Cheryl St.John - Badlands Bride

Her eyes, dark from this distance, surveyed the windswept vista and weathered log building and finally regarded the four men. Cooper met her stare. She was young, strikingly beautiful, with winged brows and a full mouth—definitely not a woman without better prospects in the city.

A sniffling sound came from inside the coach. She cast a significant glance over her shoulder and quickly stepped away saying, “One more mile in there and I’d have forgotten I was a lady.”

The whining came from a short young woman whose drab dress resembled a sausage casing. She appeared in the doorway, another girl with wild hair the color of a stewed carrot holding her elbow. Tearstains streaked the dust on both their faces.

Ferlie jumped down.

“What happened?” Vernon asked, Stu and Angus at his side.

“Six of ‘em,” Ferlie said. “Rode us down at Big Stone. Robbed the womenfolk. Skeered ’em good. Woulda done worse.”

Vernon clenched his fists.

“This brave young woman took a gun away from one of those border ruffians and saved us,” the redhead explained, pointing to the hellcat. Beside her the fat lady sputtered into a fresh bout of tears.

The men cast one another skeptical looks.

Finally Vernon took the initiative and spoke. “Which of you is Miss Blake?”

The fat one sniffed. “I am.”

Vernon reached for her gloved hand. “Pleased to meet you. Would it be all right if I called you Zinnia?”

A smile bloomed on her round face. She ogled Vernon as though he were rain for her parched soul. “Mr. Forbes?”

The hellcat stepped closer to Cooper—or maybe just farther away from the woman with the red and swollen eyes.

Vernon tucked his package beneath his arm and awkwardly assisted Zinnia from the coach. “You’re safe now,” he said. “You need a good hot meal and a night’s rest.”

“Miss Mason?” Stu asked, approaching the redhead.

She nodded. “Olivia.”

The hellcat stepped back to the doorway of the coach and peered in. “Coming, Evelyn?”

Cooper stepped beside her and took the blushing young woman’s gloved hand while she held her skirts and managed the step to the ground. She was painfully plain-faced and shy.

“Evelyn? Evelyn Reed?” Angus took her hand from Cooper’s. He wore a nervous grin on his awestruck face. “I’m Angus Hallstrom. You musta been scared sh—” He stopped a second. “Real scared.” The two stepped aside and the woman kept her head down as he spoke.

Amused at the station manager’s enamored reaction to the plain-faced Evelyn, Cooper remembered the woman beside him—the only bride left. He turned and contemplated her.

“Someone must be notified,” she said, looking up. “We were robbed.”

Up close her sparkling eyes were three distinct colors. Gray ringed the outside, blending into green with rich golden brown at the centers. Her lashes were thick and black, and her brows arched delicately, heightening her refined beauty. “You’re safe,” he said, not knowing how to reply.

“She bloodied the big ‘un’s nose, grabbed his gun and shot the one jumpin’ Miss Mason,” Ferlie said. “You shoulda seen it, Coop. Hot damn!” He laughed again.

Cooper stared at her. This dainty creature had done all that?

“I may be safe,” she went on, as if Ferlie hadn’t interrupted, “but I’m poorer than Job’s turkey! Those rowdies stole every bit of my money. They even took my jewelry. Someone will have to get it back!”

“I’m sorry.” Again his words were woefully inadequate.

She positioned her full lips in an exasperated line.

Tess Cordell. And she was already unhappy.

“Mr. DeWitt?”

He nodded. “Miss Cordell?”

Her ivory complexion pinkened more deeply than the original flush of irritation. “Mr. DeWitt.” She straightened her posture and lifted her chin. “I’m afraid Tess didn’t come.”

“What do you mean, Tess didn’t come?”

“Apparently her fiance had broken off with her sometime before she answered your ad. He returned just as she was preparing to come.” She glanced over his shoulder and back. “She went to Philadelphia with him.”

He regarded her. Four women had been expected, and four women had arrived. Confusion gave way to a sensation of rejection he didn’t care for. “If you’re not Tess Cordell, who are you?”

“I’m Hallie Wainwright.”

He couldn’t control the brow that rose in doubt. “And?”

“And...” Her glance skitted from his face to the driver who now made his way into the station. Angus left Evelyn Reed standing in the shade near the others, unhitched two of the six lathered horses and led them to the corral. “I’m a reporter.”

He waited, taking stock of what he might read in her expression and movements.

“I’d been working on a story about the brides for The Daily. I wanted to follow up after the women got out here, and I’d hoped that Tess would be my contact. When she changed her mind, I didn’t know what I was going to do. So, I took the ticket and the money and came in her place.”

The Oglala didn’t have a word for lie. Whites were the only ones Cooper had known to practice deception, and his lack of experience evoked an unfamiliar vulnerability. What purpose would a lie serve here?

Cooper didn’t know which would be more disappointing : if she really wasn’t his intended wife, or if she was and had come up with this plausible story to get out of an impulsive agreement she now regretted. In either case, he had no bride.

“You came in her place?” he asked.

“Well, I—” Her face grew a deeper shade of rose and she stammered. “I, uh, did use the ticket, yes. And I intended to pay you back for that as well as return the money that you sent Tess.” Her gold-flecked eyes widened. “No! I did not come in her stead!”

Her horror at the thought of being his substitute bride didn’t lend him any confidence. He took note that the other couples were already speaking with the justice. Stu glanced toward them expectantly. Cooper turned back to her. “All right. Where is it?”

“What?”

“My money.”

Her mouth fell open. “They stole it! Those men who robbed us took everything of value they could carry on their horses.”

“So you can’t pay me back?”

She blinked. “No.”

“Fair try, Miss Cordell.”

Speechless for once, Hallie stared at the man. Beneath a fawn-colored hat, his blue eyes matched the endless sky overhead. He had a straight, stern nose and a shapely mouth with a tiny line at each corner. The deep dimple in his chin and the matching indentation beneath his nose lent authority to his serious expression.

“What are you saying, DeWitt?”

He scrutinized her face, and finally his expression changed. Drawing a breath, he said, “I understand why you don’t want to stay.”

“All right, why don’t I want to stay?”

“You’re a city woman. You’ve had a good hard look at this country...at the men...at me. And you’re ready to go back to your comfortable home.”

“It’s not that at all. You can’t presume to read my mind. I never intended to stay here. I never intended to marry you.”

His gaze didn’t flicker.

“Nothing personal, mind you. I am not Tess Cordell. I have a position at the paper back in Boston, and I’m not inclined to marry someone I don’t know—or anyone, for that matter.”

He shrugged a broad shoulder indifferently, the soft fringe around his shoulders and his sleeve swaying with his movement, then turned and walked away.

His action surprised her, as did the thick, dark blond tail that hung down his back to his waist. She’d never seen a man with hair longer than her own.

The closer he got to the crude building, the more realization sank in. If she didn’t intend to marry him, he didn’t plan to waste time listening to her explanations. He hadn’t exactly seemed the chatty, sympathetic sort.