Ruth Dale - Hitched!

“Take it easy, Maxine. You’re just the kind of woman I need to get my family to—”

“I heard that part. What I want to know is what you meant.”

Despite her scorn, the idea uttered in jest was seeping deeper into his consciousness. Maxine was the perfect candidate for a make-believe bride.

“I can’t imagine you’re talking about a real marriage,” she said.

“No way.” He shuddered. “I could just call my folks and tell them I’m married. Voilà! Inheritance released.”

She said, as if curiosity had gotten the best of her, “So give me details.”

“No details. I’ll just tell my mom I’m married. She’ll swoon with delight and declare the terms of the will fulfilled. If worst comes to worst, I’ll let my mom speak to my blushing bride. That’ll be you.”

She grimaced, reflected, then said, “All right.”

Being nobody’s fool, he didn’t push it. He gave her a thumbs-up and crossed to the bottle of champagne chilling in a silver bucket.

At which point Maxine aimed a forefinger at his sleek back, cocked her thumb and silently mouthed a single word: Gotcha!

Dear Reader,

I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to tell the story of Randy Taggart, the spoiled brat in Fireworks!, book one of my TAGGARTS OF TEXAS miniseries. But for Rand to grow up and find his own true love, Thom T., the Taggart patriarch, had to grow old—make that older, because he was no teenager to begin with.

How to give Thom T. his due? The question stumped me for a long time, but the answer came to me in a flash.

So here it is, book five in the further adventures of the Taggarts. I hope you like the way I’ve handled Thom T.’s “little problem.” I also hope those of you who remember the other Taggart men—Jesse James, Daniel Boone and Trey Smith—will enjoy catching up on their lives and the lives of their wives and children.

For me, this book was a joyful homecoming. I hope it pleases you, too.

Ruth Jean Dale

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Ruth Jean Dale lives in a Colorado pine forest within shouting distance of Pikes Peak. She is surrounded by two dogs, two cats, a husband (her one and only) and a passel of grown children and grandchildren. A former newspaper reporter and editor, she is living her dream: writing romance novels for Harlequin. As she says with typical understatement, “It doesn’t get any better than this!”

Books by Ruth Jean Dale

HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

678—KIDS, CRITTERS AND CUPID

687—THE CUPID CHRONICLES

788—CUPID’S REVENGE

853—FAMILY SECRETS

Other “Taggarts of Texas” books:

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE

3205—FIREWORKS!

3242—SHOWDOWN!

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

413—THE RED-BLOODED YANKEE!

HARLEQUIN HISTORICALS

768—LEGEND

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

DEAD OR ALIVE, Thom T. Taggart spoke for himself.

But considering that the crusty rancher had been laid to rest less than two hours earlier, his appearance on the forty-two-inch television screen set up special for the occasion in the parlor of the Rocking T Ranch near Showdown, Texas, elicited a collective gasp from the assembled audience.

The old Texas rancher and oilman, spiffy in a dark Western-cut suit and string tie, sat in his wheelchair, holding up a copy of the San Antonio Star. He pointed to the date and his lined face creased in a broad grin.

“Howdy, y’all,” he drawled. “As you can plainly see, today is my birthday. Seems only fittin’ to make my final will and testament before y’all show up to surprise me.” He winked, letting everyone in on the joke. “Not that I ain’t fixin’ to live to be a hundred like I always said, ’cause I am.”

At that point, Kit McCrae Taggart began to sniffle. Her husband, Boone, patted her hand in an attempt to comfort. She gave him a grateful glance and tried to swallow back her tears.

Thom T., all-unknowing, went on. “Folks, it’s been a great life—still is, even if I am mostly stuck in this dang chair these days. I may not be as spry as I usta, but I’m still of sound mind.” His familiar hearty laughter filled the room. “That bein’ the case, I’ll be gol-darned if I’ll let the government get its hands on a penny more a’what I got than it deserves. So here goes.”

It took a lot of hard swallowing and throat-clearing for his nearest and dearest to maintain their poise. Those who shared the Taggart blood had come to hear their departed patriarch’s final words and receive his final bequests.

That included Jesse James and Meg Randall Taggart, who were accompanied by thirteen-year-old daughter, Clementine. Daniel Boone and wife, Kit McCrae Taggart, who were present with their son, Travis, nine, and daughter, Cherish, three. And shirttail relation Thomas Trenton Taggart Smith, always called “Trey,” had come with his wife, the former Rachel Cox, and their eight-year-old twins, Thom T. and Taggart Smith.

Only Meg and Jesse’s twenty-one-year-old, Thomas Randall Taggart, Thom T.’s great-grandson and namesake— “Rand” to friends but still called “Randy” by the family—was missing.

On-screen, Thom T. harrumphed. “As for Randy—” He let out a huge sigh. “I told that boy’s other great-grandpa not to leave him all that money on his twenty-first birthday, but would the old fool listen to me? The boy probably won’t even show up for my funeral, but what the hey—I love him anyway. I admit I been hornswoggled now and again, but not this time. That boy’s better than you know—better than he knows.”

Thom T. took a deep breath as if to steel himself for their disapproval. “That’s why I’m leavin’ my first great-grandchild my dearest possession, my heart and soul—the Rockin’ T Ranch. I’m talkin’ the whole kit ’n’ caboodle, folks.”

This produced a ripple of surprise from the observers. Thom T. reacted as if he’d heard them from the grave. “Yep, I know I always said Jesse would get the Rockin’ T,” he stated, defending his change of heart, “but he’s got the Hells Bells Ranch and he don’t need this place, too. What’a you say to that, boy?”

“You got that right, Grandpa.” Jesse’s voice was muffled and he stared straight at the television screen as if holding himself together with spit and baling wire. “I don’t need anything.”

Thom T. nodded as though he’d heard. “I guess I could leave the home place to Boone, but he’s a big-shot lawyer and politician so he don’t want nothin’ to do with ranchin’—am I wrong about that, Dan’l Boone?”

“Never, Grandpa.” Boone’s voice was uncharacteristically tight. “I don’t recall the last time you were wrong—about anything.”

“And Trey,” Thom T. went on. “He lives a’way out in California and is always tryin’ t’get his neck broke doin’ that movie stuff.” He chortled. “Besides, he’s a damnyankee and don’t want nothin’ to do with no ranch in Texas.”

Tough-guy Trey, eyes bright with unshed tears, joined in the old rancher’s gleeful laughter. Trey, the man who could fling himself down a flight of stairs or jump off a cliff into a damp sponge without a second thought, radiated pain.

Thom T. sobered. “I been worryin’ over this for quite a spell,” he admitted. “I finally decided to let the chips fall where they want to. But the ranch ain’t comin’ easy to Randy. To get it, the boy’s gotta prove he’s worthy. He’s gotta get hitched and become a productive member of society. And he’s gotta do it by his thirtieth birthday because I ain’t made outa patience.”