Marry Me by Sundown

by Johanna Lindsey

  “Well, hell, so much for surprises,” Morgan said when he looked out the window and saw the crowd on the station platform.

  He immediately got up and jumped off the train. Violet heard hoots and hollers, whistles and voices raised in excitement, and when she looked out the window, she saw Morgan being overwhelmed with bear hugs and pats on his back, and some kisses, too.

  His whole family was there, apparently. The older couple were obviously his parents, the three young men also obviously his brothers, but the beautiful copper-haired woman who greeted him so warmly, even kissing his cheek—who the bloody hell was she?

  Violet stood up and put her bustled jacket back on. It had been too warm to wear it on the train, but with Morgan’s family outside, she wanted to look her best and was glad she’d worn her fancy rose traveling ensemble today. Parasol in hand, she offered her arm to her father.

  “How do you think they found out he was on this train?” she said as they headed to the exit together.

  “Texas, probably,” Charles guessed. “He would have sent word to his fiancée that he was coming home for good, and Emma could have told the others.”

  “That’s a shame. I was looking forward to seeing the surprise on their faces, but instead it’s Morgan who got surprised.”

  Violet stepped off the train first and turned to help her father down to the platform. She wished she hadn’t heard the whisper behind her: “You think he brought the thorn home with him?”

  She didn’t blush, but she did purse her lips in disapproval of that ridiculous name Morgan had called her more than once. And he’d obviously referred to her that way in a letter to his family, since one of them had just used the silly name. She swung around to see who had made that remark, but found they were all looking at her.

  Morgan took that moment to make introductions. “Ma, Pa, I’d like to introduce my partner, Charles Mitchell, and his daughter, Miss Violet Mitchell.”

  Mary Callahan stepped forward to shake their hands, saying, “I’m Mary, my husband is Zachary. Any friend of Morgan’s is a friend of ours, so y’all are welcome to stay at our ranch.”

  “You are most kind, Mrs. Callahan,” Violet said.

  But Zachary wanted to know, “What kind of part—?”

  Morgan cut in, “Pardon me, Pa, I’d like to finish the introductions first.”

  He went on to do that, ignoring his father’s frown. Zachary Callahan appeared to be in his fifties, with coal-black hair and dark-brown eyes fanned with laugh lines, hinting at a good-natured temperament. He didn’t look like a man who could intimidate the bear, yet she knew Morgan was dreading the fight he expected when he got around to sharing his plans.

  As for Zachary’s sons, John—the hot-tempered one, according to Morgan—had black hair and brown eyes and a look all his own, darkly brooding, one might say. Cole, the youngest, had brown hair and eyes, and was shorter than his brothers by a few inches. He had boyish good looks, sort of like a younger version of all of them. They did all resemble each other in certain ways—except that Hunter and Morgan looked very much alike. If she didn’t know they were a year apart in age, Violet would have thought they were twins.

  Mary Callahan was the most surprising member of the family. She was petite but she didn’t look delicate. She wore her long brown hair in a single braid lying over her shoulder and had keen blue eyes. Morgan’s eyes—Hunter’s, too. She was wearing a skirt made out of rough material that might actually be rawhide. When she moved to say something to her husband, Violet saw it wasn’t a skirt at all, but very wide pants. A female cowboy! She even had the wide-brimmed hat, which she held in her hand, a red bandanna around her neck, scuffed boots, and, most intriguing of all, a gun belt around her hips.

  As for the copper-haired beauty with emerald-green eyes who had caused Violet a brief moment of pique, she turned out to be Hunter’s new wife, Tiffany, the feud-ender. Violet was glad to meet her now that she knew she was married. They were the same age and might become friends. It would be so nice to have a friend here, someone with whom she could share confidences as she’d done with Sophie.

  “You’re from England, aren’t you?” Tiffany asked Violet.

  “London,” Violet replied.

  “You have a lovely accent. I look forward to hearing about all the latest fashions and social events.”

  Hunter chimed in, “My wife used to be a fancy easterner, now she’s a fancy westerner, but she’ll still talk your ear off about fashions.”

  But with the introductions over, Zachary was quick to seek the answer to his earlier question. “Mr. Mitchell is your partner in what?”

  Morgan ignored it and asked, “How in blazes did you know I was on this train?”

  Zachary raised a brow, not missing his son’s evasion, but he let it go and answered, “That’s a mite funny. We got a telegram this morning from Abe Danton, who moved to Billings last year. He thought he was doing us a favor letting us know that Hunter had just boarded the eastbound train and should be home soon. Hunter had a good laugh about it, since he was out front with his brothers waiting for me and your ma before heading out to the range.”

  Morgan snorted, insisting, “Hunter and I don’t look that much alike.”

  Hunter elbowed him. “From a distance we do, and stop complaining. You should be thankful you share my devastatingly good looks—”

  “Devastatingly good—”

  “So my wife tells me. Too bad our other brothers, the runts, missed out and resemble the mules in the south pasture.”

  “Hey, now,” Cole mumbled.

  But John actually took a swing at Hunter, who apparently expected such a response from him and stepped out of the way, allowing the punch to catch Morgan’s shoulder, which prompted Morgan to put his brother in a headlock. But John managed to trip him and they both went down, sprawled at Violet’s feet.

  She jumped back to avoid getting knocked down herself and brandished her parasol at them, scolding, “Children have better manners!”

  Zachary nodded, Mary looked at her in surprise, and John blushed furiously as he scrambled to his feet. Charles protectively put his arm around Violet’s waist. But Hunter was bent over laughing. It must have been infectious, because now the other Callahan men were laughing, too.

  Mary didn’t find it funny and admonished sternly, “She’s right, you’re no better than wild broncos. Keep those fists in your pockets, John. And stop teasing your brothers, Hunter. All of my boys are beautiful.”

  Hunter grinned. “Only a mother would say that.”

  “Well, I’ll say this, if no one else will,” Zachary began, his eyes on Morgan. “It’s about damn time you came to your senses and got yourself home, Son.”

  Violet noticed Morgan stiffen, even if no one else did. “I never lost my senses, Pa. But if you want to have this argument right here and now—”

  Mary cut in, “You’ll do no such thing. We’re tickled pink you’re home, Morg, all of us are. Now, let’s get you home and settled, then you can regale us with your exploits and explain how you came to have a partner, and why on earth you would call this beautiful lady a thorn.”

  Morgan actually grinned. “She’s named after a flower.”

  “Violets don’t have thorns, boy,” Zachary pointed out.

  “Don’t they?”

  Mary snorted. Violet felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, and she knew the others would notice it because all eyes were on her after those ridiculous remarks. And when she saw Morgan still grinning over that offensive name he’d given her, she pressed the point of her parasol to his chest and said, as politely as possible, “I may have thorns, but you, sir, have the manners and temperament of a bloody bear.”

  The Callahans looked stunned. Mary broke the silence, saying, “Well, then, shall we go?”

  As Mary led Violet to a buckboard wagon, she whispered, “So, how did my son behave like a bloody bear?”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  VIOLET BLAMED HER REACTIONS at the train station on
how unusual Morgan’s family had turned out to be. She hadn’t expected his mother to be a cowboy—well, cowgirl, but still . . . She hadn’t expected his father to be so testy, though she should have, considering what Morgan had told her. She hadn’t expected one of his brothers to throw punches. But it was obvious that Morgan was glad to be home, despite that tense moment with his father. This was the Morgan she liked, relaxed, quick to laugh, not so much carefree but definitely tolerant—or at least, hard to provoke, which was definitely a good thing for a man as big as he was.

  Mary insisted that Violet ride with her on the perch of the two-seater buckboard, while Tiffany rode in the back with Charles. A horse had been brought from the ranch for Morgan and he rode with the rest of the men, fanned out on both sides of the buckboard, not close enough to hear the uncomfortable conversation Violet was having with his mother.

  In low tones Violet tried to reassure Mary that she’d been exaggerating when she called Morgan a bear, but admitted he’d had quite a shaggy beard when they first met, that he used it to disguise himself as a mountain-man trapper to hide the fact that he was mining. Which led to a whole different topic about keeping the location of his mine secret. She finally eased out of the subject, since it was Morgan who should be telling his mother about his mine, not her. She simply commented on the beautiful landscape they rode through—green, grassy fields and magnificent snowcapped mountains in the distance.

  It didn’t take long to reach the Callahans’ home, and on the way Tiffany pointed out her own home, a pretty house surrounded by trees and fronted by a lovely lake. And then the ranch loomed ahead, with so many buildings that it looked like a little village. Violet was impressed by the size of the ranch, and was relieved it wasn’t as primitive as she’d imagined.

  Morgan let out a whoop. “It’s good to be back at the Triple C!” And he raced his brothers to the house.

  Two stories high and built of smoothly cut boards, the house was big and spread-out, with a long, covered porch in front. There was nothing rustic about it. The moment Violet stepped inside, she loved the ambience, half western, half eastern, a very homey balance.

  This was where Morgan had grown up. The front room alone could have been his playground, it was so big and open, with no walls separating the parlor, hall, and foyer. She could picture him and his brothers playing here, running through the house, riding horses outside. What a wonderful place for boys to be raised.

  Mary took her straight upstairs to the large bedroom that would be hers, saying, “There’s a bathing room downstairs off the kitchen that’s got its own pump. You’re welcome to first dibs on it before dinner.”

  Violet smiled. Well, the house was a bit rustic after all, with one shared bath downstairs. But she would make do. She wasn’t there to be critical, and in fact, she already liked this house and would probably enjoy her stay there for a week or two.

  After her bath, she changed into her only other skirt and blouse that weren’t stained, then went to find her father. She found him asleep in bed. A tray holding an empty plate sat on the night table. She smiled. Of course her father was tired after their long journey. How thoughtful of the Callahans to bring dinner to his room.

  Downstairs she found most of the Callahans in the large room. They were standing as they talked and laughed, all of them holding drinks, even Mary. She saw them all vaguely because her eyes went straight to Morgan and stayed on him. He hadn’t shaved yet and his cheeks were shadowed with stubble, but he was wearing a string tie and a light-blue shirt that matched his eyes—and he was still too bloody handsome. She felt a little giddy just being in the same room with him.

  And then the two missing Callahans walked through the front door, Hunter and his wife, Tiffany, who was wearing a sparkling evening dress. Violet felt like groaning. She hoped her brothers would arrive soon so she’d have more clothes to choose from.

  Mary raised a brow at her daughter-in-law. “I hope you didn’t ride over in that getup.”

  “I did,” Tiffany said, but pointed her thumb at Hunter. “In his lap on his horse.”

  That got a few chuckles, but Mary teased, “You didn’t need to dress up, gal. I’m not breaking out the good china tonight.”

  Tiffany grinned. “Don’t begrudge me. How often do I get the opportunity? And your houseguests are as eastern as I am. They will appreciate that we’re not all cowpunchers here in Nashart.”

  Violet certainly did. Mary urged everyone into the dining room then, and Violet ended up sitting directly across from Morgan—not by choice; it just worked out that way after Tiffany insisted Violet sit next to her. Platters and large bowls were already being passed around the table, so she didn’t think it would be too difficult to keep her eyes off Morgan long enough to eat.

  There was a lot of noise, with many people talking all at once, but that quieted down once everyone started eating. So Mary’s voice was quite clear when she said to Morgan, “I hope you brought your shaving razor home with you.”

  Violet smiled. So Morgan and his brothers got their penchant for teasing from their mother. Morgan glanced at Violet before he laughed at Mary. “It was the bear remark, huh? She explained it to you?”

  “Barely any skin visible on your face, Morgan? Really?”

  “I wouldn’t know. Didn’t have a mirror, didn’t care. I wasn’t there to look pretty.”

  Hunter was laughing, but still got in, “So you really got rich?”

  Morgan nodded. “I accomplished what I set out to do—well, half of it.”

  “And the other half?”

  “None of your damn business, Brother.”

  So he’d told no one yet about his plans for an emporium, not even his brothers? Or was he just making sure that his father found out first? It could get uncomfortable around here once they learned he hadn’t come home to join them on the range again. She hoped not.

  And then she heard next to her, “Have you heard yet how Hunter and I met?”

  She glanced at Tiffany. “To end a feud?”

  Tiffany huffed, “That silly old thing should have ended long before I was born, but no one got around to saying enough is enough, so poor Hunter was sacrificed to end it by joining our two families through marriage.”

  “I only viewed it as a sacrifice before I met you, Red,” Hunter clarified.

  “And that’s what I was getting to, how we met.” Tiffany proceeded to regale Violet with how she’d assumed the identity of the housekeeper her father, a neighboring rancher, had hired, only to get snatched up by the Callahans as a practical joke on her father, though they did actually need a housekeeper, too. “And I’d promised my mother that I would stay in Nashart for at least a month to give Hunter a chance to woo me, so it was a perfect opportunity for me to get to know him while he didn’t know who I really was. Then I could honestly tell my mother that I’d met him and he wouldn’t do. Trouble was, he most certainly did do—he’s a little bit irresistible once you get to know him.”

  “Only a little?” Hunter complained.

  “You know exactly what you are, darling,” Tiffany said, and blew a kiss to her husband before grinning at Violet. “Now, tell me how you met Morgan.”

  “He abducted me out of my hotel room and dragged me into the wilderness.”

  There was silence; then the laughter started. Violet would never have said it if she wasn’t sure they would think she was joking, and they did. She smiled to confirm it, then looked at Morgan for help. “You tell them.”

  She thought he’d give them a modified version, but she failed to notice his wicked grin. “I thought she was a con artist working for a ruthless mining company owner who was trying to steal my mine.”

  There wasn’t any laughter now, and Zachary demanded, “Did you abduct her, Son?”

  Appalled, Violet jumped in to rescue them both. “It was just a misunderstanding that we quickly sorted out.” After explaining the strange circumstances she’d confronted when she arrived in Butte and her need for a guide to take her to her
father’s mine, she simply said, “So I was pleased that he arranged that trek into the wilderness.”

  “Walked right into your trap, didn’t I?” Morgan grinned.

  “You wanted information, I wanted information,” she reminded him pertly, then said to Tiffany, “It was a rough few days to begin with, but as I said, we got it all sorted out.”

  “All the while he looked like a bear,” Mary added with a disapproving look at Morgan.

  “Well—yes,” Violet answered.

  Tiffany asked, “A cuddly bear or a grizzly?”

  “The latter. Quite frightful, actually.”

  “Enough about me,” Morgan growled.

  “Not nearly enough,” Mary insisted. “We have a whole year to catch up on, Morgan. You didn’t exactly write very often and shared barely anything of note when you did.”

  “Because there was nothing to tell. I mined for a year and nothing else. I was single-minded about it because the sooner I reached my goal, the sooner I could come home.”

  “We thought it would’ve been sooner,” Cole put in. “That you would have hired a crew to mine for you.”

  “I thought so, too, until I found out how cutthroat it is in that area. One mine owner in particular was willing to kill to get my mine, so I had to keep the location of my camp a secret, which meant no crews, and I had to do the mining myself. That routine only got interrupted when Charley’s daughter showed up. She reminded me of things I was missing—like family. And the threat has been dealt with, so Charley and I will hire a manager to run the mines now and get crews in there to work them.”

  “So you’re not going back?” Mary asked.

  “I’ll go back every so often to make sure it’s running smoothly and the manager is doing a good job, but it won’t be to stay.”

  She gave him a brilliant smile, then called for the maid to bring in dessert. There was more teasing, more laughter, but thankfully, no more personal questions.