Dare-Devil Daisy: Mail Order Brides Rescue Series, Book #5

by Grafford, Jo

  “One of my father’s traps,” the cowboy explained in a casual voice, as if the appearance of nooses that could break a man or a woman’s neck were a common occurrence in this part of the country.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” This time she didn’t have to fake the weakness in her voice. She swayed in the saddle. Mercy! That wasn’t faked, either.

  Scowling in concern, the cowboy leaped back on his horse and drew her against him. “There, now. It’ll be alright, lass.” He splayed one large hand across the tops of hers that she had clasped tightly around her middle.

  She immediately felt the rasp of calluses on his ungloved hand. She glanced down in wonder, unable to recall ever seeing a gentleman ride a horse without wearing gloves.

  “Where are your gloves?” she blurted without thinking.

  He made a snorting sound and moved his arm to rest beneath hers. “Don’t start in on me, woman,” he growled, nudging his horse into motion. “I already have a sister who nags me to no end on the topic.”

  Ah. So he hadn’t lost or misplaced his gloves. He chose not to wear them. Her perusal continued up his tanned and heavily scarred forearm to the white shirt rolled at his elbows. Whatever he did for a living, he certainly could benefit from wearing them, though she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit his scars added to the aura of danger and mystique surrounding him.

  “Your sister sounds like a woman who cares,” she mused with a smile, settling her head back against his shoulder.

  “She does.” His voice was gruff. “Madge worry-warts over everyone who crosses her path. I’d advise you to steer clear of her.”

  Daisy had every intention of doing the exact opposite. She liked the woman already. “I’m much obliged for the warning, Mr. Ah…” She let her right hand slide downward until her pinky finger rested on his wrist. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” A trill of laughter escaped her at how natural the words sounded.

  “Prescott. Prescott Barra.”

  Her mind greedily snatched up his name and spun it into a dozen scrumptious variations. Daisy Barra. Daisy Danvers Barra. Mrs. Prescott Barra. Barra was such a lovely last name! She silently mouthed the words, and they rolled across her tongue as certain as her destiny.

  “I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Barra.” She gently squeezed the top of his hand.

  “Prescott,” he interjected harshly.

  So he wished to skip formalities between them? She felt the color rise to her cheeks. Did that mean he felt the same way about their first encounter as she did? Feeling a bit breathless, she announced. “My name is—”

  “Daisy Danvers, I know. Or Dare-Devil Daisy, as some of your friends prefer to call you.”

  She winced and resisted the urge to duck as they passed beneath the noose stretched between the spruces. “Why, that tale-telling minx! I should’ve known Meg Gladstone would—”

  “Meg Nicholson,” Prescott interrupted in a bland voice. “And there’s no need to get your pretty self worked into a lather over it.”

  You think I’m pretty? The hackles that had started to rise inside her dissolved into a delicious little puddle of warmth and wonder.

  “She cares about your well-being, is all. That’s why she asked me to intercept you at the train station.”

  The puddle of warmth and wonder froze into a block of ice. “She asked you to do what?” Daisy straightened her back so suddenly that the horse beneath her shuddered and whinnied out a protest. You mean our entire meeting was engineered by a skilled socialite? Not a dreamy chance encounter ordained by the Fates themselves? Disappointment curdled so thickly in her throat it threatened to choke her.

  “Easy there, Wildfire.” Prescott leaned forward to pat his mare’s neck, which inevitably brought his mouth closer to Daisy’s ear. “Unless you wish for the two of us to end up a greasy spot at the base of the mountain, I’d recommend you keep your voice low and your movements to a…don’t move!” he finished harshly. “Not a blessed inch,” he added at a whisper.

  The change in his voice was so abrupt and ominous that she complied without question. Barely breathing, she scanned the sandy mountain path in front of them and discovered the reason for his warning.

  An enormous snake lay about ten feet ahead, his coiled head raised. He was staring at them through a pair of dark eye slits. Daisy was too horrified to do anything more than stare back.

  This can’t be happening. My perfect adventure cannot possibly end in a venomous snake bite. I will NOT die out here in the middle of nowhere with some dusty cowpoke who was ordered to watch over me. I cannot! I will not!

  Overcome by a frenzy of righteous anger, Daisy twisted out of Prescott’s grasp and slid to the ground. To her right was the horse and the mountain. To her left was the steep drop-off.

  “Daisy!” Prescott groaned. He whipped out his pistol and trained it at the head of the snake.

  “Don’t shoot,” she warned softly, fearful the sound would spook his horse. “I’ve a better idea.” She slowly bent her knees and, without taking her gaze off the snake, picked up a stone the size of her hand. Aiming at an outcropping of rock jutting above his head, she threw the stone with all her might. It bounced off the outcropping and thudded to the ground between them. It also loosened some gravel and sand, making it rain down on the creature’s dark scales.

  He ducked his head and slithered down the side of the mountain, unraveling one terrifying coil of his body at a time. His tail made a rattling sound as he disappeared from view.

  Daisy stared after him, too weak to do anything but stand there. Her whole body trembled in a way she couldn’t control. She’d never been so scared in all her life, not even when she’d gone hot air ballooning and a storm had blown her basket off course.

  “What were you thinking, infernal woman?” Prescott’s hands gripped her shoulders and spun her around to face him.

  Despite her trembling, her chin came up. “I was thinking,” she returned evenly, “that I’ve no wish to die today. Thanks to me, the snake is gone. You’re welcome, sirrah!” She gave him a mocking curtsy.

  His glare deepened, turning his tanned features devilish. “An unnecessary and foolish risk since I had a clean shot at him.”

  Her chin went up another inch, which did little more than tip her face up to his. The man was a good six inches taller than her. Drat him! “And what if your shot spooked Wildfire?”

  “She’s very well trained.”

  “In the art of chasing away rattlesnakes?” Daisy shot back. “She was as scared as I was. I could feel her trembling.”

  His dark brows rose. “You leaped down to defend my horse?” He shook his head. “Of all the foolish, addle-brained—” He paused his tirade to yank off his Stetson and run a hand through his longish brown hair. He closed his eyes for a moment, hiding the bourbon hued sparks flying from them. It was as if he was trying to collect his wits before continuing.

  Daisy drank in the hard set to his mouth above a square chin with a dimple in the center of it. Good gracious, but the man was a handsome beast! For a few inexplicable seconds, her imagination ventured into the fascinating zone of what those hard lips would feel like on hers.

  By the time he opened his eyes, she was staring at him dazedly and swaying in his direction.

  “A horse can be replaced,” he announced coolly. “Young, spoiled debutantes from the East cannot.”

  His words stung as badly as if she’d stepped into an entire nest of bees. She gasped and turned to fling her arms around his horse’s neck. “You cannot be replaced, sweet thing. No matter what that horrible, bad man says.”

  With a long-suffering groan, Prescott bent to cup his hands into a makeshift stirrup. “Up you go, m’lady.” The sarcasm in his voice was thick enough to cut with a knife.

  Lips twisting bitterly, Daisy stomped her fancy boot into his scarred hands a little harder than necessary.

  He didn’t give her the satisfaction of so much as an eye twitch. Instead, he li
fted her into the saddle as if she weighed no more than a blade of grass. He climbed up behind her in one fluid movement and hooked an arm like a vise around her middle.

  “What?” she teased in a hard voice. “Is the desperado afraid of losing his captive again? La! That must be embarrassing, since I’m all of half your size.”

  His voice was low and gravely in her ear. “Your venomous tongue more than makes up for your size.”

  “Not that you’re much of a connoisseur of women’s voices,” she returned in a false sugary voice. “Considering how you were sweet-talked by the world’s most conniving wretch into playing my nursemaid.”

  “Conniving?” His whole body turned rigid in the saddle. “You clearly aren’t as well acquainted with Meg Nicholson as you claim to be. She’s one of the few folks I know who is good through and through.”

  “Is that so?” Too angry to pretend any longer, Daisy whipped out her friend’s last letter from the layers of lace tucked against her bosom. “Perhaps I’ll regale you with her latest on dit while you finish piloting us to whatever Godforsaken spot you have in mind.”

  She smoothed the crumpled sheet of stationary, hating her friend’s jasmine scent that wafted up from it. Correction. Former friend. “My dearest, Daisy flower,” she read. “I am counting the days until your visit. Please, please, please bring as many boxes of my favorite macaroons from Archibald’s Bakery as you can fit into your travel bags. I am positively starved for them! Oh, and it is quite unnecessary for you to secure a contract through that detestable mail-order bride agency before you arrive, because I already have the perfect man picked out for you—”

  “Let me see that!” Prescott snatched the letter from her in mid-sentence.

  She made a swipe for it, but his arm was longer. He held it away from her, squinting at it in the sunlight.

  “She plans to pair you up with the owner of a diamond mine, eh?” His voice was devoid of all inflection.

  “Part owner, I believe. Not that it matters to the likes of you.” Daisy leaned away from the horse as far as she could without toppling off to retrieve her letter. She wasn’t about to admit that she’d ignored her friend’s warning and paid a visit to the Boomtown Mail Order Brides Agency before she’d left town. They’d found Meg a husband, hadn’t they? There was no reason they couldn’t find one for her while she cooled her heels at Meg’s house.

  “The likes of me?” Prescott snarled.

  She twisted in her seat to smirk up at him, a movement that turned out to be a mistake when it brought her mouth dangerously close to his. “Yes, indeed. It appears you’re more suited the role of errand boy.”

  “How so?” He leaned closer with a challenging spark in his whiskey eyes, daring her to be the first to pull back.

  She shrugged. “You were sent to fetch me. That is all.”

  “I rescued you from a gang of train robbers,” he reminded stiffly.

  “There is that, I suppose.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “Which only proves Meg was right. You do make an excellent errand boy. But, clearly, she has greater plans for me with someone else.” Or had. Ugh! Heaven only knew when she would actually get to see the woman again, everything considered.

  To her surprise, he agreed. “She does.” His lips compressed into a thin, hard line. “With any one of your dandified suitors back East.”

  What is that supposed to mean? Daisy stared at him, uncomprehending.

  He smirked down his nose at her. “I believe her only plan is to show you how unsuited you are to life in the West and have you on the next train bound for Boston.”

  Or so the scheming minx told you. No doubt Meg had merely been trying to discourage Prescott from having any designs on her himself. A laugh bubbled inside her. It didn’t sound as if Prescott had managed to read Meg’s entire letter. If he had, he would know Meg intended her to stay until the baby was born, regardless of her marriage prospects or lack thereof. That meant Meg planned to keep her as a house guest for a good two months or longer.

  “That will be a mite difficult with how many miles are between us and the train station,” she noted mildly. “I suppose I’d best reconcile myself to a few more hours in your deplorable company,” she sighed, turning around and smoothing her wind-blown skirts. “Oh, dear! Whatever will we talk about?” She infused as much doubt and sarcasm into her voice as she could muster, making it obvious that she did not find him capable of entertaining her for that length of time.

  “Perhaps you might advise me on female fripperies.” His tone was as sarcastic as hers.

  “Come again?” She pretended to misunderstand. Female fripperies, indeed! As if she had nothing more important on her mind!

  “Yes. I’ll admit to not having the faintest idea what sort of decorations or festivities my bride will want or expect during our coming nuptials.”

  Daisy twisted around in the saddle a second time as if pulled by marionette strings. “You’re getting married? You?”

  His brows came together ferociously. “Why? What’s wrong with me? You’re the second person who’s said that today!”

  Chapter 4: Mountain Hideaway

  Prescott

  Prescott surveyed the looming cabin opening with suspicion. It served as a portico of sorts. His father’s mountain retreat lay on the other side of it.

  However, after the rattlesnake incident, he wasn’t taking any chances. The building could be brimming with hidden terrors. Best to proceed with caution.

  “I take it, we’ve arrived,” his irascible guest noted in a haughty voice.

  “Not quite,” he muttered, sliding to the ground for the umpteenth time. Wildfire nickered and turned her head in his direction. He took that as a good sign. Surely, her animal instincts would have picked up on any imminent dangers.

  To be safe, he tossed a few pebbles inside the cabin. He heard nothing more than the scurrying away of a small critter. Probably a mouse or a rat. Either of those he could handle. The scurrying of a small creature also indicated there were no snakes present.

  He unholstered his weapon and held it at the ready while he led his horse forward by her reins.

  “To answer your earlier question…” Daisy flipped a handful of her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “For one thing, you’re not at all a romantic fellow.”

  “What?” He whipped his head in her direction, wondering what in tarnation the chit was yammering about now.

  “You asked why I acted surprised about the fact you’re getting married,” she reminded with a superior smile.

  He made a sound of disgust and shook his head. He had more important things to worry about, like how to get Daisy safely back to Headstone once they had a chance to lie low for a few hours.

  A rumble of thunder in the distance made him crane his neck up at the clouds. Lord, have mercy! If he couldn’t get the creature returned to her friend by nightfall, he might very well find himself the one sullying the reputation of the very woman he’d sworn to protect. He just couldn’t catch a break today. Not a one!

  “Think what you wish,” he growled. “The fact remains I am getting married.” Eventually, at least. She didn’t need to know his exact time frame. “I wrote the mail-order bride agency this morning to declare my intentions.” Towards you, you irritating woman!

  “A mail-order bride?” Daisy clapped her hands and chuckled in sheer delight. “But of course! It’s all beginning to make sense now.”

  He had no idea what was making sense to a woman with her uppity notions, but he didn’t doubt she would share her thoughts whether he asked for them or not.

  He tried to ignore her and failed. Her laughter surrounded him like a magical cloud, both taunting and exciting him. Part of him wanted to shake her for her insolence, while the other part of him wanted to laugh along with her. She was turning out to be a female not easily dismissed.

  She continued to break into sporadic peals of chuckles as he led her through the portico and into the mountain clearing. Then, all at once, her laughter
stopped.

  “Oh, Press!” She gazed around them in awe.

  His heart skipped a few beats to realize she’d just christened him with an impromptu nickname of her choosing. Her faraway look made him question whether she realized what she’d done.

  “I take it all back,” she whispered. “Every last word about your lack of romanticism. All you need to do is bring your bride-to-be up here, and she’ll fall head over heels in love with you.” She bestowed a dreamy smile on him. “I declare if you weren’t already spoken for, I’d marry you myself.”

  With that astounding announcement, she leaped down from the saddle without looking.

  Fearful she would turn her ankle on the uneven terrain, he reached out and caught her. Lowering her to the toes of her expensive looking travel boots, he kept his hands resting on her waist several beats longer than necessary. He told himself it was to steady her, but he honestly wasn’t in a hurry to let her go. Which made little sense. He could barely stand the woman.

  “So all I have to do is cancel my prior engagement, eh?” he teased. “And you’re all mine, Miss Daisy?”

  Unless he was mistaken, his words made her catch her breath. Her long blonde lashes brushed her cheeks. “Maybe if our circumstances had been different,” she murmured. “Alas, I believe Meg has a much different match in mind for me. A man she’s already spoken to about me. I’m all but engaged already, myself.”

  Yes, you are, tiresome wench. To me. He grinned at the thought of what she would say if she ever found out about the telegram he’d sent this morning.

  “What do you find so funny?” she demanded with a huff of indignation.

  “You. Me. Us.” He stepped away from her and dropped his hands. “We’re a good fifteen miles from Headstone. You should be safe up here on the mountain. Unfortunately, I haven’t the foggiest notion what the train robbers were looking for and when it will be safe to return you to town.” As far as he knew, there’d never been a train heist in Headstone before. Local law enforcement had dealt with a fair number of desperadoes in recent months — everything from highwaymen to human traffickers, but never a group of armed robbers on the move like this. It felt deliberate somehow. As if Headstone was not a random mark.