The Secret Admirer Romance Collection

by Barratt, Amanda; Beatty, Lorraine; Bull, Molly Noble

“Yes, I would.”

  Luke nodded. “Then we better get started. It’s a long drive getting there, and we have to go through the hills.”

  “All right.”

  Abby’s smile reminded him of a sudden sunburst breaking through a dark sky. He couldn’t resist grinning back at her.

  “Oh.” She touched her forehead with the palm of one hand. “I almost forgot. Our trunk and suitcases are still on the stage.” Abby glanced toward the entry door. “Would you mind having someone carry them into the hotel for us so they will be here when we get back?”

  Get back? Luke thought.

  “I figured you’d be staying at Mr. Franklin’s place until morning, ma’am.”

  “Oh, my, no. I never intended to do that.”

  “It could be rather late if we drive back here tonight.”

  “I don’t mind getting back late.” She sent him a pleading look. “But I don’t have much money left. The little I have has to last me. So I can’t pay you much for the trip.”

  She looked desperate.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “There will be no charge.”

  “You are very kind.”

  He hadn’t planned to drive all the way back to Frio Corners tonight and then drive back to his ranch in the middle of the night. But he would gladly do it just for the privilege of being with Miss Willoughby for a while.

  Luke gazed at the entry door again. “Guess I’ll go out and carry in your luggage, ma’am.”

  “I’d be much obliged.”

  The stagecoach was parked across the street in front of the café and right next to his wagon. Luke hauled the heavy trunk just inside the door of the lobby and went back for the suitcases.

  “Put them in room five,” Mr. Pearson said, “and here’s the key.” He put a key on the counter, motioning toward a hallway at the far end of the lobby. “I would help you. But as you can see, I’m entirely too busy.”

  Busy doing what? The desk clerk had hardly moved since they came in.

  Luke loaded the luggage into room five, locked the door, and handed Miss Willoughby the key. “Here you are. So, I guess we can go now.” He pulled out his pocket watch again and checked the time. “It’s after twelve. Have you and the children eaten?”

  “No, but we don’t need anything.”

  “Yes, we do,” the oldest of the two little boys said. “I’m hungry.”

  “Me, too,” the others echoed.

  “They fix picnic lunches over at the café across the street. Why don’t I buy us all something for lunch? We can stop and eat it along the way.”

  Abby blushed. “I hate to put you out like that. And as I said, we have no money to pay you, sir. You’ve done way too much for us already.”

  “Please, let me do this. I would consider it an honor.”

  Her blue eyes widened. “Helping us is an honor? How?”

  “I’m a member of God’s family, ma’am. Christians help one another.”

  Abby smiled when Luke put the wooden box under one arm and took her arm with the other, escorting her and the children across the street to his wagon. Mr. Conquest was a thoughtful person, and she would call him Luke—at least in her dreams. He had on the kind of boots that cowboys wore. Abby tried not to notice that he was also handsome.

  A pretty young woman with dark hair stood in the shadow of the café, peering at her. Abby considered asking Luke who the woman was but decided against it. He’d done enough for her and the children. It wouldn’t be polite to bother him with more questions and demands.

  Chapter 2

  Abby held an empty wicker picnic basket on her lap, gazing at Luke in the wagon seat beside her. The children had enjoyed their lunches and especially the candy, and she was glad she bought a few more sticks for later. To be truthful, she wasn’t thinking about candy at the moment and couldn’t stop looking at Luke Conquest.

  He’d looked tall and lean, standing in the lobby of the hotel in his black cowboy boots and tan trousers. A hat covered his dark hair now, but earlier she’d noticed how the honey-colored lights in his chocolate-brown eyes set off the deeper brown of his thick, curly hair. He held the leather reins with confidence, and his hands looked as rough and untamed as the state of Texas.

  Hills surrounded them on all sides. Birds chirped overhead.

  “Just look at all the birds,” she said.

  He grinned. “Some of them already flew south for the winter.”

  Abby kept looking at Luke, but with her eyes lowered so he wouldn’t notice. A crisp breeze chilled the air, and it appeared to get cooler the higher in the hills they went. She’d put on her old brown cape and covered the children with an extra blanket. Clearly autumn was here, and winter was banging at the door.

  Yellow, gold, rusty-red, and brown leaves clothed trees higher on the hills. Yet the valleys looked green enough to tempt hand-fed cattle and horses, not to mention the wild animals that probably roamed the countryside.

  Abby wondered what kind of trees they were seeing—maples, maybe. The woman on the train said that maple trees grew in this part of Texas.

  They had left Frio Corners hours ago, and the wagon broke down before they had driven three miles. Luke fixed the loose wheel and got the wagon moving again, and they had been going up and down rock-filled roads ever since.

  In fact, Abby had bumped up and down on the wooden bench so many times that she wondered how she kept from falling off and tumbling headfirst to the hard ground. But according to Luke, they had almost reached the Franklin farm.

  Anything would be better than her life as a child and young adult in Georgia. But all that was in the past. She had always dreamed of marrying a churchgoin’ man. Now that dream was about to come true, and if Ambrose Franklin looked half as good as Luke Conquest, she was going to love living in Texas.

  Abby glanced in the back of the wagon to check on her brothers and sisters. All four children slept on a patchwork quilt.

  “Are they asleep?” Luke asked.

  She released a big sigh. “Yes, thank goodness.”

  He chuckled. “They are fine-looking youngsters. Lots of energy, too.”

  “Oh, I reckon they are full of energy, all right.”

  Luke looked at her for a moment without saying anything. She wondered what he might be thinking.

  “You mentioned Pastor and Mrs. Johnson,” he said. “Guess this is none of my business. But how do you know them?”

  “After the children and I decided to come to Texas, Ambrose suggested in one of his letters that I write to his pastor. So I did. Ambrose said he lived a long way from town, and I should stay with them until he could have someone pick me up.”

  Luke nodded. “Then are you and the children related to Mr. Franklin?”

  “Not yet.”

  “What does that mean? You’re either related to him or you’re not.”

  “Well, Ambrose and I are…”

  She hated trying to explain why she and Ambrose planned to marry in just a few days. The circumstances might seem strange to an outsider like Luke Conquest.

  “I’m Ambrose Franklin’s intended,” she said softly, half hoping he wouldn’t question her further.

  “His what?”

  “We have never actually met, but we have corresponded. And I am to be his bride.”

  His mail-order bride, she thought.

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do, miss?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. I’ve waited all my life to marry a God-fearing man and have a home of my own.”

  He frowned. “But am I correct in saying that you have never actually seen him?”

  “Why would I need to? I reckon I know everything worth knowing. We have exchanged letters, but I will be meeting him face-to-face for the first time today.”

  “I see. Well, what has he told you about himself, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Not that it is any of your concern, but he said that he worked in mines in California and around here for a while. Now he lives alone on
a farm he owns free and clear. Our parents are dead, and he doesn’t mind that I’m bringing my sisters and brothers to live with us. Now I would call that a good man, wouldn’t you?”

  “I never said he wasn’t a good man. He is. But there are a few things about Mr. Franklin you might want to know.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “As I said, I know all about Ambrose Franklin that I need to know.”

  She saw his facial muscles tighten like he was looking down his nose at her. He probably guessed how poor they were and how unworthy she was. Yes, she felt guilty accepting a marriage proposal from a God-fearing man like Ambrose when her own father was…

  Abby bit her lower lip, and her heart attempted to break out of the prison she’d tried to keep it in. She hated men like her father, and her late stepfather never worked a day in his life. Abby’s poor mother supported the family until the day she died.

  She glared at Luke. “I don’t need a perfect stranger like you to try to turn me against the most decent, most honorable man I ever knew.” Abby lifted her chin. “I’ll judge Ambrose, if you please.”

  “Suit yourself.” Luke peered down the road ahead.

  He’s angry with me now.

  But why should she care? Luke Conquest meant nothing to her.

  Nobody spoke again for a long time. Luke pretended an interest in surroundings he’d seen a million times—the hills—the streams—the trees just putting on their fall clothes.

  The path they were taking edged the river. Luke blinked against the water’s blinding sparkle, against water that was always cold. As a child, he’d seen muddy rivers and creeks when the family left the hill country and drove east to Grandma’s, but the swirling Frio River was always clean and clear. He could see all the way to its rock bottom, and he loved to hear the rush of hasty waves as they twisted and swished on the long journey to the Gulf of Mexico.

  Still, he couldn’t stop wondering if the lovely Miss Willoughby was nothing more than a gold digger out to marry a rich and ailing man. In any case, she was in for a big surprise.

  A small rock cabin stood on a rise just ahead.

  “Well, ma’am. We’re here.”

  Abby smiled, gazing at the house.

  “The roof needs a little repair,” Luke said, “and the brown shutters could use a coat of paint. Otherwise, the house looks pretty good.”

  Luke pulled the horses to a stop and tied up the reins. Then he jumped down from the wagon. “May I help you down?” he asked.

  She hesitated.

  Maybe she was still peeved with him for saying what he did. Good thing she didn’t know what he’d been thinking.

  At last she said, “Yes. Please, help me down from the wagon.”

  “What about the children?”

  “I think I’ll just leave ’em here sleeping in the wagon while we go inside. They should be all right, I think. I don’t plan to stay long.”

  “Very well.”

  He reached out and grabbed her around the waist in order to lift her down. She felt lighter than a newborn calf.

  As soon as her feet touched the ground, she wiggled out of his grasp and hurried toward the front steps of the cabin. Luke snatched the wooden box with the medicine in it from the back of the wagon and followed her up the steps to the front porch.

  At the door she knocked, waited, and knocked again.

  “Don’t knock,” Luke said. “Just go on in. Mr. Franklin will be resting anyway.”

  Abby hesitated. Then she went inside.

  A big rock fireplace dominated the interior of the main room, and he saw her looking at it as soon as they went inside. Abby continued to survey the darkened room, and he noticed when she took a special interest in the bed in one corner. Mr. Franklin lay on it, snoring loudly.

  “Hello,” she said.

  Nobody answered.

  “I think he must be sleeping,” Luke said.

  Abby nodded and moved closer to the bed. One quick look, and she whirled around, staring at Luke.

  “This man can’t be my Ambrose,” she exclaimed. “He looks old enough to be my grandfather. Why, he has a long white beard that hangs over the edge of the quilt like he was Saint Nicholas or something. Who is he anyway?”

  “That’s Ambrose Franklin, ma’am, your future husband.”

  Chapter 3

  Abby wanted to scream. “There must be some mistake,” she whispered to Luke. “This man is ancient.”

  Luke nodded. “He turned ninety on his last birthday.”

  “Ninety! Then there must be a younger Ambrose Franklin around here somewhere. We came to the wrong farm.”

  “There’s no mistake, ma’am. This is the only Ambrose Franklin that I ever heard of, and I have lived in the Texas hill country all my life.” Luke turned to Ambrose. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Franklin?”

  The old man’s eyes were closed, but when Luke said the words Mr. Franklin, he opened them and looked around. “Who goes there?”

  “It’s me, Mr. Franklin, Luke Conquest. I came to bring your medicine and a few other things.” Luke laid the wooden box on the table by Ambrose’s bed.

  “Well, speak up, son, and say them words again.” Ambrose cupped his hand behind his ear. “These old ears of mine ain’t working right just now.”

  “I said that you are the only Ambrose Franklin in these parts.”

  “I reckon I am—least I ain’t never heard of nobody else by that name. And all my kinfolk? Well, they live out in Cal-e-forn-e.” He peered at Abby. “And who is this here young lady?”

  “Forgive me,” Luke said. “I should have introduced you sooner. This is Miss Willoughby—your bride-to-be—arrived on the stage today all the way from Georgia.”

  “Land sakes, girl. Get yourself over here so I can take a look at ya.”

  Abby inched toward the bed. She was sick to her stomach. As they say, she could lose her peaches all over the hardwood floor at any moment.

  Ambrose glanced at Luke. “Would you mind handing me my specs, son, so I can see Miss Willoughby here? These days my eyes ain’t working no better than them ears of mine.”

  Luke did as the old man requested.

  Ambrose squinted at Abby through his glasses. “Well, my word. She’s a beauty, ain’t she? I ‘spect she’s about the prettiest young lady I ever seen. Ain’t that so, Luke?”

  “You said it, sir.”

  Abby noted the flash of mockery in Luke’s eyes when he said those words. She smiled at Ambrose as if she hadn’t noticed.

  “Are you ready for us to get hitched up, girl?” Ambrose asked.

  The word no shouted from Abby’s brain.

  The look in Luke’s eyes said sarcasm in big letters. It was accompanied by a onesided grin. Her face felt hot like it always did when she was upset or embarrassed.

  Abby lifted her chin a notch. “Yes, I am ready. When will our wedding take place?”

  She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go through with the marriage. She never would have if Luke hadn’t set her off like he did. Now it was too late to back out gracefully. She swallowed.

  Ambrose motioned to his frail body under the blue patchwork quilt. “I’m pretty laid up, as you can see. And the preacher—well, he and the missus ain’t here. They are out of town; won’t be back for another week. So I reckon we can have the weddin’ the day after the preacher and the wife get home.”

  “Will the ceremony be held here or at the church in Frio Corners?” Abby asked.

  “I reckon I’m thinking the church—that is, if Luke here would be willing to drive me there and be my best man.”

  Luke nodded.

  “Then I guess it’s settled.”

  Abby was still too stunned by everything that had happened to speak. The men might have settled things between themselves, but her stomach was anything but settled. A case of nausea had invaded her body shortly after she heard Ambrose snore for the first time and grew stronger when she saw that long white beard. The churning inside still bothered her. Nevertheless, sh
e forced the edges of her mouth upward in a fake smile.

  “You’re mighty pretty, all right.” Ambrose raised his head from the pillow, and bracing himself on one arm, he gazed at Abby. “I just wish we was already hitched. That way you could stay here in the cabin and help me get over this sick-spell of mine.” He shook his head. “But it wouldn’t be right—you being an unmarried girl and all—unless some older woman came with you. And that ain’t likely. Why, I can’t think of any but Luke’s late mama willing to come out here and nurse me the way she did.

  “Nellie Conquest was her name,” he went on, “and Nellie and Luke and Luke’s pa lived just across the fence line from me. Luke still does. Anyways, Mrs. Conquest would come over here every day to cook and clean. Now that she’s gone to her reward, I ain’t found no replacement—none but you, Miss Willoughby. It pains me to say it, but I reckon I won’t be seeing you again ‘til the wedding.”

  A sense of relief swept over her.

  Abby had noticed a rundown barn out back when they first drove up. She should probably offer to stay in the barn until after the wedding so she could care for Ambrose and her sisters and brothers could get to know him before the wedding, but the children were looking forward to staying in that hotel and eating store-bought food. Was it wrong to give in to worldly pleasures once in a while?

  The children would have plenty of time to get to know Ambrose after the wedding. Maybe Luke knew of a single boy willing to run and fetch for Ambrose until after the ceremony.

  Abby looked down at Ambrose. “Mr. Conquest brought your medicine, and I’m going to fix you something good to eat.” She patted the old man on the shoulder. “Do you like chicken soup, Mr. Franklin?”

  “I reckon I do. And call me Ambrose, Abby, like you done in all them letters.”

  “All right. Do you have any chickens?”

  “I got plenty in the coop out back.”

  Abby cringed. She’d never liked killing animals, and it probably showed in her face.

  “I’ll kill a hen and get it ready to cook,” Luke put in. “You can give Mr. Franklin his medicine, Miss Willoughby, and straighten up the place a little. How does that sound?”