Texas Bride: A Bitter Creek Novel

by Joan Johnston

  Cricket put a hand on each of the twin’s shoulders before she left the kitchen, leaned down between them, and said, “Be on your best behavior.”

  “I will if he will,” Nash muttered, glaring at Nick.

  Cricket sighed. “I’m not kidding, Nash. I mean it, Noah. When I come back in here, I expect to see you finishing up your sandwiches. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Nash said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Noah said.

  She’d already turned to leave when she caught Nick smirking at the twins. She turned back and said, “That goes for you, too, Nick.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do,” Nick shot back.

  She turned to Slim and said, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “Ain’t my kid.” Slim was smirking, too.

  “I’ll be good,” Harry promised. “I want pie.”

  “Great idea, Harry,” she said to the towheaded little boy. “The rest of you, behave yourselves, too, or no pie!”

  Nick scowled, but this time, he didn’t talk back.

  She caught Nash and Noah starting to sneer and pointed a finger at them. They’d learned over the years the power of that pointed finger. Both boys immediately filled their mouths with their sandwiches.

  “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” she said.

  Cricket was afraid to leave, afraid of the row that might start the instant she wasn’t there to prevent it, but the sooner she left the sooner she’d get back. She sent one more admonishing look toward the boys at the table as she put on her coat, hat, and gloves. Then she headed back out into the cold.

  The mustang beneath her was nothing like the gentle hacks Miranda had ridden in the park in Chicago. The Roman-nosed gray was rebellious, yanking at the bit and even crow-hopping. She was grateful for the wide stirrups, the high cantle in back, and the horn in front that kept her firmly in the Western saddle during the gelding’s antics.

  Miranda had discovered that instead of buckling a strap around the horse’s girth, like an English saddle, the Western saddle had a strap that had to be tightened around cinch rings. She’d known enough to knee the grulla’s belly to get him to release the air he held in his lungs as she tightened the strap, so the cinch wouldn’t be loose as soon as the animal exhaled.

  The unruly animal had fought when she tried putting the curb bit in his mouth and jerked his head up to keep her from getting the bridle over his ears. She’d resorted to bribery, offering the mustang a dried-up carrot to keep his head down long enough to get the bridle in place.

  As she rode out onto the snowy landscape, Nick’s woeful warning rang in her ears.

  You’re going to die out there, Miranda. You’re going to get lost and freeze to death. Harry and I are going to be all alone here in Texas. Please don’t go!

  For a moment, she’d considered staying in the house. But she knew she couldn’t do it. Her family’s security was tied up with Jake’s success. If he lost the ranch, she and her brothers would lose the roof over their heads, and whatever chance she’d had to save her sisters would be gone along with it.

  She had no choice. She had to go out into the storm.

  Miranda was glad she’d added extra layers of Jake’s clothing under Priscilla’s pink cape and that she’d thought to tie the cape at the waist with a wool scarf she’d found among the dead woman’s belongings. She’d wrapped a second knitted scarf around her throat. Nevertheless, her teeth were chattering.

  “Come on, you ornery cuss,” she said as she kicked the gray’s flanks. “Let’s go find Jake.”

  The horse’s ears flicked forward and back when she said “Jake,” which made her wonder if Priscilla and Jake had ridden together, so the horse recognized his name. She wondered if Priscilla had harbored dreams as she did. Surely she had. Miranda tried not to think of the other woman’s fate. That wasn’t going to be her. Her life was going to turn out differently.

  Especially if Jake never touched her. Imagine a man deciding never to make love to his wife because he didn’t want to get her pregnant! Miranda hoped Jake wouldn’t keep that promise. Otherwise, she was never going to have a family of her own. Surely he would reconsider.

  But why would he?

  He already had a child of his own. She’d brought along two young boys who would grow into helpful ranch hands. Why would he want to take the risk of losing his caretaker for the children, his housekeeper and cook, his laundress and helpmate?

  She thought back to his gentleness the previous night and the kiss that had followed their conversation. She had felt … strange … afterward. She tried to find a better word to describe her feelings.

  Uplifted. Whole. Cherished.

  She’d felt all of those things and wanted to feel them again. She wanted Jake’s warm lips pressed against her own. She wanted his arms wrapped around her, not just in comfort, but in passion.

  Passion. What an odd word for her to be using! She would never have called herself a passionate person. If anything, she was dispassionate. Over the past three years, she’d learned to curb her emotions, to stifle her feelings, to control everything, because anything else gave Miss Birch the opportunity to cause her pain.

  Miranda suddenly realized, riding through a blizzard all by herself, that the person she’d been for the past three years was nothing like the person she’d been before she’d arrived at the orphanage. That girl-before-the-fire, eldest daughter of doting parents, had been proud and confident and daring and even, though she didn’t like to remember it, mischievous.

  Where had that girl-before-the-fire gone? Was she still inside somewhere? Did Miranda want that girl back? Or was it better—safer—to remain the more careful, cautious, and cowed person she’d become?

  Miranda realized even before she’d finished asking herself that final question that she couldn’t remain the girl she’d been at the orphanage. This untamed land demanded more than the diminished creature she’d been in the presence of Miss Birch.

  Besides, she wasn’t that abject person. She never had been, not really. She might have surrendered her body to Miss Birch, but she’d never surrendered her soul. She’d had the courage, for many years, to take punishments meant for her siblings. She’d been a mother to them and kept them from feeling like the orphans they all were. And she’d had the boldness, in the end, to steal away with Nick and Harry.

  Behavior that had been necessary for survival at the Chicago Institute for Orphaned Children would not serve her well in this wild place. Careful, yes. Cautious, yes. But cowed? Never.

  She smiled to herself. You couldn’t exactly call what she was doing right now either careful or cautious. Riding out into a blizzard? To deliver a message that probably couldn’t be acted upon anyway in this snowstorm? It seemed reckless. And yet, Slim seemed to think Jake would not only want Blackthorne’s message but that he would act on it, despite the weather.

  The old man had instructed her to ride the length of the fence that began at the edge of the barn, looking for a break where Jake might have gone through. She wished she had a better way of telling how long she’d been riding, or even how far. The sun was up there somewhere above the storm, but the sky was an oppressively dark gray and the landscape was endlessly white, without any particular landmarks to guide her.

  Snow on the rolling hills was a half foot deep now, blowing into much deeper drifts in the gulleys and along the four-foot-high barbed wire fence that was attached to mesquite posts. In some places, barely a foot of the posts remained visible.

  She was so focused on the fence to keep it beside her that she was startled when she looked up and saw a figure—a man on foot—in the distance.

  Miranda was alarmed. Who would be out here on foot in this weather? Probably some drifter who’d want her horse and try to take it from her forcibly. She considered riding away from the fence to escape the stranger, but she knew she’d never find her way back to the ranch. Besides, even from here she could see the man was moving slowly, limping badly. He might need
help. She could make the decision whether to run away when, and if, it became necessary.

  As she got closer, she thought she recognized the flat-crowned hat and shearling coat. She was almost sure it was Jake. He was using a stick for a cane and moving even more slowly than when she’d first seen him. His lower face was wrapped up in a scarf, but she would know those serious brown eyes anywhere.

  “Jake!”

  She kneed her horse into a jog, then dismounted and struggled through the snow on foot to reach him. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  “Horse rolled on me. Hurt my ankle,” he said tersely.

  His taut voice and bleak eyes revealed the direness of the situation. “Is it broken?” She looked down at his boot, but it was covered in snow.

  “Don’t know.”

  “Where’s your horse?”

  He stared back at her without speaking, and she felt a wave of nausea at the thought of what he must have done.

  “He’s dead?”

  He gave a jerky nod and said, “What are you doing out here?”

  She opened her mouth to tell him about Blackthorne’s warning and shut it again. There was no sense telling Jake about Blackthorne’s ultimatum, since there was no way he could go hunting for lost cattle now. Maybe Blackthorne would give them more time when he found out Jake had been injured.

  “Slim was worried,” she said instead.

  “That old man needs his head examined, sending you out here like this. Come on. Weather’s not getting any better.”

  That was all he said. Not, “Thank you for coming.” Or, “Thank you for caring.” Or, “It’s a good thing you came along.” Miranda felt miffed. Then she took another look at his face, where the scarf had slipped, and realized the agony he must be suffering. He hadn’t said how long he’d been walking on his sprained—or broken—ankle.

  He mounted first, biting back an oath, then pulled her up sideways into his lap, putting his arms around her to hold her in place. He kneed the gray horse and followed the fence back toward the house, moving around drifts when necessary.

  She waited for him to say something, anything, but he remained silent. Finally, she couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

  “What happened?”

  “I found a break in the fence between my land and Bitter Creek and went looking for any cattle that might have gone through it, knowing that if that English bastard found them before I did, he’d slap a brand on them and dare me to call him a thief. I was in a hurry and moving too fast and my horse slipped and broke a leg.”

  So Jake had already discovered his cattle were missing and had figured out the possible consequences of their straying onto Blackthorne land. She could have stayed at home.

  What if she had? She shuddered to think what might have happened to Jake. Would he have made it back in this weather with a sprained, or maybe broken, ankle? He was barely moving by the time she’d found him, and she’d been riding several hours before she reached him.

  “Bad luck seems to follow me around,” he muttered. “I’m damned sorry I got you into this.”

  She heard the despair in his voice. It sounded like he was giving up. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  “Couldn’t you hire someone to help until you’re better?”

  “No.”

  She had to suppose there was no money to pay such a person, since Jake didn’t elaborate. “I can help,” she offered. “So can Nick, if you think Slim would be willing to watch Anna Mae and Harry.”

  “A woman and a boy can’t—”

  “Why not?” she interrupted. “I’m strong and, despite his size, so is Nick. What we don’t know, you can teach us.”

  “From a rocker in the parlor?” he snarled.

  “From the back of a horse. You can obviously ride, even if you can’t walk. You come along and tell us what to do, and we’ll do it, starting with getting those cattle back on your—our—land.”

  She felt his arms tighten around her in what almost felt like a hug. She was suddenly aware of the warmth of his muscular thighs under hers. Aware of his hot breath against her cheek. Aware of his strong arms holding her close.

  She felt protected. She felt cherished.

  Of course, those feelings were an illusion. She wanted them to be real. She warned herself to be careful, to be cautious, not to let herself become vulnerable. She didn’t want to lose her heart to a man who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—love her back. Better to remain friends. Better to be safe than sorry.

  “Weren’t you afraid to come out here alone?” Jake asked.

  She was surprised into admitting the truth. “Terrified.”

  He chuckled in her ear. “So why did you come?”

  She shifted herself so she could look up at him more easily. “I didn’t want to find myself a widow before I’ve become a wife.”

  “Slim couldn’t have known I was in trouble. Why did you really come?”

  She hesitated, then said, “Blackthorne showed up at the house.”

  He swore viciously, then said, “He knows better than to set foot on my land.”

  “He came to tell you that some of your cattle have strayed onto Bitter Creek. To give you an ultimatum, actually. He wants them moved off before tomorrow morning or—”

  “Goddamn that man!”

  Miranda heard the desperation and frustration and anguish of a man pushed past his limits. “We’ll get them moved, Jake.”

  “Not before tomorrow morning,” he bit out. “That bastard means what he says. I can kiss those yearlings good-bye.”

  “Maybe just a few got through the fence,” Miranda said in an attempt to make him feel better.

  “Even a few is too many. I’m living within a hairs-breadth of disaster day-to-day. I have so many things I want to do, improvements I’d like to make, none of which I can accomplish without getting every single one of my cattle to market.”

  “Maybe we can get him to change his mind,” Miranda said.

  “Blackthorne is ruthless. Heartless. The most unscrupulous blackguard you’ll ever meet in your life.”

  Miranda didn’t disagree with him. She hadn’t liked the man when she’d met him. She liked him even less, now that she saw how miserable he made Jake’s life. “Then we’ll just have to thwart him at every turn.”

  Jake looked down at her and smiled wryly. “Good luck.”

  “We won’t need luck. We’re going to do it with determination and hard work.”

  She felt Jake’s arms tighten around her again. This time it really felt like a hug.

  They were nearing the house when Miranda heard the distinct lowing of cattle, carried by the icy wind. Through the whipping snow she saw a small bunch of longhorns being herded by a lone figure on horseback. As she watched, the person on horseback opened the gate to a large corral next to Jake’s barn, swinging a lariat to prod the cattle into it.

  “Oh, Jake, look!” Miranda said, feeling a surge of relief. “Someone found your missing cattle and brought them home.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

  “Who is that?” Miranda asked. “Do you recognize him? Is it one of your neighbors?”

  “What the hell does she think she’s doing?”

  Miranda turned and stared up into Jake’s angry eyes. “She?” She turned back to look at the slight figure on horseback. “That’s a woman?”

  “That’s no woman,” Jake said. “That’s my mother.”

  “Are you crazy?” Jake shouted at his mother.

  “You want to yell at me, or you want to help?” she called back.

  Jake started to shove Miranda off the horse, so he could better help his mother, but the city girl clung to him and said, “Don’t put me down! Those cows will stomp me.”

  A ranch woman would have known to climb the outside rails of the corral, where she would have been perfectly safe from the milling longhorns. Rather than explaining, he said, “Hang on.”

  It didn’t take more than two minutes to get the last of the
cattle into the corral, but his mother never let up talking the whole time.

  “I’m Jake’s mother,” she said to his wife. “Welcome to Texas. You must be Miranda.”

  He grimaced when his wife politely answered, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, please, call me Cricket.”

  Jake felt a rush of resentment. His mother had never asked Priss to call her Cricket. To Priss she’d always been Mrs. Creed, and then Mrs. Blackthorne. Of course, Priss had been a kid when she’d first met his mother and the formal address had kind of stuck.

  “What happened, Jake?” his mother asked.

  “Had to put Red down.”

  “You all right?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  His wife shot him a shocked look, but to her credit, she didn’t contradict him. Of course, the instant he got off the horse, his mother was going to see the truth. He’d just have to make sure she didn’t hang around that long.

  He closed the corral gate on horseback, a tricky maneuver that wasn’t made any easier by the woman sitting in his lap. “Thanks, Mom,” he said when he was done. “I’m sorry to send you home without a cup of coffee, but the house is—”

  “Oh, dear,” she interrupted with a laugh. “I forgot to tell you. I brought Nash and Noah with me. They’re inside right now having lunch with Slim and the baby and Miranda’s brothers.”

  Jake groaned inwardly. There was no hiding his infirmity now. He rode to the kitchen door with his mother, then eased Miranda off the horse and onto her feet. He saw her cheeks flush when she stumbled, but she quickly caught her balance and walked up the back porch steps with his mother.

  Maybe he could hang out in the barn until his mother left.

  “I’m going to put the horses away,” he said.

  “Can you do that with your injured ankle?” Miranda asked.

  Jake closed his eyes and groaned aloud.

  “You’re hurt?” his mother said, stopping in her tracks. She turned back to him and asked, “How bad is it?”

  Through teeth gritted with pain and frustration he said, “I don’t know.”