Seven Brides for Seven Texans Romance Collection

by Amanda Barratt

  “Well, you’re having way too much fun annoying her, but I guess you deserve a little fun. She seems like a lady who can take it.” Whit spread his lanky frame over the bed. “Are you going to read that letter or hold it all night?”

  “Guess I’ll read it.” Chisholm rubbed his chin.

  “’Bout time.”

  Chisholm unsealed the envelope and took out the paper. His chest squeezed as he read the words on the page. Fear and frustration grew inside him and tangled like two tumbleweeds in a dust storm.

  Whit sat back up, his bushy brows scrunched together. “What’s it say? Bad news?”

  “Sorta.” A weight settled on Chisholm’s chest. “For some strange reason, my pa has issued an ultimatum.” He stared at the words on the page. “He wants to see each of his sons married and settled. He’s given us one year to find a bride.”

  “The whole lot of you? All seven brothers have to marry up in one year?”

  Chisholm nodded. “Or we lose our share of the ranch.” The words tasted bitter on Chisholm’s lips. “I can’t believe he’s doing this. My pa is a reasonable man, but this isn’t fair. I’m a Texas Ranger, and I took an oath to serve and protect. Between the Indians and the thieves, Texas is awash in miscreants. Who’s going to make this a civilized place to live if we Rangers take off willy-nilly to go courting?”

  Whit smoothed his thick mustache with his hand. “There are Rangers who have wives. Some have even traveled with us.”

  “I remember a few, but I can’t drag a soft little lady into a life like that. It wouldn’t be right, and I can’t take a wife and simply put her up at the ranch while I go off to do my job. I’d want to be there to take care of her.” Chisholm stuffed the letter back in the envelope. “I think I have no choice.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to pray about it, but as near as I can tell, I’ll have to give up my share of the ranch.”

  Chapter Three

  Humming “Fairest Lord Jesus,” Caro looked out the window of the summer kitchen. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, pinking the Texas sky and swallowing the night stars. She gave the scrambled eggs a final stir before heaping the yellow curds in a serving dish and setting them on the tray. Besides the eggs, she’d made fresh biscuits and gravy. Too bad the two Texas Rangers would be eating a congealed blob, but it wasn’t her fault she’d not yet heard a peep out of either of them. She’d told them breakfast would be at daybreak, and she always kept her word—especially today.

  She hefted the tray into her arms and carried it through the summer kitchen’s door and into the main house. When she found Chisholm standing there, she came to an abrupt stop. The dishes clinked and the tray nearly toppled.

  Chisholm Hart grabbed the edge. “Here. Let me take that.” He took the tray and walked through the house’s regular kitchen and into the dining room. After setting the tray on the sideboard, he turned to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you earlier.”

  Caro nodded mutely. This tough Ranger apologized? She began unloading the tray and arranging the food. It was going to be hard to remember how much she didn’t like him if he kept being so nice. “I didn’t realize you were awake.”

  His rain-blue eyes lit up. “I’ve already spent some time with the Lord, and I’ve got Whit’s horse and mine saddled. I’ll hitch a buggy for you after breakfast.”

  “I don’t need a buggy.” She planted her fisted hands on her hips. “I ride as well as any man.”

  “I saw that yesterday, but I thought you might be more comfortable in a buggy.” Chisholm poured a cup of coffee. “Whit will be down in a minute.”

  His consideration touched her. She stepped aside and motioned to the spread on the sideboard. “Eat up before it gets cold.”

  “Ladies first.”

  “But…”

  “It’s going to be a long morning, and you need to eat. Besides, we can discuss our plans.” He picked up a plate and handed it to her. “Please.”

  Caro heaved a sigh. How did this man catch her off-guard at every turn? And how was she supposed to continue disliking him if he was a God-fearing gentleman? She’d prayed as her mother had recommended last night. She begged God to heal her aching heart, and she’d asked for an extra measure of kindness to get through the day. Maybe making the Ranger extra-nice was God’s doing.

  Whit thundered into the dining room as she finished filling her plate. He dropped into a chair and released a loud yawn. “The rooster isn’t even awake yet.”

  “Coffee?” Caro held up the pot.

  Whit ran his hand through his bed-tousled, sandy hair. “Just give me the whole pot.”

  Chisholm loaded his plate with scrambled eggs. “In case you couldn’t tell, mornings and Whit aren’t really on speaking terms.”

  Caro laughed and passed the newcomer a steamy cup. A few minutes later, she found herself sitting across from the two Texas Rangers, enjoying the flaky biscuits and creamy gravy she’d whipped up before the sun had made an appearance. The Rangers didn’t know it, but she’d also packed biscuits and ham in a lunch basket for them along with cinnamon-and-sugar-dusted churros. Perhaps it would make up for her cruel act last night. She’d put so many hot peppers in Chisholm Hart’s tamale that his mouth was probably still burning today. At the time, she felt like he deserved it, but later guilt had poked at her for hours, making her toss and turn. Perhaps her mamá was right. He reminded her too much of her father. Today she would be as helpful as possible. Besides, it was in her best interest. The sooner the Ranger solved the rustling mystery, the sooner he’d leave.

  Chisholm pushed back from the table. “Whit, I’ve been thinking. I reckon we shouldn’t remove Ricardo Alvarez off the list of suspects just yet.”

  “He is innocent!” Caro set down her cup so hard coffee sloshed out. She bit her lip and chastised herself for not controlling her tongue, but these two men did not know Ricardo like she did. “You have my word. He is not involved.”

  “Miss Cardova.” Chisholm stood and put on his hat. “If, as you said, Mr. Alvarez was not responsible for the rustling, why were those men so ready to lynch him?”

  Caro stiffened, fear making her stomach tighten like a noose. “I have no idea.” If she explained, it would only make Ricardo look guiltier, and she had to protect him at all costs.

  Chisholm frowned. “I don’t believe you.”

  “That, sir, is your choice.” Tears burned in her eyes. She rose, gathered the plates, and swept from the room.

  So much for getting along.

  Chisholm slipped Bullet, his golden palomino, a lump of sugar as he watched Caro sashay across the courtyard toward the buckskin mare Ricardo Alvarez had saddled for her. With her dark eyes and hair and wearing a bright yellow dress, she looked like a sunflower in full bloom.

  Caro slid a shotgun into the scabbard, then leaned close and spoke to Ricardo. Was she telling him that they still suspected he might be involved? Although Caro seemed genuine to the core, Chisholm couldn’t help but worry she might be fooling them. It was the hardest part of this job—always suspecting the worst in folks—but he’d learned to trust his instincts.

  “They look pretty chummy.” Whit mounted Buckshot, his spotted pinto. “Guess you can check her off your list of possible brides.”

  “Caro Cardova Valenzuela? My bride?” Chisholm let out a hearty laugh, and Caro turned. “You’d better watch your back. I think she’d poison you for suggesting such a thing, and then shoot me for letting you think it.”

  Ricardo held the horse as Caro mounted and then led her over to them. “Take care, mi prima.”

  Prima? Chisholm racked his brain for the translation. He’d spent hours with Perla, the Harts’ Mexican cook. After his ma died, she’d been like a second mother to him, and he’d learned to speak Spanish quite well from her. So, why was the meaning of that word escaping him? Was it a term of endearment? Ricardo turned to Chisholm. “Señor Reynolds suggested you start at the Mesquite. They’v
e been hit the hardest by the rustlers. He sent word you were coming, so they’ll be expecting you.”

  “Thank you.” Chisholm nodded. “And don’t worry. We’ll bring Miss Cardova back safe and sound.”

  Ricardo shared a look with Caro. “She can take of herself, señor. It’s you who should be careful.”

  Chisholm nodded toward Caro to lead the way, but inside he chafed at the idea that the Mesquite Ranch’s owner and hands had been forewarned of their arrival. If anyone there was involved, the advance notice would give them ample time to cover up their participation.

  He rode alongside Caro on the dirt road with Whit bringing up the rear. The morning sun had claimed the day by the time they finally got on the road, but one thing was for sure. Caro had been telling the truth about her riding ability. Although he’d witnessed her skill the day they met, he was even more impressed today. Not only was her riding excellent, but when they asked her some questions, her knowledge of the area proved outstanding, and she was truly helpful. She’d explained that the Mesquite Ranch sat between Señor Reynolds’s Walking Diamond and another ranch called Tall Trees.

  For the next few hours, they prodded her with more questions about the land and the ranch hands in the area. From what she’d heard, Tall Trees had only lost a few head, while the Mesquite had been hit hard by the rustlers, losing over fifty head. Reynolds claimed the Walking Diamond was down about thirty.

  Chisholm did a quick mental calculation. If these men drove their cattle to Wichita, they could make over twenty dollars a head, so that meant combined they’d lost well over $1,600. No wonder he and Whit had been sent here to capture the rustlers.

  Whit scratched his head. “What about the layout of the land? Is there somewhere a rustler could hide eighty-plus longhorns?”

  “The Mesquite has a lot of hills and valleys, but I can’t imagine being able to hide that many cattle anywhere. The men are just finishing spring roundup, so there are cowboys out and about all the time.” Caro kept her eyes trained on the road without meeting the gaze of either man. She might be cooperating, but she seemed determined to keep a distance. “I’m thinking that we may have several culprits working as a team.” Chisholm reined Bullet in when they reached a creek. “What do you say we get off this road and do a little sightseeing before we get to the Mesquite?”

  Caro laughed as she dismounted. “This is Brady Creek. It runs between the Mesquite and the Walking Diamond, so you are already there, but we can go wherever you’d like.”

  Chisholm led his horse to the water. “You’re cooperating?”

  “For the moment.” She smiled. “But I don’t think Señor Slade will cooperate if you delay much longer.”

  “Whit, why don’t you go on to Slade McCord’s ranch while Miss Cardova and I check things out around here? We’ll catch up to you at the ranch in a little while.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” His stomach groaned. “Why didn’t we pack any grub?”

  “It’s not even noon yet.” Caro rolled her eyes, and then dug into her saddle bag. She produced three bundles wrapped in linen napkins. “Perhaps you can leave for the Mesquite after your second breakfast.”

  Chisholm chuckled, and the three of them sat on an outcropping of rocks. Both men unfolded their napkins and started to dig in.

  “Gentlemen,” Caro spoke firmly, “there will be no heathens around me. I expect a proper grace even out here.”

  Chisholm’s gut cinched. He should have thought of that, and did she really think him a heathen? He could set her straight on that when they left. For now, he took off his hat and offered a prayer of thanksgiving, making sure to add a thank-you for Caro Cardova’s thoughtfulness.

  At the “amen” he looked up to see her smiling, but she tugged the frown back in place within a fraction of a second. She might love the Lord, but she wasn’t about to let any joy into her heart.

  He drew in a long, slow breath. He’d have to do his best to change that. After all, it was the Christian thing to do.

  Caro took in the man kneeling before her as he studied the prints they’d found in the mud. His rolled-up shirtsleeves revealed the hills and valleys of his muscular arms. Even though she seldom responded, he’d kept up a steady conversation while they’d been riding along the creek, and all the while he’d never stopped scanning the area.

  She took a deep breath and willed herself to relax. It had been a long time since she’d felt safe enough to do that. Chisholm’s presence might annoy her unbearably, but his demeanor certainly made her believe he was able to handle almost any situation. And his dimples made it easier to tolerate anything that came out of his mouth.

  They’d come nearly full circle when he dismounted to examine something.

  “These are fresh.” He stood and wiped his hands together. “But that doesn’t mean much. Let’s give the horses a break.”

  Caro dismounted and led her horse, Angel, to the nearest mesquite tree. She slipped the reins around a low branch and secured them.

  Chisholm brought Bullet alongside. “Hey, you used a bank robbers’ knot. I’m impressed.”

  “You didn’t think I knew how to tie my horse?”

  “Of course I did, I just didn’t think you’d know to tie it that well.”

  “Ranger Chisholm, I am full of surprises.” She flashed him a little smile.

  “Of that I have no doubt.” He pointed to a large rock. “I think we’ve earned a break, too.”

  The stiff breeze had loosened several strands from Caro’s braid, and she paused to tuck them behind her ear. When she turned, Chisholm was staring at her. The look in his eyes made her breath catch, but he turned away, like a boy who’d been caught stealing cookies.

  He cleared his throat and sat on the boulder. “So, Miss Cardova, how many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  “I am an only child.”

  “Must be nice.” He chuckled. “I’ve got six brothers.”

  “Seven boys? Your poor mother.” Caro couldn’t imagine living in a house full of men.

  “My mother died during the war, so except for our cook, we have a house full of men.”

  “I’m sorry that you lost your mother.” The familiar hole in her own grieving heart throbbed.

  “It’s just you and your mother here, right? Where’s your father?”

  “He died in a rebellion.” The pain and bitterness came out in her voice.

  Chisholm adjusted the hat over his eyes, and he spoke in a solemn tone. “In Mexico? In a war?”

  “No, there was no war.”

  “Then what was he fighting for? He must have had a good reason to leave you and your mother.”

  “Does it make a difference if his cause was just?” She swallowed hard, emotion clogging her throat. “Either way it is the same for us. He is gone, and we are alone.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “But we are strong, and we can take care of ourselves. We came to Texas to escape the effects of my father’s choices, and we were blessed to find work at Señor Reynolds’s ranch. God has taken care of us.”

  “And I’ll pray that He continues to do—”

  A shot echoed through the valley, and a bullet whizzed between them.

  Chapter Four

  Chisholm half-dragged, half-carried Caro behind the boulder. He covered her body with his own and drew his sidearm. Another shot rang out and sailed over their heads.

  “Stay down!” He needed to get a look at where the shots were coming from, but did he dare trust Caro to remain behind the boulder?

  He lifted his head and caught a glint off a rifle on the opposite hill. He could return fire, but a handgun wouldn’t begin to make it that far. He lowered his head, pressing Caro’s down as well.

  “Get off me!” She shoved against him. “And why aren’t you shooting back?”

  For all her bravado, her body trembled against his chest, and he pulled her closer. “Too far. It would be a waste of bullets. We’re pinned down for the moment.”

  Blood rushed i
n his ears, and he fought the urge to dive from their location. He chanced another glimpse in the shooter’s direction. No shots. Where was the man now?

  “Is he gone?” Caro whispered.

  “I’m going to check. Caro, keep your head down.” Chisholm rolled to his side and eased out from behind their cover. He took off his hat and tossed it in the air. If someone was out there, they’d fire at the motion.

  Nothing.

  He climbed to his feet, his gaze never leaving the open area between the two hills.

  “Is it clear?” Caro peeked her head over the boulder.

  “If it wasn’t, you’d be dead.” He held out his hand, and to his surprise, she took it. Her wobbly legs betrayed her, and she’d have fallen if Chisholm hadn’t caught her. “Easy.”

  Caro let him hold her for only a second before she yanked away, but it was a delicious second. The strong desire made his breath hitch.

  She hugged herself. Was she as rattled as he was by the contact? Seeming to come to her senses, she shook the dust off her skirt. “Someone doesn’t want us here.”

  “I got that message loud and clear.”

  “We can take a shortcut from here to where we saw the shooter perched. I know the way.”

  Chisholm retrieved his hat. “I’ll come back later. It’s my duty to find these criminals, not yours.”

  A stony expression fell over Caro’s face, and all the progress he’d made with her seemed to wither. What had he said?

  “Caro, let’s get our horses and go meet Whit.”

  Well, he’d used her name again, and she hadn’t slapped him, so maybe not all of the progress was gone.

  “Ranger Hart, I realize it’s not my duty.” She said the last word as if it were bitter on her tongue. “But I suggest we investigate the area where the shooter was sitting before the trail grows cold.”

  “If you call me Chisholm, we have a deal.”

  “Then, let’s get moving—” She paused. “Chisholm.”

  He liked the sound of his name on her lips. He blinked. Had he been staring at her lips? Good heavens. If he was attracted to Caro Cardova, only one thing was for sure: He’d been away from womenfolk way too long.