Seven Brides for Seven Texans Romance Collection

by Amanda Barratt

  Oh, Bowie, what are we going to do?

  Bowie field-stripped his rifle, laying the pieces out on the low table he’d spread with newspapers and picking up the cleaning solvent. The clock on the mantel ticked loudly, and Stonewall snored softly on the rug in front of the fireplace.

  His house was almost everything he’d dreamed it would be. Cozy, inviting, a safe haven away from the world. Elise had done all of this for him. His house lacked nothing, except it wasn’t a home.

  The clock chimed, and he studied the bland face.

  What was she doing now? Who was she dancing with?

  He’d deliberately stayed in the barn late so he wouldn’t have to face her before her ride to the dance arrived. Coward that he was.

  Since Austin’s talk with him that afternoon, Bowie had thought of little else. Had he been holding on to his bitterness so he didn’t get hurt? Was it possible that Elise could really love him? Not his name, not his protection, not his money, but him?

  He knew he loved her. He had for some time. Maybe from the first time he smelled her jasmine perfume. He’d felt something for her the minute she’d taken his bandages from his eyes. He’d waited for her in the hospital every day, uneasy until she came into the ward.

  And she’d fought so hard to keep him at the hospital, and she’d cried when they’d hauled him away. He reached into his shirt pocket and took out the lace-trimmed handkerchief. It bore her initials, and he’d carried it with him for more than ten years, through the long months in prison camps, on the journey home after the War, on cattle drives. Elise had dropped it one day in the hospital, and he’d snatched it up, inhaling the scent of jasmine. The lace was frayed and the monogram stitching had almost all come loose. But he still had it, and if he hadn’t wanted to lose this small link to her, why was he sitting here in his empty house risking losing her love?

  Was he brave enough to be that vulnerable, to go to her with his heart in his hands and offer it into her safekeeping?

  Maybe not, but he had to try.

  He jumped up, startling Stonewall. Taking the stairs two at a time, he had no plan in mind other than to try to be the man Elise deserved. And that meant making some changes for her.

  Elise needed to get out of there. The ballroom closed in on her, the laughter and music and movement. It all meant nothing when her heart was breaking, when she carried this great emptiness with her. GW was saying something, but she could only think about getting away. She gathered her skirts and stood, but before she could take a step, her heart shot into her throat.

  Bowie.

  She blinked, sure she was imagining things, but it was him.

  He was so handsome, he took her breath away.

  The crowd parted, everyone staring as he glided toward her, catlike. He wore a black suit with a white shirt that showed off his tanned skin, and he had a determined gleam in his eye, but that wasn’t the most startling transformation,

  He’d pulled his hair back from his face and tied it behind his head … and he’d shaved off his beard.

  No rifle, no dogs, no protective barriers to hide behind. The black-powder burns and shiny scars so easily visible did nothing to detract from his appearance, and his eye patch was just a part of him.

  He came to a stop in front of her, not touching her. His family formed a circle around them, surprise and delight on their faces.

  “My knees are shaking.” He sounded hoarse.

  Tears burned her eyes at the vulnerability in his voice. “Mine, too.”

  “Elise Hart, I’m not good with words, and I know I don’t deserve a woman like you, but I’m asking you to be my wife, for real this time. I love you.”

  Several of her sisters-in-law sighed, and she thought she heard Hays whistle. Elise was overwhelmed by the sacrifice Bowie was making, coming to town, exposing his scars for all to see, and all for her. All because he loved her. Her voice had deserted her, but she nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Well, go ahead and kiss her already. I’m hungry.” Hays poked Bowie in the shoulder and everyone laughed.

  Bowie held his arms open, and Elise went into them. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, and a glimmer of fear shot into his eye, but she didn’t stop. She caressed his lean cheeks, admiring the strength of his jaw and chin. Her arms went around his neck, and he crushed her close, bringing his lips down on hers. She kissed him back with all the love in her heart, hardly believing that he was here and that he really loved her.

  The music started for the last waltz before supper, and Austin clapped Bowie on the back. “Dance with your bride already. She’s been waiting for you all night.”

  “Thanks, Austin. For everything.”

  His brother nodded and turned to his own bride.

  Elise went into Bowie’s arms, and he held her much tighter than convention dictated. Elise didn’t care a bit. She couldn’t stop touching his face and hair. Friends called to them, welcoming Bowie to the dance, and no one mentioned anything other than Christmas greetings. Even Miss Spanner smiled as she whirled by with Harley Burton.

  “This feels unreal,” she whispered.

  Bowie squeezed her tighter. “It’s real. We’ll make it real.”

  She didn’t know if she could stand the joy pulsing through her veins.

  When the dance ended, Elise found herself standing under a ball of mistletoe. Bowie looked up, and he smiled, a broad smile that showed his teeth. “Coincidence?” He gathered her close, kissing her thoroughly until her stays felt too tight and her head whirled.

  When he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers, taking deep breaths. “I love you, Elise Hart. I have for a long time.”

  “I love you, Bowie Hart, and I will forever.”

  GW strode over. “I don’t know what’s been going on between you two, but whatever it is, I’m glad it’s settled. And I don’t think anyone will mind if you don’t stay for supper. I remember my own newlywed days.” He grinned and tucked his thumbs and forefingers into his vest pockets, heading into the dining room with the rest of the party guests. As he turned the corner, he looked back and gave them a broad wink. “Merry Christmas.”

  Bowie threaded his fingers through Elise’s, laughing. “Well, Hart sons always listen to our pa. Guess that means I can take you home, wife.”

  She rested her head against his arm, still unable to believe how her night had changed from miserable to majestic in such a short time.

  When they reached the house, Gage was there to take the horses and buggy, and the minute he was out of sight, Bowie scooped Elise up in his arms. She squealed and flung her arms around his neck, but he didn’t stop, striding over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind them, and heading up the stairs. “I’ll have you know, I am never sleeping in that little bed across the hall again, and don’t think I don’t know what you were up to, woman, ordering such a large bed for in here and such short ones for the other rooms.”

  Elise laughed, kissed him on his scarred cheek, and said, “I was willing to try anything to get your attention.”

  “You’ve had my attention since the first time I smelled your jasmine perfume.” He set her down beside the bed. “And I can prove it.” He withdrew a scrap of fabric from his suit coat pocket.

  “What is that?” She took it, frowning.

  “It’s one of your hankies. You dropped it more than a decade ago in the hospital, and I’ve had it all these years. Having it got me through some tough times.” He trailed his finger down her cheek. “But having you is much better.”

  “Bowie,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him, clutching the handkerchief, overcome with love for him.

  “I love you, Elise,” he whispered against her hair. “I want to make you happy. I want to fill this house with kids and laughter and love. I don’t want you to ever regret marrying me.”

  She thought she might burst with happiness, with all the love he was offering her. It was more than she’d hoped for and everything she’d drea
med. “I can’t believe we’ve found love at last, after all these years.”

  Bowie reached out and shut the bedroom door, sealing them into a world of two.

  Epilogue

  by Erica Vetsch

  New Year’s Day, 1875

  7 Heart Ranch, Hartville, Texas

  GW sniffed and blinked hard, slowly walking through the dining room to stand in front of the portrait of his wife. The bundle in his arms squirmed and snuffled before quieting back to sleep.

  “Well, Victoria, we did it.” He eased the blanket back from the baby’s face. “I’d like to present Edmund Jackson Davis Hart, Jack for short. Your first Hart grandchild.” GW wiped away a tear with his shoulder. “Hays and Emma kept up with tradition. He’s named after the governor of Texas.”

  GW angled his chair at the head of the table so he could see the portrait and sat, glancing down at Jack’s full cheeks and head of dark hair, then back up at his wife’s lovely face.

  “I sure wish you were here to see him. He looks a lot like Hays. You always did have pretty babies, and it looks like the next generation will be just as handsome.”

  He surveyed the long dining room table, set for the New Year’s Day dinner. The number of chairs had doubled in the past twelve months. “Hard to believe it’s been a whole year, but what a year it was. All your boys are married now. You’d like their wives, every one of them.”

  Going down the table, he relived each romance: Hays’s whirlwind courtship of Emma, Chisholm’s falling for a Mexican beauty, Travis reconciling with his sweet Annie, Houston winning the love of his childhood sweetheart, Crockett doing a kind deed for his neighbors and ending up head over boots in love with Jane, Austin fixin’ to marry one gal and falling for her twin sister instead, and Bowie realizing he loved Elise and her happiness meant more to him than his own insecurities.

  “Yep, quite a year. Seven marriages, and a new grandbaby in twelve months. And another baby will be making his appearance soon. Probably another boy. Harts tend to throw boys. Though I wouldn’t mind a girl or two, just to keep things interesting.”

  Laughter came from the parlor across the hall. “You raised some mighty fine boys, Victoria, and smart, too. Travis guessed what was behind the codicil to my will, and he rounded on me pretty good for not telling him. He prescribed some new pills that he said should help with my heart trouble, and he said if I took it easy and did what he said, I should live for quite a few years yet, Lord willing. Which is good, because while I’m looking forward to seeing you again when the Lord calls me Home, I still have a lot to live for.”

  He rose, pressing a kiss against Jack’s forehead, and went to rejoin his family.

  Erica Vetsch is a transplanted Kansan now residing in Minnesota. She loves books and history, and is blessed to be able to combine the two by writing historical romances. Whenever she’s not following flights of fancy in her fictional world, she’s the company bookkeeper for the family lumber business, mother of two, an avid museum patron, and wife to a man who is her total opposite and soul mate. Erica loves to hear from readers. You can sign up for her quarterly newsletter at www.ericavetsch.com. And you can e-mail her at ericavetsch@gmail.com or contact her on her author Facebook page.