"We should go, now. This place is—"
"Figured we'd be able to work out our housing problem if we had some food. You've got to be hungry. I sure am."
"Food?" She stopped in her tracks and stared up at him. "You have coffee and food?"
"Powdered eggs, some dried meat, juice, some canned chocolate pudding and—"
She pushed past him into the house, catching the aroma of coffee. She could hold on to what was left of her self-control, couldn't she? At least for another half-hour. Brice had food. He had chocolate. Life on a ranch wasn't all bad.
"The coffee's hanging over the fire," he called, following her inside. "I don't have anything cooked yet, but—"
"Give me a pan, then stand aside. My stomach's so empty, it thinks my throat's been cut."
He laughed. It was a great laugh. She hadn't heard it much over the years. Then again, the two of them hadn't had much to laugh together about.
He said, "That doesn't sound like a phrase I've ever heard around the bank. What happened to Prudence Randolph, city-slicker and sophisticated lawyer?"
"She died of starvation a half-hour ago. Which way to the kitchen? You do have a can opener, don't you?"
"Never took you for the cooking kind, Pru."
She arched her left brow and gave him a sassy smile. "I putter in the kitchen once in a while when the cook has the day off. I might have burned down Pine Tree Ridge, but I never burn a casserole."
"Well, hell, Pru, if I'd known that, I'd have taken out more fire insurance and married you a long time ago." Then he snatched her around the waist, twirled her around and kissed her on the cheek. It was a light, friendly kiss, quick and easy, from someone who was having a little fun and appreciated food as much as she did at the moment. It was a little nothing-kiss.
Except, it was Brice's kiss, and that was definitely something.
She didn't want it to be something, of course. She wanted breakfast, or she wanted to skin Brice alive and tap-dance on his entrails for having tricked her. At least, that's what she thought she wanted—until she felt his solid chest touch hers, realized his arm was gently circling her waist, his breath warming her cheek. So she kissed him back, because she was a woman with woman feelings, and she'd simply die if she didn't. Hey, it was his fault. He was the one standing in that blasted doorway looking like the cowboy-of-the-month centerfold, the one who had irresistible kisses, no matter where they were planted.
His breath caught in surprise, and his eyes darkened as he stared at her. She touched his arms, feeling the hard muscles there. He stroked her back. His touch was gentle, caring. No one had hands like Brice, she was sure of it. Her heart thudded, then raced. His tongue grazed against hers, and heat pooled deep in her belly. Her bones turned to rubber. Her brain melted to Silly Putty.
She shouldn't have kissed Brice. It was on impulse, and it was a huge mistake. She should have gone into town for that coffee. She had to stop this now. She was not going to get involved with the guy who made her life miserable. Only, he didn't feel too miserable at all, right now. He felt great, and he made her feel pretty great, too.
She pulled back and stared up at him. "This … is … a really bad idea."
"Yeah." He stepped back from her and stuffed his hands in his back pockets. She was amazed how much she missed his warmth, his touch, his gaze meeting hers.
"We don't want to start anything, Brice. We don't trust or even like each other. Remember me? Prudence Randolph, bounty hunter of all things McCormack? Remember the disagreements we've had over the years? The yelling matches we've had?" She felt as if she was trying to convince herself as much as she was Brice. It was tough doing so while under the influence of strong arms, great hands and dark brown eyes.
"You're right. We're both just tired, not thinking too clearly. And we're hungry, really hungry, and we've been under a lot of stress."
"Yeah, hunger and stress can make people do strange things."
"Glad we got that straightened out."
"Yeah, me too—"
Suddenly steps thundered on the porch, drawing their attention to the front door. There was an angry knock. "Prudence!" called her father. "Are you in there?"
"Brice!" Granddad Wes called.
Pru watched the door fly open and both men stride inside, nearly wedging themselves in the entrance because the idea of one yielding to the other never crossed their minds. She hadn't even heard their cars drive up.
Brice stood beside her, casually draping his arm over her shoulders, then said, "What the hell are you two doing here? Don't either of you believe in knocking?"
Granddad Wes pushed his gray, weather-beaten Stetson to the back of his head and glared at Brice, then Prudence. "I didn't think there was time for knocking, since putting a McCormack and a Randolph together in one spot for any length of time has got to be as much trouble as five rattlers in a canoe. Fact is, I'm surprised as all get-out to see you both alive." He looked from Prudence to Brice and back again. A frown pinched his brow. "Never in all my born days did I figure on seeing a McCormack and a Randolph with their arms around each other, married or not."
"And that's exactly why we're here," Bob Randolph added as he folded his arms across his pristine white dress shirt, giving his daughter a hard look. "To remind you both just who the devil you are, and to end this here marriage once and for all."
* * *
Chapter 5
« ^ »
"How'd you find us?" Brice asked.
Granddad Wes stuffed his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans and rocked back on his boot heels. He focused on a spot just beyond Brice's ear. "Well, now, that's a mighty good question—yes, sir, it sure is. As luck would have it, Don Cory was out flying in his Cessna this morning, checking on his herd and all, and spotted your truck parked here. Gave me a call in case I was worried about you. Might friendly thing to do, wouldn't you say? Guess he gave old Randolph here a call, too."
Bob Randolph snarled, "Just who are you calling 'old,' McCormack? You're the prune-face around—"
"That's bull-honkey," Brice said to his granddad. "You can't lie worth diddly, never could. You got Cory to go looking for Pru and me, and Randolph here did the same."
"All I want to know," Bob Randolph said, squaring his shoulders in defense, "is why in thunder Pru would marry a McCormack in the first place? Makes no sense at all."
Wes said to Brice, "Don't you see that it's all wrong for you to be married to … her?" He nodded at Pru.
"For once in seventy years," chimed in Bob Randolph, "a McCormack's right. This marriage needs to end right now. Today."
Brice sighed and exchanged a look with Pru. They both knew that was impossible, unless every McCormack and Randolph felt like doing jail time whenever they tangled. Serenity would lose a big chunk of its population to the county jail if Judge Willis carried out his threat. And Willis wasn't known for idle threats.
Brice said, "I've got news for you both—Pru and I are exactly where we want to be at this very moment."
Granddad Wes said, "Then you're making a big mistake, boy. We need you back at the main house, to run the ranch."
"With you, Derek, Aunt Rose and Mamma there, it's crowded enough at the house, don't you think?"
"You're the one everybody relies on to make decisions and keep things going. You always have been."
"I'm a five-minute ride away, for crying out loud."
"Can't you see that this marriage idea is the Randolphs' way of getting their conniving clutches into the Half-Circle?"
"Ha!" countered Bob Randolph. "It's the McCormacks who promise the earth to get what they want, then leave you hanging high and dry." He turned to Prudence. "Look where this McCormack's got you living, girl. A miserable shack. This place is a dump, and I'm not having any daughter of mine living in a McCormack dump." He huffed and turned the color of a red spring poppy. "I ask you, is this any way to treat a wife? A loved one? I should say not. Brice is after something. Look at what McCormacks did to your great-gran
d-daddy, and Brice here's one of them. Fact is, he's head of 'em. Keep it in mind."
Prudence glanced up at Brice. He felt her stiffen, obviously remembering how he'd stretched the truth to the breaking point to get her here, where he wanted her.
Bob said, "I can tell by that look on your face, Prudence, that Brice has done something else besides move you to this hovel that's making you wonder just what his motives really are."
Brice bristled. "Like hell. I gave your daughter this house. It's a fine house. It needs work, but we can fix it—"
"You what?" Wes's eyes bulged and the purple vein at his left temple throbbed. "You gave away part of the Half-Circle to a Randolph? Have you gone plumb loco?"
Brice's throat went as dry as a pond in a Texas summer; suddenly he was feeling uneasy about what he'd done. "I only gave her the house, not the land." The excuse sounded lame even to his ears.
Granddad Wes gulped air, looking like a landed fish. "That means I'm standing smack-dab in the middle of a … a Randolph house? Have mercy! I've never been inside a Randolph house." He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, clearly stricken. "What did I tell you? Prudence here's already gotten her way, poisoning you against your own and leading you down the garden path so you'd give her the Half-Circle. How could you go and do that?" His eyes narrowed to thin slits. "Has this Randolph woman gone and bewitched you, boy?"
Pru slipped from Brice's arm and planted her fists on her hips. She glared at Wes. "I didn't poison anyone about anything, and I do not bewitch."
Pru might be outraged at Granddad Wes's accusation, but Wes was right, Brice realized. The Half-Circle was the life of the McCormack family. Even if the house was newly acquired and dilapidated, it was still part of the ranch. Brice should never have given it away, even if it was only for the time he was married to Pru. What had he been thinking? What if there was some glitch and he couldn't get it back? What if Pru refused to divorce him unless he gave her the house and the land? He wasn't bewitched. He was a plain old idiot.
But instead of saying that, Brice continued. "It's just a house, Granddad. Someplace for Pru and me to live." Pru smiled up at him way too sweetly, as daggers shot from her eyes. Today was going no better than yesterday; in fact, it was worse. He'd lost part of his ranch, and he and Pru were more at odds than ever. How could they straighten out this feud if the two of them couldn't even get along? "I'm still around to run the ranch and see to the oil wells. As far as you and the family are concerned, that's what's important. Pru and I will take care of the rest. We know what we're doing." He nearly choked on his own words.
"Well," Granddad Wes said, "don't go expecting me or any of your kin to come visiting in a Randolph house. It's the last place on earth we're aiming to be."
Bob Randolph said, "And I sure don't cotton to being on McCormack land any more than I have to, even if Randolphs do have a rightful claim to it now."
Granddad Wes rounded on Bob Randolph. "That's nothing but hogwash. You and your kin got no claim at all on anything McCormack."
"Says who?" Bob Randolph and Granddad Wes met toes and noses.
"Says me. You're nothing but a liar and a cheat and—"
"Stop," Pru said, glaring at her father. "This is getting us nowhere. Brice and I are married. Your fighting with Wes is not going to change that." Her voice was laced with steel. In all the years Brice had known her, he'd never heard her use that tone with her father. "Dad, you … you have to go."
Bob Randolph's eyes widened to cover half his face. "I beg your pardon?"
For a second Brice watched Pru decide between fight or flight. Fighting her dad was not typical of Pru—Brice felt certain of that. He watched as she straightened her shoulders, then walked to her dad, firmly took him by the elbow and led him out the door. Maybe today wasn't such a bad day, after all.
Bob Randolph looked completely thunderstruck, as Pru said, "I'll see you in town tomorrow, Dad. I'll be at the bank bright and early." She kissed him on the cheek and propelled him toward his Lincoln.
Brice put his hand on Granddad Wes's shoulders and escorted him out. "I'll check on that new stock we have coming in this afternoon. We can talk then. But you have to keep in mind, I'm staying married to Pru." Brice opened the door to Granddad Wes's pickup, and the older man got in.
With Pru at his side, Brice watched the Lincoln bounce down the lane, looking as if a pogo stick were attached to the undercarriage. The red truck didn't fare much better. He and Pru waved, smiled and looked lovey-dovey—until the two vehicles turned the last bend.
Then Pru faced him. Her eyebrows narrowed, and her back went ramrod straight. She glared, and her pupils were tiny little dots. "You did just what my dad said, you conned me. Told me a pack of lies to get me out here where you wanted me." She pulled in a deep breath. "You did just what your grand-daddy did, and I fell for it."
"Pru! I gave you a house, for crying out loud. A piece of the Half-Circle."
"Big whoop. You can have your doggone house back if you just take me into town. We'll live there."
He tramped toward his truck, fully intending to do as asked. After all, then he would get his house back. He really liked this house, and he'd fix it up with or without Pru. But he suddenly stopped, then retraced his steps beck to where Pru was standing. "Going into town is going to create more problems than it's going to solve."
Her eyes widened. "Because you don't happen to like town? Because it's not your wonderful ranch? Because you'll have to drive—"
"Because, city girl, town's neutral territory."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He pulled in a deep breath. "You think I conned you to get you out here—well, maybe I did. You got a piece of the Half-Circle, and I'm not feeling too good about that, either. So, we're both mad. But we have to stay right here until this marriage ends one way or the other."
"In your dreams, Brice McCormack."
Her eyes flashed like blue lightning, and a gentle breeze tangled her hair that was down and mussed instead of pinned up as usual. Did she have to look so damn beautiful when they were both spitting mad?
"Pru, think about it. If we live anywhere else, we'll have to put in a revolving door because neither family will stop trying to convince each of us to leave the other. There'll be fights and arguments and arrests galore. We'll spend most of our time in front of Judge Willis, bailing our families out of trouble because they're fighting over us. I'll never get any ranching done, and you can kiss tax deadlines goodbye. No one will ever believe we're happily married, and Willis will be madder than a beaver with a toothache."
He ran his fingers through his hair, then continued. "If we stay here, neither family will bother us. You heard them." Brice nodded toward the retreating clouds of dust. "McCormacks won't step in a Randolph home, and Randolphs won't step on McCormack land, making this a perfect place to hide out till Willis figures out he made a mistake marrying us."
"But … but the house is a dump."
He gave her a hard look. "I said I can fix it, and I can."
"When? In between roping and branding and whatever else you do?"
"It's this house or Randolph-McCormack bedlam. Take your pick. I'm going inside to cook us something to eat." He turned toward the house and called over his shoulder, "Let me know what you decide."
He expected to hear some sort of affirmative response to his proposal. After all, what other choice did they have? Instead, he heard his pickup roar to life. He turned in time to see it tear down the lane, spewing gravel and dirt, and hopping in and out of every pothole in sight. Well, hell, when he told her to get a four-wheel drive, he sure as hell didn't mean take his.
Damn the woman! Brice kicked at a clod of dirt, sending it airborne till it smacked against a tree. He had no idea if Pru was coming back, staying in town, or if she was going to keep on driving right out of Serenity and put this whole ordeal behind her.
The only thing Brice did know was that if he intended to meet up with Granddad Wes, he had a mighty lon
g walk back to the main house. He also knew Granddad and the rest of his kin would give him no end of grief once they learned just why Brice was on foot.
Being married to Prudence Randolph was a real pain in the backside, and he intended to tell her precisely that, if he ever laid eyes on her and his truck again.
* * *
Prudence turned off the lane—or as Brice called it, the two-track—and headed toward town. She needed to think things out and wanted nothing more than to drive straight to her house—her real house—and get a shower, clean clothes, hot food and chocolate. She always thought better with something chocolate in her stomach.
But she couldn't do any of those things. In fact, she couldn't go anywhere looking as she did in day-old clothes that she'd slept in. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the rearview mirror and bit back a scream. Puffy eyes, wild hair, no makeup. The day after her wedding people would ask questions. And she'd be sorely tempted to tell them what was going on, and that Brice McCormack was a no-account, double-crossing con artist who had given her a house that should be burned to the ground.
Of course, then everyone would know their marriage was a sham. The feud would be worse, Willis would know it was her fault, and Randolphs and McCormacks would go to jail. Not that she gave a gnat's eye about the McCormacks going to jail.
There was one person, however, who already knew all the sordid details, wouldn't mind listening to a few more, and would feed her if she dropped enough hints—Sunny Willis. Taking the next left, Prudence headed for the Willis house. With all her might she hoped that Sunny was home and that the judge wasn't. Prudence was in no mood to see that man, since he'd gotten her into this mess.
Prudence parked Brice's truck outside the Willises' sprawling ranch, followed the sidewalk lined with daffodils, then rang the bell. As she waited, Prudence gazed across the sprawling front lawn. It was hard to believe that just yesterday there'd been white tents, guests, a marriage ceremony and fistfights here. A truly memorable wedding in anyone's book.
COURT-APPOINTED MARRIAGE Page 7