The Cowboy & The Shotgun Bride (The Brides of Grazer's Corners #1)

by Jacqueline Diamond

  “Why?” The moon had come out, and in its glow Kate’s face took on a cool watchfulness.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess she sort of blamed me.”

  “Did you explain to her what happened with Billy Parkinson and the loan? And how hard you were working to get the ranch back?”

  He reflected for a moment. “No. What happened was, I dropped her father a note. My aunt had died the summer before, and my uncle and I didn’t keep in real close contact. Loretta was only fifteen, and it never occurred to me to talk to her personally.”

  “Where’s your uncle now?” Kate asked.

  “Japan. He works for a multinational company,” Mitch said. “I called him a few days ago, but he hadn’t heard from his daughter.”

  “Wasn’t he worried?”

  “He’s not the worrying kind.” Mitch’s uncle Bert had a placid outlook on life. With him, it was out of sight, out of mind. “The women in our family are mostly like Grandma Luisa, kind of excitable. My aunt was, for sure. But they tend to marry easygoing men.”

  “Well, whether we find Loretta tomorrow or not, I think I should be the one to make the approach,” Kate said.

  This was Mitch’s problem, and his family. “I can handle this myself.”

  “Oh?” From the way her eyebrows lifted and she pushed her glasses higher on her nose, he could have sworn she really was his law professor and he’d just given the wrong answer. “And what will you do when someone runs screaming for the telephone and calls out the SWAT team?”

  Mitch had to admit he was fighting the inevitable. “Now that you mention it,” he admitted, “you have a point.”

  “We’ll make contact together. My presence may reassure Loretta, and if we find just Horst, he might remember me from the luncheon,” Kate said. “I made the scholarship presentation.”

  And a music academy was more comfortable territory for a school principal than for a cowboy, even one with a law degree, Mitch thought ruefully. “Thanks. But I don’t want to impose on you too much.”

  “Don’t worry.” She collected their empty paper plates and tossed them into a trash receptacle. “I’m just trying to bring those bandits to justice while they’re still near my jurisdiction. If they’re long gone, I’ll take a bus back to Grazer’s Corners tomorrow.”

  “Fair enough.” He tried to erase any hint of regret from his voice. “We should make an early night of it, then.”

  A glint of moonlight caught her a glancing blow, or perhaps he simply hadn’t noticed her wistful expression before. Tonight, Mitch recalled, was supposed to be her wedding night.

  With that lumbering oaf, Moose! But, he reminded himself, he ought to show more respect for Kate’s judgment. The man must have qualities that weren’t immediately apparent.

  Wrapped in thought, Mitch carried the pots inside. Maybe Moose did know something. At least he was willing to trust Kate to do things her own way.

  Mitch was having a hard time letting her take the lead but, at least as far as tomorrow was concerned, he knew he should trust her.

  He’d always been a loner, intent on solving his problems himself. He hadn’t asked for any help from Uncle Bert, and it had never occurred to him to consult Loretta about his plans to regain the High C.

  If he had, maybe she wouldn’t have gone to work for Billy Parkinson. She must have had some ulterior motive, since secretarial work wasn’t her career interest.

  He wished he were the sort of person his cousin had felt she could confide in. But to achieve that, he would have had to open up to her first.

  As he scrubbed the pots, Mitch reflected that he had never considered the value of letting others see his vulnerabilities. How ironic that he was learning this lesson from Kate, who belonged to another man.

  Tomorrow, they would try their best to function as a team. Then they would go their separate ways.

  That was fine with him. Until he got this mess cleared up and reclaimed the ranch, he was better off working alone.

  Chapter Five

  Kate awoke to the scent of cedar and a lingering, subliminal essence that clung to the sheets and pillowcase. The effect was so fundamentally masculine that she felt as if she had lain all night in a man’s arms.

  For one confused moment, she felt a spurt of joy. It was the morning after her wedding night, and somehow the magic must have happened. A sense of wellbeing mixed with excitement prickled through her body, and she prepared to nestle against her husband.

  But when she rolled onto her side, there was no warm body beside her. Besides, surely this pleasurable ache ought to be accompanied by a dazzling awareness of how it felt to make love.

  Then she blinked her eyes open. From where she lay on a shelflike bed overlooking the interior of the camper, she could see that it was definitely not home. Neither hers, nor Moose’s.

  She felt a twinge of disappointment, followed by embarrassment. Of course she hadn’t had a wedding night, because she hadn’t completed her wedding.

  Images flooded her brain: Bandits. Shots whizzing through the church. Moose scampering for cover. Charity throwing a film can.

  Somehow, in the course of one day, the world had tilted. Nothing was the same, and she wasn’t sure it ever could be again.

  Kate didn’t exactly regret coming on this trip. She just wished she could get back to feeling like her old self.

  She groped for her glasses and was adjusting them into place when, at the far end of the camper, the door opened. A well-shaped silhouette appeared in a wash of sunlight.

  “Morning.” Mitch angled inside and through the narrow path between the walled-off bathroom and the stove. With his hair slicked back and his face freshly washed, he looked remarkably cheerful for having spent the night sleeping on hard ground. “Care for breakfast?”

  “Where did you clean up?” Kate asked.

  “There’s a stream down the road a piece. Is that your way of saying hello?”

  “I’m grumpy in the morning.” Her parents had given her a wide berth upon arising, and she had assumed a husband would soon learn to do the same. But Mitch wasn’t her husband. “Excuse my manners. How are you?”

  “Hungry,” he said. “Frozen waffles okay?”

  “You’ve got a microwave?”

  “Toaster oven.” He set to work, humming a tune she couldn’t catch. Kate was impressed by the grace with which the tall man moved through the confined area.

  She doubted she would be very graceful herself when she tried to squeeze past him to the bathroom. There was another problem as well: while most of the items in her suitcase were of the rough-and-ready variety, the same could not be said for her nightgown.

  Left to her own devices, Kate would have taken one of her usual flannel gowns. But, in anticipation of his wedding night, Moose, who had an entire department store at his disposal, had presented her with a diaphanous concoction trimmed in black lace that hid only the most strategic points.

  In Kate’s opinion, it had been unsuitable for a tent. It was even more unsuitable to wear while scooting through a camper in front of a total stranger.

  “Cover your eyes,” she said.

  At the counter, Mitch turned from preparing breakfast to stare at her. “Why?”

  “Just pretend you’re a gentleman, and do as I ask.”

  His jaw worked as if he wanted to argue. Kate was in no mood to debate the issue, so she snatched a change of clothes from her suitcase and threw back the covers.

  Mitch’s eyes widened and one of his hands jerked against the hot toaster oven. He snatched it back with a curse, followed by a muttered apology.

  “Next time, listen to me,” Kate snapped as she marched toward the bathroom. Mitch moved out of her way so fast, she might have been made of acid.

  Changing clothes inside the tiny chamber was like trying on a bathing suit. Kate tugged and wiggled and squirmed, trying to get the nightgown off and her jeans .on without banging into the sink. Next time, she was going to throw the man out of the cam
per entirely so she had enough space.

  She didn’t understand why fellows made such a big deal about women’s bodies, anyway. Moose always seemed to be staring at the outline of her breasts beneath her blouse. Why couldn’t adults just go about their business and leave sex for wedding nights and other appropriate occasions?

  Putting on her contact lenses proved even more of a challenge because there was no stopper in the sink. Finally Kate laid a washcloth over the drain, just in case she dropped one.

  When she emerged, Mitch handed her a plate but kept his gaze averted. Honestly! Anyone would think she was Medusa, whose image would turn him to stone.

  They ate outside, to the delight of a pair of squirrels that kept darting in to grab crumbs. One of them flashed by so close its tail brushed Kate’s ankle.

  “They certainly are tame,” she said.

  “Wild animals should never get this used to people.” Mitch finished another bite of waffle. “Somebody’s likely to eat them for dinner.”

  “Are you always this cynical?” she asked.

  “When a man lives close to nature, he has to take a realistic view.” Lounging sideways on the picnic bench with his Stetson slightly askew, Mitch looked as if he were taking a break in the middle of a cattle drive.

  Kate wondered what impression he made on clients. Maybe residents of Gulch City, Texas, were accustomed to cowboy lawyers.

  After cleaning up, they headed for the freeway. Barely had they reached it when the truck began rattling and vibrating.

  “What’s wrong?” Kate glanced nervously at a highway patrol car cruising past.

  Mitch grimaced. “Could be a lot of things. Lucky we’re near Fresno. On the other hand, it’s Sunday. Not the best day to find spare parts.”

  He wasn’t kidding. The vibrations had worsened by the time they exited the freeway, and the morning droned by as he phoned all over town, then chugged the truck by fits and starts to the only secondhand parts yard that was open.

  Kate sat on a rickety folding chair and watched while he made repairs. Every time a police car rolled by on the street, her throat tightened and her hands got clammy. Even though she’d done nothing wrong, she felt like a criminal.

  Maybe she had done something wrong by not turning Mitch in. It was all very well to tell herself that she had him in custody, but she doubted a judge would see it that way. Especially since she wasn’t even officially the sheriff yet.

  Besides, she had no intention of locking him up. Maybe Mitch was guilty and lying like a rug, but Kate didn’t think so. She’d always trusted her instincts, and they’d never led her wrong before.

  The one good thing, she told herself, was that evidently Moose had respected her wishes and not called the authorities. He wasn’t such a bad fellow, really.

  He could be a lot of laughs, emceeing concerts in the park. They had fun at the high school football games, too, cheering alongside their friends.

  Life with him wouldn’t be bad. It would certainly beat sitting next to a broken-down truck watching Mitch, hands and face smeared with grease, poke through a pile of salvaged parts trying to find the one that fit.

  She tried not to think about how that grease emphasized Mitch’s high cheekbones, or how his eyes burned at her whenever he turned in her direction. When he took off his shirt and the sunlight gleamed on the golden expanse of his chest, she beat a hasty retreat behind one of her education journals.

  By the time the truck purred once more, they were both exhausted. With little discussion, they returned to the same campsite for a second night.

  At dinner, Kate found the squirrels more pesky than cute. But at least, the next morning, Mitch hightailed it out of the camper in a hurry when she was ready to get dressed.

  AT THE SUNGOLD HILLS Academy of Music, glass buildings reflected the rolling emerald lawns and lavender-plumed jacaranda trees. It looked a lot more modem than the law school Mitch had attended.

  “You suppose this Horst fellow is still around?” he asked as they strode along the sidewalk. “Loretta graduated last year.”

  “I got the impression he was a few years younger than Loretta,” Kate answered.

  Just before they arrived, she had changed into her tailored jacket and slacks. Mitch had figured at first it was female vanity, but now he could see that her professional image made them look more like visiting professors than intruders.

  Loretta must have enjoyed this place, Mitch mused as they passed a flower bed spilling over with fanciful yellow-and-orange poppies. He wondered, though, if it had seemed kind of tame, given the way she liked to hop onto a quarter horse and head out onto the range to round up stray calves.

  It had been a shock when she turned up four months ago to take a job as secretary of the building-supply business that Billy had started at the ranch. Mitch almost didn’t recognize her the first time he saw her in town, buying computer paper at the general store.

  The chubby teenaged figure had slimmed down and the wiry brown hair had been tamed into collar-length waves. When she spotted him, her olive-colored eyes narrowed, and she’d turned away.

  He’d tried to talk with her several times, even calling her at the ranch. Finally she’d E-mailed him to say that she had no interest in speaking with him, then or ever.

  People in Gulch City had speculated that Billy might have made some kind of deal with her, maybe to prevent her from joining Mitch’s lawsuit. Grandpa hadn’t left a written will, but since Loretta’s parents never showed any interest in running the ranch, it had come to Mitch’s father by default.

  Loretta might have a legal claim to share in the ownership. But even if she was willing to sell her half to Billy, that didn’t explain why she would choose to work for him.

  Or why she had run out on Mitch when her testimony was the only thing standing between him and a possible death sentence. Could she really be that angry, or was she afraid for her own safety?

  He wanted some answers, and with Kate’s help he might get them today.

  They went up a set of wide steps into the administration building. Kate asked the way to the registrar’s office in such authoritative tones that the cheekylooking receptionist called her ma’am when she answered.

  The building’s soaring interior echoed with the click of Mitch’s boots as they followed the young woman’s directions. There was hardly anyone around, he noted as they circled an indoor fountain beneath a glass dome. Why had the college built itself such a palace?

  He supposed that modern-day administrators must have the same mind-set as pharaohs in ancient Egypt. They built huge edifices, not because they needed them, but because being surrounded by grandeur made their own puny selves seem more magnificent.

  It was not a charitable observation. But in his quest for legal justice, Mitch had received shoddy treatment from bureaucrats and magistrates in architecturally pretentious halls back in Texas, and he still held a grudge.

  At the registrar’s office, they were confronted by a broad marble counter large enough to accommodate a dozen clerks. The entire outer room was staffed by a single woman, so young she might even be a student.

  Again, Kate’s confident manner worked its magic. The clerk couldn’t reveal Horst’s off-campus address or telephone number, but she confirmed that he was still enrolled.

  “He’s probably signed up for one of the practice rooms.” She gave them a campus map and circled Building E. “You’ll find the students’ names posted on schedules on the doors. Or you could stick a note on the bulletin board in the cafeteria.”

  “We’ll try the practice rooms,” Kate said. “Thank you.” They exited the cool building into the warm day and followed the map.

  As they approached Building E, Mitch heard the faint rumble of pianos and staccato bursts of song. Apparently even soundproofing didn’t completely contain the noise.

  Melodies and rhythms collided in the spring air. Not only was the sound jarring, but, given the way people kept starting and stopping, Mitch wondered how they ever w
orked up to an entire performance.

  At the ranch, his grandmother had sung effortlessly, although in a voice thinned by age. As a youngster, Loretta had mimicked her with ease.

  Since then, he knew that she’d soloed with her church choir and won several voice competitions. Mitch had never given much thought to what she might have studied at music school, though. He’d assumed that, when she sang, she simply opened her mouth and let the lovely sounds fly out.

  Now, hearing an older woman command a student to watch her phrasing, it occurred to him that the world of serious music was as alien to him as rocket science. He didn’t even know what phrasing meant.

  At the moment, it didn’t matter. The finer points of culture had vanished from Mitch’s sphere of attention ten years ago. And presumably from Loretta’s when she decided to get mixed up with the ranch.

  Ahead of him, Kate tapped up the steps into the building. They entered a hallway lined by heavy doors, each with a small window and, below it, a sheet with times and names.

  According to a posted notice, students could sign up to use the practice rooms for one hour at a time. Anyone who was more than five minutes late risked losing the room to the first comer.

  “Let’s split up,” Kate said. “You check that side.”

  “Right.” Mitch began skimming the lists.

  He had made it halfway down the corridor when a bell clanged, so loud he flinched. Kate hardly seemed to notice, at least not until the rehearsal rooms banged open and students stampeded out.

  “Must be lunchtime!” Mitch called above the thundering herd.

  She made a face, but didn’t try to shout over the din. From her frown, however, he got the impression that youngsters at Kate’s school would never, ever dare behave in such an uncouth manner.

  Then Kate turned abruptly as, swimming against the tide, a young man shouldered his way toward one of the rooms. He had a slight build and a thin face with a beaked nose. His most prominent feature, however, was a thick mop of shaggy black hair.