“That’s a scurrilous assumption, Your Honor.” Twigg shook his head as if such a notion was preposterous. “My client left his family in search of employment so he could support them. When he returned to Chicago, having procured a job in Indiana, he found his wife dead and his children gone. It has taken him several weeks just to track them down. Now all he asks is to be reunited with his family. He has no notion of any inheritance. He loves his daughters, and their rightful place is with them.”
“I ain’t going with him.” Deborah’s voice carried across the room.
The judge’s head snapped up from reading the telegrams. “What’s that? Young lady, you are not to speak here. This is a matter for grown-ups.”
“I don’t see why. We’re the ones everybody’s bickering over. Don’t we get a say? You send us away with him”—she jerked her thumb at her father—“and he’ll just smack us around for a while then skite out and leave us again, or dump us in an orphanage somewhere.”
Emmylou put her arm around Deborah and drew her down into her chair. “Shh, let Bear handle it.”
“Your Honor.” Bear stood. “What Deborah says is true. Just a few minutes ago, out in the hallway, DeWitt offered to sell the girls to me for a thousand dollars apiece.”
Twigg’s mouth fell open, and he glared at DeWitt. “You did what?”
“That ain’t true, Judge. He’s making that up to make me look bad.”
The judge removed his glasses and chewed on one of the ear stems. “What I wish was that we had the testimony of the children’s mother. These telegrams are quite damning, Mr. DeWitt, but you are the children’s father. I’m inclined to award you custody, as I am reluctant to separate children from their parents.”
Emmylou’s fingers hurt, she gripped them so hard. The girls were slipping away.
Bear jammed his hands into his coat pockets and sank into his chair once more. Then his head came up with a jerk, and he yanked his hand out, holding a crumpled envelope. “Snyder, wait a minute.” Tearing open the envelope, he scanned the page then handed it to his lawyer.
“Your Honor, you asked for the testimony of the children’s mother. I have it here.” Snyder read as he spoke. “Here in her own handwriting.” He passed it to the judge and turned to fire a hopeful look to Bear and Emmylou.
“Wait a minute, we’re supposed to just accept some bit of paper?” Twigg protested. “How do we know that’s legitimate? It could be a forgery.”
The judge held up his hand, reading the letter. When he finished, he lowered the paper and stared hard at DeWitt, who squirmed under the scrutiny.
“Mr. McCall, where did you get this letter?”
Bear motioned to Miriam. “It was pinned inside Miriam’s coat when she showed up in Colorado. Her mother had given it to her just before she died. I clean forgot I had it in my pocket, what with being surprised by getting three girls in the mail and all. If half that stuff is true, a man would be a criminal to give custody of those girls to a scoundrel like DeWitt.”
“That’s for me to decide. Now, where is this Miriam?”
Miriam slid off her chair, her face pale, her eyes uncertain.
“Young lady, did your mother write this letter, and did you give it to Mr. McCall yourself?”
“Yes, sir. Mama said not to give it to anyone else. She told us Bear would take care of us girls and not let anything bad happen to us.”
“And did your mother speak of your father?”
Miriam nodded. She looked fragile and resilient at the same time, needing someone to take care of her and yet so ready to care for her little sisters. Emmylou pressed her lips together to stop them trembling.
“Mama said we needed to go to Bear because if our pa ever came back, it would be bad for us. I don’t think Mama knew about any inheritance, but she wanted us to be safe. She knew we wouldn’t be if our pa got a hold of us. He’s mean, and he hits us. I was glad when he left.”
The judge nodded. “This is a weighty matter. I want you all to clear out and come back at noon, when I will have made a decision. Twigg and Snyder, if I have any questions, I’ll send my clerk to your offices.”
Emmylou’s knees wobbled as she rose and took Tabitha’s hand. It was nine o’clock now. Three more hours until they would know. She didn’t think she could stand it.
Bear lifted Tabitha onto his arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
He led them outside. Greg Snyder settled his hat on his head. “I’ll be at my office. You can wait there if you want.”
“No, thanks. We have a few errands to run. We’ll be back here at noon.”
They set off away from the courthouse. “Where are we going?” Emmylou asked.
“Figured we’d better do some shopping. The girls need new winter clothes, and so do you.” Bear hitched Tabitha higher. “And I want to buy some things for the cabin. We have a couple of new rooms to furnish, and I want you to have a stove so you don’t have to cook in the fireplace anymore.”
Emmylou trotted to keep up. “But don’t you want to wait until we hear from the judge?”
“Nope. He’s going to do the right thing.”
“How can you be sure?”
“The letter. If I’d only read the letter a long time ago, I would’ve gone straight to a judge and adopted those girls outright first thing.” He nodded toward the girls, who were looking in a store window. “We can talk about it more later, and you can read the letter, but I imagine the judge is doing some checking, and when he does, things will shake out the way we want.”
They entered the store, and Bear set Tabitha on the floor. “Buy what you need for the girls, and don’t skimp. I want them to have warm clothes and toys and books and whatnot. They’ve done without long enough.”
“Can we afford it? I’ll admit, for a minute I seriously thought you were going to take DeWitt up on his offer to sell you the girls, but then he named his price and I wanted to cry.”
Bear rubbed his chin, ruffling his shaggy beard. “Emmylou, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I figured I’d get around to it once I was sure of you, and last night …” A gleam entered his eyes, and she put her hands to her cheeks. “Well, last night, I decided I was sure of you. Sure enough that I’m pretty eager to get those new rooms finished on the cabin.” He winked, making her cheeks heat even more. “Truth is, I have more than enough money for you and the girls. I have a good claim. Been banking the gold I’ve been pulling out of the mountain a little at a time so as not to rouse too much suspicion that I’d hit a good strike.”
She blinked.
“You remember how I told you the woman I was supposed to marry left me at the altar for a richer guy? Well, I never wanted to be married for my money, so I just didn’t tell you. Truth is, you’re married to a rich man.”
Shaking her head, she grasped his fingers. “You’re a wonder, do you know that? Why didn’t you take DeWitt up on his offer then?”
“Because he never would’ve left us alone. What he wanted was tantamount to blackmail. A blackmailer never quits until he’s bled somebody dry. Don’t you worry. DeWitt will get what’s coming to him.”
Bear was lavish in his buying: laughing when the girls squealed over toys and books and candy and new clothes; insisting that Emmylou get herself a fancy dress in addition to more practical gear; and huddling with the girls, whispering and plotting something while Emmylou sorted through household goods and supplies to carry them through the winter.
The hands of the clock crawled toward noon, and they assembled at the courthouse half an hour early.
Bear paced the hall, and Emmylou fidgeted, half listening to Deborah as she sounded out the words in one of her new books. Emmylou prayed she’d get to take it back to the cabin.
When the judge called them in, Emmylou thought she might faint.
Everyone took their places, Bear and Mr. Snyder at one table, DeWitt and Mr. Trigg at the other. The judge wore a stern expression and nodded when a man slipped in the back and stood with hi
s hands folded at his belt.
“I’ve gone over the evidence, and I’ve sent a few telegrams myself this morning. What I’ve discovered is disturbing.” He lifted several sheets of paper. “Mr. DeWitt, based upon your late wife’s handwritten testimony, I’m awarding custody of Miriam, Deborah, and Tabitha DeWitt to Mr. and Mrs. McCall, and I’m placing you under arrest.” He nodded to the man in the back, who stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs. “I’m holding here a telegram from a Sheriff Kannick of Gary, Indiana, where you resided before coming here. According to him, you are wanted for embezzlement and fraud in Lake County, and will be held in jail here until such time as they can escort you back there to face charges.”
The sheriff slapped on the cuffs and dragged a protesting DeWitt from the room. Emmylou sagged into her chair, boneless with relief and surprise. Bear turned in his chair, grinning as he shook Mr. Snyder’s hand.
The judge wasn’t finished, however.
“Mr. McCall, in order to safeguard those children from having to go through something like this again, are you prepared to legally adopt them?”
“You bet your life, sir.” His confident voice rocketed around the room.
“Mrs. McCall?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I’d like nothing better.”
“Bring those young ladies up here.”
The girls filed through the swinging gate and stood in a row before the judge, in new dresses and shiny new shoes.
“This is permanent, you realize. You’ll be a family forever.”
“We want nothing more, Judge.” Bear put his arm around Emmylou’s waist.
The judge motioned for his clerk, who set a document on the bench before him. “I figured you’d agree, so I had my clerk prepare the paperwork.” He dipped his pen into his inkwell and scrawled his signature. “You two sign here and they’re all yours.”
Bear took the pen and signed then handed it to Emmylou. She wrote her name, Emmylou McCall, smiling when she saw “Courtney McCall” in bold letters above hers.
When the judge and the clerk left them alone in the courtroom, Bear scooped her up into his arms and kissed her, swinging her around. His laugh filled every corner.
“Does this mean you are going to be in love and be really married like regular folks?” Deborah rounded the judge’s bench and climbed into his chair, picking up the gavel and eyeing it.
Bear reached over and plucked it from her hand. “It sure does. You girls ready to do what we talked about?”
“Yep. We’re ready.”
“What are you up to?” Emmylou tried to smooth her hair and calm her heart. Bear kept her clamped to his side.
“Me and the girls have a plan we’d like to run by you.”
“At the moment, I’d do anything you asked.” She hugged his arm. “I’m so happy, I could burst.”
“Well, we thought it might be nice if we had a proper church wedding, now that …” He shrugged and scratched his whiskers. “Now that we’ve reached a sort of understanding. Now that we’re a family. You got cheated out of a church wedding and all the fripperies, and I want to make that right.”
Emmylou’s heart swelled, and happy tears pricked her eyes. Deborah hopped off the judge’s chair and grabbed Bear’s free hand and swung it, and Miriam laced her fingers under her chin, her eyes full of hope.
Deborah nodded. “Bear said we could wear our fancy dresses and that you would, too, and that you would look beautiful.”
Bear’s grin widened. “That’s right. I’ll be the envy of every man in town. You girls go get gussied up, and I’ll find the preacher. Just don’t keep me waiting too long. I might get nervous.” He winked and kissed her again.
Two hours later, Emmylou followed the girls up the aisle of a pretty white church. She couldn’t take her eyes off the handsome man at the altar.
He’d cut his hair and trimmed his beard, and he wore a suit and tie. But when she got close and looked into his eyes, so full of pride and love, she recognized her Bear. He took her hand in his and faced the preacher.
They said their vows, this time with conviction, because they wanted to, not because they were desperate. This time, love filled their voices as they became a family, their promises witnessed by the girls who had brought them together.
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, wife to a man who is her total opposite and soul mate, and avid museum patron. Erica loves to hear from readers. You can find Erica on the web at www.ericavetsch.com. And you can email her at [email protected].
HAVE CASH, WILL MARRY
Renee Yancy
Chapter 1
New York City
April 28, 1899
The Honorable Robert Alexander Radclyfe observed the promenade of young women as they sauntered up the stairs of the Metropolitan Opera House, gorgeously gowned in satin and silks like strutting peahens. Diamonds glittered from tiaras and feathered aigrettes in their hair, flashed from their waists, and adorned the deep décolleté of their bodices.
It reminded him of the summer cattle fairs in England, except the females were dressed in silk and glittering jewels instead of sporting iron nose rings.
“There, Rob—that’s the Goulet heiress.”
His best friend, James George Epperson, Baron DeVille, who had joined Rob for the scouting trip to America, casually tipped his head toward the shining creature swathed in clouds of pink tulle descending the staircase. “Her father made a fortune in silver mining in Colorado. She’s worth millions.”
Rob shook his head, amazed. “How the deuce do you know all this? Especially since you’re a confirmed bachelor?”
DeVille shrugged. “I read the American papers.” He grinned and poked Rob in the shoulder. “I’m looking out for you, old chap.”
Miss Goulet gave them a flirtatious smile as she passed, leaving a drift of jasmine scent in her wake.
“Her dowry,” James whispered, “is five hundred thousand.”
“Hmmm.” Rob considered this startling sum. Half a million dollars would buy a lot of stone, timber, plaster, and roof tiles to refurbish Donalee, his family’s crumbling ancestral seat in southeast England. Not to mention carpets, drapes, and mullioned glass panes for the hundreds of windows in the castle. Then he winced. What made him any different from the lynx-eyed American mothers at the ball who had diligently perused periodicals like The Titled American before they made their plans? It contained a register of available and eligible titled bachelors, with descriptions of their age, accomplishments, and prospects. Page ninety-two held his entry:
The Honorable Robert Alexander Radclyfe, eldest son and heir of the ninth Earl of Wentwater. Entailed estates amount to 15,000 acres, but due to large mortgages do not yield their nominal value of $200,000. Educated at Oxford.
Not exactly complimentary.
“You’re attracting attention, Rob,” murmured DeVille, gallantly stepping aside for a stunning blond in white cut-velvet and flashing sapphires, led by her mama, who swept toward the staircase, corseted to the extreme and resembling the prow of a battleship at full speed ahead.
“I think she likes you.” DeVille raised a discreet eyebrow toward the girl, who had slowed and cast an inviting glance over her bare shoulder at Rob.
Rob shrugged and forced a smile in the girl’s direction. His father had ordered him to New York for the sole purpose of finding an American heiress for a bride, with a dowry large enough to pay for the restoration so badly needed to bring the estate into the next century.
But he hadn’t met the right American heiress yet, and this was the last ball of the New York social season. As his father’s heir, he had a responsibility to marry well, but most of the English aristocrats occupied the same precarious position as his father, land rich and cash po
or. The only heiresses with considerable dowries lived in America. So he had dutifully traveled to New York with the understanding he wouldn’t return until he’d found the right girl. He’d already had several irate letters from his father, wondering why he wasn’t engaged yet.
Soon the cream of New York society would be off to Newport to summer at their “cottages” on the Atlantic Ocean, or go yachting to exotic foreign ports. If only he could leave as well. Summer was short in England, and Donalee was at its loveliest then.
Several American debutantes had shown interest in him. But though he had to do his father’s bidding, he had one firm criterion unknown to his father.
Rob was determined to find a woman he could marry for love first and money second. He’d been in love once in his life, five years ago, at the tender age of nineteen. And then scarlet fever had struck England, and Lady Alice Mary DeVere survived its initial onslaught only to perish days later from a weakened heart. He sighed. Even now the memory pained him.
“The supper rooms are upstairs,” said DeVille. “Is it too early to have a bite?”
The ball would begin in earnest afterward, on the main floor of the Met. The crush of people upstairs was worse, and Rob resisted the urge to disappear. The blond debutante with the sapphires headed directly toward him, and he ducked through a slim door behind a velvet portiere. Immediately the roar of the ballroom crowd diminished, and he sighed, enjoying the moment of peace.
The Convenient Bride Collection: 9 Romances Grow from Marriage Partnerships Formed Out of Necessity Page 52