His High-Stakes Bride

by Martha Hix

  “Don’t leave, Mama. Please don’t leave.”

  So upset that her fingers were shaking, Mama couldn’t snap her purse shut. It fell to the floor, her jewelry flying everywhere. She scrambled to gather it all up. Once she’d done so, she left. Her parting words?

  “Find yourself a husband, Patty. Your best bet is a professional man. Goodbye and farewell.”

  Thus, her mother left Tulsa with her new man. Lafayette Merkel might have been considered a professional—a professional crook. He’d present himself as an investor in petroleum properties, eager to find members of local tribes. Then he physically brutalized them out of their rightful claims to the oil treasures buried beneath their lands. Once he had their signatures or X’s, he sold those rights to oil operators. He had to keep moving to stay ahead of his own reputation.

  While Mildred did make a parting gift of ten dollars to her daughter, she didn’t bother to pay up the rent, although Patty managed to find a job paying five cents an hour babysitting a neighbor’s four little children. Unfortunately, the neighbor never paid.

  Then Lafayette’s son showed up, looking to collect estate money his father owed him.

  Chet had some cash to cover the rent and buy groceries, but the two were evicted when the landlord learned from neighboring church ladies that he was sleeping on Patty’s sofa. The authorities sided with the church workers, refusing to believe a young man would cohabit with a young girl and not share her bed.

  That was when things got ugly. Really ugly. Chet and Patty landed in jail. They would probably still be there, if not for Dorinda.

  While Chet Merkel never stirred a tizzy in Patty, and neither of them had an interest in the other, at least he’d been gracious, had become like a brother to her…until he’d shown his true colors, revealing that he’d cheat even his own sister-of-sorts.

  Inside that place called Scarlet Garter Jenny’s Saloon, Patty had prayed Chet would be the loser at cards. It had been almost too much to expect that he would lose to someone as handsome as Grant Kincaid. But now, with the winner in his bed and Patty in another, fate laughed in her face. Patty thought she had the situation in control, until…

  Mr. Kincaid’s intention to call in those church ladies frightened her. She cringed, remembering Tulsa.

  Papa used to say, “Patience girl, assess a situation. But don’t wait for someone to get ahead of you. Jump the gun on ’im!”

  “Why did you name me Patience?” she would ask.

  “’Twas your mum’s idea, not mine, Patty Cake. I wanted Haveno for your first name.”

  They would both giggle at his joke. “Oh, Papa—you’re so awful!”

  “I am.” He would always wink at that part, then tug on the hem of his vest. “Just remember. Never let the other guy get the jump on ya.”

  And so it was that Patty lit a lamp and got down to business. She stripped off her unmentionables, made use of the pitcher and bowl with its soapy water, then used the available toothbrush and baking soda to clean her teeth and freshen her breath.

  Tiptoeing, she made her way in the darkness to Grant Kincaid’s room.

  A chilled breeze whispered from his windows, fluttering the long, gossamer-thin curtains. As she neared his bed, she felt a rug replace the wood floor beneath her feet. She saw the bed in the moonlight from the open windows. It had a headboard that reached the ceiling. There was no footboard. Evidently it had been left off to accommodate the owner’s tall frame. She wondered what it would be like, to have enough money to matter to a furniture maker.

  Then again, maybe Grant Kincaid just sawed the footboard off himself.

  She slid between the sheets, wiggling close to his big, long body. Warm and solid, he smelled exceedingly pleasant. Mmm. And what luck! Just like Patty, he lay there without a stitch of clothing.

  Now what?

  What did a woman do when she arrived at a sleeping man’s bed, her purpose to seduce him?

  The walls had been thin when Mildred had taken up with Lafayette Merkel. But bedroom talk was just talk. It wasn’t instruction. Of course, she’d heard a lot of noise...

  Patty had to move on instinct. She liked the idea of putting her leg on Grant’s, so she did. Oh, yes. This was good! Mmm! It felt good in her bosom and all the way down into her private place. In fact, her private place got heavy, hot even, and it seemed to have a mind of its own. Imagine that! So she let it have its way. Via her hip, it felt its way around his upper thigh.

  Mmm…!

  It was as if her breasts were awakening, were becoming taut. Her leg became even more of an extension of her private place—it needed to move. It slid over his, her knee bending to clasp his. And her arm, led by her hand… It was moving as if it knew what to do. It explored.

  “Umm,” he said in his sleep. His hand was moving, as was his head. He was still asleep, but she could tell he liked this. The way he touched her … Her breath was deeper, her blood warmer. She liked it. Liked it so much that she felt hot, then hotter, and heavy, even liquid. Not like she was making water, but like she was all melty.

  “Apple,” she heard him murmur, and, “Kiss…”

  She itched to crawl atop him. So she did. And she opened wider. Was she supposed to? She thought so. She kissed his neck, even bit it when he was pushing his big, hard man thing against her bottom, right at the crack where she did her most private things—oh my goodness!

  Her breasts were throbbing, just like that part where his man thing was….

  * * * *

  Was he dreaming? Grant’s eyelids were too heavy even to open. He smiled, loving the feeling of this out-of-body, out-of-world seduction. He’d had some wet dreams, but this…? This was too, too real.

  He felt a heaviness and a woman’s voice. “You send me into a tizzy. I want you to touch me. I want you to ravish me. Oh, Mr. Grant Kincaid, I’ve been waiting for you all my life. Darling man, you are my savior, and I am never going to leave you. Never, ever.”

  He woke up then, for certain.

  He didn’t know if it was the woman. Or if it was the sound of the bedroom door opening and Jewel Craig dropping a tray of baked goods. Jewel stood slack-jawed, her eyes wide, in the doorway.

  He didn’t know who screamed first, but there were three loud noises of surprise, and into the mix Jewel was screaming, “Good God, Grant. What are you doing to that girl?”

  Or maybe he alone screamed. Grant did in fact have a woman’s legs straddling him. Real legs, and they had nothing to do with a child’s. He had his arms filled with five-hundred dollars’ worth of the most beautiful titian-haired babe in the State of Texas.

  And Patience was lusciously naked. She yanked at the covers.

  Jewel, recovering, spoke. “I, uh, I think I’d better come back later.” The baker did an about-face and took off, stepping over the spilled bread and biscuits.

  “Jewel!” Grant was untangling himself quickly, grabbing for his robe. “Wait in the kitchen.”

  He turned to Patience. “I thought you couldn’t talk.”

  “But—”

  “Save it. Get your clothes on. You get to the kitchen, too. And snap to it!”

  Whatever had happened here, it was not good.

  * * * *

  It went without saying that this morning did not go as Patience Sweet had expected. I could just cry. Really, I could. Why had that funny-looking, buck-toothed church biddy shown up and spoiled everything? Church lady? Wasn’t she the one who played cards last night? What kind of church allowed that?

  Yes, and how many men get their biscuits served in bed?

  Probably best not to think unkindly about the lady’s looks, but… So don’t start there, Patty. She’s probably such a very nice person that people don’t even think about her looks. Remember how she bought you a glass of milk?

  A few minutes after the tizzy-spoiling, Patty had herself together.
She folded away the childish garb and wore the clothes that held less appeal to men looking for a very young girl. Where did she stand with Grant Kincaid?

  What in the world will I do if he won’t have me?

  Her knapsack collected, she went to the kitchen, where that church lady and a glowering Grant Kincaid were seated at the kitchen table, drinking black coffee. At least he had the decency to get up and pull out a chair for Patty.

  They didn’t even bother to offer her coffee. The church lady stood to pour her a glass of milk from the icebox.

  Patty took the glass. “I don’t care for milk, actually, but thank you, anyway.”

  “I’m Jewel Craig,” said the lady, who was quite slim, had black hair, and a lot of prominent teeth. “I’m a businesswoman here in town. I’m a baker and part-owner in an oven-building concern. This fellow here and I, well, we’re the same thing as kin.”

  “That’s nice.” Was it rude to wonder how many customers, even kinfolks, got their deliveries in the bedroom? Patty wouldn’t ask, but she did say, “I recognize you from last night, ma’am. You were at the poker table. You sent over a glass of milk on your return from the ladies’ convenience. I thank you for that kindness, but I’m not a baby. I’m seventeen”—Why the dickens did I lie about that!—“and I don’t need babying with milk.”

  Immediately, Patty bit her own tongue, wishing she hadn’t exaggerated about her age. It was a bid for sympathy, she supposed. Considering her miserable situation, she needed all the help she could get.

  “Seventeen.” Grant slapped his hand over his face. “Wonderful.”

  “That’s two years over the age of consent.” Mrs. Craig looked straight at the man who didn’t seem so gallant and gentlemanly this morning.

  He neither said nor did anything.

  The skinny brunette prodded him verbally. “What’s the matter with you? You pick up girls all the time, and don’t say you don’t.”

  “Women not girls, and I don’t bring them home. This is a respectable neighborhood.”

  Evidently his friend wasn’t going to give him any quarter. Patty liked that in her, especially when she added, “You brought this one here.”

  “Jewel, please.”

  “Men! You may claim you want to be Governor of Texas, but it’s a wonder you haven’t ended up with syphilis or gonorrhea. And no telling how many wood’s colts are out there, crawling around, crying for breakfast, looking for Daddy.”

  “That is unfair. I would never turn my back on a child.” Most of the color had drained from Grant Kincaid’s face. “Anyway, I won Miss Sweet at the end of the evening. I did it to save her.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Don’t look at me that way, Jewel Craig. It’s not what it seems. I intended to ask you and Linnea to help her. You remember Mr. Merkel?”

  “Of course I do. I ran across him just this morning, when I delivered bread to that pretty songbird who has all the gents whistlin’ her tune. Can’t recall her name at the moment. She’s out on the Ropesville road.”

  “Mary Williams,” Grant supplied.

  “That’s her! Anyhow, Mr. Merkel was headed in that direction, in a painted wagon. I stopped him, gave him a loaf of bread for the road. I asked where his sister was. He said she’d found a path, but she knows where to find the road to crystals. Odd thing to say.”

  As soon as she’d heard “Ropesville road,” Patty knew Chet wouldn’t give her trouble. He was headed for his mother. For a moment, she yearned to be on the road with him. What had seemed ideal was tawdry and dirty to her now; her opinion of Grant Kincaid tarnished.

  “I could use a cup of coffee. I’ll get it myself.” Patty took a cup from where she’d seen Grant removing them last night; she poured from the coffeepot on the stove. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Craig. Your friend here said he was going to turn me over to some women from a church, as if he had the right. You’re probably one of them. Just so you know—I won’t be turned over. I’ve tidied the bedroom and pulled my stuff together. I’m leaving.”

  “All this hullabaloo, and I never caught your name.”

  “Patience Eileen Sweet.”

  “With your brother already left town, do you know where to meet him?” the lady wanted to know.

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. He and I will definitely be getting back together.” She sipped from her cup, then placed it on the drain-board, answering, “Right where devil children always get together. In hell.”

  “Oh, honey, it can’t be all that bad.”

  It’s always that bad. Patty gathered as much of her dignity as she could and forced a smile at the lady who now had the saddest expression on her face. She tried not to look at the rumpled, glowering, black-haired man who not only needed a shave, but was also in dire need of a pick-me-up. She assumed he’d get it as soon as she closed the door on herself.

  “That cocoa sure was tasty,” she murmured, passing him.

  “Dang it, Grant—where’s your heart!”

  “Oh, Miz Craig, don’t be cross with him,” Patty tossed over her shoulder. “Chet set out to have an honest game. But he had a plan, should he start losing, which happened. He set out to cheat Mr. Kincaid, you see. If Chet lost, then I’d be the prize. But not really. I always slipped away and we skipped town. But I didn’t want to, not this time.” She decided to skip the part about the double-cross. “I was in a tizzy for this fellow here. So I lied to Mr. Kincaid. I should’ve known better. My daddy taught me better than that. I should’ve figured things wouldn’t turn out right. It’s the luck o’ my Irish.”

  Just as Patty turned the doorknob, Grant moved quickly to clamp his fingers around her hand. It was so warm that it scared her. Her heart skipped at least three beats as he said, “Not so fast.”

  “That’s the ticket,” came from Mrs. Craig.

  From what she’d just said, and from her general niceness to this point, Patty got the feeling the black-haired lady was more an ally than a foe. At least she hoped so. But did it matter?

  The man was saying, “You can’t just go out there into the light of day. I can’t have an unaccompanied adolescent girl sashaying out my house at breakfast time.”

  “You haven’t broken any laws,” his friend put in.

  “I have my reputation to think about,” he added. “My ambitions—”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Grant. Don’t be such a snoot. There are other things in life besides getting elected to the State House.”

  He cut his eyes to his friend. “That’s enough, Jewel. I can’t ask a jury to respect my word, when—”

  “All right, all right, I get your drift.”

  “Me, too.” Frankly, Patty had begun to lose patience with this situation. Having come out the loser in all regards, she didn’t wish to hear her one-time savior whine about getting some tarnish on his crown.

  Reaching for the doorknob again, she said, “I’m leaving. If anyone sees me, I’ll just tell them I was delivering hotcakes for Mrs. Craig.”

  “Sit down,” he said crossly to Patty. “Now!”

  “That’s better.” When Mrs. Craig smiled, she showed even more teeth.

  From a chair, Patty frowned.

  “Jewel, take her with you. Take her to your place, please. Talk with Linnea. You two will know what’s best to do while we find her father. Then—”

  Patty interrupted. “There may be no finding my father. I haven’t heard from him, not since he left in 1908. Good sense says something’s happened to my papa. I was on my way to El Paso to see if there’s been any word of him. Now I have no way to get there. I’m stranded here.”

  Mrs. Craig asked, “You left home, knowing he’s liable not to be in El Paso? That added to this? I have to wonder… Where is your head, young lady?”

  “I don’t have a home, ma’am.”

  Grant spoke up. “I’ll drive her to your place t
onight, after the sun goes down. Or Linnea’s. That might be better. She has more room than you do.”

  “My niece and I are not in the business of saving young women from themselves.” It didn’t take a genius to tell that Jewel Craig was losing patience with Mr. Kincaid. “Not that I don’t feel sorry for you,” she added to Patty. “This is your mess, Grant. You figure it out.”

  “Can you at least go get Wes? Ask him to drop by here. On the double.”

  “Nope. He’s got two meetings this morning. Railroad. And the new building for Two Ladies Ovens. Then he and Lisa-Ann are taking their baby to visit with her mother.”

  Grant nodded. “Yes, of course. How could I have forgotten?”

  Jewel walked over to Patty to squeeze her hand with assurance. “You stay here until tonight. You’ll be okay, I promise. My husband and I have a new home with a spare bedroom. You may stay there until we sort out your plans.” She smiled again. “Don’t you fret, not for a moment. This is a decent man, despite what I’ve said. Whatever happened in that bedroom won’t happen again.”

  For the craziest moment, Patty let go of everything that had transpired since this bossy lady spoiled things. The moment she said it, she surprised herself, but say it, she did: “What if I want it to happen again, ma’am?”

  Mrs. Craig gasped, her fingers covering her lips.

  The man in question slapped his palm over his eyes, but not before Patty Sweet caught a lopsided grin spreading over Grant Kincaid’s face. Something told her it would happen again… And “it” would go a lot further. The prospect both scared and excited her.

  Chapter 3

  For the past two hours, Grant had tried to concentrate on the casework pulled from his satchel and spread out on the dining table. Tomorrow, His Honor Fleming Hawkins would convene the Ninety-Ninth District Court, with two cases on the docket for Attorney Kincaid to put forth. How could he concentrate? He well knew a kitten roamed his kitchen, doing no telling what.