Ride for a Bride in Wyoming (Rocky Mountain Romances Book 4)

by Charlene Raddon

  He was reaching for the pitcher on the small, glass-topped table to pour himself another glass when a streak of pale blue caught his eye. His heart knew the dress and woman wearing it well before he’d consciously recognized Hazel. Having a house on Main Street tended to have nearly as many negative points as it did positive ones, and seeing Hazel about town as often as he did? Well, that fell into both categories.

  When she drew closer, she looked his way and waved with a slight smile. He waved back and tried to return the smile. He hoped it didn’t look too pained from her vantage point across the street. She continued walking breezily and greeting townspeople almost as casually as she’d greeted him. No, that was unfair. Hazel was naturally kind to everyone. That was simply her way.

  After their brief courtship had fizzled like a burnt-out candle, they remained close, like brother and sister. Or so Hazel declared time and again. But Nathan would never see Hazel Adams as a sister. Not after their kiss, which happened right before she seemed to panic at the idea of the two of them courting, at the chance of losing his friendship. So she’d broken it off, and inevitably, part of their friendship had died as a result.

  Before she ran from him two years ago, he relished the fact that she never seemed to smile at anyone quite the way she smiled at him. He’d since become the recipient of the same smile she gave everyone else. Their relationship lacked the old feeling where he neither had to worry about what silly thing he might say or do, nor grow anxious that she would misinterpret his meaning, even if he made an utter mess with the wrong words.

  There had been a time when Hazel always gave him the benefit of the doubt, perhaps gently ribbing him when he said something potentially offensive. He’d never taken offense. Rather, the opposite. He always felt grateful that she had a gentle, kind way of pointing out the errors in his ways with a gentle tease. He was a better a man for it. A better man for Hazel’s influence. A better man for being her friend.

  Now, that’s all he was—a friend. And an awkward, distant friendship it was.

  But Hazel Adams would forevermore be the woman he’d wished had accepted his hand.

  To his left, the screen door creaked open. That could mean one thing: his younger brother, Peter, stood there, likely leaning against the door jamb. Nathan braced himself, returning his attention to the pitcher. “Want some lemonade?” he asked without looking over.

  “Only if you’re sure your pining heart can spare a glass.” Peter chuckled and stepped onto the porch. The screen door clanged twice as it bounced and settled into position. Peter crossed in front of Nathan to the two-person swing, which hung from chains on the side of the porch. He sat in the middle and pushed off with both feet, setting the swing gliding back and forth. Then he crossed his arms and eyed Nathan with an amused, crooked grin.

  Pitcher midair, Nathan asked, “What? You look like a fox who’s had his fill in the hen house.”

  “And you,” Peter said, “look like a puppy who has lost a beloved bone.”

  When Nathan’s only reply consisted of a glance of annoyance, Peter held out his arms innocently. “Oh, did you want the swing? I didn’t realize you were planning to use it for sparking. Please accept my apologies. I never meant to interfere with puppy love between my brother and a lady.”

  So he’d seen Hazel’s passing, as well as Nathan’s reaction to it. Puppy love, he thought with irritation. Peter wouldn’t know genuine love if it bit him in the rear.

  “You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.” Nathan held out the filled glass. He had no need to say what or to whom he referred; they both knew.

  Peter was quickly growing tiresome as a source of teasing over the matter. Nathan had absolutely no desire to admit how much the joking hit a bit too close to the mark. He doubted anyone knew how much he still loved Hazel. But even if Peter knew only of the recent pain over Meredith, one would assume a brother would think twice about making jokes about matters such as romance.

  On the other hand, Peter had never been particularly sympathetic. He reveled in rubbing salt in wounds. If Peter had ever fancied a girl, he never let on about it. Perhaps therein lay Nathan’s mistake; he’d allowed a meddling brother to become privy to a tender emotion. The man probably had no idea what it felt like to be spurned by the woman who’d claimed your heart completely, or what it felt like to lick your wounds and try to care for another woman, only to be betrayed by her.

  When Peter didn’t move to take the drink, Nathan extended his arm farther. “Take the blasted glass, or I’ll dump it on your trousers.”

  “All right, all right.” Peter raised one hand in surrender. “No need to get your feathers in a fuss.”

  Nathan had every intention of purposely spilling a bit of lemonade onto the porch just to needle his brother, but before he had a chance, he spotted a strange man on a horse down the street. Not just a strange man on a strange horse, either, but one who’d stopped and was talking to Hazel from his saddle. Right there on the corner by Bonner’s Mercantile.

  Had that been all, Nathan would have noted the moment but assumed the stranger was a visitor in need of directions. But that wasn’t all. Even from two blocks away, Nathan could tell by the how Hazel carried herself that the stranger was flirting with her. Worse, she seemed to be enjoying it. Her laughter rang out, easily reaching Nathan on the porch. He gritted his teeth. She giggled and tossed her long braid over her shoulder. The sight of the auburn rope trailing down her back, her head cocked, followed by the sound of yet another giggle, all combined to send a surge of emotion through him. He didn’t trust the stranger over there any farther than he could throw him. He stood suddenly, and Peter jumped to his feet.

  “What the—”

  Nathan had spilled the lemonade all over his brother’s trousers—without meaning to. He had time for only the slightest grin of triumph before thrusting the mostly empty glass into Peter’s hand and hurrying down the steps.

  “What are you going to do,” Peter called, “challenge the man to a duel for asking directions from your girl?”

  As Nathan reached the street, he paused briefly to look back at the porch. “She’s not my girl.”

  Peter rolled his eyes at the assertion. “Sure she isn’t.” he wiped ice and excess lemonade from his trousers.

  “I’m going over there to make sure that man has no ill intentions toward Hazel or anyone else in town.”

  “Just don’t go challenging him to a duel. He’d kill you.” The twinkle in Peter’s eye belied the serious tone.

  Nathan shook his head and crossed the road, jogging toward the corner of Main and First East, where the two conversed. The closer Nathan drew, the less he liked what he saw. Hazel looked positively flushed, her cheeks twin apples of pink. With less than a block to go, he slowed to a walk.

  “Hello there!” he called to the stranger, smiling with his teeth and raising an arm in a wave. “You new in town?”

  Hazel turned at the sound of his voice, eyes wide—surprised, surely, but also pleading. For him to go away, or for him to intervene? He didn’t know for certain, but he knew men, and he knew that lascivious look in the stranger’s eye. Nathan sidled up to Hazel, grinning broadly at the man who was still astride his horse. Hazel made a move to step away, but Nathan quickly slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

  “I see you’ve met my fiancée,” he told the man. “She’s a firecracker, I tell ya.”

  The rider’s face turned inscrutable. His gaze slid from Nathan to Hazel and back again. “Your fiancée, you say?”

  “No,” Hazel said, at the same moment Nathan spoke on top of her.

  “That’s right.” He reached up, hand extended. Hazel sighed and scratched a spot behind her ear, an old habit he recognized as a hint of annoyance.

  He ignored it. “I’m Nathan Siddoway. And you are...?”

  The man’s eyes narrowed slightly. He looked at Nathan’s hand and finally reached out to shake it. “Coltrane,” he said slowly. “Wyatt Coltrane.”

&
nbsp; “Good to meet you, Mr. Coltrane.”

  While Hazel didn’t move away from his arm, she folded both of her own and shot him a look filled with irritation. Nathan just grinned at her and addressed Mr. Coltrane again.

  “If you’re looking for a tasty dinner, head back about half a mile in the direction you came. Betty’s has the best steak around. And if you head a mile or two that way”—he pointed northward—you’ll find a hotel that’s—”

  “Thank you kindly,” Coltrane interrupted. “Miss Adams here already told me as much.” He winked at Hazel, and Nathan’s hand instinctively tightened on her arm. She wriggled under his grip, but he wasn’t about to let go. She pressed her lips into a line as if at the end of her patience.

  “But perhaps you know of a place I could buy,” Coltrane said. “I’m looking to settle here in Midway.”

  Heavy dread pulled at Nathan’s middle. “Settle here,” he repeated. “In Midway. You—uh, looking for land, then?”

  “Possibly.” Coltrane adjusted his hat and looked about the street as if surveying the town. “More likely, I’ll set up a business. I specialize in a few things here and there that the town might find useful.”

  Such as? Even with the brass bell clapper knocking back and forth in his head, yelling that Coltrane was bad news, Nathan could not get himself to ask what the interloper intended to do in the way of business here. All Nathan could think about what how to get rid of the stranger. Something about his bearing, the way he lifted his chin when he looked down from his horse to speak to them on the lowly ground, made Coltrane seem extraordinarily arrogant.

  Judge not that ye be not judged.

  So Hazel always said, reminding Nathan that the advice came from the Good Book, not from her. But Nathan insisted that sometimes judging could be the right thing to do, and not judging—or at least, not putting an ear to the ground for danger, as it were—brought evil and other bad things. If Nathan had to guess, he’d have said that Coltrane’s arrival and intentions of doing business—and who knew what else—boded ill.

  Don’t say that aloud. No doubt, breathing a word would be asking for trouble. The last thing Nathan wanted was to provoke the man into a fight. Or worse, upset Hazel—disappoint her. A single look from Hazel could do a number on Nathan’s conscience more powerful than Ma’s cocked head and narrowed eyes ever could. He’d walk to the ends of the earth and back to avoid seeing her pinched forehead, her slightly rounded shoulders, her sigh. Those things said volumes more than she’d ever put into words about his behavior, whatever it had been.

  “If your business is of the mercantile sort,” Nathan tried, “the town’s already got that covered, as you can see.” He gestured at Bonner’s behind him. “Half the town has dairy cows, so milk and cheese and the like probably won’t be profitable—”

  “I’ll find something,” Coltrane said, cutting Nathan off yet again.

  For a moment, Nathan stared at Coltrane evenly. “I have no doubt you will,” he said, bristling. He had no doubt that Coltrane would do his best to set up a sham business of some kind. Hopefully Hazel interpreted his comments about the mercantile and dairy farmers as an effort to be helpful, though his motives weren’t aimed at keeping Coltrane in town. Rather to the contrary.

  Nathan couldn’t see her full response without turning to look right at her, but from the corner of his eye, he thought he saw her rolling her eyes. She did raise her nose a little higher and take a step toward the horse, away from his arm. Nathan took a matching step and draped his arm around her again. He had to make sure she stayed safe near a strange horse and a strange man. Hazel shot him a look of exasperation then addressed the horseman.

  “It was mighty nice meeting you, Mr. Coltrane,” she said.

  “Likewise, Miss Adams.” He nodded, touching the brim of his hat, and winked at her.

  That’s twice, and right in front of me. The brazen rat.

  Nathan felt his free hand tightening into a fist, and his nostrils flared. Before he could say something he’d certainly regret, Hazel put a hand on his arm.

  “Nathan?” Her touch, her voice, brought him back from the fire of anger and returned him to some semblance of reason. He forced himself to breathe in deeply through his nose. Ma always said that helped calm one down.

  He reluctantly addressed Coltrane. “If I hear of anyone selling their business or renting out a storefront, I’ll know who to tell.”

  “Much obliged.” Coltrane tipped his hat in Hazel’s direction, making her blush anew.

  One. Two. Three. Nathan counted more breaths, jaw clenched. He had no intention of telling Coltrane anything, no matter how many business opportunities appeared in town. Nathan’s words were technically true. He’d know who to tell, but wouldn’t actually tell Coltrane one doggone thing.

  Coltrane nudged the horse’s sides and continued westward down Main Street. The lazy pace didn’t fool Nathan for a moment. Wyatt Coltrane put it on for show as if he were some easygoing, relaxed, harmless fellow who might buy you a pint of beer at the pub.

  Nathan’s gut told him otherwise. Though the need for a ruse was gone, he held Hazel even tighter. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.

  Watch for Charlene’s Upcoming Release — DIVINE GAMBLE

  As a girl, Maisy Macoubrie witnessed the murder of her beloved father. She's been running from the killer for fourteen years. If only she could provide a safe home for her and her son… but she'll never get rich dealing faro in saloons, with a cold-blooded killer on her trail.

  The Preacher never meant to become a gunman. Sometimes life deals a man a hard hand. Always alone, always hunted, he dreams of all he’s been denied—peace, family, love.

  The moment Maisy and The Preacher meet, their lives change once more. United in battle against a powerful enemy, they fight side by side, but can they beat the odds against them? Is love worth the biggest gamble man has ever known?

  Other Books by Charlene Raddon

  Taming Jenna

  The Wrong Man

  Deserted by her father at the tender age of seven, Jenna Leigh-Whittington had taught herself to ride, shoot, brawl…and steer clear of the opposite sex. But now, in a lonely Utah canyon, the Pinkerton agent has drawn her gun on a rugged stranger—only to discover that, far from the dangerous outlaw she’d been tracking, he is Branch McCauley, hired gun…and the most irresistible rascal ever to tempt and torment a woman!

  The Right Woman

  If there’s one thing McCauley trusts less than a female, it’s a female who packs a six-gun. But what a woman! Vowing to bring the sensuous hellcat to heel, McCauley has no inkling that their passionate battle of wills has just begun. Taming Jenna will be the most seductive—and satisfying—job he’s ever taken on.

  Tender Touch

  Three nightmarish years of marriage had shattered Brianna Wight’s sheltered world. Faking her own murder, she fled St. Louis…harboring terrible secrets that could mean her death.

  The tragic loss of his Indian wife left Columbus Nigh a wanderer; necessity made him a wilderness guide. But now he found himself drawn to the enigmatic woman who’d hired him to lead her westward. Her gentle strength stirred his lonely heart…her tender beauty aroused his deepest passions.

  But the perils of the Oregon Trail paled beside the murderous wrath of the man who tracked them across the harsh frontier. Brianna knew the only way to save herself and Columbus was to risk their tender love. Only then could she free herself from the horrors of the past—and embrace a rapturous future.

  Forever Mine

  A mail-order bride from Cincinnati, Ariah Scott had traveled all the way to Oregon to marry one man…only to lose her heart to another in this steamy romance. What would become of her now? Ever since her father died at the hands of a vengeful relative, Ariah’s life had been shadowed by dark secrets. And now her forbidden desire for Bartholomew Noon filled her with uncertainty—and a secret longing that could never be fulfilled.

  From the moment that Bartholomew Noon
saw Ariah standing alone in the Portland Station, the keeper of the Cape Meares Light was lost. Hopelessly in love with this angelic beauty who was fated to live beside him at the isolated lighthouse as another man’s wife, Bartholomew never dreamed that destiny would someday bring them together. Would Ariah truly be the woman he could cherish…forever?

  To Have and To Hold

  A widow with two children, Tempest Whitney had to mortgage everything to repay the money her husband had stolen. But even as she struggles to hold onto her Utah homestead, a scheming rancher buys up her debts, demanding she either get off his land or marry him. Then a dark-haired stranger shows up, claiming to be her dead husband…

  Buck Maddux spent two years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. Now a death bed promise has brought him to Tempest’s dugout. A man without roots, he doesn’t plan to stay—or to feel so fiercely protective of this feisty beauty he saves from a forced marriage. Suddenly, Buck yearns for a home, a family, a lasting love. But what can he offer Tempest? The surprising answer lies in the forbidden canyons of an ancient Anasazi tribe, where fortune and danger await—along with a passion more precious than gold…

  The Scent of Roses

  Rosalyn Delaney’s husband, Josiah, had vanished six years ago. Following a private detective’s lead, Rosalyn leaves Salt Lake City and boards a train heading t the mining

  town of Whiskey Ridge, Arizona. She arrives at Rose House, an old mansion reputed to be haunted, only to discover her missing husband has been killed, and his business partner, Whip Kincade, is wanted for his murder. Determined to uncover the secrets surrounding Josiah and his death, Rosalyn decides to stay—even when she begins to receive nightly visits from a charming “ghost”…

  Escaping a troubled past, Whip Kincade had hoped he could make a fresh start by coming to Whiskey Ridge and opening a saloon with his friend, Josiah. Now as a murder suspect hiding in his own house, Whip’s future looks bleak indeed…unless he can find the real culprit. But the unexpected intrusion of Rosalyn ruins his plans of sneaking out at night to investigate. Scaring her away is the first step in clearing his name, but Rosalyn doesn’t rattle easily. And Whip isn’t sure he wants the lovely widow to walk out of his life—especially when she would take his heart with her…