The Lassoed by Marriage Romance Collection

by Bell, Angela; Breidenbach, Angela; Carter, Lisa

  The man stood slowly as if he had all day and then some. Penny supposed that he was in no hurry to die. Or maybe he was in no hurry to get married. He made his way to the bars never taking his eyes off her as he approached.

  Even though invincible iron stood between the two of them, Penny took a quick step back.

  He wrapped his hands around the bars and dragged his gaze from her, settling it on the sheriff. “And if I marry her I get out of here?”

  “I reckon so,” the sheriff said.

  The man shook his head. “There’s no reckon to it. I either get out or I don’t.” His voice was hard as flint.

  “Yeah,” the sheriff said. “You marry her, and you get out of here. But let me tell you something. You make a run for it, and I will hunt you down and hang you on the spot.” For all his bumbling and laziness, Penny knew he meant what he said. A chill ran down her spine at the words.

  The two men stood, their gazes locked in some sort of primitive showdown.

  Finally the dark-haired man gave a quick nod of consent.

  She was getting married! The thought should have filled her with joy beyond joy. Now she would have someone to help her farm the land, bring in a good crop, and keep her land in the family. When her father and her brother got back, they would be so very proud of everything that she had done.

  But she couldn’t rejoice just yet. There was something entirely too sinister about the man. Whether it was his brooding gaze or his dark hair she wasn’t sure. Or maybe it was the slant of his mouth that said he had seen too much and he just didn’t care anymore. Whatever it was, she didn’t know. But this felt less like salvation and more like a deal with the devil.

  George Washington Brannock had never given much thought to wedding days. Never even thought he would have one. But had he been asked, he would’ve never thought he’d be standing next to a woman while his hair felt so dirty he was certain it had bugs in it and his clothes hadn’t been washed in weeks. No sir, this was not at all how he imagined his life going.

  “You may kiss your bride,” the minister finished, smiling jovially and looking from one to the other.

  Though Wash had never thought much about weddings, he would have certainly been able to come up with a better place than the front office of the jail to hold such a service. But, alas, that was the predicament he found himself in.

  Wash turned toward the woman at his side. She was tall. Nearly as tall as he was. She had a strong face, not quite attractive but striking all the same. It was the kind of face that a person didn’t readily forget.

  Every bride deserved a kiss on her wedding day, but he was in no condition to be kissing anyone, however much it was only a marriage of convenience. He was beyond filthy and was certain he had more crawlies than he did hairs on his head.

  He stuck out his hand to shake then looked down at his grime-crusted fingernails and cracked skin.

  He mumbled something that he hoped passed for an apology and retracted his hand.

  The sheriff leered at them. “Well, now, ain’t that special?”

  Wash wasn’t sure what was so special about it. Except that now he was out of jail and he could find the man who framed him and put him in jail in the first place. The sheriff’s warning from earlier came back to mind. He would have to hang out there for a while longer and keep up pretenses. The gentleman in him knew that he owed the woman at his side a little something for releasing him. The least he could do was stay through the harvest as she wanted him to, then head out. He’d been waiting almost a year for his revenge. What was a couple more months?

  Penny pulled the wagon onto the dirt road that led to her farm, all too aware of the stranger she had just married. Almost home. What then?

  She tried not to notice the sad and sorry state of the house. She had done the best she could, but keeping up with everything was more than she could handle. She was only one person. She had done okay for a while, but then everything had gotten the better of her. Now so much needed to be done that she wasn’t even sure where to start.

  She pulled the wagon to a stop and got out, not bothering to wait for him as he scrambled down the other side.

  Red, the brown-and-black hound dog she kept for both security and companionship, strolled out of the barn to see who had come out to the house. Catching sight of her, he wagged his tail and nudged his head against her affectionately. She scratched behind one floppy ear then turned back to Wash, unsure of what to call him.

  During the ceremonies she had learned that his given name was George Washington Brannock but that he preferred to be called Wash. Crazy name if she’d ever heard one, but who was she to say? Wash just seemed like such a tame label to put on a man who appeared as dangerous as the devil and twice as handsome.

  Yes, she had watched him a bit as they were riding home. She’d glanced at him from under the cover of her lashes. Under all the grime and dirt were strong cheekbones and an even stronger jaw. His eyes were piercing, his hair midnight-black, and he carried himself with a regal bearing worthy of the prince of England. In short, he was dangerous. Dangerous to a homely girl like her. She could only hope that he would do his job, abide by her rules, and help her get the farm ready for her brother and father to return.

  “I suppose you want to wash up,” she said. How did one address the husband after the wedding? She had no idea. Aside from the fact that her mother died when she was just eight years old, and her father never remarried, she had no experience with men whatsoever. She didn’t know what men did after a wedding. She didn’t know what men did at all. “I can get you some warm water.”

  He gave a small nod, his expression masked. Even those dark eyes hid whatever was going on inside his head. He looked neither displeased nor pleased, neither happy nor unhappy, neither scared nor courageous. “That would be good. It’s been a long time since I had a bath.”

  Heat rose into Penny’s cheeks. Her face felt hot enough to fry eggs, but she continued on as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. She gave him a quick nod. “If you give me a few minutes, I can heat some water and have you a right nice bath in no time at all.”

  She didn’t have to ask him twice. “Thank you.” A grin worked its way across his expression. Slightly crooked, a little mischievous, and a whole lot of handsome. When he smiled like that, Penny’s knees got week, and she wanted to collapse into a heap at his feet rather than press on with her promise. Her heart gave a flip in her chest as she walked past him toward the door of her snug log house.

  If he could make her react to him like that when he had done nothing but casually smile… She shook her head. What had she gotten herself into? A deal with the devil if she had ever had one.

  Chapter 2

  Penny stirred the beans and checked the corn bread baking in the oven. Everything was almost ready to put on the table. She didn’t know what kind of food Wash had been accustomed to before his incarceration, but she was fairly certain anything she put in front of him would be much better than what he’d been eating at the hands of Sheriff Riley.

  She had laid some clothes out for Wash to wear. He was about the same size as her brother. Maybe a bit taller, maybe a little leaner, but she was fairly certain that Harvey’s clothes would suffice in a pinch. And after looking at the sorry state of Wash’s only set of clothes, the situation could definitely be called “a pinch.”

  “I hope this is okay.” Wash came out from behind the screen that Penny used to separate the hallway that led to the bedrooms from the kitchen and living room where she now stood.

  He wore one of her brother’s shirts with a tie at the neck. The sleeves were too short and the tan pants had a good two inches from the hem to the top of Wash’s ratty black shoes. He’d used a length of rope to tie around the waist and cinch the pants up tighter, and she vowed to make him something better to wear. Surely she could let out a pair of Harvey’s old pants in the length and take them up in the waist. Maybe she could find a halfway decent flour sack and make him a new shirt. Times
were hard, yes, but that didn’t mean he had to go around in someone else’s clothing all the time. He was her husband, after all.

  Husband! The word slammed into her like a runaway bull.

  Dear Lord, please let me know I did the right thing. I brought a stranger into my home, but I didn’t see any other way. Please keep us both safe, and get us through this trying time, she prayed. In Jesus’ name, amen.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, not able to address the state of his clothing at all. Somehow that seemed too intimate for two people who’d just met, even if they were married.

  Wash smiled, and if she thought his earlier grin was irresistible, this one was doubly so. She started to close her eyes and pray again but instead, just ran the words over in her head. Dear Lord, please let this be the right decision.

  She set the table quickly then came around to one side of the bench and sat down. Wash sat down opposite her, his eyes feasting on the food before them. He reached for a piece of corn bread and had it halfway to his mouth before she admonished, “We need to pray first.”

  He looked sheepish as if he’d forgotten that was one of the rules of the outside. Who knew what he had experienced in jail? Or how regular his meals had come. Penny hadn’t thought to ask him if he’d been in the war or if he’d served in either army. Times like that made a man pray when he could and not so much when the world thought he should.

  He set the piece of corn bread down and clasped his hands in front of him, bowing his head without another word.

  Penny blessed their meal somehow realizing that it’d been a long time since Washington Brannock had talked to the Lord.

  The silence surrounding them as they ate fairly hummed with tension. The situation was strange, not the same situation a person found herself in every day. Married to a stranger, one day in jail and the next trying to save the family farm. Neither one of them had anything to talk about, yet both felt the need for conversation.

  Penny knew that she wasn’t much to look at, but she could sew, she could cook, and she could clean. So what if she wasn’t the prettiest girl in Crawford County? She could hold her own with anybody when it came to cooking.

  Wash wiped his mouth and patted his stomach. “I know this may not mean much, seein’s how I’ve been in jail for a few months. But that was the best meal I’ve had in a long while, Miss Pinehurst.” She didn’t bother to correct him. She wasn’t Miss Pinehurst anymore. She was actually Mrs. Brannock. Though neither one of them was fooling themselves about the state of their marriage.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Mr. Brannock.” Who knew she would be calling her own husband “mister”?

  He pushed back from the table and remarkably enough took his plate over to the washboard and set it down. Then he turned back to her, his expression unreadable. “Is there anything you’d like me to do tonight?”

  Penny shook her head. “We can get started first thing in the morning with the plowing and the planting. If that’s okay with you?” she asked.

  “And what are the other…arrangements?” His expression never altered as he said the words. Yet Penny’s face filled with red-hot heat. “I’m sure you’ll agree that our marriage is not one of the traditional nature.”

  He nodded.

  “For now, if you wouldn’t mind sleeping in the barn.”

  She watched his expression for any flicker of emotion, but there was none. He simply gave a quick nod then spun on his heel and headed out the door.

  Penny stood at the window and watched him stride across the yard to the barn. It was a disgraceful way to treat a guest, a man she’d just married, a fellow human being on the road to postwar recovery, but she couldn’t ask him to stay in the house with her. There were three other beds besides hers, but somehow it seemed too intimate, too much like a real marriage to have him under the roof with her. As much as she daydreamed about faraway places and being beautiful, she knew better than to attach a fantasy to this situation. She wasn’t plain, she was downright homely. And she knew it.

  The next morning Penny woke with the sun and started breakfast. They wouldn’t have much, just biscuits and coffee, but it was better than nothing. Wash was in for a hard day’s work, and she vowed to make up for the lack of meat as soon as she could. Maybe once all the planting was complete she would see if a hen wasn’t producing and they could have chicken for supper.

  Smiling to herself, she set about her chores. Wash headed to the field and she was left alone for the morning. Aside from knowing that Wash was plowing, her morning was no different than it had been before she had gotten married.

  She cleaned the breakfast dishes then headed outside to hoe the weeds from the garden plot. The small household garden had been her salvation in the past couple of years. It had provided her enough food to keep her going, but now she had a hungry man to feed. She would need twice the crop this year that she had the last. But with a husband in the fields, the two of them stood a better chance at success, at having a bit of money left over after everything had been paid.

  The sun had risen to directly overhead when Penny stopped and wiped an arm across her brow. Spring in Kansas could be unpredictable, and the weather had turned hot today. But it wasn’t the heat that caught her attention, but the rattle of a wagon. She looked up to see someone coming down the lane that led to her house. From this distance she couldn’t tell who it was, but she stood there and waited until she could make out the driver.

  “Lord, give me strength,” she prayed.

  She loved going to church in town. She loved the small church and all the people in the town, getting together and hearing God’s Word. She loved the preacher and how he took the Word of God and made it understandable, how he brought it to all the good citizens of Cooper every Sunday. But his wife…

  “Yoo-hoo!” The falsetto voice called as Margaret Benson waved enthusiastically from her perch in the wagon.

  “Hello.” Penny waved back.

  “I just wanted to come out to see you today,” Margaret said.

  Penny gave her a small smile, one that she hoped wasn’t too encouraging and yet wasn’t too much of a scowl. If she had learned one thing since being in Pastor Benson’s congregation, it was to limit her time with Margaret to as little as possible.

  “What brings you out today?” Penny asked, saying a quick prayer that she didn’t sound too inhospitable.

  She had a lot of work to do. And she didn’t know if Wash was coming back to the house for a meal. She supposed he would, that was what men did, wasn’t it? They went out in the fields, plowed all morning, then came home and had a meal and went back out and plowed some more. But how was she to know? She had never been married before. That was what her father had done. She could only assume that Wash would do the same thing. Yet as it was right now, the sun was high in the sky, and she didn’t have anything for him to eat.

  “I hope you’re not too busy.” Margaret lifted up her skirts and made her way toward Penny.

  “Of course not.” She smoothed her hands over her dress, hoping she wasn’t too dusty and grimy from being outside all morning. Margaret Benson looked as fresh as a spring rain, but the young woman always appeared that way. She had to have been at least ten years younger than her husband, but secretly Penny suspected it was more like twenty. Margaret was beautiful, and any man could see why she would catch a man’s eye. Blond hair in perfect ringlets, blue eyes that sparkled like the sky after a rain. Her skin was smooth, and her teeth perfectly straight. Her chin a feminine point.

  “I was just going in the house to get a drink,” Penny said. “Would you like to join me?” She had to ask. Didn’t she?

  Margaret shook her head. “Oh no, I can’t stay for long. I have to head out to the Tyrell place. Becky is supposed to have her baby soon, and I wanted to check on her beforehand.”

  Margaret smiled, that perfect, beautiful smile that made Penny feel as plain as dirt.

  “But I did want to talk to you about something.”

  That was ex
actly what she was afraid of. “Would you like to go to the porch and sit a spell?”

  Again, Margaret flashed her that beaming smile and nodded. “That would be lovely.”

  Penny led Margaret up the porch steps and over to the rocking chair and the bench she had placed there so long ago. It was a favorite place for her and her father to come out and sit. Sometimes her brother joined them as they watched the sunset. They whittled and drank lemonade, talked, and otherwise enjoyed each other’s company. They would have those times again. She was sure of it. She just had to be patient and keep things going until her father and her brother returned.

  “What’s on your mind, Margaret?” Penny settled down onto the bench, allowing her guest to have the more comfortable rocking chair.

  Margaret sat and fanned herself, rocking back and forth as she mulled over her words. “I just received some distressing news,” she said. “I was in town and Sheriff Riley told me that you bought yourself a husband from the gallows. Please tell me this isn’t true.”

  Her solemn words almost made Penny laugh. Almost. Except there wasn’t anything particularly funny about the situation. Nothing funny about the desperation of others. She’d simply done what she had to do. “I’m not in the habit of lying, Margaret. That’s true. I bought a husband yesterday.”

  Margaret drew back as if she had been faced with the serpent himself. Then she shook her head. “Oh Penny, Penny, Penny,” she moaned. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “I need a husband,” she replied matter-of-factly. Women like Margaret would never understand situations that faced women like Penny. It was a man’s world, and the men were in short supply these days. Penny had to do what she had to do to keep the farm running. Not to mention Jackson’s not-so-wonderful suggestion that she marry him. She might have, too, had he not started spouting off about her beauty. That’s when she had known that Jackson Alexander was only after her father’s land. He cared nothing for her. Nothing at all.