The Lassoed by Marriage Romance Collection

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

  “I don’t think the sheriff can give you a refund.”

  And that was just fine with her.

  Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

  MATTHEW 5:7

  Amy Lillard is a 2013 Carol Award–winning author who loves reading romance novels from contemporary to Amish. She was born and raised in Mississippi but now lives in Oklahoma with her husband and their teenage son.

  All’s Fair

  by Gina Welborn

  Dedication

  For my sister Dawn for driving me there and back again, and for the Hogwarts stop along the way. I promote you to Chief Research Assistant. No pay, but it’s cool to have a title.

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to the Cache Police Department; the Kansas State University Special Collections Department; the Wichita-Sedgwick County Historical Museum and Kansas Historical Society Museum in Topeka (I love museums!); the Kansas State Archives for the old map of Wathena and Doniphan County; and Cargill for donating five hundred pounds of bacon to Wichita’s First Annual Bacon Feast. Amen.

  If you are going to set out an orchard of any kind, plow the ground deep-very-deep and if the soil is not naturally rich, make it rich by the application of manure; then cultivate the field intended for trees as you would afield intended for a prize crop of potatoes.

  KANSAS FARMER, 1864

  Our field is large, our labors will be somewhat arduous, but with willing minds we can overcome all apparent obstacles, and place our State on an equality with the most favored fruit-growing regions.

  WILLIAM TANNER, president, Kansas State Horticultural Society, 1867

  I therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called, with all lowliness and meekness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love.

  EPHESIANS 4:1–2

  Prologue

  What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?

  GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON

  Wathena, Kansas

  July 4, 1900

  Coral Davies turned away from the tranquil Missouri River to look at the thousand or so people milling about the lawn and riverbank after a day of swimming and picnicking in the sweltering heat. Her heart beat frantically in her chest. The orchestra had started the last stanza of the national anthem before the mayor would read the Declaration of Independence. Everyone in Doniphan County had to be at the celebration, including every Kent and Davies keeping to separate sides of the pavilion and clearly on their best behavior since no altercations had broken out. Yet.

  She could feel worry etching lines into her brow.

  “Please, Coral, talk to me.”

  Her attention shifted to Hiram Kent standing a few feet from where she was near the edge of the ten-foot-long pier. Her traitorous heart fluttered. Tie askew, shirtsleeves rolled up, dark brown hair mussed—he looked adorable, charming, and stubborn as always. After five months of clandestine meetings, not one stolen kiss. If that didn’t prove his honorable character, she didn’t know what would. Which was why she had to be the one to do the right thing.

  She tapped her straw hat against her green-striped skirt and hardened her gaze. “I can’t keep disobeying my parents by sneaking off to see you. You have to leave. Go,” she ordered. “Jack said he’d beat you to high heaven if he saw us talking again.”

  His chin raised like it did when someone told him he couldn’t do something. “I can handle Jack.”

  She didn’t want to see what he looked like after he “handled” his cousin who had six years, twenty pounds of muscle, and at least eight inches in height on him.

  “Then go before my brothers see you,” she warned in a low voice.

  “Earning a black eye from talking to a Davies will be worth it,” he said. “Because you are worth it.” He winked, and her resistance weakened.

  He stepped closer, leaving a handbreadth’s distance between them. While she didn’t retreat, she did grip her straw hat with both hands to keep from touching him.

  “You know we can’t be together,” she whispered.

  “No, I don’t.”

  Even in the dimming sunlight, she could see unabashed adoration in those sultry dark eyes that had haunted her dreams and waking thoughts ever since the St. Valentine’s Day Sock Hop. Ever since she agreed to “Fine, Hiram, one dance,” despite him being a Kent and her a Davies. While Hiram was the most popular guy in Wathena High School, without a mean bone in his body, considering the hatred their families shared for each other, he wouldn’t have asked her to dance if he hadn’t wanted to.

  If he hadn’t liked her.

  As she liked him.

  He held out a torn sheet of paper. “Write to me. Please.”

  She didn’t have to take it to see he’d written down the address for the University of Missouri boardinghouse where Jack also lived.

  “If I write to you, everyone in town will know. Every. One.”

  “I don’t care who knows.” A muscle at his jaw flinched. “I love you, Coral, and I know you love me, too, or you wouldn’t try to protect me.”

  Her hat slid from her grip to the pier. Something—joy, fear, shock—gripped her heart. She liked him, felt giddy when he was near, but love? How could either of them know about love? They were eighteen, barely out of high school.

  Hiram brushed his knuckles across her cheek then tucked behind her ear a red curl that had loosened from her braid. Her pulse pounded in her ears. He was going to kiss her.

  For anyone—everyone—to see.

  She wanted him to. She didn’t.

  She did.

  Just once. Just once, for memory’s sake, and then she’d end it good and proper.

  Argumentative voices rose over the orchestra, drawing her attention. Jack Kent and her brothers, Gil and Whit, shoved at one another as they ran down the pier while spewing what sounded to be invectives toward Hiram. Gil reached Hiram first. His fist connected with Hiram’s mouth. Jack grabbed Gil’s arm and kneed him in the groin. As the pair fought, Whit’s hands encircled Hiram’s neck, squeezing his throat, lifting him up off the pier.

  “Stop!” Coral screamed.

  Hiram clawed at Whit’s hands. He coughed. “Let—go—”

  Coral jumped on her brother Gil’s back before he could punch Jack again. One arm around his neck, with her other hand, she yanked his hair, jerking his head backward. Gil howled.

  “Get off me,” he yelled.

  “I will once Whit lets go of Hiram,” she yelled back.

  Whit dropped Hiram to the dock.

  Hiram doubled over, hands on his throbbing throat, gulping for air. “That’s my girl.”

  Coral slid of Gil’s back. She breathed deep. “Let’s relax and—”

  “Relax?” Jack gripped Coral’s arms. “I warned you to stop leading him on.” In one fluid motion, he swung her into the river. The left side of her head smacked the cold water before she could even scream. A sharp pain burst in her ear.

  As Coral struggled to right herself, someone jumped in the water beside her. She gained her footing and stood in the chest-high water, gasping air, hair plastered to the side of her face, a buzzing in her left ear. She wobbled. Pulse pounded. Head ached. She wiped the dank river water from her eyes. On the pier, Whit and Jack—first time ever a Davies and a Kent unified—held Hiram’s arms behind his back.

  Gil’s torso rose out of the water. He grabbed Coral by the waist.

  She pushed him back and almost lost her balance again. “Stop, Gil. I can manage on my own.” She glared at Hiram. “I am not your girl,” she seethed. Never again. She turned to Jack. “Didn’t you swear to do no harm?”

  His jaw set in a very tight line.

  “I hate you, Jackson Kent,” she ground out. “I will hate you forever.”

  He shrugged.

  “Don’t you ever come near me again, you hear?”

  He gave her a smug grin despite his bloodied lip. “I can live with that.”

  Coral turne
d away in disgust. With a hand over her ringing left ear, she trudged out of the river. She didn’t look over her shoulder to see who followed. As soon as she had the means, she was leaving Wathena to the Kents and the Davies and their stupid feud.

  Chapter 1

  There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.

  JANE AUSTEN

  Saturday

  September 3, 1904

  It seems, Miss Coral Davies, this is your lucky day.”

  Coral gasped as Inez returned to the counter with a paper-wrapped bouquet of thirty petite white roses—exactly what Judge Swayze had asked Coral to find on short notice and under seemingly impossible odds. She accepted the fragrant flowers from the only other girl from their graduating class who had yet to marry. The roses appeared even whiter against the sleeve of Coral’s royal-blue walking suit and black Irish lace gloves.

  “They’re perfect,” she said. “I can’t believe no one wanted these for their parade float.”

  Inez chuckled. “Many did. I hid them Wednesday after you called.”

  “I owe you one.”

  “Oh, you don’t have—”

  “I insist.” Coral paused until Inez gave an accepting nod.

  As Inez filled out a receipt, Coral sniffed the bouquet. The sweet scent reminded her of Mrs. Swayze’s elegant home. One rule of being a social secretary was to not put herself or employers in debt to anyone by accepting favors. In light of the decreasing lack of purchasable roses this week because of the upcoming parade, owing Inez a favor was the right thing. While she and Inez had never shared intimate secrets, they were friends. Someday when Inez had a great need, Coral would find a way to fulfill it—hopefully before Coral left Wathena next month for her future in Cleveland.

  Coral laid the bouquet on the counter next to the alligator-skin briefcase her brother Whit had made for her twenty-third birthday last month. “I think if anyone is lucky, the town is, because the rain has stopped last night and there’s not a cloud in sight. What would Wathena do without the Labor Day carnival?”

  “Are you going?”

  “I have work.”

  “You always have work,” Inez chided.

  “True”—Coral grinned mischievously—“but I have a feeling the next thirty days will afford me a much-needed holiday.”

  Inez leaned over the counter. Her gray eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Do tell.”

  Coral started to comment but was cut off by a bell jingling above either the front or side entrance to the corner shop. Probably another frantic Labor Day float designer desperate for extra flowers or ribbon for Monday’s parade. Having grown used to being incapable of pinpointing the direction of the sound, she ignored who’d entered. She opened her briefcase and removed the fringed parasol—apple green and “an abomination” according to her father. Not that she carried it to defy him. The vivid color made her happy. And life was too short not to enjoy simple pleasures, as long as they were legal, moral, temperate, and the enjoying harmed no one.

  She withdrew her wallet wedged underneath the ribbon-tied box of chocolates.

  “How much…” Her words trailed off once she noticed how Inez’s flushed cheeks beautified her plain features.

  Whenever Coral blushed, the ruddiness in her cheeks and neck combined with the redness of her hair made her look splotchy and feverish. Although curious at who’d caused this reaction in Inez, she clicked open her wallet. Her job—and good manners—necessitated she mind her business.

  She withdrew a dollar. “How much do I owe you?”

  “It’s, uhh…” Inez brushed at the front of her white apron. “Good afternoon, Dr. Kent.”

  Coral froze. So much for this being her lucky day.

  He didn’t speak for an excruciatingly long moment. “Afternoon, Miss Potter.” Pause. “You the only one working today?”

  She nodded. “Everyone else had carnival invites, including Ma. Pa says just ’cause they’re married doesn’t mean they can’t still court. Can I help you find something?”

  He grunted as if to say, Since you’re the only one working, I’ll permit you to help me. “Yellow ribbon?”

  Inez motioned to the display on the other side of the counter. “Ribbon over five yards is twenty percent off this weekend.” She smoothed her dark hair, drawn back in a simple bun. “All, uhh, hands must be busy at the orchard if they sent you.”

  “Something like that.”

  Heels clomped against the wood floor as the handsome yet surly man in his snakeskin boots and three-piece beige suit passed behind Coral, making her breathless and uneasy as Inez, although for a different reason. Out of the corner of her right eye, she could see him standing at the ribbon display. His face was bristled instead of clean shaven. His left hand clenched his Panama hat, his right rested on the yellow ribbon, yet he didn’t pick it up. Jack Kent ought to be at the carnival. Or at the orchard overseeing the harvest. Or attending to a sick patient. Or—or—or anywhere else than where she was.

  They had an understanding.

  In the last four years and two months, he’d given her distance, and she’d reciprocated by giving him his, even though she’d felt his continued disdain. Not a word spoken.

  No hateful glares, either.

  Polite avoidance.

  Until last Sunday after the worship service. For decades the Kent and Davies families attended churches on opposite sides of the street. The moment Jack had taken a step in her direction—his distraught attention solely on her—she’d dashed inside her parents’ buggy. Not the most fitting behavior for a woman of twenty-three years. If he hadn’t thrown her into the river, she wouldn’t be deaf in her left ear and Hiram wouldn’t have become the Kent family prodigal son who missed his father’s funeral seventeen months ago.

  Two lives damaged because of Dr. Jackson Kent.

  Why didn’t he just leave Potter’s Flowers and come back after she was gone?

  Inez walked around the counter and stopped (posed, actually) at Coral’s left. Within Jack’s line of sight, if he were looking Coral’s direction, and from what she could tell, he was more fascinated with the ribbon roll he now held.

  If he was not leaving, then she would.

  While Inez’s besotted gaze stayed on Jack, Coral withdrew a few more dollars. “How much do I owe you?” she said the same moment Inez blurted, “Dr. Kent, can I help you find something else?”

  “I’ll wait,” Jack answered brusquely, “while you tend to…your other customers.”

  “He means me,” Coral put in. She smiled because, by golly, she would not permit Storm Cloud Jack to dampen her joy. She laid the money next to the register.

  Inez blushed again. “Oh yes, I…uhh…”

  She hurried around the counter and punched numbers into the register, her gaze continually shifting to Jack. She pulled the lever. Bell rang, drawer opened.

  “Here you go.” Inez offered two quarters.

  “Thank you.” Coral took the change. She placed it and the receipt in her wallet.

  Boots pounded against the floor. One step. Two. Approaching or walking away, she wasn’t sure, nor was she going to wait and find out. She stowed her wallet, grabbed her briefcase, parasol, and the bouquet, and dashed outside into the summer sun, turning in the direction of the carnival, leaving Inez to flirt with Jack. He had a solid reputation in the community. Polite. Kind. Generous to a fault.

  Some said he had a wonderful sense of humor. In many ways, he was much like Inez. And they attended the same church.

  Coral sincerely wished them well. Even Jack Kent should be loved.

  As she made her way down the sidewalk, she opened her parasol. Then she wedged the precious bouquet in the crook of her arm, holding it against her chest while she kept the parasol upright, clenching her briefcase in the other hand. She had a job to do and her own future to secure in Cleveland, home of The Arcade (a nine-story shopping mall!), Millionaire’s Row, and a theater district like nothing she’d ever experienced.

  Most of all, no fe
ud.

  Coral continued to smile as she walked past the businesses bedecked in red, white, and blue bunting. Buggies, horses, automobiles, and bicycles lined St. Joseph Street. Pedestrians like her bustled both ways, bumping her shoulders as they passed coming from or going to the carnival. If any offered apologies, she wouldn’t have known. The traffic on the road and music from the carnival hindered her hearing.

  She glanced at her wristwatch. Three sixteen.

  In two and a half hours, Judge and Mrs. Swayze would return home from the carnival to find their dining room set for a romantic meal and a will-you-marry-me-again proposal. Per the judge’s detailed plans. As long as the judge and Coral assuaged Mrs. Swayze’s worries about who would care for the estate while the couple was gone (Coral would), then she would agree to leave tomorrow for a surprise second honeymoon to The King Edward Hotel in Toronto, Canada. Thirty roses and thirty days in Canada for the thirty years that Jane—God bless that woman—Swayze “has put up with me,” or so the judge had said.

  Someday she would have a love like the Swayzes had.

  Someday she’d have a husband who made her laugh and who treated her like she was his greatest treasure, instead of one who only shared a house with her because they were married. Her parents argued more than talked. They seemed to make the most of their marriage for the sake of their children. Lately, they hadn’t even done that.

  Into her mind popped the faces of those at the orphanage. She’d adopt them all today if she could. Being unmarried, she couldn’t adopt. Not even a partially deaf little girl who liked drawing ponies and had an imaginary friend named Fire.

  No one deserved loneliness.

  Her smile died, heart ached. Coral breathed deep.

  She had to stop wallowing on what she didn’t have. Stop wishing. Stop thinking about anything, save for doing her job.

  Considering the extra work she’d put in this week after the judge stunned her with the news of how he wanted to surprise his wife, there was no way the Swayzes wouldn’t be on the outbound train tomorrow morning. She’d stake her job on it. In all reality, she had. This was the last test for her to earn the precious reference she needed to secure a social secretary position elsewhere. Life in a city with electricity and streetcars.