The Cowboy Imports a Bride (Cowboys of Chance Creek)

by Cora Seton

  He'd expected gratitude. Not retaliation.

  "Should we send it to Morgan? Show her how much you looooove her?" Jamie asked, knocking back his cowboy hat, the better see Rob. His dark hair was falling into his eyes as usual. A bit shorter than Rob and Ethan, Jamie's model-good looks still caught the eye of every woman who walked by.

  Rob supposed he deserved that, too. After all, he had screwed up Jamie's proposal to Claire with a well-timed practical joke, as well.

  "No – don't get her hopes up," Claire chimed in. "Morgan deserves a real man. One who isn't afraid of commitment."

  "You mean a guy who can date a woman more than two weeks running?" Rose said, laughing like she knew all about it. Well, she did, didn't she?

  Everyone did.

  "Has he ever dated anyone for two weeks running?" Cab said. The sheriff had way too much time on his hands if he could show up at the airport for this. Usually the large man held his peace, but this time he seemed all too happy to throw his lot in with the rest of these jokers.

  Everyone else laughed.

  Ethan looked the sheriff up and down. "Hey, I've got an idea, Cab. Why don't you date Morgan? Get her to move to Montana for good. If Rob here keeps going after her, she'll end up running away to Alaska or something."

  Rob stiffened. Cab? Dating Morgan? "Hey!"

  They all ignored him. "Cab's perfect," Claire said, turning an appraising eye on the big man. "You'd be part of the family, then. You know, after the two of you got married."

  Married? Cab and Morgan? Rob fought to keep his hands from clenching into fists.

  Cab appeared to consider this. "She's awfully pretty," he agreed. "Got a good head on her shoulders, too."

  "Lay off!" Rob couldn't keep his voice from rising.

  "Why – you getting serious about her?" Cab goaded him.

  "Serious? Rob?" Claire said. "That'll be the day."

  Feeling like an unbroken horse caught in a corral, Rob glared at all of them. "I can be serious."

  Everybody laughed like he'd uttered a terrific joke. Damn it, wasn't anyone going to back him up?

  He saw Autumn lingering behind Ethan. Despite her months on the Cruz ranch, she still stood out from the rest. Her long, brown hair and elfin face always made her look a little other-worldly. He knew from experience she didn't like practical jokes – didn't like it when people got laughed at – and now he understood why. It sucked being on the receiving end, didn't it? Why had he ever become such a prankster?

  Well, he knew exactly why, didn't he? To keep three older brothers off of his back. To keep everyone else from teasing him. He'd been different, once – too sensitive, too much of a dreamer – but that was a long time ago – a hell of a long time ago. No one messed with him now.

  Not usually.

  "I'm out of here," he said, and stalked off down the hall toward the exit. He realized he didn't even have his own truck to ride home in. Well, he'd be damned if he took a ride from one of his so-called friends. He hoped there'd be a cab out front when he reached the door.

  There was, thank God, and he climbed in and told the driver to take him to the Dancing Boot before anyone else reached the pavement.

  To hell with all of them. He could be serious. He could date a woman for more than two weeks.

  He just hadn't tried it yet.

  * * * * *

  Morgan clicked through her text messages to find the one she'd received from the caterer that morning. Jillian Hodgeson was probably sick of her by now, but she was determined that the event scheduled for her vintage's debut would go off without a hitch. Check and recheck every detail – that was her motto when she ran these affairs. So far it had paid off. Taking on this extra role at the winery was one of the things which brought her to the owner's attention. Elliot Cassidy was a crusty old man whom she didn't particularly like, but respected because of his position. His son, Duncan, was another matter. He was an ass.

  She paused when she spotted the text Claire had sent her earlier in the day. Asking her again what she knew about the way their mother had spent her money. Morgan pressed her lips together. She knew what Claire was after. Aria had blown through large amounts of the Cruz ranch's profits, and when she and Alex died in a car accident the preceding August, Ethan and Claire had been left with a business seriously in debt. Only by taking on Jamie as a partner and turning the spread into a guest ranch had Ethan been able to refinance it and buy out Claire's share. Claire was rich now, but she couldn't let the mystery go: how had Aria spent all that money? Claire seemed sure her mother had blown it on Morgan.

  Morgan had already told her a hundred times that while Aria had taken her to restaurants and bought her clothes now and then when she came to visit, she had not underwritten her day-to-day upkeep – as a child or an adult.

  It must be galling to her siblings that Aria had siphoned so much money from the ranch, but it hurt her that Claire still blamed her for the loss of the cash – even if her texts were worded carefully, with plenty of assurances that she was just curious.

  The part where Claire asked for the dates of Aria's visits really bothered her. She was afraid the dates she gave her wouldn't add up. She had realized something in the weeks since she met her half-brother and sister. When Ethan and Claire talked about their mother's yearly absences, they always talked about months.

  Aria never stayed in Victoria more than a month, however.

  Morgan could imagine how Ethan and Claire had felt when they learned their mother's shopping sprees in Europe were really visits to a daughter in Canada they didn't know she had. They must have felt betrayed – stabbed in the heart. It was a miracle they accepted her at all, let alone made friends with her, but their friendship meant more to her than she could ever express.

  What if there were more secrets to find out about Aria Cruz? What if those secrets tore her new, precious family apart? Claire seemed bent on doing that herself.

  What had Aria done with the rest of her time away from home? Had she actually gone to Europe and done some shopping?

  Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  It was the maybe not that left her cold. Morgan hugged her arms across her chest. Could she possibly have another half-brother or sister out there? Could one Montana girl leave a trail of children across a continent or two?

  In her darkest moments, that's exactly what Morgan pictured. But no – that would require lengths of time away from home that Aria simply hadn't spent. Claire said her year away during college was the only time Aria had been gone from Montana for so many months.

  So no other children. Probably.

  Morgan dropped a hand to her own flat stomach. No children for her, either. Claire had mentioned she and Jamie were thinking of trying for a child as soon as they got married. With Autumn already pregnant, Claire said she wanted to be sure their kids were of similar ages.

  "That makes it so much more fun, don't you think?" she'd commented the last time they talked on the phone.

  Yes. She did think that would make it more fun. Too bad she was stuck a thousand miles away, with no husband in sight, let alone a child.

  Maybe she should say yes the next time Duncan hinted around about marriage.

  Shivering with disgust at the thought of marrying her boss's son, she pulled her thoughts back to Chance Creek, the Cruz ranch, and Rob Matheson. Now there was someone she'd like to have a baby with. Tall, broad-shouldered, muscled in all the right places, with hands that set her skin on fire…

  She stifled a laugh. As if that would ever happen. Everyone she met in Chance Creek took her aside at one time or another to tell her Rob was bad news. A lady's man with no desire to ever settle down. She'd told them all she could handle him, and she had. They'd made out a lot, but done nothing else. Every time he tried to take things further, she stopped him cold.

  No way she'd lose her heart to someone so entirely off limits.

  Except she kind of already had.

  She glanced back down at Claire's text again, and r
esolutely clicked past it. Caterer. Party. Vintage.

  She had far too much work to do to think about anyone back in Chance Creek.

  * * * * *

  "Buy me a drink, cowboy?"

  Rob slid his gaze over to the curvy brunette who'd taken the stool next to his at the long, wooden bar in the Dancing Boot. He squinted a little. Georgette Harris, from the next town over. Where'd she work? The feed store, that was it.

  "I'm outta cash," he lied. Truth was, he had a little money left in his pocket, but only enough to keep himself drunk tonight.

  "I'll buy my own drink, then. Hope you don't mind the company." She smiled at him and leaned closer, all the better to flash him some cleavage.

  Pretty impressive cleavage.

  "Free country," he mumbled. He'd already consumed a hefty amount of alcohol, but the sting of the afternoon's confrontation at the airport was still sharp. Some friends. Not one of them had defended him. No respect at all.

  She laid a hand on his arm. "I've got the night off."

  He frowned, trying to work that one out. The feed store wasn't open past six. "Night off from what?"

  "From my boyfriend, silly. From Jessie – you know Jessie Henry."

  Sure. Maybe. But he couldn't bring the man's face to mind.

  She leaned even closer, her breast brushing his arm as she whispered into his ear, "Thought I'd have a little fun while he's out of town. You know what I mean?" She dropped a hand to his thigh.

  Yeah. He knew exactly what she meant. Rob straightened a little and eyed her speculatively. "Why pick me?" he asked, surprising himself. Why even bother asking? Why not take the gift he'd been handed and show the lady a heck of a good time like he usually would?

  "You won't be no problem tomorrow," Georgette said cheerfully. "Nor tonight. Some guys get squeamish about fooling around with another man's girl. Not you. And I know I won't get any phone calls next week wondering where I am. You'll be too busy chasing after some other guy's woman."

  Wow. That was harsh. Suddenly he felt all too sober.

  "Guys like you are handy," she said, as if sharing a confidence. "A girl can yank your chain, have her way with you, and kick you back into the closet when she's done. You're like a pair of high heels. Great now and then when you want a party, but useless for the day-to-day."

  Rob blinked.

  She must have caught his expression, because she rushed to add, "But pretty. You're real pretty, ain't you, Rob?"

  "Fuck off." He stood up, slapped some cash on the bar and stalked toward the door, weaving a little before he got his bearings. Guess he was a little drunk after all.

  Cab cut him off before he made it halfway across the room. He hadn't even seen the man enter the Boot.

  "Tell me you're not driving," Cab said.

  Rob pushed past him, into the still-warm Montana evening. Cab followed him outdoors. Aside from the music spilling out of the Boot with them, Chance Creek was already quiet. Most folks were tucked in for the night. Past nine o'clock this town shut down.

  "Can't let you do that, buddy. Give me the keys."

  Hell.

  With a sigh, Rob handed them over, but instead of heading toward his Chevy, he struck out on foot.

  "Where you going?" Cab called after him.

  "Nowhere."

  Nowhere at all.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Morgan hopped on one foot as she threaded a leg into the tailored pants she planned to wear to work this morning. She tried to keep her cell phone between her shoulder and her cheek, but the thing was too darn small to balance there.

  "So first Mom spends twenty-four years telling me never to have children, and now she tells me I better get pregnant again right after this one's born," Autumn said in her ear. They talked most days – Autumn filling her in on all of the ranch gossip and venting her frustrations about guests and family. It was barely getting light out, but Morgan knew ranch life started early. Ethan would already be out doing his chores, and Autumn would be prepping breakfast for her guests. Often she and Autumn squeezed in a call before the day got busy.

  "Why is she rushing you?" Morgan asked. "You've got tons of time." As usual when she talked to Autumn she felt a jealousy she tried to squash. Autumn had all the things she wanted – a business of her own, a husband she adored.

  And a baby on the way.

  Morgan couldn't believe she was still single at this age. Maybe getting married earlier and having a family would have screwed with her career. Fine – she didn't need to rewrite the past. It was the future that scared her. What did all her successes mean if there was no one to share them with?

  "You're forgetting who Mom's patients are; women who can't conceive on their own. When you spend all day telling forty-something-year-old women that they're not fertile anymore and are going to have to spend thousands of dollars on invasive procedures, you tend to get a skewed view of things."

  "Don't you mean fifty-something-year-old women?" Morgan asked, trying to shrug into her blouse.

  "No, I mean forty-something. Even thirty-something. Don't tell me you're one of those women who thinks they have all the time in the world to start a family. There's no guarantee it'll work, no matter what your age. Even women in their twenties can have trouble conceiving. If you want kids, you need to get a move on."

  Suddenly Autumn had her full attention. Morgan stood stock still, the blouse still gaping open. "What?"

  "Oh, I…shoot." Morgan could picture her in the Cruz ranch Big House kitchen, whipping up breakfast. She'd be standing by the counter that separated it from the huge living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows and their incredible view of the Montana landscape. "I’m sorry, that came out all wrong. You know what my mom's like; I think I was channeling her for a minute there. Forget everything I just said. You do have plenty of time."

  But Autumn's tone told her she didn't entirely believe that. "You really think I might not be able to have kids?"

  "No! I don't mean that at all. Boy, I really stuck my foot in my mouth, didn't I?" Autumn paused. "Here's what Mom would say. Even if you got married next month and got pregnant right away, you wouldn't give birth until you were 33. Let's say two years later you try again. You're 36 or 37 when your second child is born. Now you're looking at forty around the corner. Two kids is plenty for most people, but no one tells women that if they want a big family, they need to start early. And let's face it – you're not getting married next month, are you?"

  "N…no." Feeling like she'd been sucker punched, Morgan hastened to do up her buttons with fingers that suddenly didn't work right. Sure she was looking forward to getting married, but she had felt like she still had plenty of time to start her family. Lots of time to have two, three, even four children. She'd always wanted a houseful, and now she was too old?

  "But…what if I don't get married for a couple of years?" she said.

  "Then you might need the help of someone like my mom." Autumn's voice changed. "But no one's saying you even have to have kids. You have a great career, right? Oh, darn – I gotta go. Ethan just came in."

  She clicked off, leaving Morgan speechless. Yes, she had a fantastic career. Sort of.

  Okay, actually it sucked. Elliot Cassidy was a tyrant and Duncan was all hands and innuendos. She'd been desperate to leave for months, but was afraid if she did so, she'd have to leave Victoria, as well. The wine industry on the island was small and tight-knit. If the Cassidys heard she was looking for work elsewhere, she had no doubt they'd do their best to undermine her job search.

  Besides, she wanted more than a job. She wanted to own her own winery someday, and she wanted to create vintages that would bear her name, not the Cassidys'.

  She wanted a family, too. A big one.

  She was sick to death of being alone.

  * * * * *

  Rob pulled his hat off as he paced wearily down the center aisle of the Chance Creek Lutheran Church. He slid into a pew about halfway down and leaned back against the wooden seat, thankful to take
a load off.

  He didn't know how long he'd walked during the night, striding along the highway as if he meant to leave Chance Creek behind him for good. When he sobered up and realized it was himself he was trying to leave behind, not the town or the people in it, he turned around and walked back again.

  His feet were sore, he stank of alcohol and sweat, and he was sure if Georgette saw him now she'd run the other way screaming, but he wasn't ready to head home yet. Not until he'd thought a few more things through. This seemed as good a place as any to do that, with its wooden floors and clean, spare lines.

  He scraped the back of his hand against the stubble on his chin. He was a mess, all right. Through and through. His life today bore no resemblance to the one he'd expected to lead. Sure, he was a rancher, after a fashion. Although he acted more like his father's hired hand. But somehow he thought his life would add up to more. He'd thought he'd be respected, like his father was. That he'd be in charge…of something. That he'd have more to show for the work he did.

  Instead, he was a joke.

  No one took him seriously. They certainly didn't look up to him. He couldn't blame them, either. He spent his time goofing off, drinking, sleeping around, and playing jokes on everyone who came near.

  "Been a while, Rob."

  Startled, Rob glanced up to see Reverend Joe Halpern standing at the end of the pew.

  "Sure has." He ducked his head, embarrassed to be caught here.

  "Don't mind me," Joe said, as if reading his thoughts. He was a husky man in his late 60's. Out of his Sunday garb he looked like any other rancher in these parts. His jeans strained below a somewhat protruding belly. A green button-down shirt was tucked in neatly at his waist. "I'll go about my business unless you'd like some company."

  Suddenly Rob found it difficult to speak. He could use a little company right now. Anything to stop the dark thoughts that chattered in his mind.

  Joe nodded as if he understood. "I remember when you used to come to church like clockwork – all you Matheson boys did back then. I had the feeling you didn't mind it as much as the others, though, even though your parents had to herd the lot of you between them like so many cattle. You were only a pipsqueak and I had a full head of hair back in those days."