The Most Unsuitable Husband
Caroline Clemmons
The Kincaids Book Two
Smashwords Edition, 2011
Previous publication by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 2003
Copyright 2011 Caroline Clemmons
Cover Graphics
Romance Novel Covers
Jimmy Thomas
Delle Jacobs
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my real life hero, my husband, for his continued love and encouragement, and to my family and friends. Thanks to all those who helped critique this novel, including Sandy Crowley, Jeanmarie Hamilton, and Mary Adair.
Reviews For Caroline Clemmons’ Other Books
“Ms Caroline Clemmons has written a book that was so good it was hard to put down. She had my attention from the first page.” The Romance Studio, 5 Hearts, for The Texan’s Irish Bride.
“Just when you thought a happily ever after was just around the corner, another corner appears...I want more!” Night Owl Reviews, Top Pick for The Texan’s Irish Bride.
“OUT OF THE BLUE is a beautifully written story. The extraordinary characters, descriptive setting and fast paced action/suspense made this a delightful, enjoyable read. The in-depth POV from the hero and heroine gave me a great insight on their emotions. This is the type of book that pulls you in and you just don't want to end, but leaves you with satisfied smile after the last page is read. A perfect mixture of witty dialogue, sensual love scenes, and the happily-ever-after ending, Caroline Clemmons pens a timeless tale that I could re-read over and over again and never tire of it!” Siren Book Reviews, 5 Siren Stones for Out Of The Blue.
Filled with lively characters and interesting plot twists, The Most Unsuitable Wife, is a delightful tale of one woman's courage in the Old West. Drake will keep you laughing. He expects a normal marriage, with the subservient little wife. He doesn't bargain on Pearl! Pearl is one independent, bossy little lady who does not let a husband stand in her way. Judith Rippelmeyer, The Word On Romance
Most Unsuitable Husband
Caroline Clemmons
Chapter One
January 15, 1885
Lone Pine, Arkansas
Sonofabitch! The bastards are burying me!
Nate Bartholomew braced against the coffin sides and grappled the terror that pumped through him. The wooden box dropped for long, heart-stopping seconds, then bounced hard. Supreme willpower prevented his outcry. Dirt thunked onto the pine a few inches above his head while dust sifted inside the case. He bit back a cough.
Total darkness enshrouded him. The complete absence of light accelerated his panic. Stifling heat pressed in on him despite the bitter wind he'd heard above ground.
What happened to Monk? His friend had promised to get the coffin on the next train to anywhere. Out of this crazy town. Away from the angry mob before anyone discovered he hadn't died from gun shots at the saloon.
All sounds ceased. Senses sharpened. He smelled copper.
Good God Almighty, help me!
His wounds had reopened, and his life seeped from him. Would he bleed to death before he suffocated? He tasted dust on his tongue, felt grains of dirt on his face. Each breath choked him.
Mustn't cough, uses too much air.
Terror surged again. How much time had passed? Had the gravediggers left? He bent his legs a few inches, then shoved hard against the flimsy pine. Again. Again.
Watch out, you bastards. Hell hasn't got me yet.
***
February 1, 1885
St. Louis, Missouri
"Sarah Rochelle Kincaid! As if it's not bad enough, a Kincaid inheriting a bordello. You stop acting like one of the trollops right now. Quit gawking at the other mourners and try to look like the respectable lady you are."
Sarah winced at Aunt Lily's terse whisper and bowed her head for the funeral ceremony. Some ceremony. The few pitiful words her mother's remains received from a hasty minister, who probably wouldn't have spoken to a live Rochelle Jorgensen, hardly qualified. Poor Mama. Not even forty years old and nothing to show for her life but a saloon, a few motley friends, and consumption.
Sarah peeked from under her lashes at the other mourners. Her adopted Aunt Lily stood ramrod straight, face puckered like a sour lemon. Sarah regretted bringing Aunt Lily to the cemetery, but it wasn't proper to come alone. In fact, she regretted having brought Aunt Lily with her on the trip from Texas. She had wanted to hire a pleasant companion, one who would sympathize with her poor mother's plight and make the trip interesting instead of an ordeal.
Three saloon girls sobbed into their handkerchiefs, their bright satin dresses as gaudy and tawdry in the daylight as their brilliantly dyed tresses. Sarah had wondered why the girls wore such gaudy saloon clothes to the funeral instead of daytime dresses, but Ruby explained these were the last dresses Mama had given them. With the breeze came the smell of the cheap perfume worn by the girls. Those three, the bartender, and the man who stood guard at the saloon door were the only other mourners at the cemetery. Five lost souls from her mother's short life.
It won't be like this for me. I won't let it.
She wanted friends and family, a stable home, to be respected in the community. When she died, plenty of people would mourn her loss. She intended to leave a legacy of good works--and children, grandchildren, friends who would celebrate all she had accomplished on this earth.
And she wanted to accomplish a lot. To serve others in need as her half sister, Pearl, had served her and their half brother, Storm. To make a change in the lives of others as Pearl did with her healing. To set a good example.
The minister droned on about repentance and the life hereafter. Sarah's gaze roamed the cemetery. Not far away, a lone man stood staring at her little group. Perhaps he had lost someone, too. No, he stared directly at her. My stars, glared would be more like it.
Sun streaking through tree limbs over his head shot his light brown hair with gold. Dressed in a black suit and gray patterned vest, he wore a fancy white shirt and a black string tie. In his hand he held a flat crowned black hat with a wide brim. Could he be some gambler who had known her mother?
A handsome man, she thought, if only he would smile. He braced one shoulder against the tree trunk. She wondered if grief brought him here. He looked angry, not sad.
"Sarah, "Lily's harsh whisper caught her attention.” I declare, are you staring at that man during your very own mama's funeral?"
She felt herself flush before she whispered back, "He keeps watching us. I wondered if he knew Mama."
"Half the men in town knew your mama. And I do mean in the Biblical sense. Now pay attention and quit embarrassing me."
One more time, Sarah wondered why she let herself be bullied into bringing Lily as chaperone. And why did she let Lily talk to her so rudely? She sighed and admitted she always let others dominate her. What kind of good works could she accomplish if she couldn't stand up for herself?
At first she had wondered why Lily agreed to act as escort, but now she knew the answer. Lily used any opportunity to her own advantage. Her old beau, Harold Vermillion--now an eligible widower-
-lived near their host and hostess, Harold's brother Walter and sister-in-law Margaret. Wild horses couldn't have prevented Lily visiting St. Louis once she learned Harold would welcome her consoling presence.
The minister ceased his admonitions and mourners filed past to offer condolences. Poor little Faye cried so much the kohl around her eyes smeared into a raccoon mask. Her hair escaped its headdress and tumbled in an iridescent yellow spill down her puce satin gown.
"You know Roxie was the best person in the world. I would have starved if it wasn't for her. She helped me when no one else would."
"Thank you for telling me.” Sarah felt as if someone else spoke the trite phrase. "And thank you for coming.
Ruby's orange hair belied her name, but Sarah liked her best of the girls. Lollie and Ruby approached together.
"She's better off," Ruby said, smoothing a crease in the black lace of her red dress. "But don't ever forget she thought of you every day, and was so proud of you."
"That's right," Lollie said. "Kept your little portrait with her all the time."
Though she deeply mourned her mother's death--and life--Sarah had thought herself cried dry. Now she fought tears as she repeated the same phrase, "Thank you for telling me. Thank you both for coming."
The bouncer nodded to her. "Sorry 'bout your ma. She gave me a job when I was awful hungry. Trusted me like I was somebody. I won't never forget her."
"Thank you. That would make her proud."
Bowler hat in his beefy hands, the bartender stopped in front of her. "Reckon we'll be finishin' up our business tomorrow?"
Sarah nodded. "Yes, Mr. Fykes. I'll come to the saloon to clear out the rest of Mama's things. The attorney will meet us there at two, then The Lucky Times Palace will belong to you."
"Been waitin' a long time to have my own place. Still and all, I'm right sorry it come about from Roxie's passing on."
"Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."
When the last of the mourners had offered condolences, Sarah stood by the open grave. Workmen arrived and shoveled dirt onto the casket holding Mama's remains. Sarah's heart broke for all the pain her mother had suffered. She wanted to stop the workmen, to urge them to let her have more time to say goodbye, but couldn't speak.
She jumped when she felt a firm grip on her arm.
"Come along." Lily pulled at her. "Margaret expects us for dinner and Harold is stopping by later. Thank goodness this debacle is over."
Sarah pushed down the goose-egg-sized lump in her throat to defend her mother. "Mama was a good person, Lily."
Lily's nose tipped up. "I suppose everyone thinks his or her own mother is a good person."
"In this case I'm right. She helped a lot of people. Didn't you listen to the people who worked for her?"
Her aunt stopped and shot her a frown, her mouth open in surprise. "No, I did not listen to that riffraff. Surely I hardly need remind you of how your mama earned her living?"
Sarah walked ahead with her head high. Though she felt a blush spread, her heavy veil hid it from Lily. "I know she let the girls take customers upstairs if they chose to, but she didn't do, um...that and didn't encourage them to. Cal and Mama were married as well as being professional partners until he died. Mama ran a saloon, a successful business, not a brothel as you said."
Surprised at her own long speech, she wished she had the gumption to remind her holier-than-thou aunt of Lily's own checkered past, but the words wouldn’t come.
"Well, it's a sordid business at best. Thank goodness you're selling that awful place immediately."
"Mama had the sale all arranged. Besides, I couldn't very well run a St. Louis saloon from Texas. Mama was proud I have my teaching at home."
"Your teaching? I declare I do not understand why you insist on teaching those low class children in your very own school. If their parents don't want to teach the children English so they can go to school in town, why should you?"
Refusing to be drawn into an old argument with her snobbish aunt, Sarah fell silent. She hated confrontation, and conversations with Lily brought nothing else.
The Vermillion's driver helped them into the buggy as if they were rare porcelain. Lily arranged her skirts carefully. Sarah caught herself imitating her aunt's actions automatically and sighed again. Sometimes she felt invisible, just an imitation of her aunt or her sister Pearl. Not that she minded being like Pearl, but she wanted to be her own person.
That man in black stood watching as they drove past. Lily pointed her nose in the air as if he were unworthy of notice. From beneath her veil Sarah turned her head and returned his stare. What a handsome man--if only he would smile.
****
Nate watched the two women leave the cemetery in a fancy carriage before dizziness reclaimed him. He held onto a low tree limb and looked for a place to sit before he fell.
"Thought that was you. We heard you wuz dead. Sorry about your pa, Lucky."
He pivoted toward the voice to face Fykes. "Don't call me that. Lucky Bartholomew is officially dead and so are Nathaniel Madison Bartholomew, Ace Bartholomew, and all the other names I've used in the past ten years. I hope you'll not say differently to anyone."
"Depends on your plans. You staking your claim to The Lucky Times Palace?” The man carried his bowler in his hands, twirling the brim this way and that.
"Heard you and Roxie's daughter talking. I've no mind to upset your plans. No, you're welcome to it.”
He sank onto a stone bench beside a crypt and watched the bartender's eyes narrow in speculation.
"You don't mean you're giving up The Lucky, like that?"
"I'm giving up nothing, just changing sources. That little skirt will share with me whether she wants to or not."
"We had a wire from some sheriff in Arkansas. Came after Cal died. Said you wuz dead and buried."
"I was, so to speak, even hid out in a coffin. The bastards buried me before Monk could get the coffin out of town on the train. Had to start digging my way out before he got there. Like to have died."
"Monk here, too?" Fykes looked nervous, fidgeting with his hat and frowning.
"On his way. Had some business in Poplar Bluff." Nate didn't want the bartender running to the law with news of his miraculous survival and sought to reassure the other man.
"Look, you got no reason to worry about me. I have to stay officially dead to stay out of jail, so I can't be claiming my share of The Lucky Times Palace. I can't even be seen around town."
Fykes's shoulders relaxed. "Too bad about Cal."
Nate nodded. "Damn right, it's too bad. He always tried to run a clean game. What happened?"
"Breaking up a fight over a poker game. One of the men wuz a sore loser, claimed the other fella cheated. Cal caught the bullet meant for one of the card players."
"He sent for me. With Roxie sick and all, he wanted Monk and me to take a hand in running The Lucky." Bitterness roiled in Nate's gut. Once again, fate had dealt him a losing hand. No. This time he would make it work, one way or the other.
Fykes said, "After the wire sayin’ you wuz dead, Roxie thought everything belonged to her. She knew she didn't have long left and started arranging her business. Sent for her daughter."
"What's the girl like?"
Fykes brightened and a smile split his round face. "Right sweet. You know, gentle and refined-like. Got here five days 'fore Roxie died. Roxie must of been just aholdin' on 'til she come. She sure wuz a blessing to Roxie at the end, I can tell you. And purty. Lordy, she's a purty little thing."
"Little? She looked to be taller than you."
"Oh, she's a tall woman, all right, mebbe three or four inches under six feet. It's how she acts, you see, real dainty-like. Makes you think she'll break if you don't take special care."
"Couldn't tell much with that veil she wore," Nate said.
"Her hair's darker than Roxie's, more like ale than champagne. Her eyes are blue and turn purple when the light's just right, kinda the color of them wine bottles from G
ermany you used to favor. And her skin, Lordy, you ain't never seen skin as purty and soft lookin' as hers." Fykes flushed red as a bandana, as if embarrassed spouting such soft phrases.
"Seem to remember years ago the daughter was adopted by some rich family in Texas. You hear about that?" Nate asked.
Fykes scratched his balding head and donned his hat. "Kind of a crazy mixed-up family, I'd say. Half-sister's husband adopted her, rich folks I heard. Don't that beat all? Never heard the likes of such before, a man adoptin’ his sister-in-law. Hurt Roxie and made her happy all at the same time."
"Well, no rich family adopted me. She's got my money and my mother's jewelry. I need them, she doesn't. No matter how beautiful she is, I'll be relieving her of both. Soon. I refuse to be cheated out of what's mine."
"Whatcha gonna do?"
"Soon as I get what's coming to me, I'll be heading to New Orleans and open my own Lucky Times Palace there.” He shivered, and a chill swept through him even as beads of sweat gathered on his brow.
"That's right nice, Nate. Must've been a shock, coming' back to find your pa and Roxie both gone."
"You bet it was. Pa sent for me. I thought I was comin' home to make things up with them, help with Cal's share of the business. Thought things were finally going right. When I got here, he was dead, Roxie was dead, and this slip of a girl had everything.” Another shiver racked Nate's body and he fought to remain seated upright on the bench.
Fykes took a step toward him. "Say, you okay? You look pale as a corpse yourself."
Nate clutched his side. "A gift from the citizens of Lone Pine, Arkansas, two weeks ago. Wounds are infected, but I don't dare go to the doctor."
"You put on your hat. Pull the brim low. Duck your head and come on over to The Lucky. Go round back. Can you make it up the stairs?"
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