Wolf Creek Wife

by Penny Richards

  Both Edward and her mother had insisted that she was wrong. Sometimes these things just happened. Sorrow, an emotion she was on close terms with, filled her heart.

  Where had she gone wrong? Always the cautious one, she had thrown that caution to the wind and trusted her heart when she’d run away with Devon. A disastrous choice.

  And then she’d literally stumbled across Will and her life had spiraled out of control for the second time. Feeling as if her heart had died, lacking any hope of happiness, she’d listened to his cockamamie notion of a marriage of convenience and decided that it was as good a plan as any.

  She’d been happy at the farm. Always one who liked to learn, to be of help, she’d relished the challenges of living in the country and felt a keen sense of accomplishment for every little success. She’d been looking forward to making changes to the house that would do away with all reminders of Martha and make the house a reflection of her and Will’s personalities.

  Now that dream was gone, too.

  A knock sounded at the door and before she could answer, someone pushed it open. She turned her head and lowered her arm.

  Will stood there, his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his Levi’s, looking big and healthy and strong, his dark hair windblown and messy, as usual. There was an emotion in his midnight-hued eyes that she couldn’t define. Just the sight of him filled her empty heart with a sudden surge of happiness. She wanted him to grab her up and kiss her senseless and, at the same time, she wanted to pull the covers up over her head and hide from the intensity radiating from him.

  Why was he here when she’d told him things were over? What on earth could he possibly want?

  He closed the door and approached the bed. “Hi.”

  The simplicity of the greeting was not what she expected.

  “Hi.”

  “How are you?”

  She tried to smile. Failed. “I’ve been better.”

  He nodded. “I know you said you didn’t want to see me, but I heard about the baby and I had to come. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you?”

  The color drained from his face. “Hearing that you were having a baby was a shock, but surely you know me better than to think I’d want anything bad to happen to it.”

  Blythe saw the sheen of tears in his eyes, heard the break in his voice and was filled with shame for even suggesting such a thing.

  “I do know,” she said, her own voice quivering. “I’m sorry. I’m just a disaster right now.” Even knowing she was inviting more heartbreak, hoping against hope she would hear the words she so longed for him to say, she asked, “Is that why you came, Will? Because of the baby?”

  He drew in a breath as if to fortify himself for some upcoming battle. “No. I came because you’re my wife.”

  Responsibility. An invisible, giant hand squeezed her aching heart.

  “We took vows, Blythe Slade. We promised each other and God that we would be together for better and worse, in sickness and health, till death parts us. No annulment.”

  Blythe closed her eyes in defeat. There it was again, that sense of duty he was so proud of. Anger—at him and herself—pushed aside her sadness. She glared at him and gave a shake of her head.

  “Well, the death part can certainly be arranged,” she snapped.

  Will frowned. “What are you talking about? What do you want me to say, Blythe?”

  “For a man about town, you’re incredibly dense, Will Slade. I want you to say that you want me to come back because you can’t live without my bread, or my potato soup, or because you need a bookkeeper. Some reason you want me. Blythe Slade. Any reason but because I’m your obligation!”

  She watched the emotions play across his face, saw understanding replace his confusion. Saw a look creep into his eyes she’d longed to see at the same instance he smiled that wonderful Will Slade smile and burst into laughter.

  The next thing she knew he was lying next to her on the bed, gathering her into a tight, protective embrace.

  Shocked, she said, “I can’t breathe, Will. Let me go.”

  Lying facing each other, Will rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “Never.”

  Her heart took a little leap.

  “I want you to come back to the farm with me because I love you, Blythe, and I’ll love you for the rest of my life, and when you’re ready and want another baby, I’ll be more than happy to help out.”

  Seeing the mischievous look in his eyes, she actually giggled. “William Slade, you are impossible.”

  “But you love me anyway.”

  “I do.”

  Epilogue

  “I do.” Blythe beamed at her husband, who smiled back and gave her hand a squeeze.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Brother McAdams intoned. Again. “You may kiss your bride.”

  This time around, Will didn’t hesitate.

  The quiet in Hattie’s parlor erupted into cheers while friends and family gathered around, offering hugs and well wishes as Cilla Garrett’s nimble fingers danced across the keys of the pianoforte.

  It was just over a month since Blythe and Will had declared their love to each other. Wanting to do everything right, she had insisted that they have a second ceremony before truly becoming man and wife.

  In that short month she, Abby and Rachel, all her new friends, had put together the details of the wedding she’d always dreamed of; with Meg Allen’s skilled needlework, that included the lace-covered gown Blythe had designed for the special occasion.

  This time, Will’s brother, two sisters and mother had come with their families. Though she’d been leery of meeting Bess Slade, the older woman had literally welcomed her with open arms after confessing that she’d asked everyone in town about her son’s wife-to-be and received good reports from those who mattered. The Wolf Creek grapevine at work.

  Once again, Hattie’s parlor was decorated for the occasion, only this time there was more food, and more spring flowers scattered around the room. And there were smiles on the faces of their guests this time.

  Blythe looked up at the man next to her, so handsome in his new suit. She slipped her arm around him and he smiled down at her.

  This time everything was perfect, exactly as she’d dreamed it would be...especially the groom. The happiness she’d wanted was in her future at last, standing next to her.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from MAKE-BELIEVE BEAU by Keli Gwyn.

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  Make-Believe Beau

  by Keli Gwyn

  Chapter One

  Placerville, California

  June 1874

  “I understand your reservations about hiring a draftswoman, but I’ve seen Miss Sinclair’s work, and it’s exemplary.”

  Flynt Kavanaugh leaned back in his chair and studied Carter Corbin, seated opposite him behind the expansive desk. His boss’s scowl was so pronounced that his bushy gray eyebrows appeared as one.

  “So you’ve said.” Corby, as everyone called the shrewd manager, folded his arms over his ample midsection. His features relaxed. An encouraging sign. “While I don’t cotton to having a woman join the team, when an engineer of your caliber says the lady in question is worth considering, the least I can do is interview her.”

  Corby rummaged in his jacket’s breast pocket and produced a silver cigar case. “Don’t get your hopes up, though, son. An impressive portfolio is one thing. Producing quality drawings with the speed we require is another.”

  Flynt shrugged off the cautious man’s concerns. Corby might not be quick to embrace change, but he was fair.

  Once his boss saw Jessica Sinclair’s drawings, he’d have no choice but to admit she was the best person for the job. If everything Bishop had said was true, Miss Sinclair would have no trouble creating plenty more drawings on par with those he’d sent along with his glowing recommendation. The exacting engineer wasn’t one to exaggerate.

  Corby opened his cigar case, releasing the pungent aroma of expensive tobacco, and offered Flynt one of the Cuban cigars. “Help yourself.”

  “No, thanks. I don’t smoke.” He didn’t drink, either. Unlike the majority of men working on the El Dorado Canal, he refused to set foot in a saloon, although there were a number of them in town. He’d seen too many lives destroyed by a fondness for liquor and loose living.

  Corby selected a cigar and slipped the sterling silver case back into his breast pocket. “You’re a fine leader, Flynt, but it’s possible you’ve shown a lapse in judgment this time. Having a woman around could complicate things.”

  “Perhaps, but if she possesses the necessary skills, we’d be foolish to overlook her simply because she wears skirts. Kurt does a fine job as lead draftsman, but he lacks the mathematical prowess for the more complicated drawings.” Flynt needed someone who could take his ideas, perform the required calculations and produce conceptual drawings on occasion, but designing draftsmen were a rarity. That was why he’d invited Miss Sinclair up to Placerville for the interview.

  The clip of boot heels interrupted his thoughts. “That must be her.” He jumped to his feet and rushed into the hallway, eager to meet the woman behind the drawings for the first time.

  At the sight of Miss Sinclair, his heart broke into a gallop. Bishop had said she was comely, but that was an understatement. Striking would be a more apt description. The rich auburn locks visible beneath her simple bonnet gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window. Her light-brown outfit was as unremarkable as her hat. It appeared she didn’t go in for the frills many women did. Even so, she would turn any man’s head.

  But not his. He had no time for romantic pursuits. His career required his utmost attention. He would treat Miss Sinclair like any other member of his team.

  She reached him and stated her business without hesitation. “Good morning. I’m here for my interview.”

  He swallowed to moisten his throat, which had become dry. “I, um, figured you were.”

  “To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

  He gazed into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. They glittered like emeralds, an intriguing sight. If a man looked into them too long, he might say just about anything. “I’m Flynt Kavanaugh, the engineer. Mr. Corbin, or Corby, as we all call him, is the manager. He’s inside.” Flynt tilted his head toward the office to his left.

  The self-assured woman stood so close he got a whiff of her perfume. She smelled like spring. An image of picnics among wildflowers came to mind.

  “I’m Jessica Sinclair.” She held out her hand, and he shook it. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Kavanaugh.”

  “Whether you will or not remains to be seen. You must complete the interview and land the job first.” He hoped she would, but she’d have to prove herself worthy of the position—and overcome Corby’s reluctance.

  She gripped the strap of the cylindrical leather drawing case slung over her shoulder and studied him intently. One perfectly arched eyebrow rose, and her mouth quirked in a quizzical smile he found strangely appealing. “I see.”

  “What exactly do you see?”

  “A man who feels threatened by an intelligent woman invading his world, which I find odd. I was told you welcomed my application.”

  The woman’s confidence could serve her well. “I do. I’ve heard enough to understand you can handle the job. Corby, on the other hand, needs convincing.”

  “Oh.” She blinked several times, drawing attention to her long lashes. “Forgive me, Mr. Kavanaugh. I’m not used to a man as open-minded as you are.”

  Her willingness to admit her mistake and follow it with a sincere compliment spoke to her character. “Please, call me Flynt.”

  “Flint. Like the stone, I presume? A hard edge and useful when one wants to create sparks?” Her lovely lips twitched, as though she was stifling a laugh.

  He drew his gaze from the captivating sight. “It’s Flynt. With a Y.”

  She smiled once again, but this smile was as warm as the June day. “Well, Flynt with a Y, it’s clear working with you will be full of surprises.”

  “Likewise, I’m sure.” Miss Sinclair had spice. Unlike most women he knew, she spoke her mind. There would be no simpering behind fans for her, which was refreshing. He’d witnessed more coquetry in his early days than he cared to remember.

  “Since you seem to prefer informality, you may call me Jessie.”

  A lovely name for a lovely lady. “Very well. I’ll introduce you to Corby now.” He was tempted to warn her not to be intimidated by Corby’s gruffness, but it was clear Jessie could handle herself.

  Flynt made short work of the introductions. He and Jessie settled into the chairs in front of Corby’s desk.

  The older man tugged at the ends of his heavily waxed handlebar mustache. “Why should I hire you, Miss Sinclair? Having a woman around is sure to stir up trouble.”

  “Because I can do the job and do it well. Here. Let me show you.” She reached for the drawing case she’d propped against her chair, unfastened the buckle and withdrew the contents, which she held out to Corby. “I believe my work will speak for itself.”

  Corby’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “You’re rather presumptuous, young lady.”

  Flynt fought the urge to intervene. He wouldn’t do that for a man, so he couldn’t do that for her. If Jessie was to work here, she’d have to learn to deal with Corby’s brashness.

  Jessie lifted her chin and leveled her gaze at Corby, her green eyes flashing. “You haven’t even looked at my drawings, sir, and yet it appears you’ve made up your mind to find fault with me simply because I’m a woman. I’d like to think you’ll give me the same consideration you would any other prospective employee.”

  “All right. Show me.” Corby pointed to the rectangular conference table along the far wall of his office.

  The forthright woman marched to the table and spread the stack of drawings on the tabletop, holding them down to keep them from curling. Corby stood beside her, his focus on the topmost shee
t. Although he wasn’t an engineer, he did have some drafting experience. Hopefully enough to know what he was looking at. Even if he couldn’t follow the math, he could judge the quality of the drawings.

  Flynt leaned back against the table with his arms and ankles crossed, watching the proceedings with interest. He’d learned about Jessie during an unexpected encounter with Bishop. Impressed by the drawings his friend had sent up prior to the interview, Flynt had sung her praises to Corby. He could do no more. Please, Lord, let her overcome Corby’s objections.

  Any designing draftsman would do, but Flynt wanted Jessie. He hadn’t felt so strongly about a potential employee before, but he needed someone with her skills. Plus, Corby’s unfounded prejudice against her grated on Flynt. She deserved the opportunity to prove herself worthy of the position.

  Although her work was exceptional, his desire to hire her was reinforced by his growing respect for the bright woman with a backbone of steel. It had nothing to do with her arresting good looks or her radiant smile. Nothing at all.

  * * *

  Only by tapping into her self-control was Jessie able to resist the urge to increase the distance between her and Mr. Corbin. The man’s overbearing manner rankled. What was worse was the scent of tobacco smoke that clung to him, bringing back memories of her days singing at the High Stakes Saloon.

  No. She wouldn’t think about the past. She had a promising future, provided she secured this position at the El Dorado Water and Deep Gravel Mining Company. When her previous drafting job at a small irrigation company had come to an end, she’d set her sights on getting a more prestigious one. If that meant enduring yet another man’s scrutiny and proving herself capable in his eyes, so be it. She’d done it before, and she could do it again. “Are you finished with this one, sir? I do have three more drawings for you to look at.”

  Mr. Corbin cleared his throat. “I’ll let you know when I’ve seen enough.”

  She caught Flynt’s eye. He winked. At her. Not in a flirtatious manner, but all the same, his encouraging gesture surprised her. She preferred to keep things with her colleagues professional. Never would she let a man guess she was anything but a proper lady.