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The Most Unsuitable Wife
Caroline Clemmons
Smashwords Edition, 2011
Previous publication by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 2003
Copyright 2011 Caroline Clemmons
Cover Graphics
Lilburn Smith
Pioneer Woman Photo
Stephanie Hoerold
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.
Author contact information Mailto:[email protected]
This is a work of fiction. 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.
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Acknowledgments
Always, to my sweet Hero husband.
To my wonderful grandmother, Frances Josephine Gamble Phifer Reynolds, for sharing the story of the real “pig girl” she knew as a child in Spencer County, Tennessee. It’s a sad story, and I don’t know what happened when the girl was grown, don’t even know her name. But I wanted to imagine a happy ending for anyone who had to endure being called “pig girl.”
To Sandra Crowley for helping critique this book. It was during one of our critique sessions that Amy Garvey, the Kensington editor, called to offer a contract on this and the follow-up book, The Most Unsuitable Husband. Also to Mary Adair and Jeanmarie Hamilton, who helped critique the original.
The Most Unsuitable Bride
Caroline Clemmons
Chapter One
Texas hill country, March 10, 1878
"Marry by my thirtieth birthday or lose this ranch to my worthless uncle?" Seething with rage and betrayal, Drake Kincaid stepped off the porch of his ranch house, glared back at his grandfather and cousin Lex. "How could my own flesh and blood put me in this position? All I've worked for hangs by a wedding ring and a lace noose."
Drake turned to gaze across the wide expanse of gently rolling range sloping to the Pedernales River. New leaf buds swelled on the branches of the cottonwoods and willows, promising the end of winter. Early bluebonnets would soon be joined by other wildflowers bursting in a riot of color.
The sight of this land usually filled him with pleasure. Today the threat of losing all he held dear blinded him to the rustic beauty. He had ridden every acre and walked most of them to tend cattle, horses, and the stock food crops he grew. He knew each dip and rise better than the face of his closest friend or relative. The land was branded on his soul.
Dear Lord, how could he bear to lose this? The thought staggered him and he shut his eyes against the pain.
Without turning, Drake returned his attention to his grandfather. Grandpa had been his ally against the follies of his ill-matched parents when they were alive and had acted in their place for most of Drake's life. "Why didn't you talk them out of it, Grandpa?"
"I tried. You think they listened to me?” Robert Kincaid rested his hand on his grandson’s shoulder. "Be reasonable, son. You've known the conditions of your parents' will these twelve years since they died. Why hold me responsible now?"
Drake shrugged off his grandfather's hand and turned to face him. "You are responsible, you're the judge here. Instead of enforcing the marriage clause in that ridiculous will, you could help me break it.”
He'd always believed his grandfather would do just that. For years Drake had pushed that absurd marriage clause to the back of his mind, never considered the will a threat. Until now.
His grandfather's craggy face broke into a scowl. The older man's faded blue eyes sparked beneath bushy white brows as he pointed a weathered finger at Drake's chest.
"That's where you're wrong, son. If I don't enforce the law for my own family, how can I expect others to respect it? And just what makes you think your hard-nosed uncle Winston would stand for such a thing?”
Drake turned on his cousin. "You're a lawyer. Why don't you help me?"
Lex shook his head. "They've got more lawyers in Boston than you could shake a stick at. Cuz, if you tried to break the terms of that will, Winston would be on you like a chicken on a June bug. You can bet good money your mother’s money-grubbing brother is already counting the days 'till your birthday."
Lex walked over and slumped a lanky hip against the hitching rail. Wind ruffled Lex's auburn hair and sunlight brought out the freckles splashed across his amiable face. If not for the concern in his cousin's dark eyes, Drake might have thought Lex unaffected by all he heard.
Concern was well and good, but Lex wasn't the one who stood to lose everything. Drake shifted his gaze to the calming strength of the hand-hewn limestone blocks which formed his home. Built to withstand the onslaught of time, this house and the ranch had become a part of him. He couldn't give it up, couldn't tolerate another man--or woman--in charge of his ranch. His voice rose as he forked fingers through his hair.
"Look how Uncle Winston ruined that ranch he used to own east of town, before he fenced it and sold it off in parcels. He'd do the same to this one, or worse, curse his ornery hide. Have you forgotten he actually threatened to run sheep on this place? They'd ruin the grazing land plus rile the other cattlemen so much there'd be outright range war. Sheep!”
He gestured to the land sloping to the river before he turned to face his grandfather eye to eye. “But damned if I'll marry some mindless skirt just so I can keep what's rightfully mine from passing into the hands of my useless uncle.”
“You've found a reason to disqualify every woman in Kincaid County and all the counties around," his grandfather snapped, drawing himself up to his full six-foot-five height. "Facts be known, you don't want to settle down and raise a family.”
Drake could not deny the charge, but he refused admit it to his grandfather. Plenty of marriageable women had paraded before him over the years. Some had even dared broach the subject of marriage when he failed to do so.
"I couldn't spare time from building this ranch to play courting games.” He didn't add he had no wish to expose himself to the sorry ordeal he had watched his parents endure. Instead, he tried reasoning with his grandfather.
"How would you have felt if you'd married someone you didn't love before you met Grandma? I don't want to settle for a wrong, or even an almost-right, woman. The true one and only one for me might be waiting just around the next bend.”
He walked a few feet from the shelter of the porch. Dark clouds gathered overhead, darker ones in the southwest. He faced the one spot of morning sun peeping through the thunderheads. The most dangerous storm building around him didn't come from the sky. This silly marriage business could wash out every dream he'd planned to build this to the finest ranch in Texas.
Grandpa followed Drake. "Then, son, you better round that bend and be gol' durned quick about it. If you don't catch you a bride by your thirtieth birthday, everything you've worked for will be gone and be damned. This ranch will revert to your mother's miserly brother, and you'll be looking for a job and a place to live."
"Grandpa, if I haven't found her in almost thirty years, how can I find her in a few weeks?” Desperation tinged his voice and he hated hearing it. He felt as hopeless as he sounded but he faced his grandfather. "Be reasonable, will you?"
Anger flared in the older man's eyes and he used his hat to point at Drake. "Since none of the women of Kincaid County suits you, you'd best look around on your tr
ip east to buy horses. Find yourself a good woman. And, son, you can be damned sure I mean a good woman. Marry her by April tenth.” Grandpa slapped his leg with the large-brimmed hat. "Otherwise, you'll be looking for a new place to live and your uncle Winston or his lackey will be living here.”
Drake refused to lose land he poured his life's blood into for twelve years. "I'm the one who made this ranch into a profitable business.” His voice rose in pitch as his indignation grew. He gestured wildly. "How can you consider taking the ranch from me, your own grandson, your own flesh and blood? I've fought--"
His grandfather interrupted with a roar, "Don't you go bellyachin' about what you've done for this land. You think you're the first Kincaid who had a hard row to hoe?” He gave a derisive snort. "Didn't my own grandfather lose all his family's land in Scotland to the English? Didn't that same man and my father beat those English in the Carolinas to carve out a place for themselves?”
He stepped closer to his grandson and pointed to the ground. "Didn't I help wrench this very piece of land you're standing on from ol' Santa Anna and the Comanches? Even after that we had the devil of a time holdin' on to it through the War, and purt near lost it afterward to that bunch of thievin' carpetbaggers. But we've kept it, by damn, and it’s up to you to continue our fight.”
As long as he could remember, Drake had heard stories of Grandpa's early years in Texas and the struggles he faced. Drake hadn't meant to compare his own struggles with those of Grandpa. Now the man was on a tear and Drake knew better than to interrupt him. But, damn, he had fought hard and long for this ranch too. His own sweat and toil put his brand on this land whether Grandpa agreed or not.
Grandpa's eyes narrowed and pinned Drake where he stood. "That's the way of it, boy. Kincaids fight for what's ours, for our land. But what good is it unless we have sons and daughters to pass that land on to?” He punctuated his remarks by stabbing a gnarled finger at Drake.
No matter how much he loved and respected Grandpa, Drake refused to back down. "Do you think I don't know that? But why does it have to be right now? Why can't it be in my own time? Why can't you bend a little on this?"
Grandpa's voice softened, but he offered no hope. "Believe me, Drake, this is not easy for me. The law is the law, and it's supposed to be impartial. I'm pledged by oath to uphold it for you the same as for anyone else--even that fool Winston.”
He clapped his hat on his head. "Now, I've said as much on this subject as I'm going to.” Grandpa turned and stomped to his horse.
With a swiftness that belied his years he mounted and, half turning in the saddle, shouted, "By April tenth or you lose the whole shootin' match!”
Drake watched his grandfather ride away as if the hounds of hell were in pursuit. All his hopes and dreams seemed doomed to hell as well. Lightning flashed and a great roll of thunder punctuated Grandpa's departure and his own mood.
Pacing, he gave his cousin the brunt of his complaints.
"You know how much time I've devoted to this ranch. How could my own parents, and now Grandpa, hinge all those years and work on this one ridiculous clause? Marry or lose everything to pompous Uncle Winston, a man who cares nothing for ranching. After all, the man lives in Boston!”
Drake clenched his fists. "Winston doesn't give a hoot about the land or its people, only the profit to be made. The man's mean as a snake and twice as crooked. He'd have some manager do all the work for him and pay the hands only a pittance for hard labor.”
"Winston wouldn't have the loyalty of his ranch hands you do, that's for sure. Doubt he'd provide the housing you do or pay them near as well."
"Probably wouldn't even visit the place, durn his blue-blooded, worthless hide."
A grin split Lex's face. "Remember when we first heard the terms of the will? We joked about the marriage clause.”
"I was eighteen. Thirty seemed aeons away. I never dreamed Grandpa would enforce the stupid thing. He even joked with us."
Lex tugged at his ear lobe. "He's sure not laughing now.”
"No, the old man's dead-level serious. And me planning this trip this close to my birthday sure put a burr under his saddle."
Drake stalked to a nearby stand of live oak trees, wondering how best to fight this battle. With the toe of his hand-tooled boot, he worked a rock loose from the soil. The wind buffeted against him in brisk gusts. A gyrating dust devil whirled along wagon road.
He would take his fists to anyone who called him a romantic. Still, he had hoped one day to meet a woman and, well, just know she was the one for him. Evidently, real life didn't work that way. Not his.
"I've told Grandpa I'm perfectly capable of finding a wife for myself--when the right time comes. Now the old man's come up with this hair-brained idea for a bride search. All I want is to look for a few thoroughbred mares. I refuse to be put out to stud like one of my own stallions.”
He scooped up the stone and, with unerring precision, threw the missile to thunk against the trunk of an oak tree. From a branch above the target, a startled squirrel chattered angrily at the intrusion.
"Damn that will, and damn Grandpa's meddling."
* * *
Waiting patiently for his cousin to calm, Lex Tremont shifted his weight against the hitching post. He watched Drake's long fingers work forcefully through his thick hair and marveled no furrows were left in his cousin's scalp.
He sympathized with Drake and wondered about him giving in to their grandfather's edict. Drake and their grandfather were too much alike, each a remarkable man in his own way. Nose to nose a few moments ago, the two looked a picture of the same person at different ages.
Both tall, Drake's black hair hung longer than their grandfather's bushy white mane. But they shared wide shoulders and amazing strength. Drake's eyes were a steel gray to their grandfather's pale blue, but one had only to see them together to know Kincaid blood ran true.
They shared more than looks. The same mile-wide streak of Kincaid stubbornness ran through both men. With a smile, Lex counted himself lucky affable Tremont blood tempered his obstinate Kincaid blood.
Not that he denied his own trace of that stubborn streak. He smiled. No, not stubbornness. In himself, he preferred to think of it as standing firm in the strength of his convictions.
"To be truthful, it was your own father and mother who put that clause in their will. Grandpa's just enforcing it--or reminding you to before we go east.”
Drake turned. "I'm so riled I've let the morning get away from us. We were supposed to be on the road two hours ago. Now we've let a storm catch us. Though if you ask me, a blue norther would be more fitting with this marriage thing hanging over my head.”
Giving his bay mare a pat on the nose and stepping clear of Drake's massive gelding, Lex left the hitching post and strode over to his cousin. "Calm down. A few more minutes' delay won't make a difference. Let's think this through.”
Lex knew his cousin was more intelligent than he was, but Drake's temper sometimes caused his actions to bypass his brain. And that stubborn streak had landed him, and them, in more tight spots than either cared to remember.
"If I have to settle for a wife who's merely suitable, it'll be on my terms," Drake said as his boot worked at another stone. With his chin clamped in anger, his face looked carved from stone as well.
"You heard Grandpa, and you know how stubborn he is.” Good Lord, who would know better, since Drake was exactly the same? "What do you figure on doing?"
Drake answered, "I'm going to do just what that old man asked."
"No.” Lex gave a brief shake of his head and clamped his hat on his head. He adjusted the brim to shield his face. "I know you're too muleheaded to back down so easily."
He tilted his head upward to look closely at the man who topped his six feet by a good five inches. Though Drake now appeared relaxed, Lex recognized the steel behind that look. The little muscle tick at the corner of Drake's mouth gave him away.
"No," Lex repeated. "I know you too well to believe
that. What is it you really have in mind?”
Drake scooped up another rock and hit the same trunk, sending the angry squirrel bounding to the next tree. "He wants me to go east. Find myself a bride. So that's just what I'll do.”
Lex saw anger flash in his cousin's eyes as he faced him.
Drake said, "I give you my word, I intend to find the most disagreeable, the homeliest, absolutely the most unsuitable virgin I can and make her my wife.” Drake spoke with such derision the words seemed a curse. "Let's just see how happy Grandpa is then."
Lex struggled to conceal his shock and tried once again to reason with Drake. "That's cuttin' off your nose to spite your face. This is a wife you're talking about, not a hat or a brood mare. You're goin' to be married to her for a long, long time." He paused as the shock deepened. "Say, you don't plan to run her off or somethin' soon as you're married, do you?”
"Naw, nothing like that.” Drake paused as if in thought, then raised his ornery gaze to his cousin. "If I wanted a wife, it would be different. I don't, especially not like this. Don't have time for one, don't intend to live in the same house with the woman once I marry her.”
Thunder rumbled across the rolling prairie. The approaching storm drove even the angry squirrel to cover. No birds sang or flew overhead. The cattle in the pasture bunched together with their backs to the wind.
Though he denied being superstitious, Lex admitted storms always brought trouble along with the needed moisture--even if it only more work for the ranch hands to calm the stock. The one headed this way looked to be a gully washer.
He gave one last look at the clouds before he stepped toward his cousin and placed a restraining hand on Drake's shoulder to repeat his earlier advice. "Calm down and think this through. How can that meet Grandpa's ultimatum or satisfy the will's conditions?"
Drake affected a shocked expression and clutched his chest. "How could I expect a genteel lady to live the rough life on the ranch anymore than my mother did? She can live in town--with the old man.” He smiled. "Yeah. Let Grandpa see how well he likes having a woman forced on him."
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