Jared (Bachelors And Babies Book 7)

by Charlene Raddon

  "Healy!" Cynara said, seeing her sister on the stairs. "You look so pretty."

  "It's a bit fancy for a family breakfast." Healy paused, more uncertain than ever about the appropriateness of the gown, now that she'd seen everyone's reaction. Cynara wore a smile, but her husband and his brothers gaped at her. Perhaps the dress did not suit her.

  "It might be, just a tad, but we don't mind, and we understand your limited resources." Cynara glanced at her husband and brothers-in-law, giving them a look that caused them to straighten and close their mouths. "Isn't that right, boys?"

  Barclay cleared his throat. "Yes. She does indeed look pretty as a picture." He turned to Jared whose mouth remained open. "Don't you agree, Jared?"

  Jared's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He opened his mouth, shut it again, then said, "Sure, Barc. She's a right handsome woman."

  Handsome? What kind of way was that to describe a female? Healy didn't know what to make of that. Debating whether to return to her room and switch the gown for her old dirty one, she turned half-way around.

  "Where are you going, Healy?" Cynara called out. "Come on down so we can sit and enjoy our breakfast. I had Oysters cook your favorite—crisp fried bacon and eggs with unbroken yokes."

  "You like your bacon crisp too?" Jared asked as he walked over and held out an arm to escort her to the kitchen. The surprise had cleared from his face, but his smile grew tentative. He'd cleaned up since they'd arrived at the ranch. His dark hair shone from a good brushing. She liked how it waved from his center part and curled under at his collar.

  Healy descended the remaining steps and slipped her hand through his arm. He stood at least four inches taller than her, with a slender, muscular body that proved he worked hard. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  "Who is Oysters, by the way?" she asked. "I met him last night and assumed he does the cooking, but no one said if he's family or not."

  Jared nodded. "Been with the family long enough we could almost call him a member. He was like a father to us boys growing up, but—no blood relation."

  He led her to the dining table outside the kitchen and pulled out a chair. She sat down and he slid her under the table edge. "We're not used to eating out here. Normally we sit in the kitchen, but Cynara decided your arrival called for something special."

  "How nice." Healy's eyes showed her appreciation.

  "It is so wonderful to have you here, Healy," Cynara said, as her husband seated her and sat at the head of the table. Chase sat on the far side of Jared and had barely sat down before Oysters hustled in with his wild whiskers and a long apron around his torso at mid-chest. He set a bowl of fried potatoes and a plate of bacon on the table.

  "Be right back with the eggs 'n biscuits." Looking at Healy, he said, "Nice to see you again, ma'am."

  He hurried away, giving Healy no time to respond.

  Jared chuckled. "Oysters can come off a bit odd at first."

  Healy lifted her brows. "Odd? I find him delightfully down to earth and honest."

  "He's that too." Jared picked up the coffee pot on the table and filled their cups, then passed it on.

  "I'll say grace now while we wait for Oysters," Barclay said. They all joined hands and bowed their heads.

  When the prayer ended, Healy glanced around the table at the smiling faces. Cynara had married a big, strong, attractive man from a family of big, strong, good-looking men. To Healy, Jared had the best looks. She adored his thick hair and the way it waved down from its center part. He had nice ears, too, close to his head. His laugh made her smile—full and robust, not thin and insubstantial like Skelly's.

  "Ma," Jared said, "Will you be ready to go home after we eat?"

  Mrs. Givens nodded. She had told Healy to call her Julia, but Healy felt uncomfortable doing it on so short an acquaintance. "That would work fine, son. Thank you for your thoughtfulness."

  Oysters returned with a platter of fried eggs and a basket of biscuits, which he placed by Healy.

  "Dig in, Healy, and pass the plate down," Barclay said.

  She selected two strips of bacon, a spoonful of potatoes, two eggs and a biscuit. As she buttered her bread, Jared picked up the coffee pot and held it above her cup.

  "More?" he asked.

  "Yes, please. The first cup went down so well."

  While he poured, she studied his carved cheekbones, nearly perfect nose minus bumps and scars from being broken, and his wide mouth. She disliked stingy-lipped men, but Jared had full lips that made a woman wonder what it would be like to kiss him.

  "I hope you won't be disappointed in Oyster's potatoes, Healy," Cynara said. "He has his own way of cooking them, so they're not quite like Mama's."

  "I'm sure I'll enjoy everything," Healy answered and spread her napkin over her lap. Her cheeks heated slightly at her recent thoughts. Thank goodness no one could read them.

  Chapter Three

  The fact that Barclay had called a family meeting after breakfast gave Jared an uneasy feeling in his stomach. The sober expression on his brother's face didn't help. He'd made a decision he wanted to share. What kind, and why had he glanced at Jared as if expecting him to object?

  Once everyone found seats in the great room, Barclay stood in front of the fireplace, hands behind his back, feet spread, and cleared his throat. "I did a lot of thinking last night."

  "I can vouch for that," Cynara said. "He barely slept."

  He cleared his throat again. "I've decided, and I hope you'll all see the sense behind it, that Jared and Healy should continue to pass as man and wife, at least in town."

  Healy squirmed and opened her mouth.

  Barclay held up a hand. "Let me finish."

  The worried look on Healy's face didn't fade, but she settled back down. Jared tried not to stare at her. His wife? Healy Givens? Mrs. Jared Givens? It didn't sound half bad, but that didn't mean he would go along with Barclay's rotten plan. Couldn't he see how difficult and awkward it would be? Had he forgotten Jared had future plans that included Melanie—not Healy?

  "From what Healy told us about Skelly Bernard, I believe he's the type of man who would send someone after her, not come himself. Let's say, for some reason, he sends one of his hired ruffians to Montana and the man comes to Cutthroat. He will learn nothing about Ruth Kimbrough." Barclay stopped here and asked, "You did say everyone in St. Louis knew you as Ruth, did you not?"

  "Yes," Healy answered. "I thought it sounded more professional."

  "Good. No one here has heard that name. Is that right too?" He looked at Healy.

  "The only name I used on my trip was Mrs. Givens." Healy sat forward. "One elderly lady on the train asked me my given name and I said Healy. That's the only time I used it, and she stayed on the train when I got off so I'm not likely to run into her."

  "Very good." Barclay nodded, seeming pleased. "So, Skelly's man is not going to get much information in Cutthroat on Ruth Kimbrough. Skelly might send him on to San Francisco, but his search in Montana—if he comes here at all—should be finished. After a few weeks, when no one else shows up looking for Healy, we'll be able to relax, and she can decide what she wants to do. Sound reasonable?"

  Healy put up her hand, glancing nervously at Jared. "Yes. We—Jared and I—won't be expected to share a room, will we?"

  Barclay laughed. Jared wanted to ask what he found so humorous. Jared certainly didn't find it funny.

  "No, of course not, Healy. You'll have no need to pretend to be married here at the ranch, only in town or if someone from town comes visiting."

  "I assume that does not include me," Julia said, sipping her coffee.

  "No, Ma. You're family and already know the truth." Barclay brought his hands around in front of him, and Jared almost expected him to brush them together as if dusting off the remains of that task.

  Chase rose and stretched his back. "I have work to do."

  Ma looked at Jared and asked, "Are you ready to go?"

  "Yeah, Ma."

&n
bsp; Twenty minutes later, he and Ma were on their way to Cutthroat.

  "Jared, stop scowling," Ma said when they reached the town center.

  He scowled. "I don't like the way folks are looking at me."

  Ma laughed. "Silly boy. How do you expect them to look at you after the rumors running rampant all over town?"

  "Melanie probably won't even speak to me," he grumbled, reining in at the hitching post outside Ma's house.

  "The question is," Ma said, "should you be speaking to her?"

  "I have to say something. We had an understanding. Can you imagine what she must be thinking now?"

  "Yes, that you're a two-timing rat. Do you love her, Jared?"

  He hesitated. Did he? Before Healy arrived, he would have said yes. Now, he felt unsure about a lot of things. What did he know of love? He had no idea how to explain his emotions, especially concerning Healy. She annoyed him. Fascinated him. And, ok, blast it, she aroused him.

  Did that mean his feelings for Melanie weren't real?

  What could he say to her anyway, without giving away the secret the entire family worked to guard, and leave Healy open to harm?

  "What is love, Ma? How do you know when that's what you're feeling for a woman?"

  Sitting beside him on the buggy seat, her lips stretched with that serene smile of hers that always made him feel safe and secure. She placed her aged hand on his rugged one. "That's a good question, son. Love is when you care more about the other person than you do about yourself. It's when you can't imagine a life without her. She might irritate the heck out of you, but when you close your eyes at night, she's the one you want next to you. And her face is the first one you want to see in the morning. Does that help?"

  "Yeah, Ma. It helps." Jared winked at her. His ma was a wonder. She always knew what to say. "My pulse goes crazy when I see Melanie. I want to touch her, kiss her, spend time with her." He paused, frowning."I have a feeling you'll say that isn't enough."

  "No, son. It isn't." She winked back. "But it's a good start."

  After unhitching the wagon and brushing and feeding Ma's horse, he untied General from the back of the wagon and rode to Mrs. Henderson's dress shop. Leaving his horse at the hitching post, he opened the store's door. There she stood—Melanie—standing behind the showcase of ribbons, trimmings and fancy laces, helping a customer make up her mind.

  Disappointed when she never looked up at him, Jared waited impatiently for the woman to leave. The instant the door shut behind her, he stepped forward. "Melanie—"

  Still ignoring him, she darted through the door into the back room. He started after her, until he heard the click of the lock.

  Shoot. Stubborn woman.

  Storming out of the shop, he used the alley to reach the rear yard, opened the gate and let himself in to find himself surrounded by Melanie's three yapping dogs. She opened the door. "You dogs shut…" Spying Jared, she began to push the door shut.

  "Oh, no, you don't." Jared grabbed the door, preventing her from closing him out. "That's the only time those hairy mutts have been useful."

  "They aren't mutts, Jared Givens. They're Havanese, a rare and expensive breed."

  "Yes, I know. You've told me before. Look, sweetheart…" He paused and took a deep breath to calm down. "I didn't come here to argue or cause trouble. I just want to talk to you. I know you're upset about the rumor of me being married—"

  "I couldn't care less." She turned away, her nose in the air.

  He sighed. "I can't tell you what's going on, Mel. Can you please just trust me and wait? I promise everything will turn out all right."

  "Why can't you tell me more? What are you talking about?" she asked.

  Mrs. Henderson peeked out and gave him a disgusted look. He pulled Melanie outside and shut the door. The dogs calmed a little but kept jumping up on them.

  "After all the years we've known each other, don't I deserve a little faith and trust?" He shoved a dog off him.

  "I don't know what to say, Jared. I don't understand. What about your wife?"

  "I don't—" He broke off, almost saying he had no wife. "You have to trust me."

  She snorted at that. "You keep saying that. Why should I? Can you tell me that?"

  The dogs took up barking again. Before Jared could think what to say next, Rory Brooks stepped into the yard. "You having a problem, Melanie? You want me to help this cowpoke find the gate?"

  "Stay out of this, Rory," Jared snarled, wishing one of the yappers would bite the man.

  "Why should I?"

  "It's all right, Rory." Before Jared could say another word, Melanie shot through the shop door and the lock clicked into place.

  "Damn you, Rory. Why can't you mind your own business?" Jared demanded. Rearing back his arm, he let go with a blow to Rory's square jaw. Stupid, but it felt good. He and Rory had been at odds with each other since sixth grade when Rory stole his homework and turned it in with his name on it.

  But this Rory had grown up and retaliated by punching Jared in the eye. "Maybe Melanie is my business now. What difference should that make to you? You're married."

  The small yard erupted into chaos with dogs running, leaping and barking everywhere and the two men wrestling each other.

  One of the pups nipped Jared's hand with his sharp little teeth. Jared yelped. Laughing, Rory let go. With a wordless growl and a throbbing jaw and eye, Jared pushed past his old archenemy and strode out the gate.

  As he marched up the street, leaving General at the hitching rail, he thought of every cuss word he knew, muttering them in his head. He picked up the mail, bought a few goods at the general store, and gnawed a strip of buffalo jerky while he backtracked to his horse. The whole time, he ignored the accusing looks folks gave him, as well as the remarks, questions and laughter over his blackening eye.

  Why couldn't Melanie have listened to him? Did he mean nothing to her? Could she really be seeing Rory now? Why, and when did that start? What interest could she have in Rory Brooks, an antagonist who persecuted his enemies and cheated at cards. The man gladly drank any beer someone else paid for, but never spent a dime of his own money. Just thinking of Melanie allowing that man to touch her infuriated Jared. He felt insulted. Maybe he'd been seeing her through rose-colored glasses.

  All right. No marriage for him. He'd grow old alone with nothing but his horse to keep him company and his inventions to keep him sane.

  Healy sat with Cynara in the great room, knitting, when Jared slammed into the house, muttering unintelligibly, and stomped into the kitchen.

  "My gracious." Healy glanced up at her sister. "What do you suppose is up with him?"

  Cynara set her knitting aside. "I don't know. Looked like he had a black eye. I'm going to let Barclay know he might want to check on Jared."

  She rose and went to the office. A moment later, Cynara and Barclay emerged. She reclaimed her seat and he disappeared into the kitchen. Healy's curiosity almost got the better of her. She wanted to follow her brother-in-law but refrained.

  When Barclay came back, he sat down. "Evidently, Jared tried to talk to Melanie today."

  "I feared it might be something like that." Cynara pursed her mouth.

  "You were right, clever lady." He bapped her nose with his finger. "Anyway, he dragged her outside, with her dogs nipping at him the entire time, and then Rory Brooks showed up and punched him. Jared says he landed a few blows of his own but didn't seem to get anywhere with Melanie. He didn't tell her anything, just asked her to trust him. He's confused and upset."

  "Rory Brooks," Cynara exclaimed. "What gave him the right to interfere?"

  "Sounds to me like Melanie's been letting him visit her. Anyway, I wanted you to know, Healy, that you're safe still."Barclay stood. "Back to work for me."

  As soon as the door to his office closed behind him, Healy asked Cynara about Rory.

  "He's the pushy sort who seems to think he's God. Always has." Cynara made a face that pretty much showed her feelings about the man. "Now,
it sounds like he's trying to take Melanie away from Jared. Poor man. I'm sure he's heartbroken."

  "And it's my fault." Instead of resuming her knitting, Healy spent the next few minutes pondering Jared's situation. Melanie must be truly upset to refuse to listen to Jared.

  "Perhaps," Cynara said. "Probably took all of five minutes for the news of his fictional marriage to reach the girl. This is what small towns are like, Healy. Everyone knows everyone's business."

  Pushing her yarn and needles aside, Healy stood and paced the room. "That makes me feel worse than ever about what I did. I need to fix this, Cynara."

  "Why don't I go explain to Melanie whatever I dare to, in the hope that she'll be patient with Jared?" Cynara put her knitting away. "I'm not at all sure what to say. Not the truth, certainly. All I can do is ask her to wait before making any decisions."

  "That would make me feel better, and perhaps Jared too," Healy said.

  "I'll drive the buggy. I do believe I need more yarn." Cynara winked.

  Healy grinned. "Yes. So do I. I assume I must stay here, however."

  "Yes. Now is as good a time as any for me to go. Chase has Vella and the boys are asleep. If I hurry, I can be back in time to feed them. I'll go tell Barclay."

  Cynara stuck her head into Barclay's office and told him her plans.

  His voice reached Healy in the great room. "I'll drive you. I need to see Marshal Vining. I want him to know what's going on so he can keep an eye out for strangers in town."

  "That's a wonderful idea, dear."

  "Please tell me Healy isn't planning to accompany you," he added.

  "No. She knows better."

  He stood and hugged her. "Good. Let's be off then."

  Healy stood on the porch and waved to them, hoping all went well.

  Marshal Vining slid his booted feet off the desk and planted them on the floor. "Afternoon, Barclay. What brings you to town?"

  "I wanted to tell you about a little problem that may crop up regarding my wife's sister who just arrived in town," he said, sitting down.