Dare-Devil Daisy (Mail Order Brides Rescue Series Book 5)

by Jo Grafford

  Daisy reached inside the yards of white lace billowing around her throat and withdrew a diamond necklace. “I think I know what they were looking for. This.” She raised the necklace higher. The sunlight glinted like white fire off the expertly cut facets of stone.

  Prescott clenched his jaw. As the part owner of a yellow diamond mine on the outskirts of Headstone, he was something of an expert on fine gems. And his well-trained eye told him these were the real thing. The main pendent weighed a jaw-dropping twenty karats or more, and the surrounding stones weighed anywhere from four to seven karats apiece. They circled the entire chain and disappeared beneath her cascade of hair.

  “Where did you get that?” he demanded.

  She tucked it carefully beneath her clothing once more. “From my family’s safe deposit box at the bank. It’s mine.” Her face paled. “Or was until my father gambled it away.” She rounded on Prescott. “Think what you will of me, but he had no right to gamble away what was mine. No right at all! It’s the last memento I have of my mother, and I’ve no intention of handing it over without a fight.” She crossed her arms and treated him to a stubborn scowl.

  All power of speech escaped him as every preconceived notion about Daisy Danvers flew from his head. So much for assuming she was the spoiled offspring of some blue blood family with Old World wealth! No one could fabricate the hurt and betrayal mirrored in her eyes as she stood before him. Her sassy speech from earlier was merely false bravado. She was vulnerable and on the run from demons that stretched from Headstone to Boston. And, unless he was mistaken, she was very much afraid.

  “Please, please assure me you’re not one of them,” she begged softly with her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

  He frowned. “One of whom?”

  “Them.” She gave a little stomp in the dust. “One of the train robbers.”

  His brows shot up as disbelief and disappointment filled his mouth. Good gravy! All he’d done so far was promise her dearest friend a favor he had no wish to grant, then prevent her from being robbed. He wasn’t the villain here, yet that didn’t erase the suspicion from her eyes.

  Hardly believing what he was doing, he unstrapped one of the pistols from his side and handed it to her, butt facing upward. “Here. Pray assure me you know how to shoot.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the gun he offered. “You expect me to carry that…thing?”

  “You’re afraid.” He scanned her pale features. “Figured it might make you feel safer.”

  Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks. “It’s a good thought, but I’m more likely to do myself harm as anything else,” she confessed in a small voice. “The only time I’ve ever had to defend myself was in fencing practice.”

  “Fencing?” He snorted, gave the pistol a twirl, and returned it to its holster. It was a foolish gentlemen’s sport from days gone by. Any man worth his spit owned a gun these days.

  “With a blunt foil, of course.” She glanced away. “That’s all Father would allow. He didn’t want me getting hurt.”

  He could only assume this was the same father who’d gambled away her necklace. An intense burst of indignation and sympathy helped him decide what to say next. “I could teach you to shoot.”

  She wrinkled her brow at him. “Why would you do that?”

  He rolled his eyes and gestured at the empty mountain courtyard. It was like looking at a skeleton. All that remained of his father’s former herb gardens were a few stakes in the ground and a handful of tumbleweeds blowing past. “I’ve plenty of time on my hands and nothing better to do.”

  She kicked at a loose pebble. “Shouldn’t we be getting back?”

  If she’d asked that an hour ago, he would have said, “Yes.” He would have ridden her straight to the train station and bought her a ticket to Boston himself. But no longer. From his standpoint, she had nothing to go back to. Her father was weak and incapable of protecting her, and she had dangerous criminals in pursuit of her. She was much safer at his side. For now, at least.

  He caught her gaze and held it steady for several long, silent moments. “I think it would be prudent to take a detour back to town.”

  She shifted from one foot to the other. “What kind of detour?”

  “I’d like to take you through a little town called Rattlesnake Junction.”

  She chuckled and uncurled her arms from their pretzel knot. “You just made that up.”

  “Not at all.” A clap of thunder made them both jump and glance upwards. “It’s a shady little town without any official law enforcement in residence. Most passers-by skirt their way around it because of its name. Most everyone else stays away because of its reputation.”

  “Yet you want to take me there.”

  “I do, Miss Daisy Danvers, for one reason. Well, two.” He lifted one finger. “They have a telegraph office, so we can send a message to Meg, my brothers, the sheriff, and anyone else you desire to communicate with in Headstone before your return.” He lifted a second finger. “They host a rodeo every Friday night with a cash pot. Since that necklace you’re wearing around your neck won’t spend too well, you’re going to need some cash to get by on in the coming days.”

  Her blue eyes widened in astonishment. “Why would you help me?” There was a note of suspicion in her voice.

  He waved a hand in disdain. “How many times do I have to tell you that Meg and Shad Nicholson are my friends? Besides, I promised Meg I would…” He paused without finishing his sentence. This probably wasn’t the best time to remind her he’d been asked to look after her wellbeing.

  Daisy tapped the toe of her boot. “And how might a cowboy go about winning this cash pot you speak of?”

  He grinned. The conversation was back on safe ground for him. “In the bull riding event, of course. The bets will be high, especially after they see my name on the docket.”

  “That’s what you are? A bull rider?” Daisy looked vastly interested. “And not a very humble one, at that, I might add.”

  Huh? He had no reason to be humble. He couldn’t remember the last time he lost an event. His name was a legend on the rodeo circuit. “Afraid so, darlin’,” he drawled. “Errand boy, bull rider, and a man who refuses to wear gloves. That about sums up Prescott Barra.” That is, if he left off the part about owning a share in the yellow diamond mine at Hope’s Landing…

  Another rumble of thunder had Prescott tightening his hands on Wildfire’s reins. “We should head inside for a bit. Wait this thing out.”

  “Inside?” Daisy gave a nervous chuckle.

  He nodded towards an opening in the rock on the opposite side of the courtyard. “Old Mack built a sturdy little cabin on the other side of that wall. Let’s go see how well she’s holding up.”

  With a nod, Daisy followed him. A blast of lightning made Wildfire whinny and paw at the ground. “Just a little farther,” he assured, patting her neck. There wasn’t much in the way of food up here, but he could pump some fresh mountain water from his father’s well.

  To his immense relief, Old Mack’s cabin was in much the same shape he’d left it in. Most of the furniture was gone, and a few spiders had taken residence in the corners, but it would provide them with shelter from the coming storm.

  Only seconds after he led Wildfire and Daisy inside, the sky opened up. Rain and hail pelted down with vengeance. The heaviest fury of the storm only lasted a few minutes, but it was enough to litter the mountain clearing with balls of ice.

  Instead of sitting in the chair Prescott indicated, Daisy watched from the open window of the cabin, elbows resting on the sill.

  He came to stand behind her. “Ice balls would make great targets. That is, if you’re up to a shooting lesson.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, pursing her lips in contemplation.

  The thought entered his mind that all he needed to do was lower his head another few inches to capture her mouth with his.

  Their gazes clashed. She flushed prettily and was the first to look away
. Facing the window once more, she held out her hand. “I’ve always been a quick learner.”

  “Good.” He reached for his pistol and slapped it into her palm, careful to guide the muzzle away from them. Without asking for permission, he encircled her with his arms and cradled her hands around the weapon. “Hold it up like this. Use your forefinger to steady the barrel.”

  He liked how her hair smelled and how perfectly she fit in his embrace. He liked her sass, her sense of adventure, her fearless actions in the face of danger. Dare-Devil Daisy was a woman to be reckoned with. Had he been in the market for a bride like his brothers, she was the exact kind of woman he’d be looking for.

  “Now squeeze the trigger.” He didn’t realize his arms had tightened until she gave a muffled sound of protest.

  “I need a little room to breathe, Press.”

  Press. There was that nickname of hers for him again. He loosened his arms, and she squeezed the trigger.

  An ice ball in the middle of the clearing shattered, making shards fly.

  “I did it, Press! I did it!” she cried, spinning around to face him.

  Since his hands were still cradled around hers, it was no problem keeping the muzzle pointed up. But he didn’t want to risk an accident, so he quickly re-holstered the gun.

  “That you did, darlin’.” He grinned indulgently down at her, proud of her bravery and sense of adventure. Most women would have wept buckets earlier at the sight of the rattlesnake, but not his Daisy.

  My Daisy. His brain latched on to the words and held them like precious gems as the woman in question stretched to her tiptoes.

  “Press,” she breathed and brushed her mouth against his.

  Chapter 5: Compromised

  Daisy

  Prescott’s lips weren’t near as hard as she’d imagined they’d be. They were, however, a lot more demanding and possessive. For a man she’d just met, they were also rather cherishing in a roughly tender sort of way.

  It wasn’t her first kiss, but it was by far her best one. Prescott kissed like he knew what he was doing, a thought that should have scandalized her. Instead, it excited her.

  “Does this mean I’m thoroughly compromised now?” she asked huskily between kisses.

  “It’s entirely up to you, darlin’,” he assured, kissing her again. “I won’t tell unless you want me to.” Somehow, in the flurry of their kissing, his Stetson had gotten knocked to the ground.

  She found his words oddly disappointing, and they served to greatly dampen her ardor. She lowered herself from her tiptoes, while keeping her arms twined around his neck. “So kissing me means nothing to you?” For some reason, the notion made her want to weep.

  “I didn’t say that.” He scowled down at her. “Why are you forever twisting my words, woman?”

  She pulled a snippet of the hair laying against his neck. “You are the most irritating man I’ve ever met.”

  “Funny,” he growled. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

  She yanked on his hair again. “You rescue me like a real hero, then tell me you’re affianced to someone else. You kiss me like Romeo, then promise we’ll never speak of it again. I cannot figure you out, cowboy. What do you want from me?”

  He tapped her nose before responding. “If you insist on knowing, I started out my morning overseeing a paint job at the Nicholson’s ranch.”

  “A paint job?” Incredulity twisted her features. “I thought you said you were a bull rider.”

  “Bull riders do more than ride bulls,” he snapped. “We also breathe air, eat, and sleep.”

  She sniffed. “You’re being irritating again.”

  “Yes, well, you never stopped, either.”

  She swallowed a chuckle, loving how he always had a comeback. Most folks back home avoided her when she was in this kind of mood. Her father, their servants, the belles of high society who pretended to be her friends while reveling in the doors that opened to them by mere association with her family name…

  “I didn’t know you existed before this morning.” A frown of seriousness wrinkled his brow. “That was when Meg begged me to meet you at the train station. She wanted me to protect you from—”

  “Myself. So you’ve already stated, my gallant knight,” she sighed.

  “Technically,” he corrected, “she wanted me to protect you from any unwanted suitors until you made up your mind to return to Boston where you belong.”

  No. You’re wrong. Meg wants me here. His insistence that Meg wanted him to play nursemaid until she ran screaming back to Boston made no sense whatsoever. Meg knew her too well, enough to know she didn’t scare easily. Meg also knew about her desperately spiraling home life, about her father’s gambling problems, and that it was only a matter of time before the Danvers were utterly bankrupt.

  “I’m never going back,” she informed him coolly. “I’ll get a job if I have to.”

  He arched a brow at her and hitched her closer. His large hands still circled her waist. “Is that so, Miss Daisy? Whatever will you do?”

  She tossed her head. “I can cook. I can fence. I have a head for numbers.” At his doubtful expression, she adopted a taunting smile. “I’ve also been told I have an engaging personality. Excellent people skills.” She raised herself on her tiptoes once more. “I’ve additionally been told I have a way of getting under a certain someone’s skin.” She brushed her mouth against his and was delighted when his lips parted.

  Instead of returning her kiss, however, he gripped her waist more firmly and set her aside.

  “What are you doing?” He wanted to kiss her again as badly as she wanted to kiss him. She was sure of it. “Where are you going?” She stared after him as he stomped outside. It was no longer hailing, but a light rain still misted down. She returned to leaning against the window sill in order to watch him.

  The rain dampened his dark hair and glistened off his angular cheeks and square chin. He came to stand just outside the window. Propping his hands on either side of the frame, he informed her, “You’re not thoroughly compromised yet, but you will be if you keep kissing me like that.”

  Her heart leaped at the flirtatious light in his dark eyes. “Does this wall between us make you feel safer, cowboy?”

  “Believe me, it’s to keep you safe, darlin’.” His voice dropped to a deep baritone. “From me.” He leaned through the window to fasten his mouth on hers once more.

  When her lips parted in surprise, he drank her in — deeply. He kissed her until her knees were ready to collapse beneath her. This time, she was the one to break off the kiss.

  “Are you alright?” he asked quietly, studying her with an intensity that made her tremble in her boots.

  “No,” she whispered back. She knew she would never be the same again. Her life was now, and forever would be, divided into two distinct segments — the time before she’d met Prescott Barra and the time after.

  “You will be,” he assured with a wink. With that, he turned away from the window.

  He returned several minutes later with two buckets of water. One he gave to his horse. The other he handed to her. “You’ll find a few odds and ends in the cabinet over the sink.” He pointed across the room. “Drink up, princess. I’m off to hunt down our dinner.”

  By hunting down their dinner, he meant exactly what he said. He returned an hour later with a pair of jackrabbits.

  Daisy stared in stunned silence while he remained outdoors and proceeded to skin them with his bare hands. It very much appeared as if he also intended to cook them and eat them. Hating her feelings of helplessness, she wandered back inside the cabin to explore the remnants of his father’s past life on the mountain. She opened and shut every cabinet and drawer in the room. To her delight, she discovered a box of matches.

  Knowing Prescott viewed her as a nuisance made her exponentially more anxious to prove herself useful. Without speaking a word, she sailed past him outside, grateful that the rain had finally stopped. The mountain retreat covered
less than an acre, so it didn’t take long to gather what she was looking for. She returned with two armfuls of kindling. A circle of stones in front of Old Mack’s cabin was likely the spot where he’d cooked most of his meals. It was complete with a rickety looking turnstile that she hoped was still functional.

  Carefully stacking the kindling beneath it, she lit a snarl of tumbleweed and coaxed the flames to life.

  “Not bad for a city girl.”

  Daisy darted a startled glance up at Prescott. So lost had she been in her own thoughts, she hadn’t heard him rise and walk over to her.

  He squatted next to her and placed the freshly skinned meat on the spit. “I’ll leave these two unfortunate fellows in your care, while I go clean up.”

  Pleased that he trusted her enough to manage a cooking fire, she nodded without smiling. After he disappeared from view, she grabbed a stick and dug up a few onions she’d noticed earlier growing wild around the courtyard. Using a bowl and spoon from the cabin, she ground them into a pasty marinade and basted them on the rabbits as she turned them.

  By the time Prescott returned, the meat was smoked and basted to golden brown perfection.

  “What smells so good?” He crouched down beside her and sniffed in appreciation. His stomach growled, making them both laugh.

  “Wild onions.” She waved the fistful of green stems at him she’d previously discarded.

  He nodded approvingly. “You’re very resourceful.”

  “For a city girl.” She mimicked his words and tone from earlier.

  They passed the rest of the evening trying to outdo each other with wild tales from their past.

  “Our father refused to leave this mountain for years after our mother died.” His belly full, Prescott flopped back against the sandy earth to enjoy a bird’s-eye view of the fading sun. “We jumped a claim on an abandoned homestead in Headstone and finished raising ourselves.”