Handpicked Husband (Love Inspired Historical) (8 page)

Six hours later, the cabin was closed up and they were headed toward Turnabout.

Reggie watched Adam as he rode ahead of their three-vehicle caravan. His horse was an impressive animal, with a powerful frame and an arrogant demeanor.

Not unlike the man astride him.

She’d give him this much—Adam
did
know how to sit a horse.

Forcefully turning her focus away from Adam Barr’s distracting back, Reggie smiled at the man seated beside her. She had suggested one of her suitors ride with her, so they could get to know each other better. Chance had gallantly stepped forward.

Behind them, Mrs. Peavy rode in the carriage the men had arrived in with her two other suitors. Jack and Ira brought up the rear in the photography wagon. Reggie had made sure the boy was safely insulated from the influence of her less-than-eager suitors.

She flashed Chance a neighborly smile. “So, Mr. Dawson, tell me something about yourself.”

“Please, call me Chance, ma’am.” He shot her a roguish look. “We’re supposed to be friends, remember?”

Was he flirting with her? “Of course, Chance. But you must stop calling me ma’am. It makes me feel so old.”

He flushed at this reference to the difference in their ages, just as she’d figured he would. This would likely be the Achilles’ heel she’d want to attack with him. But would it be enough to make him throw in the towel on this ridiculous scheme?

Chance recovered quickly. “So, what would you like to know?”

She could see Adam from the corner of her eye. What would it be like to question him, to ask whatever she wanted and have him be obliged to answer?

What would she ask?

The carriage bounced over a rut in the road, pulling her attention back to her companion. “Well, for one thing,” she said, gathering her thoughts, “Chance is an unusual name. Is there a story behind it?”

“Actually, Chance isn’t my real name.” He shifted uncomfortably. “My given name is Chauncey, but I never did care for it much. One of my brothers started calling me Chancey as a joke, and it eventually got shortened to Chance.” He shrugged. “I think it suits me better.”

“Oh, you have brothers?”

She caught the barely perceptible stiffening of his spine. Was his family a tender subject with him as well?

“Yes, ma—” He slid her a guilty sideways look. “Um, yes. Four of them.”

“Any sisters?”

He rubbed his neck with his free hand. “No. Just the five of us boys.”

“Just?”
Reggie let out a genuinely wistful sigh. “I always dreamed about having a house full of siblings to play with.”

Chance lifted a brow. “You had a sister, didn’t you? I mean, that’s her son you’re raising.”

“Patricia was my stepsister.” She watched Adam lift his hat and wipe his forehead with his sleeve. The motion stretched his shirt tightly across broad, well-muscled shoulders.

Clearing her throat, she determinedly focused on Chance. “I was three when my father married her mother. Patricia was ten. We grew to be close friends, but not exactly playmates.”

Time to turn the conversation back to him. “I imagine you and your brothers were a rowdy crew when you put your minds to a bit of mischief.”

She’d expected a reminiscent grin. Instead he gave the reins a casual flick. “I was a late arrival. Michael, the closest in age to me, is six years older. I guess that’s something we have in common.”

“So, you’re the baby of the family?” She didn’t give him time to respond to her deliberate barb. “Your mother must have had her hands full keeping up with six men.”

His jaw tightened. “Mother died when I was born.”

“Oh.” Reggie felt a twinge of unwanted empathy, seasoned with a dollop of guilt. She’d touched a nerve again, but this time she wasn’t so pleased with herself. “I’m sorry.”

He flashed her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No need to apologize. It wasn’t your fault.”

It was her turn to shift in her seat. She decided to ignore her protesting conscience and go on the offensive again. “So, tell me, why did you decide to sign on for my grandfather’s matchmaking scheme?”

“Let’s just say my father thought I needed a change of scenery, and I agreed.”

From his tone, it didn’t sound like it had been an amicable parting. “Ready to shed the family traces and strike out on your own, are you?”

“Something like that.”

Reggie pounced again. “Only you’re not striking out on your own. My grandfather is staking you.”

He shot her a level look. “I plan to earn my stake, one way or the other.” He turned his gaze back to the road. “If I don’t end up sharing my earnings with you and Jack, I’ll pay Judge Madison back a bit at a time.”

Now he’d surprised her. “But that wasn’t part of the contract.”

“Doesn’t matter.” The set of his jaw had an uncompromising hardness. “I might accept a generous loan to get started, but I don’t take handouts.”

“I see.” He sounded sincere. This unexpected glimmer of nobility, however, didn’t keep her from pursuing the opening he’d provided. “And that grub stake is in the form of a half-burned saloon building and cash to renovate. Seems a rather
unusual
payment, especially from my grandfather. I wonder why he’d think it suitable?”

Chance didn’t glance away from the road. “You’ll have to ask
him
that question.”

“And do you fancy yourself a saloon owner?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t decided what kind of business I’ll open yet, but I haven’t ruled out a saloon.”

“But that doesn’t answer my question. Is running a saloon something that appeals to you?”

This time he did look at her, and she was surprised by the fire in his expression. “Owning my own business, in a town where no one has ever heard of my father and never met my brothers, appeals to me a great deal.” His voice vibrated with determination.

Then he took a breath. “If that business happens to be a saloon, so be it.” He gave her a mirthless smile. “Believe me, I’ve been inside more than my share of saloons.”

“Have you?” He’d just revealed a great deal about his life. She’d file it away and analyze it later. Right now, she wanted to keep pressing. “And do you think a saloon keeper would make a good father and husband?”

He met her gaze levelly. “That’s for you to decide, isn’t it? Besides, as I said, I haven’t decided yet.”

Chance had more intelligence than she’d given him credit for. “How do you feel about being father to an active six-year-old?”

He shrugged. “Raising kids is more the mother’s job. Of course, I’d teach him the things a father should—like how to hunt and fish, how to defend himself, how to transact business.”

She should have expected an answer like that from someone who’d barely reached manhood himself. “That’s your idea of the involvement a father should have in his child’s upbringing?”

“Oh, I know there’s more to it. I’ll do what’s necessary when, and
if
, the time comes.” Something unreadable flashed in his eyes. “If I become Jack’s stepfather, he won’t ever be made to feel he doesn’t measure up.”

Now
that
was an interesting statement. Reggie was getting a picture of what had turned Chance into such a rebellious, cocky young man.

As if afraid he’d said too much, Chance changed the subject. “Mind if I ask you a few questions of my own?”

“Not at all. I just don’t guarantee I’ll answer them.” As she said the words, Reggie realized Adam had moved alongside them. She deliberately kept her back turned, but the tingling along her nape kept her acutely aware of his presence.

“How’d you end up being a photographer?” Chance asked, recapturing her attention.

“My father was a photographer. One of the finest in Texas. I used to help him when he’d let me. When I was eleven, he purchased a new camera and gave me his old one. After that, you couldn’t hold me back. Then, when Father died, it just seemed natural for me to take over the business.”

She smoothed her skirt. “I couldn’t have done it without Ira, though. He likely knows more about photography equipment than any man alive.”

The tingling on her neck was more pronounced. What was Adam doing? Was he watching them? Her whole body strained to turn and take a quick peek over her shoulder. But she fought the urge, refusing to let him know how aware she was of his presence.

“But why did you bring your equipment
here?
” Chance asked. “There’s no one for miles around except your household, and you could take their pictures back in town if you wanted to.”

Reggie leaned forward. “I don’t just photograph people. I’ve always been fascinated by plants, ever since I first buried a seed and watched it sprout. I’ve read every botany book I could get my hands on, and regularly scour the area looking for new plants to add to my collection.” She gave Chance a self-deprecating smile. “When Father gave me my own camera, I started shooting studies of my finds as a way to both practice photography and preserve the images.”

Those had been some of the happiest days of her life. Her family had still been intact—her father and stepmother still alive, her stepsister, Patricia, not yet married. She’d roamed the woods, delighting in her discoveries, proud when she captured images good enough to earn her father’s praises.

“A few years back I learned about a scientific journal back East specializing in botany. The publishers are willing to pay for quality photographic plates of plants native to this region.”

Reggie paused. She hadn’t intended to do so much talking about herself, especially with Adam listening in. She kept forgetting others didn’t share her passion for this particular merger of art and science.

At least Chance’s eyes hadn’t glazed over. But it was time to turn the conversation back around to her inquisition. “I’m sure that’s more of an explanation than you were after.”

“On the contrary,” Chance said gallantly, “I find it quite fascinating.”

“As do I,” Adam agreed.

So, he was tired of being ignored, was he?

Reggie turned and narrowed her eyes, refusing to be distracted by the incongruous dimple in that uncompromising chin. “Are you in the habit of eavesdropping, Mr. Barr?”

“Just doing my job, ma’am.” At her raised brow, he continued, “Keeping an eye on how things are progressing, that is.”

The man was insufferable. Did he enjoy reminding her of the power he held over her future? “As you can see, things are progressing just fine and dandy. Why, I already feel like I know Mr. Dawson here like an old friend.”

She gave him her most haughty look. “Was there anything else we could do for you?”

He tipped his hat back, apparently unaffected by the lack of warmth in her tone. “Just wanted to check my memory. The road skirts an open meadow about halfway between here and town, doesn’t it?”

Reggie nodded, annoyed that he appeared not to notice he’d just been put in his place.

“Good.” He straightened, leaning back in the saddle. “We’ll stop there to rest the horses for a bit and stretch our legs.”

This time she had to bite her tongue. He seemed to think
he
was in charge of this expedition.

But she believed in choosing her battles carefully. This wasn’t a point worth quibbling over, especially since his plan had merit. She’d save her verbal ammunition for the more important battles she knew were bound to come.

Turning back to Chance, she dismissed Adam from her view.

But not from her thoughts.

Chapter Six

A
dam suppressed a grin at Regina’s would-be snubbing. The woman didn’t acknowledge authority easily. He was surprised he hadn’t gotten more of a rise out of her than he had.

Almost disappointing, really.

He dropped back to inform the other members of the plan to take a break shortly. But his thoughts remained on how vibrant, almost glowing, her voice and manner became when she spoke about her photographic and botanical interests. The woman actually seemed approachable when she didn’t have her back up over something.

Once he’d passed the word along, Adam nudged Trib with his knees, quickly moving forward again. But he didn’t immediately take the lead. Instead, he found himself studying the judge’s granddaughter. Watching how she used her hands when she talked, noticing how she smiled ever so sweetly when she asked one of her more probing questions, observing how she fiddled with collar of her dress when she paused to think through some point.

In life, as in court, it paid to learn as much as possible about your opponent’s “tells,” those little unconscious movements that gave away state of mind.

Not that he necessarily saw Regina Nash as an opponent.

But it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.

* * *

Adam dismounted and dropped the reins to let Trib graze.

He watched as the carriages and the wagon turned off the road into the meadow. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d stepped to the first carriage and offered his hand to help Regina climb down.

She hesitated a split second before placing her hand in his.

Why? Certainly it wasn’t fear—he couldn’t picture this woman afraid of anything. But what did she see when she looked at him?

The man she’d met in her grandfather’s home years ago?

A convicted felon?

Or merely the agent of her grandfather’s manipulations?

Her hand felt so small in his. Not baby-smooth, but gently work-tested and surprisingly firm.

She climbed down with a no-nonsense assurance. A far cry from the awkward schoolgirl hiding in the shadows of her grandfather’s parlor. Who would have believed then that she would grow into this confident, independent-minded woman?

As soon as her feet touched the ground, Regina withdrew her hand. “Thank you,” she said with stiff politeness. Without another word, she turned and headed toward the photography wagon.

Adam watched her walk away, watched how the gentle sway of her hips softened the stiffness of her back, watched the way the sun painted glints of roan in her brown hair, watched the way her whole bearing seemed to radiate energy and purpose.

Then he turned away, his hand still pulsing with the warmth of her touch.

* * *

Reggie smiled as she watched Jack and Buck race across the open ground. Jack had lots of energy to work off after sitting in the wagon for so long. Best to let him get as much exercise as he could before they set off again.

This past week at the cabin had been good for him. For them both. Patricia’s husband hadn’t been a bad father to Jack, but to Reggie’s mind he hadn’t been the most loving one, either.

Lemuel and Patricia were so deeply in love, so wrapped up in each other, that they’d built a bubble around themselves that excluded everyone else. When Jack entered their lives, that bubble had expanded to include him.

But when Patricia died three months later, the bubble burst. It was as if, without Patricia, Lemuel lost all capacity for such gentle emotions. He walled himself off, never really returning to the man he’d been before. Their household in Turnabout had transformed into a somber shell of what it had once been, a perpetual air of mourning hanging over everything, and everyone.

Reggie did what she could to give Jack a mother’s love, but she knew she hadn’t been able to compensate for the indifference of his father. While Lemuel’s death was something she had never wished for or welcomed, now that it had happened, Reggie hoped she could bring more laughter and joy into their household.

Lemuel had been gone four months now, and already she saw changes in Jack. The boy truly mourned the death of the only father he’d ever known. She still saw an occasional sadness in his eyes that nearly broke her heart. But he was more exuberant now, more willing to run and laugh and just plain be a boy, than she’d ever seen from him before.

It would be a different household now.

Or at least that was the plan before her grandfather turned everything upside down.

Some sixth sense, or an indefinable stirring of the air, raised the hairs on her nape, alerting Reggie that someone had stepped up behind her. She didn’t have to turn to discover who stood there. The tingling in her palm hadn’t yet gone away from his earlier touch. His large hands had enveloped hers—assisting, protecting, reassuring.

Her shoulders fluttered in memory.

“I never would’ve pegged that dog as a child’s playmate.” Adam stepped to her side, his gaze following Jack and Buck as hers had.

Had he noticed her involuntary reaction?

“Buck can be fierce when it comes to protecting the family.” She watched Adam from the corner of her eye, trying to assess his mood, his motives for approaching her. “But when it comes to Jack, he’s just an overgrown puppy.”

“So I see.” Adam finally turned his unreadable blue eyes toward her. “Let me ask you something. Now that Jack’s father is gone, don’t you find raising him alone a heavy responsibility? I would think you’d welcome the opportunity to marry a man who was willing to share that burden.”

She rounded on him, her earlier distraction forgotten. “Burden? Jack’s not a burden. And there is absolutely no way I would welcome any man into my life who looked at him that way.”

He held up a hand. “Whoa. That’s not what I meant. Of course you care for him. I only meant that you must feel tied down sometimes.”

Was he trying to convince her to play along with her grandfather’s scheme, or did he really believe what he was saying? “Let me explain something, Mr. Barr. Jack was only three months old when Patricia died and I stepped in to help. I feel like he’s my own son. And a mother doesn’t look at her children as burdens, but as precious gifts from God. A mother puts the interest of her child before her own.”

“Not all mothers.”

Though his tone was matter-of-fact, the words and the sentiment behind them chilled her. He must have dealt with all manner of ugly things in his work as a lawyer.

“All mothers who truly love their children,” she insisted.

Something flickered in his expression, something that made her wonder if this was a more personal matter than she’d assumed. But before she could say anything, he changed the subject. “I came over to let you know Mrs. Peavy’s laying out a small picnic.”

“More frog legs?” she inquired, forcing a light tone.

An answering grin tugged at his lips. “I think she’s going to spare us a repeat of that delicacy. She mentioned something about cheese and berries.”

Reggie nodded. “Thank you. I’ll tell Jack.” She headed across the meadow, trying to remember what she’d heard about Adam’s family.

He’d been raised by his Uncle Phillip, a bachelor. She knew that because Phillip Barr had been her grandfather’s secretary for a great many years.

Other than that, she knew...nothing. What had happened to his parents? Had her words opened old wounds?

Reggie caught Jack’s attention and told him about the picnic. Then she headed back.

Mrs. Peavy and the three suitors-for-pay were setting out the foodstuffs while Ira and Adam watered the horses. The two men were laughing, as if sharing a joke.

So much for worrying about having stepped on his feelings. She turned to Mrs. Peavy. “How can I help?”

“Set that down here,” Mrs. Peavy instructed Mitchell. Then she turned to Reggie. “Would you fetch an extra jug of cider from the wagon? I imagine everyone is good and thirsty after that dusty ride.”

In addition to cheese and blackberries, Mrs. Peavy pulled out a large jar of pickled tomatoes and a loaf of bread. A simple but appetizing spread.

Everett was the first to dig in. Reggie grinned, remembering how little he’d eaten at lunch. He’d barely nibbled on the beans and completely ignored the frog legs, claiming lack of appetite.

Later, as Mrs. Peavy lifted the now much lighter hamper, Reggie waved her away. “I’ll take care of the blanket.”

Before she could lift more than a corner, however, Mitchell stepped forward. “Here, let me help.”

“Thank you, Mr. Parker. If you’ll give it a good shake, I’ll fold it and put it away.”

As Mitchell shook the crumbs and leaves from the blanket, Reggie finally realized what it was about him that bothered her. He seemed the most pleasant of the three men, was unfailingly polite, and was the first to step forward to lend a hand. Yet there was a wall around him, a standoffishness that made one hesitant to approach uninvited.

She offered a smile as he handed her the large cloth. “Thanks. You don’t seem a stranger to domestic chores.”

His expression shuttered immediately. “My wife liked picnics.” With a nod, he turned and walked away.

She’d forgotten he was a widower. How long had his wife been gone? The pain was obviously still raw. But if he hadn’t managed to put the past behind him, why was he looking for another wife?

More to the point, what in the world was such a man doing in this marriage lottery?

Regina folded the blanket, her gaze focused on Mitchell’s stiff back.

Hang it all! She didn’t want to feel sympathy for any of these men. She couldn’t afford to soften toward them, not if she wanted to have any chance of getting out of this fix.

She had to remember what was at stake, had to get the fire burning in her gut again.

Reggie glanced across the meadow toward her grandfather’s sergeant-at-arms, and tilted her chin up.

Pulling the blanket firmly against her chest, she marched toward her quarry.

* * *

Adam heard her approach, but continued grooming Trib, waiting for her to speak.

“Mr. Barr.”

Her tone held a note of challenge, a sound he was becoming familiar with. Straightening, he gave her his full attention. “Yes?”

She planted a fist on her hip. “Thanks to the way you headed out here almost before your train left the station, there’s probably been speculation in town about who you are and why you’re here.”

They’d covered this ground already. “Most likely.”

“Your concern over the notoriety you’ve heaped on my household is truly touching.” Her color rose and her voice took on that caustic edge that signaled he’d riled her again.

He was finding it an entertaining pastime.

“I’ll likely receive more than my usual share of welcome home visits this evening and tomorrow after church.”

He idly slapped the reins against his free hand. “Which I’m certain you’ll deal with admirably.”

She didn’t appear amused. “I aim to try to put the best face I can on a bad situation. Just introducing you to folks at church isn’t enough. So, tomorrow afternoon I’ll host a garden party in my backyard.”

Her eyes flashed with purpose. “This will give everyone a chance to talk to you and ask all the questions that have been simmering since yesterday. They can also see from the get-go what good friends we all are.”

“Fine with me,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm. How far could he push her with his show of unconcern?

“I wasn’t asking for your approval, only your cooperation,” she snapped. Then she took a deep breath. “I’ll introduce you as friends of my grandfather who are looking for investment opportunities. You all have come to Turnabout at his recommendation, and want to look the place over for yourselves.”

“Seems as good a story as any.” It appeared the judge wasn’t the only one in this family who had a knack for planning ahead.

She batted away an errant bumblebee without blinking. “It has the benefit of being the truth, as far as it goes. Remember, it would be best if you four keep to yourselves as much as possible this evening.” She frowned as if she’d just discovered a hitch in her plans. “Are you staying at the hotel or Mrs. Ortolon’s Boardinghouse?”

“The boardinghouse.”

She grimaced. “Eunice Ortolon won’t be bashful about asking questions. And she’s not easily ignored.”

Not unlike another woman he knew. “Don’t concern yourself—we’ll handle it.” He lifted a brow. “Now if there’s nothing else, I need to check Trib’s saddle.”

She glanced at the horse and some of her stiffness eased. “He’s a magnificent animal. Did you bring him with you from Philadelphia?”

Adam was surprised by her softening. He’d expected her to stalk off. “Yes. He was sired by a stallion I owned before—” He caught himself, then pressed forward, refusing to sugarcoat what had happened. “Before I lost everything.”

During those years he’d spent caged in that bleak prison, he’d dreamed of galloping across rolling hills and meadows, with only open ground and endless sky around him. When the judge had paid him for this assignment, Adam had used the money to buy Trib. He hadn’t even considered leaving the animal behind.