Oklahoma Wedding Bells

Muriel tilted her head in a manner that instantly reminded him of the witch-angel that went by the name of Josephine. “We will stake adjoining claims so we can watch each other’s backs.”

“Right,” Sol said, and snorted caustically. “Just like you were there to help Josephine fend off Kane tonight.”

Muriel bit her lip and wrung her hands some more. “Next time I won’t leave her alone.”

“You just did,” Sol reminded her with a stern glance. “I recommend you both become handy with pistols. Stabbing claim jumpers with sewing needles might not be discouragement enough.”

When he turned around to walk off, Muriel called after him. “You will ask the captain for me, won’t you?”

Sol halted, then frowned contemplatively. A wicked grin creased his lips when a thought occurred to him. He pivoted to face the attractive brunette. “I will square it with Holbrook if, and only if, you’ll accept my stipulation,” he stated.

Muriel eyed him warily. “What is your stipulation?”

“You can’t tell Josephine that I know when you two plan to terminate these engagements.”

“But she’s my friend and I—”

Sol made a slashing gesture with his hand to silence her. “That is the condition. Take it or leave it.”

Muriel blew out an exasperated breath, then tapped her foot in irritation.

“Well?” he prompted impatiently. “I propose for you, and you don’t tell Josie what I know. Otherwise, the deal is off. Decide.”

The brunette steamed and stewed for a full minute, then nodded her head in a way that conveyed her annoyance with him. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Tremain.”

“I’m a horse trader. It’s what I do,” he teased, straight-faced.

“Very well, then, since you leave me with little choice,” she said begrudgingly. “But I want it understood that it goes against my grain to keep secrets from my best friend.”

“Duly noted,” Sol replied with a slight inclination of his head.

After Muriel stamped off, he wheeled away. In this, at least, he planned to remain one step ahead of that clever minx who had drawn him into her scheme.

He and Grant would become the envy—and perhaps objects of vicious retaliation—of rejected suitors. Suddenly, Sol wondered if this might become the engagement from hell, after all, considering the feisty temperament of his supposed fiancée and the irritation of her legion of jilted beaus.

Luckily, he and Grant could roast over the same bonfire. He’d always heard that misery loved company.

Guess he was about to find out.

When Sol strode into the commander’s office at the garrison, Grant was bent over the daily report, studiously jotting down information. He glanced up, clearly surprised to see Sol.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going to snoop around the camp where Bradley pitched his tent.”

“I decided to swing by Josie and Muriel’s camp to sell a few horses before I headed north,” Sol explained. “Good thing I did. A drunken cowboy that I recognized as one of the gunmen at the Saddle Burr Saloon this morning was attacking Josie.”

Had it just been this morning? Damn, another long day.

“What?” Grant croaked in dismay. “Is she all right? Was Muriel attacked, too?”

Hmmm … Funny that you should ask, thought Sol. “No, she didn’t make the same mistake, of tramping off alone to tend to her horse. Fortunately, I arrived to intervene before the bastard could do his worst and Josephine lost more than her temper.” Sol cast aside the unpleasant memory of seeing the scoundrel force himself on her. “I brought Harlan Kane here so you can toss him in the stockade. I figured if I took him to town, his boss might try to bail