Short Straw Bride

Cora Danvers suggested that they’d come to repent their sins in the eyes of the Lord. But no one who looked at either McLain—and everyone was looking at them—could give much credence to that theory. Neither of them looked as if they felt the need for repentance. There was too much confidence in the way they moved, too much arrogance in the way they carried themselves.

Perhaps they were lonely, Millie Peters said. After all, they were orphans, alone and without family. Her soft blue eyes teared up at the thought, her plump face crumpling in sympathy, and Eleanor had no doubt that Millie would try to take the McLains under her wing. But they didn’t look as though they needed Millie’s wing, nor anyone else’s, for that matter.

She’d never actually seen either Luke or Daniel McLain but, like most people in Black Dog, she knew who they were. They owned the largest ranch in the area, a ranch their father had begun and that they’d continued to build after his death. Their patronage kept half the businesses in town in the black. She knew Mr. Webb’s store depended in large part on orders from the Bar-M-Bar.

But she wasn’t thinking about Andrew Webb as she watched the brothers talk to Reverend Mulligan. Though there was a strong resemblance between them, it was the taller of the two who drew her eyes. He looked dangerous, she thought, studying his profile. A strong chin, an almost hawkish nose, his hair brushing the collar of his conservatively cut black coat—there was something just a little untamed about him. And the gun that rested so snugly on his hip completed the image. Not that he was the only man wearing a gun—this was still a wild land in many ways, after all, and most men went armed. It wasn’t the presence of the gun but the ease with which he wore it that was just a little shocking.

As if sensing her gaze, he turned his head abruptly and their eyes met across the packed dirt of the churchyard. He was too far away for her to see the color of his eyes but she felt the impact of that look all the way to her toes. She knew she should look away, that it wasn’t ladylike to stare, but she couldn’t drag her gaze from his.

“Stop staring like a cheap tart. Try to at least pretend you’re a lady,” Dorinda Williams hissed in her ear. Eleanor gasped as her aunt’s fingers found the tender flesh on the back of her arm in a vicious pinch. She lowered her lashes to conceal quick tears of pain. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Anabel smile with pleasure and had to restrain a most unladylike urge to slap her smug pink-and-white face.

“What I’ve got in mind is a gentle girl, one who won’t be too demanding,” Luke said. “I’ve got enough on my hands with the ranch work. I don’t want a wife who expects me to dance attendance on her.”

Sean Mulligan had known Luke and Daniel since the family had first moved to Black Dog after the war. He’d been a friend of their father’s, and he’d often thought that Robert McLain would have been proud of the way his sons had kept the ranch going after his death, fulfilling his dream. He was fond of both boys—men, he corrected himself, looking up at the two of them. He’d been pleased to see them in his church this morning, but his pleasure had rapidly changed to dismay as he’d listened to Luke coolly outline his plan to find a wife.

“I don’t want to waste a lot of time,” Luke was saying now. “Spring’s a busy time, what with calving and all.”

“Finding a wife isn’t like buying a horse, Luke,” Sean protested.

“Buying a horse would be a damn sight easier,” Daniel put in, grinning at his older brother. “Just check the bloodlines, look at the teeth, take it for a ride and you know what you’re getting. Too bad you can’t do the same with a woman.”

“Well, you can’t,” Sean snapped. He dabbed at the beads of sweat on his forehead. The mild spring sunshine suddenly felt uncomfortably warm.

“It can’t be that hard, Sean,” Luke said, looking impatient. “People get married all the time.”

“Yes, but they generally spend some time getting to know one another. They court. A man doesn’t just pick out a bride like…like…”

“Like picking out a horse?” Daniel supplied helpfully.

“Exactly.”

“I don’t have time for courting, and we can get to know each other after the wedding. As long as she doesn’t have a temper like a wolverine or a face like a mud fence, we’ll do fine. I need a wife, not a best friend.”

“But…” Sean sputtered and dabbed the handkerchief frantically over his forehead. How could he explain the impossibility of what Luke wanted?

“There must be some unmarried females in town,” Luke said, his eyes skimming the crowd, unconcerned with the interest he was receiving in return.

“Yes,” Sean admitted cautiously.

“What about the redhead in the blue dress?” Luke asked, narrowing his eyes on the statuesque girl.

“Dorcus O’Hara,” Sean supplied, following Luke’s gaze. Sensing their gaze on her, the girl lifted her chin. “I don’t think she’s what you have in mind, Luke. Dorcus is a bit, er, high strung,” he said delicately.

“Temper like a hungry grizzly?” Daniel asked shrewdly.

“Well, er, yes,” Sean admitted, sighing.

“What about the little one with the brown hair? The one wearing the blue dress and the ugly hat?”

“Eleanor Williams.” Sean’s pale blue eyes widened in surprise.

“She taken?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Ain’t much to her,” Daniel commented. “What about the yellow-haired one next to her?”

“That’s her cousin, Anabel.”

“Too narrow between the eyes,” Luke said critically. “Reminds me of that mule we had in Virginia, the one that’d try to bite anything came within reach.”

Sean choked on swallowed laughter, trying to imagine Anabel Williams’s reaction to hearing herself compared to a bad-tempered mule.

“Why don’t you introduce me to a few possibilities?” Luke asked his father’s old friend.

Eleanor watched discreetly as Reverend Mulligan began introducing the McLains around. Her eyes lingered on the taller one and she felt her heart beat a little faster when he smiled at something his brother said. His teeth gleamed white against his tanned features and she thought she’d never seen a man even half as handsome.

“I’d hoped to see you today, Miss Williams.” Andrew Webb stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Reverend Mulligan and his companions. She’d been so wrapped up in watching the McLains that she hadn’t even been aware of him greeting her aunt and uncle.

“Mr. Webb.” She smiled at him and resisted the urge to try to peer around him to see where the McLains were.

“You look very pretty today, Miss Williams, if you don’t mind my saying so.” Andrew flushed a little at his boldness.

“Thank you, Mr. Webb.” He was lying through his teeth, of course. His crooked teeth, she added when he smiled. The powder blue dress she wore was a remade castoff of Anabel’s, and neither the color nor the style suited her. Not to mention the appallingly ugly hat Aunt Dorinda had purchased for her the week before. The brim dripped with ribbon roses and fat bows and made her look like an overdressed mushroom.

“I knew that hat would look a picture on you.”

“This hat?” Eleanor lifted her hand to touch the despised headgear, her attention fully on Andrew for the first time. “Aunt Dorinda bought it from you?”

“Yes.” Andrew smiled happily. “As soon as I saw it, I thought of you.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” His smile widened. “I’m so glad to see you like it.”

“It’s…lovely,” Eleanor said weakly. It was also the only hat she owned, at least until she could refurbish last year’s bonnet. The tattered condition of that item was the only reason she’d forced herself to don the hat at all.

“I’ve often thought it remarkable how close one can feel to someone with whom one shares one’s tastes, even in such small and unimportant things as styles of dress,” Andrew said, his watery blue eyes focused intently on her face.

Eleanor stared at him, groping for an appropriate reply. Should she admit, right up front, that she despised the hat in question? If she did, would that end the possibility of Mr. Webb being a suitor for her hand? Did she care? To her relief, she was saved the necessity of a reply by Reverend Mulligan’s arrival.

“Zeb, I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine. This is Luke McLain and his brother, Daniel. Mr. and Mrs. Williams.”

Andrew Webb was instantly forgotten. Eleanor felt her pulse suddenly beating much too fast in the base of her throat. Luke McLain. She rolled the name around in her mind and decided that she’d never heard one she liked more.

“We’ve already met,” Uncle Zeb was saying as he shook hands with both men. “Dealings with the bank, of course. Haven’t seen either of you in quite a while. How’d your place come through the winter? Did you lose much stock?” He looked ready to settle into a lengthy discussion of ranching but a subtle nudge from his wife reminded him of his duties. “Oh, excuse me. Allow me to introduce my wife, Dorinda. And my daughter, Anabel,” he said, pride evident in both voice and expression.

“Miss Williams.” Luke smiled at Anabel, and Eleanor felt something close to despair. No doubt he’d be dazzled by Anabel’s pale beauty, just as every other man was.