Whirlwind Bride

“Yes,” she answered a touch impatiently.

Reaching under the seat, he pulled out a blanket. He shook out the dust, then refolded it and handed it to her.

“Thank you.” Looking surprised, she gave him a grateful smile.

She was a dandy, sleekly curved just like a Thoroughbred. Her creamy skin begged a man to touch it, see if it was as soft as it looked. Her eyes reflected every emotion like a pool of clear water.

Hell. He pulled himself into the wagon and picked up the reins. Adam knew Riley would never marry again, certainly not a lady who probably couldn’t even lift a full bucket of water on her own. It took a special breed of woman to live here. Even those who could didn’t always survive. Riley’s own mother had been strong, had birthed two big sons, but she had died in her sleep two years ago. Her heart had just given out.

His father, Ben, had passed last year, still grieving for Lorelai Holt. He’d built her this ridiculously fine house in the middle of the plains, and she’d lived in it less than three years.

Already Susannah’s magnolia skin had reddened under the October sun and she looked about to wilt. Riley would take her to town, wire Adam to let him know his plan hadn’t worked. Whatever that plan was.

Riley clucked to the horse and slid a sideways glance at Susannah. She sat straight and stiff as a rod next to him, her skirts pressed as tight to her as she could get them. Her other hand, white-knuckled, gripped the seat.

“Adam’s been known to play a practical joke, but never anything like this.”

She murmured something incoherent.

“Why do you think he did it?”

She glanced over, a sudden wariness sliding into her blue eyes. “I guess he had his reasons.”

And she knew what they were, the little baggage! Riley knew by the set of her jaw as she turned away that she wasn’t going to tell him. He resented the flicker of admiration he felt at the sight of a little backbone. Little sister could keep Adam’s secrets. Riley would get his answers soon enough.

The silence between them swelled. She looked uncomfortable and color rode high on her finely honed cheekbones.

“Peppermint?” He offered her a short stick of the candy, fresh from his shirt pocket.

Her gaze dipped to his hand, lingered on the sweet. “No, thank you.”

He nodded and popped the candy into his mouth. He understood her embarrassment. Adam had put them both in an awkward position.

They rode with only the noise of creaking wagon wheels and cawing crows until he topped a hill and saw Whirlwind sprawled out in front of him in its neat T-shaped layout. To the northeast, about eight miles from town, sat Fort Greer.

“Where should I take you? Do you have a place to stay? I can get you a stage ticket to Abilene, so you can catch the train back to St. Louis.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He slid her a look. “I’ll take you to the Whirlwind Hotel. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean.”

And Riley would pay for her room. He told himself that should’ve eased his conscience. He was doing what he could, what he should. She certainly couldn’t stay with him at the Rocking H, not without a chaperon.

A hammer rang against metal as they approached a barnlike building at the edge of town, and Riley lifted a hand in greeting as he drove past Ef Gerard’s blacksmith shop. The burly man, with muscles bulging in his glistening, thick black arms, returned the wave. Blatant curiosity burned in his coffee-colored eyes as he caught sight of Susannah.

Being a Friday afternoon, the town was still relatively quiet. There was no activity outside the livery or the saloon right across the street. Cowboys from nearby ranches or passing cattle drives would change that in a few short hours. They would come to town to spend their pay on whiskey and women, but Susannah would be safe inside the hotel.

Businesses lined both sides of the double-wagon-width main street, with the church-cum-schoolhouse crowning the center point of the T, a north-south street aptly named North. Homes were scattered on either side of the steepled frame building. As his wagon ambled up Whirlwind’s main thoroughfare, Riley caught sight of his brother, Davis Lee Holt, in the sheriff’s office. Good. Riley wanted to talk to him.

The mare plodded past Pearl Anderson’s restaurant, the Pearl, then the telegraph office, which also served as the post office. Across the street, Haskell’s General Store was doing a brisk business. On the same side as the saloon, the store was flanked by the newly opened Prairie Caller newspaper on one side and Cal Doyle’s law office on the other. A neat, tidy frame building on the corner was home to the other Doyle brother, Jed, a gunsmith.

Easing the wagon to a stop in front of the hotel, Riley set the brake and looped the reins around the handle.

Susannah reached into her reticule and offered him a silver dollar. “Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it.”

Immediately indignant, he growled, “Put that away.”

“But—”

“I won’t take your money,” he said evenly, not liking the way she made him feel like a hired hand.

Irritation zipping through him, he hopped down and started around to help her down.

“Miz Phelps!”

Riley rounded the back of the wagon, halting when he saw J. T. and Matt Baldwin standing next to the wagon, both offering a hand up to Susannah.

She smiled, erasing all fatigue from her face. “Hello, Mr. Baldwin, Matthew. How nice to see you again.”

The warmth in her greeting to father and son stirred something deep inside Riley, and he felt an unfamiliar heat charge through his chest.

The elder Baldwin elbowed his son aside. “Let me help you down, Miz Phelps. You boys get her luggage.”

Russ Baldwin appeared suddenly beside his brother. While their father handed her down, the Baldwin brothers moved toward Riley and reached for the trunks in the back of the wagon.

All three Baldwins easily had three to four inches on Riley’s six-foot height. Their broad shoulders and massive thighs made them the biggest men around; one or another of them won the arm-wrestling match every year during the Fourth of July picnic. But they were known to be gentlemen in every sense of the word. Riley had always liked them.

The Baldwin men were more than capable, but shouldn’t he be the one responsible for making sure Susannah was settled?

J.T. deposited her beneath the hotel’s green awning as carefully as if she were blown glass.

“You’ve already had your visit with Riley?” Matt stepped onto the boardwalk, balancing a trunk on his massive shoulder.

She didn’t so much as glance Riley’s way. “Oh, yes. I’m sorry I asked you to lug all my baggage out to his ranch, but I wasn’t sure where I’d be staying.” She gave the three men a blinding smile.

They nodded, each grinning as if they’d tipped back a bottle of Pete Carter’s best whiskey. All kept their gazes locked on her with rapt attention. Riley frowned, but told himself to be glad that she hadn’t shared with them the real reason she’d come out to his ranch.

“I’ll be staying here.”

“Good,” both brothers said in unison.

Riley’s jaw clenched as he turned to retrieve the remaining luggage.

Russ, who had already unloaded the largest trunk, plucked the two valises from the wagon before Riley could. “How are things going at the ranch, Riley?”

“Very well, thanks.” He smiled at Russ, trying to figure out why he was annoyed. He’d done the right thing by bringing her to town. She wasn’t his responsibility. Hell, he hadn’t even known she was coming to see him.

The three men asked after Susannah’s health at least twice each, and she didn’t seem to mind at all. Clearing his throat, Riley said, “I’ll get you a room, Susannah.”