Midnight Bride

by Tanya Hanson

Overview

Committed to running the shoddy Lazy Jazy ranch left by her granddaddy, Carrie Smith is eager to try her own ideas on saving the place. And she doesn't need a man to help her.

When handsome cowboy Jed Jones arrives without warning in Sweetcream, Texas, he bears documents that proclaim they must wed by midnight or lose the Jazy. Both fearful of relinquishing their heritage, the two exchange vows and steaming kisses... all the while Carrie seeks an annulment even as she falls head over heels.

Jed, meanwhile, intends to discover the mystery of his own pa's death all the while he falls for Carrie even faster and harder.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781612178264
Publisher:	Wild Rose Press
Publication date:	06/28/2013
Pages:	324
Product dimensions:	5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.68(d)

Read an Excerpt

"Might you have any flowers for sale?" asked the newcomer in a deep, appealing voice.

Carrie tried to swallow but couldn't. Since childhood, strapping young males were no surprise to her eyes, what with the wranglers the Lazy Jazy required and the cowboys who stopped by for work after a cattle drive ended.

But she had never beheld one who made her heart flutter inside her ribs like a butterfly. Until this moment. This man stole her breath clean away. The black jacket seemed too tight across the mountainous shoulders, as if he had borrowed it. Or maybe had grown up some since he last wore it. And he was so tall that Mr. Gosling looked like a schoolboy.

As the stranger removed his hat, lush, black hair shimmied in waves atop those shoulders. She found herself longing to touch that hair. It was an unseemly idea, and she tightened her fingers in repentance.

"I need them for my bride. I'm getting married today," the stranger announced.

The housewives clucked as one. Disappointment clogged Carrie's veins.

However, he looked straight at her as he said those words. At first she was insulted. After all, he'd just claimed he had a bride waiting for him. Still, the look he gave her made her skin prickle, but in a tantalizing, delicious way. It was not the goose-bumpy feeling she'd gotten from the crazy gazes of Ol' Junebug Rollins before they'd locked him away. Or the sleazy sideways glances bestowed on her against her will by a cowhand Granddaddy had hired one morning and fired by noon. Peanut Grisham's sly eyes had made her skin crawl before Granddaddy sent him packing with bullets tickling his heels.

No, this was different. This look suggested that she wasempty and needed to be filled. Then she reminded herself that she needed no such thing. Not just yet, anyway, and certainly not from some poor bride's faithless groom. Someday, she allowed, she'd likely want a husband. But now wasn't the right time in her life to fall in love.

She wanted to make it on her own, at least for a while. Without Granddaddy now, she had the chance to prove how her plans just might save the Jazy. Too often the hard-headed Jedediah Smith had dismissed her ideas and suggestions as mere female frivolity, God rest his soul. She had loved him in spite of it.

Yet for a strange second, she found herself jealous of the stranger's bride. The way he kept his unmoving gaze on her made her wonder where his thoughts wandered, and why. She felt a bit of warm satisfaction. Likely his bride was of the mail-order persuasion and had sent another girl's daguerreotype instead of her own homely portrait. Or maybe he was striking a marriage of convenience with a dried-up old spinster with money.

Sweetcream had scads of those. But scads of lovely young belles, too. Carrie tried to remember what banns had been announced lately, but with Granddaddy on her mind, she likely hadn't paid much attention.

Mr. Gosling brought her back to reality. "No, young man. Sorry. I sell only seed. But if you notice the fine rose arbor on that little house next to the livery, why, I can't think why Miz Mattie wouldn't sell you a passel of her pretty blooms. Tell her I sent you. Boyle Gosling."

"I will do that, sir. And my thanks to you." Returning his hat to the top of his head, he tipped it graciously, looking away from Carrie just long enough to acknowledge the rest of the customers. Then he looked pointedly at her again.

He nodded at her in a way somehow more significant than insulting, more polite than lewd.

"Best wishes for your ... marriage," she murmured, barely meaning it. He watched her for a second longer before his eyelids blinked slowly over brown so dark his pupils didn't show.

Self-consciously she returned her attention to the bag of beans. When she dared look up again, he had gone. Disappointment covered her skin like sunshine that was a touch too warm. The store no longer felt cool inside. Suddenly she caught a glimpse of the little locket watch that had been Granny Eldina's. If she didn't run like a schoolgirl, she would be late for Judge Jacobson.

"Please, Mr. Gosling, I'm in a terrible dash! Could you just bill me for these purchases?" she asked nervously, her voice shaky both from the stranger and her large unpaid balance. "And ask your son to load the goods on my wagon right outside? Thank you kindly."

"Sure thing, Carrie. And don't you fret yourself about nothin'. We're always glad to help you out," the shopkeeper replied with an encouraging smile. She knew he referred to the rising amount of her account. God only knew how she would pay it off. Mr. Gosling tossed her an affectionate wink. "Your cheeks look like the roses that stranger asked about. Whatever's goin' on, don't you fret over it, you hear?"

His goodness calmed her a little. On this dry, clear day, she battled a legion of dust as she hustled to the judge's chambers in the small but fine county courthouse in the town square. Wearing black as she was, the dust might as well have been white paint. God willing, they'd get some spring rainfall soon. She tried brushing off the dust, then decided it wouldn't matter to the judge one way or the other.

Obviously he noticed, however, after he held open his chamber door and ushered her in. "I'd say we truly need some rainfall, wouldn't you, Miss Carrie?"

"Yes, of course, Judge. But only if it doesn't come so hard and fast we get flooding."

The judge held out a spindleback chair, waiting for her to arrange her skirts, but she felt like standing. Shrugging, the judge took the overstuffed armchair behind his desk, making small talk as he did so.

Maybe his polite chitchat was intended to relax her, but she wanted whatever was going to happen to happen now. Sheriff Eckert sat uneasily in the chair next to her, which couldn't possibly be a good thing. Was she about to be arrested for something troublesome Granddaddy had caused? He'd had plenty of secretive moments, and of course, his gambling could easily have borne bad fruit.

"Your honor, if you don't mind, sir..." She spoke fairly forcefully, wanting the chance to defend herself, and Granddaddy if need be. "Please tell me quick why you called me here. I have been somewhat concerned all day about this."

Judge Jacobson's plump cheeks withered in worry like a peach drying out in the sun, and the sheriff fiddled with his badge. Carrie realized that whatever was going on was profound indeed. Her skin prickled uneasily beneath the black wool. Never before this moment had she felt the need for a shoulder to lean on. She hoped to God in heaven that she was strong enough not to end up like a helpless infant.

She tightened her knee joints, refusing to collapse into a chair no matter what the verdict. After all, she had faced some mighty dreadful things in her day. Had splinted a ranch hand's leg so badly broken the bone stuck through. Had birthed a two-headed calf that lived for a week before dying in her arms. Had won last Founder's Day Race by a nose but seen the trophy go to a man.

"Carrie, my sweet dear," the judge began softly.

Goodness, it was worse than she imagined. The judge had dropped the honorific and was talking to her as he had when she was three.

"I received some unexpected information late last night," he continued, not meeting her eyes as he shuffled nervously with some papers on his desk.

"And it's your Granddaddy's signature, sure as I live and breathe," Sheriff Eckert announced with confidence. "I know his scrawl like 'twere my own. Besides it's duly notorious."

"Notarized, Elmer," the judge corrected gently.

"What? What's notarized?" Carrie whispered almost helplessly. She knew the meaning of the word. Wild panic began to pump through her veins and slow her breath. Was she going to lose the Lazy Jazy? Had Granddaddy not been her grandfather at all? Was she some no-account orphan he had picked up to fill his empty house?

Calming herself down, she realized the foolishness of her runaway thoughts. She worshipped often at the gravestones where her ma and pa slept together under a cottonwood tree alongside the creek. She'd been born at the ranch. Widow Quill had midwifed. She'd been christened in the very church where she sang every Sunday in the choir. Schoolmaster Braun and his late wife Lorelei had stood up as her godparents.

Then the judge started intoning in a most official voice. Her skin turned to ice. "Carrie..." He looked at her while he said her name but then quickly turned his gaze away. "I received the document under discussion from Mr. Jedediah Jones, who arrived in town late last night. I've determined that it's authentic."

"You mean my granddaddy's will?" Carrie pleaded, both hopeful and terrified. "But your honor, that's a good thing, isn't it?"

For an awkward second, the judge clenched and unclenched his jaw as if he couldn't figure out how to break the news. Carrie figured it out for herself and laid her fingers, now cold, against her pounding neck. Panic choked her gullet. Her granddaddy had a long-lost bastard son who was going to inherit her ranch out from under her. "Judge Jacobson," she demanded, "stop the riddles, please. Who is Jedediah Jones?"

The office door opened at that second as if the movement had been scripted in a play. The timing was perfect.

The judge and the sheriff tensed in harmony with each other just like the folks in the mercantile. Although Carrie now suspected who the newcomer was, she was powerless to stop her head from turning for a look. She managed to swallow her own gasp.

He stood in the doorway, hatless, just as he'd been in the mercantile. And just as breathtaking. In one hand he held a bunch of Miss Mattie Price's iceberg roses, tied with a lavender bow.

From the other hand hung a hatbox from Gosling's Mercantile. The lilac shawl she had admired was draped over his forearm.

Without a word, he walked over to her, removed her old shawl and laid the beautiful new one gently across her shoulders. She had stopped breathing. His eyes locked with hers, and while she couldn't read the message in his gaze, she found she couldn't turn her own away. When he held the flowers to her determinedly, she had no choice but to take them.

"Take off that mourning bonnet," he told her in such a way that it didn't seem like an order. While she did so, he opened the hatbox.

Within a half minute, the beautiful purple chapeau she had fingered lovingly not fifteen minutes ago rested on her head. He tied the bow jauntily under her chin, then all but snapped his heels together as he stood in front of her.

"I'm Jed Jones," he announced. "Your bridegroom."