The Bride Wore Spurs. Janet Dean
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Amy out of this.”
As if held at gunpoint, Cal raised his arms, palms out. “Whoa, brother. I want you to have what Susannah and I share. I’m just saying—”
“Saying what? That I don’t have the sense to know my own mind?”
“Matthew! Calvin! You’re behaving like bullheaded toddlers,” Robert said. Then he nodded his head, a smile forming on his lips. “A merger with the Lazy P makes sense. By pooling our resources, both ranches might survive dropping cattle prices and the bad economy.”
Leave it to his father to see marriage as a business opportunity. “Hannah hasn’t agreed to a merger,” Matt said.
“See that she does.” Robert glanced around the table, at the untouched food. “Enough of this talk. Eat.”
“Eat!” the food-smeared toddler ordered with pride, then stuck a gooey spoon in his hair and grinned.
Everyone laughed, easing the tension at the table.
Matt settled back in his chair, taking a deep breath, trying to slow his breathing. His father tried to run every facet of his sons’ lives. It was the reason Zack had turned to the law. And Cal spent most of his time at Susannah’s folks’ spread.
Still, the ongoing strain between Matt and his father didn’t explain Matt’s reaction to Cal’s concern. He’d thought he had peace about the decision to marry Hannah, but in truth, he was entering uncharted territory.
One grim possibility after another marched through Matt’s mind. Without the benefit of a loving relationship, he and Hannah would deal with Martin’s illness and without a miracle, his death. This marriage could backfire in a myriad of ways.
Matt had grown comfortable with the emptiness of the past four years. Each day had held a blessed sameness, with neither highs nor lows, just a flat, hollow monotony. He had filled those days with work. The highlight of his week were evenings spent with Martin, another lonely man fighting his own demons. Martin’s waning health triggered painful memories of Amy’s death.
Still, none of this excused his treatment of Cal. “I’m sorry for overreacting, Cal.”
His brother met his gaze, an apology in his eyes. “Me, too.”
“To see Hannah wed will give Martin peace,” Ma said. “Hannah’s a lovely young woman, a rancher at heart. A good match for you.”
Robert gave a nod. “Marriage to Hannah is a solution for everyone.”
Cal looked pained, as if he’d taken a bite of cactus.
At her husband’s silence, Susannah frowned at Cal. “Hope you and Hannah will be very happy,” she said, then reported Robbie’s latest humorous antic and conversation resumed as usual.
Matt’s mind wandered back to how all this started. During his visits to the Lazy P, Martin spoke often of Hannah, the daughter he obviously adored. The day Martin was diagnosed with cancer, he’d shared his heavy burden for his only child’s welfare. Matt shared that concern. Hannah was in a tough spot.
Yet, to wed a nineteen-year-old without love scared him silly. Marriage might be a solution for her, but marriage would also create new problems.
Unlike Cal, Matt knew why he’d proposed. He couldn’t risk love, but at twenty-five, he wanted a new beginning. He’d settle for companionship, settle for a woman to share his dreams and goals, settle for a woman who’d share his way of life.
The honest truth was that he was tired. Tired of dodging unsuitable women with matrimony on their minds. Tired of feeling alone in a houseful of people. Tired of fighting his father’s control.
By marrying her, Matt would see that Hannah could remain on the land she loved. He hoped that would make her happy. If not happy, at least content. Something he’d come to appreciate.
Matt had come, hoping for his family’s support of the marriage. For the most part he’d gotten it. Cal would come around. But Pa.... Would Pa’s expectation of a merger between the two ranches wind up causing trouble?
* * *
Two days till Hannah lassoed and tied herself to Matt Walker. Married. The word twisted in her stomach. Wedding vows meant until death do us part, faithfulness, respect.
She stiffened. Obedience. She hoped Matt could tolerate giving up one of those promises. If he tried to keep her on a short tether—
She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat, shoving down all the misgivings trying to spew out of her mouth and into Papa’s ear.
Instead she helped her father to his desk. Last evening Matt had asked for Papa’s permission to wed. Papa had clapped Matt on the back, declared he already thought of Matt as a son and nothing could make him happier than seeing Hannah in good hands.
As if she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself.
Still the news had eased the tension around Papa’s eyes and put a big smile on his face. That was reason enough to bite her tongue.
Hannah glanced out the window. The Walker buggy was coming up the lane. She kissed her father’s cheek. “Matt’s here.”
“While you’re in town, spread the word about the wedding. A chat with the town’s bench sitters and Pastor Cummings should do the trick.”
Hannah dreaded the townsfolk’s reaction, but forced a bright smile.
Martin motioned to the package in Hannah’s hands. “Is that your mama’s dress?”
“It is. I’m taking it to Miss Carmichael’s for alterations. Are you sure you’ll be all right while I’m gone?”
“You’re in more peril in Biddy Carmichael’s shop than I could ever be here.”
“Papa!” Hannah laughed. No matter how much he suffered, her father made the effort to bring laughter to others. “You know her name is Belinda, not Biddy.”
“How could I make such a mistake?” He winked. “Now skedaddle. Don’t keep your groom waiting.”
She kissed him once more, her heart swelling with love, and then walked as fast as her dress would allow, more tortoise than her usual hare. Who could abide such restriction?
Outside, she popped up her frilly parasol, an accessory Aunt Mary Esther had insisted upon. On such a sweltering day riding in an open buggy, Hannah welcomed the shade.
Matt rounded the conveyance, his gaze traveling from the hat perched atop her head to the silk toe of her pump. He doffed his Stetson. “The debutante is back.”
“You looking for a fight, Walker?”
“No, ma’am, I’m not.” He grinned wickedly. “One thing’s sure. Whatever garb she’s wearing, the filly’s a Thoroughbred.”
Hannah thrust up her chin. “I’m becoming your wife, not joining your stable.”
Obviously not the least bit repentant, his impish smile held. “Kind of fun having two of you, debutante and cowgirl, all wrapped up in one very nice parcel.”
At his perusal, butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She corralled her skirts, then allowed him to assist her into the buggy. Whether she would be in good hands as Papa had said, was to be seen, but his grasp was strong, secure.
“You have an admirer in Rosa. She’s very excited about our wedding,” Hannah told him.
“It pays to be on good terms with the cook. Since I’ve been made to understand that won’t likely be you, I plan on buttering her up.”
“So the way to a man’s heart is indeed through his stomach.”
He cocked a brow. “Are you sure you want to know the way to a man’s heart, Hannah?”
A shiver slid along her spine. She quickly looked away from the amusement