Oklahoma Wedding Bells. Carol Finch
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from behind bars.”
“But you won’t if I what, Tremain?” she asked suspiciously. “If I offer to provide some sort of services to you?”
His rakish grin did strange things to her pulse, for reasons she couldn’t account for. More than a hundred men had tried to court her since she had set up camp beside the boundary line for the run. Yet this ruggedly attractive rascal appealed to her. Why? She couldn’t say. She wasn’t sure she even liked the man. Still, there was something about him that intrigued her—and that made her wary and defensive.
It likely stemmed from the fact that he had sprawled on top of her earlier, she mused. She had become fiercely aware that he was one hundred percent male. During their downhill tumble, Josie had found herself riding his muscular thigh, and her breasts had been mashed against his broad chest. It had been unnerving … and titillating. Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t think about that!
She quickly turned her attention to the authoritative air that surrounded him like an invisible cloak. His demeanor reminded her of Captain Holbrook’s commanding manner, which seemed odd for a wandering horse trader.
Her thoughts trailed off and she shivered, becoming aware of the evening chill settling around her. She wished she’d worn her jacket. It would have provided warmth, not to mention extra padding during her fall and wild tumble. Even now, her hip throbbed and her wrist ached from being hyperextended.
“You should buy one of the other horses I have for sale,” he repeated belatedly. “Not Outlaw. He belongs to me.”
She was disappointed he hadn’t tossed out an inappropriate, off-color remark in response to her previous comment. Then she would feel justified in lashing out at him again. It would assure her that she had every reason to dislike him and would be well advised to maintain a cautious distance.
“No, thanks. I’m sticking with Rooster. He’ll get me where I want to go the day of the race.” She hoped.
“Or see you buried,” Sol mumbled as he leaned out to grab the lead rope on the other horses.
“Muriel said something to that effect, but I intend to prove you both wrong,” Josie insisted. She glanced curiously at him. “Are you going to make the land run?”
“Haven’t decided yet. I’m not one to stay in the same place for long. Born under a wandering star, you might say.”
Which meant he and Josie held opposing objectives in life. She dreamed of putting down roots and having a home of her own. She’d endured seven years of feeling unwanted, though she had stayed in a grand house where most women would delight in living. She had been overly anxious to escape that tormenting place. Nowadays, a sod house or crude dugout seemed like a welcoming palace to her.
“You can drop by my homestead after the run and see how well I’m managing without a man’s help or intrusion,” she invited. “Unlike you, Tremain, I want a place to call my own.”
He studied her for a long, contemplative moment. His penetrating green eyes bored into her, as if searching out hidden secrets.
“So … Miz Josephine, where do you hail from?” he asked as they rode toward the tent community that had become her temporary home.
“Iowa. My mother died when I was ten. Three years later, Papa married a wealthy, influential widow who could improve his social standing.” Josie wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Although Papa inherited property from my mother’s family, he had no interest whatsoever in ranching. Eventually he sold it for extra money, after his new wife pressured him into it. Needless to say, my brother and I were hugely disappointed.”
“You had constant conflicts with your stepmother,” Sol said perceptively.
“Yes. She would have preferred if Papa didn’t bring Noah and me into her grand house,” Josie confided, and wondered why she was discussing her personal life with a stranger. Ordinarily, she kept her feelings to herself. She figured everyone had their own problems, and didn’t want to hear about hers.
“It was her house, after all,” she continued, surprising herself again. “She had a daughter and son by her first marriage, and she did her best to make my brother and me feel unwelcome and unaccepted in her circle of highsociety acquaintances.”
“Her home, her money, her friends,” he said with a knowing smile. “She didn’t want to run the risk of you outshining her children. She sounds anything but delightful.”
“Needless to say, I leaped at the chance to join Noah and his then-fiancée, Celia, when they came south to make the Run of ’89. They married after they claimed their adjoining homesteads.”
“But you didn’t claim property nearby?” he asked curiously.
“Couldn’t. The Homestead Act states a single woman of legal age can stake land in a run, but I wasn’t yet twenty-one at the time. Since Celia was, they could combine their property after they filed their individual claims. I helped them set up their farm, which is east of El Reno, and I lived with them until recently.”
“And now it’s your turn to follow your dreams.”
“Exactly. I couldn’t make the Run of ’91, which opened land to the east of their homestead, either.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” he asked interestedly.
“Because I couldn’t work the fields and erect buildings for barns, hog sheds and chicken coops by myself,” she explained. “At the time, I didn’t have the funds to hire workers, either. But I can raise cattle, train horses and build fences on the soon-to-be-opened range land.” She stared at him, daring him to deny it.
He grinned and glanced meaningfully at Rooster. The horse had been tossing his head and sidestepping every chance he got.
“Yes, I can see how well trained this devil is. But you can claim twice as much land if you accept a marriage proposal and wed after the run, like your scheming sister-in-law did,” he pointed out.
“She isn’t a schemer, and that was different,” Josie said defensively. “Celia loves Noah and he loves her. And don’t think my prospective suitors haven’t mentioned repeatedly the advantage of claiming more land for a ranch. But I’m not like my father. He married both times for position and prestige, the second even more than the first. I lost all respect for him when he practically deserted my brother and me to seek acceptance in society’s highest circles.”
Josie inhaled a calming breath, determined not to let hurtful feelings from her past upset her. She had a new life now and her always-critical stepmother was miles away.
“I had you and Miz Wilson pegged as clever opportunists.” He inclined his raven head. “I was wrong to believe the worst without hearing the facts. I apologize.”
“What about you, Tremain? What is your story …?”
Her voice trailed off when she saw Muriel trotting her dapple-gray mare over the hill—with none other than Captain Holbrook riding beside her. What the devil was her friend doing with him? And why were they out here?
Josie stared apprehensively at Tremain, wondering if he planned to accuse her of trespassing, as he’d threatened earlier. But he simply glanced at her, shrugged a broad shoulder and gazed curiously at the approaching twosome.
Dear Lord! Josie thought suddenly. Had Muriel taken her rash suggestion of proposing to the man she disliked as a tactic to fend off unwanted suitors? Muriel and she hadn’t had time to hammer out the details of such a drastic plan yet. Perhaps Muriel had acted impulsively and persuaded Holbrook to become her temporary fiancé.
Josie tossed Solomon Tremain a speculative glance. Maybe she should follow her own advice. The aimless horse trader would make a perfect pretend fiancé. He wouldn’t hang around after the run, and other potential suitors would be too busy establishing their own ranches to notice. She would be left alone to set up her homestead.
“Why