Can She Drive Away Not One, But Three Suitors?

Free-spirited photographer Regina Nash is ready to try. But unless she marries one of the gentlemen her grandfather has sent for her inspection, she’ll lose custody of her nephew. So she must persuade them—and Adam Barr, her grandfather’s envoy—that she’d make a thoroughly unsuitable wife.

Adam isn’t convinced. Regina might be unconventional, but she has wit, spirit and warmth. His job was to make sure Regina chose from the men he escorted to Texas—not to marryher himself! Can they overcome the secrets in her past, and the shadows in his, to find a perfect future together?

She looked so brittle—vulnerable almost. Adam felt an unwanted stirring of sympathy, but pushed it ruthlessly aside.

“There’s no point fighting this,” he said, hoping Reggie would see reason. “They are all good men, but different enough to give you a real choice. I’m certain you’ll decide which you find most compatible in that period of time.”

“Are you now?” The vulnerable air evaporated to be replaced by the scorching look and frigid tone she’d brandished before.

So much for that stirring of sympathy. Obviously, Miss Nash could hold her own in any war of words.

“As for this contract—” her chin titled up at a militant angle “—I’m sure I’ll need time to study it, perhaps have a lawyer look it over, before I sign it.”

Adam stiffened. He was a trained lawyer, which she knew quite well. And he was here to help her through this. “I’d be glad to explain any—”

“I’d as soon ask the devil to explain a scripture.”

WINNIE GRIGGS

is a city girl born and raised in southeast Louisiana’s Cajun Country who grew up to marry a country boy from the hills of northwest Louisiana. Though her Prince Charming (who often wears the guise of a cattle rancher) is more comfortable riding a tractor than a white steed, the two of them have been living their own happily-ever-after for more than thirty years. During that time they raised four proud-to-call-them-mine children and a too-numerous-to-count assortment of dogs, cats, fish, hamsters, turtles and 4-H sheep.

Winnie has held a job at a utility company since she graduated from college. She saw her first novel hit bookstores in 2001. In addition to her day job and writing career, Winnie serves on committees within her church and on the executive boards and committees of several writing organizations, and she is active in local civic organizations—she truly believes the adage that you reap in proportion to what you sow.

In addition to writing and reading, Winnie enjoys spending time with her family, cooking and exploring flea markets. Readers can contact Winnie at P.O. Box 14, Plain Dealing, LA 71064, or email her at winnie@winniegriggs.com.

Handpicked Husband

Winnie Griggs

Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old.

Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.

—Isaiah 43:18–19

To my editor, Melissa Endlich,

whose faith in me and sincere efforts to help me make my writing the best that it can be has been a source of encouragement, inspiration and joy during the years we have worked together.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Northeast Texas, 1894

An ear-splitting shriek ricocheted through the forest, startling a raucous cloud of blackbirds from the roadside trees.

“Easy, Trib.” Adam Barr patted the horse’s neck as the animal shied. What now?

The buggy behind him slowed to a stop, but Adam ignored it, along with the uneasy questions from the three men seated inside. He’d promised to escort the men from Philadelphia to Texas, not be their nursemaid.

The wailing continued and Adam fought the urge to tilt back his head and answer with a wild, full-throated howl. He’d gritted his teeth so often these past few days the muscles in his jaw hurt. Taking on this job when more important business waited for him in Philadelphia had him in a foul mood, as his companions could no doubt attest.

After six years of biding his time—six years, two months and thirteen days to be exact—he’d thought he could finally pursue his goal without distraction.

If this assignment had come from anyone but Judge Madison...

Adam scanned the brush-skirted hardwoods lining the trail. Whatever the source of that eerie sound, it was headed their way.

He eased his rifle from the scabbard. Anticipation stirred his blood. He might have to employ his “company manners” with his three charges, but this bellowing beast was another matter.

No telling what manner of creature roamed this forsaken backwoods. The wail was too high-pitched to belong to a bear. A large cat maybe?

He urged Trib closer to the trees. There seemed to be a pattern to the sound, a certain mangled cadence. Almost as if—

Well, what do you know?

He leaned back. Not a wild animal after all. Too bad.

“Do you think it’s a wolf?”

Adam glanced over his shoulder. Chance’s expression, like his tone, held more eagerness than worry. Did the kid think it would be some kind of lark to face down a wolf? Of course, from what Judge Madison had told Adam, the twenty-one-year-old was on this expedition precisely because he was prone to seek out trouble.

“Sounds more like an infernal wildcat.” Everett adjusted his shirt cuff with exaggerated care, doing a creditable job of appearing unconcerned. But his British accent was more pronounced now, something Adam noticed happened when anything rattled the dandified cynic.

Mitchell, who controlled the skittish carriage horse with ease, refrained from comment. Nothing unusual in that. The loose-limbed bear of a man had spent most of the trip west with a sort of sleepy-eyed disinterest. What was different, however, was the subtle alertness that radiated from him now, as if he were a cavalryman waiting for the enemy to appear over the rise.

Another strident note drew Adam’s focus back to the roadside. He didn’t bother to disabuse them of the notion that it might be a wild animal. It’d do the pampered trio good to have something to worry about besides the unorthodox plot they’d gotten themselves embroiled in.

“Perhaps you should get the carriage moving,” Everett said. “I’m sure our escort can handle this better without us to distract him.”

“We shouldn’t abandon Mr. Barr,” Chance shot back. “He might need—”

“This is about common sense, Junior, not courage,” Everett interrupted. “Besides, I do believe Mr. Barr is more interested in getting rid of the lot of us than having us guard his back.”

“I told you before—the name’s Chance, not Junior.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. Everett was right. Even if it had been a grizzly headed this way, he’d rather face that than listen to more of this petty bickering. This assignment couldn’t be over soon enough to suit him.

A heartbeat later, the source of the ear-grating racket stepped onto the roadside. As soon as the creature caught sight of them, the discordant warble ceased.

“It’s a man!” Chance’s tone carried as much disappointment as surprise.

“Not quite.” Adam didn’t blame the youth for the mistake. The party responsible for that unmelodic braying wore baggy overalls and an equally oversize shirt, both of which had seen better days. There was even a smudge of dirt on one cheek to match those on the clothing.

But this was no man.

From Adam’s closer vantage, he spied a frizzy brown braid long enough to brush the seat of the overalls. That, along with the slender neck and hint of curves below, proclaimed this person as most definitely female. He hesitated, though, to use the word lady. She appeared more a disheveled forest waif than a civilized being.

The girl seemed as startled as the men in the carriage. But a flicker of something else—disbelief? wariness?—shadowed her surprise.

Remembering he still cradled the rifle, Adam resheathed it and tipped his hat. No point scaring her more than they already had.

Besides, she might be a good source of information.

He dug deep for the polite pleasantries that had grown rusty with disuse. “Good afternoon, miss. My apologies if we startled you.”

“Good heavens, it’s a girl.” Chance’s whispered-but-easily-heard comment only served to heighten the color in her cheeks as she broke eye contact with Adam.

“Or what passes for one in this barbaric wilderness.” Everett didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Do you think she speaks English?”

Adam narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Did the men think just because she looked like an uncivilized rube she didn’t have feelings?

But before he could say anything, the girl snapped out of her slack-jawed immobility. Her lips compressed and her eyes flashed daggers. So, there was more wildcat than rabbit in her, was there?

Instead of baring claws, however, she bent down to pluck a stem of grass. Straightening, she favored them with a broad, neighborly grin as she stuck the weed between her teeth.

But something in her stance told Adam the claws were there, merely out of sight for now. He also noticed she didn’t step away from the protection of the trees.

This girl was no fool. He mentally saluted her precaution, then leaned back in the saddle, ready to enjoy whatever performance she had in store for his companions.

“Howdy, gents.” Her words were drawn out in a thick, rustic drawl. “I reckon I was a mite surprised at that, but no harm done. We don’t get many strangers out this way, especially fancy-lookin’ gents like you ’uns.”

Her gaze flickered to Adam’s again. Some trick of the light lent a luminosity to her irises, made them appear to change from green to blue and back again. The image of a statue he’d admired in a museum years ago shimmered through his memory. The scales of the dragon had seemed to glow, had rippled with a fluidity of color that was mesmerizing.

This girl’s eyes were just like that.

She turned to the men behind him, and the spell was broken. Adam collected himself, annoyed at the fanciful turn his thoughts had taken. This trip must have worn on him more than he realized.

Mitchell remembered his manners first. “Are you all right, miss?”

She slid the stem of grass to the other corner of her mouth with bucolic nonchalance. As she did so, Adam saw her size up the speaker, no doubt weighing Mitchell’s intimidating size against his concerned gaze.

She finally flashed a friendly grin. “Fit as a filly in a field of clover. Why’d you ask?”

Let it go, Adam silently advised. But Mitchell apparently hadn’t figured out what was all too obvious to Adam.

“It’s just, well, that screeching we heard. I thought maybe something had frightened you.”

Adam watched for her reaction with interest. Would she dissolve into tears of mortification, or give Mitchell a blistering set-down for his innocent blunder?

To his surprise, she did neither. Instead she winced and gave a rueful smile. “My kinder friends call what you just heard a ‘joyful noise.’”

Adam tilted his hat back with one finger. A female who could laugh at herself? Now there was a novelty.

Ruddy color crept into Mitchell’s face along with the belated light of understanding. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I—”

She smiled and raised a hand. “Don’t fret none, mister. No offense taken. Why do you think I wait ’til I’m out in the woods to really give it my all?”

She looked around, including each of them in her gaze. “You fellas lost? There’s not much out this way but trees and critters. If you’re looking for the road to Bent Willow, you passed the turn about three miles back.”

“Actually, we’re looking for Miss Regina Nash.” A flicker in her expression told Adam she knew the name. “I understand she’s staying somewhere out this way.” He’d hand it to the judge’s granddaughter, she’d taken great pains to make it as difficult for him to find her as possible. But she obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with if she thought a trek through the woods would deter him.

The girl nodded, pulling the stem from her mouth and waving it in the direction they’d been traveling. “Her place is about a twenty-minute ride farther on. Can’t miss it.” She rolled the stem between her fingers, eyeing him speculatively. “I was by there a bit ago, though, and it didn’t seem like they was expecting company.”

He swallowed a sour laugh. “No, I don’t imagine they are.” He watched her toss the blade of grass away, still intrigued by her in spite of himself.

Goodness knows it didn’t have anything to do with her looks. In that grubby getup and with smudges on her face, and her hair indifferently tamed into a bushy braid, she lacked anything resembling sophistication or feminine wiles. No, it was more the glimpse of personality he’d seen in her eyes, and the complete lack of apology for her untidy appearance, even after the tactless comments from the men in the carriage. The girl seemed a product of her environment, completely lacking artifice or slyness.

“Do you live nearby?” he heard himself ask. “Can we give you a ride?”

Now why had he made such an offer? It wasn’t like him to act impulsively. Too late to retract the offer now, though.

“No, thanks. I’m headed that’a way.” She waved toward the trail behind her.

Adam nodded with more relief than disappointment. As interesting as this backwoods miss was, he didn’t have time for distractions right now. The sooner he found Regina Nash, the sooner he could be done with this mess.

“Then I suppose we’ll be on our way.” He gathered the reins. “Good day.”

“Nice talking to you fellas.” She hooked her thumbs under the straps of her overalls and rocked back on her heels. “Tell Miz Nash I said hello when you see her.”

Adam raised a brow. “Who shall I say sends her greetings?”

“She’ll know.”

Being coy, was she? He’d already decided the girl wasn’t quite as guileless as she seemed. That drawl was a bit too thick, that gleam in her eyes a bit too knowing.

Not that he thought the worse of her for it. Under the circumstances, she probably felt safer pretending to be simple. Living down to their expectations, as it were.

He turned back to the carriage. “All right, gentlemen. Time to move on.” But as he set Trib in motion, Adam felt her gaze on him, like a prickle between his shoulder blades.

A moment later when he glanced back, however, she’d disappeared.

He mentally offered a salute. It was as if, by getting him to look back, she’d managed to have the last word.

Mitchell’s gaze followed Adam’s. “Who do you suppose she was?”

Everett clapped Mitchell on the back. “So, you like an earthy quality to your women, do you?”

Mitchell shot him a contemptuous glower. “The kind of woman I like is none of your concern.”

Adam faced forward again, wondering why Everett took such pleasure in needling his companions. Did he think his polished manner somehow made him superior?

“Oh, she wasn’t so bad,” Chance offered. “Seemed a bit simple, but she was friendly enough.”

Chance saw her as simple? Adam shook his head. Was he the only one who’d glimpsed the intelligence in those changeable eyes?

“What does it matter?” Everett’s question had an irritable edge. “Until Miss Nash makes her selection, none of us has any business looking at another woman.”

A pall descended on the trio. The clink of harness and the rattle of carriage wheels suddenly seemed unnaturally loud. The question of who would be selected as the sacrificial lamb in this unorthodox lottery rode alongside the carriage like a black-clad specter.

Would the man who drew the short straw really follow through with his end of the bargain? Adam shrugged off any feelings of sympathy for their predicament. They’d known the terms before they signed the contract. His only concern in this matter was to see everything settled according to the judge’s wishes, and the sooner the better.

For six eternal, nightmarish years, he’d waited for the day he would be free to pursue the truth, to clear his reputation and unmask those who had blackened it. The proof he needed was almost within reach now, he could feel it. Soon, very soon, he’d be able to exonerate himself, to reclaim the life that had been stolen from him.

But he couldn’t do it from Turnabout, Texas.

His frustration over being forced to put his own plans on hold for even a day, much less four weeks, was burning a hole in his gut.

Not that he’d let on as much to anyone else. His ability to maintain an unperturbed demeanor through any situation was a matter of pride to him. And a major source of annoyance for his opponents.

It was an ability that had served him well in his years as a trial lawyer. The drive to hold on to that one piece of himself, to not let them take it away from him along with everything else, had helped keep him sane the last six years.

That, and the burning need to see justice done.

He nudged his horse to a slightly faster pace.

It would be nice if Miss Nash acted sensibly and dispatched this business with as little fuss as possible.

It would be nice, but given the situation and his own run of bad luck, he didn’t hold out much hope.

* * *

Reggie sprinted down the overgrown trail, grateful for the freedom the overalls gave her. The road the men were taking meandered through this hilly woodland, twisting and turning without a discernable pattern. On foot, she could cut a much more direct path. With any luck, she’d reach the cabin a full ten minutes ahead of the riders.

Thank goodness she’d decided not to take her photographic equipment with her this afternoon.

Reggie winced as her boot caught on a root. Reluctantly, she slowed to a trot. Spraining an ankle wouldn’t be in her best interest.

Adam Barr.

Now there was a face she hadn’t expected to ever see outside of Philadelphia, much less in the backwoods of Northeast Texas. The last time she’d seen him had been in Grandfather Madison’s home seven years ago. A lifetime ago.

Back then, her grandfather’s dashing young protégé had been an up-and-coming lawyer, a man who seemed to have the world at his fingertips.

Until his spectacular fall from grace.

She wasn’t the least bit surprised he hadn’t realized who she was. In fact, she doubted he’d have recognized her even if she’d been all gussied up in her Sunday best. She’d been only a girl back then, fifteen years old. And he’d mostly seen her in the company of her stepsister. Next to Patricia she might as well be invisible. Reggie had always thought of herself as shadow to Patricia’s sunlight.

But she’d recognized him immediately. A woman rarely forgot the object of her first romantic schoolgirl fantasies—even if she’d dusted her hands of the fantasy as she matured.

Not that he hadn’t changed. He’d aged of course, but it was more than that. He still had that heart-stopping dimple in his chin and bluer eyes than any man had a right to. But now those eyes held a flintiness, and that dimple seemed incongruous rather than endearing.

He’d also got himself a faded but new-to-her scar on his cheek. A souvenir, no doubt, from the kind of life he’d lived since she saw him last.

Well, she might have been young back then, but her wallflower status gave her lots of time to observe without being caught out. She’d sensed the charming, save-the-world idealist had some shadowy secret lurking behind his easy smile. In fact, it was one of the things that had drawn her to him, had caused her to moon over him with such private, embarrassing-to-remember enthusiasm all those years ago.

Now, though, those shadows seemed to have taken stronger hold, giving his smile a cynical twist.

Seeing him through the eyes of a woman rather than a child, Reggie was relieved to discover his glance no longer had the power to set her pulse aflutter. To the contrary, her heart-thumping reaction to the sight of him had been due to surprise—that was all.

Of course, that was neither here nor there right now.

What in tarnation was he doing in Texas? What possible reason could he have for seeking her out? And who were the three city dudes he’d brought along? Surely, if Grandfather Madison had sent them, he’d have sent word ahead of time. Of course, the old fox hadn’t told her of his plans to donate a new wing to Turnabout’s schoolhouse, either.

Maybe that was it. Maybe they’d come to check on the progress of her grandfather’s newest project. But why had they come out here when the schoolhouse was back in town?

None of this made sense.

Could it have something to do with the letter she’d written Grandfather last month asking for guidance on how to formally adopt Jack? Were these men here to give her legal advice? But surely the matter was nothing more than a simple formality.

As far as Jack was concerned she was practically his mother already. Jack had been only three months old when her stepsister Patricia passed on. She’d been helping her brother-in-law, Lemuel, care for him ever since. Now that Lemuel was gone as well, she wanted to make certain Jack knew how special he was to her.

Her gut clinched. Surely there hadn’t been a problem with her request? What obstacle could there be to her adopting Jack? In the eyes of the law she was only his step-aunt, true enough, but he didn’t have any close blood kin, save the judge. No, there had to be some other reason they were here.

Ignoring the stitch in her side, Reggie picked up speed again as the cabin came into view. She had preparations to make before her callers arrived.

The Adam Barr she’d known all those years ago had been a pleasant, witty charmer, a self-made man who, after years of paying his dues, was just coming into his own. Certainly not a man to be afraid of.

But time could change a person, especially considering where the zealous ex-lawyer had spent the past six years.

Reggie wondered just when he’d gotten out of prison.

Chapter Two

As Reggie sprinted the last few feet to the cabin, Mrs. Peavy stepped out on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. “Goodness, what’s got you in such an all-fired hurry?”

Reggie grabbed the porch rail, struggling to catch her breath. “Company’s coming.” She inhaled deeply then tried again. “Be here...in about five minutes.”

“Company?” The housekeeper looked more puzzled than alarmed. “Who’d be coming out all this way?”

“It’s Adam Barr.” Reggie climbed the steps, finally able to speak without panting. “He’s a friend of Grandfather’s I met in Philadelphia ages ago. And he’s brought three men with him.”

“Land sakes. Someone’s come all the way from Philadelphia to see us? Did the judge send him?”

“I’m not sure. But until I find out, I’d rather keep Jack busy elsewhere. Would you step down to the lake and let Ira know he and Jack should stay put until I signal it’s okay?”

Mrs. Peavy gave her a considering look. The squarely built woman was shorter than Reggie and had more salt than pepper in her hair, but she could assume a commanding presence when she wanted to. “You expecting trouble?”

Reggie shrugged. “Hard to tell.” For now, she’d keep the information about Adam’s jail time to herself. She didn’t want to alarm Mrs. Peavy. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to let the housekeeper know caution was in order. “I’d just prefer to find out what this is about before introducing them to Jack.”

Their reason for seeking her out might be perfectly innocent, but she didn’t believe in taking chances. Four able-bodied men versus herself, a six-year-old and an elderly couple—the scales seemed weighted in the visitors’ favor if trouble erupted. But there were a few things she could do to even the odds until she learned their reasons for being here.

She gave Mrs. Peavy a level look. “Ira does have his hunting rifle with him, doesn’t he?”

The housekeeper straightened, then nodded. “I won’t be gone but a few minutes. Think I’ll bring Buck back with me. You go get yourself cleaned up.”

Oh, she’d clean up all right. By the time the handsome lawyer-turned-convict and his friends arrived, there’d be nary a trace of the ragtag tomboy they’d met earlier.

If Adam Barr remembered anything at all about her from her long ago visits to Philadelphia, then he’d learn he wasn’t the only one who’d changed. She wasn’t the tongue-tied wallflower she used to be.

In Philadelphia she’d always felt like some critter put on a leash and made to heel. Here, she was free to be herself.

She marched into the cabin, her hands already on the buttons of her overalls, her mind planning her next moves.

If she remembered right, her old blue dress had pockets large enough to hide her father’s derringer.

* * *

Adam bit off a groan as Chance cleared his throat. He should have known the silence wouldn’t last.

“Do you really believe Miss Nash came out here to avoid us?”

The question hung in the air a moment, then Everett swatted at something on his neck with an irritated oath. “Can you think of any other reason a sane person would choose to hide out in this ghastly wilderness?”

Adam refrained from comment. Arriving in Turnabout to discover the judge’s granddaughter had retreated to an isolated cabin had only added to his sense of time—and opportunities—slipping away. The plan had been for Miss Nash to receive her grandfather’s letter of explanation before the four of them arrived so she would have time to come to terms with the arrangement in relative privacy.

Instead, she’d apparently used the time to enact this childish stalling tactic. Did she think they’d get tired of waiting and go back to Philadelphia? Or was she using the time to devise some clever scheme to outmaneuver them?

Well, he had no intention of cooling his heels in Turnabout while waiting for her to reappear. Over the grumbling protests of his companions, he’d immediately set out to find her.

Judge Madison had cautioned that his granddaughter would do her best to thwart his plans. He’d also said she was shrewd and not one to take being manipulated with good grace. In other words, much like the judge himself, even if the two didn’t share a blood tie.

Adam had expected a more direct assault, however, not this cowardly retreat. But, then again, he was dealing with a woman.

Of course, the judge also had good things to say about the step-granddaughter he obviously loved. He’d assured Adam that beneath her tough exterior was a kind-hearted, vulnerable woman. The old schemer had made Adam promise to do his utmost to see that she wasn’t unduly embarrassed by the situation. Although, considering the “situation” was instigated by the judge himself, and deliberately orchestrated to force her hand, Adam wasn’t certain how he was going to pull off that part of his assignment.

But he’d given his word to try. It was the least he could do for the one person who’d stood by him through everything.

And it wasn’t as if he didn’t feel some sympathy for Miss Nash. He could imagine her reaction to that letter. She no doubt felt as if she were being backed into a corner.

And he, of all people, knew what it was to feel trapped and betrayed by those you trusted.

“I still think the three of us should have stayed in town while you approached Miss Nash alone.” Mitchell’s words held an accusatory edge. “I can’t imagine Judge Madison would approve of the lot of us descending on his granddaughter’s privacy this way.”

“It’s my job to decide what the judge would or wouldn’t want,” Adam answered shortly. He might owe the older man a debt of gratitude, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look out for his own interests as well.

“Do you think that’s Miss Nash’s place?”

Adam raised up in the saddle at Chance’s words. They’d topped a low hill, and ahead of them, barely visible amidst the trees, was a log structure.

“Only one way to find out.” He nudged Trib into a trot.

The others didn’t appear to share his impatience. Not only didn’t they increase their pace, Adam sensed a definite slowing of the carriage. The closer he got to the cabin, however, the less certain he was that they’d reached their destination. He studied the place while the carriage caught up.

“The judge’s granddaughter is staying here?” Everett’s words echoed Adam’s thoughts.

They’d all been inside Judge Madison’s stately home. Adam had assumed the granddaughter lived in a comparable level of luxury, albeit a more countrified version. Of course, this wasn’t the household’s primary residence, but even so...

“This is a hovel.” Everett sounded horrified.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Chance’s response lacked conviction. “It’s plain, but—”

“Look at it.” The British undertones in Everett’s voice sharpened. “The walls are unfinished logs and the whole lot isn’t much bigger than a respectable parlor. Those benches on the porch—bah! They look as if they were put together with odd bits of scrap timbers by a drunken carpenter. There aren’t even glass panes on the windows.”

Adam turned to face them. “We don’t know for certain that this is Miss Nash’s place.” He narrowed his eyes and added a flintiness to his tone. “But even if it is, she’s Judge Madison’s granddaughter and is to be treated like a lady. Is that understood?”

He might be as irritated as a picnicker in a rainstorm by Miss Nash’s delaying tactics, but he’d given his word to protect her honor, and these men better remember that.

He waited for their reluctant nods, then faced forward again. Now that he’d had time to get a good look at the place, he found he didn’t agree with Everett’s assessment. True, the structure was rougher than he’d expected. But the swing hanging on one end of the porch held calico cushions, and the whole area seemed well-tended. Maybe it was because of the years he’d spent in that iron-barred rat hole, but this place had a simple, homey appeal.

Wisps of smoke curling from the chimney and an abandoned checkerboard on the porch assured him someone was in residence, but was it Miss Nash? It seemed more likely this was home to the girl they’d encountered earlier. Not that she’d had time to make it here. Still, there might be someone else about.

Sure enough, a stocky, older woman appeared from the side of the cabin. The banshee’s mother perhaps?

Whoever she was, she eyed them with as much suspicion as the muddy yellow cur padding along beside her. The dog had a feral quality that didn’t bode well for anyone the creature took a dislike to.

Chance gave a low, appreciative whistle. “Look at that mutt, will you? He’s big as a pony, and those teeth are like spikes. Do you suppose he’s part wolf?”

“Given our surroundings, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Everett responded. “I, however, don’t intend to get close enough to examine his features.”

“Afraid?” Chance’s tone matched the sneer on his face. “Are you a coward as well as a dandy?”

“Listen, boy.” Everett flicked a spot of dust from his sleeve. “I have no intention of rising to an adolescent dare just to prove I can live up to your idea of manly valor.”

The dog watched the men without blinking. The woman’s expression was even less welcoming than that of the cur.

Doing his best to ignore the squabbling men, Adam tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, ma’am. We’re looking for Miss Regina Nash. Can you tell me where I might find her?”

“Who’s asking?”

The lack of warmth in the woman’s tone was punctuated by a low growl from her companion. She lowered her hand to stroke the creature’s head, never taking her gaze from Adam.

What did it take to get a straight answer around here? Adam tamped down his impatience. “My name is Adam Barr. Miss Nash’s grandfather sent me.”

She nodded acknowledgment, but remained stone-faced. “Funny, the judge didn’t send word about your coming.”

Did that mean this was Miss Nash’s place? In which case, was the female major domo bluffing, or had Miss Nash kept the letter a secret?

Not that it mattered. Adam would play along, as long as it got the judge’s granddaughter out here. “As a matter of fact, he did. Perhaps his letter arrived after you left town.”

Her manner remained stiff. “I see.” She gave the dog’s head another pat, then moved to the steps. “Miss Reggie’s inside. I’m Mabel Peavy, the housekeeper. If you gents will make yourselves at home out here, I’ll let her know we have company.”

A housekeeper for this place? It was almost laughable, if he’d been in the mood to be amused. If Regina Nash was inside she’d doubtless overheard them. Why didn’t she come on out? Surely she knew it was futile to continue hiding?

As Mrs. Peavy reached the door, she glanced back. “Don’t worry about Buck. He won’t bother you as long as you don’t make any sudden moves toward one of the family members. He has a strong protective streak. Otherwise, he’s just a big overgrown puppy.”

The dog’s baleful glare seemed to contradict her statement.

Adam dismounted, glad to stand after sitting in a saddle for so long. He moved toward the porch, but only climbed the first two steps before lounging back against a support post. No shaded bench for him. He preferred to feel the sun on his face. He couldn’t seem to get his fill of fresh air and open spaces ever since he shook off the dust of prison two months ago.

Besides, from here he had a clear view of the door.

Everett climbed onto the porch, giving Buck a wide berth. He dusted a chair with his handkerchief, then sat down with the air of royalty stooping to grace a mud hut.

Chance paused in front of the dog. When the beast bared his fangs, though, Chance continued up the steps. Glowering at Everett’s smirk, he sauntered to a bench on the other side of the porch and slouched down on it.

Mitchell remained on the grass in front of the porch, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He kept a respectful distance from the dog, but otherwise seemed more concerned with watching the front door than the animal.

Adam thought about who these men were and what they were being offered, and he still couldn’t find the logic in the judge’s selections. Everett—an officious dandy who’d destroyed an entire family with his sloppy reporting. Mitchell—a man who’d let his bottled rage get the better of him and killed someone in a gunfight. Chance—the spoiled younger son of a politician who’d gotten into trouble one too many times for the law to continue turning a blind eye.

As a prosecuting attorney, Adam would have had little trouble convicting any of them. Sure, there had been extenuating circumstances in all three cases, but that was neither here nor there. In Adam’s view, there was right and wrong, good and evil, black and white. Trying to see shades of gray only resulted in confusing the issues of guilt or innocence.

He himself, an innocent man, had spent six years in prison, and was still struggling to pull his life back together. Yet these three self-proclaimed wrongdoers not only remained free, but were being given a generously funded opportunity to start over.

Where was the justice in that?

Adam heard the murmur of voices from inside and pushed away his sour thoughts. Had Miss Nash finally decided to join them? His three companions were strung so tight he could feel the tension crackle in the oppressively still air.

A deerfly buzzed by and landed on his cheek. Swatting it away, he stared at the door, barely controlling the urge to march up and demand Miss Nash show herself.

When the door finally did open, his three companions snapped to attention. The dog also stiffened, eyeing them as a predator would its prey. But it was only Mrs. Peavy.

Confound the woman, was she deliberately keeping them waiting? The judge hadn’t painted her as either mean-spirited or a coward. But perhaps he didn’t know his granddaughter as well as he thought.

Mrs. Peavy held a tray containing a pitcher and glasses. She quieted the dog with a word, then turned to the men. “It’s a long ride from Turnabout,” she said as she set her burden on a nearby bench. “I imagine you’d all be glad of a nice, tall glass of apple cider while you wait.”

Mitchell, ever the gentleman, was the first to step up. “Thank you, ma’am. That does sound inviting.”

The housekeeper responded with a smile. “Help yourself.” When she turned to Adam, though, she was all business. “Miss Reggie will be out in a moment.”

Adam nodded, refraining from comment.

It irked him that he couldn’t remember much about Regina Nash. He was usually good with names and faces. True, he hadn’t seen her often, but that was no excuse.

He remembered her stepsister in exquisite detail. And it wasn’t just that he’d known Patricia longer—it would be hard for anyone to forget such a delicate, feminine creature. Not only was she a beauty, she had the willowy grace of a ballerina and the gentle sweetness of a lamb. Being on the receiving end of one of her smiles had made a person feel special.

But Miss Nash’s image was elusive, a wispy shadow he couldn’t bring into focus. She was younger than Patricia, and different in appearance and personality. He remembered a dark-haired girl with a coltish awkwardness about her, a girl who preferred to keep to the fringes of gatherings rather than mingle. She’d seemed a wren in the presence of the elegant swans that were her stepmother and stepsister. That was all he remembered—impressions more than real memories.

His thoughts drifted to the less than musically talented miss they’d encountered earlier. Something about her hinted at earthiness and fire and a quixotic vulnerability. Perhaps, if the opportunity materialized, he’d ask Miss Nash about her.

Adam stroked the brim of his hat between his thumb and forefinger as his thoughts circled back to his reason for being here. “I don’t see the judge’s great-grandson about,” he said, catching the housekeeper’s gaze.

Mrs. Peavy stiffened, and the dog’s lip drew back as he gave a low, throaty growl. The beast seemed to be waiting for word to attack.

“Just why would you be interested in Jack’s whereabouts?”

Adam mentally counted to ten, maintaining his smile by force of will. Why did the woman treat every question he asked with suspicion?

He was spared the need to answer as the door opened once more.

Their hostess had finally deigned to join them.

“Now Mrs. Peavy, there’s no need to be impolite.” The speaker, a tall, slim woman, stepped out onto the porch.

Adam took a minute to size her up. He’d always been proud of his ability to read an opponent—it was another of those skills that had served him equally well in the courtroom as in prison.

If she’d kept them waiting so she could primp it didn’t show. While he could find nothing wrong with her appearance, he saw nothing particularly special about it, either. Her dress was a nondescript blue frock and her coffee-brown hair was secured into a serviceable knot at the nape of her neck.

Yet something about her commanded attention. Perhaps it was the way she looked you straight in the eye, as if trying to take your measure. Or perhaps it was the way she carried herself, as if the world would have to meet her on her own terms. Or maybe it was the healthy glow she projected, like a freshly picked and polished apple.

Miss Nash might not be the beauty her stepsister had been, but he definitely couldn’t picture this confident woman meekly fading away in anyone’s shadow. As for the coltish awkwardness he remembered, the years had replaced that with an air of self-assurance and composure.

This woman was one he would definitely remember.

“Hello, gentlemen.” She included them all in her polite smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I hope you took the opportunity to enjoy a glass of cider.”

She extended a hand toward Adam. He noticed she kept the other hidden in the folds of her skirt. “Mr. Barr, how nice to see you again.”

Adam took her hand and nodded acknowledgment, wondering what she concealed in her other palm. “Miss Nash.”

Something about her appearance and voice did seem familiar, but not like something from his distant past. It gave him a nagging, I’m-missing-something feeling.

She laughed. “You don’t recognize me, do you? Not surprising—I looked very different last time we met.”

He straightened abruptly. Those eyes! That vivid, translucent blue-green of a dragon’s scales.

This woman, with her air of country gentility, was the backwoods hoyden with the banshee voice they’d encountered earlier. Now he knew what had delayed her. But how had she managed to get here ahead of them?

And what had she been doing out in the woods earlier, alone and attired in castoff men’s clothing?

Her gaze registered surprise at his reaction, then she nodded slightly, acknowledging the connection he’d made. Was she embarrassed at having been found out? If so, she didn’t show it. She merely eyed him expectantly, waiting for his next move.

Should he call her hand? She’d toyed with them, pretending to be something she wasn’t, pretending not to know him. Had she been watching for them? Perhaps hoping to turn them back?

As for him unmasking her, if the others weren’t observant enough to see through her disguise, it wasn’t his job to point it out to them.

“To the contrary,” he said, replying to her earlier remark, “I remember our last meeting quite well.” He released her hand. “Before I forget, I promised to relay greetings to you.”

“Oh?” Her voice held a wary note.

“Yes.” He gave her a mock-innocent smile. “We encountered a grubby, barely civilized girl down the road who claimed to know you.”

A flash of indignation crossed her face. Then her lips twitched. “An unflattering but accurate description of my friend.” Then she waved toward the others. “Please, introduce me to your friends.”

“Of course.”

As he made the introductions, he tried reading her mood. But she didn’t appear at all discomposed that they’d called her bluff and followed her out here.

Once the amenities had been satisfied, Miss Nash turned back to him, raising a brow in question. “I hope my grandfather was in good health when you saw him last.” Her tone was polite, but contained a hint of something else as well.

“He was his usual irascible self when we left Philadelphia.”

She nodded, and Adam was puzzled by the flash of relief in her expression. It seemed her question had been more than a casual inquiry.

“Then if you gentlemen will excuse my directness, may I ask what brings you to this remote location?”

Adam stilled, studying her expression carefully. Was this another delaying tactic?

But all he saw was puzzlement and suspicion. Did she truly not know what was going on?

“Are you telling me you never received your grandfather’s letter?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Either she was a very good actress or she had no idea what she was about to face. It appeared he owed the lady an apology for the unflattering thoughts he’d entertained about her these past few hours.

Then the full import of the situation hit him, and Adam swallowed several choice oaths. He’d have to explain the judge’s Machiavellian scheme to her. That wasn’t supposed to be part of his duties.

But this wasn’t her fault, either. “Then please forgive our intrusion. It’s unfortunate you didn’t receive proper warning of either our arrival or our purpose.”

Not sure what else to do, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the missive Judge Madison had entrusted to him. “Your grandfather asked me to give you this before we began serious discussions, so perhaps it would be best for us to start there. Then I can explain things to you in more detail.”

She took the paper from him, a crease marring her forehead.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. This didn’t feel right. How much had the judge put in the second letter? Would it make any sense to her if she hadn’t read the first? Maybe he should explain—

Everett cleared his throat. “While Miss Nash is reading the letter and Mr. Barr is making his explanations, perhaps the rest of us could take a look around. A walk would be welcome after that long ride.”

Adam wondered cynically if Everett’s offer came from a gentlemanly urge to give her some privacy to absorb the news, or a cowardly urge to distance himself from her reaction to it.

Whatever the man’s motives, he was immediately joined by the other two.

“Good idea,” Chance agreed hastily.

“My legs could do with a bit of stretching, too,” Mitchell added.

Their eagerness to exit the area was so obvious, Adam wasn’t surprised to see Miss Nash’s brow raise.

* * *

Uh-oh. Her visitors suddenly seemed like critters fleeing a brushfire. Reggie figured that meant only one thing.

They knew she wouldn’t like whatever she was about to learn from her grandfather’s letter.

“Of course,” she answered smoothly. She actually welcomed the chance to read the letter in private since she wasn’t known for having a poker face. “Mrs. Peavy, why don’t you escort them on a little tour of the area. I believe the south end of the lake would offer the best view.”

Not to mention keep them away from Jack. “Oh, and I think Buck would enjoy the walk as well.”

Reggie did her best to ignore the knowing look on Adam’s face. If only he wasn’t so perceptive. How could he have seen through her disguise so quickly? She was certain none of the others had. It would be better all the way around if he went along on that little walk.

But as Mrs. Peavy and the other three men headed away from the porch, Reggie stared at his I’m-not-budging demeanor and knew it would be wasted breath to even suggest he leave.

She sat on the porch swing, feeling his gaze on her. She couldn’t help but remember that little jolt of connection she’d felt when she realized he recognized her.

Forcing that thought aside, she opened the letter. Scanning quickly over the greeting, she searched for the promised explanation. Her gaze paused at the third paragraph.

Your desire to adopt Jack came as no surprise. However, though you have been like a mother to him since his infancy, we both know the bonds that unite you are those of affection, not blood. I am, in truth, the only blood relation Jack has left.

Reggie flinched. Regardless of what others thought, she was closer to Jack than anyone else—he was truly the child of her heart. She’d thought her grandfather understood.

I do not want Jack to grow up without a man in his life. It is important for a boy to have someone to teach him the proper lessons on his road to manhood, something you could not do on your own. My first impulse was to ask you to send him to me.

Reggie’s heart thumped erratically. Surely Grandfather wouldn’t take Jack from her.

I admit, however, that this solution has drawbacks. I’m no longer young. It is quite probable I won’t be around long enough to guide Jack into manhood.

Reggie breathed easier. She wasn’t overly concerned about the judge’s health—he’d used that bluff to get his way more than once. Even though he must be in his seventies, the old codger would probably outlive them all.

My next thought was to send him to boarding school. There are some fine institutions that would provide wonderful experiences for a boy such as Jack.

How could Grandfather consider such a thing? Those places were impersonal, sterile. Jack was too young—he still needed her. And she still needed him.

Of course, there is another option—to find you a husband.

Reggie sat up straighter, a different kind of dismay flooding through her as an inkling of the men’s mission sank in.

Surely she was mistaken. Even the judge wouldn’t—

Reggie glanced at Adam, then wished she hadn’t. That sympathetic glint in his expression was unnerving.

She swallowed hard and stared back down at the letter, hoping she’d misunderstood.

Naturally I am not suggesting you marry just any man. It must be someone worthy of you and Jack. Since you seem to have no interest in any of the eligible men there in Turnabout, I’ve taken it upon myself to find someone for you.

Grandfather was trying to play matchmaker.

Chapter Three

Reggie’s thoughts raced, skittering in several directions at once.

How could he? This was a farce, a disaster. It was too manipulative for even a schemer like her grandfather.

Didn’t he know that if she’d wanted a husband, she could have landed one a long time ago? Didn’t he trust her to raise Jack right and properly on her own?

Why would Adam agree to such a harebrained scheme? Did he think she was the best he could hope for since his conviction? Or was it more that he thought he owed the judge a debt of some sort?

Merciful goodness, did he or Grandfather know she’d once been infatuated with him?

Her cheeks flamed at the thought. Oh, why hadn’t Adam gone away with the others?

Pull yourself together. You will not fall apart in front of him.

Reggie forced herself to relax her grip on the letter, commanded her racing pulse to slow.

She continued reading, trying to grasp what this meant. But her mind kept circling to the men her grandfather had sent. Adam’s reasons for wanting to start over in a place where he wasn’t known were obvious, but what could induce the others to take part? Did they also have something they were running from?

Another paragraph snagged her attention. Grandfather was bribing them to court her. They would each get a nice little prize for their part in this farce.

How could Grandfather humiliate her this way?

She barely had time to absorb that when she got her next little jolt. Adam was not one of her suitors after all. Instead, he’d come as her grandfather’s agent.

But why wasn’t he a candidate for her hand? Not that she wanted the ex-lawyer for a suitor. But still—did he think she wasn’t good enough for him? Or was Grandfather not as certain of the man’s character as he pretended?

Flicking the paper with a snap, Reggie read on. Grandfather had tasked Adam with escorting her “beaus” to Turnabout, making sure everyone understood the rules of the game, and then seeing that the rules were followed.

It was also his job to take Jack back to Philadelphia if she balked at the judge’s terms. Her grandfather would then pick out a suitable boarding school for the boy, robbing her of even the opportunity to share a home with him in Philadelphia.

Reggie cast a quick glance Adam’s way, and swallowed hard. She had no doubt he would carry out his orders right down to the letter.

No! That would not happen. Even if it meant she had to face the humiliation of a forced wedding, she wouldn’t let Jack be taken from her.

And hang Grandfather, he knew it.

One last surprise was buried in the closing. It seemed the forewarning she was supposed to get had been Adam’s idea and the judge had only pretended to go along. There never had been another letter. Grandfather freely admitted this, saying he knew better than to give her time to begin plotting a way to avoid her fate.

It took every ounce of control she had not to crumple the letter and fling it as far as she could. Of all the emotions boiling through her right now, the strongest was a deep frustration that Grandfather wasn’t standing here so she could give him a piece of her mind.

Gathering her outrage about her like battle armor, Reggie stood. Her gaze locked with that of the man who suddenly wielded so much power over her life.

She would not let him know how deeply betrayed, how humiliated she felt. “I assume you know about this scheme of my grandfather’s?” The flicker of relief in his expression wasn’t lost on her.

Happy not to have to explain things, was he?

He crossed his arms and leaned back. “Yes.”

She stalked closer, displeased with his one-word answer. “Then you know how completely irrational he’s being.”

“The judge has never struck me as an irrational man.” He shrugged those broad shoulders of his. “Autocratic and overbearing perhaps, but not irrational.”

Reggie was no longer in the mood for word games. She shook the letter in his face. “You don’t think playing matchmaker in this heavy-handed fashion irrational?”

He didn’t even blink. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“Reasons!” Realizing she’d shouted, Reggie took a deep breath and tried again. “He’s asking me to choose between hog-tying myself to one of these strangers or losing Jack.”

He remained unmoved. “Arranged marriages happen all the time. At least you get three to choose from.”

Reggie wanted to scream, to pound her fists against his chest, to claw his eyes out. Was the man made of stone? She hadn’t expected an overabundance of sympathy, but his calm attitude was infuriating. “Would it surprise you to learn that Grandfather lied to you about sending me word ahead of time?”

His brow drew down, but there was no other visible reaction. “And how would you know this?”

She shoved the letter toward him, pointing to the pertinent paragraph. “Because he told me.”

Adam glanced at the letter and she saw a flicker of something cross his face. But when he looked up, his expression held that same unshakable determination. “As I said, I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Reggie was determined to cut through his indifference. “So what do you get out of this blackmail scheme?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

She moved closer. “According to the letter, your companions are getting nice incentives to participate.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “What form does your thirty pieces of silver take?”

His ice-blue eyes stared at her with irritating dispassion. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m doing this mainly because the judge asked me to, and I owe him.” He tipped his hat back and crossed his ankles. “It’s as simple as that.”

“You owe him?” Reggie lowered her arms and glared. How she itched to wipe that calm expression from his too-handsome face.

The fact that he could still stir something in her besides anger only made this whole mess more maddening.

Reggie sniffed. “Because he stood by you during the trial, you mean?”

If she’d wanted to get an emotional reaction from him, she’d finally succeeded. He stiffened, his jaw clenched, and he looked as if he’d like to throttle her.

* * *

Adam felt that sense of injustice, of being branded unclean, of honor lost, wash over him again. He’d expected to be the target of her emotions once she read the letter, could even admire her for reacting with outrage rather than helpless tears.

But her disdain gnawed at him.

Foolishly, he’d assumed Miss Nash shared her grandfather’s opinion on his conviction. The exchanges they’d had up until now had only reinforced that assumption. They’d been heated and challenging, but had seemed tempered by a degree of mutual respect.

Apparently he’d read her wrong.

So be it. He’d quit trying to change people’s minds about his innocence with mere words long ago. It was proof he needed, and proof he was determined to get. Just as soon as he finished this business and could get back to Philadelphia.

“The relationship I have with the judge,” he said evenly, “and what it’s based on, is also none of your business. As I’m sure it states in that letter you’re waving around, he trusts me enough to send me here to preside over this arrangement.”

“But not enough to be completely honest with you.”

He tightened his jaw, but let that barb pass. “What does concern you are the terms the judge outlined, and my duty to see them carried out as he intended.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So, just like that, I’m supposed to line up three strangers, look them over, and pick one to be my husband.”

If only she’d get it over with that quickly.

But an adversarial attitude wouldn’t help him. Time to use the two main tools he’d learned as a lawyer—reason and persuasion. “I understand this is not the best situation to find yourself in. But you must know your grandfather would never send you a man he didn’t have complete confidence in.”

She raised a skeptical brow and he hurried on. “That being so, it’s a given that any one of them should to make you a good husband. And they won’t be strangers forever. After all, you have two weeks to get to know them.”

The thought of having to cool his heels here even that long was frustrating. He’d already had to wait for what seemed an eternity.

“Two weeks,” she repeated, her voice ending on a squeak.

He grimaced as the color drained from her face. So, Judge Madison hadn’t put everything in his letter after all. Hang the old conniver for his sly games.

“According to the terms your grandfather has laid down,” he explained, “you have two weeks to select your groom, and then another week to plan your wedding.”

“All the time in the world,” she said bitterly.

She looked so brittle—vulnerable almost. He felt an unwanted stirring of sympathy, but pushed it ruthlessly aside.

“There’s no point fighting this,” he said, hoping she would see reason. “They’re all good men, but different enough to give you a real choice. I’m certain you’ll decide which you find most compatible in that period of time.”

“Are you now?” The vulnerable air evaporated, replaced by the scorching look and frigid tone she’d brandished before.

So much for his stirring of sympathy. Obviously, she could hold her own in any war of words.

“As for this contract—” her chin titled up at a militant angle “—I’m sure I’ll need time to study it, perhaps have a lawyer look it over, before I sign.”

He was here to help her through this. “I’d be glad to explain any—”

“I’d as soon ask a heathen to explain a scripture.”

Adam tightened his jaw. Taking a slow, deep breath, he decided to let that one pass as well. She’d been backed into a corner and it was only natural that she’d lash out.

“Have it your way. But don’t think by putting off signing you can delay the deadline. According to the judge’s instructions, your two weeks start when you meet your suitors.”

Suspicion flashed in her eyes. “Tell me, Mr. Barr, why did you drag those men out here rather than leave them in Turnabout and deliver the news alone? Or better yet, wait for me to return, since someone in town likely mentioned I’d be back inside of a week?”

She pointed a finger at him and he could almost see it tremble with the urge to poke him. “It was because you wanted to start the clock ticking on this ridiculous scheme as soon as possible, wasn’t it?”

The woman was too perceptive for her own good.

She must have sensed her words had hit their mark, because she tore into him again, this time her finger actually jabbing his chest to underline her words. “Of all the insensitive, ungentlemanly actions. You just couldn’t wait to deliver this little ultimatum.”

She gave his chest another jab. “You had to come racing out here to spoil our outing just so you could hurry things along.”

The woman presumed too much. Adam captured the offending finger. “Miss Nash, I haven’t claimed to be a gentleman in quite some time.”

Her eyes widened and a flush blossomed on her cheeks. Her reaction told him her aggressive contact had been unintentional. After another moment to make his point, he released her.

She snatched her hand back as if stung.

“What’s done is done,” he continued. “As you so eloquently stated, the clock has started ticking, and there’s no setting the hands back.”

It didn’t take her long to recover. Her shoulders drew back before he’d stopped talking.

“Doesn’t it matter that I don’t want a husband?” She flung the words like rocks. “That I think turning control of my life and possessions over to someone else simply because he’s a man is akin to slavery?”

She threw up her arms. “Why does every male think the sum total of a woman’s ambition should be to find someone to marry so she can go straight from her father’s care to her husband’s?”

He’d never met a female like her before. No wonder the judge felt compelled to take such a drastic step. “I personally don’t care a jot whether you marry one of these men or not. In fact, my only concern in this affair is to see that Judge Madison’s wishes are carried out.”

He leaned back again. “Now, part of his instructions was that I make certain your interests are protected—within the scope of his plans, of course. But that doesn’t mean I can let you ignore the rules. On that score I’ll be scrupulously, might I say ruthlessly, single-minded.”

By the stiffening of her spine, he knew she’d gotten the message.

“In other words, I’d advise you not to use any of your feminine wiles on me. It’ll do you no good to try to play on my sympathy. I have none. It’ll do you no good to try to bribe me. There’s nothing you could offer to make me betray the judge. And as for trying to seduce me—” he shrugged “—let’s just say it’d be wasted effort.”

From the way her hands curled, he’d guess he was lucky she didn’t have a club handy.

My, but the lady did have a temper.

“Mr. Barr.” She enunciated each word clearly. “I have no intention of using wiles, feminine or otherwise. I intend to be forthright in my dealings with you and the other gents, and I expect the same in return.”

She impatiently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and his focus shifted to the soft wisps framing her face. How long had it been since he’d stroked a woman’s hair?

He straightened abruptly and swallowed an oath. There was no room in his life right now for thoughts like that, especially when it came to the judge’s granddaughter.

Pushing away from the rail, he stepped down, wanting to put distance between them. “I’ll get the contract.”

He wondered, not for the first time, why Judge Madison hadn’t considered him as a suitor for his granddaughter. Not that Adam wanted to tie himself down with a wife right now—but it stung that he hadn’t been on the list of candidates. What did her grandfather see in the others that was missing in him? Had the time he spent in jail tarnished him in the judge’s eyes as well?

He had to clear his name soon. Only then would he have any chance of living a normal life.

“Grandfather actually expects me to sign a contract agreeing to his addle-pated plan?” The words bristled with outrage, a hint of the banshee they’d encountered earlier coming through.

“All parties to the contract are required to sign.” Adam jerked the packet from his satchel. “The other three signed it, I signed it, even your grandfather signed it. Now it’s your turn.”

She accepted the papers as if he’d handed her smelly rags. “I’ve never heard of the livestock being haggled over signing the bill of sale along with the buyer and seller.”

Her tongue was as sharp as any knife he’d wielded. She’d make a good lawyer. Adam was beginning to believe the judge had decided not to come for reasons other than the ones he’d stated. “If you refuse, then Jack and I board the next train to Philadelphia.”

She snapped the papers with a humph and started reading.

If she was looking for loopholes, she’d be disappointed. The judge had drawn up the document and then had Adam review every syllable. Adam would bet the horse he rode in on that it was ironclad.

Adam wondered which of the men would end up escorting the reluctant bride to the altar.

Everett seemed the best equipped to deal with her lethal tongue. The educated cynic would give as good as he got in that department. Then again, he might consider himself too sophisticated for a lady who appeared equally comfortable in overalls as a dress.

Mitchell, on the other hand, wouldn’t mind her provincial ways. He didn’t let much rattle him. Always searching for the middle ground, Mitchell had defused several tense moments during their trip. But did he have the determination required to deal with the overbearing Miss Nash? His size not withstanding, the woman would likely ride roughshod right over him.

If a peaceful life was what Mitchell wanted, he wouldn’t get it hitched to this virago.

That left Chance. The boy was younger than the potential bride, and rebellious enough to stand up to a riled bear, so Adam didn’t think she would intimidate him. Adam suspected, though, in a battle of wills, Miss Nash would come out the winner.

Besides, would it be fair to shackle the kid to a wife before he’d had a taste of the independence he so obviously craved?

Judge Madison had been adamant, though, that one of the men he was sending here was the perfect match for his granddaughter. He also insisted she would realize it herself, as soon as she bowed to the inevitable and got to know them.

Adam watched the emotions flash across her volatile features as she poured over the contract.

He wouldn’t want to be in the position the three others found themselves in, and he certainly wouldn’t want to be the one to have to do the picking.

* * *

Reggie stared at the contract, the words blurring into a meaningless jumble. There had to be a way out of this. Marriage wasn’t an option for her. It hadn’t been for a long time.

If only her grandfather had come himself so she could talk to him, could read his expression, hear the shades of meaning in his voice as they discussed this.

He’d never understood her easy acceptance of maiden aunt status, but she never dreamed he’d take things this far, even if he did believe it was “for her own good.”

Clearing her head from the useless what-ifs, Reggie forced herself to read the contract. It appeared to say the same thing as the letter, but in more formal terms. One thing she did learn, however, was exactly what each of her suitors stood to gain from the arrangement.

Everett Fulton would be set up with his own newspaper press, a first for Turnabout.

Mitchell Parker would be given a house in town and a job as teacher, thanks to the new wing the judge was having built onto the schoolhouse. Ahh, so that was the motive behind Grandfather’s unexpected altruism.

And, oddly enough, Chance Dawson was being given the burned out Blue Bottle Saloon and money to renovate it.

Plump carrots indeed. No wonder the men had agreed to take part in this backward marriage lottery. Not only were they being given fresh starts, but they would come into the community as men of consequence.

She glanced up to see Adam leading his horse to the shade of a nearby tree. At least he’d quit watching her with that unnerving stare.

He stretched and corded muscles strained against the confines of his shirt, muscles he’d no doubt acquired while in prison. A powerful reminder that this was not the same man she’d known all those years ago. This man was both powerful and dangerous.

Abruptly, Reggie turned her focus back to the contract. She had no reason to fear Adam—Grandfather would never have sent him here if he hadn’t trusted him completely.

Quickly finding her place, Reggie skimmed over the next few paragraphs. What it all boiled down to was that, in exchange for her grandfather’s generosity, the trio agreed to “court” her, to truthfully answer any questions about their past and their aspirations, and ultimately, each of them agreed to abide by her final selection without hesitation.

Reggie paused and reread that part. Now here was something she could use. She was no prize catch to start with. The fact that her grandfather had offered such extravagant bribes showed he thought so, too.

Best not to dwell on the sting of that right now.

Instead, she explored how she might take advantage of the small chink in the contract’s armor. If she could hone in on which of her would-be suitors was least enthusiastic about marrying her, and play up whatever would most intensify his reluctance, she might manage to get out of this yet. She just had to make sure, when she made her choice, the man in question would decide he was better off without the judge’s bribe than hitched to her.

Tricky, but she could pull it off. She had to.

Surely the judge wouldn’t follow through with his threat if she’d done her part? If nothing else, it would serve as a delaying tactic while she planned a countermove.

There was an interesting catch to the agreement—exactly the sort of stipulation her deviously-minded grandfather loved to impose. If the man she picked balked at the idea of marrying her, the deal was off for all of them. The trio were in this together.

If her plan worked, she would squash the dreams of not one but three men.

Reggie refused to feel even a smidgeon of guilt. If they truly wanted to start a new life in Turnabout, they didn’t need her grandfather’s backing to make it. They’d just have to do it with the sweat of their own brows rather than with handouts.

From what she’d seen, a stretch of hard work and diet of humble pie wouldn’t hurt any of them.

If they chose to turn tail and head back to Philadelphia rather than dig in and try to make a go of it on their own, well then, they deserved just what they got.

Reggie read the section that addressed Adam’s duties with returning indignation. She glanced up and caught him watching her, an admit-you’re-beaten expression on his face.

The earlier attraction she’d felt was extinguished as if it never existed. What had Grandfather been thinking to entrust this heart-of-stone man with so much power over her and Jack’s future? If the arrogant Mr. Barr thought he held all the cards, let him. She had no intention of showing her own hand just yet.

Feeling better now that she had a plan, Reggie lowered the contract and faced Grandfather’s henchman.

“Do I need to explain any of the legal terms to you?” he asked.

She shook her head. She’d changed her mind about hiring a lawyer. Given her options, she’d have no choice but to sign anyway. And there was no point risking having this humiliating situation made public. “I believe I understand the terms. Given my choices, I will, of course, sign the document.”

Seeing his satisfied smile, she couldn’t stop herself from adding, “But I must say, it proved interesting reading.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. Let him wonder what she had up her sleeve. It would work to her advantage if she could keep him off balance.

He nodded. “There are copies for each of us. Everyone has signed them but you.”

She would sign the contracts, all right. But Adam was sadly mistaken if he thought she would give in without a fight. Her take-no-prisoners campaign was just beginning.

* * *

Adam didn’t like the battle-ready expression Regina wore as she signed the papers. She’d seen something in the contract to raise her spirits, and that didn’t bode well for the judge’s plans. But what had she seen?

He’d have to take a closer look when he had a moment.

She handed the packet to him, holding one copy back for herself. Her fingers brushed against his—not drawing-room-smooth skin but feminine nonetheless.

“I imagine your friends have had enough time to stretch their legs.” She slid her copy into her dress pocket. “Shall I call them back?”

“Call them?” Surely they’d traveled too far for a simple hail?

With a schoolgirl grin, she placed two fingers between her lips and let out a piercing whistle, immediately followed by a second blast.

He winced at the shrill sound. “Are you in the habit of calling your people as if they were dogs?”

In the blink of an eye the schoolgirl transformed into an indignant woman. The heat in her cheeks complimented her dragon’s eyes.

“I do not treat people like animals.” She waved a hand. “We tend to scatter when we’re out here. The whistles are signals we’ve worked out to get each other’s attention.”

She took a deep breath and her expression lost its high emotion. “Mrs. Peavy knows two whistles means she’s wanted back at the cabin, and Mr. Peavy and Jack know they can ignore the call.”

As if to support her words, two answering blasts came from the distance.

“There,” she said, “that’s Mrs. Peavy signaling she heard me.” Dusting her skirt, she flounced down the steps. And promptly tripped on her hem.

Adam reacted on instinct, catching her before she could land at his feet. With his arms around her, their gazes locked. Her eyes widened and she gave a breathy little gasp that shot through him. Suddenly the world shrank around them as if they were figures in a water globe, the very air swirling around them.

He’d almost forgotten what it was like to hold a woman—to feel her softness, to breathe in her subtle fragrance, to watch the rosy flush of emotion bathe her cheeks.

An unexpected urge to tighten his embrace, to protect her, to kiss her, took hold of him. Not that he would do so—that would be madness.

But what would she do if he tried?

Chapter Four

Sharp barking shattered the glass of their water globe, bringing Adam back to earth with a crash.

Regina started and the color in her cheeks deepened.

He turned away, as much to regain his own composure as to allow her to regain hers.

What was wrong with him? She was the judge’s granddaughter and he was supposed to be looking out for her interests, not taking advantage of her. Even if he’d been interested in pursuing her—which he wasn’t—his whole reason for being here was to make sure she married one of the other men.

“Are you going to signal for Jack and Mr. Peavy also?” The question came out more sharply than he’d intended and he moderated his tone. “I’m sure the men would like to get to know the boy as well. After all, the one who wins your favor won’t just be gaining you as a wife, but also a son.”

“Not yet.” The steel was back in her voice. “I need to reach an understanding with you all on a few things before I bring Jack into this.”

Adam didn’t care for her tone. Did she think she was running this show?

Then he gave a mental shrug. She was probably as disconcerted by what had just happened as he was. Besides, he was merely an observer and enforcer. The three suitors would be the ones required to deal with her bossy ways.

And regardless of her posturing, she couldn’t get around the judge’s terms. She could toy with them all she wanted, he wouldn’t stop her. But in the end she’d have to submit to her grandfather’s dictates.

It would be interesting, though, to see what she meant when she said they needed to “reach an understanding.”

A few moments later, the hikers came into sight. Adam hid a grin as he got a good look at them. While Mrs. Peavy seemed totally composed, the trio trailing behind her did not.

Chance’s step lacked its usual bounce. Not surprising, given that his left leg, from the tip of his boot, to about six inches up his trouser leg, was damp and muddy.

Everett was red-faced and breathing heavily, as if unused to whatever exertions he’d just been through.

Mitchell had his sleeves rolled up and was vigorously scratching his left arm. Even from here Adam could see the angry red welts forming. Insect bites? Stinging nettles?

In any case, if it had been the housekeeper’s intent to take the visitors down a notch, she’d certainly succeeded.

Behind him he heard a softly uttered, “Oh, dear.” When he glanced back, he saw as much sympathy as amusement in Regina’s expression.

She stepped forward. “I hope you gentlemen enjoyed your walk.”

“Oh, we had a grand time,” Mrs. Peavy answered for them. “Did run into a bit of unpleasantness, though.” As she reached the porch, the housekeeper turned back to her entourage. “You gents have another glass of cider while I get something for Mr. Parker’s rash. Mr. Dawson, if you’ll slip off your boot, I’ll get it cleaned up.”

As Mrs. Peavy disappeared inside, the three men trudged onto the porch.

The judge’s granddaughter waved her hand in a lady-of-the-manor gesture. “Please be seated. There’s no need to stand on ceremony out here.”

Without further prompting, the men plopped down onto various benches and chairs. The wind had definitely been taken out of their sails.

But when Regina joined them on the porch, Adam was amused to note they all came to wary attention.

“Well, gentlemen,” she began, “now that I’ve read my grandfather’s letter and accompanying contract, it’s time we talked.”

Mrs. Peavy opened the door just then and hesitated. “Should I step back inside until you’re finished?”

To Adam’s surprise, Regina shook her head.

Not that it really mattered. With no panes on the window, the housekeeper would still be able to hear every word.

“I think it best you know what’s going on,” the soon-to-be bride said. “It seems these three were sent by my grandfather to start a new life in Turnabout. He’s generously providing each of them the means to join our little community as men of influence. All they have to do in return is participate in a marriage lottery, with me as the prize.”

Her tone was pleasant enough, but Adam watched each man shift uneasily under her stare. At the moment it was hard to believe she wasn’t Judge Madison’s blood kinswoman.

“For my part,” the self-proclaimed lottery prize continued, “all I have to do is select a groom and marry him within three weeks. Otherwise, Mr. Barr will take Jack to Philadelphia so Grandfather can ship him off to a boarding school.”

Mrs. Peavy’s reaction was an indrawn breath and a glare directed toward Adam.

“Did I sum the situation up correctly, gentlemen?” Regina crossed her arms across her chest and stared them down.

“I believe you covered the relevant facts,” Everett answered. The dandy had apparently recovered his aplomb.

“Thank you, Mr. Fulton. From a reporter, I’ll accept that as a compliment.”

Mrs. Peavy approached Mitchell and motioned for him to hold out his arm. She slathered her ointment on the rash with perhaps more vigor than was necessary, but the man bore it without flinching.

The judge’s granddaughter ignored this bit of by-play. “First off, to put things baldly, you should know I’m not happy with this situation. I’m not interested in getting married to anyone, much less a stranger who’s been bribed to offer for me.”

Her tone remained pleasant. Her expressive eyes, however, carried a different message.

“Grandfather couched his letter in polite terms, assuring me any one of you would happily step into the role of my husband. However, I have the distinct impression that the only vying you’ll do over the next few days is to see how best to avoid drawing the short straw.”

She met each of their gazes in turn. “Would any of you care to dispute that?”

When no one spoke up, she nodded and her tone hardened. “Well, it seems our wishes in this matter don’t amount to a hill of beans. My grandfather wants me hitched, and since he knows I’d do anything to keep Jack with me, it looks like wedding bells are in my future. But I want to make it plain from the get-go that I intend to call the shots in how we run this farce.”

Adam watched the men’s reactions.

Chance glared with sullen belligerence.

Mitchell, his forearm still an angry red, twisted his hat uneasily.

Everett, surprisingly, met her gaze with a condescending smile. “My dear Miss Nash,” he said with exaggerated deference, “there’s no need for such dramatic posturing. We are all agreed that the selection lies squarely with you, and we are firmly committed to abide by your decision. In fact, you can make the selection right here and now if you like.”

Everett shrugged. “Or you can keep us all guessing by drawing it out the full two weeks.” He half rose and executed a mocking bow. “We are entirely at your disposal.”

“Yes, you are.” Her expression conveyed quite clearly that she had something specific and very likely unpalatable in mind.

Adam tried not to grin. The lady had obviously learned a thing or two from the judge. If she had her way, these three would pay a steep price for their part in this scheme.

“Now that we’ve agreed who’s in charge,” she continued, “let’s get down to business. First and most importantly, under no circumstances is Jack or anyone else outside of this group to learn about our arrangement. As far as everyone in Turnabout is concerned, you are here as friends of my grandfather.”

She nodded as if making up the story as she went along. “I will, quite naturally, wish to see you comfortably settled, and you’ll return my neighborly attention with courtesy calls. My subsequent engagement to one of you will appear as a delightfully unexpected result of those calls.”

She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Did her finger tremble slightly or was that his imagination?

“I read the contract,” she continued, “and it clearly states that you are to court me, and I intend to see that you do it properly. I want it all, gentlemen—attention, pretty words, love tokens, flowers and gewgaws.”

Her gaze sharpened. “And I expect a good faith effort from you. No just going through the motions, no begrudging attentions. You have to actually vie for my favors.”

Her color heightened, but her tone never faltered. “It has to look and feel real to everyone who sees us. And I’ll not have a reluctant martyr for a husband. If I get even a hint that any of you are holding back, I’ll cry foul, and Mr. Barr here will have no choice but to tell my grandfather you failed to abide by the terms of the contract.”

She swung around and met Adam’s gaze. “Isn’t that so?”

Adam had labored over that contract to get exactly the nuances Judge Madison wanted, and he had it all but memorized by the time they were both satisfied. He mulled it over in his mind now, and slowly nodded his head. “One could interpret the terms that way.”

Was that her plan? Well, she’d have to come up with some pretty convincing proof to get him to disqualify anyone, unless that suitor out-and-out refused her selection.

Besides, the judge had done a thorough job of interviewing candidates before settling on these three. They all knew what was expected. Adam would be more than a little surprised if anyone backed down at this point.

But he was an observer, not a confidante. If they couldn’t figure out she was all bluster, that was their problem.

She clearly intended to extract her pound of flesh in terms of their pride. And she wanted pretty words and showy trinkets, even if they were insincerely offered.

A typical woman.

Well, he’d be watching her. With the power the judge had given him, he wouldn’t hesitate to whisk Jack away to Philadelphia if she gave him reason to. But the judge had made it clear that wasn’t the outcome he desired.

Regina nodded. “Okay gentlemen, then let’s open the curtain on my grandfather’s ridiculous play. I’ll call Jack, and I expect you to honor your word. You’re friends of my grandfather visiting from Philadelphia and are here paying your respects.”

At some point, Mrs. Peavy had slipped into the cabin to put away her ointment. Now she stepped back outside and set Chance’s freshly cleaned boot next to the door.

Regina gave her housekeeper a quick nod, then turned back to the men. “It’s too late for you to return to Turnabout today, so you’ll be spending the night here. We’ll head back together in the morning.”

She lifted her chin. “We’re not set up for visitors, though. Mrs. Peavy and Ira sleep in the alcove off the kitchen and Jack and I share the loft. That means you can either spend the night on the cabin floor or here on the porch.

Adam failed to detect any sympathy in her tone. It seemed she intended to make sure the hapless trio jumped through some unpleasant hoops over the next few weeks.

He had to hand it to her, she wasn’t one to wring her hands and bemoan her fate when faced with unpleasantness. Instead, she showed amazing determination.

If he wasn’t in such a hurry to get back to Philadelphia he could find himself amused by her performance.

* * *

Reggie paused, reluctant to take the next step. But she’d put it off long enough. “I suppose it’s time for you to meet the rest of my household.”

She stepped off the porch. Taking a deep breath, she blasted out a long, drawn-out whistle, followed by two shorter ones.

The answering whistles confirmed Ira and Jack were headed their way. Reggie forcibly relaxed her hands at her sides, but she didn’t turn back to her visitors.

She had to fight the urge to tense again when Buck stood, his tail wagging in anticipation. For Jack’s sake, she must pretend nothing was wrong, that these men were welcome guests. But if they did anything to upset Jack...

Grandfather, you’re going to have a lot to answer for next time we meet.

Ira and Jack appeared a moment later, and the dog bounded forward to greet them. Jack danced around with Buck for a minute, trying to keep the string of fish he carried out of harm’s way. Not an easy task for a slender six-year-old. “Look at all the fish we caught, Aunt Reggie,” he said rushing forward, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement.

“My goodness!” Reggie smiled down at the light of her life. “It looks like we’re going to have some mighty good eating tonight.”

“I caught more’n half of them myself.”

Ira, hunting rifle slung over his shoulder, hefted the two cane poles he carried in his other hand. “Our boy is turning into quite a fisherman, all right.” His words were addressed to Reggie but his gaze was fixed on the men behind her.

Mrs. Peavy joined them and reached for the string of fish. “Here, let me have those. I’ll get them cleaned and ready to cook.” She bobbed the string, as if gauging the weight. “Yes, sir, add a few potatoes and that cobbler I baked this morning and we’ll have more than enough to feed everybody.”

Jack seemed to notice the visitors for the first time. “Hello.”

Adam stepped forward. “You must be Jack.”

“Yes sir.” Jack seemed more curious than concerned.

Reggie stepped behind Jack, pulling him against her skirts with a hand on each shoulder. “Jack, these men have come all the way from Philadelphia for a visit.” She managed to keep her voice friendly enough. “This one is Mr. Barr. The others are Mr. Fulton, Mr. Parker and Mr. Dawson.”

Each man nodded acknowledgment as she called his name.

“Gentlemen, this is Jack.” She nodded over her shoulder. “And the other fisherman is Mrs. Peavy’s husband, Ira.”

“Hydee, fellas,” Ira welcomed. “You all are a ways from home, aren’t you?”

Reggie smiled as she saw a few brows go up. If they had expected the wiry old handyman to act like one of her grandfather’s servants, they now knew better. Ira and Mrs. Peavy were like part of her family.

“Do you know Grandfather Madison?” Jack asked before anyone could respond to Ira’s question.

“We sure do.” Again it was Adam who spoke up. “And he wanted us to make certain we told you he said hello and that he wishes he could have come.”

Reggie barely swallowed her snort of disbelief. The old coot had never set foot in Turnabout before. And she sure as sunshine knew this particular trip was one he hadn’t wanted to be along on.

“Is that why y’all came all the way out here?”

“Jack,” Reggie warned. “It’s not polite to pester our guests with questions.”

“That’s all right.” Adam brushed Reggie’s concern aside and met Jack’s gaze again. “How’s a fellow to find out anything if he doesn’t ask. And yes, Jack, that’s one of the reasons we came out here. I promised your great-grandfather to deliver that message just as soon as I arrived in Turnabout.”

Jack glanced up over his shoulder. “Are they staying here with us, Aunt Reggie?”

“Just for tonight. We’re all going back into town tomorrow.”

That brought a frown to the boy’s face. “But I thought we were gonna stay another two days,” he protested.

She ruffled his sandy red hair. “I know. But you don’t mind leaving a bit early, do you? This cabin wasn’t built to hold more than a few folk. As it is, our guests are going to have to sleep on the floor tonight.” Not that she gave a fig for the four men’s comfort. She was more concerned with the wagging tongues back home.

“Besides, our visitors are eager to get settled in town, and we wouldn’t want to send Grandfather Madison’s friends off without our help, would we?”

“No, ma’am.” He turned back to the men. “If you like, you can go frogging with me and Ira tonight.”

Pride shimmered through Reggie. That was her boy—quick to get over his disappointment and generously willing to include the troublemakers in his fun.

“Frogging?” The question came from Mr. Fulton.

“Yes, sir,” Jack said with a nod. Then, apparently realizing an explanation was in order, “You know, hunting bullfrogs. If we catch enough, Mrs. Peavy promised to fry up some frog legs for lunch tomorrow.”

Reggie didn’t bother to hide her grin at the sight of the dandy’s horrified expression.

“Sounds like fun.” The young Mr. Dawson was obviously not as squeamish. “I’ve never hunted frogs before.”

“Don’t worry. Me and Ira’ll teach you,” Jack promised.

Reggie gave Jack’s shoulders a light squeeze then stepped back and dropped her hands. “You go along and help Ira put away the fishing gear. Then see if Mrs. Peavy needs any kindling brought in.”

She turned to the others. “I’m afraid we live a pretty simple life out here. Not much to offer you in the way of fancy amenities, and everyone pitches in to help with the chores. There’s a place around back where you can feed and tend to your horses. Then you can get washed up down by the lake if you’ve a mind to.”

“I’ll take care of the horses and the buggy,” Mr. Parker volunteered.

Adam straightened. “Thanks, but I’ll take care of Trib myself.”

“Come along then,” Ira instructed. “Jack and I’ll show you where we keep the feed.”

Reggie watched them disappear around the corner, then turned to her two remaining guests. “You’ll find some buckets on the other side of the porch. I’d appreciate it if you’d each grab one and go down to the lake to fetch some fresh water. We’ll be needing it to clean the dishes and the like later.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chance immediately stood and reached for his still-damp boot.

Mr. Fulton didn’t respond right away, but at her unblinking stare, he finally gave a short, mocking bow and turned to grab the bucket.

As the two headed down the trail, Reggie found herself alone for the first time since the men had swooped into her life like hounds on the scent of game.

Feeling suddenly tired beyond reckoning, she sagged down on the porch step and put her chin on her knees.

It wasn’t fair! The pieces of her life had just started to fall into place. With Lemuel’s passing, God rest his soul, she was independent, answerable to no one for the first time in her twenty-three years. Her grandfather had known how restricted she felt living in her brother-in-law’s household, and how she’d only stayed there to be close to Jack.

Now, to have that sweet, newfound freedom snatched away before she’d had time to truly savor it was more than cruel. It was downright spiteful.

Grandfather, why did you do this to me?

Chapter Five

As Adam followed Ira and Jack around the cabin, he studied the older man, trying to sort through the jumble of contradictory impressions he presented.

Though nearly bald and sporting a chin full of gray whiskers, the housekeeper’s husband was as spry as a schoolboy. His leathery skin and crow’s feet were offset by eyes that shone as blue and clear as a newborn’s.

Slightly built and a head shorter than Adam, he had a puckish quality about him. Maybe it had something to do with that glint of a gold tooth Adam had spotted earlier, or with the abundance of laugh lines bracketing his mouth.

A flash of color distracted Adam from his musings.

What in the world...

He stopped dead in his tracks, blinking at the exotic contraption perched beside the small feed crib.

It was a wagon, he finally decided. But he’d never seen its like outside of a circus parade. To call it gaudy was doing it a kindness.

From this angle, only the back and part of one side was visible, but it was enough. More than enough. Not only was the caravan-style conveyance painted in garish shades of green, maroon and gold, but it was constructed in an overblown design, complete with exuberant scrollwork and elaborately carved panels.

“What kind of rig is that?”

Adam tore his gaze away from the flamboyant sight long enough to glance at Mitchell over his shoulder. The man wore a bemused, dumbfounded expression. Adam realized his own was probably similar.

“Looks like a circus wagon,” he said, stroking Trib’s nose. “Though what it’s doing out here—”

Ira, dusting his hands after sliding the fishing poles up under the eaves of the crib, grinned. “I see you spied Reggie’s photography wagon. She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”

Photography wagon? Adam led Trib forward with a click of his tongue. “Did she inherit it from her father?”

The balding leprechaun cackled. “You didn’t know Reggie’s daddy, did you? Warren Nash would never have been caught driving such a fanciful contraption as this. Plain and simple was more his style.”

Ira Peavy patted the wagon as if it were an old friend. “No, Reggie designed this herself after one of them traveling circuses passed through here.”

She’d actually intended it to look like this? Miss Nash was either as bereft of taste as she was of singing ability, or she had a wicked sense of humor.

“It’s the fanciest wagon in all of Turnabout,” Jack announced proudly. “Everyone stops to stare when we pass by.”

“That I’ll believe,” Mitchell muttered.

“So, your aunt’s a photographer, is she?” Adam asked Jack.

“Yes, sir. Photographs people mostly. But she does plants and animals, too. Some of ’em turn out real pretty.” He gave Adam a big smile. “I’ll bet she’d be glad to take a picture of you and your friends if you wanted.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Adam responded noncommittally. He knew her father had been a photographer, and Judge Madison had mentioned something about her following in her father’s footsteps. But Adam had assumed it was a slightly eccentric pastime of hers, something she toyed with when she was bored, the way other women did with watercolors or the piano.

But if she’d gone to the trouble of designing her own wagon...

“You’ll find feed for the horses over here,” Ira said, interrupting Adam’s thoughts. “You can water them down by the lake and there’s lots of good grazing there as well. I’m afraid the lean-to is only big enough for our two horses, so you’ll have to tether yours under the trees tonight. Weather’s fair, though, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Mitchell set to work unhitching the horse from the buggy. “We appreciate your hospitality,” he said over his shoulder.

Before Adam could unsaddle Trib, he found Jack at his elbow. “Mighty fine-looking horse you got there, mister.”

The youngster’s words might mimic something he’d heard an adult say, but the look on his face was pure wide-eyed, little-boy awe.

“Thanks.” Adam offered Jack a friendly smile. Winning the boy’s trust was important right now. It might make things easier on both of them later on if this marriage scheme fell apart. “Maybe I’ll let you ride him sometime before I head back to Philadelphia,” he added.

Jack’s face split in a wide grin. “Jiminy! Did you hear that, Ira? Dewey Jenkins is gonna be toad-green jealous when he sees me riding this horse.”

“I heard,” Ira answered. “But don’t forget you’ve got to get your Aunt Reggie to agree first.”

Adam frowned, studying Ira’s expression. Had he said that because Miss Nash was overly cautious where her nephew was concerned? Or had the older man picked up on the fact that she distrusted Adam and wouldn’t think highly of any plan he put forward that involved Jack?

Jack, however, seemed unworried. “Aw, Aunt Reggie won’t mind. She was talking the other day about how I was the man of the family now and all.”

Ira squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “We’ll see.” Then he gave the boy a mild swat on the seat of his pants. “Now off with you and fetch that kindling like your aunt asked. Don’t want to be holding up supper.”

With a nod and a wave, Jack headed for the wood stacked near the cabin’s back door.

Ira waited until the boy was out of earshot, then turned to Adam and Mitchell. Nothing puckish about him now. His arms crossed unyieldingly over his chest, and his expression gave him a surprisingly dangerous look. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but Reggie obviously didn’t want it talked about in front of Jack. Either one of you fellas care to fill me in?”

Adam shrugged. “We’re here at Judge Madison’s request. Other than that, I think it would be best if you hear the story from Miss Nash herself.”

“Fair enough,” Ira answered. “But there’s something you need to know. I went to work for Warren Nash over thirty years ago. I was around when Reggie was born and I helped Warren take care of her after her momma died. When Warren lay on his deathbed, I gave him my word I’d look after her as if she were my own.” He paused a moment. “And I’m still keeping my word, to this day.”

Adam met his gaze levelly. “Understood.”

Their gazes remained locked for several heartbeats. Then Ira uncrossed his arms and the friendly, amused-at-the-world grin returned. “Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way, I’ll leave you to care for your animals.” With a wave, he headed around to the front of the cabin, whistling a jaunty tune.

“Did that little gnome just draw a line and dare us to cross it?” Mitchell’s expression was a mixture of disbelief and admiration.

Adam bent to work the straps on Trib’s saddle. “It seems he’s as protective of Miss Nash as his wife is.” He gave Mitchell a sideways glance. “A man could look for worse in a wife than one who inspires such loyalty.”

It was a lesson he himself had learned the hard way.

* * *

“Amen.” Jack finished his prayers and clambered onto his pallet.

Reggie drew the bedsheet up to Jack’s chin, ruffling his soft brown hair as she did so. She’d tried not to roll her eyes when he’d included their four visitors in his litany of people and things to be thankful for.

“So, how did the frogging go tonight?” she asked.

“We bagged a whole sack full of big ole’ bullfrogs.” Jack snuggled down on the pallet. “Mrs. Peavy’s gonna have more’n enough to feed us all tomorrow.”

“And were our visitors much help?”

“Mr. Barr got the hang of it pretty quick and caught his share. And I think maybe Mr. Parker has gone frogging before.” Jack paused and looked at Reggie with wide eyes. “He sure is a big one, isn’t he?”

“That he is,” she said carefully. Did the man’s size intimidate Jack?

Jack, however, merely yawned. “Mr. Dawson seemed to really have fun, but Ira said he had a bad case of the flibbertigibbets.”

“And Mr. Fulton?”

“He just took care of watching the sack for us.” Jack frowned. “I don’t think he likes getting his hands dirty.”

Reggie hid a smile. Only a few hours in their company and it seemed the six-year-old already had the men accurately pegged. “Mr. Fulton probably hasn’t had much experience with outdoor life.”

She patted the covers. “Settle down and get some sleep. I’m going to see if Mrs. Peavy or Ira need any help settling our guests in.”

Reggie gave Jack a quick peck on the cheek, then turned and climbed down the loft ladder. “Well,” she said as she stepped off the bottom rung, “where are our visitors?”

Mrs. Peavy set down a bundle of sheets and blankets on the dining table. “Mr. Barr herded them outside. He insisted they allow us some privacy to settle in.” She gave Reggie a questioning look. “They’re not used to roughing it the way we are. It don’t feel neighborly making them sleep on the floor while we take the ticking.”

Reggie shrugged. “It’s not as if we have much else to offer.” She raised a hand. “And don’t even think about offering up your and Ira’s bed. It’s not big enough for all of them anyway.” She pulled the pins from her hair and shook it free. Ahh, that felt good. “Besides, it’s just for one night. They’ll survive.”

“Confound it!”

The British-accented exclamation, accompanied by the sound of a slap, easily penetrated the netting-covered windows.

“Hang propriety, Barr,” Mr. Fulton grumbled. “These mosquitoes are as big as bats and thick as an English fog. We’re getting eaten alive out here.”

“For once I agree.”

That sounded like the young Mr. Dawson.

“Take a step toward that door before I say you can,” Adam replied pleasantly, “and I’ll see that you sleep out here with your winged friends tonight.”

Reggie raised a brow. She hadn’t expected such gallantry from Adam.

“Sounds like your grandfather picked the right man for the job,” Ira remarked.

Reggie reluctantly agreed.

Mrs. Peavy tsked and made shooing motions. “Now stop this dawdling, both of you. We may not be able to offer them more than a floor tonight, but there’s no need to make them suffer more than necessary.”

Reggie nodded and climbed back up the ladder. She could tell by the sound of Jack’s breathing he was already asleep. Changing for bed, she lay down on her own straw-stuffed ticking. A second later, Ira dimmed the lamp and invited the men back inside.

Reggie stared at the rafters in the shadowy moonlight and listened to the men bedding down on the floor just scant feet below her.

If her grandfather had his way, one of these strangers would soon be her husband, would have the right to share her life.

Reggie rolled to her side and cradled her cheek on one arm, trying to encourage her weary body to relax enough for sleep to overtake her.

Unbidden, the memory of being caught up in Adam’s arms as she tripped tiptoed into her thoughts. For a few moments this afternoon she’d once more been that moonstruck schoolgirl who considered him a white knight.

Stop it! Remember what’s at stake.

Reggie flopped over and fluffed up her pillow. She closed her eyes and forced herself to remember Adam saying I’ll be scrupulously, might I say ruthlessly, single-minded.

She didn’t doubt for a minute he’d meant every syllable of his vow.

Some masculine grumbling drifted up from below. If the unimaginable happened and she had to actually make a choice, which man would she end up with?

Heavenly Father, I know I’ve been mostly a disappointment to You, but please help me figure out how to handle this. If not for me, then for Jack’s sake. I couldn’t stand to see him hurt by any of this.

As Reggie finally drifted off to a troubled sleep, her three suitors whirled through her dreams, twirling her in a dizzying square-dance.

And above it all stood Adam Barr, playing the fiddle and calling the moves.

* * *

Adam trailed behind Chance as they climbed the footpath from the lake to the cabin in the early morning light. The kid had more of a spring to his step now than when they had headed down just past dawn. Apparently the night spent on the cabin floor hadn’t done any permanent damage.

Chance had even perked up enough to whistle.

Adam tightened his grip on his shaving gear, sourly wondering what his companion had to be so cheery about. He certainly didn’t find the situation any more palatable today than yesterday. In fact, if anything, he was more eager to get this assignment over and done with than before.

The members of this unorthodox household had been unfailingly polite to their guests last night. But all through the simple supper and homey conversation, Adam had felt like a boorish trespasser, an infidel invading a peace-loving land. It was as if Regina had gone out of her way to show the four “Easterners” just what a happy home they were about to invade and destroy.

Adam nearly slammed into Chance as the young man halted in the middle of the trail.

“What—” Chance’s bit off exclamation ended in a long drawn-out whistle.

Adam, peering past the startled young man, grinned wryly. While they were down at the lake getting cleaned up for breakfast, Ira had driven the gaudy wagon around to the front of the cabin.

Here in the bright morning sunlight it presented an even more startling spectacle than it had in the evening shade yesterday. For one thing, he could see the front now. The wagon’s roof extended over the seat, shading a pale pink upholstered bench. The sides extended past that same seat in a double set of quarter-moon-like scallops. It made the driver’s box appear to be the inside of some exotic seashell. Combined with its other flamboyant features, the vehicle had all the finesse of a clown at a funeral.

“I see you’ve noticed my studio on wheels.”

Regina, arms wrapped around a small crate, stepped down from the porch. She handled her awkward burden with more ease than Adam normally expected from a woman. It should have made her appear mannish. Instead, it gave her a sort of stately grace.

“Quite striking, don’t you think?”

It took him a heartbeat to realize she was talking about the wagon. Clearing his throat, he reined in his wayward thoughts. And realized her eyes glinted with the hint of mischief.

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