Chase (Prairie Grooms, Book Four) Read online

  Chase

  Prairie Grooms, Book Four

  by

  Kit Morgan

  ANGEL CREEK PRESS

  Chase

  (Prairie Grooms, Book Four)

  by Kit Morgan

  Copyright 2014 Kit Morgan

  Find other titles by Kit Morgan Including:

  The Prairie Bride Series:

  His Prairie Princess (Prairie Brides, Book One)

  Her Prairie Knight (Prairie Brides, Book Two)

  His Prairie Duchess (Prairie Brides, Book Three)

  Her Prairie Viking (Prairie Brides, Book Four)

  His Prairie Sweetheart (Prairie Brides Book Five)

  Her Prairie Outlaw (Prairie Brides Book Six)

  Christmas in Clear Creek (Prairie Brides, Book Seven)

  The Holiday Mail Order Bride Series:

  The Christmas Mail Order Bride (Book One)

  The New Year's Bride (Book Two)

  His Forever Valentine (Book Three)

  Her Irish Surrender (Book Four)

  The Springtime Mail Order Bride (Book Five)

  Love in Independence (Book Six)

  Coming in September:

  Love at Harvest Moon (Book Seven)

  Prairie Grooms:

  August (Prairie Grooms, Book One)

  Ryder (Prairie Grooms, Book Two)

  Seth (Prairie Grooms, Book Three)

  Chase (Prairie Grooms, Book Four)

  Coming in September:

  Levi (Prairie Grooms, Book Five)

  For more about Kit Morgan, follow her on her Face Book Page

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people are purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Angel Creek Press, The Killion Group and Hotdamndesigns.com

  To all those who have felt the whips of loneliness, and understood what a hard master it can be when left to its own devices. Such a thing should never be our master, for it instills in us a drive to do things we would never normally do …

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  About the Author

  The Weaver Farm, 1871

  Benjamin and Calvin Weaver sat on a log by the small creek that cut through their land. Its gurgling-bubbling sounds soothed their minds and calmed them whenever they felt troubled or upset. But today, they were neither, and instead sought the peacefulness of the water’s edge to help them digest the stories Deputy Tom Turner of Nowhere had told them the night before. Tom and his wife Rose had come to the Weaver farm for the specific purpose of telling these tales, and the two young men (identical twins, mind you) felt equally … ah … well, they felt something, but were baffled as to what.

  “You got a kinda empty feelin’ in the pit of yer belly?” Calvin asked his brother.

  “Sure do,” said Benjamin, shaking his head. “Don’t rightly know why though. It’s just there.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Calvin. “I don’t like it much, myself.”

  “What do ya think it’s from?”

  “Don’t know. Mine didn’t start until we sat and listened to Tom tell us about those three mail-order brides.”

  “You reckon them stories are makin’ us sick?” asked Benjamin.

  “I’m not feelin’ sick, exactly,” said Calvin. “But I sure do feel … I dunno, hollow inside.”

  “You think Arlan’s feelin’ the same thing? Or Daniel?” asked Benjamin.

  “Don’t know, why don’t we ask them?”

  “I ain’t ready to go back to the house yet. I’d rather we sit here a spell.”

  “Won’t have to go back, there’s Arlan over there,” said Calvin and pointed. Their older brother approached from the other side of the creek. Tom Turner walked at his side. Arlan had been showing Tom around the farm that morning, and now they’d reached the twin’s favorite spot.

  “Mornin’ boys!” Arlan called across the creek. There was a narrow foot-bridge they’d constructed years ago. He crossed it, Tom right behind him, and joined his two brothers on the log.

  Tom stood a moment and glanced around. “Now this here’s a might pretty spot.” He turned to the three brothers. “Fine place for sparkin’ with a pretty gal.”

  Arlan laughed. “That it is.”

  Calvin screwed his face up at him. “You been bringin’ your wife down here to our log?”

  “It’s my log too,” Arlan countered. “And so what if I have? Samijo likes it here.”

  “Nothin’s sacred anymore,” complained Benjamin.

  “I think my wife Rose would call this place romantic,” commented Tom. “I could do with some sparkin’ here.”

  Calvin groaned.

  “What’s the matter with you?” asked Arlan.

  “Stop talkin’ about sparkin, it makes my belly feel worse.”

  “You sick?” asked Tom.

  “Nah, he ain’t feelin good on account …” Benjamin snapped his mouth shut. He didn’t want to tell their guest his stories were making his brother and him feel … funny.

  Arlan eyed them, and studied their faces with a keen eye. His face suddenly lit with comprehension. “So, want to listen to another one of Tom’s stories before we have to go back up to the house for breakfast?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Benjamin as he rubbed his belly.

  Arlan noticed the tips of his brother’s ears turn pink, and smiled. “What, you mean to tell me you don’t want to hear any more stories about pretty gals comin’ to Clear Creek to get married?”

  Benjamin rolled his eyes. “I don’t know …”

  Tom caught the younger man’s look of longing. It was there but a second, but he knew it well enough. He glanced at Arlan to see if he’d also caught it. Sure enough, his eyes were intent on those of his brother’s. “Ya know one of the main reasons a man sends away for a mail-order bride is cause he don’t want to be lonely. Sure, havin’ a couple of brothers to work with, fight with, and live with is fun. But it don’t hold a candle to having a woman at yer side.”

  Benjamin and Calvin looked at Tom and gawked.

  “Yep, nothing beats the warm curves of a woman on a cold winter’s night,” added Tom with a sly smile. “But a man has to be ready before he takes on the responsibility of a bride.”

  “You mean like August, Ryder, and Seth?” Calvin asked.

  “That’s exactly what I mean. Look what happened cause Ryder wasn’t as ready as he thought he was? Or Seth? You know, how he wasn’t ready to let Eloise know about his past?”

  “What about August?” asked Benjamin. “How was he not ready?”

  “Oh he was ready for a bride, but his bride wasn’t sure if she was ready for him!” laughed Tom. “The point is, boys, you gotta be ready for a woman in more ways than one. And it starts here,” he said and jabbed at his chest with a thumb.

  “You talkin’ about yer heart?” asked Benjamin.

  “Yep.”

  Calvin’s mouth twisted up to one side. “How do ya know when that’s ready?”

  “Kinda goes in stages,” said Tom as he winked at Arlan. “First ya kinda start to feelin’ all funny inside, especially when yer around a pretty gal.”

  Benjamin and Calvin glanced at each other, then gave their attention back to him. “How so?” asked Benjamin.

&nbs
p; “Yer gut tightens, yer knees get wobbly, and ya want to kiss her,” he said. “Ain’t that right, Arlan?”

  Arlan bit his lip to keep from laughing, and nodded.

  “But it’s after ya seen a gal, that the real stuff starts,” added Tom.

  “What kind of stuff?” asked Calvin.

  Tom’s face became serious. “Ya feel …” he shrugged. “Empty inside.”

  The twins looked at him, horrified, and jumped up from the log. “What?” Benjamin croaked. “Ya mean this achin’ in my belly ain’t from eatin’ too much pie last night?”

  Tom looked him over carefully. “Ya ever eat seven pies all at once?”

  “No.”

  “Now that’ll give ya belly ache. But if’n ya got a empty feelin’ in your belly, and ya can’t figure out what it is, then boy, you’ve been bit.”

  “Bit?” Calvin squeaked. “By what?”

  Arlan’s shoulder began to shake, and it was all he could do to stay seated. He looked away and bit the inside of his cheek before he burst out laughing. He knew Tom’s stories would affect the twins. They were young men, but hadn’t been exposed to many women other than their mother. Having his new wife Samijo around helped, but to hear three tales of romance from Tom’s home town of Clear Creek was bound to do something to them.

  “By the bug!” said Tom, his voice serious.

  “Bug? Ya mean like a big ol’ spider?” asked Calvin, worry in his voice. The young man would wrestle a bear to the ground, but when it came to spiders …

  “No, not like a spider!” said Tom. “I’m talkin’ about something a lot worse than a spider!”

  Calvin paled. Benjamin, on the other hand, cocked his head in curiosity. “What ya talkin’ about?”

  Tom sighed. “Loneliness, boys. And it’s got a mighty painful bite. Ya feel it, right here in the pit of yer belly,” he said and rubbed his stomach for emphasis.

  Benjamin plopped down on the log again. “I think I’ve been bit, then. I ain’t felt right since last night.”

  Tom nodded as Arlan faced them, his laughter stilled by the forlorn look on Benjamin’s face. “Yeah, it starts in the belly like that,” said Tom. “Then travels up into yer chest and settles itself there.”

  “Does it keep ya awake at night?” asked Calvin.

  “Yes,” said Arlan before Tom could answer. “A lot of nights.”

  “Is that why you sent away for a mail-order bride?” Benjamin asked him.

  Arlan looked his brother in the eye. He nodded and sighed. “But there are a lot more reasons to send away for a wife.”

  “Like what?”

  “Cookin’ for one,” said Tom. “Not to mention someone to do the washin’, keep the house clean, and …”

  “And?” asked the twins in unison.

  Arlan looked at them and smiled. “You’ll find out when you’re married.”

  Two sets of brows rose as comprehension dawned. Tom laughed. “You two remind me of Chase Adams and Levi Stone.”

  “Didn’t they send away for mail-order brides too?” asked Calvin.

  “Yep, sure did,” said Tom. “And their brides got to Clear Creek sooner than anyone expected on account they had one Imogene Sayer escortin’ them from England to America.”

  Now it was Arlan’s turn to look at him. “Imogene Sayer? Who’s that?”

  “She was married to one of Anthony Sayer’s other cousins, a might wealthy man in his own right. But that weren’t nothin’, Imogene was a wealthy heiress. In fact, she had more money than the Duke as I recall. At least that’s what Colin Cooke told me once.”

  “How much money?” asked Benjamin.

  “Enough to travel the world,” said Tom. “And she did. After her husband died, she traveled all over Europe, and lived a lot of years in someplace called India.”

  “Why did she go to Clear Creek?” Calvin asked.

  “Because America was someplace she hadn’t been, and thought it the perfect opportunity to go. So she offered to act as chaperone to her three young relatives, and see them safely to Clear Creek.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Arlan. “They didn’t have any other escort? Only this Imogene?”

  Tom laughed. “Well, Imogene was no ordinary lady. She’d go on tiger-hunts, and rode an elephant. She could shoot, too.”

  “Sounds like a right nice gal!” Calvin quipped.

  Tom laughed. “Yeah, if ya like the cranky, high and mighty type. If you thought Penelope Sayer was uppity, she was nothin’ compared to Imogene. She might have been old enough to be a mother to them gals, but she was full of spunk. She even put Mrs. Dunnigan in her place once.” Tom took in their looks of shock. “Only once,” he added.

  “How’d they make it all the way to Clear Creek without a man?” asked Benjamin. “I thought women couldn’t be on a wagon train unless they was married.”

  “They didn’t come by wagon train. They came by ship, all the way to Oregon City, then used the stage to come the rest of the way,” Tom explained, then studied them. “Would ya like to hear the story?”

  “Can you get one in before breakfast?” asked Arlan.

  “Sure can,” said Tom with a smile. “Now listen up, and I’ll tell ya all about Chase Adams and the Cookes’ other three cousins when they come to town …”

  One

  Clear Creek, Oregon, July 1861

  “Chin up ladies,” ordered Imogene Sayer to her three young charges. “Morelina, there's a spot on your cheek, rub it off. Felicina, put that silly knitting of yours away. And you, Apphina, wake up!”

  Apphina jerked upright with a start. “Are we there yet?”

  “I do believe ladies, that this is the end of the line.” Imogene said.

  Morelina pushed aside the heavy curtain of the stage and peeked out at the dusty road. “There doesn't seem to be much here,” she observed. “Are you sure this is it cousin?”

  “Of course I'm sure,” said Imogene. “I saw a sign only a moment ago. It clearly read; Clear Creek.”

  Felicina yawned. “I, for one, am glad we’ve finally arrived. I couldn't bear to spend another day in this contraption.”

  “And I, for one, couldn’t bear to spend one more minute cooped up in one with you,” complained Morelina.

  “Stop your bickering,” ordered Imogene. “We've enough to worry about without you two fighting all the time.”

  “We're not bickering cousin,” said Felicina. “We're just trying to stay occupied.”

  “Staying occupied does not include tying each other's hair in knots at night while the other one is asleep.”

  Apphina giggled at the scold. “Now that was amusing.”

  “It was nothing of the sort,” huffed Imogene. “It was a disgrace, that's what it was!”

  “We had to keep ourselves entertained somehow,” said Morelina. “We'd have died of boredom otherwise.”

  “Quiet, all of you,” commanded Imogene. “We're here.”

  The stage pulled to a stop in its usual place in front of Dunnigan’s Mercantile. Willie, the driver jumped down, glanced around, and then opened the door so his passengers could disembark. “Here we are, ma'am,” he said.

  Imogene poked her head out to have a look, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. It took them months to get here, and she was going to make sure nothing went wrong at this point. She'd see her three young relations married if it was the last thing she did.

  Willie looked at her with admiration as she continued to take in her surroundings. She was used to such looks, and even though her traveling suit was dusty, torn in places, and faded from days spent walking on deck while months at sea, Imogene Sayer was still considered a fine cut of womanhood. At forty-five she’d seen her share of the world already, her husband having died twenty years ago. She had more money than she knew what to do with, and more time than she'd like, to fill. This trip had been an answer to prayer, and she’d relished every day spent with her young charges. Though they were so far removed from her, she could barely call them cousins, they were
still her relations, and she was happy to make the trip.

  She smoothed her raven locks, now streaked with gray, and extended her hand to Willie. He took it and helped her down. “My, but it's certainly quiet here.”

  Morelina disembarked next. “Do you think it's always this way?” She moved aside so Willie could help Felicina out. “There's not soul around.”

  Felicina also glanced this way and that. “I say, but is it some sort of holiday?”

  Apphina was the last to disembark. “Where is everybody?”

  “Are you three here for the Cookes?” Willie asked.

  “Yes, so long as you are referring to Harrison and Colin,” said Imogene. “And I'd very much like to know why they’re not here to greet us.”

  “You don't think they've forgotten, have you?” asked Apphina.

  “I suppose it is possible,” said Imogene. “After all, one cannot put too much faith in the American’s post. For all we know, they never got our letters or those of the Duke’s.”

  “You mean they don't even know we've arrived?” asked Morelina, her hand to her chest.

  “What are we going to do?” lamented Apphina. “We don't even know where they live!”

  “I say, driver,” said Imogene. “But do you know where my cousin's ranch is located?”

  “Well sure, ma'am. Everyone around here knows where the Cookes live.”

  “Do they now?” Imogene glanced at the three girls and smiled. “I'm glad to hear it.”

  * * *

  Colin, Harrison, and Logan Kincaid, stared at the charred remains of the Triple C’s barn. Though it burned down over a week ago, there were still sections that smoldered, a reminder of the inferno it had become when the outlaws set it on fire. But it wasn't just the barn they destroyed, it was the sense of peace the Triple C Ranch had. Now that it had been shattered, the men would never be the same. Logan's wife Susara was at the schoolhouse when the fire broke out. If she wasn’t, she too would have found herself locked in the barn to endure the flames that licked at the tack room’s door, death mere inches away.