Wild hearts haven, p.1
Wild Heart's Haven, page 1
Wild Heart's Haven
WAGON TRAIN MATCHES
LACY WILLIAMS
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Exclusive invitation
Acknowledgments
A special thank you for my readers
Find me online
Also by Lacy Williams
Prologue
Only minutes after the wagon train travelers celebrated his brother August’s wedding, Owen Mason approached the creek, picking his way through the woods so he wouldn't disturb the woman he was seeking. The place in his shoulder where he’d been winged by a bullet pulsed with a dull, never-ending ache.
Rachel Duncan knelt on the bank of the little tributary, her hands submerged in the water, suds trailing downstream. As she scrubbed her hands together, he realized she was washing out her dress.
She owned exactly two dresses. One she wore now, that his new sister-in-law, Felicity, had modified to fit her in this late stage of her pregnancy. And the one she was washing, the dress she'd been wearing when she’d been found in the woods over a week ago.
He didn’t want to know so much about her. How many dresses she owned. That she was restless at night, didn’t sleep much thanks to the baby she carried. How she looked when she grieved.
No one else seemed to be aware that she was down here while the rest of camp was packed up, folks standing around congratulating August and Felicity on their nuptials. It was only a matter of time before Hollis would blow the bugle.
But Rachel seemed to be in no hurry.
He stood several yards downstream and half-hidden behind a tree. She'd been nothing but trouble since his brother had found her out in the woods.
Trouble for Owen.
Who couldn't stop thinking about her. Especially after he'd watched her brother’s life leak out between his hands.
He hadn't put Daniel on that wagon or forced him to take off from the main caravan. Owen had been shouting for the other man to stop and take cover when the outlaws had started shooting. Owen had shot back, wanting to scare them off.
In the melee, he couldn't be sure whose bullet had hit Daniel, his or one of the outlaws'.
It didn’t matter. Daniel was gone. Maybe that was for the better. The man had been cruel, drowned his grief in a bottle, said things to his sister that no man should ever say to a woman. Struck her, even.
As far as Owen was concerned, good riddance.
But once Owen had delivered Daniel's body into the circle of wagons, Rachel had shut down.
Gone was the woman who had harangued every family on the wagon train, trying to find a horse or some other transportation to take her back East.
Gone was the woman who'd helped every woman who would let her—toting wash water, making supper, watching children.
It was as if Rachel had died that day too, and only her shadow remained. She was meek and quiet, barely ate. He noticed her staring blankly into a fire when he woke and last thing before bed.
He wasn't supposed to feel guilt over her situation.
But he did.
And it made him itchy.
And that made him mad.
He made his way up the creek bank, now making no effort to hide or quiet his approach.
She didn't look up.
His temper rumbled like a sleeping dragon, a wisp of smoke on an exhale. Why couldn't the woman do anything the way he might expect?
He cleared his throat.
When she still didn't look up, he asked, "You doin' all right?"
She didn't answer him, just kept scrubbing that dress under the water. He'd been close enough to see the fraying hems and an elbow that had already been patched. If she wasn't careful, she'd scrub the thing to threads.
Silence reigned for a moment that lengthened into awkwardness and the dragon that was his temper flared its nostrils, a lick of flame escaping. "I asked you a question."
She looked up at him, only dullness in her eyes. "I'm fine. Is that what you want to hear?"
If her words had held any of the old fire she’d always flamed at him, he would've kept his trap shut. But she spoke almost in monotone.
"Is the baby all right? After that fall?" He'd been too far away, on horseback, to do anything when her scoundrel of a brother had shoved her off the wagon. He'd seen it, though, and something inside of him had raged when she'd hit the ground with a limp thud.
She shrugged. Her indifference poked the dragon.
"I'm trying to help," he snapped. "The least you could do is answer me."
Something inside her seemed to snap, too. She threw down the dress, splashing droplets everywhere. "The least I can do?" She struggled to her feet, her eyes now flashing fire. "I don't want your help. Your help got my brother killed."
Her words hit him like a slug to the stomach, stealing his air. It didn’t matter that her brother had been a scoundrel. Owen had been responsible.
"You're still stuck with me until we reach the fort." This time, his words held only a little of the bite from earlier.
Tears sprang to her eyes before she turned her head and stomped after the dress that had quickly floated downstream—in his direction.
He took two steps into the water and caught it, his wound pulsing with the effort. He held the sopping mass of cloth over the creek as water ran down in rivulets.
She didn't want to be left at the fort. That much was obvious. He didn't blame her. The fort would be filled with crass men, and who knew how long it might be before someone was willing to take her on—maybe an eternity if she still intended to go back East.
She firmed her lips and her chin tipped up. His stomach dipped at the show of attitude. She might be grieving, but she was still herself. That fiery attitude hiding under the layers of pain.
She reached for the dress.
He took the time to squeeze most of the water out of it before he handed it to her.
She didn't say thank you.
He shook his head. What had he expected? "Hollis will call for us to move out in a few minutes."
He was done here. He'd said what he needed to say.
"If you really wanted to help, you'd find me a way back East," she muttered to the ground.
He stopped from where he'd moved a step away. Put his hands on his hips as he faced her again.
"Everyone here is traveling West," he reminded her as gently as he could.
Maybe not so gentle, judging by the stubborn twist of her lips.
"What you need is a husband." The words leapt out before he realized he was going to say them.
Fire flashed in her eyes. "You offering?"
No. The answer rang inside him like a bell, clear and loud. He wasn't husband material, and she sure as shootin' wasn't a match for him.
But a part of him niggled like a tooth waiting to fall out. He had been responsible, at least in part, for Daniel's death.
Did that make him responsible for her?
"I guess I am."
She looked as surprised as he felt that he'd said the words.
But she didn't give him a chance to change his mind. "Fine."
Fine.
Only it wasn't fine at all.
What had he done?
One
"Hollis will be out with the lead wagon."
The woman walking beside Owen Mason barely acknowledged his words, and he felt a stirring of irritation. He worked to quash it.
Rachel Duncan might be the stubbornest, most independent woman he'd ever met. Her dark honey-colored hair and blue-eyed gaze might’ve been pleasing if not for the irritation he felt every time she opened her mouth to speak. She bothered him like a burr under his saddle. Made his skin itch like it was crawling with ants.
And Owen had promised to marry her.
That's why he needed Hollis Tremblay, the wagon master of their company. To perform the ceremony.
The sun had been up for almost an hour. The wagon train camp along the Platte River was bustling with activity as every traveler, even the children, helped prepare to pull out for the day. Their caravan had been on the trail West to Oregon for weeks now, and the company knew the routine for readying for a day of travel.
Owen needed to find Hollis, fast. The bugle—the signal to pull out—was about to blow. He skirted a girl no older than ten who was trying to shoo two chickens into a large wicker basket.
"Sorry."
He glanced over his shoulder at Rachel's murmured apology to see chickens scattering in opposite directions. The girl's basket was on the ground, and she was glaring at Rachel.
Rachel had one hand pressed against her opposite elbow, as if she'd bumped it.
Probably bumped it on the little girl. Had she run into her?
It was plausible, given Rachel's condition. The woman was due to give birth in the next few weeks. He doubted she could see her feet when she was standing up, and she was clumsy. He'd seen it himself, watched her knock over a pail of fresh water from the creek because she hadn't seen it on the ground in front of her.
Guilt surged. Maybe he deserved it.
The wound in his arm—a thin line between a scrape and a cut on the outside of his biceps—pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He slowed his stride slightly so she could keep up, but the urgency inside him didn't go away.
He wanted to get this over with.
Owen came across Leo Spencer and his wife, near their wagon. His older half-brother had fallen in love on the earliest days of the trail and married Evangeline.
Their campsite was packed up. The fire had been stamped out. Evangeline’s young sister, Sara, played on the wagon seat, away from the dangerous hooves of the oxen already in their traces.
Judging by the way he and Evangeline stood so close against the wagon, Leo must've thought everyone else around was too busy to pay attention. Leo was the same height as Owen, and sometimes looking at him was akin to looking at Owen’s own reflection. They both resembled their late father with his dark hair and eyes.
Leo had his arms around Evangeline's waist, and as Owen watched, he raised one hand to brush against Evangeline's cheek. The clear affection and love in Leo's expression twisted Owen up inside.
It didn't matter. Owen had no use for a love match. Or any match at all. He was only going through with this because it was the right thing to do.
Leo must've caught sight of Owen striding through camp because he glanced over his shoulder and then dropped his hand, though he didn't look embarrassed to be caught snuggling his wife.
"You seen Hollis?" Owen called.
Leo shook his head negatively. "You seen Coop?”
"I haven't," Owen responded. Coop was Leo’s younger brother, no relation to Owen.
Owen halted abruptly and Rachel almost plowed into him. He stopped her forward momentum with a hand on her elbow, though he quickly dropped it, shaking out the ache from his wound.
She gave him a squinty-eyed glare when he turned to her. "Why don't you wait here? I'll go fetch Hollis."
"It will be quicker if I go with you."
He couldn't recall a conversation with Rachel where she hadn't argued with him. Irritation stung like nettles all over his skin. He rolled his shoulders to try and get rid of the feeling. The pulse of pain in his arm grew more intense and then faded.
“We’ll need witnesses anyway." He was aware of Leo’s sharp sideways glance, but continued, “Just stay put.”
He heard the gurgle of her stomach. His eyebrows raised of their own volition. "Have you eaten anything today?”
Her frown was answer enough.
He looked past Rachel to Evangeline, who was speaking to Sara. He called out, “Can you help Rachel scrounge up some breakfast?"
Evangeline murmured a quiet, “Of course,” but he was already striding away, intent on finding Hollis so he could get this over with.
Leo jogged to fall into step beside Owen.
"What do you need Hollis for? And witnesses?”
Owen wasn’t used to being on the other end of Leo’s big brother inquisition. Leo was three years older, which made Owen the same age as Collin and Coop, Leo's twin brothers from another father.
Owen had grown up in California, never knowing he had a brother and sister until his father had been dying of consumption and revealed it on his deathbed. Owen had made a difficult decision to go back east to try and find his siblings.
He was used to being the older brother. The problem solver. The responsible one.
And Owen had found them in a spot of trouble.
Leo hadn't wanted anything to do with Owen those first weeks. Owen thought things had smoothed over between them, but that muscle ticking in his brother's jaw maybe meant things were still a little tumultuous.
“What do you need Hollis for?" Leo repeated.
Owen might as well tell him. It wasn't easy to keep secrets on the trail. With only a flimsy piece of canvas between you and your next neighbor, it was far too easy to overhear conversations.
"I'm marrying Rachel."
Leo snorted, but then grew serious when he realized Owen wasn't joking. "You can't marry her. You hate each other."
"I don't hate her." He couldn’t say she felt the same. Not for certain.
At their first meeting, she had been pointing a gun—empty at the time, but he hadn't known that—at Owen’s younger brother, August. So Owen had tackled her to the ground. She’d been terrified, hiding from the men who had massacred her wagon train, and it had been dark. He hadn't realized until everything was over that she was a she, and that she was pregnant.
Even if she had forgiven him for that, there was other bad blood between them.
"Maybe you don't hate her, but you sure don't like her."
Leo was right. Owen and Rachel couldn't seem to help arguing at every turn.
He sighed and stopped, turning to face his brother.
"It's my fault Daniel got himself killed." It was the first time he'd said the words out loud. But not the first time he'd thought them.
Leo's frown deepened. "How d'you figure? Daniel was a bully who tried to steal a horse, then tried to steal a wagon."
Rachel’s brother had been shot in the middle of a gunfight when Owen and Leo and the others from their company had been defending against an outlaw band who'd tried to murder them and steal their supplies and animals—the same outlaw band that had killed Rachel’s other family.
"I should've tied him hand and foot,” Owen said.
Or had one of the younger men hold him at gunpoint. Maybe given him a horse and sent him on his way.
Any choice but the one Owen had made could’ve resulted in a different outcome.
The other men from the wagon train—including the one Daniel had attempted to steal a horse from—had wanted him hanged. Owen had thought he was sparing Daniel's life to bring him to the fort.
Daniel hadn't survived that long.
And Owen might never forget the keening wail Rachel had let out when she’d seen her brother’s lifeless body.
Leo’s voice shook him out of that terrible memory. “Guilt isn’t something to build a marriage on.”
Leo was as serious as Owen had ever seen him. His voice held an edge Owen hadn’t heard in weeks.
But at Leo’s words, Owen felt his shoulders relax. “It’s only until we reach Oregon,” he told his brother. “Then we’ll have it annulled.”
Leo scowled.
“What?” Owen was honestly confused at his brother’s response.
“You’d marry her and walk away?” Now Leo sounded offended. And as far as Owen was concerned, this wasn’t his business.
“This isn’t a love match.” Owen couldn’t help it. He bristled at Leo’s commanding tone. “It’s an agreement between the two of us.”
Leo sneered. “It sounds like something our pa would’ve done. He left one wife behind easily enough.”
Was that what Leo was worried about? “I won’t leave her penniless.”
Leo shook his head. “I thought you were different. But there’s a lot of Pa in you, isn’t there?”
Owen took offense to that. “Our father was an upstanding man. A man of honor—”
“Except when he walked away from his family.”
Leo’s words felt like a slap. He wasn’t done yet. “And you’re gonna do the same. There’s nothing honorable in what you’re doing.”
Leo whirled on his heel and stomped off, leaving Owen fuming. He strode through a couple of parked wagons, grateful there weren’t any travelers nearby to have heard the words exchanged by the brothers.
Leo had no right to talk to him that way. Leo didn’t understand.
Owen was trying to do right by Rachel. Maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault that her brother was a no-account thief who didn’t mind bullying his pregnant sister when he got drunk. But he’d been a part of what had happened.
Marrying Rachel meant she’d have the protection of his name until they reached Oregon. That was enough to settle the debt between them.
