Johanna Lindsey - A Man to Call My Own

Chad showed up with Stuart the morning they were to depart, probably just to see his father off. But his presence, when she thought she wouldn't see him again, so flustered her, she found herself being as clumsy as she used to pretend being. She dropped the small bag with her few changes of traveling clothes in it, then tripped over it. When she recovered from that, she turned around and bumped into the fellow who was loading the larger trunks on top of the stagecoach, causing him to lose his hold on one. It fell to the ground, popped open, and spilled half its contents.

The trunk happened to be one of hers, and she gasped as she saw her rolled-up canvases rolling out into the middle of the street. She immediately ran after them, and almost got run down by a cowboy who was racing down the street.

It was Chad who yanked her back, with a snarled, "Maybe you shouldn't have gotten rid of the spectacles."

She would have been blushing if she didn't have to stand tJiere and watch him pick up her canvases. She was holding her breath instead, and praying the tied strings holding the paintings rolled up wouldn't break. And heaven forbid he should ask what they were ...

He asked, "What are these?"

She reached for them without answering and stuffed them back in her trunk. The fellow who had dropped the trunk was apologizing, so she spent a moment assuring him that no harm had been done, then gathered up the rest of the scattered contents. Chad tried to help. She slapped his hands away, then glared at him when he persisted. He finally chuckled and sauntered back to his horse.

She started to breathe normally again—until Chad returned with a bag of his own that he tossed up to the man arranging the luggage on top of the coach. Marian stared, openmouthed at the conclusion she was forced to draw.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Now that Red doesn't need me at the ranch anymore, it's back to business as usual for me," he told her.

"Are you saying going to Chicago with your father is normal for you?"

"Sure is."

"Oh."

She tried to keep the disappointment out of her tone, but she heard it anyway. He didn't. He sauntered off again to help unload the rest of their luggage from the wagon to the coach. And she castigated herself for thinking, even for a moment, that he wanted to come along to help, or, even more unlikely, that he couldn't bear to be parted from her... .

How vain could she get? If he couldn't bear to be parted from anyone, it was Amanda.

She supposed he could be hoping that Amanda would get a divorce as soon as she got her inheritance back. After all, Amanda wasn't showing signs of being happy with Spencer, and vice versa for that matter. Chad might think he still had a chance with her, and in that case, he wouldn't want to let her get too far away from him. All excellent reasons to tamp down any disappointment she'd felt.

The small stage that regularly passed through town would never have accommodated all their luggage, and it would definitely have been a tight squeeze for seven people. But apparently Stuart only traveled in comfort and once a year, a Concord Coach with its own driver came to town for his annual trip to Chicago, to take him all the way to the railroad lines up north. It was a standing arrangement he had with that company. And of course a Concord sat eight very comfortably.

Stuart also traveled with his entourage of hired guns, and this trip was no exception, though they didn't take up any of the coach seats. Two rode shotgun with the driver, and four more flanked the coach on either side as they headed out of town early that morning.

It was going to be a long trip, Marian thought miserably as she sat across from Chad in the coach. She was going to get a stiff neck, she was sure, trying to avoid looking at him—or spend most of the day with her eyes closed. She supposed she could claim she was tired, and just make sure the next time she entered the coach, she'd be on the same side of it as he was. Just not next to him. That wouldn't do either. That would be worse, in fact.

Damn, it really was going to be an excruciatingly long journey.

ODDLY ENOUGH, AMANDA DIDN'T complain about any of the traveling this time around. Of course, this trip was to her benefit, and that made all the difference. And everyone coming along was there to help her. At least, she'd see it that way. But the lack of complaints actually made the trip quite bearable, even pleasant, for everyone else.

Except Marian. Being forced into such close confines with Chad again wasn't pleasant at all. In fact, she spent most of the trip quite dejected, frustrated, and with a whole slew of other unwelcome emotions to annoy her. Every time she happened to look at him, he was looking at Amanda. Every conversation Amanda started, he joined in on.

Everyone else was having a fine time on their new adventure. Marian wasn't. If she were anything at all like her sister, she would have found a great deal to complain about. But she wasn't, and so she kept her unhappiness to herself. She actually kept quiet for the most part, so much so that Chad remarked on it when they found themselves briefly alone in the corridor of one of the hotels they stayed at.

"You worried that you won't be in time to recover any of your inheritance?"

"Why would I be any more worried than Amanda?"

He shrugged. "You just seem more preoccupied about it. Never known you to be so silent for so long. Barely heard a word out of you today."

When he'd laughed at one of Amanda's attempts to be funny that morning? When she hadn't been funny at all? When the only ones who would have thought so were the men who adored her? And he wondered at her silence?

She had stewed over Chad's response to Amanda all day, feeling more convinced than ever that Chad was still hoping to come out the winner in the end, where Amanda was concerned. Spencer hadn't thought his wife was funny either. Of course her catty remark had been at his expense, so he wouldn't.

Those two weren't getting along. It was patently obvious to anyone taking notes, and Chad would be taking notes. Oddly, though, Amanda was being remarkably restrained toward someone she actively disliked.

The barbs she tossed at her husband were rather tame for her, more designed to get his attention than to cut to the quick. It was almost as if she didn't really dislike him—or he held something over her to keep her from getting overly vicious.

But as for Chad's remark, and because he was standing there blocking her path as he awaited a reply, she was forced to say something, and she said it rather stiffly, "I have a lot on my mind aside from someone stealing my inheritance. Four proposals of marriage require a great deal of thought."

"What?!"

"You heard me. And I told them all I'd think about it, so I am—thinking about it."

"Who's been bothering you on this trip?"

"No one."

"Then who asked to marry you?"

"Oh, those weren't recent proposals, that was before we left Trenton."

"Who?" he persisted.

She frowned and was forced to admit, "I honestly can't remember most of their names, well, aside from that nice Dr. Willaby."

Chad snorted. "He's old enough to be your father."

Marian shrugged. "He's still very nice."

He then narrowed his eyes on her. "You pulling my leg, Mari?"

"No, I wouldn't dream of doing that," she shot back. "And besides, since none of this is any of your business anyway, you shouldn't be asking. And maybe you should keep your questions to yourself next time if the answers are going to bother you."

"I'm not bothered," he snapped.

"My mistake. You don't sound bothered at all," she snapped back, and pushed her way past him.

She didn't say another word to him that day, or the next. In fact, if she couldn't say something to him without snapping—she'd castigated herself thoroughly over that—then she'd do better to keep her mouth shut. He must have felt the same way because he went back to ignoring her.

* * *

The longest and most tedious part of the journey was over when they reached the railroad that connected to the eastern half of the country. The trip had been uneventful for the most part, no attempted robberies with such a well-armed escort, no gunfights or brawls to witness in thie towns they passed through.

There had been the one morning Marian rose earlier than usual and caught her aunt leaving Stuarts hotel room. That could be considered quite eventful, she supposed, though only she knew about it. And she'd been much more embarrassed dian Kathleen had been.

Her aunt had merely grinned at her, and said, "He's asked me to marry him."

"Isn't this rather sudden?"

"Not really. We—ah, sort of shared a bed the night of the barbecue. I was all worried about you, even though Chad was going out to find you. But Stuart was determined to take my mind off of it. It's pretty much why he came over that day for dinner, not just to tell me he was heading to Chicago for a spell, but to let me know when he got back that he'd be courting me proper."

"Will you marry him?"

"Oh yes. I've been in love with that man since the day I first met him, just never thought to do more'n keep it to myself. Even after Frank died, I never dreamed the day might come that he'd show some interest in me."

"Why not?" Marian asked in her aunt's defense. "You're a fine-looking woman."

"But with a small spread, while he aspires to being the cattle king of Texas. Besides, with his wealth, he could have any woman he wanted, so why would he want one who could only bring a few head of cattle to the marriage?"

Marian rolled her eyes. Trust a couple of ranchers to think in terms of cattle rather than love.

"So you were wrong."

"Actually," Kathleen replied with a chuckle, "Stuart says it's the only way he could think of to get my cook into his house."

Marian blinked, and felt her hackles rise indignantly. Kathleen burst out laughing, then put a hand to her mouth to stifle it. Considering the early hour, she didn't want to wake any of the others in their nearby rooms.

With another grin, she hooked her arm through Marian's to lead her back to her own room. "He was joking," she said in a low voice.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely. And let's keep this to ourselves for now. Stuart wants to get married in style when we get back home. He's going to invite the whole county. Says he's going to throw the biggest shindig ever to celebrate. But in the meantime, we'd like to keep our happiness under wraps. Just ain't appropriate, with everything else still unresolved."

And Amanda would be sure to put a damper on it, since the happiness wasn't hers. But that didn't need to be said, it was understood by them both.

Marian was still amazed. She hadn't seen it coming. But then she'd been so wrapped up in her own moping, she hadn't noticed the intimate looks passing between the older couple, hadn't noticed anything at all to indicate they were having secret rendezvous. Not that they could arrange them very often, when half the hotels they stayed at didn't have enough rooms to accommodate everyone, so rarely did one of them get a room to himself or herself.

But she was very pleased for Kathleen. It did add to her own dilemma though. It meant she'd have to live on Stuarts ranch with her aunt when they got back to Texas, at least until she got married herself. But that would mean being back under the same roof as Chad, and she found that so unacceptable she didn't even want to think of it.

It did give her more incentive to find a husband before they returned to Texas, not an impossibility. She was returning to her hometown, after all, where she already knew most everyone in her social circle. And although she had alienated most of the eligible men there, she was returning a new woman— well, new in looks anyway—so she could start afresh.

There was the problem of a time constraint. They might not be in Haverhill very long, and certainly weren't going there with the intention of entertaining callers. But she could work around that if she were determined enough, and she was. Anything would be preferable to having to put up with Chad's continued presence*

Stuart's private railroad car was a marvel of elegance even for him. He'd be the first to say it was overdone. But he didn't use it often enough to bother redecorating it. While it wouldn't accommodate all of their party for sleeping purposes, the parlor area was well supplied with overstuffed chairs girded in velvet, so those who ended up sleeping in them didn't really mind. And there had only been one night that they'd had to, when the train stopped at a depot only long enough for the passengers to eat dinner, then continued on through the night.