The Bride Raffle (17 page)

Big, strong, foul-mouthed, ornery Owen Cooper needed more.

He needed
her,
Daisy realized. He needed her to love him.

And that was all the more reason she wanted to stay with him. It was all the more reason she wanted to stand by, trading hidden grins with Élodie, as Owen took charge of the buckwheat griddle cakes himself. It was all the more reason, Daisy thought as she wrapped her arms around Owen in a tremendous hug, that she was not intending to give up on getting him to socialize.

She might have lost this round, Daisy told herself, but as long as Owen needed her, she would be there for him. And one of the things he needed her for, she thought, was making sure he came all the way out of his self-imposed exile and joined in life in Morrow Creek…the way his daughter and his friends—and now, Daisy too—profoundly wanted him to do.

Muttering darkly, Owen served up a plate of griddle cakes. He doused them in twice the usual quantity of maple syrup, seemed to find himself at a loss to know why, then called Élodie to the table. “Breakfast time! Come eat your burned food.”

Cheerfully, Élodie scampered in to take her place. Daisy tucked away her latest smile. Then she, too, took her place.

Owen smacked down another plate of griddle cakes. They did not look as burned or as inedible as he made out. “Here. Eat.”

“Thank you.” Daisy lifted her gaze to his. For the first time, she glimpsed real hopefulness in Owen’s eyes. It was tentative—and covered by blustery maleness—but it was there.

With his hands on his hips, Owen surveyed them. He nodded. Then, apparently satisfied that all was well, he took his leave.

“I’m going down to check on the horses,” he announced. But all he did was stand there, watching in apparent consternation as his daughter forked up bites of griddle cake. He glanced from his little girl to Daisy. He sighed. “Don’t dawdle, now.”

“I won’t!” Élodie assured him. “See you in a minute, Papa!”

“Fine. Good.” Roughly, Owen looked around, still seeming at loose ends. “All right. I’m going to the stable. You two…eat!”

“We’ll be right here,” Daisy promised. “Waiting for you.”

At that, Owen appeared almost ready to bawl. Instead, he snatched up a mended bridle from nearby, then stomped away. The whole way down the stairwell, Daisy could hear him muttering.

When he’d gone, Élodie looked at her. “Papa’s silly.”

“But he’s also magnificent,” Daisy told her. “Isn’t he?”

They both traded grins. Then Daisy got busy eating her griddle cakes. After all, she was eating for two now. Besides, she would need her strength later, for that sightseeing outing. If she couldn’t persuade Owen to come along, she’d try again another time, with another social event. The important thing was, for once
she’d
helped Owen.

She felt beyond proud of that fact. Proud and grateful. It seemed to Daisy, just then, that she and Owen were like peas in a pod, the two of them, both needing an extra-big dose of love.

It was fortunate they’d found one another, she realized, so they could give each other that extra-big helping of love. They were lucky in that way. As Daisy finished her first griddle cake and started in on the second, she couldn’t conceive of a single thing she enjoyed more than being with Owen and Élodie.

It was almost like having a family of her very own—the family she’d always dreamed of. Now, for the first time, Daisy’s dream family seemed tantalizingly within reach…with no dreams necessary. If that wasn’t a miracle, Daisy didn’t know what was.

F
or Daisy’s
third
attempt to lure Owen into greater sociability, she decided to stop fiddling around with half measures. With new optimism, she gathered up the supplies she would need, set Élodie to the task of knitting a few rows on the scarf she’d started, then skipped downstairs to the stable.

In her hand, Daisy held a poster advertising the Morrow Creek Independence Day town picnic, which had been printed on her brother’s press at the newspaper office just that morning. In her heart, she carried a lightness that buoyed every step she took. On her face, she boasted a glowing smile—one full of anticipation and every reasonable expectation of victory.

This time, Daisy knew, she
would
convince Owen to accompany her to a social event. And not just any social event, either.

The annual Independence Day town picnic was, according to Miss Reardon and Mrs. Sunley, the largest and most well-attended event of the entire year in Morrow Creek—and it was Daisy’s targeted event for her latest invitation, too.

Once Owen faced such an event as
that,
she reasoned, his
fears of descending into debauchery the moment he left his home or his stable would dissipate. Owen would see that it was his own good character—not his rules against socializing—that had granted him the life he enjoyed now. He might also see, Daisy hoped—if she were truly lucky and Mrs. Fowler, the milliner, were truly prescient—that the town picnic was the perfect venue for a marriage proposal. A marriage proposal to her!

With that exciting notion in mind, Daisy all but flew down the final steps leading to the stable. At the bottom, she nearly tripped…over some luggage, she saw to her puzzlement.

At the stairway landing sat two traveling trunks. They appeared rather worse for wear, thanks to their journeys. They also appeared familiar. Amid the scrapes and dings were two engraved tags that Daisy recognized. They bore her initials. This was
her
luggage. These were
her
things. And if she’d entertained any lingering confusion on the matter, the sight of several copies of her
New Book of Cookery and General Home Keeping: with Recipes and Formulas for All Occasions, Both Informal and Grand
, perched higgledy-piggledy on top of the nearest trunk, would have set her straight in a hurry.

But how—and why—were her belongings
here,
in Owen’s stable?

She’d only sent her telegraph wire to Conrad two days ago. She didn’t think her luggage and cookery books could have traveled all the way from San Diego to Morrow Creek in two days’ time. Besides, she’d gotten settled so snugly in town! She’d almost begun to believe that her speaking-engagements tour belonged in another lifetime—and so did Conrad Parker, who was undoubtedly busy, even now, escorting the eminent Astair Prestell from place to place.

Gazing down at her newly recovered possessions, Daisy frowned. She couldn’t help feeling these things belonged not only to another lifetime, but to another woman. The woman
she’d been while touring across the country with Conrad at her side was gone now. In her place stood a stronger woman. A braver woman. A woman who dared to love…and be loved in return.

A woman who, by her own admission, was having a baby!

Those changes in herself hadn’t come easily. But they’d come. And now, examining her luggage in bafflement, Daisy put one hand on her belly. She cradled her unborn baby, the way she now loved to do, and wondered again how this had come to pass.

On the precipice of discovering that for herself, Daisy glanced down the stable’s aisles. In the stalls nearby, horses shifted and blew. Undoubtedly, they wished she were Owen, with his ever-full pockets of oats and his friendly equine pats. There was no sign of Gus; Owen’s affable helper appeared to be away at the moment. In fact, there was no sign of
Owen
himself.

Well. First she’d find him. Then she’d invite him to the Independence Day town picnic. Then she’d inquire about her things. Undoubtedly, Owen had put them here. Or maybe Gus had.

With a final bolstering glance at her poster, Daisy headed down the nearest aisle. Only horses were there, safely in their stalls—but this time, muted by the sounds of restless hooves and wagon wheels outside, Daisy caught the sound of something else.

Voices. Male voices. Voices raised…in anger?

Concerned, she walked faster. One of those voices belonged to Owen, she realized. It sounded gruff but measured. The other voice, while male, sounded higher pitched and full of annoyance.

“You don’t understand” came the second voice. “I simply cannot have this…
scandal
come to light! Not now. Not ever.”

In an instant, Daisy recognized that voice.
Conrad
.

Conrad was
here
. But why here? Why now? And why, Daisy wondered further, had Owen not already come upstairs to fetch her? The two men didn’t have a single thing in common, aside from her. She couldn’t imagine they would embark on a friendly conversation just to pass the time. Apart from which, this particular conversation sounded contentious, not friendly.

“Daisy cares about you,” Owen said. “You can’t abandon—”

“Daisy ‘cares’ about everyone!” Conrad interrupted in a spiteful tone. “Friends, family, strangers—Daisy loves them all, right from the get-go. And they love her.” Conrad made that sound like a bad thing. “But you can’t expect me to
marry
that girl just because her ‘friendliness’ got out of hand.”

Shocked, Daisy stopped. Did Conrad really mean… Was he really suggesting…that she’d been utterly indiscriminate? That she was some kind of hussy, to be spoken about so cruelly?

Newly troubled, Daisy ducked into an empty stall. With her heart beating wildly, she angled her head, the better to hear what came next. An instant later she almost wished she hadn’t.

On the heels of a stern rebuke from Owen, Conrad laughed. Daisy couldn’t hear what, exactly, had prompted his amusement.

“Was I supposed to
refuse
when she threw herself at me?”

Upon hearing that blatant lie, Daisy gasped. But Conrad only chuckled again. “You must not get out of this town much,” he said, “if you believe any man wouldn’t have done what I did.”

“What you ‘did’ is get Daisy with child,” Owen insisted. “It’s your responsibility to take care of her and the baby.”

Conrad scoffed. Even though Daisy couldn’t see him from her position in the stall—and, she hoped, they couldn’t see her,
as she overheard this awful conversation—she could easily imagine Conrad’s expression. It would be contemptuous. Arrogant. Mean.

It would be the kind of expression that had always made Daisy feel sick with the need to please Conrad, at whatever cost. But Owen, apparently, felt no such compunction toward him.

“You’d better think twice before you say anything else,” he warned Conrad in a forbidding tone. “Because if you slander Daisy again—whether in my hearing or not—I swear to God I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Conrad gibed. “You’ll try to scare me? Be—”

A loud thump shuddered through the stable. Next came a hoarse cry. The walls vibrated hard, all the way to the stall where Daisy crouched, horrified and alone and disbelieving.

“What will I do?” Owen asked roughly. The wall shook again. There was another outcry. “I’ll make you regret being born.”

Daisy believed him. Evidently so did Conrad. Whatever the rest of his snide comment had been, he must have swallowed it.

“You’re…choking me,” Conrad burbled instead.

“I don’t care what it costs me,” Owen told him. The stable walls trembled. “I’ll make you pay for what you did to Daisy.”

“I—” A gagging cough. “Can’t breathe. You…brute!”

“No matter what happens here,” Owen went on, his voice full of certainty—and a menace that suddenly made Daisy believe every dangerous moment of his scoundrel’s life, “no matter where you go and who you see after you leave here today, you
will
talk about Daisy with respect. Or I’ll know the reason. Understand?”

Another gurgle came from Conrad. Dumbfounded and
concerned, Daisy peeked around the corner. As she’d guessed, Owen had pinned her speaking-engagements tour manager fully against the wall. One mighty fist held Conrad in place; the other clenched and unclenched repeatedly by his side, clearly aching to hit something…or someone. With frightening intensity, Owen glared at Conrad. Then, after the man dumbly nodded, Owen released him.

Conrad tugged his shirt collar. Wearing a nervous, weaselly smile, he cast a wary glance at Owen. “All right. That’s fine. I understand.” He held up both palms. “You want me to pay? I can pay,” he assured Owen with a vigorous nod. “I can pay
dearly,
if you want. All we need to do is come to an agreement.”

Owen only glowered at him, still curling his hands at his sides. He appeared ready and willing to thrash Conrad senseless if he said anything else that displeased him. Daisy had never seen Owen appear more intimidating…or more protective of her.

“As I said before,” Conrad stammered on, pausing to lick his lips, “I can’t have this scandal become public! Not now. I’ve just begun a new speaking-engagements tour with Astair Prestell. It’s very lucrative. It will be extremely profitable, too, once I’ve skimmed off some of the pr—” Conrad broke off. He seemed to think better of confiding more details. “But all that will vanish if word reaches my supervisors about Daisy.”

“I’d be happy to wire Barker & Bowles myself. Today.”

“No! No.” With another oily smile, Conrad patted Owen’s shoulder. At Owen’s murderous expression, he hastily quit. But he still seemed shaken to realize that Owen knew his employers. “There’s no need for that! What I mean is, you’re a man of the world. Anyone can see that. And
I’m
a man of the world. Between the two of us, surely we can work out…an understanding?”

Owen crossed his arms, glaring at him suspiciously.

“Daisy’s already here with you,” Conrad said, his tone full of coaxing. “She likes it here, you said so! So who am I to alter that? All she needs is a little help to see her through.”

He fumbled with something in his suit-coat pocket. Owen tensed. So did Daisy. Breath held, she leaned forward to see.

“Money?”
Owen’s disgusted tone mirrored Daisy’s reaction.

“Not
just
money,” Conrad alleged. He patted the wad of bills he’d set on an overturned barrel. “Money for Daisy’s future.” He cast a speculative glance toward Owen. “Enough money so the man who helps her with that future can have some too.”

His meaning was plain. Conrad was trying to
bribe
Owen.

But that would never work, Daisy knew. Owen was far too faithful to her. He was far too honorable. He was far too redeemed—as she’d so often told him—to take up his scoundrelly ways again. It wasn’t possible he’d be tempted. Not by this.

On the other hand, he
did
want to amass enough savings for his daughter, Daisy recalled uneasily. That’s why—aside from his concerns for staying away from trouble—Owen worked so hard at the stable. He wanted a big nest egg, as Élodie had explained a few days ago, for his
petit chou
…to assure her a good future.

Owen looked at the cash. “That’s not much.” Amazingly, he named a figure—an estimate of the quantity on the barrel. Daisy could tell, by Conrad’s astounded expression, that his guess was accurate. “I’d need more than that,” Owen specified darkly. “After all, I’d be taking a woman
and
a baby off your hands.”

Daisy felt instantly dizzy. Light-headed and queasy, she cradled her belly. She leaned against the stable wall, willing herself not to have heard what she thought she’d heard.

Owen…haggling to be paid properly for caring about her.

More uneasy laughter came from Conrad. “I see! You’re a man who drives a hard bargain! I respect that about you. I do.”

Owen only growled. Daisy couldn’t look at him. Her gaze was already full, brimming with tears—and the memory of Owen’s face as he’d estimated his payoff. His gambler’s acumen had truly come through for him, Daisy reckoned. So had his thieving past. She’d never forget his rough, raspy voice as he’d pushed for a bigger bribe—the better to see him through his days with her.

After all, I’d be taking a woman and a baby off your hands.

The echo of that horrible statement seemed to reverberate from the stable walls, blotting out the place’s customary peacefulness. This was where she’d first kissed Owen, Daisy thought in a burst of disbelief. This was where she’d laughed with him while making the rounds to feed and water Élodie’s favorite horses.

This was where Owen had shattered her heart to pieces.

Another thump on the barrel. “There! That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it,” Conrad blustered. “I’ll forget I ever knew Daisy. You’ll claim her bastard as your own. We’ll both go our separate ways.” A pause came next. “Do we have a deal?”