Page 7 of Their Wanted Bride (Bridgewater Brides 1)

Gritting his teeth, the man inhaled and let his air out slowly before speaking. “Sirs, will you direct me to the nearest hotel and wait for me? At least give me a chance to prove my gender.”

Whoever this Madelaine was, he had nice manners. I couldn’t rightly recall if anyone had ever called me sir. That predisposed to me to like him, regardless of his tall tales.

Laughing outright, Caleb nodded and pointed toward the clapboard hotel at the end of the street. “We can give you an hour. After that, we’re heading home.”

O’Connor grinned impishly, his button nose wrinkling. “I won’t need that long. Wait for me in the dining room and I’ll buy you supper for your trouble.”

Without another word, he walked away, leaving Caleb scratching his head. “What do you think?” he asked, turning to face me.

I watched O’Connor stride toward the hotel, cocking my head at… Was that the sway of a round bottom under a too-often mended coat? It was hard to tell under all that dusty gray fabric, but it made me wonder. “Don’t rightly know,” I finally said. “Might get us a free supper though.”

We followed O’Connor into the hotel, watching with interest as he paid for their best room and asked for a bath. When he had his room key, he turned and said, “I won’t be long.”

When I nodded, he disappeared up the steps, his boots making no sound on the polished wood floor.

CALEB

* * *

Something was wrong here. This whole situation set me on edge. Was this O’Connor fellow telling us the truth? I’d never heard tell of a woman dressing as a man, or vice versa. It didn’t make much sense to me, and raised a whole mess of questions I wanted answers to.

Namely, how did a person exiting one of the third-class train cars, male or female, have the funds to engage the hotel’s best room and buy supper for three, along with a hot bath?

“You’re scowling,” Justin muttered. “What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t like this.” I shook my head and strode outside. If O’Connor was truly female, she’d take forever making herself presentable. We had plenty of time to discuss our options. I lowered myself into one of the rockers set out on the porch for guests and lit a cigar. “Why would a woman disguise herself as a man? Did you see him pay for the room outright? Where did he get the money?”

“There’s that stallion too. He’s ugly as sin, but I’m beginning to wonder if O’Connor stole him.”

“I don’t think so.” I took a puff from the cigar and passed it to Justin. “Did you see how the horse followed her? When was the last time you saw that?”

“That old flea-bitten gray plow horse of your daddy’s. Remember how he used to follow your mama around?”

Laughing, I retrieved the cigar. “Yep, I sure do remember that. Mama had a right good hand with him too.”

Justin leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands over his belly. “So maybe O’Connor didn’t steal the chestnut stallion. Doesn’t explain why he has so much money.”

“No saddle or tack either. Just a rope halter he didn’t use.” I handed the cigar over.

Justin laughed and took it from me. “He or she?” He took a puff, then stubbed it out. “I’m thinking O’Connor is the woman we’re waiting for.”

“Why?”

“Madelaine O’Connor. The initials match what was on the telegram. Aside from that, she has an awfully high-pitched voice.”

“Still doesn’t explain why she’s dressed as a man.”

My best friend lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Safety. Traveling by herself would have been risky for a young lady, and she can’t be more than twenty or so.”

“True. Pretty manners too.”

Nodding, he smiled grudgingly and pulled his hat over his eyes. “I could get used to being called sir, especially if she’s on her knees asking for my cock. I’m going to rest my eyes for a spell. Wake me when she shows up.”

“He, you mean?” If O’Connor truly was the woman we were waiting for, we’d both get the pleasure of what Justin described. I couldn’t help the faint hope welling in my chest that traveled lower into my gut, making my shaft thicken. She sure did have pretty eyes and I couldn’t wait to see them clouded with passion.

Well, if she really was a woman, that was.

“Either one.”

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