Judith E French (32 page)

“Then the two of you can take the fish in to Maria, eat the cold dinner your mother left on the table for you, and help Maria wash the dishes,” Ash finished. “Baths for both of you.”

“Put on your church clothes, and you may read until it’s time to go with the reverend,” Tamsin said.

David sighed. “But where are you and Mama going?”

“We’ll just go and get the horses ourselves. Now, you heard your mother! Get! And take Sam Houston with you. That fool cat has been after your mother’s canary all morning. Next time you run off, take him with you.”

Shoulders slumped, heads down, the little bandits trudged off to fetch their ponies. The big orange-and-white tomcat trotted after them, tail flicking back and forth.

Ash put an arm around Tamsin’s shoulders and chuckled. “Rascals, both of them.”

“All three,” she said. “Sam Houston climbed up my lace curtains and left a dead mole on the back step.”

Ash rubbed his face in Tamsin’s hair. “Don’t be too hard on Sam Houston. He’s just keeping critters out of your flower garden.” He tilted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Sure you wouldn’t rather go to services than round up horses with me? We’ve got enough wranglers on this ranch.”

She smiled up at him. “And Sunday’s their day off. What if they want to go to church? Besides, I think I like riding off with you into the sunset. We could pack a little supper—”

“And a blanket,” he added.

“I remember what happened the last time I went picnicking alone with you.” She patted her rounding belly. “Another Morgan.”

“Maybe it will be a girl this time.”

“I’d like that,” she said softly. “But I wouldn’t mind another boy either. I’ve grown quite fond of my three men.”

Ash glanced up toward the sprawling adobe ranch house sheltered beneath the flowering trees. “We’ve done all right for ourselves in California, haven’t we, woman?”

“I’ve done all right since I met you,” she replied.

“You just say that because it’s true,” he teased, then raised her chin and kissed her tenderly.

“I love you, Ash Morgan,” she whispered.

“And I love you, Tamsin Morgan.”

The bay colt whinnied, and Tamsin laughed softly. “You’re certain you don’t miss your old life,” she murmured. “Free as the wind, riding wherever your fancy takes you?”

“Bad joke,” he said. “More like wherever your Dancer takes me.”

“Sorry.” She grimaced. “It was the best one I could think of at the moment.”

He pushed the brim of his hat up. “Mrs. Morgan, has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

“No, sir,” she replied sweetly. “I don’t remember that they have.”

He sighed, knowing defeat when he heard it. “Fetch your picnic supper, wife. I’ll saddle the horses. And ask Maria if she’ll put the boys to bed when they come home from church. I’ve a feeling we’ll be spending tonight under the stars together.”

“Me, too,” she murmured.

He pulled her into his arms. And this time, the kiss he and Tamsin shared was as deep and sensual as the passion they shared for each other, their children, and this big, beautiful, new land.

THE EDITOR’S CORNER

Welcome to Loveswept!

Cure your spring fever with our blazing hot May releases:

If you love stories that combine thrilling mysteries with sweet and sexy romance, don’t miss Judith E. French’s
MORGAN’S WOMAN
and Katie Rose’s
A CASE FOR ROMANCE
. These electrifying reads will keep your pulse racing and your heart melting.

And since we love Debra Dixon’s wonderful stories so much, we’re absolutely thrilled about her six Loveswept releases in May:
MIDNIGHT HOUR, MOUNTAIN MYSTIC, PLAYING WITH FIRE, SLOW HANDS, HOT AS SIN
, and
DOC HOLIDAY
. Pick one up and you’ll want to read them all!

If you love romance … then you’re ready to be
Loveswept
!

Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher

P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: In June, we have Ruthie Knox’s super-sexy e-original
ABOUT LAST NIGHT
, Gayle Kasper’s dazzling
HERE COMES THE BRIDE
, Rebecca Kelley’s charming
THE WEDDING CHASE
, and Sally Goldenbaum’s captivating
MOONLIGHT ON MONTEREY BAY
. July brings Elisabeth Barrett’s debut e-original novel, the brilliant
DEEP AUTUMN HEAT
, Kristen Kyle’s incredibly appealing
THE LAST WARRIOR
, and Adrienne Staff’s stunning
KEVIN’S STORY
. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come….

Read on for excerpts from more
Loveswept
titles …

Read on for an excerpt from Sandra Chastain’s
The Redhead and the Preacher

L
ATE
A
PRIL
—1860

M
CKENZIE
K
ATHRYN
C
ALHOUN
consoled herself afterward by saying that she hadn’t intended to commit a crime the day she took part in robbing the Bank of Promise in Promise, Kansas.

But the morning it happened, it wouldn’t have done her any good to claim innocence. It was far too late. The people in Promise had long ago given up on the rangy, red-haired girl who wore men’s clothes, quoted from the classics, and called herself Macky. She was considered as peculiar as her father and as wild and out of control as her shiftless brother had been.

Had Macky been anybody else, the town might have shown some consideration over her having buried her peace-loving father one day and learning the next that her brother, Todd, hadn’t shown up for the funeral because he’d dealt himself four aces in a crooked poker game. There was nothing unusual about that, except this time he’d been shot to death by another gambler who caught him cheating.

Macky could have told them that she had to sell her father’s horse to pay for his funeral and her own horse to pay for her brother’s, but nobody asked. All she had left the day of the holdup was a mule named Solomon, her mother’s cameo, and a worthless farm with the mortgage due. All she wanted to do was buy a stone for Papa’s grave and find a place where she could belong. Her plan to get even with the banker who’d cheated her father might fail, but that morning it was the only hope she had.

It was late April, the time of year when spring crops should be planted, but not on Calhoun land in Promise, Kansas. It was fitting, Macky thought, that a light snow had fallen the night before, scalloping the prairie with white ruffles like the fading memory of frothy waves back home in Boston’s harbor. Like everything else in her life, even the earth seemed to be moving away from her.

She closed her eyes for a moment to stop the spinning in her mind while she considered what to take with her. Deciding that it would be warmer to wear her clothes than carry them, she donned two of her brother Todd’s shirts, his trousers and his work boots, stuffed with rags so that she could keep them on.

Instead of the braid she normally wore to restrain her unruly mass of red hair, she tucked it beneath her papa’s felt hat. Finally, she rolled her only dress in her bedroll, along with the last of the cheese and bread.

Macky never had cared much about looking like a woman, but today even Papa wouldn’t have recognized the washed-out shell of a person she’d become. With her mother’s brooch tucked into the pocket of Papa’s coat, she mounted the mule and started into town.

As she rode away, she looked back. There was nothing else of value left; there were no more livestock, no food supplies, only a rundown house ready to collapse in the wake of the next windstorm. If her father hadn’t died of heart problems, he’d have died of starvation for there was no money left for seed that wouldn’t grow.

The only thing that gave her pause was leaving her father’s books. Carrying them would have been only a sentimental gesture for she’d memorized them long ago. Of all the things she’d lost, her conversations with her father would be the things she’d miss most.

Pulling her gaze away from the dismal scene, she gave the mule a slap on the rear. Today was Friday and payday for the banker’s cowhands. She had better hurry if she was going to catch the man before he left for his ranch. As she rode, she rehearsed her plea to the smart-talking moneyman who’d sold her gentle, scholarly father a worthless piece of land where nothing would grow but rattlesnakes and sagebrush.

If the banker-turned-land-dealer refused to buy back the land, Macky would sell her mother’s cameo for enough money to buy a ticket on the noon stage heading for Denver. The brooch was the last thing she owned of any value, that and Solomon, a mule so ornery no one would buy him.

Macky gave little thought about where she would go now. Her family had been outcasts every place they’d ever been; Papa with his fine education and inability to earn a living and Mama and Todd who always refused to try.

She didn’t expect to find a place where she fit in. God only knew where she’d ever find something she was good at. No man would want her as a wife; she was too outspoken, too plain, and she couldn’t cook. She might have been a schoolmarm, if she’d had the temperament and had been submissive enough to satisfy those who paid her salary. She might have been a governess if she’d paid more attention to her mother’s lessons of deportment.

But Macky was taught to think, to express herself and to do it openly as an equal. Macky sighed. The only thing she had to offer was something nobody would want—a quick mind.

About a mile outside of town, a hawk swooped down, clasped a frightened jackrabbit in his talons, and flew away. The sound of his wings spooked the mule, who stepped into a gopher hole and bolted. He deposited Macky in the middle of the trail and, braying at the top of his lungs, took off with her bedroll.

Macky let out an oath as she watched him race away. She was still fuming when four hard-riding men crested the hill and came to a stop where she’d fallen. One man was leading a horse with an empty saddle.

“Looks like you got trouble, boy!” The stranger who seemed to be the leader glanced at the disappearing mule, then moved closer. He had a scruffy gray beard and a bloody bandana tied around his forehead. He was riding a black horse with a fancy silver-trimmed saddle.

Boy?
One look at the cold expression in his eyes made Macky decide that being a boy at this point was much safer than being a girl. She nodded and came to her feet.

“What’s your name, son?”

“McKenzie,” she answered in the deepest voice she could manage.

“Heading to Promise?” another asked.

“Yep.”

“Folks there know you?” the leader asked.

Again, she nodded. They knew her, but that wasn’t likely to do these men any good if they were looking for someone to put in a word for them.

“How’d you like a ride the rest of the way to town, pick up a dollar or two? We got an extra horse.” The leader nodded at the black horse trailing behind them. “One of my men had a little accident a ways back and—stayed behind.”

Macky would have said no, but if she walked, she’d miss the noon stage. Once she made her decision to leave, catching that stage had become the most important thing she’d ever do.

She studied the man making the offer. She had nothing for them to steal and, as long as he didn’t know she was a girl, accepting his offer was less likely to give her away than refusing. Besides, Promise was only a short way down the trail, and once she reached town, she’d separate herself from these rough-looking men.

“Much obliged.”

Macky grabbed the saddle horn and vaulted onto the horse, kicking him into a steady gallop to keep up with her new companions. She wondered where they’d come from and what had happened to the man who stayed behind. All the horses had been ridden hard; their coats were icy with frozen perspiration. Why were they heading for a town that had little claim to fame other than the attempts by a few homesteaders to raise crops in an area where the only year-round water belonged to one man?

The leader slowed his horse, allowing Macky to come abreast of him. “What kind of place is Promise, kid?”

“Small,” she answered.

“We’re heading there to do a little banking. You can watch our horses while we’re inside.”

That hadn’t been part of Macky’s plan. At the moment, however, she couldn’t see a way out. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. The bank, standing between the blacksmith’s forge and the dressmaker’s shop, was the first thing they’d come to.

The men reined in their horses in front of the rustic building and slid to the street mushy with melting snow. Macky, anxious to separate herself from the strangers, stopped her horse in front of the smithy’s shop. She was already in enough trouble with the town; riding in with a group of strangers would only make matters worse. She’d just tie the horse to the hitching rail and disappear.

She soon found
that
wasn’t going to work. “Watch the horses, boy,” the man with the beard said as he climbed down and dropped the reins to his horse.