Secondhand Bride by Linda Lael Miller Read Free Book Online

matters straight where McKettrick was concerned? Hell, no. She’d turned on him, claws bared, said he’d spoiled everything, and that she wished she’d never had the misfortune to make his acquaintance in the first place.
    Jack’s chair creaked as he stood and stretched, the.44 a heavy reassurance against his right hip. Trying to comfort Chloe, after McKettrick hit the trail, he’d told her part of what he’d just learned from a drifter, down from Indian Rock: that her handsome lover was in need of a wife and a child, both of which he had to produce if he wanted to come into his inheritance, and that he was not particularly picky about where he dredged them up—but she’d thrown his wise counsel back in his face and threatened to shoot off his kneecaps with that derringer of hers if he didn’t get out of her sight and stay out.
    It was partly his own doing, he supposed, that she was so quick with that viperous little tongue of hers. He should have straightened her out long ago. Taught her to mind, like a woman ought to do.
    The inside door creaked open, and he almost went for his gun, but it was only one of the saloon girls, simpering at him from behind a veil of war paint. He tried in vain to recall her name, but it wasn’t forthcoming.
    “You feelin’ lonely, Jack?” she cooed.
    He was lonely, all right, but there was only one woman in the world who could ease his yearning, and that was Chloe. His wife. “Send the bartender’s boy over to Carson’s Livery,” he said, ignoring the implicit invitation. “Tell them to saddle my horse.”
    The tramp’s rouged mouth formed a pout. “You leavin’ us, Jack?”
    He snatched up his coat, from the back of one of the scarred chairs, and reached for his hat, lying in the middle of the table. “Yes,” he answered flatly. “Do as I tell you.”
    “Where you goin’?”
    He took a threatening step toward her, and she backed out of the doorway, blinking, turned on her heel, and ran to do his bidding.
    That, he thought, was more like it. Chloe could take a lesson or two from Little Miss No-name. He put on his hat, checked the .44 again, even though it was always loaded, and headed for the bar.
    Half an hour later, with several shots of whiskey under his belt to fortify him for the journey, Jack Barrett rode out, traveling north toward the high country.

6
     
     
    S arah Fee came to take the dirty dishes away and wipe down the tablecloth, and cowboys and local businessmen began to wander into the hotel dining room, greeting Becky, tossing curious glances Chloe’s way, and sitting down at other tables to order breakfast.
    “My office would be a better place to talk,” Becky said, looking and sounding distracted. She pushed back her chair and stood.
    Chloe followed suit, still feeling unsettled. Whatever Becky was getting ready to tell her about her uncle was obviously weighing on her mind.
    The small room behind the registration desk was neat and elegantly furnished, more suited to an Eastern parlor than an establishment like the Arizona Hotel.
    “Sit down,” Becky said, indicating a delicate chair covered in dark blue velvet. As Chloe complied, Becky settled herself behind the desk, with its beautifully turned legs. “Just before he died,” the older woman went on, “John asked me to look after you.”
    Chloe felt an ache deep in the center of her chest, and a lump formed in her throat. “We were close,” she said, “though we didn’t see much of each other after I grew up.” She’d barely reached her full growth the last time her uncle visited her stepfather’s expensive house in Sacramento; he’d said good-bye that day, with a note of finality in his voice and sorrow in his eyes, and promised to write. He’d kept that promise, but the crack he’d left in Chloe’s heart by going had never really healed.
    Becky drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, and tried to smile. “He loved you very much,” she said. “Up till now, I missed him for myself.