Hank's Rescued Bride (The Dalton Brides #5)
Contents
About This Book
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Excerpts
The Dalton Brides:
Hank’s Rescued Bride
Cassie Hayes
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ABOUT THIS BOOK
She's a woman in need of a hero. Unfortunately, all she has is him.
Growing up in an orphanage, Maggie Bishop learned to never depend on anyone — except her sister, Mary. When Mary disappears after becoming a mail-order bride, Maggie suspects foul play and desperately needs help. But there’s a problem: The one person she can trust is the one person she despises most.
No woman in Beckham is immune to ‘Handsome Hank’ Blue’s considerable charms. Except for the beautiful, aloof and exasperating Maggie Bishop. The last time he spoke to her, he walked away with a handprint on his cheek! But Hank has bigger fish to fry.
Nearly two years have passed since he vowed to discover the secret of the evil men who eventually ruined the family business, and he isn’t any closer now than he was back then. So when Maggie tells him they are at the center of her sister’s disappearance, he jumps at the chance to uncover their dastardly plot.
As they search for her sister, Maggie discovers there’s more to Hank than just his pretty face and even prettier words. Only after Maggie is kidnapped does Hank realize there are more important things in life than vengeance. Will he rescue her before she’s lost forever or is he already too late?
~ ~ ~
Hank’s Rescued Bride is part of The Dalton Brides series:
The Rancher’s Mail-Order Bride by Kirsten Osbourne
The Cowboy’s Mail-Order Bride by Kit Morgan
The Drifter’s Mail-Order Bride by Cassie Hayes
Hank’s Rescued Bride by Cassie Hayes ~ NEW!
Benedict’s Bargain Bride by Kirsten Osbourne ~ NEW!
Percy’s Unexpected Bride by Kit Morgan ~ NEW!
Keep reading for extended excerpts from Benedict’s Bargain Bride and Percy’s Unexpected Bride.
Prologue
Outside the Dalton Ranch, Christmas Night, 1888
“I told you we shouldn’t have come,” Hank Blue grumbled, poking the campfire with a stick.
He and his two brothers, Benedict and Percival, had traveled all the way from Beckham, Massachusetts to North Texas only to have their big sister, Bonnie, shove a shotgun in their faces. On Christmas Day, no less! Of course, they had sort of tried to kidnap her and their two other sisters, Gwen and Libby, so it probably evened out.
“You know as well as I do that we didn’t have a choice, Hank.” Benedict was the oldest Blue brother, and the bossiest.
Normally Ben was brusque and bullying, but right now, sitting on his grimy bedroll and staring into the fire, he seemed almost contemplative. This worried Hank more than a shotgun aimed at his head because Ben wasn’t known for being much of a thinker. He was all action.
“What do we do now?” Hank asked. He honestly didn’t have a clue how to proceed.
Everyone assumed the Blue sisters had skipped town out of shame for causing a huge scandal — one that turned out to be false — but Hank secretly knew better. Papa had arranged for three old deacons from their church, creepy old men who somehow had the respect of all the businessmen in town, to marry Bonnie, Gwen and Libby.
Hank was outraged on their behalf, but Papa wouldn’t listen to him. If Benedict had argued against the plan, they’d probably all be enjoying a cup of wassail and opening presents together back in Beckham right now, instead of sitting hunkered around a sad little campfire on the cold North Texas prairie.
But his big sister Bonnie had plans of her own. She somehow arranged for husbands for the three Blue girls through the woman who ran the mail order bride agency in town, Elizabeth Miller. They were sneaking out of the house under cover of darkness when Hank caught them.
He smiled remembering how he almost laughed at tiny Bonnie’s threats of physical harm if he blabbed their secret, but she needn’t have worried. He’d been trying to figure out ways to help them ever since Papa set up the marriages, anyway.
For months, he’d been true to his word, even as Ben and Papa worked diligently to figure out where the Blue sisters had run off to. Even on the long train ride to Weatherford, Texas, as Ben and Percy wondered aloud what the women were up to. Even as they rode hard across the prairie once they found out the Dalton triplets had taken them to their ranch.
But not spilling their secret meant he had to play along with his father, as much as he hated to. He still couldn’t for the life of him figure out why the deacons were so desperate to have them — in the eyes of the townsfolk, they were all soiled doves — but after they paid a visit to the family’s mercantile, he’d been left with no choice but to join his brothers on a quest to retrieve their sisters.
“I think we should go back there and teach those ol’ lop-eared, wall-eyed cow punchers a lesson, and take what we came for,” sneered Percy.
Hank and Ben could only shake their heads at their little brother. At twenty, he still had a lot of growing up to do, thanks to being so spoiled by their folks. He had a heckuva lip on him, and had been on the receiving end of both their fists more times than he had fingers. All Hank knew was that Percy was pretty hard to like these days.
“Think again, brothers,” said a voice in the dark. They all reached for their pistols — Bonnie had relieved them of their shotguns back at the ranch — but the sound of a shotgun being cocked stayed their hands.
“Kick ‘em away,” said the man’s voice.
He had them over a barrel. Percy looked like he wanted to snatch up his gun from the ground but what little good sense he had must have kicked in. The moment their guns were far out of reach, the man stepped into the light of the fire. It was Bonnie’s husband Bart!
“What are you doing here, you slimy, yellow-bellied—“
“For the love of all that’s holy, Percy, shut yer trap,” Hank hissed. To his credit, Percy settled down but wouldn’t stop glaring at their new brother-in-law.
Bart looked at each of them in turn, but settled his cool gaze on Hank, for some reason. “You boys got a visitor, and I expect gentlemanly behavior from all o’ ya. I’ll be right over here with this fine Winchester, in case you get any funny ideas.”
A big chestnut horse sidled into the ring of light, with Bonnie perched on his back, one hand protectively covering her small but growing belly. Her lips were drawn thin and worry lines etched her brow. Back at the ranch, she looked angry; now she looked plain worried.
No one said a word. Hank couldn’t stand the silence any longer, so he took a half-step forward and nodded up at her, begging with his eyes for her forgiveness. “Good to see you, Bonnie,” he murmured.
“I’d like to say the same, Hank, but seeing as how you all nearly destroyed poor Libby’s home in your attempt to kidnap us, I can’t.”
Hank could see Percy’s hackles rise at the accusation. “Kidnap?! We was just doing what Papa told us to do, Bonnie. ‘Bring them girls
back no matter what,’ he said. And I, for one, aim to—“
The jerk of a beautifully maintained — and cocked — Winchester silenced the smartmouth. Hank wouldn’t be surprised if Percy needed a change of pants after the night they’d had.
“Bonnie, get down off that old nag,” ordered Benedict. “I don’t like lookin’ up at ya.”
“Too bad,” growled Bart, slowly panning the gun’s sights over to Ben.
“My husband is, understandably, concerned for his family’s safety. The only way I could convince him to track you down so we could talk was to agree to do so from the back of Roamer here.”
Back home, Bonnie had never been interested in horses, or any kind of livestock, for that matter. Of course, she learned to ride, but it wasn’t her favorite pastime. Now here she was, looking like the queen of the horsewomen, married to a rancher. Hank marveled at the changes in her — in all of his sisters, really — and hated what he had to tell her.
Approaching her, but maintaining a respectful distance when he saw the shotgun slide his way, Hank said, “Bonnie, I’m so sorry…”
A single tear spilled down her cheek as she gazed down at him. “Why, Hank? What’s going on? I know you wouldn’t betray us like this for no reason.”
He glanced back at his brothers. Ben looked determined and Percy was still riled. Best this came from him anyway, since he’d always been Bonnie’s favorite.
“It’s the deacons, y’see…” He wasn’t sure how to begin.
Her nose crinkled at the mention of the lecherous old men — Deacons Smith, Bellafonte and Jackson — she’d gone to great lengths to escape. “What about them? Back at Libby’s, Percy said something about them paying you. Is that what this is all about? Money?”
Hank shook his head but couldn’t meet her eye. “No, not in the way you think. They’re blackmailing Papa.”
“What on earth—“
Now that he had the hard part out, it all came rolling out of him like a raging river. “They came to the mercantile about a month after you left. Mama and Papa kept it all very quiet, hoping to bide their time, and maybe hoping you’d come back home with your tail between your legs. But you know how Beckham can get. I guess folks started talking, saying they were keeping you prisoners, or that you’d run off. When the deacons heard the last rumor, they came over demanding to see all three of you.”
“They were spending bags full of money to arrange the perfect weddings for you three ingrates!” Percy spit at her. When Bart’s gun moved his way, the dumb brat just glared him down.
“Then what?” Bonnie prodded, ignoring their little brother.
Hank was about to continue when Ben butted in. “Then, sweet sister, they told me and Papa that they would see the mercantile burned to the ground and our good name dragged through the mud, even more than it already has been, if we didn’t bring you back to them.”
Even in the dim light of the fire, Bonnie paled noticeably. “Burn…?”
“That’s right,” Ben snapped. “You were so selfish that you ran away from the men you were betrothed to and now they’re going to destroy our entire family!”
Bonnie leveled her cool gaze on Benedict. “Would you bind yourself for the rest of your life to someone forced on you, Ben? Someone you found despicable beyond words?”
Only then did Benedict’s resolve waver. He blanched and couldn’t meet her gaze. Clearly he’d never thought of it that way before. Typical. Percy even had the grace to blush.
“I just can’t figure out why on earth they would want the likes of us so badly,” Bonnie muttered, staring into the crackling fire. She was right, of course. None of this made a lick of sense, and Hank had looked at it from every angle he could think of on the trip to Texas.
Minutes ticked by while Bonnie’s brain worked and her husband held them in his sights. Finally, she lifted her gaze to Hank’s.
“Something’s very wrong in Beckham, Hank. Those deacons want us for some other reason than their undying love, and you need to figure out what it is. All three of you do, if you want to continue claiming me as your sister. Shame on you for behaving like brutes and ruining Christmas!”
Benedict and Percy fidgeted under her stern glare. They’d worked each other up on the train trip, somehow talking themselves into believing they were doing the right thing. It took Bonnie’s sharp wit to show them the error of their ways. The silence that fell on the small gathering said more than words ever could, but Hank was relieved when Ben said them anyway.
“Bonnie, can you ever forgive us? I can’t believe we almost delivered our own sisters into the hands of those devils.”
Bart chuffed. “I’d hardly say ‘almost’, fellas. You woulda had to get past the Dalton brothers first, then you woulda had to somehow wrangle that shotgun out of my beautiful wife’s hands.” He chuckled again, telling them exactly what he thought of that proposition.
“What’s done is done,” Bonnie interrupted. “I’m sorry that Papa got us mixed up in all this, but now we need to figure out what to do.”
“What can we do?” whined Percy.
“Well, for starters, you can figure out what the deacons really wanted with us. I promise you, it wasn’t for anything good. Then you can do everything possible to save the mercantile. If all else fails, everyone can come live with us on the ranch. Isn’t that right, Bart?”
The man’s eyes narrowed slightly and cut over to Bonnie. Finally, he nodded. “So long as they don’t ever disrespect you or your sisters again. If they do, they’re on their own.”
Hank couldn’t help but notice the slight upward twist of Bonnie’s lips at her husband’s loyalty. Didn’t matter that the man was holding a gun on them, Hank liked Bart tremendously. Hank was the only other person who’d ever stood up for Bonnie. A twinge of sadness over being replaced slipped through him but faded quickly. Bonnie was well-loved, and he couldn’t be happier for her.
Shaking in his boots, Hank took a step toward Bart, stretching out his open hand. “Sounds not only downright fair, it’s better than we deserve. Thank you kindly, Bart.”
Bart glanced at Bonnie, then turned the barrel of the gun away — though he very pointedly didn’t set it down — and shook Hank’s hand. “Any brother of Bonnie’s is a brother of mine…so long as they act like one.”
After each Blue brother apologized and shook Bart’s hand, Bonnie smiled down on them. “Well, brothers, it’s time we head back home, and you need to do the same. You let us know if we can do anything to help. We’re family and, if we all stick together, everything will work out fine.”
Hank wasn’t so sure.
Chapter 1
Beckham, Massachusetts — September, 1890
Hank Blue made his way down a row of bottles, methodically wiping the dust from each. The Blue Family Mercantile carried a little of everything, from vanilla extract to Stickney and Poor’s Pure Paregoric, which was really just high-tension hooch with a pinch of opium added for good measure. A year earlier, they wouldn’t have been able to keep any of it in stock, but now…
“Henry, keep an eye on the store while Benedict and I go to the bank.”
Hank sighed. “Papa, do you really think Mr. Powell is going to change his mind about giving us an extension? He’s already turned us down twice.”
The defeated look in his father’s eyes nearly killed him. For over twenty-five long years, Mr. Blue had worked tirelessly to build the Blue Family Mercantile into a thriving enterprise. He always planned to leave it to his sons, but ever since Hank and his brothers had come back from Texas empty-handed, Deacons Smith, Bellafonte and Jackson had made it their mission in life to ruin the family.
First, people started looking at them funny, and whispering whenever they passed. Then they started shopping at Crowther’s, a new general store that opened up down the street, even though it had a terrible selection. Then the bank called the loan Papa had taken out to make ends meet during the slump. There was no question in anyone’s mind: The deacons were exacting
their revenge.
But for what? Hank and his brothers had come back from Texas ready to find out exactly what the deacons were up to in Beckham, but the harder they tried, the less they discovered. It had been nearly two years and the Blue brothers were no closer to discovering their secret plot than when they left.
“Do you have a better idea, son?” his father said, interrupting his thoughts. “Because I’m fresh out of ‘em. I can’t sit here and do nothing, and watch my life’s work wither away.”
Ben wrapped a bulky arm around their father’s drooping shoulders. “That’s right, Papa. If we’re gonna lose the store, we’re gonna do it kicking and screaming and fighting to the bitter end. Thought you were with us on this, Hank.”
“‘Course I am, Ben. I just…” They didn’t wait for him to finish.
Something had changed inside Hank over the last several months. Where he used to be a happy-go-lucky dandy, he was now mired in hopelessness. There was nothing to look forward to anymore, except maybe moving to Texas and seeing his sisters again. But even that would be tainted by failure. Failure of the store, failure to discover the deacons’ secret, failure to be the man he wanted to be. At 23, that was quite a burden.
It was his third time restacking eight full bolts of fabric when the bell over the door jingled. It was about time Percy showed up. That boy had been acting up more and more as the days passed, and now he’d taken to skipping his shifts at the store. Strange that he was only a year younger than Hank; he was behaving like a child.
“Took long enough to get here,” Hank said, fanning the bolts so big wedges of fabric were nicely displayed. Not that it mattered. Not a single bolt had been touched since they came in more than a month earlier.
“I’m sorry, were you expecting me?”
Hank nearly knocked over the display at the sound of a woman’s voice. Then he nearly choked when he spun around and saw who was standing just inside the shop’s door.