Epilogue

EPILOGUE

" K eep 'em closed. No peeking." Edgar cupped his hand over Fran's eyes just in case.

She sighed. Then giggled.

"You know I saw the cabin yesterday," she reminded him.

"But the roof wasn't on yesterday," he parried right back.

Riding his big black with her just in front of him gave him the perfect opportunity to hold her close—so he did, as he guided the horse up the hill to their newly finished home.

Home.

He hadn't realized that the word could mean a person. He knew that now, no matter where he went, with Fran by his side, he'd be home.

After two weeks together, the emotion, the completeness, still brought that uncomfortable warmth to his chest. Only he was getting used to it now.

They crested the hill where he'd first shown her his dream spot for building a cabin of their own. Between his brothers working with him well into the night for several days, and a house-raising party the folks of Bear Creek had held the previous weekend, Fran would have a home of her own. Today.

Just in time for his parents' homecoming later that afternoon.

He was looking forward to having Fran to himself. He thought Breanna would probably be happy to share her room with Emma for a bit, and Daniel planned to stay with the brothers in the bunkhouse.

Between the rush to finish their house and the heavy spring chores, he felt like he'd barely seen his wife since he'd come home from selling the cattle. But now that was all about to change. Even though the chores would continue—ranch life necessitated that—he would have time in the evenings with her.

His brothers had teased him mercilessly, but he'd also caught the tail end of a conversation that sounded like they were planning on letting him take it easy for several days, a sort-of "working honeymoon."

The old Edgar might've insisted on taking on his share of the work, but with his new outlook on life and love, he would take their gift and be thankful.

He was unaccountably nervous about showing the finished place to Fran. As she'd said, she'd been up there every day, checking on the progress as the place was built.

But what if she didn't like it?

She hadn't said as much, but he imagined her parents' home and the finishing school she'd attended in Memphis had been well-appointed, nice.

But this was all he had to offer her. It was snug, but small. He'd modeled it after Oscar's place, with hewn logs for the walls and glass windows where he could fit them.

It was a house that could survive many Wyoming winters, a place they could grow old in together.

Maybe with a passel of kids around them.

"All right." He drew up the horse a few yards away from the front door. "No peeking."

He slid off the horse and reached up for her.

She came into his arms, eyes still closed, totally trusting him. It was a gift he couldn't take for granted, not after what had happened—and what could've happened—with Underhill.

Her nose wrinkled adorably. "Did you light a fire?"

With her waist already in his hands, he took the opportunity to draw her to his chest, tucking her in close. "Had to test the new cookstove," he said against her temple. "Didn't want the place burning down around you the first time you make my supper."

She hummed, the soft noise vibrating through his chest. Then pushed against him. "I thought you were going to show me the house, not sneak me away up here to steal kisses."

He brushed one across her cheek. "Maybe it was both."

Then he let her go, gently spinning her with his hands at her waist to face the house. "All right, you can open your eyes now."

With her in front of him, he could only see the side of one cheek, but she gasped and then looked back at him, and her eyes were shining.

And all the long nights and backbreaking work were suddenly worth it.

"You planted flowers?" she asked, turning back toward the house and taking several steps forward. He followed.

He'd thought the two scraggly bushes and overturned mud that Seb had insisted on planting on either side of the doorway had been ridiculous, but maybe his brother had been right.

"Roses," he said. "Gift from Seb and a lady in town."

"And you've washed the windows," she murmured.

"Emma."

She paused halfway to the building and craned her neck back. "The roof looks good. Nice and watertight."

He couldn't help that his chest puffed with pride.

"And you didn't let Daniel fall and break his neck, either."

And he deflated with a laugh. Fran definitely didn't allow his pride to get out of control. "It was a close call. Several times."

Her eyes danced at him.

He had been surprised that Fran's brother had wanted to help with their new place. The city-slicker was as out of place as a peacock in a henhouse. But he'd promised to stay until the girls were settled. Who knew? Maybe the fresh Wyoming air would do him some good in getting back to full health.

"Can we go in?" Fran asked.

He ushered her to the front door.

She went still so quickly that he was half outside the threshold, eyes trying to adjust from being in the bright sunlight. He guessed she'd seen his wedding gift for her.

"What did you do?" She barely breathed the words.

"You wrote a letter on my behalf," he said. "I took it upon myself to do the same. Dan told me that his health had kept him from saving most of your parents' belongings when the mortgage defaulted, but I was able to get in touch with a nice lady who sent this on the train for me."

He'd left the cedar chest in the dead center of the living room, so it would be the first thing she saw when she came in.

She knelt in front of the long wooden box, hands shaking as she spread them on the worn, scarred top.

"I can't believe you did this."

She pushed open the lid and froze again. He thought he heard her sniffle so he moved up beside her.

She reached inside and held up a white, fancy-looking dress. "It's my grandma's wedding dress." She said the words almost reverently.

"Well, it's too late for you, but maybe Emma can wear it in a few years."

She sent a wobbly smile over her shoulder. "I was thinking the same thing."

Next, she untucked a stack of faded letters tied with a ribbon. "My papa sent them to my mama when they were courting."

And in the bottom was a family portrait. It was several years old, because she'd been a teenager in it, but it had all five members of her family together.

She set it down gently in the chest, then got to her feet and threw herself at him.

He caught her and her arms went around his neck.

"You're not upset?" he asked, because he still couldn't be sure about all feminine emotions.

She shook her head, the top of her hair brushing his still-shaved chin. "I'm so…happy. I can't believe—it's the best gift I've ever received."

She raised up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Moments later, he held her face in one big paw. "That's exactly how I feel about you. You're the best gift God could have surprised me with."

Thank you for reading THE WRANGLER'S INCONVENIENT WIFE. I hope you loved Ed and Fran's romance. Looking for more marriage of convenience? Try WILD HEART'S HAVEN.

"Hollis will be out with the lead wagon."

The woman walking beside Owen Mason barely acknowledged his words, and he felt a stirring of irritation. He worked to quash it.

Rachel Duncan might be the stubbornest, most independent woman he'd ever met. Her dark honey-colored hair and blue-eyed gaze might've been pleasing if not for the irritation he felt every time she opened her mouth to speak. She bothered him like a burr under his saddle. Made his skin itch like it was crawling with ants.

And Owen had promised to marry her.

That's why he needed Hollis Tremblay, the wagon master of their company. To perform the ceremony.

The sun had been up for almost an hour. The wagon train camp along the Platte River was bustling with activity as every traveler, even the children, helped prepare to pull out for the day. Their caravan had been on the trail West to Oregon for weeks now, and the company knew the routine for readying for a day of travel.

Owen needed to find Hollis, fast. The bugle—the signal to pull out—was about to blow. He skirted a girl no older than ten who was trying to shoo two chickens into a large wicker basket.

"Sorry."

He glanced over his shoulder at Rachel's murmured apology to see chickens scattering in opposite directions. The girl's basket was on the ground, and she was glaring at Rachel.

Rachel had one hand pressed against her opposite elbow, as if she'd bumped it.

Probably bumped it on the little girl. Had she run into her?

It was plausible, given Rachel's condition. The woman was due to give birth in the next few weeks. He doubted she could see her feet when she was standing up, and she was clumsy. He'd seen it himself, watched her knock over a pail of fresh water from the creek because she hadn't seen it on the ground in front of her.

She caught his gaze and her lips pinched. She always wore a sour expression when she looked at him.

Guilt surged. Maybe he deserved it.

The wound in his arm—a thin line between a scrape and a cut on the outside of his biceps—pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He slowed his stride slightly so she could keep up, but the urgency inside him didn't go away.

He wanted to get this over with.

Owen came across Leo Spencer and his wife, near their wagon. His older half-brother had fallen in love on the earliest days of the trail and married Evangeline.

Their campsite was packed up. The fire had been stamped out. Evangeline's young sister, Sara, played on the wagon seat, away from the dangerous hooves of the oxen already in their traces.

Judging by the way he and Evangeline stood so close against the wagon, Leo must've thought everyone else around was too busy to pay attention. Leo was the same height as Owen, and sometimes looking at him was akin to looking at Owen's own reflection. They both resembled their late father with his dark hair and eyes.

Leo had his arms around Evangeline's waist, and as Owen watched, he raised one hand to brush against Evangeline's cheek. The clear affection and love in Leo's expression twisted Owen up inside.

It didn't matter. Owen had no use for a love match. Or any match at all. He was only going through with this because it was the right thing to do.

Leo must've caught sight of Owen striding through camp because he glanced over his shoulder and then dropped his hand, though he didn't look embarrassed to be caught snuggling his wife.

"You seen Hollis?" Owen called.

Leo shook his head negatively. "You seen Coop?"

"I haven't," Owen responded. Coop was Leo's younger brother, no relation to Owen.

Owen halted abruptly and Rachel almost plowed into him. He stopped her forward momentum with a hand on her elbow, though he quickly dropped it, shaking out the ache from his wound.

She gave him a squinty-eyed glare when he turned to her. "Why don't you wait here? I'll go fetch Hollis."

"It will be quicker if I go with you."

He couldn't recall a conversation with Rachel where she hadn't argued with him. Irritation stung like nettles all over his skin. He rolled his shoulders to try and get rid of the feeling. The pulse of pain in his arm grew more intense and then faded.

"We'll need witnesses anyway." He was aware of Leo's sharp sideways glance, but continued, "Just stay put."

He heard the gurgle of her stomach. His eyebrows raised of their own volition. "Have you eaten anything today?"

Her frown was answer enough.

He looked past Rachel to Evangeline, who was speaking to Sara. He called out, "Can you help Rachel scrounge up some breakfast?"

Evangeline murmured a quiet, "Of course," but he was already striding away, intent on finding Hollis so he could get this over with.

Leo jogged to fall into step beside Owen.

"What do you need Hollis for? And witnesses?"

Owen wasn't used to being on the other end of Leo's big brother inquisition. Leo was three years older, which made Owen the same age as Collin and Coop, Leo's twin brothers from another father.

Owen had grown up in California, never knowing he had a brother and sister until his father had been dying of consumption and revealed it on his deathbed. Owen had made a difficult decision to go back east to try and find his siblings.

He was used to being the older brother. The problem solver. The responsible one.

And Owen had found them in a spot of trouble.

Leo hadn't wanted anything to do with Owen those first weeks. Owen thought things had smoothed over between them, but that muscle ticking in his brother's jaw maybe meant things were still a little tumultuous.

"What do you need Hollis for?" Leo repeated.

Owen might as well tell him. It wasn't easy to keep secrets on the trail. With only a flimsy piece of canvas between you and your next neighbor, it was far too easy to overhear conversations.

"I'm marrying Rachel."

Leo snorted, but then grew serious when he realized Owen wasn't joking. "You can't marry her. You hate each other."

"I don't hate her." He couldn't say she felt the same. Not for certain.

At their first meeting, she had been pointing a gun—empty at the time, but he hadn't known that—at Owen's younger brother, August. So Owen had tackled her to the ground. She'd been terrified, hiding from the men who had massacred her wagon train, and it had been dark. He hadn't realized until everything was over that she was a she , and that she was pregnant.

Even if she had forgiven him for that, there was other bad blood between them.

"Maybe you don't hate her, but you sure don't like her."

Leo was right. Owen and Rachel couldn't seem to help arguing at every turn.

He sighed and stopped, turning to face his brother.

"It's my fault Daniel got himself killed." It was the first time he'd said the words out loud. But not the first time he'd thought them.

Leo's frown deepened. "How d'you figure? Daniel was a bully who tried to steal a horse, then tried to steal a wagon."

Rachel's brother had been shot in the middle of a gunfight when Owen and Leo and the others from their company had been defending against an outlaw band who'd tried to murder them and steal their supplies and animals—the same outlaw band that had killed Rachel's other family.

"I should've tied him hand and foot," Owen said.

Or had one of the younger men hold him at gunpoint. Maybe given him a horse and sent him on his way.

Any choice but the one Owen had made could've resulted in a different outcome.

The other men from the wagon train—including the one Daniel had attempted to steal a horse from—had wanted him hanged. Owen had thought he was sparing Daniel's life to bring him to the fort.

Daniel hadn't survived that long.

And Owen might never forget the keening wail Rachel had let out when she'd seen her brother's lifeless body.

Leo's voice shook him out of that terrible memory. "Guilt isn't something to build a marriage on."

Leo was as serious as Owen had ever seen him. His voice held an edge Owen hadn't heard in weeks.

But at Leo's words, Owen felt his shoulders relax. "It's only until we reach Oregon," he told his brother. "Then we'll have it annulled."

Leo scowled.

"What?" Owen was honestly confused at his brother's response.

"You'd marry her and walk away?" Now Leo sounded offended. And as far as Owen was concerned, this wasn't his business.

"This isn't a love match." Owen couldn't help it. He bristled at Leo's commanding tone. "It's an agreement between the two of us."

Leo sneered. "It sounds like something our pa would've done. He left one wife behind easily enough."

Was that what Leo was worried about? "I won't leave her penniless."

Leo shook his head. "I thought you were different. But there's a lot of Pa in you, isn't there?"

Owen took offense to that. "Our father was an upstanding man. A man of honor?—"

"Except when he walked away from his family."

Leo's words felt like a slap. He wasn't done yet. "And you're gonna do the same. There's nothing honorable in what you're doing."

Leo whirled on his heel and stomped off, leaving Owen fuming. He strode through a couple of parked wagons, grateful there weren't any travelers nearby to have heard the words exchanged by the brothers.

Leo had no right to talk to him that way. Leo didn't understand.

Owen was trying to do right by Rachel. Maybe it wasn't entirely his fault that her brother was a no-account thief who didn't mind bullying his pregnant sister when he got drunk. But he'd been a part of what had happened.

Marrying Rachel meant she'd have the protection of his name until they reached Oregon. That was enough to settle the debt between them.

It didn't matter whether Leo liked it or not. Owen had lived his entire life, until the past nine months, believing he was the older brother. He'd been raised to do the right thing. Take responsibility. He took care of his own. He was a man.

And he was man enough to make this decision.

Rachel felt blood boiling in her face as she stood at Owen's side in front of Hollis.

The wagon master's brown-skinned face held a solemn expression. He was clean shaven and his dark brown eyes assessed her coolly from beneath his hat.

Prickles of awareness skittered over her skin, as if too many eyes were watching her. Owen had chosen a spot out of the way of foot traffic, blocked from the view of most of the company by a couple of parked wagons. So maybe the itch between her shoulder blades was her imagination. Or a result of her misgivings.

Owen's brother August was the only person she considered a friend on the wagon train. He stood slightly behind the two of them with his slender, beautiful wife Felicity at his side. The two witnesses she and Owen needed for their marriage to be valid.

It was telling that Leo Spencer hadn't reappeared when Owen had returned with Hollis.

She'd seen the way Leo had looked at her when he'd trotted off with Owen. She recognized the way he'd spoken to his brother. Arguing, that's what he'd done.

He didn't approve of her.

It seemed no one in this company did.

Hollis and Owen exchanged a wordless glance and her stomach dipped for a moment.

"You find me one person who will speak up for him," the wagon master had pointed to Daniel. "One person, and we'll take the two of you to the fort like my captains promised."

She blinked away the memory of the hard light in the wagon master's eyes, but the echo of that threat still burned like icy fire in her bones. Owen was one of the captains. Marrying him meant she would be a captain's wife. She couldn't be abandoned out here in the wild if she was a captain's wife.

Hollis moved his intense stare to Rachel. "You sure this is what you want?"

She couldn't forget her precarious position on the wagon train. Her voice caught as she replied, "I'm certain."

Owen didn't so much as twitch beside her. She couldn't help an awareness of the man anytime he was near. He was several inches taller than Evan had been. Her Evan had preferred a clean shave, while Owen sported several days' worth of dark stubble, as if he was too busy for neat grooming. Not unkempt. Just scruffy.

Hollis didn't ask them to face each other, just started reading from the prayer book he held in his hands.

"We're gathered here in the sight of God and these witnesses..."

She couldn't help thinking how different this was from her wedding to Evan, only two years ago.

The morning sun was beating down on her head and a breeze tugged strands of her hair into her eyes. The camp was noisy, with oxen bawling and children shouting. A dog barked.

When she'd married Evan, there'd been a reverent hush in the small church that she'd attended faithfully with her parents since she'd been a small girl. Her father had given her away. Her mother had sniffled back tears from the first pew.

Evan had faced her, his hands trembling slightly when he clasped hers.

Owen didn't so much as look at her.

"...considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained. First, for the procreation of children..."

She ignored the sudden smarting of tears behind her nose.

Evan would never know his child, the one she'd carried for eight months. He'd died violently, suddenly, a mere two weeks ago.

"...a remedy against sin and to avoid fornication..."

Hollis's words barely registered as she stared straight ahead. And when they did, she couldn't help the sniff. Owen could barely stand her. Surely she was the last person he'd want in that way.

They both knew this marriage was in name only. He'd said as much when he'd proposed to her—such as it was. He didn't think of her like that, and she had no romantic inclinations toward him. This was an agreement, only in place until they reached Oregon.

"...for the mutual society, help, and comfort that the one ought to have for the other, both in prosperity and adversity."

Now Owen did twitch. His head tipped slightly toward her. She'd registered the movement before she'd thought better of it and found herself caught in his blue-eyed gaze. He would've been handsome, if she could stand him.

She should feel a pang of guilt, shouldn't she? Hollis's words as part of the ceremony—such as it was—were the crux of her dilemma. She needed Owen's company, needed his help.

His eyes narrowed slightly and she dropped her gaze.

She couldn't imagine the man offering her comfort. Not with the way he felt about her. The way they felt about each other.

His name and his help were enough.

She still couldn't understand why he'd made the offer to marry her, but she wasn't fool enough to turn it down.

She had nothing to offer him. No worldly goods. No money. He couldn't want her company.

But it mattered not what his motives were. He'd promised to get her to Oregon. Somehow, she'd beg or borrow money to tag along with an eastbound company. Go home.

More tears smarted at the thought of the small cottage she'd shared with Evan—sold now, and most of their furniture with it. Of her mother, back in the small town where Rachel had grown up. Rachel blinked the tears away.

The baby twisted strongly inside her and she couldn't hold back a small gasp. She pressed one hand against the lower part of her belly. This earned a look from both Owen and Hollis.

"Keep going?" Hollis asked.

Face flushed, she nodded.

"If any man can show just cause why these two should not be married, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."

For a moment, her chest locked tight with a breath that wouldn't draw. Would August speak?

I can't marry you. Not when my heart belongs to someone else. In a fit of desperation, she'd asked August to marry her, to protect her. He'd chosen Felicity instead. The two of them were clearly in love. He had to know Rachel was marrying his brother for mercenary reasons.

Surely August had concerns. Maybe the same ones Leo had.

But no one spoke until Hollis cleared his throat. "You two gonna face each other?"

It seemed to take an interminably long time for Owen's feet to shift. She hadn't intended to move until he did. When they fully faced each other, there was a faint frown on his lips.

"Clasp hands," Hollis said.

"That's all right?—"

"No, thank you?—"

Owen's refusal, spoken at the same time as Rachel's prim words, made August cough. Or was he covering a laugh? She found herself frowning. What made Owen balk over holding hands with her?

Hollis wasn't amused. "That wasn't a question. You want me to continue or not?"

There was a long beat before Owen reached out both hands, palms up.

Warily, she slipped her hands into his larger ones. His clasp was warm and dry.

"Wilt thou have this woman as thy wedded wife... Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her... as long as ye both shall live?"

Hollis's words knocked into her with the same force she'd felt that first night when Owen had tackled her to the ground.

It isn't real . But it didn't matter what she told herself.

There was no ignoring that the vows he'd asked Owen to agree to were the same ones that Evan had spoken two years ago. She felt as if she couldn't breathe.

"Owen," Hollis prompted.

His hesitation had grown noticeably long.

There was a fine line between his brows as he stared into her face. "I will."

Relief flowed over her, until Hollis said, "Wilt thou have this man to be thy husband..."

It isn't real. It's not a true marriage.

But no matter how much she argued with herself, the panicky feeling twisting inside her was a reminder that she was speaking these vows before God.

I can't do this.

"...obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and..."

She must do it. Say the words. Bind herself to Owen.

"I will," she whispered when Hollis finished speaking.

Owen was completely impassive. No hint of emotion crossed his expression. This was what she'd bound herself to for the duration of this journey?

It didn't matter. Couldn't. She didn't need him to care about her, to like her as a friend. She only needed to ensure her place on the wagon train.

But Hollis wasn't finished yet. They pledged their troth to each other, the memory of speaking the same words to Evan making her tear up unexpectedly.

It was only when Owen said quietly, "With this ring, I thee wed..." and pushed a simple silver ring over her knuckle to rest beside the gold band Evan had given her, that the enormity of what she'd done hit her.

She was married to Owen.

"I don't suppose you want to kiss her," Hollis drawled.

There was a faint flush high on Owen's cheeks.

"That's not necessary," she said fiercely.

Owen dropped her hands like her touch had burned him somehow.

"Pulling out in five," Hollis said. He'd tucked his Bible and prayer book beneath his arm and was already striding away.

And then August was there, slapping his brother's back. "Congratulations."

Owen shook his head as he stepped back. "Not necessary," he echoed her words from moments ago. One hand idly came up to rub his opposite biceps, where she knew he had a bullet wound beneath the sleeve of his shirt.

She was distracted when August swept her into a hug, his hands at her shoulders in a respectable way. She'd noticed that about him from the beginning. He was generous with his affection. A pat on the arm here, a hug for his adopted ward Ben, a young girl who'd been orphaned on the trail.

Owen was stingy with his touch. She'd never seen him embrace anyone.

Not that she wanted his touch. Or any man's.

When August let her go, he held her shoulders for a moment. "Come see me when my brother gets too bossy."

Felicity stepped close, but there was an uncertain moment, as if she didn't want to reach for a hug. Rachel had kept her distance from Felicity since August had made his preference for her clear.

Felicity stuck out her hand. "Congratulations."

Rachel shook it momentarily, finding a smile from somewhere. She wanted a moment alone. Wanted a wide bed in a bedroom that wasn't rolling across the prairie, a room with real walls. Wanted to curl up and let her muddled emotions find release.

But the bugle blew from not far away, blasting her ears. Her skin felt stretched too tight over her body. There was a rush of movement as stragglers rushed to put away their supplies. At the front of the company, the first wagon rolled into motion.

"Mason!" A male voice called out for Owen. As one of the captains of the company, he was often needed. Rachel should probably be glad that he hadn't been summoned in the few minutes it had taken them to wed.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, but she purposely tipped her chin in the other direction. He'd done enough for her this morning, hadn't he? Pushed his sister-in-law to get her breakfast, tracked down Hollis, married her.

August had disappeared, but Felicity hovered. What now?

The other woman offered a tentative smile. "I've got to track down Ben... would you want to come with me? Walk together today?"

Rachel guessed that August had put her up to it. He was a gentle soul who never wanted anyone to feel left out.

But the tightness in her lower back was a reminder that it was best not to be alone right now.

"Fine."

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