An Unwilling Husband. Tera Shanley

was foolish to care. Garret Shaw hadn’t managed to say a single civil thing to her since she’d arrived in Rockdale, so why should she care if she ruined any chance of him being with that Jennings woman? He was the one who’d insisted on marrying her, and now he would strap her with this pestering guilt over ruining his chance at love? Absurd!

      The tips of her ears grew hot. They had likely turned bright red as they did only when she was truly upset, but that did nothing to calm her escalating fury.

      She followed Lenny into town, as the girl seemed to know exactly where to find the men of the Lazy S and rode straight to a building called the Brass Buckle. From inside came the sounds of women singing and laughing drunkenly. Loose women, no doubt. A saloon.

      “Really?” Maggie raised an eyebrow at Lenny.

      Her companion looked around as if she were uncomfortable. Passersby stared at her and Lenny, open mouthed. The townspeople’s reaction could very well have been caused by the sight of an unfamiliar lady with full skirts flowing off the back of a buckskin horse as she pulled up before a notorious saloon. More likely, because Lenny was Indian.

      The girl’s frown drifting to the vicinity of the saddle horn said she thought along the same lines.

      Maggie pulled her mount closer to Lenny’s and glared down the closest man, but the girl jumped off skillfully, took Buck’s reins and twitched her head to the side, signaling her to dismount. After she had done so, Lenny led the horses off in the direction of a crude stable near a hotel.

      “Okay, now what,” Maggie mumbled, squinting at the saloon doors.

      * * * *

      “Danged woman,” Garrett muttered as he lifted another shot of cheap whiskey to his aching forehead. He’d seen his dad drown himself in the bottle too many times to count, so rarely drank the throat-scorching liquor. Now at the tail end of the week he’d had though, he’d try anything to escape his misfortune, even if just for a little while.

      Down the counter to his left, Burke talked up a woman on his lap. A saloon girl, wearing a bright blue dress with black lace trim cut so low at the neck, her plump womanly attributes were likely to tumble out. Her hair was piled in curls on top of her head. The amount of rouge on her face did little to hide her bad skin and even worse breeding. More than three quarters of the way to being unable to see a hole in a ladder, Burke didn’t seem to mind in the least. Lucky him.

      The boys always took rooms above the saloon when they stayed in town. The railroad had only come through a few years before, but the saloon was their traditional place to cut loose when they drove the cattle in. Before the train, they’d had to drive the cattle at least a month to make it to other cattle towns further north. After his nicer digs in Georgetown, the Brass Buckle left him unimpressed, but the men had worked hard for him. The hands deserved a break where they wanted.

      If not for the blasted guilt niggling at him, he’d lose his mind and take one of the whores upstairs. But he was a married man now, and it meant something.

      He sighed and downed his drink.

      “Ahem,” someone said in a dainty, ridiculous accent as the saloon doors swung creakily open. “Has anyone seen Mr. Garrett Shaw?”

      Maggie stood at the front of the room, searching for someone with her gaze and looking every bit the lamb in the lion’s den. He had seen all of her dresses. This was the plainest one she owned, but still leaps and bounds fancier than was fashionable here. Her hair was pulled back and pinned like some frilly woman in a catalog picture, and the small, frail looking hat she wore did nothing to help her fit into her surroundings. She was a striking young woman, he had to admit, but must be lacking in brains if she thought it a good idea to show up at the Brass Buckle. Men and whores only. The sign outside said as much.

      “What now?” he muttered, slammed his shot glass on the table, and threw some change on the counter. “Thanks, Milly.”

      The woman behind the bar nodded and continued to wipe the wooden top with a rag.

      He spun around and strode up to Maggie in long strides that echoed off the silent walls of the saloon. “Sorry for the interruption, fellas,” he said to the men, who had as one frozen in whatever position they’d been in when she’d arrived. He grabbed her hand and barged out of the saloon with her in tow.

      “Unhand me, you…you…barbarian! What on earth makes you think you can handle a woman like this?”

      Legs locked against any forward motion, she wrenched her hand out of his grip. She stared at him as if she actually expected him to apologize.

      “What’re you doing here, Maggie?” He was furious and there was an edge to his voice, but so what?

      She opened her mouth and shut it. Then, dammit, opened it again. “What are you doing here, Garrett Shaw? Four days married and already seeking out a loose woman? You’ve made it clear you don’t respect me in any way, but this is unacceptable.”

      He growled. Must the woman air their differences for the entire blasted town to see? Howie Raddick and his wife Hannah had pushed their way through the gathering crowd on the porch of the dry goods store to watch the show, and Raymond Hill was wearing the biggest, dumbest grin he’d ever seen. Any minute now, that trouble stirrer would be clapping and cheering the argument on.

      He pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to relieve the tension building just behind his eyes. What could he say to her? She had a point. He knew how it looked. “Where is your horse?”

      “Lenny took him over to that stable by the hotel, I think.”

      “Lenny’s here, too?” Aw, hell. If she’d braved coming into town, something big had spooked her. He headed off in the direction of the stable, leaving Maggie to trot after him. “What’s happened? I know Lenny wouldn’t come into town without good reason,” he said when she’d almost caught up to him.

      “I need to talk to you about something,” she said low, casting glances at the gawkers. “In private, if you don’t mind.”

      He slid her a glare. Someone petite and soft smelling collided with him. Anna, wearing a light blue dress and toting a feminine-looking umbrella. Hell and damnation.

      “Oh! Mr. Shaw!” Anna exclaimed.

      Arranging his expression into one of politeness, he caught her arms to keep her upright.

      Any man could see the woman was pretty, with her blond hair neatly pinned in a bun and eyes the color of a clear spring sky. Her lips were full and pouty, and the color that rose on her cheeks was becoming on her. He could almost see Maggie bristling at the way Anna smiled at him. “Miss Jennings. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you coming,” he said.

      Anna laughed, a charming tinkling sound. “That’s fine, Mr. Shaw. I didn’t see you either, though I should have seen a man your size comin’ from a mile away.” She leaned into him and whispered, “I must say, it has been my pleasure runnin’ into you.”

      Garrett gave her a half smile. He rarely knew what to do with Anna’s boldness.

      Maggie stepped forward. “Hello, Miss Jennings, was it? Maggie Shaw. Pleased to meet you.”

      “Shaw?” A slight wrinkle furrowed Anna’s brow.

      In hopes of biting back the swear words ready on his tongue, he clamped his mouth shut. In no way did he want to explain the situation then, or ever, if he were completely honest. He’d dreaded this confrontation ever since his blasted agreement to Roy’s final request. Trouble was coming and he had no power to stop it.

      He cleared his throat. “Anna, I’d like to introduce you to my wife.” Though he’d bitten out the last word like a curse, for the first time that he’d called her his wife, it still counted.

      Maggie shivered beside him like she’d taken a chill. Simultaneous dirty looks from he and Anna stilled her quickly enough though, thank God.

      “You’re married to her?” Anna didn’t even