Chapter 2
Beckett Thorpe knew he was being as ornery as an old pack mule, but he couldn’t help himself when it came to Hyacinth. There was just something about the woman that brought out the worst in him.
The looks she’d been giving him since he showed up with his load of manure had been blistering enough to tan the hide off a steer. But his skin was a lot thicker than most men’s. Truth was, his skin had a whole bushel of burs buried in it, and he still kept going.
The other truth was that he liked seeing her all fired up.
She was naturally a beautiful woman, but when she was mad, she came to life.
Those green eyes of hers darkened into a deep and dangerous mountain forest that beckoned to him.
Her pretty mouth pouted. Her high cheeks flushed. And her elegant chin jutted.
She took several steps away from Giles Gray’s buggy as he flicked his reins and set his horses in motion. With her shoulders straight and her raven hair loose and wavy, she radiated with the strength of a woman who knew what she wanted and couldn’t be swayed.
However, from everything Beckett had just witnessed and heard, Hyacinth was in real bad need of being swayed away from marrying Giles.
Beckett didn’t know the fella well, had only heard a few things about how his silver mine had turned him into a millionaire overnight.
He was also respected in the community and had a good reputation.
That was all dandy. But Giles was too old for someone like Hyacinth, who had so much life and energy.
Beckett hadn’t known about the fella’s trouble in bed. That explained why Giles had never married.
Maybe there were scenarios where marital intimacy and having children weren’t important in a marriage. Beckett didn’t know of any couples where that was true. But he reckoned it could happen once in a great while.
It just wasn’t supposed to happen to a gal like Hyacinth. With as much spark and sass as she had, she deserved to have a husband who was up for the challenge of being her partner and who could challenge her in return.
Giles would never be able to do that. And none of the other suitors who’d come calling on Hyacinth over recent months could keep up with her.
Beckett supposed that was one reason why he’d taken to interfering when those unsuited fellas visited.
He was keeping her from ruining her future with a man who would never be able to love or appreciate who she really was.
It was also fun to interfere because sparring with Hyacinth Berkley was one of the highlights of his life. Which was mighty pathetic and showed that he needed to buckle down and get busy finding a wife of his own.
He sighed and pushed away from the porch railing, a sudden weight falling on his shoulders. He returned to the cart and rolled it forward, rounding the house and heading toward the large fenced-in garden that sat behind the Nobles’ house.
May fifteenth, the day of his thirtieth birthday, was fast approaching.
It was only about five weeks away, and he was no closer to finding a wife now than he had been a year ago, when he’d first gotten word that he had to get married by his thirtieth birthday if he wanted to inherit the whole Texas ranch.
Beckett already had his pa’s half of the Double T and had since the day his pa had died seven years ago.
But with the passing of Pa’s partner, Sargeant Turner, he had the possibility of getting Sargeant’s half of the ranch too.
Unfortunately—and underhandedly—Sargeant had tied Beckett’s inheritance to marriage.
At first, Beckett had refused to consider the dirty manipulation and had tossed his lawyer’s telegram in the fire.
But Beckett had been too reasonable to give up on the Double T, knowing that if he didn’t take over Sargeant’s half, it would go to one of Sargeant’s distant nephews, an Englishman named Richard Turner.
No one had good things to say about Richard Turner, especially not Sunshine.
Sargeant’s widow, Sunshine, had been like a mother to Beckett while he was growing up, and she’d faithfully written to him all the while he’d been in Colorado.
Her recent letters had been filled with concern about Richard’s plans for the ranch, which included breeding horses and developing a racetrack that would draw people from all over the world.
If Richard succeeded, he would destroy the thriving cattle industry the ranch had been built upon, and he would devastate the livelihoods of the many people who relied on the ranch.
Sunshine had begged Beckett not to let that happen, and he didn’t want to let her down. Even if he didn’t love the ranch, he didn’t want the people there to suffer. Especially her.
He wasn’t sure yet what he was gonna do to solve his problem, but the urgency was starting to get to him. Maybe that’s why he was being so ornery with Hyacinth.
With a sigh, Beckett paused beside the garden gate, opened it, and wheeled the cart into the barren plot of land.
Alonzo had already cleared the dried remains from last year’s produce and readied the plot for tilling.
The old cowhand who served as cook for the ranch hands had asked for the manure to use as fertilizer.
But Beckett could have delivered it tomorrow or assigned the task to one of the other ranch hands.
Except he would have lost out on the fun of riling Hyacinth.
He grabbed the shovel he’d brought along and thrust it into the heap.
“Beckett Thorpe,” came Hyacinth’s irritated call from near the house.
A tiny thrill wound through him as it did every time she came to scold him.
He kept his focus on his task, dropping a pile of the manure onto the soil.
But from the corner of his eye, he saw her pass by the clothesline, cross the grass that was still mostly withered from winter, and enter the garden.
He pretended not to notice as she folded her arms and glared at him, but he was all too aware of every move she made.
He stuck his shovel in the pile of manure again and hefted another load onto the soil, tossing it so that it would be easier for Alonzo to mix in.
Despite having lost a leg in the War of Secession the weathered cowboy managed to do more than most, but Beckett always tried to lighten the fella’s load whenever possible.
“You can pretend I’m not here,” Hyacinth said. “But we both know that you’re well aware of my presence.”
“Course I know you’re standing there, darlin’.” He paused, puffing out his chest and making a show of flexing his muscles. “You came over to admire me because you can’t get enough of seeing me.”
She released an unladylike guffaw. “In your dreams, Cowboy.”
Heaven help him, but he loved it when she called him Cowboy. He didn’t know why except that every time she did, his heart beat clear out of his chest. “Reckon I can’t dicker with you on that score, because you sure do make an appearance in plenty of my dreams.”
“No, I do not.” Her voice held a note of mortification.
He hefted up another load. “Well, I’ll be. Didn’t realize you were in the business of knowing what I do or don’t dream about.”
“If I’m in your dreams, it’s only because I’m haunting you with my threats to tar and feather you.”
“Maybe in my dreams, you’re actually nice to me.”
Guilt flashed across her face—probably because she hadn’t been nice to him since they’d met the day of Sterling and Violet’s first wedding over a year ago, when Violet had run into the barn and Hyacinth had come looking for her.
Hyacinth had stood in the middle of the haymow in a deep-red gown that made her skin glow and her dark hair shine. It had molded to her body, showing off every soft curve and willowy long limb. She’d been so stunning that Beckett had lost his breath.
“Have you seen Violet?” she’d asked, tears sparkling on her long dark eyelashes.
He’d been attired in his Sunday best for the wedding, having shed his usual denim trousers, flannel shirt, and cowboy hat. He’d self-consciously twisted his tie, wanting to make a good impression on the beautiful woman standing in his domain.
She’d only frowned. “Don’t even think about it, Cowboy.” That had been the first time she’d called him that, and the nickname had stuck. That and a dozen other nicknames—like Brainless Baboon.
“Think about what?” he’d asked as he finished stowing the luggage for Sterling and Violet’s honeymoon in the back of the wagon they were taking down to Denver.
“Don’t think about complimenting me.” Hyacinth blotted at the moisture in the corners of her eyes.
“Whoa now.” He gave her another once-over. “Course I wasn’t about to compliment you. Why in the Sam Hill would you think that?”
“Because you’re staring at me too intently.”
Maybe he was looking at her with stark appreciation that was as obvious as the blazing sun in a desert. But that didn’t mean he planned to compliment her, and she was obviously full of herself for thinking so.
“Listen, darlin’,” he said, his tone turning steely. “I don’t care a lick about you. And there’s no way on this side of paradise I’d ever compliment a filly like you. Your head is already big enough. I’m surprised you could fit it through the barn door.”
“Filly?” Her voice rose. “Please refrain from likening me to a horse.”
It had been rude of him. But something fired up in Hyacinth’s expression that halted his ready apology. It wasn’t anger or even frustration. It was a flare of interest, attraction. At least, he thought that it was.
She gave a quick shake of her head, probably to dislodge whatever it was. “I’m looking for Violet. Did you see her in here?”
“Why would she be in here?” As soon as he asked the question, a sledgehammer pounded against his chest. Blast it all. “That spineless sister of yours has tucked tail and run, hasn’t she?”
Hyacinth’s eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared. “We both know Sterling pushed her into this wedding much too quickly.”
Beckett had warned Sterling of that very thing. There had been lots of signs that Violet had cold feet when it came to getting married. For starters, she’d rejected Sterling the first time he’d proposed.
Sterling had assured Beckett everything would be fine, and Beckett had wanted to believe his boss. But clearly, Violet was still as unpredictable as a high-country spring day.
“Ready or not,” he said a mite too harshly, “today’s the day, and she needs to do the right thing.”
“If she’s not ready, then better to wait than make a mistake.”
“It’s not a mistake to marry Sterling. He’s the nicest fella she’ll ever meet.”
“If he’s the nicest fella, then he’ll give her the time she needs.”
Beckett knew Hyacinth was right, but at the same time, he couldn’t let his friend suffer. Because Sterling would be mighty hurt if Violet didn’t marry him today. “Go find her now.” He growled out the words. “And if you don’t drag her back to the house, I will.”
Hyacinth’s expression had turned as frigid as a snow-crusted mountaintop. “Go jump in a lake.” She’d spun on her heels and stalked out of the barn.
That was how his first conversation with Hyacinth had gone. It had never gotten better after that. His accusation that she wasn’t being nice to him was unfair because neither of them had been all that nice to each other over the past months.
Hyacinth had a sharp tongue, a quick wit, and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. He’d actually grown to admire those things about her because they showed her strength, determination, and backbone.
He jabbed his shovel into the dirt and leaned against it. “You’re not seriously considering marrying Giles Gray, are you?”
She lifted her chin in that defiant way she had. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I am.”
“That’s a crying shame.”
“I’m not crying. I’m actually excited to get away from here.”
Her statement caught him off guard. “From the ranch?”
“Yes.” The one word came out emphatically.
His brows shot up. “But your sister and father are here.”
“That’s exactly why I want to go.”
He could understand why she might not want to be around her father after what he’d attempted to do to her back in the autumn.
She probably resented him even though he’d apologized.
But she loved her sister. That had always been easy to see.
“I don’t understand why you’re jumping at the bit to get away from Violet. ”
Hyacinth glanced in the direction of the house, specifically at one of the upstairs windows that had the curtains drawn. It was Sterling’s bedroom. “You’d only have to live with Vi and Sterling for one day, and you’d be ready to leave too.”
Beckett reckoned Sterling was taking advantage of every opportunity to get his hands on his wife, especially after how long he’d waited to have her. “You can’t handle a little of that affection?”
She shook her head, her lips pursing. “If only it was a little. But it’s all the time. And that’s not an exaggeration.”
“Sure is an exaggeration.”
“No, really. It’s not.”
“They have to eat and sleep and breathe.”
“Fine. They kiss more than anyone should.”
“I didn’t know there was a limit.”
“There should be.” She gave a shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to say is that I’m imposing every time I step into a room when they’re together.”
Beckett leaned more heavily against his shovel. Reckon what she was saying made sense. And he reckoned Sterling and Violet wouldn’t mind having a little more privacy, although they would soon lose it when Mr. and Mrs. Noble and Scarlet and Coleman returned to Colorado in May.
“And yes,” Hyacinth continued as though reading his thoughts, “I do want to be married and moved out by the time everyone arrives back on the ranch.”
“That doesn’t mean you should rush into marriage with the first man who makes you an offer.”
“I’m not rushing.”
“You hardly know Giles.”
“I know the important things.”
“Like he’s old and can’t have kids.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “He’s not that old, and I’ve never thought about having kids.”
“You’ll want a passel someday.”
“I doubt that.”
“You’re young enough to change your mind.”
“It doesn’t matter. He has enough other qualities that make him appealing. He’s wealthy, independent, and can take care of me.”
Her list was shallower than a mud puddle in the desert. “That’s all that matters to you?”
She opened her mouth to make another retort, but then closed it and scowled. “Listen, Beckett. The reason I’m confronting you isn’t because I want marriage advice. It’s to tell you to stop interfering so rudely.”
“He’s not right for you.”
“What makes you the expert, Mr. Single Bachelor?”
“It doesn’t take an expert to know.”
“I suppose you have the perfect man picked out for me.”
He smirked. “Yep. Me.”