Handpicked Husband

Can She Drive Away Not One, But Three Suitors?

Free-spirited photographer Regina Nash is ready to try. But unless she marries one of the gentlemen her grandfather has sent for her inspection, she’ll lose custody of her nephew. So she must persuade them—and Adam Barr, her grandfather’s envoy—that she’d make a thoroughly unsuitable wife.

Adam isn’t convinced. Regina might be unconventional, but she has wit, spirit and warmth. His job was to make sure Regina chose from the men he escorted to Texas—not to marryher himself! Can they overcome the secrets in her past, and the shadows in his, to find a perfect future together?

She looked so brittle—vulnerable almost. Adam felt an unwanted stirring of sympathy, but pushed it ruthlessly aside.

“There’s no point fighting this,” he said, hoping Reggie would see reason. “They are all good men, but different enough to give you a real choice. I’m certain you’ll decide which you find most compatible in that period of time.”

“Are you now?” The vulnerable air evaporated to be replaced by the scorching look and frigid tone she’d brandished before.

So much for that stirring of sympathy. Obviously, Miss Nash could hold her own in any war of words.

“As for this contract—” her chin titled up at a militant angle “—I’m sure I’ll need time to study it, perhaps have a lawyer look it over, before I sign it.”

Adam stiffened. He was a trained lawyer, which she knew quite well. And he was here to help her through this. “I’d be glad to explain any—”

“I’d as soon ask the devil to explain a scripture.”

WINNIE GRIGGS

is a city girl born and raised in southeast Louisiana’s Cajun Country who grew up to marry a country boy from the hills of northwest Louisiana. Though her Prince Charming (who often wears the guise of a cattle rancher) is more comfortable riding a tractor than a white steed, the two of them have been living their own happily-ever-after for more than thirty years. During that time they raised four proud-to-call-them-mine children and a too-numerous-to-count assortment of dogs, cats, fish, hamsters, turtles and 4-H sheep.

Winnie has held a job at a utility company since she graduated from college. She saw her first novel hit bookstores in 2001. In addition to her day job and writing career, Winnie serves on committees within her church and on the executive boards and committees of several writing organizations, and she is active in local civic organizations—she truly believes the adage that you reap in proportion to what you sow.

In addition to writing and reading, Winnie enjoys spending time with her family, cooking and exploring flea markets. Readers can contact Winnie at P.O. Box 14, Plain Dealing, LA 71064, or email her at winnie@winniegriggs.com.

Handpicked Husband

Winnie Griggs

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Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old.

Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.

—Isaiah 43:18–19

To my editor, Melissa Endlich,

whose faith in me and sincere efforts to help me make my writing the best that it can be has been a source of encouragement, inspiration and joy during the years we have worked together.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Northeast Texas, 1894

An ear-splitting shriek ricocheted through the forest, startling a raucous cloud of blackbirds from the roadside trees.

“Easy, Trib.” Adam Barr patted the horse’s neck as the animal shied. What now?

The buggy behind him slowed to a stop, but Adam ignored it, along with the uneasy questions from the three men seated inside. He’d promised to escort the men from Philadelphia to Texas, not be their nursemaid.

The wailing continued and Adam fought the urge to tilt back his head and answer with a wild, full-throated howl. He’d gritted his teeth so often these past few days the muscles in his jaw hurt. Taking on this job when more important business waited for him in Philadelphia had him in a foul mood, as his companions could no doubt attest.

After six years of biding his time—six years, two months and thirteen days to be exact—he’d thought he could finally pursue his goal without distraction.

If this assignment had come from anyone but Judge Madison...

Adam scanned the brush-skirted hardwoods lining the trail. Whatever the source of that eerie sound, it was headed their way.

He eased his rifle from the scabbard. Anticipation stirred his blood. He might have to employ his “company manners” with his three charges, but this bellowing beast was another matter.

No telling what manner of creature roamed this forsaken backwoods. The wail was too high-pitched to belong to a bear. A large cat maybe?

He urged Trib closer to the trees. There seemed to be a pattern to the sound, a certain mangled cadence. Almost as if—

Well, what do you know?

He leaned back. Not a wild animal after all. Too bad.

“Do you think it’s a wolf?”

Adam glanced over his shoulder. Chance’s expression, like his tone, held more eagerness than worry. Did the kid think it would be some kind of lark to face down a wolf? Of course, from what Judge Madison had told Adam, the twenty-one-year-old was on this expedition precisely because he was prone to seek out trouble.

“Sounds more like an infernal wildcat.” Everett adjusted his shirt cuff with exaggerated care, doing a creditable job of appearing unconcerned. But his British accent was more pronounced now, something Adam noticed happened when anything rattled the dandified cynic.

Mitchell, who controlled the skittish carriage horse with ease, refrained from comment. Nothing unusual in that. The loose-limbed bear of a man had spent most of the trip west with a sort of sleepy-eyed disinterest. What was different, however, was the subtle alertness that radiated from him now, as if he were a cavalryman waiting for the enemy to appear over the rise.

Another strident note drew Adam’s focus back to the roadside. He didn’t bother to disabuse them of the notion that it might be a wild animal. It’d do the pampered trio good to have something to worry about besides the unorthodox plot they’d gotten themselves embroiled in.

“Perhaps you should get the carriage moving,” Everett said. “I’m sure our escort can handle this better without us to distract him.”

“We shouldn’t abandon Mr. Barr,” Chance shot back. “He might need—”

“This is about common sense, Junior, not courage,” Everett interrupted. “Besides, I do believe Mr. Barr is more interested in getting rid of the lot of us than having us guard his back.”

“I told you before—the name’s Chance, not Junior.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. Everett was right. Even if it had been a grizzly headed this way, he’d rather face that than listen to more of this petty bickering. This assignment couldn’t be over soon enough to suit him.

A heartbeat later, the source of the ear-grating racket stepped onto the roadside. As soon as the creature caught sight of them, the discordant warble ceased.

“It’s a man!” Chance’s tone carried as much disappointment as surprise.

“Not quite.” Adam didn’t blame the youth for the mistake. The party responsible for that unmelodic braying wore baggy overalls and an equally oversize shirt, both of which had seen better days. There was even a smudge of dirt on one cheek to match those on the clothing.

But this was no man.

From Adam’s closer vantage, he spied a frizzy brown braid long enough to brush the seat of the overalls. That, along with the slender neck and hint of curves below, proclaimed this person as most definitely female. He hesitated, though, to use the word lady. She appeared more a disheveled forest waif than a civilized being.

The girl seemed as startled as the men in the carriage. But a flicker of something else—disbelief? wariness?—shadowed her surprise.

Remembering he still cradled the rifle, Adam resheathed it and tipped his hat. No point scaring her more than they already had.

Besides, she might be a good source of information.

He dug deep for the polite pleasantries that had grown rusty with disuse. “Good afternoon, miss. My apologies if we startled you.”

“Good heavens, it’s a girl.” Chance’s whispered-but-easily-heard comment only served to heighten the color in her cheeks as she broke eye contact with Adam.

“Or what passes for one in this barbaric wilderness.” Everett didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Do you think she speaks English?”

Adam narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Did the men think just because she looked like an uncivilized rube she didn’t have feelings?

But before he could say anything, the girl snapped out of her slack-jawed immobility. Her lips compressed and her eyes flashed daggers. So, there was more wildcat than rabbit in her, was there?

Instead of baring claws, however, she bent down to pluck a stem of grass. Straightening, she favored them with a broad, neighborly grin as she stuck the weed between her teeth.

But something in her stance told Adam the claws were there, merely out of sight for now. He also noticed she didn’t step away from the protection of the trees.

This girl was no fool. He mentally saluted her precaution, then leaned back in the saddle, ready to enjoy whatever performance she had in store for his companions.

“Howdy, gents.” Her words were drawn out in a thick, rustic drawl. “I reckon I was a mite surprised at that, but no harm done. We don’t get many strangers out this way, especially fancy-lookin’ gents like you ’uns.”

Her gaze flickered to Adam’s again. Some trick of the light lent a luminosity to her irises, made them appear to change from green to blue and back again. The image of a statue he’d admired in a museum years ago shimmered through his memory. The scales of the dragon had seemed to glow, had rippled with a fluidity of color that was mesmerizing.

This girl’s eyes were just like that.

She turned to the men behind him, and the spell was broken. Adam collected himself, annoyed at the fanciful turn his thoughts had taken. This trip must have worn on him more than he realized.

Mitchell remembered his manners first. “Are you all right, miss?”

She slid the stem of grass to the other corner of her mouth with bucolic nonchalance. As she did so, Adam saw her size up the speaker, no doubt weighing Mitchell’s intimidating size against his concerned gaze.

She finally flashed a friendly grin. “Fit as a filly in a field of clover. Why’d you ask?”

Let it go, Adam silently advised. But Mitchell apparently hadn’t figured out what was all too obvious to Adam.

“It’s just, well, that screeching we heard. I thought maybe something had frightened you.”

Adam watched for her reaction with interest. Would she dissolve into tears of mortification, or give Mitchell a blistering set-down for his innocent blunder?

To his surprise, she did neither. Instead she winced and gave a rueful smile. “My kinder friends call what you just heard a ‘joyful noise.’”

Adam tilted his hat back with one finger. A female who could laugh at herself? Now there was a novelty.

Ruddy color crept into Mitchell’s face along with the belated light of understanding. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I—”

She smiled and raised a hand. “Don’t fret none, mister. No offense taken. Why do you think I wait ’til I’m out in the woods to really give it my all?”

She looked around, including each of them in her gaze. “You fellas lost? There’s not much out this way but trees and critters. If you’re looking for the road to Bent Willow, you passed the turn about three miles back.”

“Actually, we’re looking for Miss Regina Nash.” A flicker in her expression told Adam she knew the name. “I understand she’s staying somewhere out this way.” He’d hand it to the judge’s granddaughter, she’d taken great pains to make it as difficult for him to find her as possible. But she obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with if she thought a trek through the woods would deter him.

The girl nodded, pulling the stem from her mouth and waving it in the direction they’d been traveling. “Her place is about a twenty-minute ride farther on. Can’t miss it.” She rolled the stem between her fingers, eyeing him speculatively. “I was by there a bit ago, though, and it didn’t seem like they was expecting company.”

He swallowed a sour laugh. “No, I don’t imagine they are.” He watched her toss the blade of grass away, still intrigued by her in spite of himself.

Goodness knows it didn’t have anything to do with her looks. In that grubby getup and with smudges on her face, and her hair indifferently tamed into a bushy braid, she lacked anything resembling sophistication or feminine wiles. No, it was more the glimpse of personality he’d seen in her eyes, and the complete lack of apology for her untidy appearance, even after the tactless comments from the men in the carriage. The girl seemed a product of her environment, completely lacking artifice or slyness.

“Do you live nearby?” he heard himself ask. “Can we give you a ride?”

Now why had he made such an offer? It wasn’t like him to act impulsively. Too late to retract the offer now, though.

“No, thanks. I’m headed that’a way.” She waved toward the trail behind her.

Adam nodded with more relief than disappointment. As interesting as this backwoods miss was, he didn’t have time for distractions right now. The sooner he found Regina Nash, the sooner he could be done with this mess.

“Then I suppose we’ll be on our way.” He gathered the reins. “Good day.”

“Nice talking to you fellas.” She hooked her thumbs under the straps of her overalls and rocked back on her heels. “Tell Miz Nash I said hello when you see her.”

Adam raised a brow. “Who shall I say sends her greetings?”

“She’ll know.”

Being coy, was she? He’d already decided the girl wasn’t quite as guileless as she seemed. That drawl was a bit too thick, that gleam in her eyes a bit too knowing.

Not that he thought the worse of her for it. Under the circumstances, she probably felt safer pretending to be simple. Living down to their expectations, as it were.

He turned back to the carriage. “All right, gentlemen. Time to move on.” But as he set Trib in motion, Adam felt her gaze on him, like a prickle between his shoulder blades.

A moment later when he glanced back, however, she’d disappeared.

He mentally offered a salute. It was as if, by getting him to look back, she’d managed to have the last word.

Mitchell’s gaze followed Adam’s. “Who do you suppose she was?”

Everett clapped Mitchell on the back. “So, you like an earthy quality to your women, do you?”

Mitchell shot him a contemptuous glower. “The kind of woman I like is none of your concern.”

Adam faced forward again, wondering why Everett took such pleasure in needling his companions. Did he think his polished manner somehow made him superior?

“Oh, she wasn’t so bad,” Chance offered. “Seemed a bit simple, but she was friendly enough.”

Chance saw her as simple? Adam shook his head. Was he the only one who’d glimpsed the intelligence in those changeable eyes?

“What does it matter?” Everett’s question had an irritable edge. “Until Miss Nash makes her selection, none of us has any business looking at another woman.”

A pall descended on the trio. The clink of harness and the rattle of carriage wheels suddenly seemed unnaturally loud. The question of who would be selected as the sacrificial lamb in this unorthodox lottery rode alongside the carriage like a black-clad specter.

Would the man who drew the short straw really follow through with his end of the bargain? Adam shrugged off any feelings of sympathy for their predicament. They’d known the terms before they signed the contract. His only concern in this matter was to see everything settled according to the judge’s wishes, and the sooner the better.

For six eternal, nightmarish years, he’d waited for the day he would be free to pursue the truth, to clear his reputation and unmask those who had blackened it. The proof he needed was almost within reach now, he could feel it. Soon, very soon, he’d be able to exonerate himself, to reclaim the life that had been stolen from him.

But he couldn’t do it from Turnabout, Texas.

His frustration over being forced to put his own plans on hold for even a day, much less four weeks, was burning a hole in his gut.

Not that he’d let on as much to anyone else. His ability to maintain an unperturbed demeanor through any situation was a matter of pride to him. And a major source of annoyance for his opponents.

It was an ability that had served him well in his years as a trial lawyer. The drive to hold on to that one piece of himself, to not let them take it away from him along with everything else, had helped keep him sane the last six years.

That, and the burning need to see justice done.

He nudged his horse to a slightly faster pace.

It would be nice if Miss Nash acted sensibly and dispatched this business with as little fuss as possible.

It would be nice, but given the situation and his own run of bad luck, he didn’t hold out much hope.

* * *

Reggie sprinted down the overgrown trail, grateful for the freedom the overalls gave her. The road the men were taking meandered through this hilly woodland, twisting and turning without a discernable pattern. On foot, she could cut a much more direct path. With any luck, she’d reach the cabin a full ten minutes ahead of the riders.

Thank goodness she’d decided not to take her photographic equipment with her this afternoon.

Reggie winced as her boot caught on a root. Reluctantly, she slowed to a trot. Spraining an ankle wouldn’t be in her best interest.

Adam Barr.

Now there was a face she hadn’t expected to ever see outside of Philadelphia, much less in the backwoods of Northeast Texas. The last time she’d seen him had been in Grandfather Madison’s home seven years ago. A lifetime ago.

Back then, her grandfather’s dashing young protégé had been an up-and-coming lawyer, a man who seemed to have the world at his fingertips.

Until his spectacular fall from grace.

She wasn’t the least bit surprised he hadn’t realized who she was. In fact, she doubted he’d have recognized her even if she’d been all gussied up in her Sunday best. She’d been only a girl back then, fifteen years old. And he’d mostly seen her in the company of her stepsister. Next to Patricia she might as well be invisible. Reggie had always thought of herself as shadow to Patricia’s sunlight.

But she’d recognized him immediately. A woman rarely forgot the object of her first romantic schoolgirl fantasies—even if she’d dusted her hands of the fantasy as she matured.

Not that he hadn’t changed. He’d aged of course, but it was more than that. He still had that heart-stopping dimple in his chin and bluer eyes than any man had a right to. But now those eyes held a flintiness, and that dimple seemed incongruous rather than endearing.

He’d also got himself a faded but new-to-her scar on his cheek. A souvenir, no doubt, from the kind of life he’d lived since she saw him last.

Well, she might have been young back then, but her wallflower status gave her lots of time to observe without being caught out. She’d sensed the charming, save-the-world idealist had some shadowy secret lurking behind his easy smile. In fact, it was one of the things that had drawn her to him, had caused her to moon over him with such private, embarrassing-to-remember enthusiasm all those years ago.

Now, though, those shadows seemed to have taken stronger hold, giving his smile a cynical twist.

Seeing him through the eyes of a woman rather than a child, Reggie was relieved to discover his glance no longer had the power to set her pulse aflutter. To the contrary, her heart-thumping reaction to the sight of him had been due to surprise—that was all.

Of course, that was neither here nor there right now.

What in tarnation was he doing in Texas? What possible reason could he have for seeking her out? And who were the three city dudes he’d brought along? Surely, if Grandfather Madison had sent them, he’d have sent word ahead of time. Of course, the old fox hadn’t told her of his plans to donate a new wing to Turnabout’s schoolhouse, either.

Maybe that was it. Maybe they’d come to check on the progress of her grandfather’s newest project. But why had they come out here when the schoolhouse was back in town?

None of this made sense.

Could it have something to do with the letter she’d written Grandfather last month asking for guidance on how to formally adopt Jack? Were these men here to give her legal advice? But surely the matter was nothing more than a simple formality.

As far as Jack was concerned she was practically his mother already. Jack had been only three months old when her stepsister Patricia passed on. She’d been helping her brother-in-law, Lemuel, care for him ever since. Now that Lemuel was gone as well, she wanted to make certain Jack knew how special he was to her.

Her gut clinched. Surely there hadn’t been a problem with her request? What obstacle could there be to her adopting Jack? In the eyes of the law she was only his step-aunt, true enough, but he didn’t have any close blood kin, save the judge. No, there had to be some other reason they were here.

Ignoring the stitch in her side, Reggie picked up speed again as the cabin came into view. She had preparations to make before her callers arrived.

The Adam Barr she’d known all those years ago had been a pleasant, witty charmer, a self-made man who, after years of paying his dues, was just coming into his own. Certainly not a man to be afraid of.

But time could change a person, especially considering where the zealous ex-lawyer had spent the past six years.

Reggie wondered just when he’d gotten out of prison.

Chapter Two