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A Father in the Making
Busy Texas farmer Quinn Tucker is used to raising crops, not children. So when four nieces and nephews are left in his care, it’s not long before he realizes they need a mother. But his search for a wife leads to the least likely woman for illiterate Quinn—schoolmarm Helen McKenna.
City girl Helen has been told she’ll never have children—and, it seems, a husband. So she jumps at the chance to be a mother to Quinn’s little family. Though he is far from her image of an ideal husband, maybe a marriage in name will blossom into something more…
Bachelor List Matches: A hand-picked bride for every bachelor in small-town Texas
“Don’t you want to teach?”
The vague feeling of discontent she’d been ignoring welled up inside her. “I certainly enjoy it. However, to be honest, it isn’t really what I want to do.”
He frowned. “Then what do you want to do?”
I want to have a family with a husband and children of my own. She sighed and leaned back against the stair railing.
“Helen?” Quinn’s use of her Christian name for the first time drew her full attention. “I need to talk to you. I know this probably isn’t the right time, but I can’t hold it in.”
“This sounds serious. Go ahead and tell me.”
“My eldest nephew and niece are always going on about you and I’ve noticed that you seem to care a whole lot about them, too. That’s true, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is.”
“Well, I’m doing my best for them, but anyone can tell that isn’t good enough.” He waved away her protests. “Now, that’s just the plain truth and you know it. The fact is that they need a mother.” She stared at him, wondering where this conversation was going before he spoke again. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to marry me—for the children’s sake.”
NOELLE MARCHAND is a native Houstonian living out her childhood dream of being a writer. She graduated summa cum laude from Houston Baptist University in 2012, earning a bachelor’s degree in mass communications and speech communications. She loves exploring new books and new cities. When she’s not scribbling out her latest manuscript, you may find her pursuing one of her other passions—music, dance, history and classic movies.
The Texan’s Inherited Family
Noelle Marchand
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Instead of shame and dishonor,
you will enjoy a double share of honor.
You will possess a double portion of prosperity
in your land, and everlasting joy will be yours.
—Isaiah 61:7
This story is dedicated to my faithful friend Elizabeth Tisdale. Thank you for always listening, appreciating my love for Disney movies and encouraging me to have fun. Here’s to all of the adventures we’ve had and all that are sure to come.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
About the Author
Title Page
Praise
Dedication
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
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Extract
Copyright
Chapter One
October 1888 Peppin, Texas
Quinn Tucker was not a smart man.
If he was, he would have realized he needed to get married as soon he’d found out he was going to be a foster father to a group of orphans. Three whole weeks had passed since then. Three weeks in which he’d struggled to be both father and mother to four children he hadn’t even known existed until they’d been dropped on his doorstep by a stranger named Jeffery Richardson. The man had said the children had belonged to his brother, Wade, who along with Quinn’s father, had gone off to seek a fortune for their poverty-stricken family. Quinn had been eight years old at the time, so he’d been left behind to be raised by and eventually take care of his ailing grandmother. Nana had died when he was fourteen. Quinn had been on his own. Until now...
Now, he was afraid to be on his own long enough to visit the outhouse for fear that one of the children would get hurt or wander off in his absence. Not that he regretted taking in his own kin. He didn’t. Each of them had become real special to him during the short time that they’d lived with him. It was just that their entrance into his life had changed everything faster than he’d imagined possible.
He was still trying to get his bearings, which must have been why it had taken him seeing his friends Lawson Williams and Ellie O’Brien exchange vows yesterday for him to realize that he needed a wife. After all, a wife was supposed to be a helpmeet and he needed help—desperately. There was only so much bathing, washing, mending, braiding, baking and cooking a man could handle on his own with a farm to run.
Maybe he ought to ask Ellie for some advice on finding a wife. The town’s newest bride was also its most successful matchmaker. Even as busy as he’d been lately, Quinn hadn’t been able to escape hearing all the ruckus she’d caused over the past two months by gradually compiling a list of the town’s most eligible bachelors and the ladies Ellie saw as their matches. Her intent had merely been to find her own match through the process of elimination. However, it seemed everyone had been hankering to get a peek at what had been deemed the “Bachelor List” to find out who their match was.
Quinn needed to know if he had one, but he wasn’t sure what qualified a man to be considered “eligible.” If it was looks, education or riches, he didn’t have a chance. Women never seemed to get silly or swoony over him—at least not that he’d ever noticed.
Of course, that didn’t mean one hadn’t captured his attention.
Helen McKenna, the town’s schoolmarm, caught him watching her from across the crowd of folks who’d gathered for a good old-fashioned shivaree at the ranch where the newlyweds lived. Her mahogany eyes seemed to sparkle in the lantern light as she tilted her head inquisitively and stared right back at him. A blush spread just below her high cheekbones, making him wonder just how long he’d been staring. He sent her a nod as if that’s all he’d been trying to do in the first place, then glanced away.
He’d noticed her in church the first Sunday after she’d arrived in town, but hadn’t met her until he’d enrolled his eldest nephew and niece in school. That first meeting had confirmed everything he’d feared about the schoolmarm. She was beautiful, refined, intelligent and far too good for him. Every time he looked at her, Nana’s warnings rang in his ears. Chasing after more than you deserve will only get you hurt or dead.
Hadn’t his pa and his brother proven her right? No need for Quinn to follow their example. He’d best stay far away from Miss McKenna—not that he actually had a chance with her, anyway.
Staying away from her tonight would have been a sight easier if she hadn’t hung back to talk to him. The rest of the group followed Sheriff Sean O’Brien, who was the bride’s brother and Quinn’s closest neighbor, toward the cabin where the newlyweds lived. Quinn’s grip tightened on the neck of his banjo in his left hand as Helen’s generous smile set his heart thumping in his chest. Not wanting her to stumble in the dark, uneven field they traipsed across, he dared to place a cautionary hand near the small of her back. She angled closer to his side and chanced a whisper.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight. Who’s with the children?”
“The groom’s parents were kind enough to insist on watching them for me,” he whispered back. “You can’t get much better than the town doctor and Mrs. Lettie Williams for temporary caregivers. They even brought us supper.”
Her lips tipped upward in a brief smile. “What about Reece? How is his black eye?”
“All right, I suppose, but it’s turning an awful shade of green.” Reece was Quinn’s oldest nephew at nine years old and was the self-designated protector of the siblings. He hadn’t taken kindly to one of the other schoolboys picking on his younger sister Clara. The seven-year-old was a true sweetheart and destined to be a heartbreaker with her rich brown curls and big blue eyes. “I’m not sure what to do. I don’t want to encourage him to fight, but I don’t want Clara to be bullied, either.”
She nodded with understanding and concern written across her face in a frown. “I’ve already spoken to the other student’s father about it. Hopefully, the teasing will stop. As for Reece, I’m sure he’ll settle in soon.”
“I hope so. He’s been through a lot with his father and stepmother dying in that boating accident on their honeymoon only two years after his mother died in childbirth. Then he traveled thousands of miles to live with an uncle he’d never even met.”
“It couldn’t have been an easy transition for you, either.” The empathy in her tone wrapped around him like a warm blanket.
“I manage well enough.” At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. Helen started to respond but someone shushed them, so she just nodded. He counted about twelve or thirteen people creeping along beside her to where a cozy cabin for two sat at the edge of the woods. Even the katydids stopped singing. A snicker sounded above the soft rustle of grass but was quickly drowned out by more shushes.
Sean lit the lantern he held and gave a single nod. A cacophony of sound shattered the stillness. Quinn’s lightning-fast fingers picked an out-of-tune melody on his banjo. On his right, Helen banged an old frying pan with a mangled metal spoon while her good friend Isabelle Bradley rang the bell that usually sat on the Bradley Boardinghouse’s front desk. On his left side, his best friend, Rhett Granger, played a jumbled assortment of chords on his harmonica before settling in on a single warbling note. Beside Rhett, Chris Johansen’s fiddle screeched. Other folks added to the discordance by banging more pots and pans, whooping, hollering and whistling.
A cheer went up when the door opened a few seconds later. Lawson appeared, looking startled and drowsy but with a wide grin on his face. Ellie followed him out, laughing even as she covered her ears. In true shivaree fashion, the husband and wife were each made to sit in wheelbarrows. The ride ended on the banks of the farm’s creek where the couple was finally allowed to stand. The noise and the music died down so that Sean’s wife, Lorelei, could speak.
“Lawson and Ellie, this shivaree is to show you that your marriage has the full blessing of your family, friends and community.” Lorelei gestured toward the creek. “As you take the plunge into married life, we take it with you.”
Ellie eyed the creek then tilted her head and stared at her friends with calculating mischief. “Does that mean if we jump in, everyone else has to, as well?”
Quinn grinned at Ellie’s exuberance. It was a pretty balmy night for mid-October. Of course, that didn’t mean the creek would be anything but frigid.
Sean nodded. “That’s the deal. Afterward, women will change in the cabin. Men will change in the barn.”
Lawson gave a slow grin and winked. “Well, in that case...”
Ellie didn’t seem the least bit surprised when Lawson lifted her into his arms and barreled into the creek with what could only be described as a war cry. Pandemonium broke out as folks tossed their noisemakers on the ground and men started picking up whichever woman was handy to follow their leader into battle. Quinn spotted Helen backing away from the melee as he set his banjo in the cushioned wheelbarrow with the other instruments. He cut off Helen’s escape, swept her off her feet and plunged into the creek.
Rushing water muted the sound of Helen’s shriek and the rest of the hollering until Quinn resurfaced, gasping from the cold. Helen pushed away from him and immediately headed to the creek bank. A wave of water rushed over Quinn’s head. He soon found himself embroiled in a water fight with Rhett and Chris. Once they’d had all they could stand of the cold, they staggered to the creek bank to follow the rest of the party in the rush toward warmth and dry clothes.
Quinn didn’t make it very far along the path before he realized he hadn’t seen Helen head for the trees. She was probably on the path ahead of him, but even with only three weeks of experience in the role, the parent in him already knew not to leave the creek without making sure she wasn’t straggling behind the group. Quinn doubled back to the creek bank. Sure enough, she was staring at the ground as she walked back and forth along the bank of the creek. “Miss McKenna, what are you doing?”
“I’m looking for something.”
“Well, you aren’t going to find it in the dark.”
She sighed. “You’re probably right.”
“You should change before you catch cold. You must be freezing.”
“I certainly am.” Her gaze swept the creek bank one last time before she joined him at the edge of the woods. “Thanks to you.”
His caught her elbow to escort her onto the path. “Aw, I just gave you a little help getting in the creek, that’s all. You would have jumped in eventually.”
“Yes, but not quite so enthusiastically.” Her smile flashed in the darkness before she gave him a stern look she must have perfected on her students. “Is there a particular reason why you seemed to take such sheer pleasure in throwing me into that creek?”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe I don’t like schoolteachers.”
“What did they ever do to you?”
“Plenty.” He tugged her onward, hoping his grim tone would put an end to her question. It seemed to have the opposite effect.
She stopped and looked up at him. “Now I’m intrigued.”
The last thing he wanted was to delve into that, so he angled a grin her way as he helped her around a fallen branch. “Truthfully, I hoped you would come out looking as messy as the rest of us. Of course, you didn’t. Look at you...prim, proper and perfect as usual. Not a hair out of place. How’d you manage that?”
“Is that what you think I am?” She didn’t seem to realize that she was leaning into him to share what little warmth their bodies produced. Or maybe she was just too cold to care. “Prim, proper and perfect?”
A rush of heat tinged his face. It was too late to take back his words, so he just shrugged. “It sure doesn’t seem like you’re the type to ever let down your hair.”
They reached the edge of the woods, but she didn’t rush toward the cabin. Instead, she lingered with a hand on her hip. “I jumped in the creek, didn’t I?”
“I thought you said I threw you.” He winked as she seemed to scramble for a defense. “I guess I was just wondering what you’d look like a little mussed up, is all.”
“Is that so?” She lifted her chin along with her brow. “Well, I’ve been wondering what you’d look like with a haircut and a shave.”
He ran a hand over his thick beard. “That’ll happen the day you let down your hair and enjoy yourself.”
“Deal.” She released his arm and started fiddling with the fancy knot of hair on the back of her head.
Alarm prompted him to take a few cautious steps back. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Letting down my hair.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“No, but it’s what you said, so you can’t go back on our deal.” She shook her head until her hair tumbled from its style then slipped her hand into her thick dark hair and teased it into disarray. “Is that mussed enough for you?”
He stared at the dark waves of hair that framed her face and slid past her shoulders to stop at her waist. The only other woman he’d seen with her hair down had been his grandmother. She hadn’t looked anything like Helen. The schoolmarm seemed to capture the sparkle of starlight in her mahogany eyes while the glow from the cabin caressed her delicate features and stained her hair with a subtle dusting of gold. His hand reached out of its own accord to slide through the thick locks that were slick and heavy from their recent soaking.
The sound of her breath catching in her throat brought him up short. Suddenly realizing just what he was doing and to whom, he extracted his hand from her hair and restored the distance he hadn’t realized he’d covered. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I had no right to do that. Guess I just wasn’t thinking.”
She deftly twirled her hair and pinned it into a simple style. “You get that haircut and shave and we’ll call it even.”
“You must think I need them awful bad to go through all this.”
Her expression turned innocent, though her eyes were full of mischief. “Well, you do remind me a bit of a bear.”
“A bear, huh?” He glanced toward the cabin as the door opened and Lawson walked out with a bundle of clothes in his hand. Quinn urged Helen into the clearing. “You’d better go on inside before you catch a chill.”
She complied, greeting the bridegroom as she passed him. Lawson lifted a skeptical brow as he met up with Quinn and they walked across the field toward the barn. “Did you two get lost back there or something?”
Quinn shrugged. “I caught her dawdling by the creek, so I rounded her up and brought her in.”
“Well, don’t let her hear you describe her that way.”
“What way?”
Lawson’s eyes started twinkling. “Like a cow.”
“I guess it did sound kind of bad.” Quinn grimaced as Lawson laughed and clasped him on the shoulder. How was he ever going to find a wife at this rate? Lollygagging with a woman he didn’t have a chance with then talking about her like she was a heifer. It wasn’t a good start. He needed more than just an expert on love like Ellie. He needed divine intervention.
Being the last one into the tack room gave Quinn a moment alone to do what needed to be done. He bowed his head to whisper a prayer. “Lord, I might not be much and I may not deserve the finer things in life that other folks have, but I’m not asking for me. I’m asking for my children... All right, and maybe a little for me, too. Please send me a mother for them. Someone to be a helpmeet. That’s all I ask, Lord.”
“Quinn, everyone else has gone ahead,” Rhett called through the door. “I’m going to head to the cabin. You’d better get your banjo out the wheelbarrow and come on.”
“I’m coming.” Quinn finished dressing, then left the tack room. Rhett waited at the barn door jumping up and down to get warm while looking longingly across the field toward the cabin. Quinn found his banjo resting right where he’d placed it. Whoever had been in charge of gathering the noisemakers from the creek bank hadn’t been particularly careful in their treatment of his instrument. It had all manner of things piled on top of and around it. He pulled the instrument out only to find a stray piece of paper entwined in its string.
“Quinn, hurry up, will you? Lawson said Ellie was making some hot cider.”
“Aw, stop your caterwauling. I’ve said I’m coming.” Quinn tucked the folded paper into his pocket before joining Rhett. They ribbed each other all the way to the cabin, but Quinn’s gaze kept rising to the starry sky that stretched above him. He could only hope that God had heard the pleadings of his heart and see fit to answer.
Fast.
* * *
Helen couldn’t believe she’d lost the Bachelor List. That thought, along with the chill in the air, sent her snuggling farther into her covers the next morning. Amy, the oldest of the three Bradley girls at the boardinghouse where Helen lived, had begged off from the shivaree with a headache then entrusted Helen with a secret note for Ellie. Helen hadn’t had any idea that note was actually the Bachelor List until she’d told Ellie about losing it at the creek. Hopefully, the matchmaker would have more success finding the list in the daytime than Helen had last night. She didn’t understand why Amy hadn’t just given it to Ellie herself later. Well, it was just one more thing that hadn’t made sense about last night—like her sudden attraction to Quinn Tucker.
“Attraction” was the only explanation for why she’d lingered in the woods with him despite her drenched condition. But why would she feel that way? She’d been telling the truth when she’d said he reminded her of a bear. Just like the one she’d seen at the circus when she was a child; Quinn was big, hairy, arresting and more than a little intimidating. She couldn’t help but wonder how he ate without getting things lost in that unruly-looking mustache and beard. His hair was also overly long. However, there was always that indescribable something about a man with hair that nearly reached his shoulders that made her want to chase after him...with a pair of scissors.
Raised in Austin’s high society, she was used to polished gentlemen who were always perfectly groomed. But she’d learned her lesson about the cold hearts that could be hidden by gentlemanly exteriors.
As for Quinn, she couldn’t stop thinking about the gentle, almost awed way he’d reached out to touch her hair. She ought to be outraged by his audacity, but then she’d have to be equally shocked by her own behavior. After all, she was the one who’d taken her hair down in front of a man who was practically a stranger. She ought to be ashamed of herself, but she wasn’t. He’d made her feel comfortable, accepted and precious. It was unnerving. More than unnerving—it was dangerous!
It was dangerous because she might actually start believing what he’d said about her. Prim and proper she could handle since that was what every good schoolmarm should be, but she knew all too well that she was not perfect. Never perfect—especially not as a woman. Any doubts she’d had about that had been cleared away six months ago when she’d made the mistake of telling her fiancé, Thomas Coyle, that a riding accident she’d had at sixteen had left her unable to have children. Subsequently, their engagement had ended before the engagement dinner was over.
Helen had quickly studied to become a teacher then moved to Peppin in order to forget her humiliation. If only it was as easy to forget the dreams she’d cherished since she was just a child. Back then, she’d often been found playing house in her mother’s dresses with at least one baby doll clutched in each arm. She’d thought being a teacher would be close enough to the fulfillment of that dream to keep her satisfied. Instead, it only fed the longing for the one thing she knew she’d never be able to have—children of her own.
No, Quinn wouldn’t have called her perfect if he’d known the truth. Or, perhaps he wouldn’t care that she’d never have children. He did have four of his own. She saw the two eldest every school day. She knew a teacher wasn’t supposed to have favorites and she didn’t let it show in the schoolroom, but the Tucker children’s plight had paved their way straight into her heart.
She tossed the thoughts away along with her covers and dressed for the day. What was wrong with her? She knew better than to let herself think things like that. Hadn’t she learned anything from her fiancé’s rejection? Yet, she could almost hear the comforting tones of her mother’s voice in the aftermath of that disaster. I promise you, my darling, if Thomas loved you—truly loved you—it wouldn’t have mattered to him that you can’t have children. As pretty as those words were, Helen wasn’t entirely sure she believed them.