Handpicked Husband. Winnie Griggs

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marched into the cabin, her hands already on the buttons of her overalls, her mind planning her next moves.

      If she remembered right, her old blue dress had pockets large enough to hide her father’s derringer.

      * * *

      Adam bit off a groan as Chance cleared his throat. He should have known the silence wouldn’t last.

      “Do you really believe Miss Nash came out here to avoid us?”

      The question hung in the air a moment, then Everett swatted at something on his neck with an irritated oath. “Can you think of any other reason a sane person would choose to hide out in this ghastly wilderness?”

      Adam refrained from comment. Arriving in Turnabout to discover the judge’s granddaughter had retreated to an isolated cabin had only added to his sense of time—and opportunities—slipping away. The plan had been for Miss Nash to receive her grandfather’s letter of explanation before the four of them arrived so she would have time to come to terms with the arrangement in relative privacy.

      Instead, she’d apparently used the time to enact this childish stalling tactic. Did she think they’d get tired of waiting and go back to Philadelphia? Or was she using the time to devise some clever scheme to outmaneuver them?

      Well, he had no intention of cooling his heels in Turnabout while waiting for her to reappear. Over the grumbling protests of his companions, he’d immediately set out to find her.

      Judge Madison had cautioned that his granddaughter would do her best to thwart his plans. He’d also said she was shrewd and not one to take being manipulated with good grace. In other words, much like the judge himself, even if the two didn’t share a blood tie.

      Adam had expected a more direct assault, however, not this cowardly retreat. But, then again, he was dealing with a woman.

      Of course, the judge also had good things to say about the step-granddaughter he obviously loved. He’d assured Adam that beneath her tough exterior was a kind-hearted, vulnerable woman. The old schemer had made Adam promise to do his utmost to see that she wasn’t unduly embarrassed by the situation. Although, considering the “situation” was instigated by the judge himself, and deliberately orchestrated to force her hand, Adam wasn’t certain how he was going to pull off that part of his assignment.

      But he’d given his word to try. It was the least he could do for the one person who’d stood by him through everything.

      And it wasn’t as if he didn’t feel some sympathy for Miss Nash. He could imagine her reaction to that letter. She no doubt felt as if she were being backed into a corner.

      And he, of all people, knew what it was to feel trapped and betrayed by those you trusted.

      “I still think the three of us should have stayed in town while you approached Miss Nash alone.” Mitchell’s words held an accusatory edge. “I can’t imagine Judge Madison would approve of the lot of us descending on his granddaughter’s privacy this way.”

      “It’s my job to decide what the judge would or wouldn’t want,” Adam answered shortly. He might owe the older man a debt of gratitude, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look out for his own interests as well.

      “Do you think that’s Miss Nash’s place?”

      Adam raised up in the saddle at Chance’s words. They’d topped a low hill, and ahead of them, barely visible amidst the trees, was a log structure.

      “Only one way to find out.” He nudged Trib into a trot.

      The others didn’t appear to share his impatience. Not only didn’t they increase their pace, Adam sensed a definite slowing of the carriage. The closer he got to the cabin, however, the less certain he was that they’d reached their destination. He studied the place while the carriage caught up.

      “The judge’s granddaughter is staying here?” Everett’s words echoed Adam’s thoughts.

      They’d all been inside Judge Madison’s stately home. Adam had assumed the granddaughter lived in a comparable level of luxury, albeit a more countrified version. Of course, this wasn’t the household’s primary residence, but even so...

      “This is a hovel.” Everett sounded horrified.

      “I wouldn’t go that far.” Chance’s response lacked conviction. “It’s plain, but—”

      “Look at it.” The British undertones in Everett’s voice sharpened. “The walls are unfinished logs and the whole lot isn’t much bigger than a respectable parlor. Those benches on the porch—bah! They look as if they were put together with odd bits of scrap timbers by a drunken carpenter. There aren’t even glass panes on the windows.”

      Adam turned to face them. “We don’t know for certain that this is Miss Nash’s place.” He narrowed his eyes and added a flintiness to his tone. “But even if it is, she’s Judge Madison’s granddaughter and is to be treated like a lady. Is that understood?”

      He might be as irritated as a picnicker in a rainstorm by Miss Nash’s delaying tactics, but he’d given his word to protect her honor, and these men better remember that.

      He waited for their reluctant nods, then faced forward again. Now that he’d had time to get a good look at the place, he found he didn’t agree with Everett’s assessment. True, the structure was rougher than he’d expected. But the swing hanging on one end of the porch held calico cushions, and the whole area seemed well-tended. Maybe it was because of the years he’d spent in that iron-barred rat hole, but this place had a simple, homey appeal.

      Wisps of smoke curling from the chimney and an abandoned checkerboard on the porch assured him someone was in residence, but was it Miss Nash? It seemed more likely this was home to the girl they’d encountered earlier. Not that she’d had time to make it here. Still, there might be someone else about.

      Sure enough, a stocky, older woman appeared from the side of the cabin. The banshee’s mother perhaps?

      Whoever she was, she eyed them with as much suspicion as the muddy yellow cur padding along beside her. The dog had a feral quality that didn’t bode well for anyone the creature took a dislike to.

      Chance gave a low, appreciative whistle. “Look at that mutt, will you? He’s big as a pony, and those teeth are like spikes. Do you suppose he’s part wolf?”

      “Given our surroundings, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Everett responded. “I, however, don’t intend to get close enough to examine his features.”

      “Afraid?” Chance’s tone matched the sneer on his face. “Are you a coward as well as a dandy?”

      “Listen, boy.” Everett flicked a spot of dust from his sleeve. “I have no intention of rising to an adolescent dare just to prove I can live up to your idea of manly valor.”

      The dog watched the men without blinking. The woman’s expression was even less welcoming than that of the cur.

      Doing his best to ignore the squabbling men, Adam tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, ma’am. We’re looking for Miss Regina Nash. Can you tell me where I might find her?”

      “Who’s asking?”

      The

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