Romancing The Runaway Bride. Karen Kirst
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Before Adam could get another word out, he was engulfed in a tight embrace. His throat clogged with pent-up emotion. He wasn’t to be shunned, then. Thank you, God. I don’t deserve this welcome, but I’ll take it.
Adam returned the hug, aware that they were creating a spectacle right there on the boardwalk. For this moment, though, he wasn’t an agent on the trail of justice. He was a man who’d missed his brother more than he’d realized.
Russell pulled away first and gripped Adam’s shoulders. A grin spread from ear to ear. “I can’t believe you’re here. My baby brother, all grown up. And looking quite dapper, I must say.”
Adam patted Russ’s jaw. “Look at you. When did you grow a goatee?”
He laughed. “When potential clients mistook me for an assistant yet to earn my degree.” A man and woman edged around them, their curiosity plain. He tipped his head toward the door. “We should probably take this inside.”
Russ unlocked the door, perched on the desk edge and regarded Adam with lingering wonder. “Wait until Ma and Seth hear about this.” He smoothed his hand over his short hair.
Adam pointed to Russ’s hand. “You’re married?”
“Newly married and expecting a baby.”
He slumped into a chair. “What? Who is she?”
“Her name is Anna. I met her in Philadelphia while at law school.” He grinned sheepishly. “I was actually engaged to her sister, Charlotte, once upon a time.”
“You scoundrel!” Shifting forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. “Tell me everything.”
Time slipped away as Russ regaled him with stories from his school days and his eventual introduction to the Darby family. Charlotte had fallen in love with another man, but hadn’t had the heart to break off her engagement to Russ. Assuming responsibility for the breakup hadn’t earned him any points with the young lady’s family. He’d thought his association with the Darbys over until the day Anna arrived in his mail-order bride’s stead, not to marry him, but to inform him that yet another fiancée—albeit, a mail-order one—preferred someone else. However, when widowed Anna discovered she was pregnant, Russell proposed a marriage of convenience.
“You fell in love with her,” Adam surmised. He’d seen it happen. He’d also seen relationships sour. He was glad Russ had found happiness.
“She’s the love of my life,” Russell confirmed, studying him. “What about you? Have you found someone you’d be willing to give up the Pinkertons for?”
Quite against his will, he pictured Deborah Frazier with her blindfold and her experimental cake. Ridiculous to think of her now. He pushed out of the chair and began to pace. “Not yet.”
“That implies you’re searching for the right woman.”
“Not actively, no.” He hesitated to dampen the mood, but he had no choice. “Russ, I’m here on a personal matter. In fact, I’ve got an alias. Adam Draper, a successful rancher from Missouri. No one can know we’re related.”
Russell folded his arms. “Is it Ogden?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” A sigh rattled his chest. “Do me a favor, will you? Don’t mention him to Ma and Seth right off. Wait until they’ve had a chance to rejoice in your homecoming.”
Adam stared at him. “What are you talking about? A trip to Big Bend? Today?”
“Not to Big Bend, little brother. Cowboy Creek is their home now.”
As on his first day of battle when faced with the grimness of death on every side, he grappled with a feeling of unreality. Was this a dream?
“I don’t understand.”
Russell came over and clapped him on the back. “Let’s fetch our horses, and I’ll explain on the way. You’ve got a lot to catch up on.” He smirked. “There are some surprises I won’t spoil, however.”
Before he was quite prepared, he was on his horse and riding south of town beside Russell, who a short time later brought his mount to a stop on what was, apparently, Seth and his mother’s new home.
Adam did the same, observing a wooden sign. “It’s called White Rock Ranch.”
A dormered, two-story house with deep, welcoming porches anchored the vast prairie. A row of young elms separated the house from the barn and corrals. Hay-filled fields rolled gently to the distant horizon. Sun sparkled on the surface of a small pond.
His brother had chosen well. He prayed Ogden wouldn’t sully what amounted to a fresh start.
He flexed his fingers. “The last time Seth and I were together, I accused him of being a coward.”
As the eldest brother, Seth had made the decision to sell off some of the land holdings, and his mother some jewelry and furnishings, in order to pay off the alleged loan. Furious, Adam hadn’t been able to stay and watch his father’s legacy crumble. He’d been young and impulsive. He hadn’t taken the time to consider his older brother’s side of things.
“That was a long time ago,” Russ murmured. “Trust me, he’s put it behind him. The question is, have you?”
He met Russ’s steady gaze. “I’m ready to be a family again.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
While Russell summoned the house’s occupants, Adam dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching post. He was surprised to find his hands were shaking.
“Hey, everyone, come on outside,” Russell called into the house. “Someone’s waiting to see you.” Wearing a goofy grin, he held the main door ajar.
The first one through the door was his ma. He soaked in the changes, the streaks of gray in her brown hair, the crow’s-feet about her eyes.
He rounded the horse and approached the porch steps, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
“Adam!” Her cry was strangled. She launched herself at him, and he caught her in his arms, breathing deeply of her familiar perfume. “Oh, my darling boy.”
She caressed his cheek, her reddened eyes seeming to take inventory of how he’d matured. The heavy thud of footsteps echoed on the wooden slats, and they both turned to see Seth striding toward them.
There were equal parts caution and joy in his eldest brother’s eyes. His brown gaze gobbled up the sight of him. He halted at the base of the stairs.
Adam took a deep breath. “How are you, Seth?”
Evelyn wiped her eyes and looked anxiously between her oldest and youngest offspring.
“Good. Really good.” The breeze ruffled Seth’s light brown hair, pushing strands onto his forehead. “You look hale and hearty.”