harsh tone. With slow reluctance, she met her brother’s wide-eyed gaze.
“What in the hell were those men talkin’ about?”
“Watch your mouth.” She shot Garret a stern glance as she stood, brushing the dust from her skirt.
Garret surged to his feet. “Tell me you didn’t marry this flea-bitten drunk!”
“I’m not really certain,” she replied, keeping her gaze on her unconscious groom. “Everything happened so fast. If I did, I’m sure it wasn’t legal.” She hooked her arms under Tucker’s broad shoulders.
“You weren’t gone but five minutes!”
“Lord, he weighs a ton,” she muttered, barely able to lift his shoulders off the ground. Already pushed to their limits, her tired muscles complained as she tried to drag him toward her horse. Lucky to be standing, she couldn’t move him an inch.
What a fine mess. “How are we going to get him over a horse?”
“Over a horse?” shrieked Garret. “The man was attacking you! Let the coyotes and cougars have ’im!”
“I can’t.”
“What the hell went on in there, and where’s Chance Morgan?”
Skylar gave up her struggle to move the drunken clod and lifted her gaze toward her brother, who was brimming over with anger. “This is Morgan. But his name is Tucker, not Chance. Help me lift him.”
“What?” Garret looked closer at the man lying in the dirt.
“I said his name is Tucker, not—”
“I don’t care what his name is. He’s not goin’ anywhere near our horses! What happened inside that saloon?” Her brother stood rigid as a statue, his hands planted on his narrow hips.
“Calm down, Garret. I’m sure it was a simple mistake. He obviously thought I was someone else and before I could correct him, his friend—”
“Uh, Mrs. Morgan?”
Startled by the deep voice directly behind her, Skylar spun around. A man the size of a giant with more shaggy brown hair than a grizzly stood before her. He pulled off his battered hat and held it to his chest. A broad grin parted the thick fur on his face.
“Name’s Hal. Just wanted to congratulate ya on the weddin’. Never thought I’d see Tuck marry.” He lowered his gaze to the man sprawled out on the ground between them. “Need a hand with your husband?”
The entire town was daft.
Skylar forced a smile, seeing as the man was being quite cordial. “Yes. If you could toss him over my saddle, I’d be much obliged.”
“Not a problem.” Hal gave a slight grunt as he lifted Morgan, who was none too small, and hoisted him onto her horse, belly-down. “His animal is that perty roan.” Hal motioned toward the Appaloosa.
“Thank you, Mr. Hal,” she said with the same plastered-on smile. “That marriage bit, it wasn’t legal…was it?” Skylar held her breath, praying he’d give her reassurance that a prank had been played on her.
“It was legal, all right. Henderson’s a bonafide preacher and you both signed the marriage document. You’re married right and proper.”
“You signed a marriage document?” Garret shouted.
I signed a marriage document? Skylar’s spirits plummeted. She knew better than to sign a paper before reading it! But Tucker Morgan had…he had…she wasn’t sure what he’d done.
“He tricked me,” she said, glaring at the unconscious culprit, wishing she had lodged her boot in his ribs while he was lying on the ground.
“That’s Tuck,” Hal said with a coarse laugh. “Slippery as a wet otter and crafty as the devil himself. Bein’ at his weddin’ was well worth losin’ fifty dollars.”
“Fifty dollars, huh?” murmured Garret.
Hal touched his fingers to the brim of his hat and bid her a good evening before he turned and swaggered back to the saloon. Skylar shifted her gaze toward her horse and found Garret with his hand stuffed deep into Tucker Morgan’s breast pocket. His face brightened with a smile as his hand emerged with a wad of greenbacks.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m hungry! I’m gonna find me a mercantile.”
“That’s stealing, Garret.”
“The hell it is. He’s your husband.” He turned his back to her and started down the road.
Skylar released a long sigh. Her little brother was developing a flippant tongue, although, at the moment, she had far more pressing worries. “See if the merchant knows how to get to Morgan’s place,” she called after him.
She glanced back at Tucker Morgan’s limp body. What was she supposed to do now? Hopefully Garret hadn’t caused any permanent damage, or at least not enough to prevent the handsome cowboy from helping them get to Wyoming.
Chapter 2
I t wasn’t all that uncommon for Tucker Morgan to wake up in bed with a strange woman and a pounding headache, but he wasn’t suffering from an ordinary hangover. The fierce throbbing in his skull wasn’t the only thing out of sorts this morning. He lifted a wet cloth from his forehead and glanced again at the woman sleeping beside him.
Hell. Plenty about this morning was out of sorts. The fact that he and the woman next to him were fully clothed being the most troubling. They even had their boots on!
Her boots weren’t the laced or buttoned-up version most women wore, but the same leather tug-on boots he was wearing. Her uncommonly short hair couldn’t reach past her shoulders. Lying on her side, the golden strands swirled across her face. But her body, now that was all in proper order, with all the right curves in all the right places, and encased in a hideous blue dress that might have fit her once upon a time. The fabric of her bodice molded to the round swell of her breasts like a second skin.
Tucker closed his eyes, the pounding in his head increasing. His headache wouldn’t even let him enjoy the view. He needed coffee and a shot of whiskey. Hell, with this headache, he needed a pint of whiskey.
Groaning, he forced himself to sit up and glance around his bedroom. How had they ended up here? He’d never brought a woman back to this run-down cabin.
Trying to jar his memory, he stood and slowly shuffled toward the kitchen.
“’Morning.”
Tucker jumped at the sound of the unexpected greeting. A young boy with pure white hair sat at the little table that occupied the left half of his cabin. He gave the cotton-topped kid a quick once-over before muttering, “Who the hell are you?”
“Your bride’s brother.”
“My what?” Tucker countered, his headache suddenly forgotten.
