Read Online The Rustler's Bride by Tatiana March - Free Book Online

a few things to learn from Mrs. Flynn.
    “So, you know how to hold a knife and fork.”
    Declan looked up from his plate to see Sinclair’s dark eyes measure him. A rare sense of defensiveness stirred inside him. He recognized it as a need to prove that perhaps he wasn’t quite as far from their world—from Victoria’s world—as it might appear.
    “Can read and write too,” he said gruffly.
    “Where did you learn?” Sinclair asked.
    “Went to school in Kansas.”
    “So, you’ve had some schooling, eh?” Sinclair’s tone was full of disdain. “It’s not as if you were an orphan, or the son of a whore, or with a father in prison, and had no chance in life. You were born to decent folks and chose to throw your life away.”
    “My folks were decent. I chose the life of an outlaw.”
    “Father—”
    Without looking in Victoria’s direction, Sinclair lifted a hand to silence her. “Let me finish, girl.” He contemplated Declan in silence. “So, you chose the life of an outlaw? Care to tell me why?”
    “Father, please.”
    Sinclair turned to his daughter. “What is it, girl?”
    “I…I wanted to talk to you about Declan.” She darted a glance at him.
    Alarm tightened in Declan’s belly. He had no idea what she was about to say, but he expected it would have the effect of a spark in a keg of gunpowder. He opened his mouth to interrupt her, but couldn’t think of anything suitable to say.
    Victoria put down her knife and fork. “Have you noticed how the men have started to follow Declan’s lead? He’s only been here a week but already Lenny looks up to him, and Hank has nothing but good to say about him, and…”
    Sinclair held up his hand again. “I know what goes on around my property. Get to the point, girl.”
    “I thought…well, I thought that maybe you could appoint him a foreman. Take some of weight off you. Leave you with more time to read those science stories you love, and for your work on the town council.” In her stride, she spoke in an eager rush now. “You could even run for the mayor. Go into politics. Heavens, a few years from now you could be the territorial governor.”
    “God save me from that fate,” Sinclair muttered. His expression hardened. “What’s gotten into you, girl? I haven’t employed foreman since the last one left to marry that rancher’s daughter up near Flagstaff, soon after your mother passed away. I’m a working boss. I have no need for a foreman.”
    Declan could see Victoria’s hands curl over the edge of the table, knuckles white. “Well,” she said carefully, “In that case, what about plowing some fields and planting corn? We could diversify. Declan grew up on a farm, didn’t you?” Her eyes implored at him. “He would know all about it, could oversee the enterprise.”
    Sinclair made a sound of dismissal. “Girl, that’s a crazy notion. The land here’s not fertile enough. Next thing I know you’ll be talking about planting a field of tulips. What’s gone into you?”
    Declan tried to ignore the almost painful swelling of emotion inside him. When Victoria kissed him—or tempted him into kissing her—he had assumed she was merely satisfying her feminine curiosity. Now it became clear to him that she harbored some romantic notion of making the marriage real, of finding a future that included him.
    He knew it was no use to dream. He couldn’t become a part of her world. And yet, he couldn’t help the warmth that filled him at Victoria’s obvious efforts to create a place for him at Red Rock, to make sure that when his year was up there would be something that required him to stay.
    As he watched her, Victoria lifted one hand to her mouth and gnawed at the pad of her forefinger, as if she had a splinter stuck in it. He’d noticed her do it several times already, and the odd gesture puzzled him.
    “Don’t worry about me, Victoria,” he said, striving for a casual tone. “I’m satisfied with the chores you father has lined up