The Wedding Ransom Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  About the Author

  THE WEDDING RANSOM

  By

  GERALYN DAWSON

  Without limiting the rights under copyright(s) reserved above and below, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior permission of the copyright owner

  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distributing of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Copyright © 1997, 2011 Geralyn Dawson Williams

  Cover Design: Aggie Artist

  Ebook Creation: Dellaster Design

  Dedication

  Writing is like a chocolate stain. Sometimes it’s hard to get out.

  —John Patrick Williams

  Seventh-Grade Honors English

  This one is for you, John. You understand your mother so well.

  Chapter 1

  Republic of Texas, 1845

  The bite of razor-sharp steel against his jugular jerked Rafe Malone from the oblivion of sleep. Beneath the warmth of the springtime sun he lay frozen, his eyes closed, his senses as sharp as the blade at his throat. Quiet breaths, distinctive scents, and the shifting of shadows relayed the information that three men, possibly four, surrounded him. The thrill of danger coursed through his blood. Here, with death but a slash away, he felt more alive than he had in years.

  It was all Rafe could do to keep from grinning.

  A sting of pain stroked across his neck and Rafe opened his eyes. Sunlight blinded him at first, then four figures came into focus. Good Lord. He blinked and looked again. Pirates? Gray-haired pirates? On his central Texas ranch? A laugh slid past the cutlass threatening his throat.

  “Did you hear that, Ben?” growled the man holding the blade. He lifted a finger and traced the old, ugly scar running across his cheekbone, then tugged at his silver hoop earring. “He cackled at us. I have my blade at his throat and he laughs. That’s proof enough for me.”

  The tallest of the men nodded, the diamond stud in his right ear twinkling in the afternoon sunlight. Wrinkles framed the intelligent blue eyes studying Rafe from beneath bushy salt-and-pepper brows. Clothed in a flowing white shirt and close-fitting breeches, he stood in a spread-legged stance, his hands braced upon his hips. He could have been standing on a ship’s deck instead of a field of green grass beside a shallow creek. “Aye, Gus,” he said in a voice ringing with command. “I heard it. I guess we all know what that means.”

  “No!” A third man loomed over Rafe, fierce dark eyes glaring from beneath the red bandanna tied around his head. He was short and stocky, and with his meaty fists clenched and nostrils flaring, he looked mean as an old range bull. “It’s not enough. Go ahead and stick him, Gus. See what happens then.”

  “I’ll tell you what’ll happen then, Snake,” said the fourth man in a raspy, gravelly voice. “He’ll bleed.” He hunkered down beside Rafe and smoothly confiscated the pistol at the prone man’s hip. “I told you Snake would want to slice him up. He hasn’t killed a man in months. You know what the smell of blood does to him.”

  A maniacal chuckle issued from bloodthirsty Snake’s mouth.

  Rafe’s attention shifted from pirate to pirate, observing their solemn nods, trying unsuccessfully to figure out where this conversation was leading. The fourth buccaneer tilted his head, and his horseshoe-shaped sapphire earring captured Rafe’s notice. Expensive little trinkets, these fellows wore.

  And interesting old scars they sported, too. Rafe winced at the ring encircling the fourth pirate’s neck. At some point in his life, this fellow had been hanged. Rafe swallowed instinctively, having come close to a similar fate once himself.

  Guess this teaches me to take an afternoon nap, he thought, as a gentle puff of cedar-scented wind stirred the bushes around him. After being up the better part of last night helping Dapple Annie bring her foal into the world, he had only wanted a little bit of shut-eye. When he’d stretched out on a comfy bed of clover and succumbed to the lure of sleep, all had been quiet and peaceful around the Lone Star Ranch.

  Having his sleep interrupted wasn’t exactly unexpected. Life on the central Texas horse farm in springtime did tend to run from one crisis to another. But pirates? The very idea of it struck him dumb. His spread lay a good three hundred miles west of the coast. Damn near thirty years had passed since Jean Laffite said au revoir to Galveston Island. Who were these men? Why the hell were they here?

  Did they honestly intend to kill him?

  The one with the diamond in his ear, Ben, appeared to be the leader. Gus-with-the-cutlass looked to him and asked, “What do you want me to do, Captain?”

  Rafe concluded it might be to his benefit to interrupt the answer. He lifted a hand and pushed the blade away from his neck, taking care not to betray any pain as the cutlass sliced into his palm. Propping himself up on his elbows, his fingers in position to reach for the knife in his trouser pocket, he drawled, “Why don’t you boys try heading southeast? Y’all are obviously lost.” He jerked his head to the right. “The Gulf of Mexico is thataway.”

  Cutlass Gus, Snake, and rope-ringed fourth man whipped their heads toward Ben. The captain slowly, solemnly nodded.

  What happened next made Rafe shake his head in wonder. Gus blew a sigh of what sounded like relief as he sheathed his cutlass. The fourth pirate grinned and held out his hand, wriggling his fingers toward Snake who muttered, “Well, clam it.”

  Clam it? Rafe silently repeated. What kind of a curse was that for a bloodthirsty pirate?

  The trio of heavy gold hoops in Snake’s left ear clinked against one another as he yanked off his bandanna. He reached inside the cloth and removed a wad of bills.

  Prepared for a more lethal weapon than cash, Rafe let out the breath he’d been holding.

  Snake shoved the money toward the fourth man. “I can’t believe you actually won the bet, Lucky Nichols. You never win anything. You are the most unlucky man alive.”

  The fourth man, Lucky Nichols, kissed the bills, then gleefully stuck them in his vest pocket, along with Rafe’s gun. “This is a sign that my luck is changing, I can feel it.”

  Snake snorted and reached out a hand to flick a bug off Lucky’s shoulder. “What you’re feeling is a caterpillar crawling up your back. Our bets financed my bad habits for the past thirty-two years, and I don’t see that changing. This was a fluke.”

  “This outcome was predetermined,” interjected the captain, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement. “I warned you not to bet him, Snake. A band of washed-up old cutthroats like us never stood a chance of frightening the likes of Gentleman Rafe Malone.”

  Rafe w
ondered if the Republic of Texas had put in a mental hospital down the road in Bastrop and neglected to guard the gates. Sitting all the way up, he demanded, “What the hell is going on?”

  The leader bowed his head. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Malone. I believe introductions are in order. I am Captain Benjamin Scovall. With me are my colleagues, Gus Thomas—”

  Cutlass Gus saluted.

  “—Snake MacKenzie”

  He folded his arms and scowled.

  “—and Lucky Nichols.”

  Lucky gave his earring a twist and nodded while Captain Ben continued. “We were attracted by your exemplary reputation, Mr. Malone, but since you’ve been out of the…business for some time now, a test of your courage was deemed appropriate.”

  “So you dressed for a costume ball and put a knife to my neck?”

  Ben fingered the billowing blouse he wore and shrugged. “Our dress is no costume, but the garb of our youth. It can be intimidating, don’t you agree?”

  “Yeah, but not all of us could get into his old clothes,” Gus said, looking pointedly at Snake MacKenzie’s protruding belly.

  The short man turned a glare on his companion that widened Rafe’s eyes. A look like that could scare the ugly off a buzzard. “I am pleased to say you passed our test,” Ben continued. “You are a brave one, Gentleman Rafe Malone.”

  “He’s a cocky blighter,” Snake added unhappily.

  Rafe gazed around the ragtag group. What was it the captain had said? Exemplary reputation? Somehow he didn’t think the ol’ swashbuckler was talking about the horse-breeding business Rafe had established with his old friend Luke Prescott. Four years had passed since Rafe had last committed an illegal act. Four years since Luke Prescott tracked him to his east Texas hideout dangling an amnesty from the government in exchange for a little help with a particularly vicious band of murderers.

  Rafe rolled to his feet and casually brushed the dirt from his trousers. “Like you said, I’m out of the business. I gave up thieving years ago, so if you’re here looking for the gentleman in Rafe Malone you’ve wasted your time. I’m plain old Rafe, now.”

  “You’re not a gentleman?” Frowning, Snake MacKenzie folded his arms. “Maggie will want a gentleman.”

  “I’m not a thief,” Rafe replied, eyeing each of the four older men in turn. “Not anymore. I have a deal with the Texas Rangers. The people of Texas get to keep their money, and I get to keep my neck out of a noose.” After a moment’s pause, he added, “Who’s Maggie?”

  “Mary Margaret St. John,” Ben explained. “She’s our granddaughter.”

  Rafe quirked a brow. Four grandfathers?

  Snake MacKenzie snorted. “I thought this fellow was a gentleman. It’s why I agreed to this plan.”

  “It doesn’t matter whether he’s a gentleman or not,” Lucky said, a threat obvious in his voice. “He’s not getting anywhere near our Maggie.”

  “You’re dreaming, Lucky.” Gus shook his head sadly. “You are all dreaming. I’ve been trying to tell you that for some time now. Whether we like it or not, Maggie is a woman full-grown. For all our trying to mold her into a gentle lady, she is her father’s daughter, curse his black soul. She’ll be wanting herself a man before long.” He jerked his head toward Rafe. “Mark my words, she’ll take one look at the shoulders on this fellow and swoon. He’s just the type to attract her. She’ll like his attitude as much as she likes his looks. And we all know how he’ll react once he gets a look at our Maggie.”

  Snake MacKenzie moved like a twenty-year-old as he reached over and grabbed Gus’s cutlass from its scabbard. Before Rafe could react, the blade was back at his neck. MacKenzie spoke through gritted teeth. “Touch even a hair on her head and you’ll lose your own, Malone. Understand?”

  “Put the weapon away, Snake,” Ben instructed. “By all accounts, Mr. Malone is an intelligent man. Knowing Mary Margaret is under our protection, he’ll not trifle with her.”

  Gus rubbed the scar on his cheek. “I’m telling you, he’s not the one we need to worry about. It’s that little gal of ours. By sending her to that fancy school, we tried to mold her into something she’s not. We have quashed her spirit for too many years. Have any of you taken a good look at her lately? Did you listen to her in the courtroom? Our little Maggie is all grown up. She’s going to want a man!”

  “Well I don’t want a woman,” Rafe snapped, backing away from the cutlass.

  “You want a man!” Lucky exclaimed, an expression of alarm flickering across his face.

  Rafe lost his patience. “What I want is the opportunity to enjoy an uninterrupted nap on my own land. Alone! And you can damn well rest assured that if I were in the mood for a woman, she sure as hell wouldn’t be the female offspring of a band of over—the-hill buccaneers!”

  MacKenzie’s complexion flushed red. “Are you saying our Maggie isn’t good enough for you? I’ll have you know she’s the prettiest, sweetest, most gentle and loving girl in Texas. In all of America, for that matter. Maybe even the entire world. It doesn’t matter that the lass is our granddaughter. You won’t be able to resist her. You will try to take her to your bed and then I’ll have to kill you.” He turned to Ben and heaved a sigh. “This won’t work. We may as well go home. He’ll die before he steals our treasure back for us.”

  Rafe dropped his head back, his eyes shut. “I’m dreaming, that’s what this is. I’m really asleep and having a nightmare.”

  The chuckle began softly, then swelled to a full-bodied guffaw. Ben Scovall laughed for a full minute before regaining control. “I haven’t been so entertained since we took that troupe of actors captive off the coast of Trinidad.” He clapped Rafe on the shoulder. “Relax, son. Allow me to explain why we have come.”

  Rafe’s wasn’t in the mood to relax. That had ended when a blade pricked his skin. But surprisingly, neither was he of a mind to throw these intruders off his property. In the midst of MacKenzie’s diatribe a few moments ago, he had said something that caught Rafe’s attention. The pirate had spoken a word—two words, actually—that appealed to the side of Rafe he’d stifled for a long time now: “steal” and “treasure.”

  Damn, but at times he missed the life.

  For the past four years, Rafe had lived on the right side of the law. But prior to that, he had been unarguably the most successful thief in Texas. He’d stolen almost everything under the sun—horses, guns, cash. Anything of value. He’d learned his craft young, stealing food to survive, clothes to wear, all the necessities an orphan required to stay alive. He’d taken a hiatus from thievery during those years the Prescotts took him in and treated him like their own, but after the Texas Revolution—after the debacle following the battle of San Jacinto—Rafe’s outlook on life changed. He’d been betrayed by men in power—the officers of the Army of the Republic of Texas—based on the ugly, false accusations of his half brother Nick Callahan. As a result, he went back to stealing with a vengeance, until his best friend, Texas Ranger Luke Prescott, worked a deal to get him amnesty for his crimes. An amnesty subject to revocation should Gentleman Rafe Malone ever again take to stealing in Texas.

  Rafe wouldn’t break his word to Luke for any price, but he was a curious man by nature. The mystery and ramblings of these old men appealed to that long-unappeased part of him that craved adventure. What would it hurt to listen to them?

  He scooped his hat from the ground and placed it on his head, eyeing Lucky, Gus, and Snake MacKenzie before fixing his gaze on Ben. “Why don’t y’all come on up to the house. I have some decent whiskey, or maybe rum.”

  “Do you have any wine?” MacKenzie asked. “Bordeaux, preferably. It’s heading on to four o’clock. Time for our dose of Lake Bliss water. We’ve found it mixes best with Bordeaux.”

  Lake Bliss water? Rafe didn’t think he even wanted to ask. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said dryly.

  The visitors walked their horses as Rafe led them toward the log dwelling a short distance away. Built in the two-room dogtrot style com
mon in Texas, the house was small but comfortable. Rafe had lived here for a little over two years. The curtains on the window and cushions on the chairs made it a bit fancy for a bachelor’s abode, in Rafe’s opinion. His views hadn’t mattered squat once Luke’s wife Honor had taken it to mind to spruce the place up.

  When Rafe and Luke had decided to go in as partners on a horse-breeding business, the Prescotts had sold their old place, Duvall Farms, and bought the land adjacent to his. They had built a large new home on the other side of the hill from Rafe’s, which was handy because the Winning Ticket Ranch had a damn fine cook.

  Honor liked to mother—a good thing considering she now had four children and an elderly mother-in-law to tend—and she’d taken Rafe on as a project. Other than the matchmaking, he mostly enjoyed the attention. If the pirates gave the bows and ruffles on his frilly yellow gingham window curtains a second glance, he didn’t care. Rafe was nothing if not confident in his manhood.

  Lucky Nichols admired the roses decorating the cabin’s front wall, but as they walked indoors it was Snake MacKenzie who truly surprised Rafe by saying, “Lookie there, Gus. Malone has kitchen curtains just like mine.”

  Rafe also had a kitchen table large enough to accommodate the entire Prescott family when they came to call, so he gestured for the men to take a seat, then rummaged around a stack of storage crates until he found a dusty bottle of port. “This will have to do,” he said, pouring a round for the pirates. Having sworn off liquor for the most part himself, he filled his

  own glass with cider. “So,” he said, taking a seat. “You fellas want to tell me what this is all about?”

  Lucky stood and tugged a small flat bottle from his back pocket. He pulled out the cork with a pop. “This is what it’s about.”

  Rafe lifted the clear glass flask and eyed the cloudy liquid inside. Bringing it to his nose, he sniffed. And grimaced. Rotten eggs. “That smells worse than turned buttermilk.”