Wildfire in His Arms Read Online Free PDF Page B

wedding. And those two don’t come out of the bedroom long enough for anyone to figure out anything.”
    Mary chuckled. “Actually, I’d worry myself—if they did. Or has it been so long you don’t remember how we were when we first got hitched?”
    He leaned over and kissed his wife tenderly. “If I didn’t have a ranch to run . . .”
    Mary giggled. “I’ll remind you tonight that you said that.”
    Glancing back at the dust cloud, he conceded, “I think you were right. That’s a mighty big feather on one of those bonnets. No one in town other than our new daughter-in-law would own a hat like that, except for her mother.”
    â€œI’ve changed my mind. I don’t think Rose has even unpacked her bonnets yet. And she never wore them when she lived here before. She prefers wide brims same as I do, to keep the sun off her cheeks.”
    â€œThen I give up.”
    â€œGood, because if you’ll just rein in your curiosity for a few more minutes you’ll know exactly who is coming to visit.” But when the buckboard stopped in front of the porch, Mary added as she stood up to greet their visitors, “Or not.”
    The young woman was definitely not from Nashart or any town close by. If the young woman weren’t so richly garbed in navy silk, her black hair, blue eyes, and her age, which Mary guessed was midtwenties, would have made Mary think she was the real Jennifer Fleming, whom Frank Warren had hired from Chicago to be his housekeeper, the gal Tiffany had been pretending to be when she was their housekeeper. Mary couldn’t take her eyes off the young woman’s stylish clothing. Three rows of short ruffles ran down each side of the front of her jacket, from shoulders to waist in exquisite detail, with pearl buttons down the center. Another row of ruffles crossed the front of her skirt where it was draped back to form part of the bustle. It was just a traveling ensemble, and yet it would outshine the fanciest apparel at any of the shindigs in Nashart.
    This was a lady, a rich city lady, and now Mary’s curiosity was more rampant than her husband’s. Ladies like this didn’t come to Montana without a good reason.
    The second woman was older and not as elegantly dressed. The two-man escort who had ridden on either side of the buckboard weren’t local boys, either. Wearing city suits, bowler hats—and gun belts—they were definitely guards of some sort. One of them dismounted to help the women down from the buckboard. Zachary rose and walked to the top of the porch steps, Mary following him. Only the young lady and her chaperone walked toward the porch.
    â€œMr. and Mrs. Callahan, I hope?” the young lady asked.
    â€œThere are a lot of Callahans here and more’n one missus,” Zachary replied.
    The lady seemed delighted despite the indirect answer. “Then I’ve come to the right place. I’m Allison Montgomery. This is my maid, Denise. We’ve traveled all the way from Chicago to find my fiancé, Degan Grant. The detectives I hired to locate him traced him to your ranch.”
    â€œYou’re a bit late,” Zachary said. “Degan was working for me, but his job here is finished. He lit out last week after the wedding.”
    Allison looked distraught. “He—he married?”
    â€œHe didn’t, our son Hunter did,” Mary quickly put in. “But Degan never mentioned he had a fiancée.”
    Zachary actually chuckled. “Nor would he. The man never talked about himself.”
    Allison sighed. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed that he’s no longer here. Do you know where he was going when he left?”
    â€œWest, but that could be anywhere,” Zachary replied.
    â€œHunter might know more.” Mary then added to her husband, “Why don’t you fetch him while I get some more coffee. You’re welcome to come into