Bride School: Mary (The Brides of Diamond Springs Ranch 4) by Bella Bowen Page B

her
personally.”
    The big man's face fell and he retreated back to
his cup of whisky and the chair. “Well,” he finally said, staring at the fire, “ye
missed a rare treat.”
    John didn't understand. “Has she already married
then?”
    Connell shook his head. “She's dead. Last
November. The ground was hard by the time her body was returned to us, but I
dug the hole meself.” He made a harsh sound, then hissed, “at least they
allowed me that much.” The last of his whisky disappeared and he poured himself
another glass.
    John finally understood. “They told you she was
dead, is that right?”
    The Scot frowned and looked up. “I buried her,
mon. She had better be dead.”
    John glanced at the door, then stepped close and
leaned over the poor man. “They told you she was dead, Connor. But she's
not. As of last December, she was still at Diamond Springs Ranch refusing to
choose a husband...”
    A second later, he was pinned up against the edge
of the hearth with a wide, muscular arm across his throat.
    “Ye mean to tell me my Alexandra's still alive?”
    John was barely able to nod. Only when he dropped
onto his feet did he realize he'd been lifted off them. “Just outside Sage
River Wyoming...”
    Connell turned toward the door. “Da! Would ye join
us please?”
    The door opened quickly and the older man stepped
inside. The smile on his face lingered from the last conversation about someone
named Matilda.
    “Yes, son? Do ye need me advice?” He frowned at
the decanter of whiskey. “I'll take some of that.”
    Connell's sudden smile didn't reach his eyes. “Oh,
Da. Dinna by shy. Take all of it. And choke on it.”
    The skin around the white fluffy hair turned deep
red. “What say you?”
    “Bah!” Connell waved a dismissive hand. “Ye need
to have them change the headstone, Father .”
    “What headstone?” The old man started backing
toward the door, his face still glowing red.
    “Alexandra Campbell's.”
    “Oh?” He kept backing. His son advanced.
    “Aye. Because the only thing buried in that box is
my love for all things McDonald!”
    The old man stopped. “Now, see here. No son of
mine—”
    “Ye're right about that, ye bastard. I am no son
of yers.”
    ~ ~ ~
    It was a mere ten minutes later when John and
Connell McDonald rode away from the old man who was more intent on stomping his
hat into the dirt than watching his son ride out of his life.
    John was a little surprised to see that Connell
didn't seem the least bit upset, so he asked him about it.
    “Auch, well, my bonny Alexandra is alive. What
more is there to grieve about?”
    John felt duty-bound to point out that the woman
may well have married in the past three months. After all, at least twelve
dozen men had gone to Sage River in that time looking for a pretty bride. And
if Miss Campbell had given up hope that Connell would ever find her, she might
have moved on.
    “Does it matter?” Connell asked. “My Alexandra's
alive. Alive! And if she's married to someone else...” The big man's
eyes finally betrayed his emotions, and fat tears splashed down his cheeks. “Well,
whoever he is, the poor man will have to find another wife, that's all.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
     
    Mary’s shovel dug into the cold stream bed one
last time and came up with a satisfying load of sand and pebbles. She added it
to the half-full bucket and called it good. If she loaded the pair of buckets
too full, her back would be hurting in the morning.
    She fixed the yoke over her shoulders and sighed.
She shouldn’t have come for another load after all. She would be sore for days.
But when she thought of all the mud at the bottom of her front porch steps, she
decided the pain was well worth it. The pebbles and sand would save her
scrubbing the floor three times a day until summer dried things up.
    Spring in Wyoming was a magical time…except for
the mud.
    The cabin her brothers had purchased twelve miles
west of Sage River was twice as big as the ones she’d