Wild Roses

by Hannah Howell

Genres: Westerns; Historical Romance; Western Romance

Synopsis

In this captivating romance from New York Times bestselling author Hannah Howell, set against the backdrop of frontier-day Wyoming, two lovers discover a passion as vast and wild as the land itself. . . Harrigan Mahoney's assignment was clear: travel to Wyoming, find runaway Ella Carson, and escort her to Philadelphia--by force if necessary. A simple task, made devilishly complicated by Ella's wit, beauty, and spirited determination to outfox him at every turn. Ella is no stranger to bad luck, but it seems wholly unfair that the man hired to drag her back to her greedy relatives should be the most intriguing male she ever set eyes on. The tall, dashing Irishman takes no pains to hide his attraction to Ella, but it is her overpowering desire for him that presents the greatest danger. . . Praise for Hannah Howell and her Highland novels. . . "Few authors portray the Scottish highlands as lovingly or colorfully as Hannah Howell." -- Publishers Weekly "Expert storyteller Howell pens another Highland winner." -- RT Book Reviews

Release date: June 24, 2013

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 324

Sample

Wyoming, Spring 1874

“I hope you can forgive us, sir, but it was necessary to lock up your wife.” Deputy Smith wiped a stained handkerchief across his sweaty forehead.

Harrigan Mahoney smiled politely at the nervous man, immensely satisfied with the deputy’s gullibility. “She made a fuss, did she?”

When the rotund deputy hefted his short, soft body out of his chair, Harrigan stood up as well. It did not surprise him in the least that Ella Carson was stirring up trouble. He had been persistently warned about her volatile temperament by her Eastern relatives before he came to the wilds of Wyoming to get her. All he could do was pray that she would give up the fight once she knew she could not win. The thought that he might have to deal with a spoiled rich girl’s tantrums and pouts for the entire long journey back to Philadelphia made him shudder inwardly.

“It took three of my men to drag her from that aunt’s house,” the deputy said as he tugged on his tobacco-stained shirt. “They’re all nursing bruises now. That damned aunt of hers nearly shot my man Clement. That ain’t no way for women to act. I’ll be right pleased to see the last of her. Taking that aunt of hers too?”

“I hadn’t intended to.”

“A real shame, that is,” muttered Smith as he lumbered toward the cells at the rear of the squat wooden building. ”It’d be a damned sight quieter around here with Louise Carson gone.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Harrigan strolled after the deputy. The next few minutes would be tricky. He could only hope that the deputy felt so much animosity toward Ella Carson that he would not heed a word she said. If he had judged Smith right, the man would never take a woman’s word over a man’s and that could only serve him well.

It was difficult to maintain his air of calm when Smith stopped before Ella Carson’s cell. Harrigan cursed inwardly. The picture her relatives had given him had shown her to be a passably attractive young woman. It had not prepared him for the thick waves of dark auburn hair tumbling down her slim back to her tiny waist. No photograph could have done justice to her alabaster skin, now touched with a becoming flush of anger. The dull tones of the picture had also stolen the beauty of her rich green eyes, a beauty only enhanced by the glint of rage sparkling in them as she glared at him. The soft dark green gown she wore, though wrinkled and dirty, complemented both her slim figure and her coloring. Ella Carson was tiny, delicate, enchantingly lovely, and as furious as any woman he had ever seen.

“Your husband is here,” the deputy grumbled as he fumbled with the key to the lock on her cell door. “You shoulda told us you was wed, Mrs. Mahoney.”

“I do not have a husband, you empty-skulled piece of refuse,” Ella snapped.

She glared at the tall man standing next to Deputy Smith. She hastily shook aside the traitorous thought that she would not mind calling such a handsome man husband. He had to be six feet tall or more, broad-shouldered, lean, and strong. That strength was clear to see in the way he stood and in every line of his elegant form, which was well displayed in a tailored black suit and crisp, white shirt. His glossy black hair was thick, wavy, and a little long, hanging just below his shirt collar. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, a perfectly angled nose, and a slightly full mouth formed a face that was very easy on the eye. When she finally met his gaze, she caught his brief cocking of one smoothly arched brow and the hint of mockery in his heather-grey eyes, and renewed fury pushed aside her attraction to him.

”Now, darlin’, you can’t keep playing that game,” Harrigan drawled. “I’ve told the deputy the whole sordid tale.”

If she had a gun, Harrigan mused, she would shoot me dead. It was abundantly clear that Ella Carson had the wit to know exactly why he was there and who had sent him. It was also abundantly clear that she did not want to return home. The trip to Philadelphia could prove to be a very long one.

“Oh, this is a very clever game, this is—Mahoney, is it?—but do not think that it will succeed.”

Harrigan pulled a mournful face and slowly shook his head. “Why do you persist in this, sweet girl?” What little he could hear of her furious muttering made Harrigan glad that he could not understand it all. “Now, for once in your life, just come along quietly.”

The deputy moved closer to Harrigan. “You sure you want her back, Mr. Mahoney?”

“She is the burden I must bear,” Harrigan replied. “And it is well past time that I relieved you of it.”

“Suits me.”

The instant the deputy opened the cell door Ella made a dash for freedom. Harrigan was ready. He caught her up against his chest in a tight but not painful hold. She displayed no such concern for his well-being. He winced as her small booted feet belabored his shins. Only half listening to her soft but persistent tirade, he decided that she had spent too much time near the docks in Philadelphia. For the benefit of the deputy, he heaved a deep sigh of resignation as he draped her over his shoulder.

“Y’know,” muttered the deputy as he followed Harrigan away from the cells, struggling to keep up with the younger man’s long strides, “I ain’t never held with a man beating his wife, but I’m beginning to think there might be cause now and again. Yes, indeedy, and a wife or two what’d be the better for it.”

“Put me down,” Ella snapped, “and I’ll show you who’d be the better for a good thrashing, Smith, you bloated sack of pig swill.” She lifted her head up a little and, through the curtain of her tangled hair, she saw the deputy flush a deep red. “You had better put a stop to this, Deputy Smith, or, as soon as I get free of this thick-necked ruffian, I will have you charged as an accessory to kidnapping.”

“Now, darlin’,” Harrigan said as he patted her slender, well-shaped backside and ignored her gasp of outrage, “the deputy knows the whole unpleasant truth.”

“The deputy doesn’t know squat, and if you call me darlin’ again, I’ll cut your lying tongue out.”

“We shouldn’t be airing our differences in public like this, sweet thing. I mean to prove to you that that woman didn’t mean a thing to me.” Harrigan saw the way the deputy nodded solemnly as he held the door open for him, and mentally patted himself on the back for concocting the tiff over an affair tale, one well embellished with hints of past marital turbulence.

“Sometimes a man just can’t help himself,” agreed Smith. “Women oughta understand that. A man has to taste his pleasures. It’s the way of the world,” he intoned heavily as he followed Harrigan out onto the creaking wooden sidewalk.

Ella gaped, unable to believe what she was hearing, and managed to raise herself up enough to look at the perspiring deputy with pure disgust. “Intelligence has not graced your family for many a generation, has it, Smith?” She frowned, certain she felt laughter ripple through the man holding her.

Deputy Smith opened his mouth to reply to her insult, then suddenly gaped, staring down the rutted street of town. “Oh, hell. That aunt of hers has gotten free.”

Harrigan looked in the direction Smith was staring and nearly gaped as well. A tiny woman, nearly as delicate of build as the one he carried, was marching toward them. Her thick chestnut hair was half pinned up and half tumbling around her slim shoulders. What held his gaze was the fine new Henry rifle she carried. When she stopped and aimed it at him, handling the weapon with ease and skill, he found it hard to believe that such a tiny, pretty lady would shoot him. Blind instinct made him dodge to the left just as she fired.

The two men who were chasing the woman finally caught up with her and tackled her onto the dusty road. As they struggled with her, finally wrestling the rifle from her grasp, Harrigan glanced behind him at the wall of the jail. Judging from where the bullet had splintered the rough wooden clapboards, Harrigan knew that, if he had not moved, she would have shot a very large hole in his right leg. He felt sure that the swearing, struggling woman being dragged toward them had intended to maim him. The job he had been hired to do, one he had seen as a quick, easy way to earn money, was looking more difficult by the minute.

“Hell’s bells, Louise,” shouted Smith as the men holding Louise paused in front of him. “You coulda killed the man.”

“That would have been my pleasure,” hissed Louise, tossing her head to clear the tangled hair out of her face, “but even an idiot like you knows that I always hit what I aim for. If you’d just fix your squinty pig eyes on the hole I put in your jail, you bloated fool, you’d see clear that I wasn’t aiming to kill the bastard.”

Ella looked at her furious aunt. “Thank you kindly for trying, Auntie.”

“I’m not done trying yet, Ella,” Louise vowed. “This is not over. Not by a long shot.”

“Oh, yes it is,” snapped Smith. ”I’m locking you up, you mad woman.”

“You’ve got no right to do that,” protested Ella. “There is no law against shooting a building.”

“Don’t you go telling me what the law is, girlie,” Smith said, glaring at Ella.

“Someone has to. You are too stupid to know it yourself.”

Before the flushed deputy could respond to yet another insult, Harrigan said, “It would help me some, Smith, if you could hold the woman until I am clear of this town.”

“Glad to oblige,” answered Smith. “Sure you don’t wanna press charges? Then I could hold her a lot longer than that.”

“No need. Holding her until I leave will be good enough.”

“Well, I think you’re making a big mistake there, but . . .” Smith shrugged. “Lock her up men. And Clement,” he called to a gangly young man crossing the street to join them, “you escort Mr. Mahoney to the train. Don’t want any of Louise’s boys causing him trouble.”

“Don’t you fret, Ella,” Louise called as the two men holding her dragged her into the jailhouse. “I’ll get you free of this. This low, stinking hireling won’t get you back to Philadelphia. I won’t let those thieving, murdering leeches who call themselves our kin get their slimy hands on you.”

The deputy slammed the door shut behind Louise the minute the men got her inside. “Damned troublesome female.” He frowned at Harrigan. “Has kin back east, huh? More like that?”

“Good God, no.” Harrigan shuddered with distaste. “A much more refined branch of the family tree. I am praying that their influence will calm my wife’s fractious nature.”

“They will calm me, alright,” Ella snapped. “They’ll calm me right into my grave. You take me back to Philadelphia and you’ll be an accessory to murder.”

Harrigan shook his head and sighed, then briefly shook the deputy’s soft, plump hand. “Thank you for all your help, sir. Just let me get on the train and on my way. Then you may let Miss Louise Carson go.”

“You sure?” The deputy frowned at the jailhouse door. “Maybe if I hold her until you get to Philadelphia—”

“No need, Deputy Smith.” Harrigan started toward the train station at the far end of town. “What can she do once the train leaves?”

“You clearly do not know my auntie,” Ella drawled, glancing up in time to see the deputy shaking his head as he reentered the jailhouse. She turned her attention on the young man following them, his downcast expression revealing how much he hated the chore. “Clement, you know this is wrong.”

“It ain’t wrong for a husband to be taking his wife home.” He shook his head then looked at her accusingly. “You shoulda told us you was wed.”

“I am not married! I do not even know who this slinking cur is!”

“Harrigan Mahoney, at your service, ma’am,” Harrigan said quietly so that Clement could not overhear him. “No point in arguing with them. They all believe me.”

“That simply proves that you are a skilled liar and they are stupid, Clement,” she said, giving the young man as beseeching a look as she could manage while hanging upside down. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“Well, no,” Clement agreed reluctantly, “but I ain’t known you for too long. This might be something you would lie about.”

“Fine,” she ground out, her teeth clenched in fury and frustration, “but even if I am married to this hulking fool, it is not right to allow someone to take me away when I do not want to go.”

“I reckon a husband can do it. Uh-oh.” Clement tensed, moved closer, and placed his hand on his gun. “It’s a couple of your aunt’s boys.”

Harrigan frowned as three tall young men moved to stand directly between him and the waiting train. The darkest of the three moved a little closer, peering around him at Ella. When the youth looked back at him, his black eyes were hard and narrowed, and Harrigan tensed. He doubted the youth was long into his twenties, but the lean face he now looked at said that those had been hard years.

“I think it would be wise if you’d put our Miss Ella down now, sir,” the youth said, his voice deep and cold.

“Now, Joshua,” said Clement, “this here is Ella’s husband.”

“Husband?” Joshua looked Harrigan up and down slowly. “I don’t think so. Ella ain’t wed.”

“He says—”

“Don’t give two damns what he says. What say you, Ella?”

“I am not married to anyone,” Ella answered, feeling the tension in the man who held her and wishing she could see what was happening. “That scum in Philadelphia hired this fool to take me back to them.”

“Well, I think we’ll put an end to that plan here and now.”

When the young man pulled his gun, Harrigan silently cursed. He could almost hear the deputy’s young man trembling beside him. Joshua was steady and calm, as were his two companions, who slowly drew their pistols as well. The few people who were loitering in the area hastily moved away. He wished he could do the same, but he had signed an agreement that he would do all he could to bring Ella Carson back to Philadelphia. Harrigan was trying to decide if that meant he should allow himself to be shot down in the dusty road of a struggling, dirty little town when he saw his assistant George Morgan slip out of the train and begin to silently advance on them, a rifle in his hands. Things could still turn deadly, but Harrigan felt a little less helpless and cornered.

“This is between Miss Carson and her family,” Harrigan said. “Why not leave them to sort it all out?”

“If they want to discuss things, they can come here. Put her down,” Joshua ordered.

“I think it’d be a fine idea if you boys’d put those guns away,” said a deep voice followed by the ominous sound of a rifle being cocked.

Ella cursed, tried to lift herself up, then tried to peer around Mahoney. Although she could not see anyone’s face clearly, she recognized Joshua’s boots and ornate belt buckle. He was flanked by two more of the youths everyone referred to as Louise’s boys. What made her tense was the pair of legs she could see directly behind them. Instinct told her that that man was the one who had cocked the rifle. What she could see clearly was that everyone except the man she was draped over was holding a gun and the tension between the men was so thick she could feel it pressing in on her. Although she was terrified about being put in the reach of her Philadelphia kin, she did not want anyone to die trying to save her.

“Give it up, Joshua,” she said. “This isn’t worth dying over.”

“No? Didn’t you say those folks back east are eager to see you dead?” Joshua asked, never taking his gaze from the unarmed Harrigan.

“They are, but I’m not in their hands yet.”

“This bastard means to put you there.”

“There are a lot of miles between here and there. You can’t win this standoff. And that pig, Smith, has put Auntie in his jail. She could use some help and I could certainly use her free and fighting for me.”

For one long minute the tense confrontation held, then Joshua and his friends put their guns away. Ella breathed a sigh of relief and felt it faintly echoed in Mahoney. She intended to fight hard and long every step of the way to Philadelphia, but she did not want the trail to be littered with the bodies of her friends.

“Don’t you worry none, Ella,” Joshua said as he and his friends began cautiously to move away. “We’ll get Louise out of trouble and then we’ll get you free of this. That flock of carrion back east won’t be picking on your bones.”

“How colorfully put,” Ella murmured as she watched her three erstwhile rescuers walk away.

“Phew,” Clement said as he reholstered his gun with a shaky hand. “I thought Joshua was going to shoot you dead, Mr. Mahoney.”

“Oh, not with you here to protect me, Clement,” drawled Harrigan as he nodded his thanks to George and started toward the train.

“Sir, I couldn’t shoot a man. Hell, I can’t hit anything I shoot at. Joshua knows that, too.”

Harrigan glanced at a morose Clement and suddenly realized that none of the young men had aimed their guns at Clement. In fact, they had mostly ignored the timid youth. Since the deputy had made it clear that he was glad to see the Carson woman leave, and that he expected trouble from “Louise’s boys,” Harrigan could not understand why he had been given such an inept guard. Smith was either incompetent, or unaware of Clement’s failings. One look at Clement’s morose face was enough to make Harrigan decide not to file any complaint against the young man.

“I think it would be best if we got out of here as speedily as possible,” said George, pausing at the door of the train to let Harrigan board first. “This job isn’t looking as easy as you thought it would be.”

After murmuring his thanks to Clement, who left them with a graceless haste, Harrigan nodded, briefly grimacing at his assistant. “Once we’re on our way, the situation will grow calmer, George.”

“I am beginning to think you have about as much wit as the deputy,” said Ella, cringing a little as they strode through the passenger car, for she recognized several of the people there. “My aunt will be hot on our trail as soon as that idiot Smith releases her.”

“Her aunt?” murmured George as he helped Harrigan settle Ella on a seat.

Harrigan briefly told George about the confrontation at the jail. “We will be on a train rolling steadily toward Philadelphia. I don’t see her as much of a threat.”

Ella was just about to reply when Harrigan clicked shut a pair of wrist shackles, chaining her right arm to the arm of the seat. For a brief moment she was stunned, then mortified, certain that every other person in the train car was staring at her. Then fury pushed aside all other feeling. Harrigan sprawled in the seat next to her and she glared at him.

“This is not necessary,” she said in a cold voice as she fruitlessly tried to free her wrist.

“I will release you once we are moving and have put a goodly distance between us and this dusty town,” Harrigan said.

She looked at the other man, the one Harrigan had called George, who sat across from them. George was not much taller than she was and slender of build. His somewhat narrow face was softened by thick waves of dark brown hair and surprisingly large hazel eyes. Those eyes revealed his discomfort, and Ella wondered if she could use that to her advantage.

“Don’t waste your time,” drawled Harrigan, smiling faintly when she scowled at him. “George may not agree with all I do, but he will not go against my wishes.”

“Ah, I see. The lackey has a lackey.”

“This journey will go much more quickly and smoothly if you would cease to hone your tongue on my skin.”

“I do not see why I should consider your comfort when you are taking me to my death.”

Harrigan studied her closely and frowned. He was beginning to think that she really believed what she was saying. For one brief moment, he considered the possibility that she was telling the truth, then shrugged it aside. She did not want to go home and was simply trying to sway him to her side. The rich were good liars, he thought bitterly, and would say or do anything to get what they wanted.

“That is utter nonsense. You might as well give up that lie because I will not swallow it.”

“I do not lie.”

He uttered a short, scornful laugh. “The rich always lie.”

“You are Irish, Mr. Mahoney, and I would have thought that you would know well the folly of such sweeping condemnations.”

She was pleased to see the flicker of discomfort on his face, but still inwardly cursed. There had been a wealth of bitterness behind his insulting words. Some wealthy person had done him a wrong and now she would pay for that. It was unfair, but she would be foolish to ignore the fact. Nor did she have the time to change his mind. It surprised her to realize how badly she wished to do so.

“What you believe or do not believe,” she continued, “does not matter to me in the slightest.” She hoped he could not detect the lack of conviction behind her words, something that deeply troubled her. “I will not be in your company long enough for it to affect me.”

“No? Already planning your escape?”

Ella ignored the derision in his deep voice. “Yes, and I am sure that Aunt Louise will soon be along to assist me.”

“Your faith in your aunt is admirable, but misplaced. She is nearly as delicate as you are and we are secure within a moving train. There is nothing she can do.” He frowned and felt a twinge of unease when she slowly smiled.

“You do not know my auntie.”

“Louise, are you sure we ought to do this?” Joshua Longtree asked quietly as he sprawled in a delicate chair. He warily watched Louise Carson march in and out of the front parlour of her small house throwing the things she thought she needed for a trip to Philadelphia onto a plush burgundy settee.

Louise stopped after tossing a large bowie knife onto a tangled pile of clothes, and slowly turned to face Joshua and his three equally concerned companions, Edward, Manuel, and Thomas. Joshua and Thomas were half Indian, Manuel and Edward half Mexican. All of them had known little more than abuse and hatred in their lives and it had made them hard. She had saved the life of each one of the young men, taken them in, nursed their wounds, and given them work on her small ranch. She had never asked any return for her kindnesses, but had gained their unfaltering loyalty. There was no doubt in her mind that they would follow her to the gates of hell if she asked them to. Following Ella to Philadelphia and trying to rescue her could be just as dangerous, and she could not willingly push them into the middle of that.

“I have to do this. You do not,” she said as she started to stuff her clothes into a small carpetbag.

Joshua looked at his three friends, who subtlely nodded, then looked back at Louise, smiling faintly over her unusual agitation. “If you go, we go.” The other three youths nodded again.

“That is so good of you,” she murmured, and sat down on the settee. “This could be very dangerous. Ella and I were not victims of female hysteria when we told you that her life was in danger.”

“Never thought it.”

“Those people in Philadelphia want only one thing—Ella’s death. They will not see any of us as an impediment to that plan. They will sweep us all aside if they can. You know they will feel free to be rid of you, seeing you as no more than half-breeds and outcasts. They will see me in much the same light. I know I have always jested about it, but I truly did leave Philadelphia in disgrace. There are many people back there who still suspect that Robin Abernathy was my lover and that I killed him in a fit of jealous rage. What I am trying to say is that, although I am a Carson and the Carsons are highly placed in that society, I am not. I will be no protection for you.”

Joshua moved to sit next to Louise, lightly patting her tightly clenched hands. “If you’re fretting that we’ll do something we don’t really want to because we feel we owe you, stop it. I won’t say that a sense of obligation ain’t part of what’s prodding us, but there ain’t no shame in that. Ella treated us kindly and that little miss sure as hell doesn’t deserve to die just so her kin can take what don’t belong to them. We don’t want you doing something dangerous without us and you don’t want us in danger either. Ain’t no choice though, so why don’t we just all agree to watch out for each other and get down to the business of saving poor Ella.” He flushed when Louise impulsively hugged him and then scowled when the others laughed.

It was almost noon before they had everything ready for their rescue attempt, and Louise cursed softly as they rode away from her small ranch. The train now had a two-hour head start. Although they could take a more direct route than a train, and the one Ella was on would make a lot of stops, catching up to it was not going to be easy. Getting Ella off of that train could well prove to be impossible. Even if they were able to snatch Ella from her captors, that would not put an end to the danger she was in. It would only postpone the inevitable confrontation. Louise had the sinking feeling that the time had finally come to face the threat that had hung over them all for three long years. All she could do was pray that they could successfully eradicate it and that they would all survive.

An ear-splitting scream erupted from Ella, and Harrigan pulled away from her so quickly he nearly fell out of his seat. He glanced at the other passengers in the train car and flushed slightly under their accusatory stares. When he looked back at Ella she was no longer asleep but sitting calmly and tidying her hair. His first thought had been that she had suffered from some terrible nightmare, but his initial stirrings of sympathy abruptly faded. He now suspected that it was just another one of her ploys intended to discomfort him.

“You seem to have recovered from your bad dream very quickly,” he drawled as he relaxed in his seat.

“Bad dream?” Ella looked at him, feigning innocence, and could tell by his narrowed eyes that he did not believe her act. “Ah, that. Yes, it was rather horrible. For one brief, terrifying moment, as I woke, I feared that I been thrust into the pits of hell. I was quite certain I could feel the devil’s hot breath upon my cheek. I could even smell its foulness.”

Harrigan clasped his hands over his stomach, sternly resisting the urge to cup a hand over his mouth, breathe into it, and test the freshness of his breath. He knew she was referring to him, to the way he had been leaning so close to her as he had prepared to nudge her awake. For a moment he had lingered in that position, struck by the sweetness of her expression. He had been strongly drawn to the fullness of her mouth and the way her lips had been faintly parted in innocent invitation. He had even found the length and thickness of her dark lashes of intense interest. It was a little embarrassing to have been caught in his observation, but he would never give her the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I am pleased that you have calmed yourself, have realized that it was only a dream.”

“Was it?”

“You are hardly in hell, Miss Carson. You greatly exaggerate your situation.”

“You, sir, know nothing about my situation.”

“I know all I need to know.”

“You know only the lies my conniving relations have told you.”

“And you are the sole voice of truth, are you?”

His sarcastic tone enraged her, but Ella fought to control that emotion. Screaming insults at the man would do little to aid her cause. It would probably just confirm every lie her relatives had told him. A calm, steady repetition of the truth was what was needed. There was the chance that, if she said the truth often enough, and firmly enough, the man might at least begin to question t. . .