Page 11 of Seven Brides for Beau McBride (The McBrides of Montana #3)

“There’s a plague of girls happening.” Jonah sat down on Kit’s old bed and bent over to pull off his muddy boots. “It was all anyone was talking about when Purdy and I came back through Bitterroot.”

Beau was poleaxed. “What in hell are you talking about? There ain’t no girls in Bitterroot. Have you and Purdy been at the moonshine again?”

“Nope. There’s definitely girls. We saw a few of them out taking a stroll, three or four of them in flowery dresses, with their hair in fat curls, and ribbons on their bonnets. Old Abner even laid some boards along the main street so they don’t muddy their boots and skirts up.”

“ Abner ? From the saloon?” Abner was a scarred civil war veteran who tended bar in a rickety one-room cabin in a clearing, which he had the temerity to call a saloon.

He was an old coot who spat tobacco in the street, tossed his chamber pot out his back window, and cussed like it was a competition.

Beau couldn’t imagine him knowing what manners were, let alone employing them.

Jonah grinned. “You wait till you see him. He’s shaved that face mop off and styled himself some sideburns. Judging by the smell, he’s invested in some cologne too. And he’s brushed off some very old-fashioned courtesies. Bowing and the like every time he sees one of those pretty girls.”

Beau’s thoughts were racing. “But where’d the girls come from? There certainly weren’t any last time I was in town. Not besides the usual, anyway.” Hell, if there’d been girls, he wouldn’t have had to resort to ordering up a wife.

“Fritz Langer says they’ve been arriving on the last few trains. A girl here and a girl there.” Jonah yanked his socks off and the odor of his unwashed feet filled the small room.

Beau swore at him. “You’re stinking up my room.”

“Maybe I should borrow some of Abner’s cologne.” Jonah sniffed at his socks and then at his feet. He grimaced. “Guess my first order of business is to take a bath in the creek.”

“These girls.” Beau clicked his fingers in front of Jonah’s face, to return him to the topic at hand. “Are they for the whorehouse?” There were a lot of new silver mines springing up and miners sure were prone to an excess of whoring.

“I doubt it. They don’t look like whores. They’re over at the Bellevue hotel and Mrs. Champion is acting the mother hen instead of housekeeper. I heard the preacher had tea with them, which I don’t reckon he’s ever done with the whores.” Jonah shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it on the floor.

Beau snatched it up and threw it out into the main room. He took Jonah’s hat off the hook and tossed it out too. “This is my room,” he reminded his little brother.

“I know.” Jonah stretched out with a pleased groan. “But now it’s mine too. These beds are far more comfortable than our old bunks.”

“You didn’t move yourself in here when it was just Morgan’s room,” Beau complained.

“Well, neither did you. No one wants to be trapped alone in a room with Morgan.” Jonah grinned. “Except maybe that wife of his. Poor Pip.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be trapped alone in a room with you either.” Beau felt like dragging the bed out of the room, Jonah and all. He certainly wasn’t bringing Miss Diana Newchurch up here to share a room with his goddamn brother.

“Feel free to go back to the bunk in the main room, then,” Jonah suggested. “Or if you’re headed down to Bitterroot to get acquainted with those girls, why don’t you take a room at the hotel and stay there for a while?”

“Why don’t you ?” Beau growled. His nerves had turned to straight out agitation. “Why would a bunch of girls come to Bitterroot anyway?” Beau glared down at his brother. “And why now?”

“Hell if I know. Maybe they’ve gone and answered ads like Maddy and Pip did?

Wasn’t old Roy still advertising for a yellow-haired wife?

A lot of the miners seem lonely too, maybe they’re ordering up wives for themselves.

” Jonah eyed Beau. “But if you didn’t know about the girls, how come you’re all dressed up? ”

“None of your business. And you better be out of my room by the time I get back.”

“That’ll give me time for a nap, at least.”

Beau headed for the door. “Junebug!” he bellowed as he stepped out into the bright fall day. He bet she knew something about these girls; Junebug was the biggest gossip on the mountain.

Junebug was nowhere to be found. Not in the stables, not in the henhouse, and not in her vegetable patch, which was overrun with unpicked pumpkins. She wasn’t in the forge with Kit, nor in the big house with Kit’s wife, Maddy.

“The cow hasn’t even been milked,” Maddy fretted, her Irish accent making even her displeasure sound like music. “The poor thing is complaining fit to die.” She rolled up her sleeves. “I guess I’ll be doing it again.” Then she’d narrowed her blue eyes. “What are you all dressed up for?”

“Just going into town,” Beau said evasively, backing away from the kitchen door and out into the meadow.

“Why are you going into town?”

“No special reason.” He turned and headed for the stable, trying to act normal, and wishing he’d thought up a suitable lie. He hadn’t planned on talking to anyone before he left.

“Why are you looking for Junebug?” Maddy called after him suspiciously. “What’s she done now?”

“Nothing.” Beau headed for the stable, swearing under his breath.

He hoped Junebug wasn’t up to no good anyway, he thought grimly as he saddled Dutch, his spirited Appaloosa. But where the hell was she?

Damn his family. It was supposed to be a good day.

His day. Why did Jonah have to come in with all this talk of girls?

Why did Junebug have to go and run off, on today of all days?

And now he just bet Maddy was going to stir up Kit about Junebug’s absence and the day would go completely to hell, with Kit raging and storming down to Bitterroot, causing a fuss.

There was nothing romantic about your bride seeing your family in full tempest before you’d even properly introduced yourself.

Beau’s mood darkened even further when he mounted up and registered that Junebug’s pony was gone from the stable.

And her ridiculous dog was nowhere to be seen either.

Usually Beast was bouncing around the meadow, chasing critters and yapping his little head off.

Junebug had been too quiet lately, he realized.

She’d been slipping about her business each day without a ripple of trouble, which wasn’t like her at all.

Why hadn’t she been shoving mail in front of his face and arguing for her choice of bride?

A realization hit Beau like a blow to the head. Today his bride was arriving. And Junebug was missing…

He wouldn’t put it past that little sneak to have read his mail.

He swore. And he thought he’d hid it so well, down in the root cellar, which she avoided like the plague.

He tried to think back to when Junebug had last mentioned the bet.

He couldn’t remember. In fact, she’d been quiet ever since that day in the clearing, when he’d told her about Diana…

Shoot. He’d been so busy making plans with Miss Diana Newchurch that he’d lost track of Junebug—which was always dangerous.

Damn that kid. She had a dose of the devil in her.

She got that from their father, Beau thought sourly, as he rode out.

His ma certainly hadn’t been devilish, and neither had his other sisters, God rest their souls.

That fool kid wasn’t allowed to ride off on her own and yet her pony was missing.

Beau felt like kicking something. He’d bet his hat she was trying to horn in on his first meeting with Diana.

She probably had some half-assed plan to snarl it up and ruin it for him.

She was goddamn infuriating. And bloody stupid to go haring down the mountain on her own.

She had no idea the risks she faced, especially now the mountains were crawling with prospectors.

Beau glanced over at the forge as he pointed Dutch down the meadow.

He could see Maddy at the forge door, holding a milking pail, and knew she was alerting Kit.

Damn it. He didn’t want Kit coming down to Bitterroot today.

But he also didn’t want to go over there and head him off, because Kit would take note of his fancy get up and he wasn’t one to let things lie, the way Jonah and Maddy had.

Kit would give Beau bloody hell once he found out Beau intended to marry a stranger.

Beau would rather put off talking to Kit until the deed was done. That way his brother couldn’t snarl it up for him either. He’d sort Junebug on his own, meet his bride, enjoy this happy damn day, and handle his brother later.

Dutch felt Beau’s tension and turned skittish as they headed down the mountain for the four-hour ride to Bitterroot.

Beau tried to soothe him, but it was near impossible, given Beau was just about as skittish as the horse was.

His mind conjured up nightmares, all of them featuring Junebug, and he knew that whatever he imagined, the reality was bound to be worse.

That little brat better be in town. She better not have been thrown from her horse in the woods somewhere or molested by prospectors.

If anything happened to her out there alone, he’d damn well kill her.

At least he would after he’d killed whoever, or whatever, had hurt her.

And then he’d kill her again for whatever she was up to down in Bitterroot. Because he knew she was up to no good.

Maybe she didn’t know about Diana, a hopeful little voice whispered. Maybe she’d heard about all those girls and was heading down to get a look at them. That would be just like her. She was curiouser than a cat. Not that he wasn’t curious himself…