Page 13 of Seven Brides for Beau McBride (The McBrides of Montana #3)

But Junebug wasn’t in any mood to answer his questions. “Just because a woman glows at you is no reason to marry her! Spit, this is just like my hickory fishing rod all over again! You skunk-weasel!”

Beau frowned, disconcerted by her nonsense. “What in hell are you talking about?” What did fishing rods have to do with anything?

“Ah, excuse me.” The station master, Bascom, came sidling up in his spotless uniform, the shiny buttons glinting in the afternoon sun.

He glanced up at the clock, which had set up a cheerful chiming.

“The train is due to arrive in ten minutes, so I’d be appreciative if you can speed up your disagreement and get to the resolution.

It ain’t seemly to have passengers disembarking into a kerfuffle. ”

“This ain’t no kerfuffle,” Junebug snarled. “This is goddamn cold-blooded treachery !”

Her dog set up a frenzied barking, as though agreeing with her.

“Right.” Bascom blinked. He glanced back and forth between the siblings and then over at Sour Eagle, who gave a helpless shrug. “Can you resolve this goddamn cold-blooded treachery , then?” He looked back up at the clock. “In less than nine and a half minutes?”

“This crooked dodger lied to me, Bascom. That takes more than nine and a half minutes to explain, let alone forgive.” Junebug was ireful.

Bascom had never been one to accept Junebug’s nonsense. Beau watched as he straightened his jacket and fixed Junebug with his best officious stare. “Well, then, I’d be happy to settle it for you in my official capacity,” Bascom announced. “Put forward your case—succinctly, mind—and I’ll judge it.”

Beau rolled his eyes. Bascom might not accept Junebug’s nonsense, but he certainly could add to it. “You ain’t a goddamn judge, Bascom. The railway don’t give you no official capacities beyond blowing that shiny whistle.”

Bascom held up a warning hand. “No speaking out of turn when court is in session.”

For the love of… This town was full of lunatics, he thought as he watched Bascom listening soberly to Junebug’s comprehensive account of their bet.

“Well, from that testimony, it does seem as if Beau has violated the agreement,” Bascom decided.

“Exactly!” Junebug was fervent. “That’s why I had to up my game—because he was saying he’d marry this Miss Moonglow before I even got a shot! I needed an ace in the hole!”

Bascom was nodding with increasing understanding. “Oh, so that’s why you’ve been meeting all those girls when they arrive. They’re yours.”

Beau flinched like he’d grabbed a hot pan. What?

What the hell was Bascom talking about?

Junebug’s eyes flared and for a moment she looked like a cornered rabbit. But only for a moment. “I can’t believe you, Beau McBride!” she spat, backing away from him and glancing to see if there was somewhere she could run to. “You got some nerve, double crossing me.”

“Whoa! No, you don’t, you little schemer.” Beau was ready to wring her neck. “What does Bascom mean all those girls ?” he growled, taking a step towards her. He noted with satisfaction that she took a step back.

“Don’t go changing the subject.” Junebug shook her fist at him. “You slippery eel.”

“Bascom,” Beau growled. “Explain what you mean by all those girls . I want to know if I’m justified in committing sororicide.”

“What’s sororicide?” Junebug demanded.

“Killing your sister.”

“Good word,” Junebug conceded. Then she kicked a puff of dirt at him.

“Shut up and let Bascom answer the question. What the hell do you mean by all those girls , Bascom?” Although Beau had a fair bloody idea.

As he listened to Bascom describe Junebug greeting a flurry of females, girl after blessed girl, Beau wasn’t sure whether to laugh or scream.

“They’re from all over,” Bascom marveled, his chest puffing up in his shiny-buttoned vest, as proud as if he’d ordered them up himself. “The first one that came in was the schoolteacher from Grand Rapids. She’s a forthright little thing.”

“She ain’t so little,” Junebug interrupted, scowling at him. She didn’t seem to enjoy Bascom stealing her thunder, but she was too wary of Beau to say much more. She made sure to keep well out of arm’s reach, bouncing on her toes like she might scamper if Beau so much as twitched in her direction.

“She’s plump but she sure ain’t tall,” Bascom clarified. “And she’s plump in all the right places, if you know what I mean. I bet the boys sure couldn’t concentrate in class, with her instructing them.”

“What makes you think you can talk about my wives like that?” Junebug growled at the station master.

Wives! Beau’s fists clenched at the thought. “Keep going, Bascom. It ain’t just the schoolteacher from Grand Rapids, is it now?”

“Miss Katherine Burrell is her name,” Bascom told him brightly, “although she mostly goes by Kate.”

“Not to you, she don’t.”

“Junebug,” Beau warned. “Shut the hell up and let him talk.”

“The next one was the sweet one from Florida, Miss Flora.” Bascom actually started blushing like a smitten youth. “She’s Spanish.”

“Puerto Rican,” Junebug snapped. “If you’re going to tell it, tell it right.”

“Wherever she’s from, she’s pretty as a picture and a perfect sweetheart.

And then the next three arrived in a row: Miss Mabel from Wisconsin, Miss Frances from Maryland, and Miss Nancy all the way from Ireland, just like your brother Kit’s wife.

” Bascom shook his head again. “They’re all right pretty too, although some of them are spicier than others.

I prefer the sweethearts myself.” He was about the color of a hot coal now.

“They were all rather confounded that you weren’t here to meet them, I must say.

” He gave Beau a reproving look. “Although your sister here did an admirable job of explaining your absence.”

“I didn’t know they were coming!” Beau was losing his battle with his temper.

“Well, now I know about the bet, it sure does make more sense. I mean, it seemed awful rude of you. Miss Flora just about cried she was so upset.”

Beau felt like kicking Junebug all the way to the Dakotas. “How many are there?” he asked eventually, when he’d caught his temper by the tail.

Junebug was unrepentant. “Including the one on today’s train?” she asked.

Beau didn’t trust himself to speak. He barely managed to nod.

She lifted her chin and gave him an imperious stare. “Six.”

He closed his eyes. Six. His insane little sister had ordered up six mail-order brides.

“I had to,” Junebug sniffed. “Because you’re such an ornery blockhead.

You need to see you’ve got choices and not go marrying the first woman who sends you a glowy picture.

Which is probably a trick of photography, by the way.

Abner says they smear Vaseline on the lens, and it lends a moonglow to the plainest girl.

My girls ain’t plain, that’s for sure. At least, not most of them.

And the ones that are got other assets to make up for it.

” She gave Bascom a sour look. “Sweet and spicy.”

“And is one of these plain girls with other assets on the train today?” Beau was grinding his teeth.

“You’ll like this one, she’s got a way with a letter.”

“I’ve got a damn wife, Junebug! I don’t need another.”

There was an echoing whistle from down the hill and the faint chug of steam above the trees.

Oh God. Miss Diana Newchurch was on that approaching train. With one of Junebug’s surplus girls. And Diana Newchurch was about to get off that train and find a town full of brides.

His brides.

Screw holding his temper. He was going to kill her.

Junebug caught the look in his eye, and before he could lunge, she ran.