The Brides of Chance Collection Part 1

The Brides of Chance Collection.

Kelly Eileen Hake.

ONE CHANCE IN A MILLION.

by Cathy Marie Hake.

Dedication.

To Kelly and Tracey, because you're so fun to brainstorm with. To Tracie for her enthusiasm, and to Christian sisters everywhere who make mission fields of their homes and let their lights s.h.i.+ne for the Lord.

Chapter 1.

San Francisco, 1871.

Stand back, else I'll make ye shark bait."

Miriam Hanc.o.c.k suppressed a shudder and shuffled backward to give the seaman s.p.a.ce. He had plenty of room to get past her, even with his rolling gait. He and the other men sailing the vessel were more than ready to do her ill. She'd done nothing to deserve their wrath, but they'd served it up in large portions ever since the Destiny set sail.

Another crewman clamped his hand around her elbow. "I'll help you down the plank."

She fought the urge to yank away. Within the first days of the voyage from the islands to San Francisco, Miriam had found it necessary to push away overly familiar hands and use her hat pin to counter unwanted advances. Twice she'd been accosted by men who had gotten into her cabin. Both times, she'd managed to save her virtue; but the captain, needing to safeguard her, took to locking her in her cabin.

The Destiny had finally docked. Today was the first time in weeks she'd been on deck.

"Here. I'll carry that." The rough seaman grabbed the valise from Miriam's numb fingers and hauled her toward a gangplank. The splintered length of wood looked anything but safe. His steadying hold would keep her balanced if she cooperated. Truth be told, the way the gangplank seesawed between s.h.i.+p and dock, the most able a.s.sistance might not be sufficient.

A wry smile twisted her lips. Even now, she still might become shark bait.

Once she reached the dock, Miriam fought to stay upright.

"You've lost yer land legs," her escort chortled. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he had no business mentioning lower limbs to a woman of decency. "Stand here a bit. I heard you have a slip o' paper 'bout where to go." He leaned closer and jabbed his callused thumb at his chest. His rotten teeth made for fetid breath. "You could lose that paper an' wait fer Jake O'Leary. I'll be on sh.o.r.e leave in nigh unto an hour. I could show you a right fine time."

She s.n.a.t.c.hed her valise from him. Before she could say anything, someone barked, "O'Leary!"

The sailor jolted to attention. "Aye, Cap'n?"

Captain Raithly stalked down the gangplank. "I'll see to the lady." He pried the valise from Miriam and braced her arm as he led her off the dock. "I did my best by you. You have to understand that."

"It was a difficult voyage."

"Aye." Within a quarter hour, he'd hired a beefy sh.o.r.eman to heft her two trunks to the street. From there, she took a hansom cab to the address Captain Raithly gave the driver. Already weary, she relied upon the skill of the mercantile's owner to arrange the next leg of her journey. Miriam ardently hoped he'd suggest she spend a night at one of the local boardinghouses before he sent her along, but as luck would have it, a stage was ready to leave and there was room on it for her.

By the time the stage stopped in Reliable, Miriam was perilously close to tears. She stood in the street of the tiny town, steamer trunks at her side, as a chilly breeze swirled dirt about her and twilight warned she'd best find shelter. She looked around. Despair welled up. She saw only two women in the whole of the town. Neither could be mistaken for a lady.

Men abounded. They a.s.sessed her with more than polite glances. She'd been subjected to far too many leers to be innocent of the lurid intent behind such looks. To her mortification, Miriam knew she was a spectacle. She hurriedly searched up and down the street to spot the local boardinghouse. She desperately needed a fresh bed and a solid night's sleep.

Just as she came to the dismaying conclusion that no boardinghouse existed, a brick wall of a man burst through the place across the street. The bat-wing saloon doors banged wide open, and he held two adolescents by their ears. Both scrambled to match his stride, and from the looks on their faces, they'd do a jig to keep up so he'd not pinch any harder. The smaller one whined, "Only two beers, Gideon!"

"Neither of you has any business in there," the man growled.

"C'mon, Gideon," the older protested. "I'm fifteen!"

The brick wall hauled them to horses. .h.i.tched directly to Miriam's left. "Fifteen and foolish," he said. "If you ever sneak off and try a stunt like this again, I'll tan your hides'til you can't sit."

The younger of the two lads seemed a bit loose limbed. Gideon grabbed him and half-tossed him into his saddle. He took the fifteen-year-old by the back of his trousers and gave him a very uncomfortable-looking boost onto his mount. He unhitched all three horses, and as Gideon mounted his own gelding, the first boy mishandled his reins. His horse danced sideways until his hindquarters swung around. The youngster lost his balance and fell right out of the saddle-onto Miriam.

Miriam watched in astonishment as the horse's hindquarters came close. She'd stepped back and twisted, but her steamer trunks blocked any further escape. When the boy slumped and slid toward her, she let out a breathless yelp and tried to right him, but he didn't help in the least. He hit her with just enough force and weight to rob her of her balance.

Oomphf! Air whooshed out of her lungs as she landed flat on her back on a trunk. The considerable weight of the youth sandwiched her there.

"Whoopie!" he shouted as he clumsily wrapped his arms about her, then tried to nuzzle her neck.

Miriam kicked and shoved. Instead of dislodging him, she only managed to cause them both to roll off the trunk and onto the filthy street. He held her fast as they tumbled round one more time. Her head hit something hard. Just as nausea and panic welled up, Miriam felt the weight lifted off her. Through pain-narrowed eyes, she watched the brick wall shake the kid.

"Logan, behave yourself for a change." He flung the kid away and hunkered down. "Ma'am? Are you all right?"

She lay there, still unable to draw air back into her lungs. Her head hurt something fierce. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.

A rough hand cupped her jaw. "Ma'am? Logan, you brained her!"

"Schee's reaal purdy, Gideon. Kin I keep her?"

"Drunken fool," Gideon muttered as he tunneled his arms beneath her. Miriam heard him from a great distance and felt the world tumble into a cold, dizzying swirl.

The next thing she knew, Miriam roused to find herself draped across a strange man's lap. A host of tattered-looking men encircled them, and a good half-dozen lanterns illuminated her less-than-circ.u.mspect situation. Pain and mortification wrung a moan out of her, and her lashes dropped a mere second after they'd lifted.

"She's comin' round," someone observed.

The man who held her cupped her head to his shoulder and ordered in a quiet tone that carried exceptionally well, "You men mosey on back to your own business. This gal isn't going to want to be crowded. She needs breathing room."

"Whatcha gonna do if your kid brother addled her wits?"

"I doubt her wits are addled," he said through gritted teeth.

Miriam dimly wondered if she ought to thank him for his faith in her or if she ought to be angry that he'd made such a p.r.o.nouncement without first checking with her. She hadn't even begun to evaluate the damage done yet. Her head felt abominable, and her stomach roiled. She drew in a slow breath to steady herself and push away the pain. A rough thumb brushed lightly back and forth across her cheekbone. Oddly enough, it comforted her.

"All right, sweet pea, open your eyes again. Look at me and say your head doesn't hurt too bad."

She slowly lifted her lashes and stared up into a pair of bright blue, concerned eyes. Three lines furrowed his forehead. Clearly he was worried about her. A flicker of warmth stole across her soul. A lock of black wavy hair fell onto his forehead. He impatiently shook it back out of the way and gently combed his fingers through the loosened mess that had once been her modest, practical coiffure. His fingers. .h.i.t a spot behind her ear, and she sucked in a sharp breath. The darkness started to swirl around her all over again.

He moaned. "Sorry. You've got a nasty goose egg there." His rough hand curled around the nape of her neck and gently kneaded. "Just give yourself a minute here."

A minute. Oh, it was going to take far more than a paltry minute for her to feel decent again. She s.h.i.+vered, partly from cold, partly from pain, and mostly because she'd never had a man hold her like this. Miriam closed her eyes and fought the urge to burrow closer to the stranger. She felt miserable, afraid, and lonely, and she never knew being held in the arms of a behemoth could be so comforting.

"Hey, now, Bryce. The little lady's starting to s.h.i.+ver. Get my bedroll." A second later, he lifted her and slipped her into the folds of something thick and a bit scratchy that carried the scent of wood smoke. Solicitude the likes of which he'd never known surfaced. He gallantly wrapped her, then tucked the edges of the blanket around her throat.

Was it the instant warmth of the blanket or the deft way he held and enveloped her that let her lie limp in his arms? She moved her head ever so slightly, and pain streaked from nape to temple. Pain. Definitely pain was the culprit in her unladylike place of repose.

"This'll help, ma'am." He didn't act at all as if this were an unusual circ.u.mstance or one worthy of alarm. He kept his deep voice pitched low and calming. "Why don't you tell me your name and where you're bound? I'll send for someone to come fetch you."

She wet her lips and whispered, "I'm Miriam Hanc.o.c.k. I'm here to help my sister."

"Your sister?" His voice sounded a bit strained. "Who is she?"

"Hannah Chance."

The arms holding her tightened.

Chapter 2.

She peeled her eyes open. "Do you know her?"

"Yes."

Several of the bystanders murmured, but Miriam couldn't distinguish what they said. Her head pounded like a marching band. She slipped her hand out of the blanket and cupped it over the part of her head that felt so awful. "Perhaps, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, you could ask her husband, Daniel, to come fetch me."

"Miss Miriam, there's no need." He paused and said very quietly, "Daniel is my brother."

"Which one are you?"

"Gideon." Before she could ask about her sister, he said, "Don't say another word, Miss Miriam. Rely on me. I'll take you home."

"The Lord works in mysterious ways," she whispered.

"Shh. Best you go on and sleep through your headache."

"Hannah-what did she have?"

"A girl. She's a darlin' little thing."

She sighed, but her lips bowed upward. Just as she opened them to ask more, Gideon ordered, "No more questions, Miss Miriam. If you're fretting about your things, let me put your mind at ease. We don't have a wagon, so your trunks can stay at the livery tonight. The owner there is a friend of mine, so I can guarantee everything will be safe."

He stood and handed her off to someone. Miriam barely m.u.f.fled her whimper at the loss of his comforting strength.

"Hand her back. Careful."

The man holding her lifted her high, and suddenly the world that already felt unsteady began to spin. Miriam let out a small cry.

"Here we go, sweet pea." To her relief, she ended up in Gideon's arms again. "I mean no disrespect, but I aim to hold you close."

She didn't know what the proper response to such a comment should be, and she couldn't think well enough to concoct a reply. Her head hurt too much.

"Bryce, you see to it Miss Hanc.o.c.k's trunks are taken care of. Then do what you need to, to make sure Logan stays on his horse and gets home. Bring Miss Hanc.o.c.k's valise."

It seemed as if they rode forever. Miriam's head pounded, and Gideon acted as if he understood she couldn't summon the strength to be sociable. He held her securely, and she abandoned any hope of sitting properly. He made no comment about how she draped limply across his lap like seaweed. In fact, every once in a while, he'd give her a soothing stroke as if she weren't a bother at all. The beat of his heart was the only sound between them, and for some reason, the steady rhythm lulled her just as invitingly as the constant surf she'd heard from her bedroom window back home. The drowsiness she felt was a blessing-it kept the nausea at bay.

His order for her to remain silent could be considered a veritable G.o.dsend. Miriam knew she'd embarra.s.s herself if she had to carry on much of a conversation. Even if the queasiness waned, her thoughts scattered too hopelessly for her to stay coherent. She finally tilted her face up to his and whispered, "I don't mean to be impatient, but is it much farther?"

"We're traveling at a walk. Too many gopher holes. I can't risk having Splotch break a leg. It's a solid hour more. Need me to stop for you to, um, take care of, ah, business?"

Though chagrined, she confessed, "I'd be most appreciative."

He eased her forward, and then his solid torso crowded her for a moment as he leaned with the action of swinging out of the saddle. The whole while, his hands stayed clamped securely about her waist. Once he was on the ground, he slid her off the horse.

Her first impression couldn't have been more accurate. This close, there could be no denying the fact that Gideon Chance was a brick wall. He towered over her, and her feet hadn't even touched earth yet. When he set her down, she was anything but steady. Concern colored his voice as he braced her. "I'm going to turn us back to town after you're done. This isn't right."

"Land. Not used to it. The s.h.i.+p..."

"Ahh." A wealth of understanding and relief filled that single syllable as he drew it out.

When they got under way again, he smoothed the blanket around her, dipped his head, and said in a quiet rumble, "I want you to go ahead and sleep now. No use in sitting here hurting if you can drowse through the pain."

"You're most understanding." She tried to hide her yawn, but from his smile, she knew he'd caught her at it. The way he nestled her a tad closer caused an extraordinary sense of security to wash over her. For weeks, she'd lived in dread of every man aboard the Destiny. Though she'd just met him, she had an innate sense she could trust Gideon Chance. Besides, Hannah said he was a fine man. Miriam let her heavy lids drift shut and left herself in capable, caring arms.

Gideon watched sleep overtake her and let out a sigh of relief. He'd managed to keep her from asking any questions yet. He tried to figure out what to do. Things were going to be a mite sticky for a while.

He'd taken the closest horse when he left the ranch in such a fit. The snappy little paint carried him well, but it was a good thing Hannah's sister was a tiny woman. Gideon didn't believe in pus.h.i.+ng an animal too hard. If only he could train up his kid brothers as well as he'd tamed Splotch....

His brothers rode up. Bryce showed the good judgment of letting their horses travel at a mere walk, too-in part to keep Logan upright but also out of caution. Still, since Gideon had stopped along the way for Miriam, they'd made up for the time spent hauling her trunks to the livery.

"Whatcha going to do with her?" Bryce asked.

"We'll see."

"Didja tell her yet?"