A Bride For Darrell (The Proxy Brides Book 17) Read online

  A Bride for Darrell

  The Proxy Brides Book #17

  Marisa Masterson

  A sweet, historical western romance in the Proxy Bride series...

  If Darrell Dean wants to inherit half of the Silver Queen mine, he needs to marry. Though he doesn't even like the girl, he agrees to marry the local saloon owner's daughter. He doesn't expect the surprise that he receives when a woman interrupts the wedding.

  If Willa VanDurring wants to escape the danger stalking her, she needs a new name and a somewhere far away to go. At her guardian's urging, she agrees to marry Darrell Dean by proxy and then immediately leaves to join him in Colorado. She doesn't expect to interrupt his wedding when she arrives.

  Can a man who didn't agree to marry the proxy bride and a woman pursued by murderers make a life together? What happens when the danger finds her? In a town with no law, how will she survive?

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Leave a Review

  Sneak Peek

  About Marissa

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  For Trevor, the life-long love God gave me.

  Chapter 1

  The bald-headed judge took the cigar out of his mouth and rested it on a convenient ashtray. Staring at Willa VanDurring, he drummed his fingers impatiently on the lawyer’s desk and glared. “I’m due to try a case in twenty minutes. Where’s your other witness?”

  His brusqueness added to the man’s air of importance. That along with Miss Blackthorn’s secrecy and talk of witnesses heightened her already piqued curiosity and alarm.

  Mr. Barrett, the lawyer she’d met minutes before, moved to the doorway of his office and called to his secretary. With that young man’s arrival, the judge asked which person would stand as proxy and who would act as the witness. Though Willa recognized the word proxy, she still fixed a confused gaze on her guardian.

  Turning for help to the only person in the room she trusted, Willa asked, “Miss Blackthorn, why is a proxy needed?” Then she decided good manners could fly out the window. She needed to get to the heart of what was happening to her.

  “What am I doing here?” Rather than ask that of the head mistress, she pinned Mr. Barrett with an intense stare. The man nervously pulled at his paper collar.

  “Certainly, Miss VanDurring, I will be happy to explain.” He was cut off by the shake of her guardian’s head.

  With a nervous fidget, the woman smoothed her black skirt and the story of the red-headed man and talk of danger spilled out. Willa learned a red-haired man with a scarred left cheek had loitered outside the school for the last week. Miss Blackthorn told her about Roger, the groundskeeper at Blackthorn’s Academy, visiting a local tavern and hearing the man drunkenly mutter threats against Willa.

  “I’m very worried Willa, concerned enough to push you into marriage to hide you away.” She met her gaze directly, allowing Willa to see her fear as well as to hear it in her tone. Since she kept her emotions closely guarded, this impacted the young lady greatly and truly made the decision for her.

  The entire time she spoke, short though it was, the judge tapped his fingers on the desk. The tension created by the impatient tapping along with Willa’s trust in Miss Blackthorn led to a snap decision. Suddenly, the reason for a proxy became clear. She needed to disappear. At the urging of her trusted teacher and guardian to go along with the plan, she agreed to become a proxy bride.

  Married to a stranger! With no warning and forethought, Willa committed herself to an unknown man named Darrell Anders Dean. Later, as she thought back on it while rocking endlessly on a train to Colorado, she realized her adventure actually started out, quite innocently, the day Aunt Rhoda arrived at the Academy in Rockland, New York.

  “Miss Blackthorn wants to see you, Willow Tree.”

  She knew by Geneva Watson’s smile she was in trouble. The girl disliked her, for whatever reason, and insisted on using that ridiculous nickname when she spoke to her. Today Geneva enjoyed her role as messenger of Willa’s distress.

  Willa shrugged. No matter how many times teachers chastised that it was not ladylike to shrug, she persisted in the habit. When she didn’t say anything, Geneva snorted—also an unladylike practice—and flounced off.

  The summons honestly surprised her. She searched her memory for a prank or misdemeanor the headmistress might have discovered. Nothing came to mind, increasing Willa’s anxiety.

  The students had received a free day before the start of the new term. She was spending that January day reading Carmilla, having smuggled it into her rooms last Saturday. She began reading it by candlelight last night but found the vampire character too scary right before going sleep. She had decided to ask the groundskeeper to buy something romantic next time.

  At Miss Blackthorn’s door, Willa touched her strawberry blonde hair, ensuring it hadn’t escaped her bun. This was the first year she’d been allowed to put her hair up rather than leaving it lay in a braid down her back. She’d been given the honor since she’d turned eighteen two years prior. This year she would graduate, as Miss Blackthorn had declared she could think of nothing more to teach her in order to keep her at the school.

  Thoughts of leaving brought tears to her eyes. Willa had been in this same school since the age of four. Though she’d been too young to attend Miss Blackthorn made an exception, thanks to her grandfather’s money she was certain. Thus, she’d lived here, both school time and holidays, for the last fifteen years.

  Smoothing out the skirt of her dress, she schooled her features into a serene expression and knocked on the door. As footfalls approached on the other side of the portal, she straightened her carriage, determined not to embarrass or disappoint Miss Blackthorn by showing any hint of nervousness.

  That lady opened the door wide and waited for Willa to enter. “Ah yes! Willa. Prompt as always.”

  Following behind her, she spoke to someone already in the room. “Here she is now, Miss VanDurring. I hope you’ll be pleased by how well she’s advanced.”

  Across the room, Willa spied an elegantly dressed woman seated before Miss Blackthorn’s desk. The woman raised a quizzing glass and the feathers in her hat danced as she looked her up and down. Setting the glass aside, she gave Willa a tight-lipped smile.

  “My yes, she’s a lovely young woman. And such grace and poise.” She looked toward Miss Blackthorn. “You and your teachers are to be congratulated.”

  When she turned back to Willa, she fixed what she must believe was a welcoming smile to her lips. At the time Willa wondered if she scowled more often than she smiled, as the expression appeared to take considerable effort. Still, she appreciated the attempt since smiles were rare at The Blackthorn Academy for Young Ladies.

  “Willa, I’ve found you. I’m sorry it’s taken years, but here I am now to take you home.” She offered no explanation or introduction and Willa was flabbergasted by the bluntness of her declaration.

  She waited for her to say something so Willa quietly said, “Thank you, Mrs.--?”

  Giving a rusty laugh, she introduced herself. “Of course, I shouldn’t have expected you to recognize me. It’s been fifteen years, after all. I’m Aunt Rhoda.” Then she paused, obviously expecting the name to mean something to her.

  When Willa didn’t say anything, she continued. “You don’t remember me? I’m your father’s sister, God rest his soul, and you lived with me before going to school.”

  Here Willa raised a brow in question. “Miss Blackthorn told me I lived with my grandfather prior to coming here.” She let the statement hang in the air.

  The elegant lady gave a tight smile. “Yes, and I lived there as well. Father hid you away, for his own reasons you understand. I’ve tried to find you for years. I promised your dear mama, on her deathbed, to care for you. So here I am now to take you home with me.”

  Aunt Rhoda reached out and gripped her hand as she said that. She had been touched so rarely that this melted her fear as well as her heart. Willa wanted family and dreamed for years of someone coming to visit her here.

  Looking to Miss Blackthorn, she asked, “Miss, am I to go with her?” The headmistress was the closest to a mother figure in her life so she sought guidance from her about this tremendous change.

  The woman in question moved to sit behind her desk and stared at Aunt Rhoda. Miss Blackthorn spoke to her aunt instead of answering Willa’s question directly. “You may be unaware of this, but I am Willa’s guardian until she reaches the age of twenty or marries. She will not be leaving with you.”

  She wasn’t being sent away. Blackthorn Academy had been her world and as well as her family. The head mistress’s statement sent a flood of relief through Willa.

  “I’m sorry Aunt Rhoda. Though I would be delighted to get to know you better, I cannot leave with you.”

  The previously congenial woman rose with a snarl. She flounced to the door. Before exiting she turned and shouted, “We shall see about that Willa!” Then she was gone, the short train of her gown and an atmosphere of tension trailing behind her.

  Miss Blackthorn waved a hand to the chair where Willa’s aun
t previously sat and indicated she should occupy it. Willa sat and waited in silence for a few minutes while the head mistress steepled her hands and tapped her lips with her pointer fingers, deep in thought

  When she finally spoke, the determination on her face told Willa her decision might prove momentous. “It is time, Willa, that you know more of your grandfather. I can’t tell you the reason you were sent to me so many years ago. However, I can tell you that the man lies very close to death now. The lawyer has kept me informed of that as I send updates on your progress to him.”

  Though Willa’s lips trembled a look of censure from her teacher had her quickly schooling her features as she had been taught. Grief, she’d learned, must be private. In control again, Willa asked emotionlessly, “Am I to go to my grandfather before he passes?”

  A look of regret flitted with lightning speed across Miss Blackthorn’s face before she mastered it. “No, I did not mean to imply that by sharing the information with you. I simply wanted you to understand that his passing might involve an inheritance. I fear your life will change drastically in the near future.”

  As if clairvoyant, Miss Blackthorn’s words proved true. After a handful of days passed, Willa and her guardian journeyed by carriage to train depot. When asked where they were headed, the head mistress vaguely responded, “Let it be a surprise.” What an understatement that proved to be!

  They made a short trip by rail to the Grand Central Depot. There her guardian secured a cab. As Willa had only rarely been in Manhattan, she gawked with wonder at the buildings.

  The cab dropped them in front of a narrow brick building not far from the New York City Courthouse, which Willa could see in the distance and recognized from a school trip. Miss Blackthorn didn’t let her enjoy the sights though.

  Miss Blackthorn hustled Willa into the brick building. Quickly reading the signage on the building, Willa saw it housed the law offices of Young, Young, and Barrett. A few minutes later, she learned it was Mr. Barrett who they had come to see.

  Once inside the office, he invited them to sit in straight back chairs arranged at angles in front of a dark oak desk. Before he could speak, the door opened. Turning to look behind her at the door, she saw an older, balding man with mutton-chop side burns scowling in the attorney’s direction.

  “I’m due to try a case in twenty minutes. Where’s your other witness?” And that began the wedding.

  So, she found herself married by proxy to one Darrell Anders Dean.

  Mr. Barrett folded the marriage license as well as another piece of paper and placed them in an envelope. He held it out to Willa. When she grasped it, he refused to release the envelope until receiving her promise to guard it and deliver it to her husband.

  Husband! What had she done?

  Miss Blackthorn hurried her out of the office and into another cab. Back at the Grand Central Depot, she purchased tickets for them but with separate destinations. Willa did not return to the only home she could remember.

  In the matter of a day, she found herself married to a stranger and on a train traveling west—during January, no less! Once, heavy snow on the line halted them. Otherwise the trip was continuous. She slept on the train, stretching out on a row of seats when the train’s lack of passengers allowed this.

  When she snoozed, she dreamed of the red-haired man catching her. Awake, she gazed out the window at the snow-covered landscape and wondered about the man who ordered a bride. Soon, she would know whether Darrell Dean’s hair was dark or blonde.

  Why did he need a proxy bride? She hoped to learn the answer to that as well.

  Willa supposed his hair color didn’t matter. After all, she only needed a kind man and a safe place to live. Silver Town, Colorado was far enough away from New York, her former guardian assured her, that she would escape any danger pursuing her.

  Why does the red-haired man chase me? Will my husband be kind?

  Fear at the possible answers threatened to fill her. So far, her natural optimism helped keep that fear at bay. Now, being close to meeting my husband resurrected terrible scenarios in her mind.

  Mr. Barrett assured her Mr. Dean was respectable, honorable, and not too old. Willa also knew him to be twenty-four, young to hold a respected position in the community. In his letter requesting a bride, he’d written that he needed a lady of grace and charm to assume the role of wife and hostess.

  During her years at school, she rarely socialized so Willa failed to see why the attorney would select her as the bride for this man. When she’d tried to object that day, the judge’s tapping fingers and Miss Blackthorn’s frown quashed her protests and the wedding had proceeded.

  “Silver Town’s the next stop, Mrs. Dean. You’re fortunate to come this year and not last. The new Willow Creek Canyon Depot just opened so you’re right above Silver Town when we stop. Yes, ma’am, 1893 is shaping up to be a much better year for Silver Town than last year.”

  This conductor who traveled with her on the long journey from Chicago, where Willa had been required to switch trains, proved to be a great help. With his advice, she purchased box lunches and knew which depots were best for stretching her limbs.

  Even with his recommendations, she disembarked at depots hesitantly. Miss Blackthorn’s warning about the red-haired man with a scarred left cheek haunted her.

  Why is the man after me? Why did Miss Blackthorn make me leave so quickly?

  The conductor’s words about Silver Town brought a sigh of relief to her. She longed to be held in her husband’s protective arms with his dark head bent over her. No, maybe it was a blonde head.

  The train came to a complete stop, bringing her back to the present. She picked up the carpetbag resting next to her on the seat and walked down the aisle to the door of the train car.

  The carpetbag along with the trunk containing her belongings had been another of her guardian’s surprises. Willa still found it hard to believe that Miss Blackthorn could so quickly pack her things. She’d been in class for only a short time that day.

  Willa waited on the platform of the railway carriage. The conductor positioned a set of short steps and held up his hand. Descending, she thanked him warmly and walked a short distance away from the train, out of the way of other passengers. Then she stopped to look around.

  Snow covered mountains swallowed Willa. Their majesty inspired awe in her but also fear as the landscape appeared alien considering what she’d always known.

  What would the mountains look like in the spring when everything was green again?

  At some of the train’s previous stops, people held boards or paper with names written on them. Since Mr. Barrett assured her a telegram would inform Mr. Dean of her travel plans, Willa imagined a handsome man holding a sign with her name once she arrived at this stop. Looking around, she felt disappointed.

  No one waited for her. Willa conquered her disappointment and decided she needed to find her trunk and then her husband in that order. Stiffening her spine and coaching herself not to worry, she located the station master and asked for help in claiming it.

  Giving the station master the ticket, she escaped some of the wind by hugging a wall of the depot’s small office. Tying the red woolen scarf more tightly at her neck and huddled more deeply into her black wool cloak, she watched for a man around Darrell Dean’s age to make an appearance.

  The station master returned before her husband appeared. “Where you headed ma’am? You want the trunk loaded on the wagon and taken to the hotel in Silver Town?” He looked at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.

  “To tell the truth, I’m not sure what to do. I expected to be met by my husband, Darrell Dean.”

  Shock flashed across the station master’s face.

  “Ma’am, you need to get on the wagon. My boy’s the driver, and I’ll tell him where to take you. Don’t worry.” He hustled over to his son and yanked on the young man’s arm. Then he hurried Willa aboard the wagon.

  The trip from Willow Creek Canyon to Silver Town plunged downhill. The steepness caused her to hold her breath. Willa feared, at any moment, the wagon might plummet to the valley below.

  She wanted to ask the young man where his father said to take her. On the other hand, she didn’t want to distract him. So instead, Willa held her breath, both out of fear and so she didn’t chatter nervously.