Free Boot Hill Bride by Lauri Robinson Page B

dishes instead
    of the cast iron pots. The gold-rimmed hand-painted china
    had disappeared a few years ago, and she still wondered what
    had become of the lovely dishes. The precious china along
    with the meal would certainly give Howard a reason to think
    about keeping her as a wife, wouldn't it? That was it. She
    could offer her cooking skills in exchange for staying here.
    Randi bit her lip and glanced across the table to where he
    stood. A soft ripple of emotions tickled her insides, and she
    looked away. A moment later, a washing of understanding
    happened, flowing over her like the warm sun. It said Howard
    would provide her a safe haven like she'd had with Mama.
    One that promised she'd never have to live with the fear and
    uncertainty she'd experienced living with her father.
    The side of her face began to tingle, and she turned back
    to Howard, meeting his thoughtful gaze. He smiled at her.
    The action made a flush of warmth rise into her face. She
    gave him a quick grin before lowering her lashes. At that
    moment her inner-self made a quick vow—no matter what it
    took, she was staying.
    Ma had everything else set out, so Randi laid the cloth
    she'd used to carry the hot dishes to the table on the end of
    the bench seat and glanced about, somewhat unsure as to
    where to sit.
    Howard reached for her hand and tugged her forward to sit
    beside him on the long bench. Belinda's puckered lips and
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    glare sent a shiver rippling over her shoulders. Between
    Howard's kisses and nearness, and all the cooking, she'd
    forgotten about Belinda's displeasure. Besides belittling her
    about cooking, Belinda had made it extremely clear what she
    thought of Randi's other behavior. She'd claimed if word got
    out she and Howard had been caught in bed together—before
    the wedding—her father's chances of becoming governor
    would be seriously affected. It was all her fault. Randi bowed
    her head, settled her trembling fingers in her lap.
    "Well, it's gonna get cold if you don't dig in," Ma said,
    breaking the silence around the table.
    "Allow me," her father said, taking the lid off the cast iron
    oven. "Mrs. Quinter, your plate please."
    Ma Quinter handed him her plate. "Thank you, Mr. Fulton."
    Howard lifted the plate in front of Randi and handed it
    across the table to her father. "I believe there are two Mrs.
    Quinters at this table."
    Randi held her breath.
    "Oh, of course, you're right," her father said as he scooped
    food onto her plate.
    The other dishes were passed around, the potatoes, the
    carrots she'd glazed with honey, the platter of bread. Randi
    took a helping of each, but her stomach rolled with each
    spoonful. It was foolish to be so hopeful, and wrong to think
    only of herself, her happiness. Belinda had told her more than
    once she was selfish, and it appeared her stepmother was
    right. Randi wanted to stay married to Howard because
    anywhere was better than living with Belinda, but truth be
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    told; she needed to stay married to him to save her father's
    campaign.
    When everyone's blue-speckled plates were full and the
    others began to eat, Randi twirled her fork around on her
    plate afraid anything that went down her throat would most
    likely come right back up. No matter what her reasons were,
    none of this was fair to Howard. None of it was what he
    wanted—needed.
    As if he heard her rambling thoughts, Howard's gaze
    burned the side of her face. She peered at him out of the
    corner of her eye. A fierce frown covered his face, pulled his
    lips into a straight line.
    Inwardly she groaned. A deep disturbing boil grew in her
    stomach.
    "Aren't you hungry," he asked.
    She shook her head, "Not really."
    "Randilynn, don't be rude, eat your dinner," Belinda
    snapped, clearly disgusted.
    Howard set his glass down with a solid thud. His voice was
    low and held a warning growl, not unlike what Randi imagined
    a wolf sounded like.
    "Don't speak