Thimbles and Thistles: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Baker City Brides Book 2) Read online

  Baker City Brides, Book 2

  by

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  SHANNA HATFIELD

  Thimbles and Thistles

  Copyright © 2015 by Shanna Hatfield

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Please purchase only authorized editions.

  For permission requests, please contact the author, with a subject line of "permission request” at the email address below or through her website.

  Shanna Hatfield

  [email protected]

  shannahatfield.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Thimbles and Thistles, book two in the Baker City Brides series — a sweet historical western romance by Shanna Hatfield, set in Baker City, Oregon. Enjoy an adventure in Eastern Oregon in the 1890s, complete with cowboys, a burly Scottish lumberman, a widowed dressmaker, and a supporting cast of memorable characters.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Recipe

  Author’s Note

  Books by Shanna Hatfield

  To those who persevere…

  Chapter One

  Eastern Oregon, 1891

  The pungent scent of sagebrush filled her nose and burned her eyes as Maggie Dalton struggled out of the bush that bore the brunt of her fall.

  Dark brown eyes sparked with anger as she glared at the flighty horse that panicked at the sight of a rabbit and unceremoniously dumped her to the ground.

  Before she could grab the reins, the horse snorted and took off at a dead run in the direction of town.

  “You stupid, stupid beast!” Maggie stamped her boot-clad foot in frustration. “Next time Tully threatens to shoot you, I’ll load the gun myself!”

  Pride thoroughly stung, she brushed at the dirt coating the back of her riding skirt and glanced around. Somewhere between town and her destination, she decided she might as well walk to Thane and Jemma Jordan’s ranch rather than return home in defeat.

  If Sheriff Tully Barrett, owner of the lunkheaded gelding, caught her walking back to Baker City, he’d never let her live down the fact Loco bucked her off.

  Despite his warnings and dire threats to stay away from the crazy horse, she’d snuck over to his barn that morning. She waited in the shadows until Tully left for work, saddled the horse, and rode him around the corral a few times. Just to prove the arrogant man wrong, she decided to take the lunatic equine for a ride out to the Jordan Ranch.

  Generally regarded as a good hand with a horse, this one unseated her with so little effort, she agreed with Tully — Loco lived up to his name.

  A cloud of dust billowed in his wake as the animal raced toward Baker City. No doubt, he’d return to the barn on the outskirts of town and be waiting there when Tully arrived home.

  Maggie had known Tully since she was sixteen. In the twelve years since they’d met, the sheriff had been a good friend, especially when her beloved Daniel died.

  Memories of her husband made her heart ache, so she shook off her melancholy and walked down the dirt road.

  At least the day was pleasant. Although it started out cool, by mid-morning, the April sunshine spread welcome warmth across her back and shoulders as she walked. She’d gone a few hundred yards when the jingling sound of a harness announced the approach of a wagon.

  Embarrassed by her situation, Maggie straightened her shoulders and waited for the wagon to pass, prepared to put on a good face.

  The day rapidly deteriorated from bad to worse. The sight of the wagon driver forced her to release a long-suffering sigh while her smile melted into a frown.

  Maggie tended to like everyone, but something about the owner of the lumberyard in town made her cross and jumpy. Unable to pinpoint what it was about the man that invoked her ire, she went to great lengths to avoid speaking to him.

  With his wagon bearing down on her, she couldn’t exactly run into the brush and hide. Fisting her hands at her hips, she struck a defiant pose and braced herself for whatever he might say to irritate her.

  In the bright spring morning light, Maggie took note of the sunlight glinting off his hatless blond head. He wore his hair longer than she deemed proper and more often than not, it appeared tousled and wild, rather like the man himself.

  Broad shoulders looked like they could carry the weight of the world. Forearms corded with muscles drew her attention as he stopped the wagon beside her.

  Brilliant blue eyes twinkled with humor as he leaned forward and rested an arm on his upraised knee. “Weel, lass, what on earth are ye doin’ traipsin’ around on foot out here in the middle of nowhere on such a bonny day?”

  The man’s Scottish brogue unsettled her, in particular when the letter “R” rolled off his tongue with a delightful burr. The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention, as if eagerly awaiting the sound of his voice, while her knees wobbled. His effect on her only infuriated her further.

  “Not that it is any of your concern, Mr. MacGregor, but I’m on my way to the Jordan Ranch.” Determined to ignore the way the corners of his sculpted mouth lifted into a smile, she narrowed her gaze and offered him a cool glare.

  She wondered what his face would look like without the abominable growth of scruff he sported. The fuzz on his face was just long enough to give him a rakish appearance and set all the twitterpated girls in town into a frenzy of whispers whenever he passed by.

  Fortunately, Maggie was long past the age of having her head turned by the considerable charms of a man like Ian McGregor.

  “On foot? Come, now, Mistress Dalton. Yer known for yer fine thimble work as well as yer talent with horses, but the crazy beast gallopin’ past me wouldna have been yer mount, would he? Surely ye didn’t let the sheriff’s horse get the best of ye?”

  Indignant, Maggie huffed and started walking again. “As I already stated, Mr. MacGregor, it isn’t any of your concern.”

  “Och, lass, but it is.” Ian MacGregor set the brake on the wagon, wrapped the reins around the handle, and jumped down. A puff of dust covered his boots when he landed, but he failed to notice as he hastened to catch Maggie before she marched too far away from him.

  “Please, Mistress Dalton, allow me the pleasure of yer company to Thane and Jemma’s place. ‘Tis their ranch where I’m headed at this verra moment. It would be a great honor to have ye accompany me.” Ian hurried in front of her then executed a gallant bow before winking at Maggie.r />
  Another sigh escaped her throat. Begrudgingly, she nodded her head. “Fine. I’ll ride with you, Mr. MacGregor, but please cease in your flirtatious behavior.”

  Ian slapped a hand to his chest and grinned, dropping most of his accent. “I would never behave in such a manner, lass. It’s not flirtatious if you mean it.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes and ignored the hand Ian held out to help her climb onto the high seat of his big lumber wagon.

  “While you’re still speaking to me, would it be too much to ask, again, for you to call me Ian?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him as she pulled herself up onto the seat and scooted over to the far side. “As I’ve told you before, Mr. MacGregor, calling you Ian is entirely too personal. To do so would hint at a familiarity that simply is not acceptable.”

  “But you call the sheriff Tully and refer to Thane and Jemma by their Christian names.” Ian’s gaze was both imploring and teasing when he settled it on her. “What must I do to earn such a privilege?”

  Flustered by the intensity of his sapphire eyes, Maggie cleared her throat and smoothed a hand down her skirt. “Nothing, Mr. MacGregor. Despite your petitions otherwise, I shan’t call you by your first name. However, should you persist in nagging at me like a fussy old woman, I will most certainly bestow a few other names upon you.”

  Ian chuckled as he climbed onto the seat. The deep sound of his laughter echoed in her ears.

  Aware of his stare as he took a seat beside her, Maggie forced herself to keep her attention fixed on the horses standing patiently in their traces. The urge to squirm nearly overtook her as she waited for Ian to pick up the reins and continue on his way.

  “And why, by all that is right and good, didn’t you say you were injured in the first place?” Ian reached out and grasped Maggie’s upper arm with gentle fingers. “How did this happen?”

  Upset by the horse for running off and the arrival of the lumberyard owner, she hadn’t paid any mind to the sting of a cut. Ian’s big, warm hand on her arm made her skittish. She tried to shake it off, but he held fast.

  “Calm yerself, lass.” Ian’s brogue thickened as he peeled back the torn, blood-soaked fabric of her blouse and examined the wound on her arm. Although deep, the cut didn’t appear serious and had already stopped bleeding. He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the spot.

  When he lifted his gaze to Maggie’s, her face hovered just inches away from his. Time ground to an abrupt halt as he studied the dark, almost black ring around the iris of her eye while the circle closest to the pupil glowed in a beguiling shade of topaz.

  Slowly inhaling a deep breath, the scent of sage mingled with her sweet perfume, further ensnaring his already entangled senses.

  His eyes trailed over her face, taking in her determined chin, stubborn jaw, and creamy cheeks along with rosy lips just begging for a kiss. Bereft of the ability to stop himself, he leaned toward her.

  She gasped and jerked away from him.

  “Mr. MacGregor!” Maggie shoved him back and yanked the handkerchief from his hand, slapping it over her cut. “I’ll thank you to mind your manners and stay on your own side of the seat.”

  A lazy smile he’d used to charm plenty of women did nothing but cause the pretty female glaring daggers at him to stiffen. “If you want to split hairs, Maggie, the entire seat is mine, but I’m more than happy to share with you.” Ian picked up the reins, released the brake, and clucked to the horses. The well-trained team immediately leaned into the harness and started down the road, easily pulling their heavy load. “As a matter of fact, I’m happy to share anything at all. You only need to request it.”

  Maggie scooted over until she pressed against the far side of the high seat, leaving plenty of space between the two of them. “I do believe, Mr. MacGregor, you’re nothing more than a scandalous tease.”

  “Och, lass, you wound me with your words.” Ian switched the reins to one hand so he could slap the other to his chest in feigned insult.

  He smiled as he reached over and plucked a bit of sagebrush from Maggie’s hair. She ran her hand up to her thick braid and dislodged another piece, tossing it aside with a huff.

  Errant curls escaped their confines and danced along her temples and neck. Ian fought down the urge to reach out and finger one.

  “I always did like the smell of sagebrush.” He leaned closer to her and sniffed, inhaling her enticing scent. “Yep, I certainly do love that perfume.”

  Red suffused her cheeks and she glared at him, refusing to dignify his comment with a reply.

  Ian chuckled again and turned his attention to the team, although he watched Maggie Dalton out of the corner of his eye. He’d noticed the striking widow the very day he arrived in Baker City two years ago.

  When he discovered a lumberyard for sale in the growing town, he purchased it sight unseen. The previous owner greatly embellished both the state of the yard and his detailed attention to running the business.

  Everything seemed in shambles when Ian arrived, but he was too excited at owning a business with such potential for the man’s deception to deter him.

  The first evening he was in Baker City, he strolled down the main street, glancing in shop windows and studying the town he’d rashly made his new home. He’d stopped to admire a saddle in a window display and turned as a lovely, dark-haired woman breezed out of a dress shop across the street. He watched as she locked the door then looked his direction.

  She offered him an interested glance before ducking her head and hurrying down the boardwalk. He’d remained unmoving, watching silken curls bounce around the fashionable hat perched at a saucy angle on her head. In that moment, Ian’s heart flew out of his chest and followed her down the street.

  It didn’t take long for him to learn she was a widow of several years, a talented dressmaker, a skilled horsewoman, and a close friend of the sheriff’s.

  He’d often seen her in the company of Tully Barrett, and Thane Jordan, for that matter. Then Thane rushed off to England to settle his deceased brother’s estate and returned home with a niece and nephew, along with a beautiful bride.

  Not for the first time, Ian wondered what Maggie’s feelings were for the sheriff. She was right in that it wasn’t any of his concern, except for the fact she’d captivated him for two long years.

  Instead of returning his interest, she often looked at him as if he was barnyard muck clinging to her boots.

  Ian wasn’t one to give up easily, though. Only a fool would give up on winning the attentions of one such as Maggie Dalton.

  Or maybe it was a fool who’d pursue her.

  Amused at himself, Ian laughed and glanced at Maggie, silenced by her frosty glare. Mindful not to stoke her simmering anger, he turned the conversation to the safe topic of their mutual friends.

  “Have you been out to see Thane and Jemma’s house recently?” Ian kept his gaze on the horses, hoping Maggie would at least respond to his question. He held back a grin when her husky voice tantalized his ears.

  “Not for a few weeks. I’ve been busy completing orders for Easter. Now that the holiday is behind us, I thought I’d take advantage of this sunny day and ride out to see for myself how things are progressing.”

  Maggie always closed her shop on Sundays and Mondays. However, during the hectic Easter and Christmas seasons, she worked every minute she could spare to complete the deluge of orders she received for new dresses. Occasionally, she made men’s shirts and suits, but the majority of her business came from the women in and around Baker City.

  “I saw you burning the midnight oil many an evening leading up to Easter. Do you not have anyone who can help you?” Ian couldn’t count the times he’d started to knock on her door, just to make sure she was fine, but always stopped himself. Intuitively, he sensed his concern would only make Maggie more distant and cool toward him.

  “A few women in town help when they can, but most of the time I can handle everything on my own.”
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br />   “I’m sure you can, lass.” Ian raised a hand over his head and waved as they approached the Jordan’s yard. An impressive two-story house took shape set back from the rest of the outbuildings.

  Ian and Maggie both grinned as Jemma Jordan ran out of the small cabin where the family currently lived. She caught three-year-old Lily before the child ran too close to the hulking wagon.

  “Good morning!” Jemma called with a happy smile as Ian stopped the wagon and tipped his head toward her. “How wonderful to see you both. Can you pop in for a spot of tea?”

  “I thank you for the invitation, Jemma, but I’ll take the lumber over to the house and help unload it straight-away. I know Thane is impatient to finish your new home.” Ian jumped down and jogged around the wagon. Not waiting for Maggie to climb down, he reached up and spanned her waist with his hands, lifting her to the ground.

  Angry sparks shot from her eyes and she stepped away from him as soon as her feet touched the ground. She couldn’t have acted any more insulted or offended if he’d called her a hurtful name or offered some tart remark.

  Ian swallowed a chuckle and followed her back around to where Jemma held a squirming Lily.

  “Ian!” The little girl shouted his name and held her arms out to him.

  “How’s my wee bonny lass today?” Ian asked as he took her then tickled her sides, making Lily giggle and wiggle.

  “I’m wonderful. How are you?” The impish child stared at him with coppery eyes and tilted her head. Unruly curls sprang out every direction.

  “Much better now that I’m holding you.” Ian kissed the little girl’s cheek. She gave him a tight hug then turned to hold her arms out to Maggie.

  Maggie took her and gave her a tender hug. “Hello, sweetheart.”

  “Hi, Aunt Maggie! Did you come to spend the day with me?”

  “Part of the day.” Maggie looked over Lily’s head at Jemma. “If you’ll have me.”

  “Of course we’d love your company.” Jemma smiled at Maggie and looped their arms together as they started toward the cabin. She turned back to Ian. “You’ll stay for lunch, won’t you, Ian?”