The cowboys bride, p.1
The Cowboy's Bride, page 1
The Cowboy’s Bride
The Hardestys of Montana
Barbara Ankrum
The Cowboy’s Bride
Copyright© 2024 Barbara Ankrum
EPUB Edition
The Tule Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
First Publication by Tule Publishing 2024
Cover design by Lee Hyatt Designs
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AI was not used to create any part of this book and no part of this book may be used for generative training.
ISBN: 978-1-962707-07-7
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Dedication
This one is for you, Dear Readers. For all of you who have supported me and loved the stories I’ve told throughout the years, bought my books, encouraged me with your sweet reviews and kept me going. Thank you. I couldn’t do this without you. You’re the best!
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
The Hardestys of Montana series
More books by Barbara Ankrum
About the Author
“Intuition is your heart whispering the truth to your soul and hoping you hear.”
—Kate Spencer—
Chapter One
“Everything is perfect.”
Eliza Stanton, Texas state congresswoman and mother of the bride sighed like Snow White seeing the wishing well for the first time as she fussed with her daughter’s long, blonde hair in the bridal changing room. “Absolutely perfect. The flowers, this dress, the chapel. The groom. Everything, frankly, Isabella, except for this hair.”
Isabella stared at her image in the full-length mirror, taking in her mother’s slight frown as she tucked in a stray piece of Isabella’s hair that wasn’t quite up to par.
“Stop fussing, Eliza, for heaven’s sake,” her grandmother Lucille scolded, brushing a crooked finger along Isabella’s cheek comfortingly. “You’re going to make the poor girl more nervous than she already is.”
Eliza tossed her mother an amused look. “She’s not nervous. Are you, darling.” But before she could answer what was clearly not a question, her mother added, “Because the church is filled to the brim and, of course, with everyone we hoped would come. Senator Duff Kramer and his wife Marion are here. Along with the mayor and his wife. The lions of the community. They’re all seated in the second row. On Theodore’s side, of course. But still…”
If only her mother’s political ambition could be put on pause just for today. But today was the point, after all. Today was the apex of all of Eliza’s hopes and dreams for Isabella, considering the family she was marrying into. The Margates, one of Dallas’s wealthiest families. Raphael Margate, patriarch extraordinaire, especially.
Marrying Theo was, perhaps, the first thing in her life that had made her mother truly happy or made her look at Isabella with something resembling pride. Or validation. But even that had its limits.
Her mother clucked her tongue. “Isabella, stand up straight. You’re spoiling the line of the dress.”
Isabella shifted on command, wishing Meg, her maid of honor, would come and rescue her from her mother. But Eliza had sent her on an errand to check on the flowers, which were all perfectly perfect and in place.
Isabella wished she had stood up for herself more in the planning of this day. Wished she hadn’t let her mother bully her into inviting so many people she didn’t know, or choosing a dress she wasn’t in love with, or even picking the color of the bridesmaid dresses. While everything was perfectly tasteful—as it would always be with Eliza Stanton—none of it was truly Isabella’s choice. But rocking any boat her mother was captaining had never been productive.
But today was a new beginning for her. She could almost taste her new life with Theo—being loved for exactly who she was and not who her parents wanted her to be.
Who that future her was, exactly, she wasn’t quite sure. But she’d find out. At least she was on the brink of finding out. Better late than never.
At almost thirty, it was well past time.
Her skin prickled with a flash of heat, even though it was only the end of May and the blades of the ceiling fan spun above her, stirring a weak breeze. Summer hadn’t yet fully begun to press in on Dallas as it would in July. Still, she should have chosen a December date for her wedding. But it hadn’t really been her choice at all.
She cast a longing look at the leaded glass window to her left that was partially open. “Have you seen Theo yet?”
“I caught a glimpse of him a few minutes ago,” her grandmother volunteered. “He’s here and looking quite dashing.” And then she mumbled, “Even if he did think so, himself.”
“Mother,” Eliza warned.
Lucille rolled her eyes, earning a grin from Isabella. No doubt, Theo was well aware of his good looks. Sometimes—often—she even wondered if he felt like he was slumming with her.
In her mind’s eye, Isabella imagined him standing at the front of the church waiting for her, looking all … perfect in that black Gucci tux he’d bought on his last solo trip to Milan with his guy friends.
Lucille was right about one thing. Theo had been quite taken with himself in that tux when he’d tried it on for her at his apartment months ago, dancing over to her to the downbeat of a Drake song before stripping that suit off one devastating piece at a time. And by the time he was done, he had her under him on the sectional—her, shrieking with laughter and desperate for him to touch her everywhere. That might be the last time she could remember having his full and undivided attention before the wedding preparations moved into full-blown chaos.
Isabella blushed at both the memory and at her opinionated grandmother, the only person here with absolutely no stake in her marriage to Theo. For a moment, Isabella wished she was little again, sitting with Lucille on her wicker porch swing, sorting through the thousands of antique buttons Lucille’s own great-grandmother had collected a hundred years before. A mindless, but wonderful game they’d invented between them on summer days spent at her big house in the Hill Country when her parents were off campaigning.
Afterward, they’d play Michigan poker with Lucille’s girlfriends, using the colored buttons as currency even though all of those ladies had more actual money than God. There was always a small, cash payout, and sometimes, Isabella even won. And all the elderly women would fawn over her prowess with cards and secretly slip in a few extra dollars to the pot, even though money was never the thing she lacked most.
But in Lucille’s eyes, Isabella was always enough.
Today would finally end all the speculation in her parents’ eyes as to whether she would ever fulfill her potential. Today, at twenty-nine, she’d marry the man of her—and her mother’s—dreams. She’d be Mrs. Theo Margate. And any doubts that might have crept in in the last few months would seem ridiculous after today. They’d be happy. She knew they would.
Isabella swiped a bead of sweat from beneath her nose.
The idea of marrying into Theo Margate’s family for her mother was like … catnip to a feline. As a state representative, her mother was not only ambitious for bigger and more, but she was also hungry for the kinds of connections Theo’s father could circle into her sphere. The potential list was long.
Of course, her mother never said as much in so many words. Not to Isabella at least and certainly not to Theo. But even her father—who had lived with Eliza’s consuming ambition most of his life before moving off on his own a few years ago—seemed embarrassed by how she gushed about Isabella and Theo’s future. And if that stole a little of the shine off her relationship with Theo, Isabella tried not to feel bitter about it. Eliza would be Eliza and there was no stopping her.
If Theo sensed her mother’s ambition, he never mentioned it, short of maybe drinking a bit more when they were all together or laughing a bit more loudly. He was a private man and even with her, there were things he never discussed. Business, for one. Family was also an off-limits topic, even though he worked for his father’s empire, in the corporate end of the Dallas basketball team he partially owned.
Theo’s parents were divorced, and she’d never met his mother who had left the family years ago for a separate life in California, essentially abandoning her boys, Theo and his brother Jason, as youngsters.
Theo’s father had married Helena, a wo
She had let go of a lot of little things over the past year, but that was the nature of relationships, right? Letting go of little microaggressions that meant nothing, really. He worked a lot. But so did she. He’d missed more than a handful of dates they’d planned because of his job, but that was to be expected. Of course, he apologized for all of that, saying he was distracted, saying the wedding and all that came with it had made him tense and that work was overwhelming.
Except for the fact he’d had virtually nothing to do with the planning of the wedding, she got that, and she gave him that grace and told herself this was just how love worked.
“We’re gonna be good together, Isabella,” Theo had told her just yesterday, staring down at the beautiful ring he’d bought her at Tiffany’s almost ten months ago. “You’ll see.”
“I know,” she’d whispered back.
But it hadn’t occurred to her before this very moment to wonder whether he’d said that to convince her or himself?
Of course, they’d be good together. Better than good. Brilliant. Everyone said so. Everything was perfect. Today would be perfect. And in just a few minutes, Theo would vow to love her forever in front of all their family and friends and she would finally—once and for all—belong somewhere. Some place of her very own.
Her maid of honor, Meg, burst through the door in all her blush-colored silk glory. She looked amazing as always. “They’re ready. Theo and Alan are standing up at the front of the chapel with Reverend Mitchell. Are you ready?”
Isabella held up one finger and pushed away her mother’s fussing hands, crossing the room in a swish of silk to the half-open window.
Air. She needed air.
Bending down, she inhaled the damp spring breeze wafting through the window until she could straighten without being dizzy.
Just nerves. Perfectly normal.
Even her forever best friend, Carrie, who couldn’t make it from the West Coast to the wedding because of her late-stage pregnancy, had admitted to nerves five years ago when she’d married the love of her life, Deke Reimer. Three moves, a career change and two and three-quarters kids later, they were still together. Deliriously happy, by all accounts. So maybe everything would be fine. The two years she and Theo had been together had had ups and downs like any couple, wrangling compromises all couples made. But the last few months had been good. Better than good.
A bride who didn’t get a little nervous before the most momentous day of her life was probably overconfident. Or crazy.
Outside the church, in the circular driveway that bisected the sprawling, green lawn, a tall, dark-haired man leaned against the side of a champagne-colored six-passenger limo, his curls falling against his forehead obscuring a clear view of his face as he stared down at his phone. He had the cheekbones of a model. That much she could tell. Not as perfectly, darkly handsome as Theo. Few were. But still, altogether, he was—
She blinked, pulling her gaze from him.
What are you doing? Focus. Breathe.
But entirely against her will, she looked back at him, at the long, graceful leanness of him in his black suit—almost a tux, but somehow better on him than that. Running five fingers through his hair, he seemed to react badly to something on his phone and he jerked a look toward the street just as a small, tan dog trotted toward him on a long leash and stopped in front of him.
Isabella smiled at how the dog craned its neck up at him, begging for attention. The man obliged, scrubbing the fur behind the dog’s ears before crouching down beside it to give it his full attention. The woman whose dog it was stopped to chat, and he smiled up at her.
Theo didn’t much like dogs. But she hoped to change his mind.
The man petting the dog was, of course, the driver Theo must have hired to take them to the hotel reception after the ceremony. He’d mentioned that the driver had worked for his father several times. Though, she wondered how Theo would feel about what their friends—her friends—had done to the back of that limo. Tin cans. A JUST MARRIED sign.
She inhaled a long slow breath. So tacky and yet so sweet.
Her father popped his head in the doorway. “What’s the holdup?” he demanded. “Isn’t she ready?”
Isabella turned toward him, arms out to her sides.
Taking in the sight of her, Jonathan Stanton let out a low whistle and mimed taking a photo. “Ah. Look at you!” His smile told her he was pleased with her appearance, but she longed for him to pull her into his arms and tell her she looked beautiful. Just once.
“It’s just … her hair,” her mother complained, still plucking at that strand. “It’s not quite—”
Isabella batted her mother’s hand away. “It’s fine. Please, Mother. Stop now.”
Eliza forced a smile and handed Isabella her bouquet, a gorgeous concoction of white hydrangeas and creamy roses. “You’re right. All that’s left is the I dos.”
Her father offered his arm.
“We’ll be good together, Theo and I? Won’t we?” she whispered.
He looked surprised by her question. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Of course, you will,” her mother answered. “Theo is everything we both hoped for you. And more.” Because she couldn’t help but add a small dig.
Turning back to the mirror, Isabella pulled the strand of hair back out of the updo that Neila, her hair person, had so carefully crafted—twists of hair, artfully curled into a plaited bun at the back of her head and a wispy veil cascading down her past the Monique Lhuillier long-sleeved satin gown that her mother had chosen—because Isabella preferred a little imperfection. At least imperfection she could control.
Moments later, she found herself walking down the aisle toward Theo, who was watching her with a hungry look that no one, least of all her, could miss. His best man, Alan—Theo’s best friend since college—looked … odd. Which was to say, he wasn’t looking at her at all, but at the floor instead.
Meg, who had preceded her down the aisle, took her place opposite Theo at the alter and looked beautiful and happy, as did the other bridesmaids, all friends Isabella had had since grade school. She felt a knot of emotion clog her throat and she tightened her hand around her father’s arm.
There were things she longed to say to her father, things that felt important. But they rarely said those kinds of things to each other and now seemed even more inappropriate. So, she simply squeezed his arm.
He squeezed her back and handed her off to Theo, who was smiling down at her with a wink.
In that moment, she was sure that her nerves were all for naught. Here was the man she would marry and spend the rest of her life with. And she loved him. She was sure she did.
Theo took her hands in his, leaning toward her. He rubbed his thumb across the backs of her cold hands. “You look amazing.”
“So do you,” she whispered back.
The reverend cleared his throat. “We are gathered here today, in the sight of God and this good company to join together this man and this woman…”
As the reverend spoke, Isabella’s gaze strayed to the full chapel, to all the smiling faces watching her and Theo. Full of happiness and expectations that come with weddings. So many people she didn’t even know. Her mother’s political friends. Theo’s parents’ friends as well.
Breathe.
Reverend Mitchell was quipping on about their personal story, though she’d specifically told him she didn’t want any of that in the ceremony. She wanted it simple and straightforward.
“And I’m told that when Theodore met Isabella for the first time at a friend’s lake house in Granbury, he was smitten,” the reverend went on with a chuckle, “and he decided then and there that she would be his wife. So apparently, Isabella, you have your maid of honor to thank for this day.”
