Wife Wanted: Wives of Bravado County, #2

By Marie Patrick

Gabriel Wescott has waited years for the woman he loves to return from medical school, only for her to arrive in Possibility, Texas, with a husband and sister-in-law, Alexandra Gracen, in tow. Nursing his broken heart, he finds distraction in teasing the straight-laced, oh-so-proper Doctor Gracen, or Dr. Andi as he likes to call her. He's bound and determined to help her adjust to western life.

 

Doctor Alexandra Gracen is not sure what to think of the cowboy with the irresistible grin and unwavering good nature, but he is definitely different from any man she's had to put in his place before. For some reason, he insists on making her a part of the town, but her Bostonian ways are not an easy fit. Though she too blames her sister-in-law for his heartbreak, she's not about to let him distract her from her lifelong career.

 

As Gabe slowly cracks the shell of the good doctor, he finds beneath a woman with a soft heart and a passionate nature, who has always been married to her work first. She knows nothing about being a wife and mother, which is what he has always wanted in his life…or so he thought.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marie Patrick
• Release date: Mar 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223610649

Marie Patrick

Marie Patrick lives in beautiful, sunny Arizona, where inspiration to write historical romance is in every amazing sunset. Find Marie Patrick at MariePatrick.com and Facebook.com/pages/Marie-Patrick, or email her at [e-mail].

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Also by Marie Patrick

About the Author

WIFE WANTED by Marie Patrick

Copyright © 2024 by Marie Patrick

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced in whole or in part, scanned, photocopied, recorded, distributed in any printed or electronic form, or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without express written permission of the publisher, 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, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Book Cover and formatting by Bella Media Management

Printed in the United States of America for Worldwide Distribution

DEDICATION

To Lexi Post, talented critique partner and dear, dear friend, who keeps pushing me to ‘get those words down’;

To Paige Wood and Jan Walkosz, my wonderful beta readers, who always find what’s missing and help me make the story better;

To H.D. Thomson at Bella Media Management, for her patience and knowledge (and mind-reading abilities);

To my son and his lovely bride-to-be – thank you for the inspiration;

And to my husband, my real-life hero, whose support and belief in me has never wavered in all these years.

Thank you all!

CHAPTER ONE

Possibility, Texas

Autumn, 1868

GABRIEL WESCOTT SPURRED HIS MOUNT as he raced across Eternal Hope ranch and headed toward the little town of Possibility, Texas, his mouth stretched into a wide grin.

Beth Maitland had finally come home―he corrected himself―Doctor Beth Maitland.

Eight years she’d been gone. Eight long years. But there were letters. Dozens of letters, even during the War between the States when he’d been posted in Virginia first then Natchez. Beth had remained in Boston, still in school, learning, growing, becoming the doctor she’d always wanted to be. That had been her dream, despite the hardship and the loneliness of being away from home.

And she had accomplished what she’d set out to do, earning the right to call herself a doctor then practicing at the New England Hospital for Women and Children in Boston to gain experience.

He had encouraged her, though it meant being separated for even longer.

He’d been willing to wait for her. He’d had no choice. They’d grown up together, had been close friends for as long as he could remember, but that’s all they had been…until the very first time she stitched up a cut on his hand and wrapped it with a soft cloth, her touch gentle, her manner soothing. That’s when he fell in love with her. He’d been sixteen and she fourteen.

The first time he’d kissed her behind the stable on her parent’s ranch, he’d vowed he’d wait for her forever.

Now, she was home and setting up her practice in the old boarding house at the edge of town. The long wait to make her his wife was over.

Excitement rushed through him though the eagerness to see her was dampened by confusion that she’d been home almost a week and hadn’t sent him word. He’d only learned of her arrival late last night when her brother, Kellen, had mentioned it over their game of poker.

He thought about the last letter he’d received from her. It mentioned she was coming home, but not when. He assumed he would be the first person she told she was back in Possibility, aside from her family, so why hadn’t she? Had something changed?

He pushed Ranger harder, urging him over the fence that bordered the edge of Eternal Hope’s land. Once on the other side of the fence and on the road, he rounded the bend and galloped into Possibility proper, coming up to the old boarding house at the edge of town. The building hadn’t changed much in the years since it had been closed, except for the new coat of white paint shining in the deepening twilight. It would be Beth’s office now. His heart swelled with pride.

He brought Ranger to a halt at the hitching post outside the house then glanced at the bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. They were wilted now. Windblown. Half the petals were missing. He should have known they wouldn’t survive his trip to town, but he hadn’t been thinking about that. He’d only been thinking of his reunion with Beth and the future he saw so clearly in his mind.

Dismounting, he tossed the flowers aside. Lights from several lanterns blazed behind the lacey draperies hanging in front of the windows in what he remembered had once been a small ladies’ parlor and a dining room for the residents of the boarding house.

A shadow passed behind the draperies, the silhouette that of a woman as she moved between the two rooms.

He grinned.

Now, how to greet one’s future wife who’d become a doctor? He had an idea.

Mounting the steps, he strode across the porch then barged through the front door. I need a doctor! He melted to the floor in a dramatic swoon near the staircase that led to the second floor. His hat came off his head and settled next to him with a muffled thud.

Quick footsteps rushed to his side. He heard the sound of a bag dropping to the floor, accompanied by the soft rustling of petticoats as she knelt beside him. A warm hand settled on his forehead. Don’t worry. I’m here.

He stiffened. The voice drifting to his ears did not belong to Beth Maitland. Didn’t even belong to the great state of Texas. Where was the soft drawl he remembered so well? Had she been in Boston so long, she picked up on the accent so distinctive to that area? Was that the only thing about her that had changed? It had been eight long years since he’d seen her.

He opened one eye then sucked in his breath. Beth did not lean over him, her hand on his forehead. It was someone else. Someone he didn’t recognize at all―a woman with soft gray eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses and hair the color of fire scraped away from her face. The tail end of a long flamed-colored braid fell over her shoulder to tickle his cheek and the fresh scent of spring rain surrounded him. Gold and diamond earrings dangled from her earlobes, sparkling in the lamplight.

Startled, he opened his other eye and stated the obvious. You’re not Beth.

No, I’m not. She removed her hand from his forehead and sat back on her heels. Her lips pressed together as her eyes, framed in thick red-gold lashes, narrowed. And you don’t need a doctor.

He sat up, not the least bit uncomfortable at being caught faking a swoon and grinned in the face of her disapproval. No, I don’t. I thought I would surprise Beth. He scrambled to his feet then held out his hand to assist her. I’m Gabe Wescott.

She sized him up, her intense gaze roaming over his face, as she took his offered hand. A strange tingle, not unlike a spark of static electricity, crackled between them, as she gracefully rose to her feet.

What the hell? He’d never felt that before.

Whatever it was, she’d felt it, too. She drew in her breath sharply and her eyes widened just a bit before she recovered and slipped her hand from his. She cleared her throat. So you’re the infamous Gabriel Wescott. Beth has told me a great deal about you.

He chuckled. Please don’t let that color your judgment.

Too late. She didn’t smile. Indeed, there was no humor at all in her response. "Alexandra Gracen. Doctor Alexandra Gracen."

I hate to be the one to tell you this, darlin’, but this ain’t Boston. You’re in Possibility, Texas, now. We don’t stand on formality here. He took a step closer to her and tilted his head as he stared into her eyes. Alexandra’s a beautiful name, but it just doesn’t seem to suit you. You’re not an Alex though. Or an Ally. You’re not even a Sandy. The perfect name came to him. I think I’ll call you Andi.

She stiffened, obviously flustered, and took a step back. Don’t call me ‘darlin’. I’m not your ‘darlin’. And I’m not Andi, either. My name is Alexandra.

Yes. Yes, it is, but I like Andi better. And you should call me Gabe.

She bristled, her lips pressing together in a thin line, her eyes narrowing behind the lenses of her glasses once more as she repeated, My name is Alexandra. I prefer that you use it. Actually, I prefer that you refer to me as Doctor Gracen. I worked very hard to earn the right to call myself that.

He grinned at her. Couldn’t help himself actually. She was the opposite of Beth…serious and proper, so easily riled, he just couldn’t resist teasing her. He’d always heard red-headed women were quick to anger. Was she? Did her temper match the fire in her hair? And what would that look like? Already, her eyes were flashing a warning, one that he should probably heed, but didn’t. "Of course. Whatever you say…Doctor Andi."

A flush colored her cheeks, highlighting her cheekbones with splashes of pink, and her chest rose beneath the long-sleeved black gown she wore as she drew in her breath. He’d exasperated her in just a few short moments. A new record in his book. Mister Wescott—

Gabe.

Mister Wescott— She repeated then took another deep breath and let it out slowly, the line of ivory buttons from the dress’s neckline to the waistband capturing his attention. We’ve already concluded you don’t need a doctor, so how can I help you?

As I said, I was hoping to surprise Beth. He leaned down and picked up his hat then grabbed her leather satchel and handed it to her. Their fingers met over the handle and again, that strange prickling sensation sparked between them, rather pleasantly, and he looked at his hand then her, curiosity making him question his own sanity. Maybe, as a doctor, she had an explanation and it wasn’t unusual, though in his experience, he’d never felt that before.

She offered no reason for the strange tingle. Instead, her lips pressed together as she turned away from him quickly and placed her bag on a small table covered in a sheet. She isn’t here. She’s visiting her family, but I expect her back shortly.

Well, then, I’ll just wait.

Mister Wescott, I have—

He raised an eyebrow, amused. Gabe, remember.

A small furrow of frustration appeared between her brows. I have things to do and no time to entertain, Mr. Wescott. She glanced around the room and let out a sigh.

He followed her line of sight. Crates and boxes were spread throughout the former parlor amid buckets of paint and sheet-covered furniture that had been pushed toward the middle of the room. A ladder leaned against one of the walls. Seeing what she saw, he hoped she wasn’t doing all the work by herself. Let me help you. At least until Beth returns. I can be pretty handy with a hammer or paint brush. He looked through the newly installed open French doors into what used to be the men’s parlor opposite him. Now it had been turned into an office, and he noticed piles of books on the desk and a half empty bookshelf against the wall. I can finish putting those books away if you want.

I don’t think that will be necessary.

Oh, but I do. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you do all this work yourself? He placed his hat on the table then removed his jacket and placed it next to his hat. He rolled up his shirt sleeves as he stood in front of her. Remember, you’re in Possibility now. We help each other. That’s what we do.

Beth was right. You are persistent. If you insist on helping me, you can start by taking the lids off the crates in the dining—excuse me—examination room. She picked up a crowbar from the table and pointed to a row of wooden boxes against the freshly painted wall in the room beyond the parlor. Newly installed French doors were there, too, and stood wide open. If he remembered correctly, there had never been doors between the dining room—her new examination room—and the ladies’ parlor. It had always been just an open space. He liked the addition.

Yes, ma’am. Happy to. He took the crow bar then followed her into the room. How do you know Beth?

Mr. Wescott, if you’re going to ask me questions, then this isn’t going to work. I have things to do. We want to open our doors, so to speak, by Monday, which means we only have a few days to get everything in order. She let out a sigh as she wiped the dust from a glass-fronted cabinet. The workmen will be back tomorrow to finish painting and do a few other repairs. I’m expecting several more shipments of supplies to come in, and I have interviews lined up for a housekeeper, starting at nine tomorrow morning, so as you can probably tell, I don’t have time for idle chit-chat.

He hefted the crowbar, used the sharp end to slip beneath a crate’s lid and pried upward. The screech of nails coming loose echoed in the room. Can you not work and talk at the same time? I’ve always found that chores become a little easier when there’s good conversation.

Well, of course I can. What a silly question, she responded, her voice filled with irritation.

He put the crowbar down and removed the lid, resting it against the crate. So tell me, how do you know Beth?

For the longest time, he didn’t think she was going to answer as she began removing medical supplies from the crate and placed them in the glass-fronted cabinet. An exasperated sigh escaped her and she met his gaze for a brief moment. I met Beth her second day in Boston. She’d answered an advertisement for a room to let my Uncle Thaddeus had posted at the school. He’s a doctor, too. He knew how difficult it was to be on one’s own and how lonely it could be. She reached into the crate and extracted more items. Beth lived with us, as well as a few other students, all through her schooling and even after, when we both started working at the hospital. We became close friends. Closer than sisters in many respects.

He understood that all too well. His mother, Miz Sarah and Miz Daisy had been closer than many sisters he knew. Is that how you ended up here, in Possibility? He popped the lid on another crate, this one filled with more books.

She gave an elegant shrug, her shoulders moving ever so slightly. When Beth announced it was time to come home and open her practice here, she asked me if I wanted to partner with her.

So you came for the adventure.

She reached into the crate and pulled out a smaller box. The distinct sound of little bottles rattling against each other met his ears as she turned toward the cabinet. Over her shoulder, she said, I came to work, Mr. Wescott. As I said before, I studied very hard to become a doctor, and Beth always told me there was a need for our services here.

She’s right. There isn’t a doctor around here for miles. Most folks help each other when they’re sick otherwise they have to travel all the way to San Antonio or New Braunfels, so we’re glad to have you.

He opened a small trunk, brand new by the looks of it, expecting to see more medical supplies, but that’s not what met his eyes. Instead of bandages, he saw corsets and pantalettes and other unmentionables, all lace trimmed and decidedly feminine, which just didn’t seem to fit her or the tightly buttoned up dress she wore. It didn’t fit her no-nonsense attitude either. They must belong to Beth. She’d always loved frilly things like this. Even when she wore split skirts and button up shirts to work the ranch with her family, she always had something feminine—a lace trimmed handkerchief or fancy embroidered stockings, the ribbons visible in the small space between her boots and the hem of her split skirt.

His mouth widened into a grin as he pulled a frilly petticoat from the trunk and held it up. I don’t think this belongs with your medical supplies.

She turned toward him, her eyes widening as they took in the petticoat dangling from his fingertips. Instantly, color flushed her cheeks, and she took a step toward him, her body stiff with sudden anger. Mr. Wescott! Those are my personal things! I’ll thank you to keep your hands off them! She grabbed the petticoat from his hand and tossed it back into the trunk, slamming the lid closed. I think you should go.

He laughed. At least his questions had been answered. She did have a temper to match her red hair, and that just tickled him. Can’t. I haven’t seen Beth yet. He hefted the trunk, resting the majority of the weight on his shoulder. I’ll just bring this upstairs for you.

Her shoulders slumped, as if she knew this was an argument she just couldn’t win. I’m the first door to the left at the top of the stairs.

He left the examination room and took the stairs to the second floor, careful not to bump the trunk against the freshly painted walls. Opening the door, he stood in the entranceway for a moment. A single candle glowed on the bedside table, the flame protected by a glass chimney. Meager light spread into the room, but it was enough for him to see the feminine touches of lace and satin on the brass bed, as well as the sheer draperies that hung over the windows and the door leading outside to the second-story veranda. Her room seemed to be a contradiction to how she presented herself, just like her frilly undergarments and the fine cotton night gown spread across her pillow. Part of her was all starch and propriety. The other part, the woman beneath all that starch, was soft and very definitely female.

Perhaps, after being friends for so long, Beth had had an influence on her, as he fully expected Beth’s room to be the same.

He placed the trunk on the floor between the armoire and the dressing table and inhaled. The fresh scent of rain assailed his nose, though why, he couldn’t begin to fathom. It hadn’t rained in more than a week. He noticed perfume bottles on the dressing table and, though he shouldn’t, picked one up then removed the stopper, releasing the fragrance to his nose. A slight smile of appreciation came to his lips. Yes, that’s why he smelled that particular aroma.

He put the bottle down after taking another whiff, then looked toward his left, through an archway into another room. He strolled that way and peeked inside. She had created a nice little sitting room for herself complete with comfortable chairs and a chaise lounge, surrounding a small fireplace. A candle burned here as well, the light falling on several books on a table between two chairs. Curious, he moved closer and picked one up to look at the title and author. Lyrical Ballads by Wordsworth and Coleridge. He looked at the second book in the stack. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. A pale pink ribbon between the pages held her place. He picked up the last book. Pride and Prejudice, another by that same author. He smiled. The very prim and proper Doctor Andi had a romantic side to her as well.

There were plenty of single men in Possibility who would be extremely interested in her, as long as one of them wasn’t Sheriff Anson Beaudry, whose reputation as a Romeo was well known. The man became interested in every woman in town at one time or another. He frowned as the thought occurred to him, put the books back on the table and stepped into the hallway. Several doors were on either side of the corridor. Which one was Beth’s?

He listened, but no noise came from the floor below. Though it wasn’t the least bit appropriate, he strode down the hall and stopped at the next door and reached for the doorknob. He paused with his hand on the knob. A wave of guilt swept through him. He shouldn’t be invading someone else’s privacy, no matter how curious he was.

He removed his hand from the doorknob and headed downstairs, just in time to see Doctor Andi attempt to drag one of the smaller crates from the examining room into the former parlor. Her backside, covered in black bombazine, twitched as she grunted and tugged. He hurried his pace and came up beside her. I can do that for you. Please, let me help you.

She jumped, startled, then turned to face him. Perspiration dotted her forehead and her breath came in heavy huffs. That’s not necessary. I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.

He chuckled. She was just as persistent as he was, maybe even more so, with a little bit of stubbornness thrown in. She may have been used to doing everything by herself in the past, but that didn’t mean she had to. Not now. She wasn’t in Boston anymore. She was here. Perhaps she just needed reminding. You’re in Possibility now, Doctor Andi. If you need help, all you have to do is ask. As I said before, it’s what we do and who we are. Heavier than he assumed, he struggled to lift the book-filled box, but managed. Now, where would you like it?

She let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping a little in the face of his persistence. In the office. If you’ll just put it on one of the desks that would be fine.

He did as he was asked then paused to look out the window at the front of the house, pushing the sheer draperies aside as he did so. Doctor Andi had taken two of the lanterns while he was upstairs and placed them on the railing of the porch on either side of the front steps. Soft light flowed into the street, competing with the rising full moon.

He was just about to turn away when he heard the unmistakable sound of horse’s hooves coming up the road. A buggy stopped in front of the house a moment later, and a woman climbed down from the conveyance, the glow of the lanterns bathing her in golden light. She faced the house, her head lifting just a bit as her gaze scanned first the porch then the veranda on the second floor, the smile he remembered so well crossing her face.

Beth.

His heart beat a little quicker in his chest. She hadn’t changed. Not one bit. Older, yes, but still as beautiful as she’d always been.

She spoke to someone who still sat in the buggy, but the glow of lantern light didn’t quite reach into the shadows under the hood of the conveyance, and he couldn’t see who it was. One of her brothers? Her father?

He let the lacy curtain fall back into place then rushed outside, his footsteps heavy on the floorboards of the front porch. He didn’t bother taking the steps. Instead, he jumped to the ground and grabbed her in a hug, lifting her off her feet. Welcome home!

She let out a startled squeal, sounding very much like the girl he knew before she left Possibility, and her eyes drifted to his face. Gabe! she exclaimed then burst into laughter. I’m happy to see you, too, but you need to put me down.

He did. Reluctantly. Now that she was back in his arms, he didn’t ever want to let her go again.

Well, that’s quite the greeting.

Gabe glanced at the man climbing down from the buggy. He moved slowly, as if the action caused him pain. In the light spilling into the street, he could see it wasn’t one of her brothers or even her father, but a man he’d never seen before. Tall and slim, he carried himself proudly, like he’d been in the military. Who was he? And what was he doing driving Beth?

Gabe, I’d…ah…I’d like you to meet Matthew Gracen. She held out her hand to the man who limped around the buggy to stand next to her. My husband.

Your…husband? With those two words, his heart dropped…all the way to his left foot, it seemed, leaving an empty place in his chest. Gabe swallowed the sudden dryness in his throat.

He drew in his breath, though how, he didn’t know. His lungs had ceased to function. Still, he managed to hold out his hand to Beth’s husband. Mr. Gracen.

It’s Doctor actually, but since I no longer practice, Matthew would be fine. The man grasped his offered hand and shook. Beth has told me a great deal about you.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say she hadn’t mentioned a word about him, but he swallowed the words. His gaze drifted from Matthew to Beth.

She looked happy, her eyes aglow as they roamed over her husband’s face, a soft smile curving her mouth.

Why was she happy? She was supposed to be happy with him, not this strange man. They’d had an understanding. Didn’t they?

If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just bring the buggy down to MacLaren’s. Matthew held out his hand to shake once more. It was then that Gabe noticed how the man’s hand trembled slightly and scars from a burn covered a fair amount of his skin. He grasped the hand offered him but did so gently. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Gabe. I hope we’ll see more of you.

He didn’t know what to say. Possibility was