Brazos Bride Read Free Page B

He slowed his steps to match hers and she led him down a wide hall to the side of the house.
    After they entered the judge's study, she sank onto a cushioned chair by the hearth. “Would you close the door, please?”
    Micah complied then sat across from her.
    “ First, please allow me to tell you why I am here.” As if she shared his tension, she toyed with the folds of a silky skirt the color of spring lilacs. Her fingers made nervous little pleats in the fabric and then smoothed them out.
    "My friend Ramona, my aunt and uncle, and the doctor say I have the same sickness that took my mother's life, but I disagree to a point." Her gaze met his. “Someone has been poisoning me. I think whatever the killer used was put in my food or medicine for several months. But then, perhaps the same thing happened to my mother." She paused, breathing heavily from the exertion of talking.
    Micah raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think it’s poison?”
    “ Lying in bed all day, one has a lot of time to mull over things." She offered a sad smile. "But in case I only wished it to be poison instead of a fatal illness, I tested my theory.”
    “ You have proof?" He pushed down his anger at the idea of anyone evil enough to poison a fine lady like her.
    She shrugged. “Of sorts.” Pausing frequently to rest, she explained how she’d secretly tested her theory by replacing her food and medicine. Finally, she rested her head against the back of the chair and pressed her lips together. The little color left in her skin had faded to greenish-gray.
    Micah stood. "Are you all right? Shall I get Theresa?"
    "No, I must continue." She motioned for him to resume his seat. “Ah, where was I?” She took a deep breath, as if gathering in the energy to go on. “Each day afterward, I scraped my meals into a crock I had hidden in my room so it would look as if I had eaten, but I did not taste a bite except from my secret store of food. Soon all my symptoms lessened and a little of my strength returned.”
    She leaned forward and stared into his eyes. “Someone wants me dead.”
    “ Why?” Micah wanted to cradle her in his lap, protect her. She looked fragile, as if she could disappear in a puff of wind.
    “ You know my father left me a large estate, but I cannot control anything. Tio Jorge has complete control over my estate and over me. I am powerless until I turn twenty-five, unless I marry. Should I die before then, Tio Jorge inherits everything.”
    Micah hated her uncle. The harsh words the man had hurled at him on several occasions still stung. But not as much as the fact that he refused to honor the verbal agreement Micah had made with Hope's father the day before Alfredo Montoya’s murder.
    She continued, “I do not want to think it is him or my aunt, but each has the opportunity and my estate is motive enough.” She shrugged. “Or, perhaps it is someone else. My aunt let slip that my cattle disappear almost daily from rustlers.”
    “ Rustlers? Here?”
    “ Someone hates me enough to want me dead and my estate in ruin.” She closed her eyes and rested her head against the chair’s back.
    “ I haven’t heard talk of any rustling hereabouts, not even from Comanche renegades. Sure can’t imagine anyone hating you, but greed is a powerful motivator.” He fiddled with his hat brim until she opened her eyes. “What’s your plan?”
    “ It is over eight months until I turn twenty-five. Alone, I will not be able to withstand whoever is doing this for half that long. But if I were married, I would control my estate now and my husband would be my beneficiary instead of Tio Jorge."
    She paused and looked at him, then took a deep breath. "I believe this would give me time to find out who is behind this and to regain my strength.”
    “ May or may not remove you from danger.”
    “ True, and certainly a marriage would place my husband in danger.”
    Micah figured she was correct about her husband being a target if someone really