Patrick's Charm (The Bride Train, #2) by E.E. Burke

Author:E.E. Burke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mail-Order Brides, American Brides, Sweet romance, Western romance, historical romance
Publisher: E.E. Burke
Published: 2016-04-26T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

The following Saturday, Patrick’s hopes hit rock bottom before noon. He’d failed to convince Gilly’s brother to release his claim on the property. Even offering McGill a portion of the profits hadn’t worked. The scurvy dog said he’d just pay off what was owed on the loan, so the saloon would be his, too, and all the profit. To cap the climax, the railroad agent had a Closed sign on his door.

Patrick used his hands to block the light and peered through the window of the darkened land office. Hardt had been gone for several days. Didn’t matter. Patrick knew he would get the same response he’d gotten the last time he’d come by to plead his case.

“Come back when you’re married.”

Easier said than done. Not only had Charm rebuffed him, she seemed intent on ignoring him completely, except for when she wanted her take each night. She played to packed crowds, and she was right, he made more on drinks than he had ever made. He still didn’t have enough to pay off the building, or McGill, greedy bastard. Soon, Hardt’s decision would be made and it would be too late.

He had to convince Charm to marry him.

Patrick headed back to the saloon in time to open for lunch. He adjusted a hatbox under his arm. On a spur of the moment, he had stopped into the dry goods store to find a gift for her. Mr. Middaugh had suggested a new bonnet. Patrick hoped Charm liked the one he picked out. Might have too many flowers. He knew nothing about buying for women. Kathleen had dropped obvious hints about what she wanted. Charm never asked for anything.

A thunder of hooves caught his attention.

Wagons pulled over to make way for the cavalry patrol. Their mounts kicked up dirt and dust as they rode south, likely headed for the railroad construction route.

Outside the saloon, McLaughlin and three of his friends leaned against the wall, following the soldiers with narrowed eyes.

The army had managed to maintain a semblance of peace after putting down the riots that had reached their peak earlier in the year. But the vandalism continued, and three counties remained under martial law. Other than occasional harassment, the army hadn’t taken direct action against leaders of the militant Land League. But if the soldiers noticed four members of the organization hanging around the saloon, they might suspect something was going on.

On the other hand, McLaughlin and his friends weren’t doing anything wrong and they were customers. “Here for food or drink?” Patrick asked the men, as he unlocked the door.

He would fight for his rights, whether against McGill, the railroad or the U.S. Army. Battles, he understood. Women, not so much.

The four men filed in behind him. The last one shut the door.

Patrick turned, surprised. “What are you doing? I’m opening up.”

McLaughlin hooked his straw hat on a set of antlers. “We need a place to meet. You’re a member of the league. We figured you wouldn’t mind us using the saloon for a little while.

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