Fortune's June Bride

Chapter Two

Aurora didn’t have to work too hard to look dismayed as she fended off Frank’s advances when he pulled her unwillingly toward the wooden stage at the end of Main Street, where a preacher paced back and forth in front of the old west building facade of a bank, a boardinghouse and a feed store. Frank had been making advances toward her for the past two weeks—ever since he’d joined the cast—and didn’t seem to take the hint that she wasn’t interested.

“I don’t want to marry you,” she cried out loudly for the crowd who’d been following them along Main Street as her trials and tribulations were extolled. “I love Rusty. He’d never desert me like you claim!”

Frank pulled her close, his leer exaggerated for the audience. “He’s gone off to Dodge City, my dear.” He twirled his mustache for added effect. “He’s never going to come back. Your only hope to save your departed daddy’s land from the railroad—”

The crowd booed on cue.

“—is to marry me!” He swept her off her feet, carrying her, kicking and struggling, up the steps and onto the stage. “That’s it, Preacher Man,” he boomed and set her on her feet. “Get us wedded and hurry up about it.”

Behind them, the onlookers sent up a cheer as horse hooves pounded audibly down Main Street, accompanied by the triumphant music swelling over the loudspeakers.

Lila tried to pull away from Frank, but he held her arm fast.

“Dearly beloved,” Preacher Man started off in a quaking voice. “We are gathered—”

“Get on to the vows,” Frank demanded, looking nervously over his shoulder.

Preacher Man gulped. “Do you, sir, take this, ah—”

“Lila,” Frank growled loudly. He pulled out his pistol and waved it, and a sharp crack! rent the air. Down the facade in front of the feed store, a bag of seed exploded. “Hurry it along, Preacher Man, or the next one goes in you.”

Preacher Man’s eyes widened. “Take Lila, to be your wife—” His fast words practically fell on top of each other.

“I do,” Frank yelled, “and she does—”

“Not!” Rusty had vaulted from his horse and stormed up onto the stage, sweeping Lila away from Frank. “She’ll never be your wife, Frank. No more than that land’ll ever be yours.” He pulled the deed from inside his shirt and waved it in the air. “They’re both mine, and I’ll never let either one go!”

“Oh, Rusty.” Lila nearly swooned as the audience hooted. Aurora caught the faint grin on Galen’s face before he turned to take on the villain of the piece, and felt a little bit swoonish inside for real.

She’d gotten over her schoolgirl crush on him ages ago, but Galen Fortune Jones was still the kind of man that could make a girl’s heart stutter.

She clasped her hands together over her breast, crying out as Frank aimed his pistol at Rusty’s chest.

But Lila’s white-hatted hero fought off the hand holding the gun and swung his fist into Frank’s chin, knocking him comically right off the stage where he fell ignominiously on his butt in a pile of fake horse poop.

Sal the Sheriff and his men stood over Frank and his goons, whom he and Rusty had already dispatched, looking satisfied at the turn of events.

She waited until the cheers died down slightly. “I knew you’d save me, Rusty!”

“I’ll always save you, Lila.” Galen’s voice was deep and loud and definitely heroic as he tossed the “deed” to the sheriff, who caught it handily. “Will you finally be my wife?”

She fanned herself, simpering. “You know I will, Rusty.”

They turned to Preacher Man, who stopped gaping comically at Frank and flipped open his oversize Bible again. “Dearly beloved,” he began again.

“I do,” Lila burst out. “And he does, too!”

The audience laughed and Preacher Man held out his hands as if to say, what could he do? “Then I now pronounce you husband and—”

Galen swept off his hat with one hand and grabbed her around the waist with his other. “Wife,” he finished loudly, then bent her deep over his arm, while she buried her face against his chest.

“Am I s’posed to kiss you for real?” Galen whispered in her ear as the crowd cheered and the music crescendoed from the loudspeakers to its triumphant conclusion.

Something inside Aurora’s tummy fluttered. The way Galen held her, nobody beyond the stage would be able to see that Rusty and Lila weren’t actually locking lips. She shook her cheek against his, though she wished he hadn’t asked. That he would have just gone ahead and done it.

It was as close as she’d ever get to actually kissing the man for real, that was for certain.

Sal the Sheriff and his men pulled Frank from the horse manure and clapped him in chains before leading him and his goons off at rubber gunpoint through the audience.

As they did after every show, the onlookers dispersed quickly, anxious to get to the next attraction. The next cotton candy. The next roller coaster.

She didn’t mind the quick loss of attention.

She was just happy to be part of a show again. Playing Lila in Wild West Wedding was a far cry from the acting career she’d once dreamed of having, but for a rancher’s daughter who spent day in and day out helping her father, it was more than she’d thought she’d ever have.

And being held in a close embrace against a seriously handsome cowboy wasn’t anything to sneeze at, either.

Feeling breathless inside, Aurora patted Galen’s shoulders. “You can let me go now,” she whispered. It was safe to break character, because the mics were cued to be killed at Rusty’s last word, “wife.”

“Yeah. Right.” Galen straightened, letting her loose. All around them, people were streaming away from the stage, calling out smart remarks and still clapping.

She beamed at them and tucked her arm through Rusty’s, clinging to him as they and Preacher Man left the stage and strolled in the opposite direction from where Frank had been taken by the sheriff to the jail across the street. As long as any of the cast members were in costume out in the public areas of the park, they remained in character.

Over the loudspeaker, the music had softened to a background melody of “Yellow Rose of Texas.”

When they passed through a gate once more to the backstage area, though, she forced herself to let go of Galen’s arm. “You did a good job,” she said, slipping past him. “Didn’t he make a good Rusty, Harlan?”

“Hell,” Galen said, stopping short. He peered at Preacher Man’s face. “I didn’t even notice that was you, Mayor.”

Harlan Osgood grinned, pulling off his bottle-glass round spectacles and the fake gold caps on his front teeth. “Got myself a helper at the barbershop these days,” he said. “Been having some fun doing this a few times a day.”

“Harlan switches off with Buddy Jepps playing Preacher Man,” Aurora provided. She pulled off the veil and microphone, then the hairpiece she wore over her own pinned-up hair, and saw Galen’s look.

She laughed a little awkwardly, holding up the thick fall of ringlets that perfectly matched her own dark red hair. “My hair is straight as a stick. It would take hours to curl like this. And pretty as this is,” she held out one side of her skirt and gave a quick curtsy, “it’s about as comfortable as a straitjacket. So I’m going to change.” She headed toward the costume trailer, leaving the two men still talking.

The corseted wedding dress wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as she’d made out.

But she had no intention of admitting that she was finding it a tad difficult to breathe normally after being clasped up against Galen.

Being held by Frank was a requirement of the role she was playing.

Being held by Galen Fortune Jones was something entirely different...

She left her veil and microphone out so the production crew could reset them in the buckboard for the next show, then stepped behind the changing screen to peel down the hidden zipper in the side of the old-fashioned-looking dress. She hung it on the hanger and tucked it, as well as her boots, away in the corner of the wardrobe trailer she’d purloined for her own use. Then, changed once more into her own knee-length sundress and cowboy boots so she’d be free to move throughout the park until the next show, she left the trailer again.

Galen was still talking to Harlan, and his dark brown eyes crinkled a little as she approached them.

Her gauzy white tiered dress wasn’t at all confining, but she still felt a constriction in her chest when he looked her way.

It was a little annoying, actually. And embarrassing.

Because if Galen had been at all interested in her ever, he’d have had ample opportunity to do something about it. It wasn’t as if they lived on opposite ends of the planet, after all. A corner of her daddy’s ranch bordered his daddy’s, and she’d spent nearly all thirty years of her wholly single life living there.

Which was vaguely depressing, when she really thought about it.

Thirty years old.

She wouldn’t say she’d never been kissed, because she had. She’d even been in love until he’d been stolen away from her. But that time with Anthony Tyson had been years and years ago, back during the days when she’d still had dreams in her eyes about a life that held something more than cows, cows, and more cows.

And certainly more than little ol’ Horseback Hollow.

But life, at least Aurora’s, was about more than dreams. It was about loving her family and hard work and trying to replace a brother who was never coming back.

She added some briskness to her pace. “I’m going to head over to casting and see how they’re coming along on replacing Joey,” she said when she reached the two men. All around them, the performers for the next show, The Great Main Street Bank Heist, were beginning to arrive and the backstage area was becoming increasingly noisy.

“I should probably get back into my own stuff first,” Galen said, plucking the shirt.

She nodded. “Thanks again for pinch-hitting on such short notice.”

She still could hardly believe that he had. But then, she still had a hard time believing that he was helping out at Cowboy Country at all, considering that—like a good number of Horseback Hollow residents—at first he hadn’t even been a proponent of the theme park opening.

Tall, dark and swoonworthy he might be. But Galen Fortune Jones had ranching in his roots and ranching in his blood. And he’d never made any secret that he liked their little town just fine the way it was. He didn’t want to see outsiders and fat wallets coming in and gentrifying things.

She, however, had been practically champing at the bit to get her name added to the list of supporters. And as soon as she’d discovered that Moore Entertainment wanted to hire as many local performers as it could for the live entertainment at Cowboy Country, she’d hustled her tush right into line.

Yes, Wild West Wedding was as campy as it got. But in the two weeks since they’d opened, the guests had been enjoying it, and so was she.

“If you hold up a sec, I’ll walk with you,” Galen offered, surprising the heck out of her.

She realized she was twisting one toe of her prized Castleton boots into the dirt and made herself stop. “Sure.”

He smiled and strode away toward the trailer, all long legs and brawny shoulders.

“How’s your mama and daddy doing, Aurora? Haven’t seen Walt and Pru in months, it seems.”

Glad for the distraction, she smiled back at Harlan. “Real fine, Harlan. They’re going on a cruise, actually. To Alaska. They leave week after next.”

The mayor-slash-barber beamed at her. “That’s good news. I can’t remember a time when your folks ever went off on a real vacation. Not since—” He broke off and his smile turned a little awkward. “Not in a long time,” he amended. He patted her shoulder like a benevolent old uncle. “Be sure and give ’em my best, will you?”

“I will.” If her daddy hadn’t been bald as a cue ball and her mama hadn’t always cut her own hair, they’d have spent a little time in the Cuttery, the barbershop/salon where Harlan usually spent most of his time when he wasn’t acting as mayor, or playacting as Preacher Man.

Harlan headed off and Galen returned, wearing his own shirt and usual hat. On him, the black hat wasn’t the least bit villainous. It was just authentic.

“You even wore a cowboy hat back in high school, didn’t you?” she said aloud.

“Huh?” His fingertips lightly touched her back as they set off for the closest gate.

Her cheeks felt warm, but it was nothing compared to the shiver spiraling down her spine. “Nothing. Just thinking that Cowboy Country did a good job choosing you to make sure all things cowboy around here are actually believable.”

He grimaced, looking self-conscious. “It’s extra money in the bank,” he muttered. They’d reached the gate and he pulled it open for her, waiting for her to walk through first. “Every smart rancher knows it’s good to set some aside for leaner times.”

She watched him from the corner of her eye. “Your spread’s doing okay, though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He stopped outside Gus’s General Store where a selection of leather goods was on display. “My mom would like this,” he said, lifting a leather purse. But when he looked at the price tag, his eyebrows shot up. “Holy Chr—” He bit off the rest. “Even with all the Fortune money she refused to take from her newfound brother, that’s a ridiculous price.” Shaking his head, he dropped the purse back in place and continued down the boardwalk fronting the stores, the heels of his boots ringing out.

“I’ve heard a little about that,” Aurora said, skipping a few times to keep up with his long-legged pace. “Mostly that Jeanne Marie found out she’s twin sisters to British royalty?”

“She’s one of triplets,” he corrected. “Lady Josephine Chesterfield and James Marshall Fortune. Separated when they were babies. Josephine grew up in England. James in Atlanta. Mom here. Their birth mother only gave up the girls.”

She made a face. “I’m sure there’s a reason, but that sounds terrible.”

“She’s dead. It was only ’cause James started looking that they know anything about each other at all.”

“What’s it feel like finding out that you have scads of family across the world that you never even knew existed?”

“Pretty much the same way it felt not knowing they existed. I know it’s been important to my mom finding out about her birth family. The fact that both Josephine and James and their other brother, John, are all loaded is beside the point. But to me, it just means more cousins around the dinner table.” He gave her a sideways look. “You’re not one of those folks who got all het up about the royalty thing, are you?”

She shrugged and shook her head, even though it was a lie. She’d been just as fascinated as every other person in Horseback Hollow when their one-horse town first brushed up against royalty. “I ran into Quinn and Amelia Drummond the other day outside of the Hollows Cantina. They had little Clementine Rose with them. She’s a doll.”

“I guess so. Haven’t given the baby much thought.”

She tsked. “Just like a man.”

“What?” He frowned. “I know my new cousin had her in January. And I know things sure got interesting around these parts last year when the media found out Lady Amelia was pregnant.”

That was certainly true. A person hadn’t been able to get through town without running into one of the reporters camping out everywhere trying to get a shot of Lady Amelia and her rancher lover.

“Besides that,” he continued, “it’s like I said. Another person around the dinner table.” He shot her a grin. “Only the little munchkin is sitting in a high chair with strained peas all over her face.”

She smiled. “Still, I’d think it would feel pretty strange,” she said.

“Ending up with a passel of cousins?”

“Finding out I have more family than just Mama and Daddy.”

Galen shot her another glance. His grin died. “I still think about your brother,” he said quietly. “About Mark.”

“Me, too.” She was glad they’d reached the end of the block and gestured. “Casting is back this way.” She turned the corner and walked even more quickly down the street. She didn’t want to talk about Mark. Didn’t want to think about him, actually.

Maybe that made her the worst sister in the history of the world, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to forgive her big brother for dying the way he had. For leaving her parents so broken it had taken them a decade before they were managing to find a little joy in life again.

In silence, she passed the Olde Tyme Photography studio, where guests could dress up in vintage clothing to have their portraits done, and went through another wooden gate, this one manned by a uniformed security guard.

“Afternoon, Tom,” she greeted as they passed from the nineteenth-century cowboy town back into the very modern present of steel and glass and asphalt.

Thanks to the park’s clever designers, neither the stark building housing Cowboy Country’s business offices nor the large employee parking lot were visible to Cowboy Country guests.

Excruciatingly aware of Galen following close on her heels, she went inside the office building and made her way back to the casting office.

“Hi, Diane,” she greeted the sleek, black-haired young woman sitting at the main desk in front of a half dozen hard chairs, most of which were occupied by people clutching comp cards in one hand and job applications in the other. “Have you gotten any word yet on how Joey Newsome is doing?”

Diane shook her head, barely looking at Aurora because she was too busy visually devouring Galen. “Who are you?” she asked in her throaty voice.

“Cowboy Country’s authenticity consultant. Galen Fortune Jones,” Aurora said abruptly. In her dealings with the casting department so far, she knew that Diane used to work at a modeling agency located in Chicago, where Moore Entertainment’s corporate headquarters was located.

Undoubtedly, the woman was stripping Galen down in her mind to chaps and nothing else.

Then Aurora wished she’d left off the “Fortune” part, because Diane’s eyes seemed to grow even more interested, if such a feat were possible.

“Galen Fortune Jones,” she purred, rising slowly from her desk, putting Aurora in mind of a cobra rising from her nest. “I’ve been learning lots about the Fortunes.” She actually put her slender hand on Galen’s shoulder and circled around him, giving every inch of him a closer look.

And while it made Aurora’s nerves itch as though they’d been dipped into fire ants, he didn’t seem to be bothered one little bit.

“I’m more Jones than Fortune,” he drawled. He’d removed his cowboy hat the second they’d entered the building, and he gave Diane the same crooked smile that used to have cheerleaders and bookworms alike swooning back when Aurora was a high school freshman and he and her brother were the senior football stars. “Haven’t seen you around Horseback Hollow. I’d have remembered if I had.”

Diane laughed, low in her throat. “I drive over from Vicker’s Corners,” she said, as if doing anything else was insane. “Offers a little more civilization for my tastes.”

Aurora hid a sudden smile, for there was nothing more certain to turn off Galen Jones than to compare Horseback Hollow unfavorably against its nearest neighbor, Vicker’s Corners.

“Well,” Galen settled his hat back in place, even though they were indoors. “Always have said there is no accountin’ for taste.” His easy tone took the insult out of the words, even though Aurora was certain he meant each one. Then he looked at Aurora. “I’d better head back out there. I’ve only got a few more hours before I need to get back to my place. I’ve got chores piling up by the minute and I don’t have anyone to help me around the place right now like your daddy has you.”

“Okay.” She rubbed her hands down the sides of her dress, wishing she had even a tenth of Diane’s confidence. “Thanks again for helping out today.” She glanced at the other woman. “He filled in for Joey so we didn’t have to cancel the show.”

Diane’s red lips curved. “The hero rides to the rescue in more ways than one.”

Galen looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, well.” He glanced at the applicants sitting in the chairs who’d been following their exchange like viewers at a tennis match. “See you around, Aurora.” He pulled open the office door. “Might grab a root beer at the Foaming Barrel later if you’re interested.”

She had to struggle not to look surprised, much less too interested. “Sure.”

But the door was already swinging shut after his departure.

“That was a fine specimen of cowboy,” Diane breathed.

Aurora couldn’t get overly annoyed with the other woman for that, since she happened to agree.

But oohing and ahhing over Galen Jones hadn’t gotten her anywhere when she’d been fourteen to his eighteen, and it wasn’t going to get her anywhere now.

“So,” she addressed Diane once more, “about Joey’s part. Any chance you can find a temporary replacement for the rest of the shows today?”

The one guy sitting in the chairs perked up visibly.

Aurora could have told him not to bother. “Rusty” was written for a specific physical type and the hopeful applicant was about half the size he needed to be.

Diane returned to her desk and flipped open a folder. “I’ve been through all the performers on file.” With Galen out of the room, she was all business. “We’ve got two who fit the type, but neither can ride a horse.” She shook her head a little. “Casting shows for Coaster World’s other locations is a lot easier than casting here,” she murmured, tapping the end of her pen against the desk. She glanced at Aurora. “You can dance, right? Tap, ballet, that sort of thing?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere. “Yes.” She’d listed all of her skills on her application months earlier, well before Cowboy Country had opened to the public, even though they’d been learned as a little girl taking lessons over in Vicker’s Corners. She’d also listed the few college parts she’d been able to play before she’d had to leave school after Mark died. “So, about Rusty’s part?”

Diane lifted her shoulders and tossed down the pen. “If Joey’s not back in the saddle tomorrow or the next day, it’s possible we can bring in someone from another location,” she said. “But that’ll take some time.”