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Lone Star Bride
Jolene Navarro
An Unwanted MarriageSofia De Zavala wants to help her father run their family’s Texas ranch—but he has other ideas for her future. Faced with an arranged marriage, Sofia dresses as a boy and joins a cattle drive, determined to prove herself to her father. But her plan backfires when she’s forced to save her reputation by marrying trail boss Jackson McCreed.Jackson thought he was hiring a scrappy young boy—instead, the wary widower has landed his business partner’s feisty, headstrong daughter as his bride. He believes a marriage of convenience is the best they can hope for. But Sofia dares him to look to the future again…and find a love strong enough to lasso a lifetime of happiness.
An Unwanted Marriage
Sofia De Zavala wants to help her father run their family’s Texas ranch—but he has other ideas for her future. Faced with an arranged marriage, Sofia dresses as a boy and joins a cattle drive, determined to prove herself to her father. But her plan backfires when she’s forced to save her reputation by marrying trail boss Jackson McCreed.
Jackson thought he was hiring a scrappy young boy—instead, the wary widower has landed his business partner’s feisty, headstrong daughter as his bride. He believes a marriage of convenience is the best they can hope for. But Sofia dares him to look to the future again...and find a love strong enough to lasso a lifetime of happiness.
“He can’t make you marry me.”
“We might not have much choice if we want to have a chance at the dreams we both want.”
“All I want is to work on the ranch with my father, and you want to raise your horses.”
Jackson nodded, his jaw sore from the tension. “Despite you lying to me, we were friends, right?”
Sofia nodded.
“We talked about you working for me.”
“But that is different than getting married.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
That got her attention. Moving back, she wiped her face clear of the tears. “What do you mean?”
“We can treat it like a partnership. I didn’t plan on ever marrying again.”
“I know. I don’t want a husband.”
“Good. Because I don’t want a wife. We could just stay friends. Have our own rooms, our own lives.” He shrugged. “Just friends, business partners. But I’m not going to let your father force us into this. You have to agree.”
A seventh-generation Texan, JOLENE NAVARRO fills her life with family, faith and life’s beautiful messiness. She knows that as much as the world changes, people stay the same: vow-keepers and heartbreakers. Jolene married a vow-keeper who shows her holding hands never gets old. When not writing, Jolene teaches art to inner-city teens and hangs out with her own four almost-grown kids. Find Jolene on Facebook or her blog, jolenenavarrowriter.com (http://www.jolenenavarrowriter.com).
Lone Star Bride
Jolene Navarro
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Be still, and know that I am God.
—Psalms 46:10
Dedicated to my grandmother, Jo Ann Crawford. She gave me the spark to tell stories and to pass down stories from our own family. Thank you for inspiring me and allowing me to read all your Zane Grey books. This one is for you and the women in our family who made Texas their home before it was Texas.
Acknowledgments (#u7854eef5-f5fb-52de-90da-fc69d83141bb)
Some say that writing is a solitary endeavor, but I find I’m surrounded by many people who help me along the way.
First, to my amazing brainstorming team, Storm Navarro, Sasha Summers and Willa Blair and the SARA to SARA Sundays.
Special thanks to the family of the late historian W. T. Block. His article on the Opelousas Trail inspired my pirates on a cattle drive.
To editor extraordinaire Emily Rodmell. Thank you for your insight and eye for detail. To executive editor Tina James for giving Jackson and Sofia a home beyond my computer. I discovered them six years ago. That they are in the world is a dream come true.
To the most wonderful agent, Pam Hopkins, for being a mixture of kindness, support and honesty. Thank you.
Contents
Cover (#u9e942e59-c151-5237-8f18-3718fe7079f4)
Back Cover Text (#u6295f27d-fad9-528e-8979-a421e12a544f)
Introduction (#ue884ad59-1b71-5fe3-be72-f9fe59b4e474)
About the Author (#u3daa76e6-f588-531e-9d04-0e250cdd366f)
Title Page (#u17a7c4e3-dc58-5219-8bed-bd5818d0eef5)
Bible Verse (#ua0816e45-ffbd-5d60-a913-587d84487c0d)
Dedication (#u455be9a1-6f29-53ba-bcfa-72c5c02fcc25)
Acknowledgments (#uc56a161f-4558-529a-b086-8f6d6e72250d)
Chapter One (#ucb304f59-140a-5968-8453-8972b0f1d4ea)
Chapter Two (#u10a28541-92d3-58b0-8d51-6d83590b39fb)
Chapter Three (#u33f758d4-5c73-524a-ae5b-b7d584fd49b9)
Chapter Four (#u5081a7dc-142e-50a9-bcd9-39846d24718c)
Chapter Five (#udcdc1003-cee6-56d0-97a8-6425ec684f47)
Chapter Six (#ub4a55282-8e18-5f50-b487-ebbca760098a)
Chapter Seven (#u108dc32c-4683-5df7-aab0-65d3dba3f937)
Chapter Eight (#u2b5b66c3-8dd7-5047-9f2a-b5c026dabc62)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u7854eef5-f5fb-52de-90da-fc69d83141bb)
Blood raced through Sofia De Zavala’s veins as she stepped to the edge of the spacious veranda. The native stone floor kept the area cool in the Texas heat. It was only April, and the sun had already become a relentless rival to the numerous layers of material she wore. Wearing pants would be so much easier.
The sounds of the vaqueros and American cowboys filled the area near the horse barns.
Ignoring her father’s orders, she planned on going to the stables today. Rumors of a new stallion that had come all the way from Ireland were impossible to ignore.
“Señorita Sofia, wait!” Her mother’s maid ran after her. “I have your bonnet and gloves.”
Not wanting to upset the older woman, she bit back a sigh. “I left them behind on purpose.” Rosita went ahead with her mission and started pulling the long white gloves onto Sofia’s hands. “These will be ruined.”
“Your mother never allowed you to leave the house without them.” The large overly decorated bonnet went on next. Tears hovered on the edges of the maid’s russet eyes. “I can’t believe they are gone.”
“I know.” She still expected to hear her mother’s voice in the house. A voice that she took for granted and now dearly missed. “We all miss her, but I can’t see as well with the bonnet on. It completely blocks my side view.” What she wanted was a flat wide-brimmed hat like the men wore. If it wouldn’t upset her father so much, she’d go get one of her brother’s hats.
Her father still refused to talk about their loss, and Rosita cried at the mention of her mother. There was no place for her own grief to be shared.
Head high, more so in order to see in front of her than pride, Sofia hurried to the pens.
There were more people than she had ever seen at the corrals. Many of the women who lived on the ranch stood on the railing, watching the activity that stirred the dust. She loved being around the horses and had missed them.
On most of the ranches she had visited with her father, there were women working alongside the vaqueros, but her mother had believed that women belonged in the home. So, on their ranch, the men worked the livestock, and the women stayed inside.
This was her chance to change that for the De Zavala ranch and her people.
Her gloves immediately lost their whiteness when she grabbed the top of the wood fence and stepped up.
As she looked over the railing, she felt as if her heart and lungs stopped working. The most magnificent animal she had ever seen loped on the opposite side of the corral. Tucking his tail, he stopped and turned in one quick motion.
The glossy black coat lay over sculpted muscles. Long solid legs covered the ground in fluid motion. The stallion tossed his head, sending his mane flying in the breeze.
She was in love. “He’s gorgeous.”
Maria, Rosita’s granddaughter, leaned in close to her. “They say he’s from Kentucky.” The younger woman sighed. “I’ve never seen anything like him.”
“Kentucky? I thought he was from Ireland.” Maria had never shown an interest in horses before. Frowning, Sofia turned her head to get a better look at the man working the horse. Oh, my.
He stood a head above any of her father’s men. Booted feet planted in a wide stance, he held his right arm out, commanding the horse without a lunge line or whip.
It was more than just his height that made it obvious he was not one of her father’s men. Without a hat, his hair was tousled. Streaks of wheat ran through his sandy-brown locks. She had never been so fascinated by a man’s hairstyle or color.
Now she understood why all the females loitered around the horse pen. Not many visitors made it out to the ranch, and never men of this caliber.
The clothes he wore didn’t help, either. No baggy trousers or loose shirt like many of her father’s workers. He wore a black fitted vest over a white button-up that showed off a trim middle and long legs. Not a sound came from his mouth as he communicated with the horse.
How was he getting the stallion to move the way he wanted? Narrowing her gaze, Sofia focused on the man’s movements. The man slightly flicked his fingers, and the horse stopped and spun to face him.
Head lowered, the big black beast walked forward and set his forelock against the man’s broad chest. Nimble fingers rubbed the big jaw. All the women sighed as one.
Sofia glanced at the men surrounding the corral, many of them sitting on the top rail. Admiration was visible on the faces of the vaqueros, people she considered the best horsemen in the world.
A hand clasped on her shoulder. “Mija, what are you doing? It’s too hot and dusty out here for you.”
Her father’s quiet voice startled her from the sight of horse and man. “Papi, I wanted to see the new horse. I hear he’s from Ireland. Why didn’t you tell me about him?” She glanced back to the cowboy.
“There is nothing to tell. It’s business between Jackson McCreed and myself.”
“But I love these horses. You allowed me to ride all over the ra—”
“That was years ago. Now you have house responsibilities and should be preparing for your marriage.”
It was as though a mule had delivered a kick to her gut, almost had her doubling over. Marriage?
“I thought with the new Texas Republic, our contracts with Mexico were canceled?” This couldn’t be happening. She had escaped the arrangement her mother set up. Her dreams had nothing to do with being the perfect wife.
“Yes, we have severed our ties to the old country, but to secure our future and legacy, we need connections to the new government. We could still lose our land grants.” His jaw flexed as he looked over his people who had gathered to watch the new stallion.
