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The Daddy List
Dewanna Pace
A Substitute HusbandDiscovering her daughter is holding bank patrons hostage to interview daddy candidates sends widow Daisy Trumbo running to intervene. But when real bank robbers take advantage of the fake stickup, the hero of the day is Bass Parker–the man Daisy blames for her husband's death. Yet duty compels her to care for him as he recovwers from his injuries.Bass is determined to make amends to the widow and child of the fallen soldier who took his place on the battlefield. But he slowly finds himself feeling more than obligation to this independent woman and her spirited little girl. Their happiness hinges on Daisy's forgiveness, but can she let go of the past?
A Substitute Husband
Discovering her daughter is holding bank patrons hostage to interview daddy candidates sends widow Daisy Trumbo running to intervene. But when real bank robbers take advantage of the fake stickup, the hero of the day is Bass Parker—the man Daisy blames for her husband’s death. Yet duty compels her to care for him as he recovwers from his injuries.
Bass is determined to make amends to the widow and child of the fallen soldier who took his place on the battlefield. But he slowly finds himself feeling more than obligation to this independent woman and her spirited little girl. Their happiness hinges on Daisy’s forgiveness, but can she let go of the past?
Daisy smiled, happy that Bass was pleased.
Ollie moved past him and apologized. “Sorry, Bass. I must’ve left the back door open this morning. Only way Butler coulda got in the kitchen. I’ll make sure he don’t cause ya no more problems. ’Least for today.”
“I’m grateful it was only a goat. I heard somebody downstairs and thought I’d better check since I assumed I was still alone. But I couldn’t get down here fast enough to stop the initial damage. As you can see, he fought hard in the parlor until I got him roped and cornered behind the table.”
Bass brushed a hand through his dark hair, powdering it with even more flour. “But it was worth it, getting to hear your mama laugh like that.”
“You laugh pretty well yourself.” Daisy returned the compliment as his eyes studied her directly.
“That’s on my daddy list. Likes to laugh,” Ollie reminded. “Ya remember, don’tcha, Mama?”
“Yes, love. I remember.” Able to look Mama straight in the eye was on there, too.
Bass was beginning to qualify for a lot of the list’s requirements.
And Daisy wasn’t sure if she was prepared for that.
She wanted him gone, didn’t she?
* * *
“If I could only read one author this year
it would be DeWanna Pace.
Her stories always manage to touch my heart…”
—New York Times and USA TODAY
Bestselling Author Jodi Thomas
DEWANNA PACE is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author who lives in Texas with her husband and pets. She has published two dozen novels and anthologies, several of which have been chosen as book-club selections by Doubleday, Rhapsody, Book-of-the-Month, Woman’s Day and The Literary Guild. DeWanna combines her faith with her love of humor and historical romance. Let her show you the ways a heart can love.
The Daddy List
DeWanna Pace
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
In all thy ways acknowledge Him
and He shall direct thy paths.
—Proverbs 3:6
This book is dedicated to:
Jodi Thomas, Linda Broday, Phyliss Miranda and Gail Fortune.
Thanks for the years, the tears and the persistence that made this dream come true.
Most of all, thank the Lord for leading me to Shana Asaro and the crew at Love Inspired Books.
I’ll forever feel blessed.
Contents
Cover (#u730cebfc-5c33-55aa-82c5-c03a2e689e83)
Back Cover Text (#u7686a621-41b3-58f1-b73f-213123714464)
Introduction (#ue6f01005-0ace-5339-88ce-b47497322eeb)
About the Author (#u5089fdbb-734f-5af3-bdfe-9949fd528d49)
Title Page (#u8dba0e84-1962-5c31-85fc-e1c123a03135)
Praise (#ua3429a0b-67d0-50ab-8779-23d998eac3c6)
Dedication (#uff8ab4f2-89f2-5568-99d4-0bc1ce988b7f)
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
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dear Reader
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u3d80d5a6-574f-5e96-8a55-a177bc3f59e6)
Spring, 1868
Keeping her promise would wear Daisy Trumbo out before this was all over with, but keep it she would. With long strides she hurried down the planked sidewalk that led from the mercantile, where she’d been stocking up on supplies. According to a handful of outraged citizens, her seven-year-old daughter was over at the bank holding men hostage with a gun.
Daisy had agreed to consider every man her child chose to interview in the quest to gain a new father, but holding them prisoner until each passed or failed inspection was simply taking her newfound mission too far.
Where in this wild stretch of Texas had Ollie gotten her hands on a gun?
Daisy broke into a run, the hem of her skirt threatening to tangle with her long legs. If she managed to trip she’d leave these widow’s weeds in the dust so fast she’d show up in nothing but her bloomers. That would give her neighbors something to talk about.
She reached her destination without mishap. From the number of horses hitched outside the establishment, the banker had an unusual amount of customers this morning. Saturday often brought cowhands into town to collect their pay and waste it in the saloons. She’d been so busy at the mercantile she hadn’t noticed if the overland stage had already arrived and brought in more visitors to High Plains. Just how many hostages were involved? she wondered.
“Protect my child from herself, Lord,” Daisy whispered as she forced down panic. No need to burst through the door and startle anyone. That might get someone hurt. Instead, Daisy dusted her skirt, adjusted her bonnet and squarely braced her shoulders for the trouble ahead. Her fingers shook as she reached for the doorknob.
She was tall enough to see above the curtains that covered the door and front windows. From the sight of raised palms, her daughter still had the weapon aimed at somebody.
Please make these men the forgiving sort, Daisy prayed.
“Hand that gun to the banker immediately, Olivia Jane Trumbo,” she ordered, opening the door, “or you’re going to get a good talking-to all the way ho—” She stumbled as the door swung open faster than she had pushed it.
A dark-haired, blue-eyed woman stood there, blocking Daisy’s way and flicking open a lace fan held in one hand. Two more steps corrected the awkward momentum that almost spilled Daisy, giving her a whiff of fragrance that smelled like a spring breeze dancing through a meadow of wildflowers. A pleasant surprise amid the stuffiness of too many warm bodies gathered in one place.
“Your name, please?” asked the lady in a cultured voice sounding younger than her appearance. Dressed in a tea gown the blue of her eyes, her hair swept up in some fancy do, she seemed overdressed for a simple visit to the bank. “That little hoodlum told me not to let anyone in here but her mother.”
“That would be me,” Daisy informed her, wishing she had taken a little more time with her appearance this morning, “and she’s no hoodlum. Olivia just sometimes goes about things different from most folks.”
This was as much her fault as Ollie’s. She’d wanted Ollie to be older before she learned about the death of her father, but Ollie had started asking questions about Knox several months ago. Someone had obviously opened the subject of his death up for discussion. Her child finally asked why she still wore widow’s weeds since Old Miz Jenkins said the proper mourning period should be only two years, not three. Daisy simply replied that the material was still sturdy and they didn’t need to be wasteful.
Since finding out about her daddy, Ollie had a burr under her saddle, insisting she didn’t want to be hugged on too much. Daisy tended to give her daughter time on her own so she wouldn’t feel overprotected or smothered with attention. Too much time this morning had allowed the seven-year-old to get her hands on a gun and arrive at this crazy hostage scheme.
“Olivia Jane, where did you get that gun?” Daisy demanded.
“Better step aside and let her in,” Ollie warned, nodding her honey-colored head. “She used my gettin’-in-trouble name.”
Daisy moved past the beautiful lady and around some baggage next to the door.
“Did you say her last name is Trumbo? Were the two of you related to Knox Trumbo?” asked the stern-faced man who stood by himself to the left of the teller’s cage. He started to edge closer, his forehead furrowed as his gaze swept Daisy from hem to bonnet.
On a different day, she might have taken the time to study him closer, admiring his good grooming and such, but all she could do was concentrate on reaching her daughter’s side rather than answering him.
“They’re his widow and child,” informed the banker behind the teller’s cage. “Daisy and Olivia.”
Ollie waved the gun at the woman with the fan. “Don’t move any closer, mister, or I might accidentally hurt your lady friend here. It won’t take Mama but a minute to make up her mind about all you fellas then I’ll let’cha go. If she likes you, you can talk to her plenty in a minute.”
The seven-year-old’s head rose then fell as she took in the sight of him from hat to boot tip. “She’s got a real fondness for clean people, though. I should know. I got dirty bathwater to prove it all the time.” Ollie nodded toward the cowboys standing to the right of the cage. “And since you’re the only fella wearing Sunday clean, ’cept Sam, you got a pretty good chance out of all of ya to get on my list. Sam don’t count, though. He’s the banker. He’s got to dress good.”
Daisy cringed at her daughter’s outspokenness.
The clean-looking man didn’t back up the few steps he’d gained but seemed willing to wait her out. Cautious, Daisy decided. A wise man.
“Take a quick look, Mama, then I’ll be ready for some sense.” Ollie’s gaze locked with Daisy’s and confirmed that she understood totally the kind of talking-to she was about to get from her mother.
Daisy realized Ollie was deliberately avoiding an answer about the gun, so she went ahead and studied the well-groomed stranger long enough to make sure he meant no harm to Ollie. He dressed like a businessman and clearly spent more of his hours indoors than out, but broad shoulders and his muscular frame appeared strong enough to handle himself if someone wronged him. She hoped to end this situation before anything such as that took place.
“The sooner you and your daughter are finished, ma’am—” his voice held a timbre deep and resonant, making her wonder from what part of the country it had been cultivated “—the sooner my sister can return to my side and we can go about our business.”
That put a whole new light on his intentions. Daisy couldn’t fault him for wanting to protect his own. She respected such a man and would have shown him a friendlier disposition if they weren’t in such tense circumstances.
“I’m sure these fine gentlemen mean me no harm at all,” cooed his sister, flashing the cowboys a smile and fanning her face. “Please, take your time, Mrs. Trumbo.”
Ollie’s hands started to shake just from the sheer weight of the gun. Daisy faced the lineup of cowhands, deciding it best to get on with her daughter’s ploy so this could be ended as quickly as possible. Though one or two cowboys focused intently on Ollie, none appeared too worried about their safety. A red-haired cowhand in the front of the line was actually grinning.
