COURT-APPOINTED MARRIAGE Read online

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  COURT-APPOINTED

  MARRIAGE

  by

  Dianne Castell

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  Contents:

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

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  Chapter 1

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  Prudence Randolph reached across the prosecutor's table and gave her grandmother's hand a reassuring squeeze. She cast a disparaging look at opposing attorney Brice McCormack, and his granddad sitting beside him. Then she faced the front of the courtroom and said, "Your Honor, my grandmother did not throw a box of nails under the tires of Wes McCormack's red pickup truck and cause him to get a flat. She would never do anything like that. Everyone knows Eulah Randolph's a pillar of the community, volunteers at the nursing home, and is on the library committee. That box of nails slipped out of her hands. She tried to pick the nails up but missed a few. It could happen to anyone."

  Prudence watched Brice roll his eyes. He stood and readjusted his string tie, which always seemed to be in his way. His scuffed cowboy boots made hollow thuds against the polished wood floor as he paced in front of Judge Willis. "Eulah Randolph deliberately threw those nails under my grandfather's truck, Your Honor. Flattening his tires was a premeditated act."

  "That's pure conjecture, Judge." Prudence straightened the jacket of her designer suit as she eyed Brice's attire. Jeans? Again? What kind of getup was that for a courtroom? Especially snug-fitting, hip-hugging jeans. This was not his precious ranch. There were no little doggies running around here to rope and brand.

  Prudence cleared her throat. "Mr. McCormack cannot prove his accusations. My grandmother cannot be held responsible for Wes McCormack's flat tires."

  "The hell she can't." Brice's outburst was met with a swift whack of Judge Willis's gavel, along with an intimidating look that didn't seem to faze Brice one bit.

  It wasn't easy to intimidate a six-foot-four man with broad shoulders and a build to match. Over the past three years, Prudence had tried often enough and had had no more success than the judge. She said, "It's Wes McCormack who's guilty here, Your Honor. He's the one who took two tires off my grandmother's Jeep to replace his one flat tire. That's larceny."

  Brice gave his good-ole-boy shrug. "That's absurd. As you know, Judge, my grandfather is a Boy Scout leader and volunteers with the Head Start Program. He was in a hurry and just mistook Ms. Eulah's Jeep for his own red pickup that needed new tires. Since he was in town he'd decided to—"

  "Oh, give me a break, Brice." Prudence glared. "I don't care how busy Wes was—since when can't he tell the difference between a pickup and a Jeep? Your grandfather stole those tires—"

  "And your grandmother dumped those nails." Brice towered over Prudence, but she held her ground.

  "Prove it!"

  "You prove it!"

  A loud bang of Judge Willis's gavel echoed through the courtroom. "Tarnation! Enough, you two." His eyes narrowed into thin slits, and his right hand clutched the gavel as if he wanted nothing more than to use it on the two attorneys in front of him. "This damn Randolph-McCormack feud is driving me and the rest of the citizens of Serenity plumb nuts. We've been putting up with it for going on seventy years now, and even by Texas standards that's a mighty long time. Since you two took over defending your kin, I personally have heard every excuse imaginable for one family laying into the other." Judge Willis leaned forward, nearly toppling off his elevated perch. "But today you've both outdone yourselves with the most pitiful, exaggerated explanations I've ever heard in all my days. This nonsense has got to stop!"

  Prudence ignored Brice as he stood beside her. "Your Honor," she said in her most attorney-like voice, "this is not the Randolphs' fault. You know as well as I do that if the McCormacks hadn't swindled my granddaddy out of his fair share of the Half-Circle Ranch—"

  "Swindle? Ha!" Brice yanked at the silver slide of his string tie, loosening it. "You know damn well that your granddaddy was paid a fair price for his share of—"

  Judge Willis whacked the gavel again, this time snapping the wood head clean off the handle. "I said enough! We all know what started this feud, and we're not rehashing it in my courtroom. Understand?"

  The judge growled as he considered his broken gavel, then he jabbed the headless stick at Grandma Randolph, then Granddad McCormack. "You both should be damn-well ashamed of yourselves for dumping nails and stealing tires. But since I know neither of you are, I'm fining you and sentencing you to clean up Bandstand Park. Wes, you take the north side. Eulah, you take the south. And I don't want to hear about any squabbling while you're out there, or I'll have you both slapping paint on bleachers at the high school."

  Willis raised his hand to bang his gavel, then realized the futility of his effort. Another of his deep growls echoed through the room. "I've had it with the whole blasted bunch of you. Prudence? Brice? I want you both in my chambers right now, and I mean now. Get your kin out of my courtroom before I get really cranky."

  Prudence took her seat and watched Grandma Eulah purse her lips, as Judge Willis left the courtroom, his black robe trailing behind him as if it had difficulty keeping up. "Well, lordy," Grandma said as she smoothed back her neatly styled salt-and-pepper hair. "Who do you think peed in old Willis's cereal this morning?"

  "Shh!"

  Prudence gave her grandmother a withering look, which the older woman ignored.

  "You'd think this was the first time that old coot, Wes, and myself were in here. Willis should be getting used to this feuding stuff by now. Why, I bet our kin and those no-account McCormacks are in this courtroom at least once a week."

  "More like three times a week," Prudence mumbled as she handed Grandma Eulah her purse, then hurried her to the exit. Prudence took care not to crowd Brice, as he led his granddad in the same direction. She spent as little time as possible in the company of the McCormacks and that went double for Brice. Her father had compared her to that boy, that teen, that man, all her natural life. She resented Brice McCormack to no end, and he was her absolute least favorite person in all of Texas.

  Besides, another Eulah Randolph-Wes McCormack altercation on the front steps of the courthouse was not a good idea, with Judge Willis in such a cantankerous mood.

  Why did he want to meet with her and Brice, anyway? After this latest confrontation, the three of them weren't getting together to exchange chili recipes, that was for sure.

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  Brice stretched out his legs and settled back into one of the brown leather chairs in Judge Willis's chambers. He had no idea why Judge Willis wanted to see him and Pru. It wasn't like today's court battle was different from any other day's. He didn't have time for this, either. On a ranch, spring meant work, lots of work. Couldn't Wes, Eulah, and the rest confine their spats to wintertime?

  He'd gone into law to help understand the oil and ranch businesses that seemed to be getting more and more tangled up in legal mumbo-jumbo these days. Unfortunately, the Randolph-McCormack fend was on an upswing, and defending his kin ate up a lot of Brice's time. Not that he blamed his family, of course. It was those sniveling, whining Randolphs who caused all the problems, and it was his duty to take care of his family.

  The chamber door opened, and Prudence entered. She had on another one of those New York power suits. Probably slept in the damn things. Her wardrobe, her pinned-up hair, even her navy-blue Lincoln Continental fit her name perfectly. She reminded him of a store-wrapped package, all done up nice and neat with everything matching and nothing out of place. Sometimes—not very often, mind you, but just sometimes—Brice wondered what was inside the package.

  Prudence stopped in front of him. She tipped her chin just a bit to
let him know she was all business. Then again, when was Prudence Randolph anything but business? "Mistaking a Jeep for a pickup, Brice? That was really pathetic, especially since Wes was guilty as sin."

  It usually took less than fifteen seconds before she'd start carping at him about something the devil-minded McCormacks had done to the lily-pure Randolphs. He glanced at his watch; today she'd done it in ten seconds flat. Not quite a new record but damn close.

  She was really loaded for bear, too. He could tell because her big blue eyes were dark as night, and shooting sparks that reminded him of fireworks on the Fourth of July. When Pru was in a more docile mood, her eyes were the color of those bachelor buttons that grew wild on the side of the road in June. And every once in a while, when he'd catch her off guard, her eyes would be smoky, even a bit dreamy, as if she wanted to be somewhere other than where she was. These days it was hard to imagine Prudence Randolph as a dreamer or as being anywhere but in a fancy business suit in a courtroom.

  Brice folded his arms. "Don't you go throwing stones at my explanation when yours wasn't one iota better." He arched his brow in accusation as he mimicked, "Why, Judge, those nasty tacks just slipped out of Eulah's hands." He huffed. "Now that was really pathetic, Pru, especially since Eulah was the one who started this whole ruckus."

  He watched her jaw clench. "For the millionth time, my name is not Pru."

  The first time he'd called her that, they'd been five, and she'd caught him in a game of kiss-and-catch on the kindergarten playground behind the big slide. Even though they were sworn enemies, she'd actually kissed him. And—sworn enemies or not—he'd liked it. For some reason he'd called her Pru ever since.

  "My explanation was just fine," she insisted with a toss of her head and a hint of a blush in her cheeks that suggested either she was remembering that kiss behind the slide or, more likely, her defense about the tacks was not fine at all. Between her telltale eyes and her blush, she'd never make it as a big-city, cutthroat attorney—not that she was aiming to be one. Serenity was her home, just as it was his, and they were both aiming to stay here forever, probably doing battle until they were old and gray and using walkers to amble their way around the courtroom.

  She said, "Grandma Eulah is just a tad eccentric—"

  "A tad?" Brice pushed himself out of the chair.

  "And Granddad Wes is the picture of clear-thinking?" Pru's eyes never left his.

  "He's … exuberant."

  "How about loud and obnoxious, just like the rest of your clan. The whole bunch needs therapy. You spend half your time keeping them out of trouble and the other half solving their problems."

  "Better than living in a Randolph dictatorship."

  "That's not—"

  Pru's words were cut off when Judge Willis stomped into the room. "Damnation!" he bellowed, slamming the door behind him. "You two still at it?" He peered at Brice, then Prudence, pointing at each of them in turn with his very authoritative finger. "I want quiet I don't want either of you to utter one word—not one—until I've finished what I've come here to say."

  Brice nodded, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Pru do the same.

  Judge Willis said, "Now sit and listen up."

  Pru took the other brown leather chair, as Brice reclaimed the one he'd vacated. The judge settled himself behind his desk. He still had on his robe, always a bad sign. It meant he was going to use his judicial power for something, and that something was never good for attorneys.

  Judge Willis deliberately placed the head of his gavel on one side of his large, oak desk and the handle on the other side. His thick eyebrows drew together into one long, furry line as he studied the two pieces, then said, "Things in Serenity are going to change. This feud is going to cease and desist. And you two—" he gave Brice and Prudence a penetrating look "—are going to make it happen."

  Knowing that was impossible, Brice felt words of protest forming on the tip of his tongue, and watched Pru swallow away protests of her own. Judge Willis was the final voice of authority in Serenity, and everyone knew it. He was respected. He never backed down. He took no sides in the feud, and he always wanted what was best for the town.

  The judge pushed his chair back, then paced. His footsteps were soundless on the well-worn Navajo rug now splashed with late-afternoon sunlight. "I've given this a lot of thought, you see. I've got a plan that's going to solve our present problem. You two are going to work together." He nailed them both in the same glare, silencing any rebuttal. "And I do mean together. I want you to get one member of each of your families talking—not yelling, screaming or hurling insults—with someone from the other family."

  Brice opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He would argue later.

  The judge continued. "Think of the most easygoing, agreeable relatives you have, get them on neutral territory—maybe have them meet up in another town. You two make sure they get together, maybe have a little dinner, and everybody communicate like civilized people! It's the first step in putting a stop to this dang feud."

  Pru said, "But Brice and I—"

  The judge scowled a warning. "No buts! You're going to get two people talking, and then they can get two more, and so on. And—" his expression hardened, his face turned a little purple, and he pointed that authoritative finger again "—if you two don't cooperate, the next time your grandmas and granddads and aunts and uncles and cousins come into my court over some altercation, they're not just paying fines and doing community service. They're spending time in jail."

  Brice heard Pru's gasp at the same time he gulped. Jail? McCormacks didn't go to jail. Randolphs didn't, either—though they sure as hell should.

  "I'm not just blowing smoke here," the judge said. "I mean every bloomin' word I'm saying. The town is splitting right down the middle because of this feud. Wasn't so bad long ago when only a few people were involved. But as more McCormacks and Randolphs married and had kids, and then those kids married…"

  The judge shook his head, setting free strands of gray hair that had been carefully combed over an ever-expanding bald spot. "Damn near the whole town's involved now. You know my own daughter's married to a McCormack and my niece to a Randolph. But what you don't know is what it's like at my house when those two girls wind up there at the same time. Sweet mother! And to think they used to be best friends. My ears ring for days after one of their tiffs." The judge looked bleary-eyed and rubbed his temples.

  He checked his watch. "I'm sequestering you both in here for an hour, and I want results. You understand me? Three days from now I want to hear that two people from your families met and that all went well. Then they can think of two more people to get together."

  The judge strode to the door. When the door shut behind him and the tumbler turned, Brice knew the judge hadn't been kidding. And when a pencil hit him in the arm he knew this wasn't just some bad dream. "Why'd you throw a pencil at me, Randolph?"

  "You put Willis up to this, didn't you." Pru's eyes were blazing.

  "Me? What gives you that idea?"

  She got up and kicked her briefcase across the room. "Because the McCormacks are tired of hearing what a worthless bunch of conniving thieves they really are and want to hush up the whole sordid ranch deal." She shrugged off her jacket and tossed it over her chair.

  "Maybe you put Willis up to this because the Randolphs are running out of things to whine about. Whine, whine, whine, that's all they ever do. Owning half the town isn't enough."

  "You should talk. Operating half of one of the most prosperous spreads in these parts wasn't enough for the McCormacks—they had to go and steal the other half, as well." She rounded on him, the toes of her high heels touching the tips of his boots. She planted her hands on her hips—her very shapely hips. Criminy, where'd they come from? He never took notice of Pru's hips before. Until right now he hadn't realized she had hips.

  Oh, he'd been close to her enough times, just couldn't remember ever being at hip-eye level. Hmm. Usually he and Pru were stomping aro
und, exchanging hostile looks, accusatory glances and incriminating barbs. They didn't spend any time alone. Except for a few minutes here or there, this was a first. For sure, they'd never been locked up together with him looking at her hips. Suddenly, Brice's hands itched to be where Pru's hands were.

  "We didn't steal the Half-Circle," Brice said, desperately trying to forget about rounded hips, itchy hands and being alone with Prudence Randolph in such a small room. "The ranch was bought and paid for, and it wasn't the richest spread around seventy years ago—you can bet your bottom dollar on that. My family works to make it successful."

  "When you can keep them out of trouble long enough."

  Brice's glare clashed with Pru's at the same moment the door opened, and Judge Willis stuck his head inside. "You now have fifty-seven minutes to comply with the wishes of this here court—that's me, in case you've forgotten—or you're both going to jail for contempt. Then you'll be able to give your families a firsthand report on the conditions there!" The door banged shut behind him.

  "Damn." Brice didn't know if he uttered the word first or if Pru did.

  "Now what?" she said as she paced. Brice snatched his briefcase out of her path. It was his favorite, and he didn't intend to have Pru drop-kick it across the judge's desk.

  Her perfectly pinned-up hair was loose, trailing around her face in little spirals. She looked sexy as hell. He gave himself a mental shake. Being locked up alone with Prudence Randolph was doing strange things to his brain, as well as having a decided effect on parts of his male anatomy that were nowhere near his brain. He made a mental note to never get locked up with Pru again.

  "Now," he said, reining in his wayward thoughts, "we come up with a McCormack and a Randolph who can be in each other's company for more than thirty minutes without all hell breaking loose."

  "Impossible," Pru said, as he caught a faint whiff of vanilla perfume.