Read The Western Dare (Harlequin Heartwarming) for Free Online Page B

vacations renovating a musty old house or being dragged through museums. He hadn’t dragged her. Those things were a big part of who he was. But Greta’s departure still hurt. Oh, he’d pretended to shrug off the loss as inconsequential—had even set about dating—which only left him more confused.
    As the wagons stretched out, and the sun spread fingers of pink and gold across an endless blue sky, Camp realized it was a mistake to have this much time on his hands to let his mind wander. Colleagues saw him as a man in control of his destiny. Intelligent, happy and smart to remain single. Sherry’s pals saw him as a callous guy on the make. Both groups were off base. When he wasn’t busy, he was lonely. The older he got, the more he wanted a close relationship of the sort his parents enjoyed. And children of his own. Nice, well-behaved kids.
    He shifted on the hard wooden seat, staring blindly at the rumps of the plodding horses. No doubt about it, he was going to be pretty sick of his own company long before they reached Kansas, let alone Santa Fe, New Mexico.
    Emily Benton grabbed her son, who was once again leaning too far off the seat. “Mark, what’s so interesting about watching where we’ve just been? Why don’t you crawl in the wagon bed and play a board game with your sister?”
    “Are you kidding? Megan wouldn’t lower herself. She’s probably got her nose in one of those horror stories she sneaked into her duffel. Besides, I’m bugging the old far— I mean dude. The one who shut off my tunes. He knows I’m slagging him and it drives him nuts.”
    “What old dude? And what’s ‘slagging’?” Emily asked absently, overlooking his slip of the tongue as she debated trying to roust Megan from her book. Communication of any sort with Megan had been almost nonexistent since Dave died. Emily had great hopes they’d reconnect on this trip. Her daughter was growing up too fast.
    Mark jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Slagging is like to insult somebody. I meant the old dude you guys forced into driving a wagon. The con man.”
    “Professor Campbell? Mark, don’t call him names.”
    The boy screwed up his face. “I don’t care. He reminds me of Dad. All smiles, making himself out to be the big man, while he’s conning you into doing the work.”
    Emily shot her son a sidelong glance. “If you saw all that, why is it so hard for you to see your grandfather’s attempts to manipulate?”
    “Toby has the bucks to do nice things for us. We’re poor.”
    “Don’t call your grandfather by his given name. It’s disrespectful, no matter what he and your grandmother say. And we aren’t poor, Mark. We’re not rich, but you have food on the table, a roof over your head and clothes on your back.”
    “Megan says Toby has the Midas touch. He’s a king who had rooms full of money. Like Gramps. Why not let him and Mona spend some on us?”
    “Oh, honey, it’s hard to explain. Gifts sometimes come with strings attached. Like if you accept gifts, the giver considers that you owe him in return. A payback. But his idea of an acceptable payback may not match yours.”
    Faint lines etched the child’s brow. “I don’t get it. Toby and Mona have everything. What could they want from us?”
    “Nothing, birdbrain.” There was a stirring inside the wagon and Megan thrust her head between her mother and brother. “Mom’s jealous because they can do more for us. Mona said so.”
    “Megan, that’s not true.” Emily did her best to hang on to her temper.
    “It is so, or else why did you drag us on this smelly old trip? You didn’t want us swimming in their pool or having them take us to the mall for school clothes. You’d rather let us die out here on some moldy trail.”
    Emily gripped the reins too tightly and the Clydesdales ground to a stop. “Megan, must you be so melodramatic? No one’s going to die on this trip.” Her lecture was interrupted by harsh snorts. Turning, Emily saw Nolan