Billionaire Flawed 1(85)

John shrugged, smiling. “I guess we will see what happens in the future, won’t we?”



Chapter Two

The dry dusty plain spread out in front of Margaret to one side, and the bustling action of the station was on the other. She looked out over the plain. It was in such contrast to the people milling about, talking, laughing and crying their goodbyes. She held on to her satchel and thought about how John had continued to talk to her about his travels for the rest of the ride. He was obviously itching to tell someone about them.

It made her wonder why he looked surprised when she said that he should write it all down and make a book of his adventures. It was as if the idea had never occurred to him before.

She went with her satchel directly into the train station and approached the clerk behind the counter.

“Pardon me,” she said. “Where is the nearest post?’

“You can send a telegraph through me right here, young lady. You want to send a letter you gotta go the other side of the station and talk to Ester.”

Margaret thought about it for a moment. “I will send a telegraph.”

She proceeded to send her father a message, letting him know that she had arrived safely and would be en route to Las Vegas shortly. She would keep him updated of her status.

The clerk took the telegraph and Margaret paid for it in coins.

She turned away just in time to see a man she suspected was Mark approaching her from the two double doors she had come through. He was not so tall, but he walked with confidence, taking long strides, his broad shoulders pushed back. Margaret noticed how his hazel eyes glistened and his smile was warm. He was handsome.

“Hello,” Mark said as he got closer, removing his hat. “You are Margaret, are you not?”

“I am. How did you guess?”

Mark took one of her long blond braids in his hand and touched the soft hair with his large, short fingers. Her bright blue eyes stared up at him from behind surprisingly dark lashes. He wondered how she managed that.

“Your description matches you nearly to perfection, Margaret. How uncanny.”

Margaret blushed a little and confessed, “It was my father who wrote that letter.”

Mark hesitated before throwing his head back to laugh loudly. “No wonder you sounded so full of yourself. That’s bound to happen when a father describes a daughter he loves.” He looked down at her. “You do have a close relationship with your father don’t you?”

“I do.” Margaret smiled up at him, pleased that he could tell without her saying it.

“It’s a good thing to have a relationship with your father like that. Respect is very important.”

“I agree.”

“Did your father approve of your decision to answer my ad?”

“Yes, he did. He was encouraging from the beginning.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Mark was very happy to hear it. He knew that a woman who had respect for her father would have respect for her husband, too. When he’d placed the ad, he’d only done so because he had been through all the women in the city and he hadn’t found a decent one in the bunch. He decided to roll the dice on a stranger, at the behest of one of his buddies at the stables. It had been all somebody else’s idea and he’d lucked out. He’d won that bet. He smiled. “So if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna take you on to the courthouse and get the papers signed.”

Margaret nodded. She didn’t know how it was supposed to go anyway. If he wanted it quick and immediate, she didn’t have an objection.

“I am fine with that.”

“Then after it’s done, you can come with me to the stables where I keep my horses. Some of them are for breeding. I also race.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “You ride a horse in a race?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I used to be a jockey, yeah, but it was a while ago. Now I just watch the races and train the jockeys and horses and breed. I’d like it if you would be there, meet everybody, maybe help out sometimes.”

Margaret jostled in the seat when the tires bumped over rocks and debris. She grabbed Mark’s arm instinctively and he smiled at her.

“You’ll have to get used to that. These roads can be pretty rough. You can’t really even call most of them roads. They’re just paths. The tires have made them in the ground where people keep going.”

“How long have you been here?” Margaret asked, looking at the dismal scene as it passed her by. There was not much of anything there. The people didn’t look very happy and the dust was constantly being kicked up by one horse or another.

“I was born and raised in the area but I’ve been here in this part of Nevada for four years. That’s when it got the postmaster, back in ’84. I arrived just days before they made it part of this state instead of Arizona.”