Chapter 3
His coffee had gone cold an hour ago, but Thomas kept his hands wrapped around the cup anyway.
His left cheek throbbed in time with his pulse, and the gash over his cheekbone stung every time he moved his face. Rose had wanted him to stop at the doctor’s clinic to have it stitched, but Thomas declined. The cut would heal fine with salve.
James’s gunshot had stopped the fight before Jake and his friends could do real damage. Thomas had gotten off with just the swollen cheek and the cut—and a set of bruised ribs that protested every deep breath. Could’ve been worse.
Would’ve been worse if his brother hadn’t shown up when he did.
The girl had disappeared in the chaos. He’d looked for her afterward, but she’d vanished into whatever shadows had spawned her. Probably for the best. What would he have done with her anyway? Brought her back to the ranch like some kind of stray?
Though that would’ve been less insane than what his brothers had actually done—ordering him a wife like she was a cookstove from a catalog.
The café door opened, and Thomas straightened, despite the protest from his ribs. But it was just a miner, shoulders hunched against the cold, making his way to the counter.
Not James. Not Rose. Not the poor woman they’d summoned across half the continent to marry a man who’d never written her a single word.
His stomach twisted, and he pushed the cold coffee away.
What was he supposed to say to her? Sorry my brothers are meddling fools who can’t mind their own business? Sorry they used my name to make promises I won’t be keeping?
The door opened again.
This time it was them—James and Rose, and behind them…
Two women.
His mind stuttered. Two?
He pushed to his feet, manners drilled too deep to ignore even when his world was falling apart. The movement sent a spike of pain through his side, but he kept it off his face.
Both women followed James and Rose into the cafe, approaching his table. The shorter one possessed honey-blonde hair escaping its pins, delicate features, and eyes that went wide at the sight of his injured face.
The taller woman beside her had hair the color of pale wheat and a spine like an iron rod. Her hazel eyes swept over him with the kind of assessment usually reserved for livestock, and her mouth thinned to a hard line when her gaze landed on his cheek.
They stopped in front of him, but all he could do was take them in. He should say something. Welcome them. Apologize for his appearance. Explain about the fight.
Instead he stood there like an idiot while his face throbbed and his tongue forgot how to form words.
Rose stepped forward, filling the awkward gap. “Thomas, may I present Miss Clara McKinney and her sister, Miss Kate McKinney?” She motioned to the shorter woman first, then the taller.
Sister.
The word clicked into place, and the situation clarified itself. Clara was the bride. Kate was the chaperone—the protective older sister who’d come along to make sure her younger sibling wasn’t being delivered into the hands of a frontier monster.
Based on the look Kate McKinney was giving him right now, she’d already decided which category he fell into.
“Ladies.” He managed a nod to each of them, though the movement made his cheek sting. “Please, sit.”
Clara moved first, her step hesitant as she settled into the chair James pulled out for her. Her gaze kept darting to Thomas’s face, then away, then back again. Like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing but couldn’t stop looking either.
Kate remained standing a moment longer, that assessing stare never wavering. Then she took the seat beside her sister with the rigid posture of someone preparing for battle.
James and Rose claimed the remaining chairs, and Thomas lowered himself back into his own. His ribs protested, and he had to focus to keep the wince off his face.
The silence stretched long enough to become uncomfortable. Rose opened her mouth—probably to launch into some prepared speech—but Thomas raised a hand to stop her.
If he was going to do this, he’d do it honestly. No more games. No more half-truths or careful omissions.
“I apologize for my appearance.” He kept his voice level despite the way his jaw ached with each word. “There was an altercation earlier. Nothing to do with—” He gestured vaguely at the table, at the situation, at the disaster his brothers had created. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Kate McKinney’s eyebrow climbed. “An altercation.”
The way she said it—flat and disbelieving—made it sound like he’d claimed the sun rose in the west.
“A disagreement that got out of hand.” He met her gaze and held it, though something about those hazel eyes made him want to look away. “I was helping someone. It escalated.”
“Helping someone.” She repeated his words again, stripping them of meaning through her clear skepticism.
“Yes.” He spoke a little too forcefully. Something about her tone—the way she made everything sound like an accusation—set his teeth on edge. “A girl was being mistreated. I intervened.”
“How noble.” Still that flat delivery, though her fingers had moved to rest on her sister’s arm. Protective. Possessive, even.
So similar to Jake's movements in the saloon and yet entirely different. Gentle where Jake’s had been brutal, reassuring where his had been controlling.
Still. The comparison lodged in his mind and wouldn’t shake loose.
Rose cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should order some food? I’m sure you ladies are hungry after your journey.”
“We’re fine, thank you.” Kate’s words cut across Rose’s suggestion. She leaned forward, and he had the distinct impression of being pinned by a hawk. “Mr. Balfour, I think we need to discuss the nature of this arrangement.”
His stomach dropped. She knew. Somehow she already knew this whole thing was a sham.
He glanced at James, but his brother’s face had gone blank. No help there.
“The nature of the arrangement.” He repeated the words to buy himself time to think. His cheek throbbed, and the pain made it hard to focus. “Yes. We should discuss that.”
Clara’s hand moved to clutch her sister’s arm now, fingers white-knuckled against the dark fabric. Her face had gone pale beneath the travel dust, and something about that look—hopeful and terrified in equal measure—made his chest tighten.
She’d come all this way believing in something that didn’t exist. Believing in him, or at least the version of him his brothers had invented in their letters.
“Miss McKinney—both of you—there’s something you need to know.” The words tasted foul. He’d never been good at disappointing people. That was supposed to be his gift—the charm that smoothed over rough situations, the easy smile that made people like him even when they shouldn’t.
But there was no charming his way out of this mess.
Kate’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
“I didn’t know about this arrangement.” The confession came out blunt and graceless. “My brothers made it without consulting me. I never wrote those letters. I never asked for—” He stopped himself before he could say something truly rude. “A bride.”
The words landed like stones in still water. Clara’s face crumpled—just for a moment before she caught herself.
But he saw it. The hope draining away, replaced by something that looked like humiliation.
His throat tightened. This was worse than getting punched. At least with Jake’s fists, the pain had been clean and straightforward.
“You didn’t know.” Kate’s voice hadn’t changed—still that same flat skepticism—but her fingers tightened on Clara’s arm. “Your brothers arranged a marriage without telling you.”
“That’s correct.” The admission burned worse than the cut on his cheek.
James shifted in his seat, and Thomas could feel his brother preparing to launch into some explanation. Some attempt to smooth this over and make it all sound reasonable.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“My brothers—all three of them—decided I needed settling.” The words came easier now that he’d started. Like lancing a wound. “They wrote the letters. Made the promises. Set up this whole arrangement without telling me.”
Clara made a small sound—not quite a gasp, not quite a sob—and pressed her hand to her mouth. Her eyes had gone bright and glassy.
Thomas forced himself to hold Kate’s gaze rather than look at her sister’s devastation. Cowardly, maybe, but he couldn’t bear to see what his honesty did to her.
“I see.” Kate sat back in her chair, and something about the movement reminded him of a general reassessing the battlefield. “And what exactly do you intend to do about the situation now, Mr. Balfour?”
What did he intend? His ribs ached with each breath, his cheek throbbed, and his brothers had just blown apart any remaining trust he’d had in them. California looked better than ever—his escape route, his fresh start, his chance to finally live life on his own terms.
But seeing Clara McKinney’s devastated face—even as he tried not to—made California feel less like freedom and more like running away.
“I won’t hold you to any arrangement I didn’t make.” He forced the words out steadily. “We’ll escort you both to our ranch so you can rest and recover from your journey. You can decide what you want to do from there. If you choose to return East, I’ll pay for your passage.”
Kate’s expression didn’t soften. “How generous.”
The sarcasm stung worse than the gash on his cheek.
“Kate.” Clara’s voice came out small and tight. She dropped her hand from her mouth and gripped the edge of the table. “Perhaps we should—”
“We should get the full picture before making any decisions.” Kate’s attention never left Thomas’s face. “Mr. Balfour, tell me about this ranch. How many people live there?”
The shift in topic caught him off-balance. “My three brothers, two with wives, and our oldest has a newborn babe.” He shot a look at James. “Plus our housekeeper, Mrs. Wang. And me, obviously.” Though not for long, if he could manage it.
“How many bedrooms?”
“Eight.” Where was she going with this?
“And the nearest town?”
“Walnut Springs. About an hour and a half ride.”
Kate’s mouth pressed into an even thinner line. “So if we go to this ranch, we’ll be trapped there. An hour and a half from civilization, surrounded by your family, with nowhere to go if we need to leave.”
Trapped? She thought he’d bring them to the ranch and—what? Hold them prisoner? Force Clara into a marriage she didn’t want?
The injustice of it burned hotter than the cut on his face. He’d just told them the truth, offered them a way out, promised to pay their way back East. And still she looked at him like he was some kind of predator circling wounded prey.
“You’d be guests in our home.” He kept his voice level despite the anger climbing his throat. “Free to leave whenever you choose. We’ll provide safe transportation any time you ask. I give you my word.”
“Your word.” Kate’s laugh held no humor. “Forgive me if I find that less than reassuring, given that your family’s word brought us here under false pretenses.”
The accusation hung between them, and Thomas couldn’t argue with it. She was right. His brothers had lied, and now their dishonesty stained him too.
Clara’s fingers had gone white where they clutched the edge of the table. A single tear tracked through the dust on her cheek, and she brushed it away quickly—like she hoped no one had noticed.
And the sight of it made something twist in his chest.
“You’re right. My family’s word brought you here under false pretenses. I can’t undo that. But I can give you my word—my personal word, not theirs—that you’ll be treated with respect at the ranch. That you’ll be safe. That you’ll have choices.”
Kate’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in those hazel eyes. Not trust—he hadn’t earned that—but maybe a tiny bit less hostility.
“I’d like to see this ranch before we make any decisions.” Her tone remained businesslike, stripped of warmth. “If what you say is true, then we’ll need to understand what we’re dealing with.”
Rose leaned forward, her voice gentle. “Of course. We thought we’d stay here in Butte tonight—let you both rest after your journey—then head to the ranch in the morning. It’s a full day’s ride.”
Clara’s face went another shade paler. These women had likely already traveled two or three months to get here, and now they had to face another day of hard riding into the mountains.
All for nothing. All because his brothers couldn’t leave well enough alone.
“That’s acceptable.” Kate’s fingers finally loosened on her sister’s arm. “We’ll need rooms, of course. And time to refresh ourselves before dinner.”
“Already arranged.” James spoke for the first time since the introductions, his voice carrying that careful warmth he used when trying not to make things worse. “A room on the second floor. The hotel has baths available as well.”
Kate’s face showed no reaction to the words. Just that same assessing stare, like she was calculating angles and measuring distances in case she needed to make a quick escape.
He couldn’t blame her. If he’d been in her position—dragged across the continent on false promises, only to discover the whole thing was a lie—he’d be suspicious too.
Still, the constant scrutiny made his jaw tighten. Every time her gaze swept over his battered face, judgment seemed to drip from her eyes. Like the fight proved something about his character. Like helping that girl made him reckless or dangerous instead of decent.
“Thank you.” Clara’s voice came out barely above a whisper. She’d been so quiet he’d almost forgotten she was there—which was ridiculous given she was the whole reason for this disaster. “That’s very kind.”
Rose stood, smoothing her skirts with the kind of grace that came naturally to her. “Why don’t I show you to your rooms? You can rest, and we’ll meet for dinner later. Say, six o’clock?”
Kate rose as well, one hand reaching to help Clara up from her chair. The movement was protective—the way she positioned herself between Clara and the rest of them.
Thomas stood as well. The movement made his vision blur, and he gripped the edge of the table until the room steadied.
When his eyes focused again, Kate was watching him with that same calculating expression. Like she was cataloging every wince, every sign of weakness, storing it all away to use against him later.
Let her look. He had nothing to hide. Well, except for the fact that he’d be heading to California as soon as he could manage it—but that was his business, not hers.
And the day he’d leave couldn’t come soon enough.