Chapter 4
Dawn broke over the prairie, the sky streaked with gold as Josh stepped out of the barn, the scent of hay and horses clinging to him.
His boots crunched on the frosty ground, his breath puffing in the chilly air.
To his surprise, when he arrived at the kitchen doorway, Catherine was standing beside Irene, who was showing her how to stoke the stove.
He leaned against the frame, unnoticed for a moment.
His eyes lingered on the jet-black curls peeking out from beneath a borrowed head scarf.
Her movements were careful and delicate, fueled by a determination Josh did not expect.
He continued to watch her, noting the way she listened to Irene’s instructions—how to knead properly, when to turn the bacon for the perfect crisp—with a focus that spoke of genuine effort.
She was not just going through the motions.
She wanted to belong. He shoved his hands in his pockets, fingers curling as a feeling he could not name stirred in his chest. Was it respect?
Admiration? Something else? Whatever it was, he could not seem to take his eyes off her, mesmerized for the moment by the woman who had landed in an unknown world and was already rolling up her sleeves.
At breakfast, the kitchen buzzed with the clatter of plates and the rich aroma of coffee.
Catherine sat across from Josh, her posture straight.
Her hazel eyes were bright despite the deep shadows beneath them.
Had she struggled to sleep? He thought to ask her about her arrangements and whether the bed was comfortable, but she spoke first. “The orphanage I grew up in had a garden,” she said, passing the biscuit basket to Irene.
“We kept chickens, too. The older girls taught us to cook and mend.”
Josh’s fork stilled. Her speech and manners, all perfectly genteel, spoke of an education and upbringing far beyond what any orphanage could provide.
“Sounds like they raised you right,” he said, keeping his tone level as he watched the woman’s expression as if searching for clues.
“You think you’ll miss living in the city? ”
Her gaze flicked to her plate, her fingers tightening around her mug. “Not much to miss,” she said softly. “Boston was… a hard place to call home. Chicago was not much different.”
Irene tilted her head, her eyes kind yet with the same sharp observance her son wore. “Hard or not, it shaped you, dear. You have a refinement about you that most don’t carry out here.”
Catherine’s cheeks flushed as she offered a small smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “Thank you, ma’am. I just… tried to make the best of it.”
After breakfast, Irene shooed them out of the kitchen. Seeing Catherine a bit unsure of what to do, he tilted his head toward the land. “Fancy a tour of the ranch?” he asked. “I didn’t want to offer yesterday, what with you being tuckered out from your travels and all.”
Her eyes swept the horizon before she gave a small nod, descending the few steps to the ground, and standing beside him. “I would like that, thank you,” she said in that perfect accent, electrifying the air with each syllable and forcing Josh to swallow.
The sun climbed higher, warming the air as they walked across the pastures, cattle grazing in the distance.
“This here is McKenna land,” he said, gesturing toward the rolling hills before leaning against the horse corral fence.
“Thomas’s spread is just over that rise.
We worked it together—branding, roundups, driving cattle to market. ”
Catherine stood beside him, her eyes alert, taking in the sprawling landscape.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice soft, carried away by the breeze.
That same breeze tugged at her hair, pulling stray strands until they danced across her cheeks.
“Thomas wrote about the prairie, but seeing it…” She paused, tucking her hair behind her ear as she let out a breath. “…it’s much bigger than I imagined.”
Josh chuckled. “Big and stubborn. The weather is fickle, the wolves are bold, and the market’s no friend to ranchers. It takes a tough soul to make it out here.”
She nodded; her expression thoughtful as she looked out over the copse of trees. “Thomas mentioned the market troubles,” she said, then paused, as if catching herself. “I mean, he hoped for better prices.”
Josh’s brow furrowed. Her tone, paired with a flicker in her eyes, hinted at deeper knowledge, as if she knew more than she was letting on. “Are you familiar with the market, Catherine?” he asked, half-teasing.
Her laugh was quick, almost nervous. “Only what I read in the papers back east. I just… hope you find honest buyers.”
Before he could press further, a piercing whinny split the air.
Thunder, the ranch’s wildest stallion, reared onto his back legs, his black coat gleaming in the sunlight.
In the next instant, he lunged toward the corral fence where Catherine stood.
Josh’s heart seized. “Catherine!” he shouted, grabbing her by the waist and yanking her into his chest just before the stallion’s hooves could splinter the wood where she had stood.
She trembled against his chest, her face pressed to his shirt as her hands gripped his arms with surprising strength.
Her heartbeat thudded against his ribs. As he tightened his embrace and a breeze rolled through the small space between their faces, the faint scent of lavender soap filled his senses.
Josh’s pulse raced, not from the danger but from the sudden, fierce urge to protect the woman in his arms and keep her safe from whatever had made her so skittish.
For a moment, they stood frozen, the world narrowing to the warmth nestled in his arms and the crackling energy sparking between them.
He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt too big for it.
Catherine pulled back before he could find his voice, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide.
She did not immediately step away from his embrace but remained just a hair’s breadth from his body.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaking as her fingers curled around his arms as if to steady herself. “I didn’t see him coming.”
Josh stepped back, his hands falling to his sides.
Heat crept up his neck, making the top of his head feel like a burning matchstick.
“Thunder’s got a devil in him,” he managed, his voice rough.
“I should have told you to steer clear of the fence. He’s not fond of strangers, or really anyone, for that matter. ”
Catherine smoothed her dress, her hands still trembling and her face as white as a sheet. She watched the horse gallop to the other side of the corral with weary eyes. “I’ll make sure to keep my distance,” she said, offering a shaky smile. “He’s incredibly beautiful, though. Do you ride him?”
“Try to,” Josh said, grateful for the conversation, if only to take his mind off his still-thumping heart and the heat still blazing through his skin. “He’s got spirit, but no sense. Thomas always said I was a fool for keeping him.”
Her laugh was soft and genuine. The fear finally melted away from her eyes. “Sounds like something he’d say.”
Josh turned, whistling for the stallion, who did not heed the command.
With a sigh, he climbed the fence and landed on the other side, his thoughts churning as he approached the beast. Mary’s face flashed in his mind.
He saw her gentle smile and heard the echo of her whispered plea to find happiness again after she was gone.
Guilt gnawed at him, sharp as barbed wire, but as he glanced at Catherine, standing against the vast prairie, he felt a pull he could not ignore.
Thomas had chosen her, and now Josh would protect her no matter what secrets she carried or what feelings she reawakened in his grieving heart.