Chapter Three
Caleb Hart was a downright mess. He’d been nervous before, but never quite like this.
Not even the day he buried his brother and sister-in-law, when the weight of raising June fell squarely on his shoulders.
That had been grief and duty tangled together.
This was something else entirely, a knot in his stomach that grew to the size of a boulder by the time he got to town.
He just couldn’t seem to get a hold of himself.
He was a grown man, thirty-three years old, with a ranch to run and a child back home depending on him.
He’d faced bears, coyotes, and rabid wolves, fought off outlaws, and battled wildfires.
And won. So, why was he this scared of a woman he’d never even laid eyes on?
It made no sense.
His hands looked too big on the reins, his feet felt clumsy and awkward, and his shirt collar itched like it was trying to choke him.
He needed to hold his nerve. He had to make sure this woman, Nora Whitcomb, was an acceptable bride.
More importantly, he needed to know she could be a good mother to June.
His niece had been acting up something fierce since her parents died in a wagon accident.
Running off alone. Talking back. Refusing to do her chores. Angry all the time.
Crying at night when she thought he couldn’t hear.
According to his ranch hands, June just needed some order. She needed kind, loving direction. A woman’s touch. Someone patient enough to guide her and firm enough to keep her from wandering into trouble.
Tom had said this marriage would help her. Tom, who’d worked beside him for years and knew the ranch as well as Caleb did. Tom, who’d seen June’s tantrums over the past few years and her quiet spells, told Caleb straight out, “You need a wife, boss. Not for you, for her.”
Caleb had hated hearing it, but he knew Tom was right. He had no idea what to do for the girl. He didn’t even know what to do with his own grief.
Once he’d made it to Railroad Avenue, he quickly remembered why he tried to avoid this area.
It was late spring, and the sun was already getting hot, stirring the dust into a light haze.
Helena was already in full swing—freight wagons rattling toward the mines, a couple of horses tied outside a saloon, and the sharp smell of coal smoke drifting from the rail yard.
He passed the telegraph office, where a man stepped out, reading a letter and tapping ash from his cigarette. Caleb turned toward the depot.
The station wasn’t all that grand, just a sturdy brick building with a long wooden platform and a pot-bellied stove pipe still puffing the last of the night’s heat. A few passengers waited on benches outside, clutching their bags, while porters hauled crates toward a freight car.
Children darted around a baggage cart until their mother hissed at them to settle down. The whole place hummed with the bustle that came right before a train arrived.
Caleb slowed the team and pulled the wagon to a stop beside the platform. His palms were damp again, so he wiped them on his trousers and climbed down. He took off his hat, ran a hand through his hair, then put it back on.
He needed to settle himself. He was here to meet a woman he’d never even met, a woman who might end up his wife and June’s caretaker. But there was no sense getting worked up about it. Her looks didn’t matter to him, not one bit.
What mattered was that she liked children and had a strong back for ranch work. June had to take to her, of course. But as for him, he didn’t need to so much. He didn’t even have to see her except at meals if that’s how things shook out.
The train had just arrived when he got there.
He scanned the platform, looking for a woman who matched the tone of the letters she’d sent—practical and no-nonsense.
He expected someone plain. Maybe even stocky with a hard look about her, the kind that came from years of discipline.
Someone who’d answer a mail-order bride ad because she didn’t have many choices left.
He did not expect the woman who stepped off the train.
Caleb’s breath caught. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Tall, with warm, chestnut hair pinned neatly, hazel eyes that sparkled in the sun, and a traveling dress that fit her well.
Too well, maybe. Her eyes swept the platform like she was searching for something she wasn’t sure she wanted to find.
He sighed. Somewhere out here, some lucky man was waiting for her. While he was waiting for a female bull wrestler. He ripped his gaze away and continued to look for his Nora.
“Oh, no,” he muttered under his breath when the beautiful woman started strolling his way. “Keep walking. Please keep walking.”
If his bride saw him talking to her, she’d turn right around and go back to wherever she came from. No woman would want to compete with that.
But the woman didn’t walk past him.
She walked straight up to him.
Caleb felt his stomach drop.
Lord, help me.
She stood there in front of him, smoothing her gloves. “Are you Caleb Hart?”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He stared like a fool, struck dumb by the fact that this woman—this woman—knew his name. He managed a nod.
“I think you’re waiting for me,” she said.
Caleb blinked. “No, I’m waiting for Nora Whitcomb.”
The woman beamed a knee-wobbling smile at him. “That’s me.”
There was no way. He’d expected someone with bad teeth. Maybe hair that stuck out in all directions. Someone grateful for any chance at a home.
Not… her.
He cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Caleb Hart.” He tipped his hat. “You’re Miss Whitcomb.”
Of course, she was. She’d just told him she was.
“I am.” She nodded, her expression amused but guarded. “Call me Nora, please.”
“Right. Nora.” He swallowed.
He helped her with her bag, then went back to get her trunk once the porter had them lined up on the platform.
When the wagon was loaded, he offered his hand to help her up.
Her fingers were soft and warm. She stepped up, but her boot slipped on the edge of the wheel.
Caleb caught her around the waist without thinking, steadying her.
“Oh!” she gasped, looking at him with wide, shocked eyes.
The warmth of her shot straight up his arms, unsettling him more than he’d care to admit. Truth was, he’d never felt anything like it. Not even with Ruth. She felt… good. Real good.
He let go quickly, almost too quickly.
“Sorry, ma’am. Let me help you.” He all but lifted her into the wagon, then hurried over to his side and climbed in.
This wasn’t going to work out for him. He could already tell. He’d planned to put her in the back bedroom and forget she existed, except maybe at mealtimes or special occasions. But there was no way he’d be able to forget a woman like her. He doubted a woman like her could even cook anyway.
The drive out of town was quiet. Awkward.
But Caleb didn’t know how to make it less so.
He kept his eyes on the road, trying not to look at her too often.
Every time he did, he felt that same jolt of surprise—like there’d been some kind of mistake.
Like something may have gotten mixed up in their communications. Had she been expecting someone else?
“When will we marry?” she asked suddenly, making him jump.
He cleared his throat. “I was thinkin’ about that. Maybe we shouldn’t marry right away. Maybe we should take some time before we jump right into it.”
She turned her head sharply, obviously not pleased. “Oh?”
“I just mean… we ought to make sure we’re a good match first. No sense rushin’ into something that we might both regret.” He gripped the reins tighter.
She sat there a moment, staring hard at him. “Is it me? Were you expecting something or someone else? Were you…disappointed?”
“No!” God no. But then again, yes. He hadn’t expected someone like her to step down off the train. “It’s got nothing to do with you. I mean, it does, but I just don’t want to hurry you into something you might regret later. That’s all. I don’t want you to feel stuck. Trapped.”
She stared at him a moment longer, like she was trying to decide if he was being truthful.
“Let’s talk about it first,” he said. “Give you some time to decide if you want to live out here with June and me. If this is the kind of life you want for yourself. Not long.”
She hesitated, then frowned. “I’ll think about it.”
He let out a long breath.
“I’m not the kind of girl to live with a man, unwed and unchaperoned,” she explained. “People will talk. Word will spread. And my reputation will be tarnished before we even get started.”
People always talked. He wasn’t worried about that. But apparently, she was. It was more important to him that they were sure before they spoke their vows. Marriage was sacred. They should take their time and not make light of it.
They rode on in silence until the ranch came into view—the long stretch of pasture, the barn, the house his father had built with his own hands. He and Daniel had added onto the original house when Daniel married Miriam. Then, again, when June was born. Seemed like wasted space until now.
His nerves kicked up again, and before he could stop himself, he started talking.
“You’ll need to keep June on a schedule. She gets up at six and does her chores. Breakfast at seven. Schooling right after. She’s not allowed near the creek alone. Or the barn without Tom or me. And she’s got a habit of wanderin’ off, so you’ll have to keep a close eye on her. And—”
“Caleb.”
He immediately stopped talking, blinking at her. “Yes?”
She turned toward him fully, her eyes steady. “I’ll build my own relationship with June, and I’ll give her the same guidance I’d expect any child to follow. I’m not a hired hand, Caleb. I’m not on your payroll. This is my home now, and my life, too.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she kept going.
“I have a brain, and I know how to use it. And whatever routines you’ve set up for June clearly aren’t working. Otherwise, you wouldn’t need me.”
Caleb stared at her, stunned.
Annoyed.
And… intrigued.
He shut his mouth and looked back at the road. “Fair enough,” he muttered. “Handle things your own way.”
She nodded once, satisfied. “That said, tell me about her.”
After a moment, he said, “June’s eight and smart as a whip. Too smart sometimes.”
“She’s your…niece, right?”
Caleb nodded. “My brother’s daughter.”
“Is your brother—”
“Dead,” he snapped. “Him and his wife.” And Caleb’s fiancée, too. But he didn’t say that out loud. “She’s been through a lot. Lost her folks when she was five, and all she had left was me. She don’t talk about it much, but it’s there. You can see it.”
Nora’s expression softened. “I’m sorry.”
Caleb didn’t acknowledge her sympathy. He went on, talking about June. “She’s a handful,” he went on. “She needs someone patient and understanding. Someone who won’t give up on her.”
“Did you give up on her?” Nora asked.
Caleb shook his head. “No. That’s why you’re here.”
Nora nodded slowly.
“But I can’t be with her all the time. I have a working ranch that needs attention all day, every day.
The horses never stop needing care. And neither does June,” he explained.
“I have ranch hands who handle a lot of the day-to-day stuff. But I need to be there, too. I can’t be dragging my eight-year-old niece out to the barn once a week in the middle of the night to deliver a colt or take care of a colicky mare. ”
“I can understand that,” Nora said, listening closely.
“I’ve tried hiring cooks and housekeepers, but they don’t want to keep a young’un. They’re either gone right after supper, or they just don’t like kids.”
Nora smiled—a small, warm smile that surprised him. “That’s not a problem for me. I like children.”
He felt something loosen in his chest. Relief, maybe. Hope. “Good,” he said quietly. “She’ll need that.”
“Where’s your ranch exactly?” she asked, looking around.
“You’re on it,” he said with a chuckle. “Have been for a while now. The house is just up ahead.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, but it was more comfortable than before.
Caleb kept sneaking glances at her, unable to help himself.
He still couldn’t believe this woman had answered his ad.
It wasn’t even a very good ad. Even Tom said not to be surprised if no one responded.
He’d tried to get Caleb to rewrite it, make it more enticing.
But Caleb didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.
It was a ranch. Sometimes it was exciting. But most times, it wasn’t. You either liked ranch life or you didn’t. He wasn’t going to try to sell it to anyone.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to. He cut his eyes toward his passenger once again, still finding it hard to believe she was sitting there beside him in his wagon, heading toward his home.
Their home.
She was beautiful, smart, and classy. If she wasn’t afraid of hard work—which he’d soon find out—then he couldn’t have asked for a more perfect woman. He couldn’t believe his luck. And luck, it was. He just wasn’t sure if it was good luck or bad.
He didn’t want a real wife. Not after losing Ruth the way he did. Some of the things he’d seen since—marriages that turned sour, women trapped with men they didn’t care for, men trapped with women who resented them. And plenty of them are turning to the bottle to escape. He didn’t want that.
He’d planned to keep things simple. Practical. A marriage contract in name only.
But Nora Whitcomb wasn’t simple.
And nothing about this felt practical anymore.