The City Girl Who Married a Nevada Rancher

Chapter One

Virginia City, Nevada

It was supposed to be a good day.

It was one of those mornings that made a man glad to be alive. The sun had fairly exploded over the horizon, lighting the hills that jutted out of the near-desert first in pink and then in gold. The sky was so blue it almost hurt to look at.

Aidan Rawlins took a deep breath and savored it. He pulled his hat off, ran his fingers through his nearly-black hair, and regretted it at once; he’d oiled it that morning in an effort to look like a civilized gentleman of means. He glanced around and swiped his fingers on his leather chaps.

A small gig was turning up the drive to the Two Dog Ranch, kicking up a cloud of dust that hung in the gathering heat all the way back to the edge of town.

The ranch sat below the foothills of Virginia City, on the opposite side from the mines, its pastures and buildings in the shadow of the hills.

That shade was the only relief anywhere from the hard Nevada sun.

Aidan put his hat back on and arranged his face into what he hoped was a personable expression as the driver pulled up beside the trough outside the house. He crossed to him in ground-eating strides, too fast, and knew it.

“Mr. Cole, I presume?” Aidan said as the driver struggled to get down from the gig.

He hovered, unsure whether he ought to help; it wasn’t as though the man were a lady he could offer a hand to, and Aidan very much didn’t want to give this fellow any grievance.

The man didn’t answer, his feet tapping for solid ground. He gave up the fight, dropped the last several inches, grunted, and turned to regard Aidan.

“You presume correctly,” Mr. Cole sniffed, pushing a set of small round spectacles up his nose. His dark suit was already dusted with road grime, and he clutched a leather valise.

“Aidan Rawlins,” Aidan said, reaching forward to grasp the man by the hand. “Welcome to the Two Dog!” He shook it vigorously, all warmth and congeniality.

Aidan was thirty-three, taller than most men in town by a head, and his dark hair and eyes were viewed with suspicion. His brother, Brendan, had said more than once that if ranching didn’t work out, there was a career waiting for him on the stage, playing villains.

Mr. Cole was unmoved. The handshake only knocked his glasses down his nose again, and he replaced them with a purse-lipped huff. Aidan let go.

“Yes, well,” Mr. Cole said, brushing futilely at the dust on his sleeves, “shall we get on with it?”

“As you like,” Aidan said, gesturing Mr. Cole after him and taking smaller steps so as not to outpace him. “The Two Dog was established in 1859, when my brother and I bought the ground off a man who’d rather chase silver than raise horses—”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Cole interrupted. “I know all of that already. We on the town council take great care in knowing our town’s history. What I’m more concerned about is the future.”

“Oh, me as well,” Aidan said. Mr. Cole frowned. “That is, I as well… No,” Aidan said, pausing to rub at the back of his neck self-consciously. “What I mean to say is, I do as well,” he pronounced confidently. He glanced at Mr. Cole for approval, who merely sighed.

This is going well, Aidan groused to himself. Why don’t you save some time and just push the little man down in the dirt?

“Right, the future,” Aidan said, turning to gesture at the ranch with a sweeping arm.

“As I’m sure you and your esteemed colleagues are aware, the Two Dog has been supplying the area with horses for over a decade now.

” He walked on toward the red stable. “Everything from fresh-broke mustangs for the cattle ranches to pit ponies for the mines, and draft horses for the farms and the railroad.”

Mr. Cole looked out over the ranch, nonplussed. “Yes, it certainly is an… equine enterprise you have out here,” he allowed. “It’s served its purpose well enough, but it’s not a patch on the great stables of the east.”

Aidan sidled around to stand in front of Mr. Cole, holding his hands up. “That’s exactly the thing,” he said. “I want to do more than provide cattle ponies; I want to provide elegant, well-bred horses to the genteel folk in town.”

Mr. Cole regarded Aidan dubiously. “You want to expand your operation for that? Surely you have the space here already—”

Aidan interrupted him with a shake of his head. “Not for both,” Aidan said. “We’ll have to keep providing the ranches with working horses, but we also want to bring in something for the more… tony residents.”

Mr. Cole considered this, turning a critical gaze out onto the ranch. “And you think you can do this?”

“I know I can,” Aidan said. “I spent last winter back east, studying how it’s done. As you say, the animals they breed there are…”

“Civilized?” Mr. Cole supplied.

“Just so,” Aidan agreed.

“What are you asking the town council for?” Mr. Cole said.

“I’ll need a few more acres of land and the permits to build more stables. I want a proper brick barn for the studs,” Aidan said. He gestured across the ranch. “I want to build it just there, next to that hay rick.”

Mr. Cole considered for a moment. “Well, I commend your enterprising spirit, Mr. Rawlins, but you should know that the town council has more pressing matters at hand. We have the new school to consider, what with the overcrowding, and there’s the proposed opera house—”

“That’s just it,” Aidan interrupted. “Just picture it: You’re having an evening out, a real special night of it, an elegant lady on your arm—I imagine Mrs. Cole is a picture of respectability—and you step out of a carriage at the opera.

You’re both the picture of grace and manners…

and your carriage is pulled by a cowpony. ”

“A cowpony?” Mr. Cole repeated.

“A spotted one,” Aidan answered gravely, his voice low as if he were afraid someone might overhear them.

Just as Aidan had hoped, Mr. Cole’s lip curled. “Oh. Oh, I see,” he said. He glanced around the ranch again. “A brick barn, you say?”

Aidan nodded.

Mr. Cole pushed his glasses up on his nose again. “Fine carriage horses?”

“The finest,” Aidan said.

“Riding horses, too?”

“Real elegant steppers,” Aidan assured him. “Something that a gentleman could be proud of.”

Mr. Cole considered. There was surely a smaller Mr. Cole somewhere inside him, sliding beads around on an abacus and muttering numbers. Aidan bit his lip.

“Well, I’m not wholly opposed to the idea, Mr. Rawlins,” Mr. Cole said at last. “I must tell you, though, that those of us on the council are very concerned about the future of our fair city. We’re not some flash-in-the-pan mining town; we want good men who are serious about staying, who want to put down lasting roots.

” He paused and pulled out a handkerchief to dab delicately at the back of his neck. “Are you married?”

“Ah, not just yet,” Aidan said with a slight wince. “I’m hoping to rectify that shortly. I’ve already taken steps.”

“Mm,” Mr. Cole said, regarding Aidan again over the top of his glasses. “See that you do. Marriage is the civilizing of a man,” he intoned with the air of a preacher giving a sermon.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Aidan said, hoping that Mr. Cole didn’t catch his dry tone. Mr. Cole shot him a questioning look, and Aidan hurriedly pointed to a second house farther back on the property. “My brother can attest to that.”

“Your brother is a widower,” Mr. Cole deadpanned.

“Well, yes, but he’s experienced the benefits of marriage,” Aidan said.

“Well, then,” Mr. Cole said. Without putting his valise down, he delicately folded his handkerchief and replaced it in his pocket.

“Seeing as I know the elder Mr. Rawlins to be a steady sort of man, I’m inclined to approve your request. He has children to provide for, after all, and I don’t think he’d do anything foolish enough to jeopardize their future. ”

“Probably not,” Aidan agreed. Mr. Cole’s words sank in. “Wait—does this mean that you’ll approve my purchasing more acres?”

“I have to put it to the rest of the council,” Mr. Cole said. “But I think they’ll look on it favorably.”

“Oh, that’s—why, that’s splendid news, Mr. Cole,” Aidan said, unable to stop himself from grasping Mr. Cole’s hand and shaking it again.

Mr. Cole reached up with his free hand to keep his well-brushed bowler on his head. “Yes, well, stop by the land office in town,” he said. “We can go over the particulars in a more professional environment.”

“As you say, Mr. Cole,” Aidan said, only half-hearing him. No doubt the man was eager to get back behind a desk somewhere, safe from the sun and the dust.

Mr. Cole turned to retreat back to his gig, but paused. “A word of caution, Mr. Rawlins,” he said, turning back around. “Don’t get crushed by the size of your dreams.”

Aidan tilted his head inquiringly. “Meaning?”

“Exercising a bit of caution isn’t a bad thing,” Mr. Cole said.

He turned his gaze to the distance, where the mines had roared to life.

Steam donkeys sent up plumes into the air, and the spoil heap grew ever taller.

“I’ve seen enough ruined ambitious men to last a lifetime.

” His eyes, enlarged by his glasses, slid to regard Aidan seriously. “Set your sights modestly.”

“I’ll do that,” Aidan said, with no intention of it. He felt as tall as a mountain, his drive big enough to fill the sky. Virginia City was made for men like him, and he had no intention of making himself small to fit into a bureaucrat’s idea of humble success.

“Ugh, this heat today,” Mr. Cole said, wiping at his forehead. “I must find some shade.”

“Storm’s coming,” Aidan explained. “Gets awful still just before.”

Mr. Cole made a face. “I’d best be getting back to town, then.” He walked to his gig. Aidan waved him off, all congenial friendliness, and didn’t watch him go. He put his hands on his hips and stared out over the ranch.