Chapter Four
The afternoon sun hung low enough to cast long shadows across the ranch yard, but the heat still lingered stubbornly over the land.
Dust rose beneath Henry’s boots as he crossed from the barn toward the corral, a hammer tucked into his belt and a handful of fence staples clenched in one callused hand.
He had spent most of the day repairing storm-damaged fencing along the north pasture and was tired, hot, and more than ready to be finished.
The ranch seemed to require constant attention these days.
Every broken gate led to another repair. Every expense revealed two more waiting behind it. Some mornings, Henry felt as though he spent his life patching holes in a ship that insisted on sinking.
The familiar scent of horses drifted from the corral. Hay, leather, dust, and warm animal hide blended together in a way that had always felt like home.
Near the paddock, Lola stood beside her pony. Buttercup lowered her head contentedly while the little girl worked a brush through her chestnut coat. The pony’s tail flicked lazily against flies. A few strands of Lola’s dark hair had escaped their braid and clung to her flushed cheeks.
Henry slowed his steps. This version of Lola was easier to understand. Children remained something of a mystery to him, but horses made sense. And for whatever reason, horses seemed to bring out the best in his niece.
When she was around people, she often withdrew into herself. Conversations became brief. Emotions became guarded. Around horses, she transformed. She smiled and talked more. His sister had loved horses, too.
Lola glanced up as he approached. “Look how shiny she is.”
Henry examined the pony critically. “You missed a spot.”
The little girl gasped. “I did not.”
He pointed toward Buttercup’s shoulder. “There.”
Lola squinted, narrowing her eyes. “You’re making that up.”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Henry’s mouth. “Maybe.”
The little girl rolled her eyes dramatically and returned to brushing. For a few moments, they worked in comfortable silence. Henry checked a loose latch on the paddock gate while Lola chatted softly to the pony.
The sound of approaching hoofbeats eventually broke the quiet. Henry glanced toward the road to see his cousin coming into the yard with considerably less enthusiasm than usual.
That alone caught Henry’s attention. James was rarely serious. The man possessed an almost irritating ability to remain cheerful regardless of circumstance. Whether facing drought, poor cattle prices, or broken wagons, he generally approached life with a grin and a joke.
Today, however, his expression looked decidedly uncomfortable and Henry immediately became suspicious. What was more, he hadn’t seen his cousin since lunch. James removed his hat as he approached.
“Where have you been?” Henry asked. “I told you I needed your help with the fence this afternoon.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
James ran a hand through his hair and glanced toward the house, then toward Henry and back toward the house again. Henry frowned. “What is it?” he asked. “You’re looking as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
His cousin shifted his weight. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
That did not improve Henry’s mood. James only sounded this uneasy when he had done something particularly foolish and the way he was standing, with his arms folded and his head hanging, did not bode well.
“What did you do?”
“Now, before you get angry—”
Henry sighed heavily. “James.” His cousin winced and a sense of dread began to stir in the pit of Henry’s stomach. “James,” he repeated.
“All right, all right,” James muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He exhaled slowly. “Well, the thing is, I may have ordered you a mail-order bride.”
For several seconds, Henry simply stared. Surely he’d misheard. “What?”
James swallowed. “A few weeks ago,” he confessed. “Things were going real badly and I thought you needed some help around the place.”
Henry continued to stare at him, waiting for the punchline. None came. The reality settled slowly. “You did what?”
Lola stopped brushing. Buttercup lifted her head. The entire yard seemed to fall silent.
James held up both hands. “Hear me out—”
“What gave you the right?” Henry asked, his voice dangerously calm. James opened his mouth, but Henry didn’t let him answer. “What made you think you could interfere in my life like that?”
“You need help.”
“I didn’t ask for help,” he barked, throwing his hands up in frustration.
“The ranch is drowning,” James argued.
“I’m managing,” he said, between gritted teeth.
“Barely.”
The familiar argument surfaced once again, but now it felt infinitely worse. Henry stepped closer. “I told you no,” he snapped. “And still you went behind my back and did it anyway?”
“You never even considered it—”
“Because I don’t want a wife.”
The words echoed across the yard. A flock of blackbirds burst from a nearby tree.
James stood his ground. “Maybe you don’t,” he said. “But Lola needs more than either of us can give her.”
Nearby, Lola stood perfectly still, watching them as her fingers remained wrapped around Buttercup’s brush. After a moment, she spoke. “Are you getting married, Uncle Henry?”
Henry turned toward her. The little girl’s expression was hopeful and the sight caught him completely off guard. For an instant, all he saw was a child who had spent all these years without her parents, without a mother.
Yet, he couldn’t marry a woman he barely knew as a way to fix what was missing in Lola’s life. He couldn’t.
Lola lowered her eyes. “I was just asking.”
Henry cleared his throat. “No, Lola,” he said. “I am not getting married.”
Disappointment flickered across her face before she quickly hid it and the sight bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
He turned back toward James. “Write to her and tell her not to come.”
His cousin blinked. “Now, James.”
“Henry—”
“Tell her not to come,” he repeated firmly.
An unease crossed James’s face and a fresh wave of suspicion washed over Henry as his cousin exhaled heavily. “What?”
James stared at the ground and then back toward the house.
“Oh, no,” the words escaped Henry before he could stop them.
James winced. “Oh, yes.”
A terrible realization began forming. “When is she coming?”
His cousin hesitated. “Technically...”
Henry’s jaw tightened. “James.”
“… she arrived a little while ago.”
A beat of silence passed.
“What?”
James pointed toward the house. “She’s waiting for you.”
Henry turned automatically, his gaze following the direction of James’s hand. For a moment, he saw nothing. Then, he noticed the figure standing on the porch.
The woman stood near one of the wooden posts, one hand resting lightly against the railing as she watched the scene unfolding in the yard.
The afternoon sunlight illuminated her from behind, turning loose strands of chestnut brown hair to gold.
She was taller than most women, with a straight posture that suggested quiet strength rather than fragility.
Her simple traveling dress was dusty from the journey, and she carried herself with the weariness of someone who had come a long way.
Even from a distance, Henry could see she was beautiful.
Not in the polished, fashionable way some women in town were beautiful, with carefully arranged curls and dresses chosen to attract attention.
There was something quieter about her, but also loud in the way she held herself.
She stood straight despite the uncertainty of the situation.
Henry found himself noticing details he had no business noticing. The graceful line of her neck. The softness of her features. The way the breeze tugged loose strands of hair free from her braid.
Her eyes met his across the yard and for one suspended moment the sounds of the ranch seemed to fade around him. The creak of the windmill, the rustle of dry grass and the distant lowing of cattle. All of it disappeared.
Henry simply stood there staring at the stranger who was apparently supposed to become his wife. The only coherent thought that entered his mind was: what in Heaven’s name has James done now?