 
Learning to Love

Carson Hill Ranch: Book One

AMELIA ROSE

~~~

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 by Amelia Rose.

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

To YOU, The reader.

Thank you for your support.

Thank you for your emails.

Thank you for your reviews.

Thank you for reading and joining me on this road.

Contents

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

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#  Chapter one

"Get the rope! Get it cinched on there tight now!" Bernard Carson called from his usual post, elbows propped on the split rail fence, overseeing the process of his two youngest sons helping with the calving. At almost seventy years old, the head of the Carson family no longer helped with the day to day process of the ranch but where his body might be too give out to cowpunch, his mind was still as sharp as ever.

"Got it, Dad," his youngest son called back, using his father's ancestral term of endearment. Jacob pulled the rope tight on the emerging calf's hind legs, pulling gently to help the heifer along with the birth of another head of prized cattle.

Bernard twitched his hands against the wooden rail, wanting desperately to leap the fence and get in on the day-to-day work of ranching. It was one small part of what had drawn him to this open land in the first place, the opportunity to stake out a claim of land under an immense sky that stretched on forever, filling that land with thousands of head of cattle, and making the trek north with them year after year. It was what the cowboys of the Old West had done, and the connection he felt to them and their old ways was never more powerful than when he went about his work under the immense sky.

Sure, some things had changed since then. The telegraph was gone and his ranch hands now carried satellite phones on their hips where cowpokes once carried revolvers. The plows pulled by oxen had been replaced by industrial tractors with enclosed, air conditioned cabs. The wagon train that moved a herd across thousands of miles of open, untouched land had been replaced with vehicles driven in shifts.

But just as much as things changed, sometimes, things stayed the same, like the amazement of a calf being brought into the world, made even more amazing by watching his youngest sons go to work.

Seamus tied off the rope with a slip knot against the post in the middle of the fence, ensuring that it would hold throughout the birthing but would cut loose in a moment if the mother was in distress. It was surprising his father was letting the two of them take this on considering how much was invested in this tiny, slippery calf. If it was a female, it would mean up to two dozen other calves in its lifetime. If it was a bull, that number would be tenfold. Every second counted to make sure that whatever price it would fetch, it happened intact.

Finally, the tiny creature—well, tiny for a cow—popped out into the open, its eyes opening and closing in shock at the bright sunlight and stark change in temperature. Jacob reached for it with the burlap outstretched but Bernard intervened.

"Leave her to it, son, she knows what she's doing. This is her first time, but it's an instinct," he called, amused at the way his two nearly grown sons, young men who could take on just about anything the frontier threw at them, were as giddy as new fathers themselves over the new member of the ranch and the miracle they had just taken part in. And he was right. The mother, unfazed by the difficult process she'd just endured, turned her massive head to her newborn calf and began to lick, warming it and comforting it. Jacob and Seamus joined their father at the fence rail and leapt the shoulder-height fence with a quick climb.

"I see it a hundred times a year and it amazes me every time," Bernard said, gazing at the animals with admiration. "You did good, boys. It's a proud thing to watch your own sons take on at the ranch." The three cowboys, two fresh-faced and excited, one seasoned and respected, watched the animals in silence for a moment before turning toward the house, dusting their hands in the sawdust then brushing the grime from their leather coveralls as they went.

Bernard left Jacob and Seamus to clean up in the tack room adjacent to the barn and went into the main house. Walking into the foyer of the grand house never failed to leave him a little cold, feeling for the hundredth time the pang of loss of his wife, Margaret. She had been a true lady, even out here on the farm, and had always kept their home as a lady would. It had been only ten years since he'd lost her, dying shortly after the difficult birth of the last child to follow Seamus and Jacob, but it still hurt as though she had passed only yesterday.

These days, her home was nowhere near as grand. It was far from in shambles, but it lacked the womanly touch she'd always brought to it. The silver bowls she'd brought from the city when she came to this ranch as a new wife once held flower blooms she cut herself every morning from her garden, a task she wouldn't even leave to the hired help. Instead, it was normal to find a random collection of items in her silver, things men would leave lying around a ranch: a bowie knife, a wad of twine, a spur that needed repair, or some rusted nails.

_We need a woman around the place to make this a home again,_ Bernard thought wistfully, his mind immediately going to any of the six very eligible sons he had living on the ranch. Apart from the younger twins, there were a set of older twins as well, with two single brothers born in between. All of them were eligible to start looking, what with the older twins, Carey and Casey, being twenty-two for most of a year now. The trouble was the same problem they had with the cattle: eligible mates had to be found elsewhere.

Part of why Carson Hill Ranch was known for producing the best herd was because Bernard had learned from his own family's farming traditions that dated all the way back to his ancestors from Belgium. But whether it was sheep in the foothills of the Alps or steer in the Texas plains, one thing about these animals was universal, and that was the need to bring in outside mates from time to time to ensure a strong stock.

_Look at me, calling the future mothers of my grandchildren "stock,"_ the old man thought with some measure of disbelief. _Maybe I've been at this too long._

"So, Dad, how'd the boys do?" Joseph asked, coming up behind his father and patting him on the shoulder. "That last calf came out okay?"

"Sure did, the boys made proud work of it. But where are your older brothers? Shouldn't they have been around for this?" Bernard asked, his impatience showing on that last word. Unlike his sons, who'd grown up among the hired hands from the area and gone to school with some of the local kids, Bernard had spent his entire life on this ranch, even being schooled at home alongside the children of the ranch hands. By the time Bernard had inherited the ranch and began thinking of having a family, he had been some twenty years older than his somewhat younger wife. The two of them had been happy to stay isolated on the ranch, so much so, that some days, Bernard felt as out of place on his own land because of the generation gap he felt all around him.

"They should still be working on that fence, if I'm not mistaken. We finally found the hole yesterday, and they were out before breakfast this morning to get to it before we have any more cows wander off."

"And you didn't help your brothers?" the old man asked, a teasing tone in his voice even as he prodded one of his two middle sons.

Joseph laughed. "I knew you were gonna say something about it! No, I've been out with one of the foremen all day, baiting for coyote." His father's face darkened. "I know, I know, you don't have to say anything. But I'm sorry, Dad, it has to be done."

Bernard had never understood the need to kill a weaker animal by luring it to its death. Taking out an aggressive scavenger that came onto your property was one thing, but actively bringing them to the land so they can die in pain, just to save a few cattle? That was more than he liked to think about.

"You know how I feel about it. I suppose this is why I have foremen, to make these decisions for me. But I don't have to like it and you don't have to brag about it," Bernard admonished.

"Yes, Dad," Joseph said, dropping his head a little. He hated to disappoint his father, but the coyotes had been coming to the ranch more and more frequently because of the lack of rain this past season, following the smaller prairie animals that came for the storehouses. But instead of catching the smaller animals, they ran the cattle to death instinctively. "But it would be different if they came and took out an old or sick cow once in a while because they needed the food. They don't even eat it. They just chase one until she dies, choking on her own tongue from exhaustion and fear. If you feel this sorry for a lousy coyote, try feeling sorry for the herd. That has to be a horrible way to die, especially when it's for nothing."

"Of course, you're right, my son," Bernard sighed. "But when you get to be my age, you don't like to think of anything dying. It's too close to home!" Joseph shook his head.

"Now we're not having that talk, Dad. You're not going anywhere, and neither are the rest of us. When I see the others, I'll tell 'em you're looking for 'em." He clapped his father on the back in farewell and headed back out to the stable to see to his horse.

#  Chapter two

"Ah! There you are, boys!" Bernard called from his office as Carey and Casey passed by. "Come in here, I want to speak with you!"

Casey dropped his shoulders in defeat, but Carey nudged him sharply with his elbow, reminding him to straighten up. It had been a long, hot day and the heat hadn't let up in the slightest, even though the sun was nearly below the horizon. This is the time of day that even showering off in one of the dozen shower stalls in the washroom didn't cool a man off any, no matter how cold the temperature of the natural spring-fed water. Casey straightened and put on a smile for his dad.

"What is it, Dad?" Carey asked, always the polite one, the one who remembered to think of a lonely old man, even after a day of labor.

"Come, come. Sit in here. I was thinking today about the ranch and we need to have a meeting." Bernard stepped over to one of the wingback chairs near the fireplace, a fireplace that hadn't needed to be warmed since last winter but that still served as an unofficial forum for conducting ranch business. Casey shot his brother a look, imploring him to get them out of this quickly. Instead, Carey took the seat directly across from his father and leaned close, ready to hear what the old man had to say. Casey sighed quietly in defeat but not quietly enough for Carey, who shot him a warning glance. Casey lowered himself onto a thread-worn flowered sofa and stretched out.

"So, my sons, I was thinking today...about your mother." Casey sat up straighter and Carey bit his lower lip.

"What about her, Dad?"

"I was thinking that we need to have a feminine influence here." Bernard interlaced his fingers in his lap and waited. Carey and Casey exchanged worried looks before Carey jumped up from his chair and reached for his father's arm.

"That's fantastic news, Dad! I didn't even know you'd been looking for a wife! When will she get here? She won't expect us to call her Mom, will she?" Carey asked, a little too eagerly. Bernard looked at him in wide eyed shock before breaking out in a robust laugh, its sound echoing from the high exposed rafters above them.

"No! No, son, not me. I'm too old for that kind of thing! Who would have a man my age?" He laughed some more before taking a deep breath and continuing. "It's you who need to find a wife, you and your brother here."

Casey got up from the sofa and peered at his father. "A wife? What? And just how do you propose we do that, sign up for an online dating service?" he demanded. Carey punched him in the shoulder, reminding him to be respectful. Casey cleared his throat and remembered himself. "In case you haven't noticed, we're not exactly swimming in eligible, hot girls around here. Seriously, Dad, are we supposed to put an ad in a newspaper somewhere? That's how you find stud cattle for the herd, not a human being."

"Go ahead and laugh, smart guy, but it was a perfectly sufficient way for your ancestors to meet their wives, if I do say so myself. Girls came from the east by train back then, sight unseen, and showed up on the frontier to get married!" Bernard sat up taller and bristled somewhat angrily at the insinuation that going looking for a wife was not good enough for his sons. "And as a matter of fact, online dating is all the rage. I do watch the news, you know." Carey and Casey looked first at their father and then at each other before racing to their father's desk and peeking at his computer screen to make sure he hadn't posted their info and made profiles for them somewhere. Their faces fell when they saw he'd been on the lesser known Internet dating site, CowboyLove.com, and had created profiles for each of them.

"Wanted..." Carey began reading.

"That's wonderful," Casey interrupted. "Right away, they're going to think we're trying to find a criminal, not a bride."

"Hush, you," Carey hissed before turning back to their father's handiwork. "Wanted, brides for the Carson Hill Ranch. Good stock, willing to breed--" Casey made an exasperated sound low in his chest, his face flushing from embarrassment, "—able to endure the winters with the drive. Must be willing to accompany the herd..."

"I added that part in especially for you," Bernard added, very pleased with his foresight. "I remember being so lonely on the drives after leaving your mother back here at the ranch. A good wife would go with her husband as he drives the cattle. She could cook for everyone, right? But your mother was always taking care of you boys, and she wouldn't leave you at the ranch, no matter how many local women I offered to hire to care for you." Casey shook his head slowly, still shocked and dumbfounded that his dad was doing this. It had to be a joke. There was no way this was real.

"Dad, this is so..." Carey began, his voice trailing off as he realized he couldn't find the words to finish his own thought.

"Stupid?" Casey muttered under his breath, in a voice he was sure could not be heard by his elderly father.

"Thoughtful!" Carey said too loudly, sending a message to Casey that he hoped his brother got, once and for all. "But I'm not sure this is the best way to find a wife. Maybe next year, when we drive the herd to Wyoming, we can talk to some people, maybe ask around and see if any of the families we know can recommend someone to us. But you can't just order a wife from the Internet the way we order plow blades from a catalog. And you certainly can't expect her to come all the way out here just to...make babies."

"But of course you can! Look! I see it right here!" Bernard got up and came over to the desk, clicking the mouse a few times to open some bookmarks he'd saved. "See? These women want to make a new start, a fresh start out in the wide open!"

"That's because they've been to prison, Dad. That's what they mean by a 'fresh start.' They want to move where no one knows about their past!" Carey argued.

"Carey," Casey warned in a low voice, "do something about this. I am not going to be bred like one of Dad's old cows!"

"My sons, sit back down and listen to me," Bernard began. Casey fought to maintain his composure, both from wanting to wash off the dirt from a long, hot day and finally eat a good meal, and from the prospect that his father had been posting information about him on the Internet like a pimp and wanted to talk about it. The last thing on his mind was listening to his father's grand plans for matchmaking. "When my ancestors first came to Texas, it took many, many weeks of travel. First, there was a whole ocean to cross, then there was almost an entire continent to cross, too. They arrived to find it was an empty place that filled men with empty feelings. It's still a wonder to me to look out and see forever, to see so many stars, where all my relatives used to see was the little bit of sky that wasn't hidden by the mountains around their village."

"But after such a long time to make it to their new home, the first Carson to try to stake a homestead claim had only been here for a short time before he knew this land fulfilled him in a way that the mountains never could. Here, he was a man who owned the very ground we walk on today. The Carson family ranching empire started with a small herd of only three cows and over the years, each generation built that herd into everything you see today. Now, I have a ranch that goes on for sixty miles in all directions, and a home with room enough for fifty men. What I don't have is someone to share it with me, to stand on the edge of my land and let me say to her, 'This is what my people built, and I share it with you.' You might think working the ranch is all there is and for right now, maybe you're right. But there will come a day when you want to look back and know you built something more than just a ranch. You'll want to know that you built a life."

The boys stood quietly, absorbing their father's heartfelt words. Losing their mother had been hard on them when they were young, but they barely remembered her. It was their father who had known her for much longer, who had finally found someone to share his life with after so long.

"When I found your mama, there was no Internet dating that you sneered at," Bernard said, flipping his hand in the direction of the computer to reflect their disgust with it. "She came here because, like me, she wanted to be a part of something that could be all hers. Your mama wasn't from the country, she moved here from a city, a loud and dirty place where no man, woman, or child could really breathe. Coming to this ranch for her was like being alive for the first time in her life. And yes, she and I took a long time to meet each other and get to know one another, but affection grows with time. You find a woman with the qualities that are important to you, and you treat her with the respect that is due to the person who gives you your children, and everything else will take care of itself. That is the way to happiness, my sons."

Carey coughed awkwardly, humbled by hearing his father say more words at once than he often spoke all day, words that were filled with an undercurrent of longing for something he had lost. "Well, Dad, you know best. Go ahead and submit those profiles, and we'll just see what kind of response we get, right?" He cringed at the thought of a woman showing up at the ranch, the kind of sturdy, grizzled woman who would be willing to even consider signing on for the life of a ranch wife, especially one who would come all this way with marriage on her mind. He couldn't bring himself to envision it but he couldn't argue with his father either, especially when Dad was apparently only thinking of them.

Bernard dismissed his oldest sons with a nod, patting them on their work-hardened shoulders as they turned to go. They didn't make it far before muffled laughter rolled down the staircase.

"You two look like you've seen a ghost!" one of their foremen, Jack, called out as he came down the last few steps. "Lemme guess, the old man had 'that talk' with you two? So you two are finally men now?" He leered at his own joke, enjoying the look of absolute embarrassment on Carey's face and utter humiliation on Casey's.

"Real smooth, Jack. And try to remember that the 'old man' is my father and your employer. Do you make it a habit to eavesdrop outside my father's office when he's conducting business?" Casey demanded, stepping up to stand face-to-face with Jack so quickly, Carey barely had time to put a hand out and pull him back. Jack only laughed harder.

"I sure do, 'specially when that business is about somebody getting to dip his wick in a pretty young girl. If we get any good offers from that Internet site of your dad's, maybe they'll be plenty to go around. I won't have to go visiting those strung-out, puny local girls if I had a wife of my own." He laughed as Casey lunged at him again, only to be held back by his brother. He turned to head back to the shacks that dotted the western edge of the property, his sickening laugh still sounding around them as he went.

"I can't tell you how much I hate that man. Good people get thrown off their horses or run over by tractors every damn day. Why can't he hurry up and do us all a favor, and get his brains kicked in?" Casey seethed.

"You don't mean that. Sure, he's a horse's ass, but he can get ten thousand cattle from here to Wyoming without losing more than a handful. That says something about the man. Besides, he's been with Dad for longer than we've been alive. That must say something for him."

"Yeah, it says it's time for him to go. He'll be one of the first ones to be sent walking out on the prairie without so much as a dried up biscuit in his pail when we finally run this ranch."

"Well, hopefully, that day is a long time from now. Speaking of biscuits, I'm so hungry my stomach thinks my throat's been cut. C'mon, let's wash up and see what the kitchen staff has for us." Carey put one arm around his twin's shoulders and led him to the back porch to the water stalls.

#  Chapter three

"So, I hear we've got some love birds out on the ranch," Emma said under her breath to Dee as they leaned against the corner of the brick bar, supposedly to entice men to come in. The sad handful of men who'd already been lured inside were either too broke or too drunk on whatever Crazy Mack passed off as whiskey to pay any attention to a couple of skinny working girls waiting outside.

"What are you talking about?" Dee whispered back, a pathetic smile that was supposed to make her look alluring plastered across her face.

"Jack was in here two weeks ago for his usual," she said, rolling her eyes and making a face. "and he said the old man at Carson Hill Ranch was advertising for wives for his sons."

"Really? Which sons are getting married?" Dee asked, forgetting to pretend they weren't having a conversation. Crazy Mack banged on the large front window of the bar with the thick plank of wood he kept handy for breaking up late night brawls, pointing a black-nailed finger at the girls and gesturing for them to knock it off.

"Does it matter?" Emma answered after Crazy Mack went back to wiping shot glasses with the hem of his shirt. "Have you ever seen all of 'em up close? When they stand together, the six of them make you think you're seeing paradise. I'm just saying, they don't make 'em ugly at Carson Hill, if you know what I mean."

"I ain't never seen any of 'em up close, just when they come through town to do some shopping. By damn, I'd marry one of the little boys if it would get me the hell outta here," Dee promised with a surly glance in Mack's direction.

"Well, I don't know about 'little.' The youngest ones have to be getting big by now. The preacher told me last week that Old Man Carson's wife's been gone for at least ten years."

"When have you been speaking with the pastor, Miss Church on Sunday?" Dee teased, purposefully bumping into Emma with her hip as they danced for a small cluster of workmen who'd just stepped off the bus from the fertilizer factory.

"That's between me and his money," Emma said with a knowing look.

"Well, if they're the two boys I'm thinking of, they're a good bit older than twelve. Even if they're only boys, I wouldn't mind teaching them a thing or two," Dee hinted. "Every boy needs a good teacher, am I right?"

"Don't even think about it," Emma warned her. "The Carsons don't come in here. Their father would skin them alive and you know it."

"Well, then maybe I need to go out to the ranch and see what all this marrying business is about. I could see myself as a rancher's wife, especially on a place as big as Carson Hill," Dee said haughtily.

"Of course you could. You could teach everyone on the place all about mating!" Emma said with a good-hearted snicker. Crazy Mack banged on the window again. "Of course, getting away from this one would be rough. He ain't gonna let you go without making you sorry."

"Honey, he's been making me sorry ever since I stepped off the bus. I knew this part of the state was still a dangerous place, but I sure never thought I'd end up hiking up my skirts for sweaty factory guys and ranch hands for thirty bucks a pop, and that's before Mack takes his portion. I been doin' this so long, it's a wonder I haven't died of something nasty."

"Yeah, and that 'nasty' is what's gonna keep you off the Carson ranch. They're so high-and-mighty, they wouldn't spit on you if you caught fire right in front of their eyes." Emma continued dancing, turning toward the man who stepped into the shady bar, hoping to catch his interest. She lowered the strap on the flimsy cotton tank top she wore to advertise what she had to offer, but it was a sad state of costume as Mack was too cheap to even send for halfway decent clothes for the two working girls he owned.

"There's no damn sense in paying for fine clothes for these filthy jerks to leave their stinking stains all over 'em," he'd once said, ordering the girls back to their rooms above the bar when they'd asked about having decent clothes. "Besides, they ain't interested in what you're wearing, they want what you're hiding underneath."

Emma and Dee let their minds wander to what living on Carson Hill Ranch could have been like if they'd answered an ad for a bride from a dating site instead of falling for the Craigslist ad for waitresses and bar dancers, speculating quietly about husbands and children, clothes, and a home of their own.

+++

Casey turned off the ignition on the pickup truck and slid out to untie the heavy bundles tied down along the sides of the truck bed. He hefted them onto his shoulder and went into the local store, pushing the door open with the toe of one weathered boot.

"Morning, Casey," Samuel Peterson called out from on top of a ladder leaned against the high shelves that kept all of his stock off the ground and away from the dust that constantly seeped under the door. "What can I do for you today?"

"I brought some more hides from the last round of slaughter," he answered cheerfully, lowering the two bundles to the floor in front of the counter. "We can take credit to trade for a few things, or cash, whichever's easier for you."

"Of course, let me just grab these things and I'll get my book." He returned to his work and left Casey to wander among the shelves while waiting for the store owner to finish his business. Sam operated one of the last bastions of the Old West, something that looked very much like the great-great-grandchild of the old mercantiles. He sold a little bit of everything, both farm tools and makeup, but also operated a great online business in trading. Sam would take the hides of the Carsons' hands, and find a buyer in the leather market, while keeping a little commission for his time.

Casey's eyes gravitated toward the small rack of irritatingly feminine shoes, some gleaming in different colors and with ludicrous high heels, and he shook his head, wondering how much of that useless stuff Peterson ever managed to sell. Any woman who arrived in these parts would need sturdy boots and clothes that could take the punishment of everyday life, a life that would mean tanning hides, growing vegetables, and feeding the crew of kids that every farm needed. Living out here was a daily effort to survive—economically, that is, not life or death like in the olden days—even for a family as well-off as the Carsons.

The shoes made him think of his mother for some reason, and the talk his dad had had with him almost a month ago. Casey didn't remember much about his mother, other than that she always smelled nice and had soft hands. _The memory of her couldn't be right,_ he thought. _Because no woman could have made a home for her family out here and kept her hands so soft._ Those hands would have been bandaged because of the nearly daily wounds of the hired help and the six boys who ran wild on the farm, cooked four meals a day for nearly thirty hard-working men, and washed the clothes of an entire army of ranchers who would have been hell-bent on rolling in any patch of dirt they could find when working the cattle.

But somehow, that's what he remembered about her. Even more than her face or her voice, he remembered a sweet lilac smell and a soft touch to her hands. Somehow, it was hard to reconcile the same woman who had fancy dishes and floral-printed sofas put in at the ranch house to being the same kind of woman who would have helped his father build up the Carson property into what it is today.

"Let's take a look, Casey," Samuel said behind him, jarring him from his usually forgotten thoughts. Casey turned and untied the hides, laying each one out on the weathered countertop as Samuel slid his laptop over to the counter. Samuel measured each one as Casey unrolled them, recording the different thicknesses and measurements in a spreadsheet in his computer. He offered a more than fair price for the hides, holding out a rubber-banded ledger book for Casey to sign his name. Even with high-tech equipment and online trading, a man's signature was the most important part of the deal, and Casey liked it that way.

After giving Samuel his list of supplies and watching as the store owner tabulated the trade, he marked how much credit the Carsons would have in the shop for the next time they came into town for supplies. Samuel helped him load the household items into his sacks and secure them in the back of Casey's truck, putting a hand on the door handle when Casey started the ignition.

"Wait, there's mail for you," he said, waving his hands at almost forgetting. He dashed into the side room of the store that served as the small town's post office and came back with a small bundle, handing it through the open window to Casey and watching as the cowboy tossed it on the cracked upholstery of the passenger seat. "Sorry, I couldn't help but notice when it came in there's a flyer announcing an auction just east of here. Didn't know if your family might be interested in bringing in a new breed at your place."

"Hmm, sounds interesting. Did they say how many head?"

"I can't remember now," the gray-haired man said, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt. "I want to say it was somewhere around two hundred head of redback and one hundred head of stroud. The owner up and moved away after they foreclosed on some of his property, and didn't leave any kind of forwarding address. Someone has to buy 'em up quick or they're gonna starve in the pasture once the grass is gone. And you know all the milking heifers are drying up, what with no one doing the milking. Animal control has been going out once a week and checking on 'em, making sure they have fresh water and stuff like that, but now they're state property. It's a shame that it's just going to waste, but that's the way of it here when the money runs out."

Casey nodded thoughtfully. _Good thing the Carson ranch was overrun with family and ranch hands,_ he thought to himself. With a wave, he put the truck in gear, then turned in the direction of the ranch and settled in for the one hour ride over unpaved, packed dirt and grass, looking above the visor of the truck to make sure his gun was in its holder, in case he needed it during the trek.

#  Chapter four

"Dad, I received this announcement in the mail when I went into town today," Casey said, holding out the crudely printed paper with information on the upcoming auction. He pointed to the list of livestock and farm tools, making a special note of the spools of fencing. Apparently, the owner had acquired a few hundred additional acres and was readying the extra parcel for pasturing when the money ran out. That was the shame of it out here, a lot of newbies came along thinking farm life would equal a simpler, less stressful time, but every rancher knew that any family was always one solid drought away from losing everything they had. "That fencing will come in handy, especially if the river keeps coming up over the banks and taking out the posts. I was thinking we could move our current fence to the other side of it, away from the water's edge, and build a support that would keep the herd from getting out through the water. We'd have to build it up some, but we'd spend far less time building fences than we'd spend fixing them."

Anders, Casey's other middle brother, looked up from his computer and took off his glasses, nodding at Casey's logic and looking to Dad for approval. Anders had been born small and stayed indoors most of the time, but that made him an excellent ranch manager. None of the others minded having the fourth son learning to run the vast farm, not when there was physical work to be done that he couldn't do. Everyone contributed on a ranch, and this was Anders' strong suit.

"I would ordinarily say it sounds like a fine idea, but I can't say that now," Bernard stated. He looked to Anders, who looked at Casey before quickly ducking his head back into his numbers, recording the transaction Casey had made in town that day and mostly busying himself with anything but the conversation at hand.

"What's wrong with their stock, Dad? I know we've never raised stroud before, but it could be a good mix. I heard in town that they're a long-haired breed, not really suited well for Texas, but if we introduce them into our herd, they might make our stock hardier for winters up north. We could sell a better animal at a higher price if the farmers up there knew these were bred with something that tolerated the winter well."

"Yes, you make an excellent point, son. But I meant that the auction will not be going as planned. A buyer has come in and taken the whole parcel, the land, house, equipment, and the stock."

"Oh," Casey answered, not surprised as news of the auction was at least a month old. "That changes things."

"Not so very much, it doesn't. We could still establish the breed with this other farm. That parcel is only two miles from the edge of our northern boundary line," Bernard continued, "and I do expect to have a good relationship with that ranch, once the buyer moves in."

"Well, we can hope for the best but snatching up entire lots of land tends to make men greedy out here. I'd be more worried that this new owner might be just another idealistic new guy or some hippie who thinks he's going to sit around on his porch and eat free-range chicken eggs all day. With our luck, he's going to be another pseudo-environmentalist who thinks we shouldn't raise cattle because meat's deadly and their farts destroy the ozone layer or something. Besides, if there's a route through that parcel we can take when we drive the cattle north, he may want to charge us some hefty fees for passing through," Casey continued, a worried frown creasing his sun-browned features. Bernard only smiled.

"Yes, I would fear the same thing, if I didn't know the owner so well," he continued, his eyes dancing as he smiled. Casey looked from his father to Anders once again, bemused when his younger brother suddenly snapped his laptop closed and fled from the room with it, his pencil still in hand. Casey stared after him before turning a wary eye on his father, but Bernard only laughed. "Yes! I've bought the ranch! For you and your wife!"

Casey's shoulders sagged in defeat as his father opened this wound again. "What are you talking about, Dad?"

"This! This came today! The answer to the ad! I bought the land the same day I submitted your dating profile," Bernard explained as he pointed to an open email on his screen. Casey looked at the screen and rolled his eyes at the swirly font and formal greeting.

"Dad, any woman who writes like this isn't fit for the ranch. She's practically writing a poem, going on and on about the 'wondrous landscape of the frontier' and the 'challenges that seem insurmountable but can only be overcome by man's natural desire for exploration.' Is she writing a book, or answering an ad for a ranch wife?" Casey closed out the email and turned to him with his hands on his hips, readying himself for battle against his father's matchmaking.

"So we help her be fit for the ranch, both her husband," Bernard gestured to Casey, who threw up his hands in defeat, "and the staff of the ranch. It's not like there are no women here, women who can show her what needs to be done. They'll help her learn. She is obviously very smart and well-educated..."

"...which means she'll be useless the first time she has to boil down lard and smear it on a maggot-infested hindquarter..."

"...and eager to see the land. She sounds exactly like the kind of daughter I need here to make this place a home again and to make sure we don't lose this ranch in an auction on the day the last of us dies in our beds." Bernard was no longer laughing but rather, reminding Casey of the reason the neighboring property became available. "This ranch is my legacy to my sons, but what will you do without someone to leave it to? Will you have it broken up on the auction block and sold off in pieces to the highest bidder? Like a scrawny cow that can no longer give and is going to be someone's dinner?"

Casey didn't answer. Passing on the ranch someday to children of his own was something he instinctively knew he would do, but at the moment he was too busy doing the work of the ranch to think about the future of the ranch. With fences breaking daily, cattle to feed and repasture twice a day, and a staff of dozens to oversee, there simply wasn't time for giving any thought to dating, no matter how eager his father had been to sign him up online.

"But what about Carey?" Casey asked in a voice that sounded dangerously close to whining. "How come he doesn't have to get married?"

"Don't worry, his day will come next. There's been a ton of replies to both of your profiles, but this is just the first one that I feel good about, or at least good enough to bring out here for you to meet." Bernard took his silence to mean agreement. "Wonderful! I will send a reply right away and invite her down here. We'll need to get to work constructing a small house until you two are actually married, it's only polite..."

"Why do we have to build her a house? She can stay in one of the rooms upstairs," Casey argued, already envisioning a plan in which she hated ranch life so much that she fled.

"Oh, she will stay in an upstairs room. It is you who have to live outside. It's only fitting. We'll give her the terrace room that adjoins the one beside it, in case she wants to have friends come visit and see her new home." Bernard continued muttering to himself over the preparations as Casey stared after him in horror.

_I'm moving out?_ he thought miserably, shaking his head.

#  Chapter five

"Excuse me? Aren't you getting off in Hale?" the bus driver asked, tapping the young woman on the shoulder. She opened her eyes, startled for a moment by the bright light coming through the grimy bus window. Gracie snored softly with her head on Miranda's shoulder, the younger girl's curls having long escaped their ability to stay put in their ponytail over the four days of travel from Newark. It took her a moment to remember where she was and, more importantly, why.

"Yes, oh, thank you. I must have dozed off," Miranda explained, thanking the old driver.. She let her head fall back against the seat, hesitating to wake Gracie. It had been so difficult to get any rest, let alone privacy, during their trip west, she didn't even mind her younger sister's assumption that she could use her as a pillow. If Miranda's ex-boyfriend had seen this level of sisterly love, there would have been more than a few ugly words and a lot of yelling. He had done his very best to isolate Miranda from her family but when her mother died and Gracie had to have a place to stay, it only made things worse. Now that Miranda and Gracie were alone in the world, just the two of them, she couldn't afford to risk losing a kind soul any more than she could refuse to breathe.

She tried to stretch her cramped limbs without jostling Gracie, but it didn't work. The girl snapped to attention, sitting bolt upright at the realization that she had just been napping on her poor sister. Her cheeks flushed pink as she stole a sideways glance at Miranda.

"Don't worry, Gracie, you couldn't help yourself. I'm sure I was so tired, I didn't notice myself," Miranda said, patting the girl's hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

The trip from the east had started well enough, with Miranda and Gracie taking a train first, one that had reclining seats, a snack bar, wifi, and more. Eventually, the train took them as far as they could go, and the bus trip leg of the journey began. The buses were cramped and smelly but even worse, they stopped in every single town between Chicago and Texas.

Now, her new home in Hale, Texas, awaited her, along with any number of new experiences. Miranda had found the email response one day, not knowing Gracie had signed her up for an Internet dating site. Gracie had even reached out to a number of prospects who the younger girl had romantically thought were promising, pretending to be Miranda. After she got over her anger at being tricked, and got over her fear that her ex would find out and lash out at her, she began to read the responses, first for the laugh but later, for the escape. It's not like she ever in a million years thought about actually contacting one of these lonely cowboys, but it was pleasant to let herself daydream for a few stolen minutes.

After Gracie had to come live with her, the trouble began. Her asshole ex-boyfriend, Mike, was jealous the instant she showed up, complaining every time Miranda did something for the poor, now-orphaned girl. Even taking off work to go register her for school had pissed him off so much, he'd shoved her to the floor, stopping just short of actually hitting her this time because Gracie was now standing there, witnessing it all.

_That's what he really resented,_ Miranda thought sadly, remembering how horrible the last two years of her life had been. _He hated having a witness around stopping him from taking everything out on me._

That's when the idea of answering one of these emails first came to mind. She had to do something to get away, but had no idea of how. Mike controlled everything, her bank account, her car, even her cell phone, and he liked it that way. It was how he could make sure she stuck around. But the night she woke up to Gracie protesting, her cries coming through the wall from where she slept on the couch as Mike... she wouldn't think about that right now.

"Do you know how much longer it will be?" Gracie asked in her soft spoken voice, peering out the windows as though the answer was posted somewhere on the landscape.

"Not with any real certainty, but the driver woke me up because the next stop is ours. It wouldn't be too much longer, I think." She smiled reassuringly at her sister, hopeful that her own confidence would influence Gracie, who had not wholly embraced the idea of living out West. She had only agreed to take part in this under the agreement that if it wasn't to her liking, they would split, heading to who knows where, but that they would do it together. Miranda had begged her to give it half a year at least before deciding whether or not she could live on the ranch, and even that took calling upon every ounce of loyalty Gracie felt for her big sister.

"Is it true that we'll get to eat our meals outside, sitting on the ground beside a fire?" Gracie asked, her fears now replaced by the rumors she'd heard or stories she'd read in books back home.

"I don't see why that would be true. This is the 21st century, you know. But even if it is, I'm sure it's only for special occasions or when there's some kind of cowboy thing going on. Wouldn't that be an adventure?" she asked with an excited twinkle in her eye. Miranda did her best to be a source of comfort to the girl, one who had never ventured outside the city and had already been through so much. She could only imagine what fears were coursing through Gracie's mind.

Miranda felt the bus begin to slow, telling her the driver had been right. The dull feeling she'd had inside her about this trip was gone now, replaced, for the first time since reading the ad, by waves of nervousness. What was this town going to be like? More importantly, what was this guy going to be like? All of his emails said he'd wanted to date for a short time and that he was ready to marry the right woman. Miranda had been impressed with his conversations, with the adoring way he wrote and asked about things going on in her own life. But she knew from experience that sweet talking was easy to come by and that it was a favorite tool for some guys to get what they wanted.

She couldn't be sure if she was arguing with herself, or trying to convince herself. Miranda had berated herself more than once for sneaking away like she did, but it wasn't because she wasn't entitled to leave. She wasn't exactly on the run from the law but the less Mike knew about her whereabouts, the better. It was sufficient to say she hadn't left things on a good note, if the Louisville slugger she'd beaten him with was any indication.

_My own choice of a stranger is better than any choice I've made so far,_ she reminded herself, repeating the mantra that had kept her steeled and her head held high during this long trip west. She squared her shoulders and looked across the sea of tired, grumpy passengers taking up residence in the Greyhound, her eyes never wavering from the door that would take her off this bus and into a new life, and into the arms of a husband of her own choosing.

#  Chapter six

"Are you sure you read the email right, Miranda?" Gracie asked, for what had to have been the fourth time. "And the date's correct?"

"Yes, Gracie," Miranda replied once again, forcing herself to remember to speak nicely. Here they were, in the infamous West for only a matter of hours, and already her sister was getting on her nerves, peppering her with questions when she was already nervous. "I've spoken with the guy in the bus station, remember? He told me this was the correct day and we were on the correct bus. Whoever was supposed to pick us up from the station is just late." She continued to fan herself forcefully, wishing more than anything that she could take off her thick overcoat to get some relief from the unbelievable heat, but what kind of first impression would that make if she showed up dirty and stained from the bus ride? She had chosen this outfit specifically because not only did it look pretty, but it also looked responsible and powerful. It was an outfit that said, "I've taken all the crap I plan to take from people, so don't even start." So she sat to wait.

And wait. More than once, Miranda entertained the idea of going into one of the two buildings closest to the fairly good-sized station, as one was clearly a shop of some kind and the other looked to be some sort of restaurant. But looking at the patrons leaving the shop loaded down with fifty pound sacks of feed, she wasn't sure that she wouldn't be in the way. That left the restaurant.

"Let's go, Gracie. We can get something to eat and at least get out of this heat and into the shade." Miranda walked ahead of Gracie, after asking the guy behind the counter in the bus station if he would guard their suitcases, leaving her teenaged sister to scamper after her. It only took a moment to realize their mistake.

As the two ladies pushed open the half-door and stepped into the darkened tavern, Miranda immediately threw one delicately gloved hand over Gracie's eyes, pinning the girl's head to her own chest to prevent her from seeing the display taking place inside. Not only were half the men wearing barely more than undershirts hanging out of filthy, ill-cut pants, but two sad-looking girls—no doubt around Gracie's age—were doing what could only pass for dancing in this town as the unwashed, undressed men stared on. That alone was bad enough, but the fact that the girls had on almost no clothing, their bare breasts on display as the men leered, was horrifying.

Miranda wasted no time in turning them around and barreling out the door, letting it slam shut on its rusty spring without caring for the fine fabric of her power outfit. Gracie blinked at the harsh sunlight when Miranda released her eyes, then visibly shuddered.

"What kind of place is this?" she asked quietly. "Are those girls all right?"

"Yes, Gracie, I'm very sorry you saw that. Believe it or not, those girls have chosen to work here. At least, I hope they've chosen to." Miranda pulled herself up to her usual formal posture and turned on her heel, eager to put as much distance between that den of Gomorrah and their physical bodies as possible.

She didn't make it very far. Before she could take a full step, she found herself pressed against another person, this one very much a man if the solid wall of muscle beneath where her hands had landed was any indication. She immediately pulled her hands away from the man's chest, but he gripped both of her elbows tightly and pulled her impossibly closer to keep her from falling backward. Even that type of physical contact was too scary, especially from a stranger. Miranda wrenched herself away with a stomp on the unsuspecting man's foot and a forceful shove to his chest, only to find herself staggering backward until she lost her footing and fell, landing unceremoniously on her bottom in the dirt. Her eyes traveled up from his broken in and scuffed boots to his well-worn jeans until finally she found herself looking up at his tanned skin and dark eyes, shaded by a weather-beaten cowboy hat. The whole image would have been almost funny, like a walking cliche, if he hadn't been so damn gorgeous.

The most alarming thing about him was the complete lack of emotion on his face. Miranda, of course, expected chivalry and apologies but given the scene inside the bar, she could have also understood a debasing, slovenly grin. But this man was blank.

"Oh, no! Miranda!" Gracie cried, throwing herself down beside Miranda and inspecting the damage. Miranda glared up at the man who had all but thrown her to the ground, glowering fiercely and readying herself to scream for the cops, as Gracie turned red in the face and balled up her fists before yelling, "Who do you think you are?"

"I'm the guy who was sent to fetch you and take you to Carson Hill Ranch, so get off the ground and let's go," he replied gruffly before turning and walking away without so much as offering his hand to help Miranda off the ground. The girls watched his retreating form in shock and would have refused to move from the spot if a few sweaty men engaged in a bar fight hadn't charged through the door just then, nearly running them over.

Gracie helped Miranda to her feet and began brushing at her sister's clothes, trying in vain to get as much of the deep brownish-red dirt off her while trying not to bring attention to Miranda's backside. "Do we really have to go with that awful man?" she whispered.

Miranda swallowed, then took a deep breath and released it. "I guess we do. But don't worry, when I meet my future husband, that jerk will be gone before the ink is dry on our marriage license." She gathered up the hem of her broomstick skirt and followed, Gracie running beside her and clinging to her arm.

They followed the man to a pickup truck parked beside the bus station and were glad to see that their suitcases were already waiting in the open bed. That meant that he at least was not going to expect them to load their own belongings. Miranda stopped short when the man, whom she could now see was not very old at all, climbed into the driver's seat and put his hands on the steering wheel, waiting for them to get in.

"Um, I'm sorry," Miranda began, trying—and failing—to keep her distaste for this guy out of her voice, "but where are my sister and I supposed to sit?" The rest of the truck cab was filled with various pieces of farm equipment and sacks of things he'd bought in the small store in town.

He slumped his shoulders and hung his head before answering. "I recommend sitting on those suitcases you packed with you. Just don't sit up too high, you're liable to bounce right out of the back. But wherever you sit, make sure you're nice and comfy. We have over an hour ahead of us and we won't be stopping along the way."

"AN HOUR?" Miranda shrieked, forgetting all of the diction she had carefully honed over the years working in an office building. Her face fell as he ignored her protest. She glanced at Gracie, who could only shrug her shoulders and place one high-top sneakered foot on the tire to try to hoist herself up. She made it into the dirty truck bed and reached for her sister's hands to help her, as their cowboy escort wasn't lifting a finger to assist.

Once they were more or less settled, the stern cowboy turned the key and put the ancient truck in gear before turning onto a dirt path, causing the ladies to grab suddenly at the rough hewn sides of the truck bed to avoid being thrown sideways from the jolt. Miranda shot daggers at the driver with her eyes. She didn't want to ruin anyone's first impression of her with a complaint about her new husband's staff, but this kind of behavior was completely uncalled for. Who cares if she met a guy online? She was still a human being and she'd had enough of men who treated her like she wasn't. She wanted to make sure she addressed the issue with her new future husband and pointed out the correct hired hand, so she leaned toward the open rear window of the cab.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," she said aloofly, not wanting to even pretend to have an interest in this rude man's affairs.

He didn't answer for the length of several long pauses, then he leaned toward the open driver's side window of the ride and spit out a head of wheat he'd been chewing on before answering with a tone of disgust.

"Casey Carson. Apparently, I'm your new husband."

#  Chapter seven

Gracie gave a little cry of alarm and looked tearfully at Miranda, whose own features were frozen in shock. How could this crude man possibly be her husband? Where was the guy who'd been so kind and almost poetic in the emails? Sure, she'd never spoken to him on the phone, but he'd explained that they had to use satellite phones because of their location. It had made sense at the time. But how could she be expected to even ride with this guy for an hour, let alone get to know him? Thankfully, at least Gracie was there to run interference, such as she was. Miranda looked to Gracie and held out an arm, allowing the confused and frightened girl to sit close beside her in the protection of Miranda's thin hold.

Miranda closed her eyes against the oppressive heat and the indignation at being met by her new husband and practically tossed in the back of a vehicle like a sack of produce. Gracie began to sniffle softly beside her, the girl's fears about this strange place and Miranda's arrangement obviously becoming more and more real in her mind. For his part, their rugged driver barely cast a glance at their direction in the rearview mirror as he drove, although he did toss an exasperated glance over his shoulder at Gracie when her sniffles turned into tears.

They rode in total silence over the miles of uneven terrain, the heat nearly causing Miranda to faint and the sounds of rushing wind drowning out any chance of talking. She wanted to take off her coat, especially now that it had been basically ruined by sitting in the hay rust and by having her baby sister cry all over its collar, but she wasn't about to do anything that resembled undressing in front of this man. It had been different when he was nothing more to her than a ranch hand sent to fetch her, but knowing that this man was her "Internet betrothed" made it completely out of the question.

She must have at least been daydreaming at one point, because she was suddenly jostled awake and thrown sideways from where she had leaned against one of the suitcases. Miranda sat upright, pulling Gracie up with her. She looked at the empty prairie and immediately felt afraid, worried about why they could possibly be stopping here with no structures in sight. Casey read her mind.

"Come down out of the back," he ordered, looking up at her when she didn't move right away. She pressed an arm in front of Gracie and moved the girl behind her, looking defiantly at Casey. "Please don't flatter yourself, I'm not gonna hurt you. If I wanted to violate someone, I could have had either of the girls back at the bar. Both, for that matter. At least they would have been willing."

Miranda felt her cheeks grow hot with the callous tone and lewd suggestion Casey made, not only to someone he had literally just met, but in front of her sister, too, her very under aged sister. She squared her jaw and crossed her arms in front of her, refusing to budge. Casey looked bored.

"You can come down, or I can make you come down. What's it gonna be?" He squinted up at her from beneath the brim of his hat, the sun forcing him to nearly close his eyes.

"What it's going to be, _Mister Carson_ , is that you will turn this junk heap around and take my sister and me back to Hale, where we will board the next bus back East. I had no idea when I answered your friend request that a brutish lout would be waiting at the other end of the country."

"Yeah. Well, unless you plan to walk back to that bus, you're not going anywhere. You're sitting on the truck, and I'm pretty sure we've broken an axle. You have to come down so I can look at it and see if it can even be repaired." He began hefting their suitcases out of the truck bed and tossing them to the ground as Miranda and Gracie reluctantly helped each other down.

They sat on their luggage as Casey surveyed the damage to the axle. Finally, he declared they would have to walk the rest of the way to the ranch, his expression daring the ladies to argue with him. They looked at their belongings silently, wondering if there would be anything left of their suitcases when someone came to retrieve them.

Casey led the way as Miranda and Gracie stumbled over every rock and clump of hard-baked dirt, the pebbles tearing at the soft threads of Miranda's only good pair of shoes. After only a half hour of treacherous walking, she demanded an explanation.

"Why are we walking? Why can't we call someone to pick us up?" she asked huffily.

"First of all, do you see a cell phone tower around here anywhere? And second, everybody at the ranch is busy. There's not a minute of the day when someone's not working, and you don't go calling people from their work to do what your two legs are quite capable of."

"You don't have to be hateful about it," she answered hotly.

"Ma'am, if I was being hateful, I'd have let you sit there and wait for someone to come along. Instead, I'm telling you to move your pretty little asses. We want to be at the ranch by sundown because ugly things come out at night in this area." Gracie gasped quietly at the random use of profanity, and her reaction somehow seemed to soften Casey to some degree. He shot her an apologetic look, realizing his anger over the whole marriage situation was causing him to talk to these two women in a way that he hoped no one had ever spoken to his mother. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. But if you two will pick up the pace, we might make it to the house sometime today."

He turned to go, but Miranda boldly put a hand on his arm to stop him. He instinctively pulled away from her touch without thinking, then turned toward her. "Mr. Carson," she began quietly, "I can't help but feel like our being here is not at all welcomed. Why did you bother signing up on the Internet if you were going to be pissed off that someone would answer it?"

Casey stopped and looked off to the horizon for a minute as Miranda waited for an answer to her very genuine question. Finally, he spoke, looking directly at her for the first time since she arrived.

"I didn't place the ad, ma'am. It was placed on my behalf by someone meddling in my private affairs. Honestly, looking for a wife hasn't even crossed my mind, what with trying to keep a ranch with a few thousand head of cattle going."

"Did you say, 'a few thousand'?" Miranda asked nervously.

"Yeah," Casey answered, unsure of why she cared.

"So, how large is this farm I'm supposed to work on?" She swallowed down a lump in her throat, visions of a simple farm evaporating in her mind.

"It's about 800,000 acres, with 30,000 head at any given time. Why?"

"Mr. Carson, you didn't need a wife, you need a team of field hands to work that property!" she insisted, becoming more and more distressed and forgetting her composure.

For the first time since he'd been told that morning to fire up the truck and ride to retrieve his new wife, Casey Carson threw back his head and laughed, a sound that both alarmed and endeared him to Miranda just a little bit.

"Ma'am—I'm sorry, but I truly don't even know your name—you aren't here to work as a farm wife, although I would love to see you try to slaughter a hog and boil down the fat to make lantern fuel," he said, looking her attire up and down and smirking at her refined appearance. "You're here because my father is a lonely, crazy old coot who has big ideas about filling up the house with grandchildren to sit by his feet in his old age. We lost my mother years ago, and it's been nothing but men running ragged and leaving boots strewn across the floor since that time. My father thought marrying one of us off would make the place more like a home than a barn. And trust me, you'd have an easier time trying to slaughter that hog than getting my five brothers to get their elbows off the table and chew with their mouths closed."

Casey turned and continued walking, his laughter following behind him. Gracie clutched at Miranda's sleeve again and pulled her forward from where'd she'd stood frozen in place.

_Grandchildren?_ She hadn't even seen the house yet and certainly hadn't heard word of a minister and a ceremony, and already her future father-in-law had plotted her course. Miranda wasn't sure which was scarier, the thought of coming here to work her fingers to the bone doing farm chores from sun up until sundown, or having come all this way to be a brood mare for the old man's wishes for a family.

#  Chapter eight

"Casey? Is that you?" Bernard asked, calling from the porch into the near darkness surrounding the main house.

"Yeah, Dad, we finally made it." Casey walked up the front path to the steps leading onto the porch.

"We? You don't mean to tell me you've brought your new wife in the dark?" The old man sounded indignant and alarmed.

"It was that or leave them on the prairie 'til morning, when I could go back and fix the truck. It broke an axle on the way home." Casey plopped down in one of the chairs on the porch and leaned his head back, closing his eyes as Miranda and Gracie waited nervously in the yard, eyeing the house with a small bit of satisfaction. At least it wasn't the shack both ladies had envisioned. Instead, it was a two-story structure with wide glass windows and a high peaked roof with a sprawling porch wrapping around the front of the building and disappearing on either side.

Bernard began to seethe, choosing his words carefully as there were ladies present, and strangers at that. He immediately stormed over to Casey and boxed him on the side of the head, not hard enough to do any damage but enough to send Casey out of his rocking chair.

"You made these ladies walk that distance? And what were you doing taking that piece of crap old truck in the first place? They should have been picked up in the car! Where are your manners? This is not how I raised you!" the old man stormed as Casey blinked in confusion. Bernard didn't wait for his son to answer, but limped down the wide steps to the ground and greeted Miranda. "I apologize now for my son, who does not usually have the manners—or the brains—of a mountain goat. I am Bernard Carson, the proprietor of Carson Hill Ranch. Please, come this way and I will see that you have every comfort." He held out the crook of his arm for Miranda's hand and led her into the house, gesturing to Gracie to follow. He shot Casey an angry, embarrassed look as he passed, assuring him that there would be further repercussions for the young man's treatment of their guests and newest family member.

The older man's sweet talk and charming smile worked to melt Miranda's heart and boost her spirits. At least someone in this wasteland would care if she lived or died. She followed Bernard's lead to the large kitchen of the house and for a moment, her heart sank. _I won't even get to wash the travel dust off me or rest in a chair before I'm required to cook something?_ she thought bitterly. Miranda was reassured when a cook appeared, tying an apron over what was obviously her housecoat and pajamas. Rather than be upset by the appearance of someone who was less than fully dressed and mad at herself for disturbing the cook, Miranda could only be grateful that the woman was more interested in feeding the weary travelers than maintaining decorum.

"This is Emily the Cook, she'll see that you are properly fed. In the meantime, I will send my son back out immediately to fetch your belongings and see to it that they are sent to your room. I did not realize you would be traveling with this young girl," he pointed to Gracie, "and did not prepare another room for her. Would it be okay if I move another bed into your room for her?" Bernard asked, doting on her like a loving father would.

"That would be wonderful, sir, thank you," Miranda replied, relieved.

"Oh, no, you must call me Dad. When the pastor comes to marry you, then you will be like my own daughter, the daughter I never was able to have," he said, a sad smile playing across his face as he patted both her hands. "But, for now, you eat, and then you'll get some rest." He said good night to Emily and walked out of the spacious kitchen, noticeably favoring one leg as he walked. His booming voice sounded through the house as he called for Casey to go back out on the four-wheeler and find their suitcases, leaving Miranda and Gracie to exchange a stupefied look and suppress a giggle behind their hands.

After a heavy meal of warm stew and crusty homemade bread, washed down with cold sweet tea, Miranda and Gracie followed Emily's directions and found their room at the top of the stairs. Because their clothing couldn't be expected to arrive until at least morning, if it ever showed up at all after being tossed out of the truck and abandoned on the prairie, both girls fell into their beds and slept soundly, not even bothering to remove their shoes.

Before the sun was even fully up and only a bare light filtered through the curtains, Miranda was startled awake by feet stomping outside her bedroom door. She pulled the thin covers closer to her and waited for something to happen, only to have the ruckus move on as the thundering feet and voices trailed down the staircase. Gracie hardly stirred during the disturbance, and Miranda decided not to wake her as she tried to find out the cause for alarm.

She stepped out of the bedroom and smoothed her rumpled clothes as best she could, straightening the seams on her slacks. As she tiptoed down the stairs and peeked into the kitchen, she was horrified by the sight she saw. Nearly twenty grown men were pushing and shoving for food that Emily had laid out on a long table as other kitchen hands shoveled food onto plates as fast as they could. Metal pans banged and scraped against every flat surface in an effort to get the food put out fast enough. Coffee sloshed all over the counter top and splashed to the floor as the men grabbed at the steaming mugs, reaching over each other to get to the plates and servings of food. Those who were seated at the table hunched over their plates like convicts in a prison trying to save their last scraps of food. Through it all, Bernard watched from his seat at the head of the unusually long table, a look of disappointed resignation on his face as he drank the last of his coffee and picked at a thick piece of toasted bread amidst the complete chaos going on around him.

His face lit up as soon as he spied Miranda in the doorway. He banged his heavy earthenware mug on the table top and shouted, "HALT!" Everyone in the room froze from the shock of the older man's outburst. He looked at the frozen faces around him and bellowed to those at the table, "STAND!" The cowboys at the table gave each other perplexed looks and tentatively stood from their chairs, their uneaten plates in front of them. Several of them kept their hands on either side of their plates, unsure of what was transpiring but knowing that their food had best not be pinched by a greedy hand.

"Good morning, Miss Billings," Bernard began. He looked around the room at the silent cowboys, then gestured to them to repeat him. A chorus of twenty voices awkwardly mumbled, "Good morning, Miss Billings."

Bernard addressed the group. "Gentlemen, this is Miss Miranda Billings, my son's future wife and therefore, my future daughter." Casey rolled his eyes as some of the men near him snickered. Bernard slammed his cup on the table again and the room went silent once more. "I expect she will be joining us for most meals, and as such, when a lady enters the room, you will stand as is polite. Whenever a lady is in the room, you will sit up straight, you will use your forks, you will use a napkin instead of your sleeve."

"What about the guy next to me's sleeve?" a voice called out, followed by rowdy laughter. Miranda felt herself blush at both the attention and the total disdain for the family patriarch.

"You, sir, will meet me outside after this meal," Bernard said in a threateningly dark tone of voice. The room became quiet again as the older man continued in a magnanimous voice. "I have extended an invitation to Miss Billings to bring some sense of decency back to what used to be my home...my wife's home." Several of the men dropped their heads at the mention of the former Mrs. Carson. "If she could see, and I believe that she can see us now, my wife would be heartbroken at the state of her family. I implore Miss Billings to turn this back into a home, rather than the barn it has become. You will finish your meals, you will place your utensils and napkins on top of the plates, then you will push your chair in and head to your work. Now, carry on."

Bernard sat back down in his seat and an awkward silence overtook the room. The reprimanded cowboys reached for their food and began to finish eating, casting sideways glances at Miranda. Bernard gestured to her to join him at the head of the table, waving over one of the kitchen helpers to bring a chair. "What would you like for breakfast, my dear?" he asked her softly, beaming at his new daughter.

"I think just some coffee and some toast," she answered quietly, thanking the helper when a plate of food and cup of hot coffee appeared in front of her. She shook out the paper napkin that was provided and was pleasantly surprised when a small dish of creamer and sugar appeared for her coffee. It felt weird being waited on because she was so used to being the one doing the waiting. She smiled at Bernard nonetheless and began to eat. Casey shot looks at her even as he continued to slap at the hands that teasingly patted him on the back.

"Would you meet me in my office after the meal?" Bernard asked. Miranda nodded and smiled at him. "We have to hurry, the next wave of hands will be coming in for their food as soon as these men clear out."

"How many hands are there on the ranch?" Miranda asked, wondering how even more men than these could fill the room.

"About fifty are employed here at all times, then an additional thirty or so are brought in for things like harvests or to make the cattle drive," he explained.

"Cattle drive?" she asked.

"Yes, when we bring a good portion of the herd north to Missouri, or sometimes to New Orleans, to sell at the markets or auctions."

"I didn't know people still did that. I mean, I've read about the Old West and see it in movies, of course. But, if you don't mind my asking, why don't you just load them up in those giant trucks?" She hesitated to ask, and hoped her questions weren't seen as coming from some johnny-come-lately newcomer who thought she knew everything. Miranda was genuinely interested in how the process worked.

"My father's generation did that for a time but of course, the trucks were smaller then and there were no massive interstate highways back then, just paved two-lane roads. We discovered that the animals arrived in very poor shape and several died along the way, even in trucks that could cover that distance in only a couple of days. Besides, it's become a family thing. We all take part, and we spend that time together." He smiled at Miranda and patted her hand.

She coughed a little and finally managed to choke out, "All?"

"Yes, all! But don't worry, you don't have to sleep on the open ground if you don't want to."

"Oh, goody!" she said with a smile.

"You can have the tent!" Bernard shot back, enjoying tormenting her a little bit in his good-natured way. "Even around the farm, though, we still do some of the work in the tried-and-true ways. Sure, we have radios to call each other and wifi even in the barn, but we still do a lot of the work on horseback. We tried modernizing when I was much younger, what with these fancy four-wheelers and fast pickup trucks, but we found that we spent more time trying to gather up the cattle that had been spooked by the engines. So much time, that these things weren't a time saver.

"And even though the cattle drive is not a tremendous distance, it is still dangerous for the animals and has to take place over several weeks. If the animals walk too far without enough rest, they will lose too much weight and become too unhealthy for the market. We do this several times a year, as we obviously cannot move the whole herd with only a few men.

Miranda nodded and finished her breakfast, amused at the man's statement that this mob of field hands was a "few" men. As she stood to leave the kitchen, everyone paused, many in the middle of chewing their food, looking first at Miranda and then to Bernard. The old man sighed, and said, "Well?"

The ranch hands stood uncertainly as Miranda turned to leave the kitchen, the young lady stopping first to thank Emily and her staff. She left the kitchen and smiled knowingly as twenty men flounced back in their chairs with relief and began eating like animals once more.

#  Chapter nine

Bathing had never felt so good, even if the water was a tad bit colder than Miranda was used to. Back in her old apartment, there had been no bathtub, only a tiny walk-in shower that drained directly into the floor. Getting to sit in the mildly tepid water was still a luxury, one she had been warned about.

"The solar hot water heater provides us with the water," one of the housekeepers explained as she led Miranda to the bathroom. "but the tank is only so big. You can't exactly run the water all the way to the top of the tub. Just warning you!"

Here at the ranch, water was sent through pipes directly from the creek that ran off from a large river to the east. It went through a filtration process in a small building behind the house, and then was stored in cisterns close to the house. Several more larger cisterns erected near the barns provided water for the animals. The cisterns, built off the ground in places that received the most shade throughout the day, helped cool the water slightly. But with so many workers trying to clean the dirt of a hard day's work off their bodies, heating the water to a luxurious temperature wasn't always possible.

Fortunately, Gracie came to Miranda's rescue, entering the private bathroom with another pot of boiling water. "Move to the side, Miranda, this one is terribly hot." She poured in the still-bubbling water and Miranda moved the water around slightly with her foot, closing her eyes and reveling in the feeling of warmth that spread through the water. Gracie swirled the water with the still burning pot to add to the temperature a little.

"Gracie," Miranda began, her eyes still closed as she heard her sister move about the small room, squeezing some soap into the water and fluffing out a towel off the wall rack for Miranda to use when she was finished. "do you think this will work out somehow?"

"I don't know. What do you mean?" the girl replied, sorting through the clothes that had arrived during the night to find something suitable and appropriate to wear.

"This isn't at all what I had in mind. I mean, I knew there would be issues and obstacles, like getting to know each other and figuring each other out, but I never once imagined that the first hurdle would be a man who so clearly doesn't want me here, and his sweet father who obviously does. How are we going to make this work?"

"I don't have a clue," Gracie said with a small giggle. It felt good to hear her laugh again, and Miranda would marry a million strange cowboys if it could undo some of the damage Mike had done. "That older Mr. Carson would move a mountain to have a daughter, especially one like you, and he'd be the one who was lucky to have you in his family, not the other way around. So who cares what his son thinks of the situation? The younger guy didn't exactly threaten to kick you out of here. And he's really, really cute, if you don't mind me saying so."

"No, not at all. And I think you're right," Miranda answered. "Something about the older man does make people just want to be good. Look at the way the men responded to him, even the ones who have no ties to this farm other than being hired on. It was like they were being punished by their own fathers."

"But I don't understand. If you're not going to be some farmer's wife who scrubs the laundry on a washboard at the river," Miranda flicked water from the tub at Gracie for her outdated explanation. "What exactly will you be doing?"

"I don't know," Miranda sighed. "From what I've seen so far, I'm only here so I can walk into a room and make grown men behave themselves, men who should fully know better!" She and Gracie laughed again over the description Miranda had given Gracie about breakfast that morning. "But the older Mr. Carson is supposed to talk to me about that this morning, so let me get dressed and go see what he wants."

Gracie turned around as Miranda out of the bath tub and threw on her robe. She crept back to the bedroom to check on which of her outfits still looked halfway decent after being stowed in a suitcase for nearly a week and then spending the night on the ground. She returned with a dress no worse for wear, but maybe a little too dressy for the ranch.

"Thank goodness all I had was T-shirts and jeans. If you see any scissors around the place, would you bring them back with you? I'm going to cut off some of these jeans for shorts," Gracie reminded her.

"I'll do that. I'm afraid this heat will be the death of both of us if we don't wear some lighter clothing. The thought of putting on that dress is making me sweat so much, I'll need another bath before I ever get to speak to Mr. Carson."

"Um, have you noticed that no one dresses like that around here?" the girl asked, looking up from her book.

"Like what?"

"Like they're going on a job interview," she answered, pointing at the navy blue dress Miranda had spread out on the bed. "I've only seen a few other women here, and none of them wore dresses. Shouldn't we at least try to blend in?" Gracie hinted, more for her own comfort than Miranda's.

Miranda laughed, a hint of mischief on her face even as she pretended to be shocked by Gracie's suggestion. But after a moment's hesitation, she added, "Why not? Hand me my jeans out of the suitcase. It's not like any of these men will know the difference! If we didn't have udders, horns, and hide, they wouldn't even know we were in the room!"

Gracie smiled and finished helping Miranda dress and tie back her hair in a low ponytail, readying her to meet Mr. Carson in his office. When Miranda emerged from the bedroom and into the hallway, she could easily see down the wide stair case that the older man was sitting in his office, reading something in an oversized book as another man stood beside his chair. She walked down the staircase and approached the office, knocking gently on the frame of the open door.

"Miranda!" Bernard called out, his funny way of speaking making him stress the second syllable of her name in a way that was charming. "Please, come in, come in. You don't ever have to knock to enter this office." He stood up as she approached and pointed her to a chair near his desk. "Have you met my son, Anders? He is your new husband's younger brother."

_New husband_ , she thought to herself, a worried frown crinkling her face for only a moment. _That remains to be seen._ Even the thought of marrying the guy's son after the one conversation they'd had seemed not only stupid, it seemed downright impossible.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Anders," Miranda began. "I'm afraid I arrived not knowing there was such a large family here, but I hope to get to know you better very soon."

Anders smiled, then blushed to the roots of his hair and bowed slightly. He quickly left the room, his laptop tucked under one arm. Bernard sat back down behind his large oak desk and leaned forward, even as Miranda sat as straight in her chair as her business school education had taught her. For all practical purposes, this was exactly like a job interview, only for some reason, the job she was applying for was to be a wife.

"So, Miranda, what do you think of Carson Hill Ranch so far?" Bernard asked kindly.

"Well, it's so overwhelming that I really haven't had the chance to form an opinion. It's beautiful, of course," she added quickly to avoid sounding insulting. "and your men seem very attached to their lives here. I'm sure it will make a really great home," she answered primly.

"And I want you to think of it as your home. What I said this morning was not just posturing for the men or pretty words to impress you. There was a time when this house was nothing more than a lean-to, and my ancestors—and their new brides!—slept on the very ground. And they were so happy. Even when I finally met my wife," At this, Bernard turned a picture frame around so Miranda could see a petite, black-haired woman smiling back at her, her arms full of children of different ages, "this house was only about two-thirds of this size. Once I built my family's fortune back up and tripled the herd of cattle," Bernard's hand swept out in an open gesture to encompass everything in sight, "it was my sweet wife who brought a feminine touch to the ranch. It was no longer a homestead filled with animals, but a place for a family to really live."

"We lost her only a few years ago, shortly after giving birth to the angel who would have been my daughter. Both of them died only a few hours after the birth," Bernard explained, his voice dropping in volume as sadness washed over him. "Our home—and our family—has never been the same."

Miranda wanted to get up and go over to him, to wrap her arms around him. Something about the old man just seemed to bring out the best in people, herself included. She knew it wouldn't be the polite thing to do because they had only just met, so she could only nod her head quietly.

"But this is why we need you," Bernard continued, clearing his throat and washing away his emotion. "We need someone to make us remember that we are first and foremost gentlemen, not animal herders who happen to walk on two legs."

"What exactly will I be doing around here, though?" Miranda asked earnestly. "I'm sure I'll also need to earn my keep around here, just like everybody else does. I mean, I went to school, I have a degree in accounting but of course, I spent plenty of time waiting tables over the years. I'm not too proud to work in the kitchen or help out in other ways around the house."

"Well, yes, but I thought I would leave it to you to determine what your strengths are that you bring to the ranch. Of course, there's also the matter of my son..." Miranda immediately felt her face heat, a pink blush creeping up her neck from her chest. She was not about to discuss what she could be doing for Casey with his father. "...this wasn't entirely his idea. I take that back. This was not at all his idea. He is opposed to marrying a stranger but mostly, it is because he doesn't think he has the time for a wife and a family. He will come around, I promise you."

"And if he doesn't?" Miranda asked thoughtfully, ashamed at the thought that her future husband might reject her so coldly that she could barely bring herself to ask.

"Well, if that's the case, I would provide you with money for travel back to anywhere you wished to go, as well as compensate you for the wages you would have earned if you hadn't come out here. Of course, I have five other sons to choose from!" the man said with a laugh. "Surely one of them would be honored to have a smart, beautiful girl like you as his bride!"

Somehow, that suggestion only made Miranda grow even more morose. The thought of being passed from brother to brother until one of them was finally unwittingly saddled with her made the bile rise up in her throat. Damn Mike for putting her in this situation! Back in Newark, she had a good thing going, even if it wasn't perfect. Then she had to go and meet Mike and ruin what little good was happening in her life. Here, she had to make amends and hope her would-be fiancé so much as spoke to her.

"Now, let me be the one to ask you a few questions," Bernard began, lacing his fingers on top of his desk and staring at the wedding ring he still wore. "For instance, what makes a beautiful, educated, articulate girl like you go looking for a cowboy on the Internet?"

Miranda took a deep breath, knowing that she would have had to answer this question at some point sooner or later. "It really started out as a joke, if that's not too harsh a thing to say. My little sister..."

"Gracie, was it?" Bernard asked.

"Yes, after George Burns' wife, Gracie Allen. Anyway, she came to live with me after my mom died last year. She didn't have anywhere else to go, and believe me, I looked!"

"You two don't get along?" he asked, his eyebrows coming together in concern.

"Oh, no! Nothing like that! But with the age difference, I never really knew her that well and after losing our dad in Afghanistan when she was a toddler and then losing our mom last year, the last thing she needed was to be uprooted from her home and forced to sleep on the couch of my apartment. I'm really sorry to say it, but she's been on that couch this whole time." Now was probably not the time to bring up Mike's attempts at hurting Gracie, or the possibly criminal way Miranda had handled the situation.

"But how did she have a hand in you agreeing to marry my son?"

"Oh, that. To say that Gracie didn't like my boyfriend at the time is putting it mildly. And she's completely right, he was horrible and I'm glad to be rid of him. One day, she was just goofing off on the Internet and signed me up for this dating site, halfway pretending that maybe she could show me the really good, quality guys out there. Next thing you know, I was emailing Casey. Or at least I thought it was Casey, but I have a really good idea that it was you on the other end of the computer," Miranda said, narrowing her eyes slightly at the older man.

"I plead the fifth," he said simply, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

"I see. Well, there you have it."

"No, that only explains how you came to be on the dating site in the first place. Whatever made you decide to pack up and leave New Jersey?"

"Have you ever been to New Jersey? If you had, you wouldn't have to ask!" she answered teasingly. "But seriously, I was in a dead-end job, keeping the books for a small company, I had a sister to take care of, a boyfriend to get rid of, and an apartment that is literally smaller than this office. I hadn't done so well for myself up to that point, so I thought, 'Why not? I should go meet this guy and see where it takes me because it can't take me anywhere worse than I've already been.'"

"There is a business matter to discuss," Bernard continued, his voice growing serious. "I have arranged for a parcel of land that neighbors Carson Hill Ranch to be put in your name as part of our arrangement. This piece is small, only a couple hundred acres or so, but it would be yours outright, regardless of your marital status. Your husband cannot sell it or develop it, not without your permission. If you decide not to go through with the wedding, I would sell it off. But if you do get married, it is your property, regardless of what the future holds."

Miranda sat up straighter, watching the man carefully. How was this possible? She'd practically been chased from Newark by her circumstances and now, this man was going to make her a property owner? She used to struggle to pay the rent on a one-bedroom fifth floor walk-up, how was it that she would own a small ranch?

"As for your duties here, of course, there will be some assisting within the house, probably with meal times and especially with holiday events. My wife used to make the biggest fuss at the holidays, and we really haven't celebrated all that much in the past few years. And then, I have two young sons who could use a firm tutor, and all of us could use a woman's touch around here when it comes to our manners. Someone to see to it that we actually follow through with Bible study and prayer times would be helpful, too, if you're religious at all. It used to be really important to my wife." Bernard moved some papers around on his desk as Miranda sat numbly listening to the list of her duties. It was a far cry from helping a homesteader pull a plow, that was for sure, but it was also no worse than filing papers from nine-to-five as a creepy boss tried to look down her blouse.

When she was dismissed, Miranda felt hopeful for the first time since climbing on that bus. This might actually work after all, especially with the very generous gift of her very own land. She felt lighter than she had in days.

So why did Casey Carson have to go and ruin that feeling, just by walking in the door?

#  Chapter ten

Casey stopped short when he saw Miranda standing at the bottom of the staircase, one delicate hand on the gleaming wooden handrail. _Why in the hell did Dad have to go and bring her here?_ he thought sourly. _This ranch is no place for a lady, especially not one dressed like that. She'll ruin her clothes just by walking through a doorway, let alone stepping foot out on the farm._ He nodded curtly and kept walking, a small part of his mind aware that she was watching him go.

There was no point in making nice with her, especially when Casey had every intention of putting off this wedding idea of his father's for as long as possible. Long enough, hopefully, that she'd get tired of waiting and head back to wherever it was his father had found her. Ladies like her didn't belong out here, especially not ones who made hungry field hands who'd been up working since before dawn stand when she entered a room and eat with their elbows off the table. Meals weren't about social niceties, they were about getting enough food into you to hold you until the next meal, with hours and hours of back-breaking, sometimes life-threatening, work in between.

But there was one thing Casey knew a city girl could do for this ranch, and that was give Bernard something to do. The old man was really feeling the strain of being cooped up inside his own house, a house that he helped build with his own two hands in his younger days. There aren't many people on this planet who could have done what Bernard Carson had accomplished; if he wanted to spend his retired days being fawned over by a delicate daughter-in-law and bouncing grandbabies on his knee, that was not too much to ask after the decades of hard work he'd put into the ranch. And that work was all going to be left to his sons. Maybe it wasn't too much to ask that those sons show some gratitude by leaving the man a family legacy.

Casey shook off the thought and returned to the tack room to saddle his horse. He had fifty miles to cover before lunch break, and he was doing it on only a couple hours' sleep, thanks to that frilly girl and her stupid suitcases. Casey couldn't believe his father actually made him go back out in the dark and retrieve them, like they wouldn't have still been sitting there in the morning. It was no concern of his if she had to wear the same clothes two days in a row. Hell, half the men out here only owned two shirts and they wore them for a solid week at a time.

"Well, look who's able to walk around today," Jack called out with a leer in Casey's direction. "I'd a thought you wouldn't be able to get outta bed today, what with that pretty little woman of yours keepin' you up all night."

"Close your mouth, Jack. You and I don't have anything to say about that. Besides, she's not my wife and I didn't sleep with her." Casey kept walking toward his horse, reaching down the brush from where it hung on a nail inside the barn. He began scrubbing down his horse's flanks, readying it for the saddle for the long morning ride.

"Well, hell, if you ain't got her in the bed her yet, I'm happy to step in, get her all ready for ya," Jack offered spitefully, laughing with some of the other men working among the stalls.

Casey balled both fists and stomped in Jack's direction, suddenly not too proud to beat a man who had to be at least fifty years old. For his part, Jack threw both hands in the air in surrender and took a step back.

"Don't go gettin' defensive now, young 'un, I'd hate to have to put you in your place in front of all these men. Remember, you might be up for ownin' this ranch one day, and when that day comes, you're gonna need ranch hands who are loyal to you. You don't wanna go pissin' on the men who are gonna care for your cattle and drive your herd, or accidents could happen," Jack hinted through clenched teeth.

"Any 'accident' that happens around here is going to involve your head under some stampeding hooves. You're not the only man who knows how to spook a horse until it throws its rider," Casey whispered in Jack's face, reminding the foreman of the suspicious death of a new ranch hand last year, his accusation thick in his words. "And 'that woman' is my future wife. You don't touch her, you don't look at her, and you sure as hell don't talk about her, to me or to any other man. If you can't remember that order, you're going to find yourself about one hundred miles out into the desert without so much a hat to swat the flies with. I swear to God, I will leave your carcass out there for the coyotes to tear in two."

Casey shoved Jack backward onto a hay bale with both hands and turned in the other direction, picking up his brush and resuming his animal's care while watching Jack through squinted eyes. Jack slunk away to lick his ego's wounds, glaring at Casey the entire time.

"I told you before, that one's dangerous," Carey said, coming up behind Casey. "Don't go making an enemy of him, or there's no telling what could happen out on the range one day."

"I'm going to speak to Dad tonight. That man has to go. He does nothing around here except cause trouble. He may have been a big help to Dad a few decades ago, but now...I'm not so sure."

"You're right. And by the way, when did you suddenly take such a liking to the little missus Dad picked out? I heard you call her your 'future wife.' So does that mean you're going through with it?" Carey asked, turning away from the group of men lingering among the horses to avoid embarrassing Casey.

"It doesn't seem like I have a whole lot of choice in the matter," Casey answered, sighing angrily as he cinched the girth on his saddle and buckled it, looping the long leather strap to keep it from dragging beneath his horse. "She's here, isn't she? And even if it's not my plan, I guess even I have to admit the thought of someone spending her day sitting around on the computer or playing on Facebook or whatever the hell it is girls like her do all day, is less than ideal. But spending it inside with Dad and keeping him company...I guess I can sort of admit that it wouldn't be a horrible thing."

"Whew, I'm glad you see it that way. Watching Dad get up on a horse and try to ride with the herd is enough to stop my heart. If he had someone in the house to keep him company and play Scrabble or something with him, maybe he'd leave this work to us. And besides, I'm sure you could have done worse."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Casey demanded.

"Well, she seems smart, and polite, and she sure isn't ugly. Maybe it's like Dad said, you get to know each other and you treat each other nice, then next thing you know, you're in love. Or something like that."

"Oh, really? Well, let's see if you're singing that same tune when it's _your_ turn!" Casey argued, punching Carey in the shoulder. "Maybe I found the only good looking, good smelling woman in the whole country! I bet the next online ad Dad runs brings us a whole horde of one-legged, cross-eyed girls, who smell like turnips and fart during meals!" He ducked Carey's playful swat at his head, and succeeded in losing his hat in the scuffle. The brothers tugged and shoved like they had when they were children, stopping only at the sound of static and a scratchy voice coming through the walkie-talkie attached to Carey's belt. It was followed only a minute or two later by hoof beats tearing into the dirt pen surrounding the barn.

"Hey guys! C'mon, there's a whole pack of coyotes heading toward the creek bed, and we have the Aubrac herd grazing down there now!" The hand who'd ridden in to tell them the news wheeled his horse around and headed back in the direction he'd come from, kicking up a cloud of dust behind him in his haste. Carey and Casey mounted their horses after pulling their shotguns down from the pegs inside the barn door.

The brothers and several other hands tore out across the ranch in the direction of the creek bed, quickly overtaking the hand who'd reported the sighting. It wasn't long before the stench of coyote urine, where the villains had marked their claim, rose up and filled their nostrils, agitating the horses with the accompanying scent of danger. The four-legged murderers came into view, some of the pack driving straight toward the herd, others circling around to come in at the cows from the other side.

"We can't head them off. We're gonna have to take them down," one of the ranch hands said, coming up beside Carey and Casey and leaning over his saddle to catch his breath.

"He's right, Casey," Carey agreed. "They're in too far. If we go charging in there after them, we're just as likely to cause the herd to stampede. They'll already be panicked because of the coyotes, and six horses barreling in there will be too much for them to handle."

"We can't go firing into the herd, either. You guys take out the ones heading toward them on this side, Thomas and I will ride around the other flank and try to reach the ones heading for the far bank." Casey nodded at one of their crew and together, they took off to the left, parallel to the creek, where the herd obliviously stood grazing and drinking from the gently moving water. Casey spurred his horse on, letting his hat fly off and hang from around his neck by its leather chord. They cut through the water, sending a wall of spray from their horses' hooves up on either side, cutting off their view of the aggressive scavengers for a moment.

When they emerged from the creek, several of the coyotes were already underfoot and yelping, scrambling to get away from the thick, deadly hooves coming down around on either side of them. At this range, Casey's shotgun would be no use, so he drew his revolver and took aim at the closest pack member, firing off a round that caught the animal right behind its front shoulder and directly into its rib cage. For his part, Thomas took out two of the larger animals as they lunged at the creek, directly in front of a heifer that startled at their sudden movement and swam toward the middle of the creek.

After shooting another coyote as it attempted to intercept a calf, Casey felt an odd tug at his boot and looked down to see a tan and grey coyote nipping at his boot, jumping at horse's flank. The sudden scrape of teeth against hide sent Casey's horse rearing up, throwing him to the ground, knocking the breath from his burning lungs. His head connected with the rocks lining the creek bed, sending a throbbing ache through his skull that nearly blinded him. A sickening crunch sounded as pain shot up Casey's leg, his horse having stomped on his booted ankle.

As Casey writhed on the ground, a low moan escaping his parched mouth, he was blinded by the light of the sun directly overhead. He was startled when a face came into view, blocking out the light but backlit so as to almost be unrecognizable.

Almost.

But there was no mistaking the ugly, scarred face of Jack, the ranch foreman.

He leaned over Casey and said, "I told you accidents happen." Just then, the sound of a gunshot sounded so close to Casey, that for a moment, he couldn't find the source of it. An unfamiliar scream sounded, then went silent. Jack laughed over Casey's twisted, agonized face once more, then a boot kick to Casey's head made everything go dark.

#  Chapter eleven

An unseen hand pressed a rag against Casey's face, blocking out what little light worked its way into the room. Heavy, dark quilts had been hung on the windows to bar the sunlight, with only a strip of yellow light peeking through at the edge of the blanket. Casey's hand shot out and grabbed the arm, ready to snap it in two. Only the feel of his long fingers closing together over the thin arm stopped him. He snatched the thick cover off his face and stared into the near-darkness, ready to do battle with this unseen assailant.

"Casey, stop. It's me," Miranda cautioned. Casey's tense shoulders relaxed, but she noticed his firm grip on her thin wrist didn't ease. He breathed heavily for a moment, trying to get his bearings, trying to remember how he had ended up in this room.

"Where am I?" Casey demanded.

"You're back in the house. In my room," she answered quietly, certain that his injuries must have left him with a horrible pain in his head.

"Why am I in your room?" he asked, still confused by the events.

"Well, it was that, or nurse your wounds in front of your brothers' snoring bodies," Miranda said, smiling a little. "I, for one, had no desire to sit by anyone's bedside, let alone with a crowd like those boys create. Besides, this room already had two beds because they brought one in for my sister. I could keep watch over you better this way."

Casey didn't say anything for a long moment, so long that Miranda wondered if he had slipped into unconsciousness again. Finally, she asked, "Do you remember what happened?"

He nodded a little bit, surprised by how much even that small motion hurt. "I was thrown from my horse this morning, chasing the coyotes away from the Aubrac herd."

"Well, you're only partly right. Only it didn't happen this morning. It happened two days ago."

"Two days!" Casey nearly shouted, starting to sit up but then thinking better of it when a wave of nausea hit him full force. "I've been asleep for two days?"

"Yes and no. You were in and out a good bit, but we had to keep you calm until the doctor could come set your collarbone. It's broken, I'm afraid. You've been asleep from the pain pills he left. They knock you out cold."

"I remember that. I felt a sharp pain after I fell off my horse."

"What else do you remember?" Miranda asked, concern creeping into her voice.

"Why? What's so important about falling off a horse?" he demanded, not very kindly.

"Maybe I should let your father speak to you," she suggested. Casey grabbed her arm again and pulled her by the wrist until she was close to his face.

"No. Tell me what's wrong. I can tell that something's wrong."

"Um...it would seem that maybe there was an accident," Miranda began hesitantly.

"What kind of accident? Where's Carey?!" Casey demanded, remembering that his brother had gone with him to protect the cattle.

"Oh, Carey's fine, don't worry. He actually helped bring you back here. No, it's the ranch hand who went around the creek with you...Thomas, I think they said?" she asked for clarification.

"What about Thomas?"

"I'm afraid he was killed." Miranda waited for Casey to explode but even in the darkened room, she could see that his face was concentrating, processing what she'd said. He shook his head for a moment before remembering how badly that motion hurt.

"That can't be right. Did he fall too?" Casey asked, sadness evident in his voice at the loss of the young hand.

"I really should get your father, and let him know you're awake." She started to rise up off the bed and turn to the door but Casey grabbed her once again, the intensity in the gesture frightening her more than anything she'd seen since coming west.

"NO! Tell me what happened!" Casey roared. Miranda stared, not sure she should say anything else when Casey was so upset.

"He was shot. In the back."

In a blinding flash, Casey remembered. He remembered seeing Jack's face leaning over his, and hearing the gunshot that must have been Thomas' death blow. He remembered the laughter just before everything went dark.

"Jack. Jack shot him," Casey whispered. Miranda leaned closer, telling him to repeat himself. "Jack was there, he shot Thomas. He'd argued with me just that morning and made some kind of a threat and when I fell, Jack leaned over me and laughed. I heard it, he shot Thomas."

"Unfortunately, that's not the explanation Jack has given. He claims Thomas made some inappropriate remark to you that morning, and that you lured him away from the group with the excuse of cutting off the pack of coyotes, but that you used that as a way to get Thomas alone instead, and that you shot him in the back."

"No, that's not true. Jack wasn't even with us when we set out to chase down the pack. How would he even know? Except he was there, waiting. He shot Thomas, and I can prove it. Where are my clothes?"

"They're over here, where I..."

"Where you what?"

"Never mind."

"Where you undressed me?" Casey asked sarcastically, fully realizing for the first time that he was covered only by the bed quilt.

"Someone had to," Miranda answered primly, answering Casey's sarcasm with her own. "It seems that mending broken cowboys who fall off their horses is also on the list of things I was 'hired' to do around here, besides breed, of course."

"Go to my belt and bring me my gun. I shot two coyotes. That means there should still be four cartridges in the cylinder." Miranda crossed the room and fished out the gun Carey had carefully replaced in Casey's belt holster before carrying him over on his own horse back to the house. She carried it with one tiny finger looped through the trigger guard, wanting as much distance as possible between her and the deadly device. Casey took it from her hand and spun open the cylinder, counting out the four bullets that remained. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"See? All four. And I bet the mangy bodies of those two coyotes are still out there on the creek bed, if the buzzards haven't cleaned the whole mess away by now. I knew there was no way I shot Thomas. That poor man..." With the situation resolved, at least in his mind, Casey had a chance to mourn the loss of an eager, energetic cowboy, gone for good because of one horrid monster's need for revenge. "You have to fetch my father. We have to tell him what happened before Jack skips the ranch and heads out."

"I believe you," Miranda said. "I'll let your father know you need to speak with him. But for now, you have to rest. You've got more thread than skin on your face, and you lost enough blood through the cut to the back of your head to sink a small ship. It took me a few hours just to get all your skin back where it goes."

Casey reached up and touched the stitch work, pulling his fingers back as pain shot out from around the cut. "You stitched this? Are you kidding me? Who let you take a needle to my head?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. And it's quite nice needlework, if I do say so myself. I actually know how to sew, and since it was looking like a good hour before a doctor could get here, I did it myself with the supplies in the medical kit. I was all for embroidering a lovely floral pattern, and I would have gotten away with it too, if your brothers had their way. But your father thought it might upset you to have a scar in the shape of a hyacinth." She smiled down at Casey in the dark, and he relaxed somewhat.

"So why are you out here in Texas instead of embroidering hyacinths to wear to your fancy office somewhere back east?" Casey asked, his voice dropping again. Miranda looked at him for a moment, gauging whether or not that question was actually intended to ask, "Why don't you go home?". Deciding that it was borne out of genuine interest in what brought her here, she answered.

"If you must know, I wasn't actually all that happy in my office back in Newark," she began. "It was...not the best life, for me or for my sister. I...I told your father some of this, but I didn't tell him everything. I didn't want to worry him, but more importantly, I didn't want to be here because he felt the need to take on a charity case."

Miranda proceeded to tell Casey only the most important parts of the story where Mike was concerned. She told him how she heard Gracie crying and went into the living room to find him on top of her, trying to pull her nightgown up.

"And I snapped. I had taken every bit of abuse and anger he had dished out but when I saw him trying to hurt Gracie, I went for the baseball bat he kept in the closet."

"And..."

"And I beat the crap out of him. I dragged him to the floor and beat him with that bat until he actually cried like a little girl. And then I got us the hell out of there. I called the police from a payphone and told them everything, then Gracie and I went to the bus station."

"And just like that, you came out here?" Casey asked, a look of disbelief crossing his face.

"No, of course not. I didn't know you—well, your dad—yet. We went to the bus station because we had to have a place to sleep that night. Yes, I parked my baby sister, the one a drunken man had just tried to rape, on a bench in the bus station and I sat watch over her all night, never closing my eyes for even a second, just in case someone far worse than Mike came along.

"So, rather than keep living in the apartment where she was attacked and I was beaten on a weekly basis, I answered your father's ad. Only I discovered upon my arrival that you weren't as excited about the idea as he was."

Casey's face fell as he remembered his harsh treatment of Miranda and her sister. Was that only a few days ago? He felt ashamed at having taken out his wrath meant for his father on this poor young woman who braved a cross-country trip to become a stranger's wife—a ranch wife, at that— to exact some measure of independence.

"I apologize for my behavior when we met. I promise it had nothing to do with you. I just resented the fact that I didn't have a choice."

"I feel the pain of not having choices every day," she answered softly.

"Yes, I suppose you do. But if it's any consolation, it wasn't you. I would have been an ugly jackass to anyone who had showed up after answering my father's ad. Oh, wait, what was it you called me? A 'brutish lout'? I can sort of figure out that it's not a good thing to be called, but where did you even come up with a phrase like that?"

"Well, let's just say I'm a big fan of British literature. Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, you name it. And besides, I've had more than my fair share of brutish louts lately," she replied, surprised that he remembered her angry insult. "I know my way around a good lout. First, there was my disgusting ex-boyfriend. Then, there's a certain cowboy who is too full of his own affairs to look into the needs of others," she nudged Casey gently with one finger. "and finally, the most disgusting man I've yet had the displeasure of meeting. How anyone can abide being in Jack's presence for more than a few seconds is unfathomable."

Casey fumed with anger again, remembering Jack's disgusting offer to have his way with Miranda. He thought of other things to avoid throwing off the bed covers and charging down the stairs that very moment.

"So, how long until I'm out of this bed and back at work on the fences, Doc?" he asked Miranda playfully.

"Well, that depends entirely on the behavior of the patient. You are a perfectly agreeable ward...when you're unconscious. The times when you've been awake, you've been quite a handful, what with your trying to get up from the bed and the attempts at ripping out my needlework," she teased.

"I'm afraid you're going to learn that I'm always easier to deal with when I'm not awake," Casey said, his voice taking on a serious tone he hoped would serve as the warning he intended. Miranda was quiet, all humor put aside at Casey's statement.

"And I'm afraid you're going to find I'm always easier to deal with when I'm spoken to respectfully, when I'm treated as an equal, and when I'm not expected to pull the bloody clothing off a near-corpse and try to put all of its pieces back together," she whispered, dropping the barricade she had first put up around her demeanor and letting Casey know how much his accident had scared her. "I am not too proud a person to admit to you that it was almost heart-stopping to see your pale, still body with the blood dripping off of you, and wondering if I'd come all this way only to become a widow before I even became a wife."

That was all it took. The iron cage Casey had locked his heart into on the day his father had decreed this marriage broke apart, freeing him to finally see the creature fate had put in front of him. He sat up suddenly and took Miranda's soft face between his weathered, work beaten hands and kissed her lips, letting the warmth of her mouth ignite the part of him that had kept her at arms' length, burning away the emptiness he had sentenced himself to.

Miranda stiffened at the abruptness of his unexpected kiss, but immediately relaxed as the feeling of his mouth on hers erased all tension in her body. She placed her hands over his and returned his kiss eagerly, delighting in the feeling of desire that built in her, a feeling she'd never experienced before with Mike. When his mouth parted hers gently, she was surprised by the sensation of his tongue playing across hers, awed by his reaction as much as hers. Too soon, he pulled away, still holding her face softly as he spoke to her in earnest.

"I am so sorry," he began, his embarrassment evident even in the darkened room. "I don't know what came over me, I just knew I had to kiss you."

"That's all right, _Mr. Carson_ ," she teased, answering him tentatively, shocked by how hard it was to slow her heart beat and quiet her breaths.

"It's Mr. Carson again, is it?" he teased. "I hope you don't go kissing every Mr. Carson on the place like that. There's quite a few of us, you know."

"Only the ones who throw themselves at me," she shot back in jest.

"My name is Casey," he answered. "I want to hear you call me Casey."

"All right...Casey. And I'm Miranda. Miranda Billings."

"And I've made a decision. I want you to become Miranda Carson. Today, if we can."

#  Chapter twelve

"Today?" Miranda asked, blinking her eyes in surprise.

"Yup. I know all I need to know about you," he answered confidently.

"And what do you think you know about me?" she asked skeptically, leaning back and crossing her arms. "Apart from the way I kiss, I mean."

"I know your favorite flower is a hyacinth," Casey began, sitting up and taking her hands in his. "I know you have a sarcastic sense of humor. I know you're good to my father and would never say a cross word to him. And I know you're capable of killing a man if he hurts someone you care about. That is all I need to know about you to be sure I want to marry you."

"I never said my favorite flower was a hyacinth," Miranda whispered, still too dazed to argue.

"No, but you wouldn't have sewn it into my forehead if you hated it. You were only joking, but it would have been your mark. Like Zorro. A flower petaled Zorro." Casey smiled at her, really seeing her for the first time.

"I'm not even sure it's actually legally possible to get married today," she answered. "Besides, don't these things take time? Aren't I supposed to be courted and wooed first?" She batted her eyelashes at Casey coyly, making him laugh even harder, before turning serious again. "There's also the matter of clearing your name. There is still an unsolved murder here, and word is spreading that you're the one who shot Thomas."

"That we can easily prove, we just need to get our hands on Jack. I'm sure he's long gone by now," Casey mumbled angrily.

"Actually, no, he was picked up as a person of interest when someone else came forward and said you two had been the ones arguing that morning." Casey smiled at the news. "But, you need your rest and I need to go downstairs to meet with your dad. He does love his meetings, doesn't he?"

"Oh, yeah, but you'll get used to that. And it's weird, but I'll sit in that office of his anytime he wants me to if it will keep him off a horse or out from under the hooves of the herd. He's pretty spry for his age, but even he forgets from time to time that he's in his seventies."

"Wow, that's quite an age difference between him and his kids. Were you guys all surprise babies?" Miranda asked, embarrassed to be butting in on the family business.

"Oh no, he just married late. I guess that's some of what's driving his little shenanigans with trying to marry us off. He doesn't talk about it much but when he was young, this farm was barely hanging on. There were plenty of times they almost lost it to the bank, and it sure didn't have anywhere close to the acreage it has now. He worked himself like crazy to not only save it, but to also protect it for the next generation. He met Mom when he was in his forties, I think, and she was a good bit younger."

The more Miranda heard about the inner workings of the family business, the more intriguing it sounded. There was a sense of history here, something she could never have as someone who'd lost everyone, everyone but Gracie, of course. It was more than just romantic ideas that kept her thoughts with the Carsons, but more about the feeling of looking for something she'd never even known she'd lost.

"Your dad wants to talk to me about the cattle drive, for some reason," she began, looking to Casey to see if he might know why. "I think he has plans for me!"

"Are you thinking about going?" he asked hopefully, sitting up taller and placing a pillow behind his back.

"I can't say it's something I've ever dreamed of doing," she admitted, looking kind of sheepish. "but it sounds like it might certainly be an adventure. I would really just worry about being in the way, or making someone have to stop working to take care of me." She looked at Casey pointedly, letting him know her remark was directed to him.

"If you've ever seen anything like cattle drives in the Old West...it's a lot like that, but it's also completely not like that. Sure, we still sleep outside and we take our meals out of the 'chuck wagon', but that chuck wagon is a four-wheel drive rolling mini kitchen. There's a follow-behind vehicle for emergencies that meets us at different points along the way, and one of the trucks that meets us at each checkpoint even has fold out shower stalls. We do take turns getting a shower, depending on what day it is, because you're right...we're there to work, not to have a vacation. But it's nothing like the olden days when you might die of a scorpion sting because there was no way to get help."

"I think it would be an awesome thing to do as a family, gathering your kids and taking off for a few days..."

"Um...days? The cattle drive is about two weeks long," Casey said, cringing as he waited for her reaction, which was sure to be loud and screechy.

"Oh. I didn't realize it took so long. Well, I'm sure it will be interesting at the very least."

"It will be and if you're going, I'll make sure you enjoy yourself," he offered, but in a concerned way, not a provocative way like most other guys might have meant it.

"Oh, no, you don't, Mister! You're not going anywhere on that leg! How can you possibly drover cattle for two weeks in a cast? The trip is only three weeks away. There's no way you'll be healed enough to go." Miranda's eyebrows knitted in concern, picturing Casey being thrown from a horse or crushed while trying to navigate the trip on a broken leg.

"Hey, I appreciate your concern, but I'm a Carson and I have a job to do. Even if I have to drive a truck or cook the food, everyone pitches in around here. If you can't do one job, someone'll be sure to step up and find you another one. Speaking of which, how are you keeping busy since you got here?" he teased. "There's plenty of stalls out there that need shoveling."

"There will be time for shoveling horse poop after I am done dealing with your crap," Miranda shot back sarcastically. "Now you need your rest," she said, rising from the bed. "I'll be back later to check on you." Casey grabbed her hand as she started to leave, turning her around to face him.

"Thank you, Miranda. For helping me, and for staying. I really mean that." He looked so little-boy-lost, her heart froze in her chest for a beat. She leaned down and kissed his soft mouth, letting her hand come to rest on the warmth of his scruffy cheek. She stood up and left, smiling to herself.

#  Chapter thirteen

Bernard hung up the phone and looked out one of his office windows, noticing the group of five kids following behind their teacher in a cluster, headed off to do something no-doubt science related in a field somewhere. He was thrilled to see that Gracie no longer hung back behind the four rowdy boys like she did when she first arrived but was right in the middle of the fray, pushing and shoving as much as any other ranch dweller. It was amazing what change a few weeks of sunshine, fresh air, and farm life had done for the quiet girl who'd seemed so lost, so out of place when she arrived.

"Boys! Come in here a second!" Bernard called out when his two oldest sons passed his office door. "I was just about to come outside and tell you."

"What's up, Dad?" Carey asked as they both settled into the chairs facing the older man's desk. Casey leaned back and stretched out his injured leg, glad to be in a walking cast now and enjoying the easier mobility it brought him. Maybe he wouldn't be stuck driving a rolling grocery store during the drive, after all.

"That was the county district attorney on the phone. Jack confessed!" he yelled, smiling broadly. A weight had been visibly lifted from his shoulders at the news that his son would be free of this shadow over him.

Carey threw an arm around Casey's shoulders and congratulated him. "So this means Casey can go on the drive now?"

"Wait, what? You two weren't going to let me go?" Casey demanded, hearing this news for the first time.

"Not us, son, the prosecutor. He agreed to let you stay on the ranch because...face it...where were you gonna go out here? That's why they didn't bother locking you up while they sorted this out."

"Well, that, and plus the fact that you own the largest family-owned ranch in this half of the state, right?" he shot back, wondering if money had changed hands over his not having been arrested.

"No, son, nothing like that. They just knew there was no evidence of wrongdoing on your part. The only reason they were able to keep Jack so long is that he had warrants out for his arrest and had failed to check in with the parole office every time he went out on the drives. It was just a technicality, but it was enough to keep him locked up until this was underway. But, enough about that. Sometime later today, we need to talk about the logistics of who we're placing in what roles next week."

They agreed to meet later, and the twins went off in search of lunch. Casey's heart danced a little when he entered the kitchen with the second wave of hands and found Miranda, elbow-deep in cleaning a pot leftover from the first lunch wave. He tapped her on the shoulder but before he could speak, Emily barked, "Don't you even think about taking that one! She's the only one around here who doesn't mind getting her prissy fingers a little dirty when giving my pans a good scrubbing!"

The other helpers in the kitchen shot pretend looks of rage in Emily's direction before laughing out loud. "We just knew you'd give Miranda the scrubbing duties if she did it better than we did!" They doubled over, patting Miranda on the shoulder as they did to let her know it was all in good fun.

"In that case," Emily bellowed, "get her outta here. These two can take over. 'Course, it'll take the two of them to equal the work of one Miranda!"

Miranda wiped her hands on a dish towel and threw it over her shoulder, accepting the plate Casey held out and following him to their usual spot on the back porch, where they'd been eating lunch together recently. Between these stolen lunch dates and the few times they'd been able to spend the evening sitting together in the rocking chairs on the front porch, there wasn't enough time in the day to just get to visit and get to know each other. But the times that she did get to spend with Casey, rocking side by side and holding hands, she knew it was something she could see herself doing for the rest of her life.

Casey took her plate from her hand as she settled on one of the steps, then handed it down to her before joining her. He took a long drink of his sweet tea before starting to eat. "Been busy today?" he asked around mouthfuls of food, something Miranda didn't mind because time was of the essence during all the mid-day meals. It was eat and talk or eat _or_ talk, which explained the atrocious table manners Bernard had hoped she would fix in all of his men.

"Not terribly busy, mostly just pitching in here and there. I helped Gracie with the stalls this morning, just to catch up with her a little bit. I feel like she's always on the go out here," Miranda said with a laugh between forkfuls. "But it warms my heart every time I see her out riding or even doing some mindless chore other kids might complain about. She had the chance to ride on the back of the hay truck the other day and call out to the driver to let him know if anyone fell off the back, and you'd think she'd been given the job of driving it instead of just sitting there!"

"Wow, that's a real testament to what the other guys think of her," Casey explained, pride showing through in his voice.

"Why do you say that?" Miranda asked, alarm rising in her tone.

"Because that's not a real job," Casey admitted, smiling weakly as he explained. "No one's going to fall off the hay truck and even a guy somehow managed it, the hay truck only goes about fifteen miles an hour. The guy could just run and catch up to it. It comes from that old phrase, you know, 'He just fell off the turnip truck!' They just want her to feel included around here, and...well...word kind of got out about what almost happened to her back in New Jersey. The guys just want her to feel safe and needed, but more importantly, it's a way to keep an eye on her. Nothing can happen to her if she's busy doing something under their big brotherly watch."

Miranda was speechless. She knew that many of the hands here at the ranch were the children and even grandchildren of former ranch hands at Carson Hill, but to know that they truly felt like a family left her speechless. She teared up a little bit at the knowledge that some fifty burly cowboys were looking out for her sister, protecting her in a way Miranda had not been able to.

"Hey now! What's wrong? Why so sad?" Casey asked, brushing Miranda's hair back from her face. She started to cry for real when he noticed, so he slid closer and held her to him as she let out some of the emotion that had stayed firmly locked inside her since getting on the bus that had brought her here.

"I'm fine," she sniffled. "Really. It's just so great the way these guys care so much. They're so busy, most people wouldn't want a surly thirteen-year-old underfoot. It's really special that they would go to the effort to watch out for her. Like the way you watch out for me."

Casey held her and rocked slightly, murmuring his agreement. He lifted her chin with a gentle finger and looked down into her eyes. "That's what our family means to us. It's what you mean to me." He bent down and kissed her softly, feeling her melt into him as another piece of the anger and pain that had kept her at arm's length slowly broke off and fell away.

"Oh, geez, I'm so sorry," he said, sitting up and looking around. "I have to get back. I had no idea what time it was. I'll find you sometime after dinner, okay?" He stood up to go and offered her his hand to help her up, then quickly kissed once more before running back through the kitchen toward the barn, leaving both of their plates on the counter top as he passed. Emily beamed when he called a brief "thank you for lunch" to the kitchen staff, and the surprised woman then looked to Miranda and nodded her approval. Miranda laughed quietly, watching as more and more ranch hands stood up and left the kitchen in a far more orderly way than she'd ever seen, most of them stacking their plates near the sink and mumbling a quick thanks as they passed.

"I don't know what kind of witch power you have over him, honey, but I'll take it!" Emily said, causing the younger ladies to openly laugh. Miranda just returned their smile and gave an exaggerated sway of her hips as she walked the length of the kitchen. She stopped at the door, turned, and shot them a knowing look, only making the three women laugh even harder at her antics.

#  Chapter fourteen

The three men—Bernard, Casey, and Carey—talked late into the night about the plans for the drive. Seamus and Jacob had long since left to do their homework and go to bed, and Joseph had fallen asleep on one of the sofas facing the empty fireplace. Anders had tried to stay up but was slumped over at the desk next to his laptop, asleep with his head folded on his arms.

"With this many head to move, and this many outsiders coming along on the trip this time, we're going to need everyone," Casey argued again as his father and his brother tried to convince him to take a less physically taxing job. "Besides, I don't need two feet to ride a horse."

"Hmm, that sounds a lot like the argument I've been using for years every time you two try to talk me out of the saddle." Carey and Casey exchanged a guilty look. "I'll let you keep to the front, but you have to swap out days. One day in drovering, one day driving the truck. And that's my final answer. If you are hurt again, we'd be days from getting you help. It's not just about you this time, either, but if we had to wait for medical crews, we could lose half the herd while people attended to you."

Casey nodded, irritated at being stuck in the back of the drive like a little girl, but knowing his father was right.

"Did you really invite Miranda?" he asked, changing the subject off his injured leg.

"Didn't you want me to?" Bernard asked, worry coloring his expression. "I thought you two were getting along great. I just assumed you'd like having her along."

"Oh, I guess I do," he answered nonchalantly, not fooling the other two for even a second. "I just didn't know what you expect her to do. She's adapted pretty well out here, but she still doesn't really know what goes into making the drive."

Carey spoke up. "What if we put Miranda in charge of the city people?" he asked, speaking of the dozen or so people who paid decent-enough money to make the trip, like a working vacation for people who didn't get to spend enough time outdoors. Their presence on the drive was almost never helpful, and every so often, they were actually very much in the way.

"Well, that would be a good job for her," Bernard agreed, "but what would she do? You can't put someone in charge who hasn't been on the drive before."

"Could Paul and Gary help her? We've been looking for a way to include them, but they're just not up for it this year. Paul just had surgery last month and Gary only finished chemo three months ago. This way, they could be useful and be needed, but not have to do anything they aren't physically ready to do."

"That's a perfect idea, Carey!" Casey said with a grin. "They've done this so many times, they could do it blindfolded in the dark, so they'll get to help out and the city people will have two seasoned drovers to look out for them."

"I like it," Bernard said, agreeing. He was too close to the days when he'd no longer be able to go on trips like this either, and hated to think of leaving anyone behind because their frail bodies betrayed them. "Okay, wake those two up and let's all get some sleep. Casey, I want to talk to you for just a minute before you go to bed."

A little while later, Casey knocked lightly on Miranda's bedroom door, hesitating in case she had already gone to sleep. He was about to turn away when she opened the door a crack, keeping out as much light from the hallway as she could so she didn't wake Gracie. Casey's heart nearly stopped at the sight of her in faded flannel pajama pants and a soft, worn-out t-shirt, with no makeup and her hair in a loose ponytail. She had never looked more beautiful.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly, looking around in the hallway for any sign of a problem.

"Nothing, I'm so sorry I woke you up. I didn't get a chance to talk to you after dinner, and I wanted to know if you wanted to go do something with me tomorrow."

"Really?" she asked with a broad grin. "Just the two of us?"

"Don't get too excited," he warned playfully. "It's just one of those chores we have to do every so often, but it takes all day and I thought you might like to come along and keep me company."

"Sure!" she said, still trying to whisper.

"You don't even know what it is," he joked. "How do you know I'm not taking you out all day to dig around in the pig pen?"

"I wouldn't care," Miranda promised him, a content expression on her face. "There's so much to do around here, there's just never enough hours to get to know you. I'm sure whatever we have to do, you'll make it fun."

"Well, it is partially a picnic. I'll wake you up at four, okay?"

"FOUR? You mean, the four that happens in the morning?! You didn't say it was a breakfast picnic!" she said in mock horror.

"Well, it's a breakfast-lunch-late-snack picnic and if we run into any trouble, it becomes a dinner picnic too. Dress comfortably!" He kissed her quickly goodnight and turned to head down the stairs and back to the field house beside the barn, where he'd been sleeping since she arrived. Miranda watched him go, enjoying the view of his tight-fitting t-shirt and well broken in jeans, fitted to his hips just so, the effect both accommodating his work belt and making her knees go weak. He looked up at her from the front door and waved goodnight and Miranda closed the door softly to her bedroom, crawling in bed once more and giggling to herself at the thought of getting to spend the whole day getting to know Casey better.

The next morning, Casey knocked on her door and finally opened it slightly when she didn't answer. In her mind, Miranda had been having another nightmare about Mike, dreaming he'd come after her and found her. When the door to her room opened, she sat bolt upright and yelled quietly, her breath coming too fast.

"Hey, Miranda, you okay?" Casey called from the safety of the hallway. It took her a few seconds to answer as Miranda looked around the darkened room frantically, trying to get her bearings. Even after she realized she'd been dreaming, and unsettling feeling still plagued her.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll be right out," she answered, turning and placing her feet on the floor. Thirty minutes later, she stepped out of the dark bedroom and pulled the door shut behind her silently so as not to wake Gracie. She turned and screamed when Casey was right behind her, then stared wide eyed as he placed a hand over her mouth to keep her from waking everyone on that floor.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, taking his hand down after he saw she recognized him. She nodded silently and started down the staircase. Casey took her hand and led her to the kitchen to grab something to eat before they headed out, and Miranda was surprised to see Emily and her staff already at work, whisking dozens of eggs into a giant mixing bowl and rolling out whole piles of dough to make biscuits. Behind the counter, another woman laid out strips of bacon on a long metal sheet, tearing them off of what looked like an entire pig's worth of the meat.

"Did you wake these people to make us breakfast?" Miranda asked, worried for their lack of sleep. Casey didn't get the chance to answer before Emily called out.

"Oh, honey, don't worry about us. The first group will coming for breakfast in about thirty minutes." She went back to rolling out dough and cutting out the biscuits with an upside down water glass. Miranda frowned. If the first group would eat soon, that meant that all over the ranch there were people already up and about their business. How much work went on behind her back as she lounged in her bed? Miranda vowed to take a more serious interest in helping out.

"You ready for this?" Casey asked, leading her to the front door of the house. Outside, a massive vehicle waited parked at the end of the path that led to the road. The only way to describe it would have been if a pickup truck and an Army tank had decided to have a baby. Its six enormous tires—two in the front and four in the back—reached higher than Miranda's waist, and the window had been replaced with basket-woven strips of heavy duty fabric.

"Thinking of taking the truck for a spin?" Miranda teased, eliciting a huge, men-and-their-toys grin from Casey.

"You'll see why we need it today!" he bragged. He reached above his head and opened Miranda's door for her, then helped boost her up into the seat. "There's a regular seat belt here, but this harness above your head will come in handy later for more difficult terrain."

Casey closed her door and came around to his side, opening his door and leaping in, making sure to push off on his good leg. He buckled his own seat belt and turned the ignition over, letting the thunderous engine idle for a moment to warm it up. Through her open windows, Miranda could hear some of the animals protesting in fear from within the barn and finally understood what Casey had meant once about using the horses around the ranch instead of vehicles because they were less frightening to the herd.

He put the large truck in gear and swung out onto the dirt road that ran in front of the house. The row of headlights across the front and the top of the cab illuminated the road ahead, sending dozens of animals scurrying out of the way. When Casey pointed to something out Miranda's window, she gasped when she saw two pronghorn antelope eating on the side of the road, looking for all the world like they were chewing thoughtfully.

"They're protected, you can't hunt them here," Casey explained about the bored-looking animals. "They know we can't touch 'em!"

Miranda continued to stare out the windshield, leaning forward and placing both hands on the dashboard to get a better view. Casey grinned at the sight of his city-slicker, entranced by the sight of wildlife within arm's reach.

They drove for almost an hour, but turned off the wide dirt road just short of reaching the pavement that signaled the beginning of the town. The truck bounced and jostled for the first few hundred feet as it moved over the rain-washed gulley separating the ranch from the limits. Miranda gripped her door handle and her seat to avoid being thrown around the truck's interior, even with her seat belt firmly in place.

After the road, such as it was, leveled off some, Casey explained their errand. "Every so often, we have to drive the property line and look for problems."

"What kind of problems?" she asked, a hint of fear creeping into her voice.

"Oh, nothing terrible, but fences with holes in them, sink holes, places where someone may be squatting on the property, evidence of poachers, stuff like that. We wouldn't even handle it ourselves, we'd just make a note of it and let Dad know. If it's bad enough, we could radio back for someone to come out here." Miranda relaxed and leaned back into the oversized captain's chair again, watching out her window as the sun crept up over the hills in the distance, lightening the sky as it came into view.

"So, have you ever wanted to do anything besides work the ranch?" Miranda asked, not leading the conversation anywhere, but just making small talk.

"Nope."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Not even in a fit of teenaged rebellion?" she asked, curious at how someone could know from the moment he was born that he would work the farm.

"Nope. I've always known this is exactly what I want to do, and exactly where I want to be." He reached back behind him and retrieved a cloth bag, and handed it to Miranda with instructions to grab their breakfast. She passed him a wrapped biscuit and pulled out two thermoses of coffee, opening her own biscuit and nibbling at Emily's handiwork. "But what about you? Did you always want to be an accountant?"

"Oh, please. I don't think anyone ever dreams of being an accountant!" Casey laughed at her response before she continued. "No, it just seemed like something that would pay well and if there was one thing I learned growing up, it's that life is uncertain. You can't wait for someone to take care of you, you have to have a hand in it, too."

"I'd like to take care of you," Casey said, looking over at her briefly before looking back at the road in front of him. Miranda shuddered at his words, thrilling again at the man sitting next to her.

"How about we try to take care of each other instead? You know, give and take?" she offered, watching his face for any sign that he wasn't pleased at the thought. Instead, he smiled and picked up her hand, placing a kiss on her palm before putting both hands back on the wheel.

They drove along in near silence for some time, Casey pointing out things for Miranda to write in the small book he'd brought. He called out coordinates from the GPS mounted to the dashboard, having Miranda repeat them back to him as she wrote.

When lunch time finally rolled around, they had covered almost 400 miles of property line, with more left to cover. Casey veered the truck off the dirt path near the edge of a bright green pasture filled with gently flowing knee-high grass. He jumped down and pulled some items from the back of the truck bed, then went to work building a makeshift shade from a tarp tied to the sides of the truck and staked to the ground at the opposite corners with tent stakes. He helped Miranda down and handed her a quilt to spread out as he pulled down a cooler of drinks and a large plastic tub filled with their lunch.

"So, what do you think of the grand tour?" Casey asked as he put sandwich fixings and cold drinks back in their containers following their lunch. Miranda, content from a full lunch and a warm sun, leaned back against the large tire, Casey beside her.

"It's gorgeous, but how do you manage so much empty space?" she asked, marveling at the expanse of property. "You would need a helicopter just to look at it all!"

"You know, we've had to do that from time to time, especially if we lost a member of the herd."

"You mean, the ranch, right? You said the herd."

"No, I meant the herd. Of course, we'd go looking for a human member of the bunch too, no question. But if any of the herd wandered off, we'd go after 'em. Those animals make a fine steak but as long as they still have a heartbeat, they're every bit as much a part of the ranch as you or me."

"You think of me as part of the ranch?" Miranda asked softly.

Casey looked at her squarely before answering. "I absolutely do. You're here with us but more importantly, you stayed. You could have left. My father even offered to pay your way and compensate you for your time. Yes, I know about that part. But you stayed. That makes you part of the ranch, every bit as much as any Carson on the place."

Miranda was speechless. It had been so long since she had been a part of something bigger than just herself or Gracie's life, it felt good to belong, even if the circumstances that landed her here were a little different. She leaned her head against Casey's shoulder and simply enjoyed being beside him.

"Now seems like as good a time as any," Casey said, breaking their comfortable and content silence. "I had another reason for bringing you out here today. First, I wanted to show you the land that you would belong to if you decided to stay. But more importantly, I want to make your staying on with us official."

He reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a small black velvet ring box and held it between his hands for a moment. "I wanted to take you away from the house for a while, away from the hordes of people who might influence you, so I could ask you this.

"Miranda, it took me long enough to stop being a stubborn idiot and to realize I am in love with you. I would be honored if you would be my wife. Will you marry me?"

Tears ran down her cheeks as Miranda nodded her head, throwing her arms around Casey and kissing him forcefully on his full lips. He pulled back for only a moment, laughter playing at the corners of his eyes and causing him to smile.

"Wait! You have to put this on, quick!" he said as he held out the delicate diamond ring, pinched so tightly between his thumb and forefinger, his knuckle had turned white. "If I drop this, we have twelve hundred miles of land to cover to find it!"

Casey took her hand in his and slid the thin gold band on her finger, sealing it in place with a kiss to her fingertip. Miranda looked down at the ring and was moved by the way it seemed to belong on her hand.

"I didn't know what to expect when I got here, Casey. I'm so happy to say that the reality of being here is so much better than I could have ever imagined. Your home, your family, but mostly you, have made it amazing. I love you, Casey."

As they kissed, Miranda knew this was an entirely different feeling than even just a few moments before. This was no longer the hesitating feeling of hoping that this would all work out somehow; the man she was sitting on the ground with under a gorgeous, blue Texas sky was going to be her husband.

That thought made her feel bold, but more importantly, made her feel wanted. As she reached up to caress Casey's chest and opened the top button on his soft henley shirt, he froze for a fraction of a second, opening his eyes and meeting her gaze. The look he saw on her face melted any doubts he had and he basked in the expression of complete and total joy she wore. That look was something he wanted to see every day for the rest of his life, to know that this perfect person was utterly happy and content.

Miranda's hands shook ever so slightly as she continued opening the three buttons on Casey's shirt, watching his face expectantly for any sign that she should stop. She bit her lip when she reached the last button, knowing that now it was Casey's turn to decide. Was she still just some stranger his dad had dropped off on the ranch, who he was marrying because he was supposed to? Or was she someone important to him, but more importantly, someone he wanted?

He answered her unspoken questions by pulling his shirt off over his head, rumpling his light brown hair in an unbelievably sexy way. Miranda traced her hands down the lines of his chest, sighing when she felt the definition to his abs that a lifetime of hard work had put there. She glanced at his half-naked body and drew in her breath at the glorious sight.

Casey kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth hungrily as reached for the hem of her t-shirt. He slid one hand under the soft fabric and was excited at the warm, soft feel of her skin. He had never known this kind of intimate connection was possible between two people and he wanted to taste her for some reason, a reason even he didn't understand. He pulled back the fabric of her shirt and wove a line of kisses from the top button of her jeans up her smooth stomach, inching the shirt up as he went. He was ready for her to stop him, to realize he was still very much a stranger, but she never did.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his feathery touch light against the soft pink material of her bra. He looked up at her as he spoke, watching her face for any hesitation.

"Yes," she breathed, eager to feel his mouth against her sensitive skin again. He reached one hand behind her back and unhooked her bra, freeing her breasts and allowing him to relish in placing his hands beneath the weight of them. He paused for a brief moment as he laid her back on the quilt, the soft grass beneath them providing the most comfortable bed.

"I want you, Miranda, more than anyone else in the world," he said, his voice husky with longing. She ran her fingers through the tangle of hair hanging over his eyes and spoke at last, her voice barely managing a whisper.

"I want you, too."

***

As they made the turn to the midway point of the property—there was no way to see the whole ranch in just one day—Casey pointed out a point in the distant hills. "That over there is your property. There's a little cabin on it and a small barn, and a creek runs through it. That'll be our next field trip!" he promised.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Miranda insisted. "Today was simply incredible. The ranch is gorgeous, but I'd have spent it in the pig pen if I could have had you to myself."

"It was spectacular, if I do say so myself. I'm so glad you came with me." Casey flashed a broad smile at her before heading up a straight beaten-down path toward the main property. There had been so much to see, even while staring at endless acres of nothing, and Miranda had taken it all in like it was the most exciting adventure ever. That thought reminded him that he needed to explain the plan for the cattle drive, especially when they were leaving in only a couple of days. "You know, my dad was talking to us last night..."

"Another business meeting?" Miranda interrupted with a knowing smile. Casey nodded.

"...and we were talking about the drive. What would you say if we put you in charge of the city people?" Miranda's face froze.

"What are 'city people,' and who on earth would think I could be in charge of them? I need someone to be in charge of me, remember? The only riding I've done is around the ranch with Gracie!"

"That's the term for the outsiders who come along on the drive," he explained. "Many years back, when I was just a kid, Dad was approached by a travel agent about letting people pay to experience ranch life. For a time, we operated almost a small dude ranch, where city people would stay and learn things like horseback riding, roping, and stuff like that. The only problem was, those people wanted to experience the Old West, complete with gunfights, a sheriff's posse, eating beans by the camp fire, crap like that. They'd show up wearing the most ridiculous, impractical costumes, trying to call us all 'Slim' and 'Black Bart.' The final straw was when one guy arrived with a giant handgun he wore slung around his hips in a gun belt...the stupid guy didn't have the safety on and he shot himself in the ankle. That was enough of playing cowboy for Dad. "

"So, now, we still let people join the drive but there is a very clear understanding that they are here to work and learn. It's only a little bit aggravating having to watch out for people, but we do a better job of learning about them and explaining the rules. It'll be fine," Casey assured her. "You'll have two really great old guys to make sure all of you stay safe and get there in one piece. Your job would be more...diplomatic. Make sure they have a good time, don't go wandering off, don't do anything really, really stupid, stuff like that."

Miranda smiled and gave Casey's hand a squeeze. "If you think I can do it, then I'm in. I'm happy to help out. Gracie can help me too, right?" She hadn't actually brought it up, but Miranda had hoped Gracie would be welcome on the drive. If Gracie couldn't go, Miranda didn't see how she could go, either. They'd only been there a few weeks, and she didn't feel comfortable leaving her little sister behind. At the same time, she hated to start things off with Casey by having to choose Gracie over him.

"Sure, that'd be a great job for her. It turns out, I'll be driving one of the trucks every other day, so the days I'm in the saddle, she can ride near me and do more with the animals. The days I'm not there to watch out for her, I'd feel better if she stayed with you."

Miranda and Casey passed the rest of the trip back to the ranch making small talk, looking for wildlife, even talking about their future plans a little. It was the most serene Miranda had felt in a long time, but it was too short-lived. When they finally ended the day back at the house, Bernard was waiting for them, and standing next to him was the local sheriff.

#  Chapter fifteen

"I thought everything was cleared up with Thomas' murder," Miranda said quietly before they got out of the truck. "Jack confessed and everything, didn't he?"

"That's right. Maybe this is about something else?" Casey suggested, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out. He came around to Miranda's side and helped her get down as Bernard and the sheriff approached.

"Casey, Miranda, this is Sheriff Matthews. He's come out here to ask a few questions. Why don't you go clean up, Casey, and Miranda and I can talk to the sheriff in my office?" the older man said with forced kindness, a tone of concern in his gravelly voice.

"Ask Miranda some questions? What's this all about?" Casey demanded, stepping in front of Miranda slightly.

"I'll explain everything later, son, but for now, she needs to answer a few questions about why she was so eager to come to Texas." Casey couldn't quite see his father's expression, backlit as he was by the bright lights shining from the house, but he could hear it in his father's voice. Something had him upset, almost angry.

"No," he answered. "Miranda's my fiancée, and anything that affects her affects me, too. We'll both go inside." He held out a hand to her while still staring down his father and the sheriff. It was only after he took her hand and felt her tremors that he looked at her and saw the fear all over her face. His eyebrows went up, a questioning look on his face, but Miranda simply stared straight ahead as they began to walk up the porch steps, the sheriff following close behind.

Inside, they went to Bernard's office and the old man closed the door behind them, something he almost never did. There was never any ranch business so secret or a ranch hand so mistrusted that the door needed to be shut. Miranda couldn't have known that but for Casey, it was an all-too-real sign that something was seriously wrong.

"Miranda, like Bernard said, I'm Sheriff Matthews. We received a call from a detective with the New Jersey state investigator's office, asking about your whereabouts. Can you explain why that might be? What they might be looking for?"

Miranda sat completely still, desperate to be believed. "I don't know anything about it, I don't even know why they would know my name."

"How is it that you showed up in Hale, dragging a minor child with you?" he asked, very business-like but very grandfatherly at the same time. Miranda instantly liked him, and wanted to be able to answer him completely.

"Well, I don't know what Mr. Carson—Bernard—told you, but I answered his ad on an online dating site and when things back home weren't going very well, I took a chance and accepted his invitation to come out here."

"I see. And Bernard tells me that you haven't made any phone calls, written any letters, or even asked to so much as send an email since the day you arrived here. As far as he knows, you haven't used a computer to even check your Facebook account. Doesn't that seem weird that you and your sister would come all this way and basically disappear?" The officer looked at her quizzically, trying to be level-headed but leading her with his questions.

"That's because I don't have anyone to update. My parents are both gone, my ex-boyfriend is the last person on earth I want to talk to, and I never really had time for close friends. I don't even have a Facebook account."

"Hmm. But can you see why it might look like you're hiding out on this ranch? Don't you think it's awfully suspicious that you just pack up and leave, without even telling your landlord or your sister's school?"

Miranda sighed quietly, trying to look as innocent as she knew she was, but the sheriff was right. It did look odd. "Meeting the Carsons happened at a very...lucky...time for me. I didn't leave things on a good note with my boyfriend. I wasn't sure what was going to happen and when I had this opportunity, I took it. I had already been emailing back and forth and knew at the very least, the Carson ranch might be a good place to stay for a while and get my head together, even if things didn't work out with Casey. But I hoped for the best, and I found it," she said with a smile, reaching for Casey's hand. He took his fingers in hers, but he didn't return her happy expression. Instead, he watched the sheriff and his father with a grim look on his face, alternating between the two of them to try to understand what this was about.

"I guess that makes sense, but can you understand our point of view?" the sheriff continued, stressing the word "our" to mean that Bernard may be as concerned as he was. "You show up here, then the state you just fled wants to know where you are and why. They had to get your present location—the town, at least—off your credit card receipt for the bus tickets, so that means they've already been granted a warrant by a judge to look into your financial records. It just looks mighty odd, don't you think?"

"I completely understand why you'd think that. But I've got nothing to hide. I'll talk to their detectives myself, if that's what they want. That's all I can say," Miranda explained.

Sheriff Matthews looked at Bernard, who nodded his head briefly. The older man had stood this whole time, his arms crossed in front of him, weighing the situation. The sheriff smiled at Miranda and thanked her, then told her she would probably be hearing from the police in the next day or two before grabbing his hat and letting himself out. Bernard sighed loudly before smiling weakly.

"I guess you two must be tired, go on and get some sleep. Stop by the kitchen if you need something to eat first," he said, dismissing them as he sat down and went back to shuffling some papers on his desk. Miranda got up to leave, followed by Casey at a distance. She couldn't see the look the father and son exchanged before he left.

At the bottom of the stairs, Miranda turned to Casey and put her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his chest and looking up into his clear blue eyes. "That was strange, huh?" she asked.

Casey didn't respond for a minute, leaving Miranda to look at him in confusion. He took her arms from around his waist and stepped back somewhat, still gripping her wrists as he spoke. "Is there something I need to know about, Miranda? Something you're not telling me? Because if there is, you'd better tell me right now and get it out in the open."

Miranda stared in shock. "Of course not! How can you think that?"

"It's not every day the police make the hour-long drive out here to question my future wife, that's why! And he did say some things that make a little bit of sense. Why did you come all the way out here without even talking on the phone first? Yeah, yeah, I know," he said, when Miranda opened her mouth to protest, "my dad said there was only a satellite phone. But you still got on the bus and rode clear across the country without ever having talked to him? You must have been pretty excited to leave home."

"Casey, I can't believe what I'm hearing," she whispered. "I don't know what to say, I don't even know why the police want to talk to me."

"It just sounds a little too convenient the way the timing lined up, and the way you just skipped town like that. I hope you can understand why they might be suspicious."

"Sure I can. Your dad has a family and a ranch to think about, and a fortune invested in this place that he has to protect. But what I can't understand is why you'd be so quick to jump to conclusions. Remember, your dad is the one who reached out to me, not the other way around. I'm not the one who went trolling the Internet, looking for a mate for my kid, pretending to be someone I'm not. _That_ was your dad. _He_ contacted _me_ , not the other way around. If I was desperate to head out on the run from the cops and dig my greedy claws into a rich land baron's son, I'd have to be pretty stupid to sit around waiting, hoping the perfect situation landed in my lap." Miranda was close to tears at how their perfect day was ending, but even worse, over not being trusted. She turned to head to the bedroom at the top of the stairs, but stopped and turned to Casey one more time. "I hope you remember that when you were accused of killing a man, I believed you the second you said you didn't do it. No proof, no witnesses, nothing...I just believed you, even though I'd only known you for a day or two and most of that time had been spent watching you stare at me in disgust. I thought I could at least expect the same courtesy of the man I agreed to marry today."

Miranda left him standing at the bottom of the stairs and managed to make it to her room and close the door before the tears came. She heard footsteps on the stairs and listened for a knock on the door, but there was none. She cried herself to sleep, still wearing the clothes she'd worn for the best day she'd had in a long time.

The next morning didn't look any brighter. Miranda stayed in bed until Gracie awoke, then put on a good front and tried to answer the younger girl's questions about her day with a cheerful tone. There was no sense in worrying her before anyone knew anything.

When Gracie finally got ready and headed out to eat before going to the barn, Miranda bowed out, saying she was staying in bed with a book she'd brought, too exhausted from being gone all day yesterday. Hopefully, the younger girl didn't see anything wrong with Miranda's story, and seemed to believe it as she closed the door when she left.

Miranda stayed in bed all morning, trying desperately to concentrate on the book she retrieved from her suitcase to not think about last night. Instead, her mind kept returning to the look of mistrust and hurt on Casey's face, the look he'd worn as she walked away.

_This might be the end of it_ , Miranda thought, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. _I've lost someone I never even knew I wanted, and I'm back to square one: alone and heartbroken._ There was no use in pretending to read her favorite book. Who needed happy endings with Mr. Darcy when her own chances for ever finding her own happy ending had just gone up in smoke? Again?

At some point, she fell asleep, exhausted from the emotional turmoil and from going from content to elated to devastated, all in less than twenty-four hours. She couldn't tell how long she slept, but somewhere in that time, a strong floral scent worked its way into her dream.

Miranda dreamt she was standing in a giant pasture like the ones Casey had shown her yesterday, only this pasture was hundreds of acres of rose bushes. She could stand and breathe in the heavenly smell of millions of rose blossoms but she couldn't move, surrounded as she was by the thick growth of thorny stems. She could look, but not touch. In front of her, Casey stood with his arms outstretched, begging her to come to him, but the thorns were in her way. Suddenly, she heard a voice from her past behind her. Mike. He was crashing through the thorny field, oblivious to the small points tearing at his clothes and skin, his arms outstretched to get her and a sickening, furious scowl on his face. It would have been so real, but Miranda could see from his still wounded head, bashed in with the baseball bat back in her apartment, that this had to still be part of her dream.

She woke up suddenly, disoriented from having fallen asleep in the middle of the day and from the strangeness of the dream. Her eyes fell on the large vase overflowing with wildflowers that was standing on the table beside her bed, a large note tied around the vase with ribbon. Miranda flipped open the folded piece of paper and saw that it simply said, "I'm sorry."

_But sorry for what?_ she thought to herself sadly. _Sorry for last night, or for bringing me here in the first place?_ She looked down at the diamond ring on her finger and thought back to Casey's romantic proposal and their intimacy shortly afterward. Was it all for nothing, and did he want to go back on his proposal?

Miranda didn't have to wait long for an answer. She turned to lie on her back for a while and nearly came out of her skin when she saw Casey sitting on the foot of her bed, waiting for her to wake up. She looked at him for what seemed like an eternity, trying to read the expression on his face, but couldn't. Finally, he spoke,

"Miranda, I thought about what you said last night, and I'm so sorry," he said, his voice raw. She could see the dark circles under his eyes, which told her he hadn't slept well either, if he'd gone to bed last night at all. "You told me you were telling the truth, and I didn't listen. You haven't done anything to make me think that you came out here for any reason except the reason you've said all along. But as soon as it even looked like there was a problem, I started to question your motives and practically accused you of being a shameless gold digger. You didn't deserve that." He looked down at his hands where they fidgeted with the hem of his untucked shirt. Miranda noticed for the first time that he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, answering her question about how much sleep he must have had. "When I didn't see you come down for breakfast, I was so scared that you'd left, not that I could blame you if you did. Then, I finally saw Gracie out at the barn and this feeling of complete relief that I felt from knowing you had to still be here was...I just don't even have the words to say how glad I was."

Casey stood up and came closer to the head of the bed, kneeling down beside it like a man who was praying for what he desperately wanted. He took Miranda's hands in his and leaned closer. "I screwed up, and I know I hurt you. But I love you and I'm begging you to forgive me. You don't have to answer me right now..."

Miranda silenced his pleas with a powerful kiss, pulling him to her by the front of his shirt. He returned her kiss ravenously, gathering her in his arms and holding her so tightly, she almost couldn't breathe. She didn't care. It didn't matter if this was the last breath she'd ever take, as long as she did so with his arms around her.

Until that moment, their kisses had been tender and timid, romantic, as the two of them tried to overcome their lingering feelings of uncertainty. This was different. This was pure need for each other as Casey gathered her hair in his hands and broke free of her mouth to leave heated bites over her neck, working his way to her shoulder. Miranda moved back and pulled Casey with her until the two of them were tangled together on her bed, facing each other. He slid a hand down her bare thigh and pulled her knee up to his waist, pressing his hand against the small of her back, holding her against him as if he couldn't stand even air to come between them. She could feel how much he wanted her at that moment and hoped he knew she felt the same way.

Miranda pulled away long enough to pull her nightgown over her head and whisper against Casey's lip with a sexy smirk, "Lock the door."

#  Chapter sixteen

They got dressed a long time later, having passed the time exploring each other's bodies, making up for lost kisses last night, and talking in between. Casey asked Miranda if she wanted him to go downstairs first for propriety's sake but she pressed a finger to his lips then put her arms around him, kissing him once.

"I don't care who knows that we're finally together," she answered. "But if you want to keep things quiet for a while, I understand."

"Um, I think 'quiet' just went out the window," he laughed scandalously, jerking his head to the open window in her room. "We weren't exactly all that quiet a little while ago." Miranda blushed slightly and made a face, but eventually shrugged.

"I don't know, with all the racket the cows make, it's a wonder anyone can hear anything here. That's what I'm going to tell myself, anyway!" Casey laughed and kissed her forehead before pulling open the bedroom door and stopping suddenly when Joseph was there, one hand lifted to knock.

"Oh! Sorry, guys. Miranda, Dad said there's someone on the phone to talk to you. He's in his office and sent me to get you." Joseph looked from Casey to Miranda several times, piecing their relationship together.

"That must be the detectives," Miranda said, turning to Casey. "Do you want to come listen? I didn't know if that would relieve any doubts."

"No," he answered firmly, smiling at her. "I don't need to be there. I believe you, whatever it is you have to say. If you need me there, I'll be there. But otherwise, I'm going to head back to my work and just trust you." He pulled her closer in his hug before letting her go, swatting her playfully on the rear as she went ahead of him.

They kissed goodbye quickly at the bottom of the stairs, Casey returning to the pasture and Miranda stepping into Bernard's office after rapping on the door frame. He smiled broadly and pointed to the phone, getting up from his leather chair so she could have a seat. She picked up the phone but pressed a hand over the mouthpiece.

"Bernard...sorry, I mean, Dad...I offered to let Casey listen and he said he didn't need to. But I would feel better if you stayed. I want everyone to know I have nothing to hide, and that I don't have any secrets to keep." He started to argue but she put a hand up to stop him. "I know you can say you trust me, but you would be a little crazy not to have some kind of doubt. I would feel better if there was someone who had heard me answer their questions."

Bernard smiled and sat down across from her, pressing the speaker phone button and introducing her to the detective. He sat silently as Miranda answered every question, surprised like she was that it had nothing to do with her ex like she'd assumed but instead, was about her old job. As it turned out, one of the partners had engaged in some shady business dealings, and Miranda's disappearance only added to the appearance of guilt and collaboration. Once she convinced the detective what her limited job responsibilities had been and that the trip had been purely a coincidence, he hung up with a promise to keep her posted if there was any news, thanking her for her willingness to tell him what little she knew.

She hung up the phone and turned to Bernard, who looked at her fondly. "I am very sorry we put you through this, Miranda. I know you were very upset last night, and no one can blame you."

She nodded thoughtfully, and said, "I appreciate that, but I can also see how it looks from the other side of the desk. You have your ranch to protect, and then something comes up that raises questions. It doesn't feel good to not be believed, but I can at least understand that you were just concerned, for your son and for your family."

Bernard came around the desk and took Miranda's hands, standing her up before hugging her. "Thank you for understanding, and for forgiving. You are a very special person, and I'm so happy you're going to be a part of my family! Speaking of which, I noticed you have on a new accessory today, and I must say, it suits you!"

Miranda laughed, hugging Bernard again and telling him goodbye, eager to grab something to eat and visit with Gracie now that she was in a better mood, her spirits lifted and her heart light again. There was an upcoming cattle drive to get ready for, and hopefully after that, a wedding to plan.

"We're going _camping_?" Gracie shrieked sometime later when Miranda shared the plans as they rode in the corner pasture, getting the calves used to being around saddled horses. "Why? What did I ever do to you? I've never hurt a soul, I'm a good kid who eats her vegetables and doesn't back talk. And you're making me go camping?!"

"What's wrong? I thought you'd love the chance to go on the drive, to be outside with the cows and your horse all day, doing cowgirl stuff. What's not to like?"

"Oh, I don't know, how about bugs, snakes, sleeping on the ground, eating cold food next to a puny campfire, not getting to shower, peeing behind a bush...the list goes on!" Gracie whined before putting on a full-on pout.

"I think you're going to be pleasantly surprised," Miranda explained. "I thought it was going to be like the old western movies, too. But there's actually a fully-modernized kitchen truck that meets us at all the stopping points for meals, there's a bathroom and shower truck, and stuff like that. You and I have been assigned the job of helping the new people who come out here just to take part in the drive. You know, people who actually pay good money to get to go 'camping'!"

"Oh, goody, I get to spend the whole trip next to you, listening to these people complain about how their chuck wagon food isn't a four course meal!" She slumped her shoulders and frowned while still making wide circles around the calves.

"Well, smarty pants, I didn't tell you the best part. Every other day, Casey will be riding and he said you could switch off and come up front to help him with the herd! So there! You'll only be stuck with me and the newbies on the other days," Miranda said, teasing her sister.

Gracie brightened a little bit at the news, as much as any disgruntled teenager who isn't getting her way can. They rode some more before Gracie changed the subject. "So, I can't help but notice you have some new jewelry...have you guys set a date?"

"Well, considering I got the new jewelry yesterday and we almost broke up last night, uh...no." Gracie stared at her sister and begged for the details, but Miranda didn't want to talk about her initial fears that Casey simply didn't trust her, and she certainly wasn't going to talk about how they made up this morning. They spent another hour circling closer and closer to the tiny herd of calves until they could get fairly close without the little guys getting too skittish. They stayed out long enough to let all the ranch hands make their way through the lunch waves then headed up to the house, stopping at the barn to put up their horses.

As Miranda and Gracie approached the front steps of the house, two women who had huddled together on the step stood up suddenly, looking around before the younger looking one spoke. "Is your name Miranda?" she asked quietly, almost like she was afraid someone would hear.

"Yes, I'm Miranda. And you are?"

"Don't worry about that. We had to come out here and talk to you for just a minute, then I promise we'll leave." The girl who was speaking wrung her hands, and Miranda noticed the other woman kept her arm linked through hers, her eyes darting around as though she was afraid of being spotted.

"You don't have to leave. Come over here and sit down." She led the girls to the rocking chairs after telling Gracie to go inside and wash up. "Tell me what's wrong."

Dee and Emma looked at each other nervously before Emma spoke up. "I don't know if you know this, but we work for Mack. He owns the bar in Hale." She looked away for a second, and Miranda had a sudden flash of where she'd seen these two girls. Luckily, they were clothed this time. Emma continued, saying, "We overheard a drunk guy in Mack's one night talking tough, saying real ugly things about his girlfriend. Some of the guys were giving him a hard time about letting his woman run all over him, and he started yelling that no woman ever treats him that way, that he's beaten her before and that he'll do it again. Then he starts talking about how he knows she's 'around here somewhere,' how he's got her credit card and he knows she's here. Right about then, he just up and starts accusing Mack of stealing his girlfriend, and he rushes at him like he's gonna punch Mack. 'Course, the man's completely plastered so he didn't make it far, but that didn't stop Mack and a couple of the other guys from hauling him out behind the bar and beating him to a pulp."

Miranda swallowed nervously, instinctively knowing what was wrong. Just then, Casey ran up on the porch and stopped short, looking over the two girls with a little bit of disgust.

"What are you two doing here?" Casey demanded, staring them down. The girls looked to Miranda and didn't say anything. Miranda turned back to the girls, ignoring Casey's question.

"And why did you think of me?" she asked, worried about their answer. They nodded for a second, then Dee explained.

"Well, he talks like an out of town person, and we heard rumors that there was a girl on the Carson place who was new. We just put two and two together and figured you'd run away, like we did, you know?"

"If you're the same girl he was talking about," Emma interrupted, "that man's gonna kill you. He said so. He said no one gets away with running out on him."

"And just like that, the two of you drove all the way out here?" Casey asked, narrowing his eyes a little bit.

"No, sir," the younger girl said. "We walked. It took us all night because we had to wait 'til Mack passed out."

"You walked? All the way from Hale?" Miranda asked, suddenly worried for the two girls. "Casey, go tell Emily they need something to eat. Quick!" Casey looked from Miranda to the girls and shook his head, but went inside anyway to do as he was asked. "How did you possibly make it all this way?"

"We just had to let you know, and there wasn't any other way to tell you."

"Well, you won't have to walk back to Hale. I'll make sure someone gives you a ride."

"We can't go back there," Emma said quietly. "If Mack found out we left, he'd..." She stopped midsentence when Dee grabbed her arm roughly. Miranda just looked at them, gratitude for what they'd done and what they'd risked mixing with the need to help them.

"What can we do? How can we help you two?" she asked, nearly begging them to let her do something.

"If you can find out when the bus is arriving and put us on it, that would be more than enough. It would get us out of here for good," Emma said. "I know it's a lot to ask, but there's just no way we can go back there."

"Absolutely. Consider it done. I'll look it up and get the tickets, and make sure you are delivered directly to the bus by as many cowboys as it takes to make sure you get out of there safely!" Miranda promised them, putting aside her own worries that Mike had found her and thinking more of the two girls—barely older than Gracie, judging by their looks—who had risked their own lives to protect hers. "Come on inside and we'll find out when that bus is arriving. We'll see what's taking Casey so long with some food, too!"

They stood up and walked into the foyer just as Casey appeared with two plates, obviously intending for them to eat on the porch. Miranda looked from the plates to Casey's face and waited, crossing her arms over her chest and daring him to say something rude.

"I was just coming out to see where our guests would like to sit," Casey said with a forced smile, melting Miranda's heart.

"We need to use the computer, so can they eat in your dad's office?" she asked, smirking when he swallowed loudly before answering.

"I'm sure they can," he replied in a pinched voice, turning and leading the way. The office, full of a handful of men with various jobs on the ranch, grew instantly silent when the small pack appeared in the doorway. Casey spoke, keeping his forced smile in place as a warning to everyone else to just go with it. "Hi, Dad, we were just wondering if we could look up something on your computer. It'll only take a minute, then we'll be out of your hair."

Bernard looked thoroughly confused, but silently got up from his seat as the men quickly fled the now very crowded office, some of them looking down as they passed to avoid anyone noticing that they already knew Dee and Emma very well. He took a seat and leaned back on one of the sofas as Miranda went to work at the computer, Dee and Emma sitting perched on the office chairs as though they were afraid of getting them dirty. After asking them for the information on their destinations, she typed and clicked the mouse for a long time, the frown on her face increasing as she worked, the frightened expressions on the girls' faces growing more pronounced.

"I'm afraid we have some bad news," Miranda finally announced. "The only tickets that will get you where you want to go are going to end up costing more than if you took a plane, what with all the bus changes you'll have to make." The girls' faces fell, and Emma began to breathe very rapidly. "But...but...let me do some more digging and I'll see what we can come up with, okay? Don't worry. For now, I know you guys walked all the way and the only reason you did it was to protect me. I feel like I owe you for that, so how about we trade? You can clean up, have something more to eat, we'll get you some fresh clothes, and you can stay over tonight as my guests." The girls looked surprised and thrilled, while Casey and Bernard looked surprised and alarmed.

"Come on, Gracie will take you upstairs and help you find everything you need." Miranda came out from behind the desk and hugged the girls tightly, not caring about the slight smell coming off their clothes or the open sores on their skin that signaled recent heavy, repeated drug use. These were two human beings in need, and they had done the impossible to warn her. She took them upstairs, telling Gracie to take care of them. Bernard and Casey were waiting for her when she came out of the bedroom, looking none too pleased.

"I know," Miranda began, putting her hands up in defeat. "I know what you're thinking, but we have to do something."

"Miranda, I love your compassion but those two are nothing but trouble. They're drug addicts and prostitutes and even worse, if word got out that they're here, Mack is going to raise all kinds of commotion trying to get them to come back. Plus the fact that probably half the guys on this ranch have had some 'business' with them...we don't want to open our own brothel on the ranch," Casey explained, trying not to raise Miranda's ire over his judgment of the girls, but still trying to get her to see that having them on the property for even a minute was dangerous.

"I understand. But Casey...they _walked_ from Hale." Bernard's eyebrows went up in surprise as she continued. "They did that because...well, I'm sorry to create even more drama around here...they think my ex-boyfriend came all this way to find me and made some really threatening comments. _Really_ threatening."

She could see on their faces that the gravity of the situation wasn't sinking in. This went beyond some pining ex-boyfriend who showed up on her doorstep from a hundred miles away to beg her to come back. She had hoped to keep most of the details to herself but instead, she found herself having to explain about the abuse, both physical and emotional, about the times it had been so bad that she'd even had to go to the hospital.

"I just can't picture it," Casey said, shaking his head. "You're so strong, so out there. I can't imagine you letting some man treat you that way, and then coming back for more."

"That's because you know the person who won't let it happen ever again. But when someone treats you so badly for so long, you start to think the things he says are true and that the things he does are justified. 'If I had only been prettier, if only I hadn't forgotten to pick up laundry or pay his cell phone bill, then none of this would have happened.' After it happens for so long and you spend so much energy trying not to do things that will set him off, you start to believe you deserve it."

"But the night I found him on top of Gracie, it clicked. I knew this wasn't about me doing things that made him angry. This was just about him being a monster. Gracie was just lying there asleep, not bothering anyone. I knew then that this was just about how he treats women, how he does what he wants, takes what he wants, and hurts who he wants."

"But what are we to do about him now?" Bernard asked. "I can ask the county judge to help us file charges of domestic violence back in New Jersey so at least he will have charges against him on record, and then issue a restraining order to keep him off my property. But if he's really come all this way because he thinks he owns you, a piece of paper won't be enough to stop him."

"No," Casey interrupted, "but a piece of paper will go a long way toward justifying why one of us had to shoot him if he does come out here." Miranda was shocked by what he said and by the look in his eye, but knew that his overreaction was only born out of fear for her, and for Gracie. "From now on, at least until we get this all sorted out, you and Gracie stay close to the house and make sure you're never alone. If that means baking cookies all day in the kitchen, then so be it. Dad'll get that order and I'll see what I can find out in town." He kissed Miranda urgently on the lips, oblivious to the pleased expression on his father's face.

"But what about our new guests?" Bernard asked. "That has to be settled, too."

"Well, I can't speak for you or your family because I'm a newcomer here myself. But I feel like those two girls just earned those beds upstairs. I say we let them earn their keep around here until they've built up enough credit from us to get plane tickets to wherever they need to go."

"Earn their keep?" Bernard asked suspiciously, raising one eyebrow.

" _Not_ like that! You know, doing actual chores, things that need to be done."

"Miranda, that's a really noble idea and I would never turn away someone in need but this isn't as simple letting a stray dog come in out of the rain. If those girls are on drugs, it's going to get ugly when it leaves their systems."

"And what better place for that to happen than out in the middle of nowhere on over a thousand miles of property? Better yet, let's put them up at the house you bought me. It's small, it's isolated, Mack will never find them, and they can scream, cry, throw up, whatever,...all away from the prying eyes of the ranch." Miranda seemed pleased with the solution, but Casey still looked skeptical until Bernard interceded.

"You know, the teacher who stays out here and tutors all the kids used to work in a rehab facility. That's why she came out here, she'd spent too many years trying to get through to kids who were determined to ruin their lives. What if she stayed out there with the girls for a few weeks? When the girls are ready, we'll send them on their way with a fresh start. We'll get the doctor out here to look at them as soon as he can come and as soon as they're ready and have spent a week or two getting fresh air and plenty of food, we'll set them up at Miranda's farm."

Miranda smiled at the old man and hugged him, knowing now he had a soft spot for people in need, especially young people. After all, it's the reason he never questioned Gracie's presence with Miranda. It was decided, so Miranda went upstairs to talk to Dee and Emma and tell Gracie the good news: she was going camping tonight.

#  Chapter seventeen

"I can't believe you gave away our beds to some total strangers," Gracie complained, shaking out the blanket and pillow and arranging it next to the roaring fire going in the fire ring. After telling Dee and Emma that they would sleep in their room, Miranda arranged for Gracie and her to sleep outside, as practice for the cattle drive. "And I thought you said it was all modern on the drive."

"It is, but we'll still be sleeping under the stars some nights." Miranda positioned her own blanket near enough to Gracie's that she could reach out and put a hand on her in the night, to feel that she was safely there. "Consider this good training for the ride."

Gracie humphed dejectedly, knowing this was a done deal. She crawled in her blanket and made a big show of trying to get comfortable over and over. Finally, she settled into a position, and Miranda stifled a laugh.

"Are those girls really in trouble?" Gracie asked quietly after they'd both become still.

"Yes, I think so," Miranda answered, waiting to see where this conversation was going and letting Gracie steer the talk.

"You mean with drugs?" she asked.

"Well, yes. And with some other behaviors." Miranda was ready to explain what those behaviors were to her inquisitive sister, but only if she asked. "How did you know they were on drugs?"

"You can tell by their skin. There's a lot of kids who looked like that at my high school back home. Everyone just knew to stay away from them."

"Yeah, but if everyone stays away from them, who's going to help them?"

"Don't people kind of have to want help before you can give it to them? Like you with Mike?"

Miranda stayed perfectly still, knowing that her answer would mean the difference in the entire conversation. "You're absolutely right. People can't see their own problems when they're living them, they have to have something that makes them step back and see the situation like an outsider would."

"And what Mike tried to do to me was that situation?" she asked, speaking of that night for the first time.

"Absolutely. It made me see him for what he truly is, a monster who doesn't deserve to be around people."

"Oh," Gracie answered, waiting for a long time before speaking again. "Then I'm glad he did it. If that's what it took to make you finally dump him, I guess there's some good that came from it after all."

Miranda sobbed silently at the wisdom from a teenager, but also that she had let it get to that point. "I'm so sorry, Gracie. Both for what happened that day, and for all the times you had to see the way he treated me. I never realized you were learning how to be a girlfriend or a wife by watching me let him get by with that. For your sake, if not for mine, I should have put a stop to it a long time ago."

"Well, if you had, you would never have met Casey," Gracie whispered in the dark.

"I suppose that's true. And I'm really glad I did. You know, I never did thank you for butting into my business and trying to play Internet match maker!" Gracie giggled at Miranda's tone of voice. "I didn't even know there were dating sites for cowboys, let alone think of setting up my profile on one!"

"Oh, there's all kinds of specific dating sites for different kinds of people. I happen to think it's really romantic," Gracie said. "People all over the world who like the same things can meet someone with the touch of a button. It's far better than imagining people wandering around for their whole lives trying to find someone, when that person could be right next door and they wouldn't even know it."

"You are one really cool kid, Gracie. How did you get to be so smart?" Miranda asked drowsily.

"The Internet," she said with a soft laugh, trailing off at the end of her last word as she grew sleepy.

Sometime during the night, when their fire had turned to a bright orange glow, Miranda felt something on her shoulder. She sat up, worried she wasn't alone in her sleeping bag and jumped when that something turned out to be a hand.

"Shhhh!" Casey insisted in a whisper. "It's just me!"

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Well, I've been sleeping way over there where I could keep an eye on you two. You woke me up because you were having a nightmare. What was it?"

"Oh, I don't even remember," Miranda replied in a sleepy voice. "It couldn't have been too bad if I can't remember it."

"I'm not sure I agree. You were yelling 'stop' over and over." Casey threw one arm across Miranda's front and pulled her to his chest, warming her back as he did.

"That could have been anything," she reassured him. "Maybe I was about to get sick on the merry-go-round like I did when I was four." She laughed quietly as she snuggled into Casey's chest, warm and content. "But why were you asleep out here in the first place?"

"Because you were," he answered dreamily, kissing her ear and squeezing her with his strong arms. Miranda turned her face toward for a real kiss, then settled back to sleep.

When the sunlight and the sound of ranch work woke her the next morning, Miranda was alone, a good thing considering Gracie snored softly nearby. She reached out a hand and shook Gracie on the shoulder, waking the girl so they could go inside. She then stood up and stretched, rubbing her neck to ease the soreness that had planted itself there during the night on the hard ground.

As the two sleep-weary campers entered the warm kitchen, Seamus and Jacob greeted them from the breakfast table, asking if they were ready to spend the next two weeks doing just that. Miranda and Gracie answered simultaneously but their answers were opposites, making both of the younger twins laugh. Gracie went over and sat down by Jacob as Miranda grabbed their plates.

"Are you guys really coming on the drive with us?" Jacob asked, eyeing Gracie's sleep deprived face warily.

"Yup! And we're going to have tons of fun, I know it," Miranda answered for both of them.

"Good! You're really going to like it, you'll see," Seamus answered. "Of course, just so you know, on the actual drive you'd get up about an hour earlier and get straight to work. Fair warning!" The three laughed when Gracie groaned and let her head fall to the table.

"Dad's looking for you when you're done with breakfast, something about the plans for the vacation people," Jacob said to Miranda, smiling especially for Gracie as the two boys got up to get to work. Miranda had seen the look that passed between the two of them and had to wonder if he might be part of the reason Gracie had quit complaining so much about the upcoming drive. The chance to spend two weeks away from the ranch with her own cowboy might have something to do with her attitude, causing Miranda to smile to herself.

She met with Bernard and came away with more questions than she had thought to ask, but at least had a good plan in mind of the kinds of activities the newcomers could engage in, as well as the ones they had to be careful to avoid. Miranda was given a series of signals to learn, little noises and code words the cowboys used to mean different things, both to each other and to the cows.

Then, there was the plan for Dee and Emma to arrange. Bernard had called in the teacher, Cyndy, and they spoke at length about what could be done from the isolation of the little cabin. Cyndy took a little convincing as dealing with this kind of hurting in young people was something she had put behind her, but she had remembered seeing the two girls in town and wondering about how they had come to be in that situation. She agreed to suspend her own ranch classroom for as long as it took to do what she could for the poor girls.

Finally, that just left packing for the drive as the group would leave in three days. All of the activity on the ranch had shifted into preparations for that event, and it would be no different for Miranda. She had already decided to take Casey's advice and stick close to the kitchen with Gracie, because there was so much food prep that had to be done for the trip. Not just baked goods, like he'd only half-jokingly suggested, but the staff did as much pre-meal preparation as could be done, with various ingredients being stored in vacuum sealed food bags then frozen, things like salt, sugar, and coffee being rationed into premeasured containers for each leg of the trip. Luckily, on a modern-era drive, someone could always be sent to the nearest store if they ran out of something, but the main problem was making sure the truck—which had to stick to major highways and paved roads—was able to meet up with the group who was herding mostly through the edges of towns to avoid holding up traffic.

The hard thing about the kitchen was the meals still had to get done, four meals a day with three rotations each. That left Miranda and Gracie to work in a tiny corner of the giant cook area, staying out of the way of the staff preparing meals even as they sliced potatoes or shredded giant blocks of cheddar cheese for the drive. They measured out portions of complete ingredients like the dry stuffs for cornbread to be individually bagged, labeling each bag with the ingredient and the amount.

Bernard came in while Miranda was elbow deep in portioning out small containers of vegetable shortening, her hands and forearms slick with the goopy white mess. "I have everything sorted out with the charges and the restraining order," he began quietly, looking pointedly at Gracie because he wasn't sure what Miranda had shared with her. "You'll need to speak to the prosecutor in New Jersey as soon as you can get free in here, but they have hospital records to prove the incidents so there isn't much to do other than give your statement. Fortunately, domestic violence laws have adapted so much to protect the victims, you don't have to return to the state to file the complaint. Come to my office as soon as you get the chance."

Miranda cleaned up and joined him by his desk, taking the receiver as he dialed the number from his notepad. All Miranda had to do was give an official statement with as many dates as she could remember, and otherwise, just confirm what the prosecutors had already uncovered. She returned the handset to Bernard, who thanked them and hung up.

"I've done some asking around in Hale and other people have seen this guy around. Unfortunately, no one has seen him for the last two days, so he might be already on his way here. I let Sheriff Matthews know, and he confirmed that we can take whatever steps are necessary to protect you if Mike tries to come inside. I know that thought might not be very comforting, but it's really all we can do," Bernard explained.

"You've done more than enough already," Miranda replied. "Maybe instead of coming here, he's realized how stupid and pointless this is and he's gone back home."

"We can hope for that, but one thing I've learned about jerks like him over the years is once they set their mind to what they think they're entitled to, they don't often back down until they're forced to. I just hope he's able to see reason before he sees the business end of any of my cowboys' fists."

Miranda shuddered at the thought, fully aware of what kind of pain Mike's fists were able to inflict. She nodded and thanked Bernard, then headed back to the kitchen to finish sorting supplies. Casey was waiting in the hallway with a pained expression.

"Do you have a few minutes to get away?" he asked darkly.

"Sure!" Miranda said, brightening at the thought of stealing some time with Casey, only to feel her smile fade as she watched his face. He took her by the hand and pulled her quickly toward the front door. Outside, he led her to a waiting gator truck and jumped in, revving the engine as she buckled up for what must be a bouncy ride. Casey tore out of the yard and flew across the pastures toward one of the outbuildings. Talk would have been impossible over the noise of the engine and the wind rushing past the completely open vehicle, but something about Casey's expression told her he wouldn't have been in the mood for talking anyway.

About twenty minutes later, Casey pulled up beside a cedar shack used for storing tools. A group of ranch hands milled about outside, guilty looks on their faces, some with their hands shoved in their pockets. As Casey took Miranda's hand and helped her out of the vehicle, they parted and made a wide path for the couple to reach the door. Casey stopped with one hand on the leather strap that held it shut.

"I brought you out here to see if this was your guy," he said, "and I'm sorry about the way he looks. If this is him, one of the guys found him holed up out on the ranch, armed with a gun, some duct tape, and a bag of zip ties. He took off but some things about ranch life never change from the olden days, because these guys formed a posse and went after him. When they tracked him down, they tried to talk to him, but things got...ugly." Casey swung open the door and Miranda gasped when she saw Mike, or what was left of him, bruised and bleeding. The only part that was more shocking was that he was hog-tied in a letter C, his arms tied behind him and meeting the tethers on his ankles near the middle of his back.

Mike opened his eyes when the light came through the open door, and it was about two seconds before he spewed out a string of profanities that would have embarrassed the devil himself. By the time Casey had heard enough and shut the door again, all that could be heard of his muffled voice were the words, "You're mine, bitch! You belong to me! You're mine!" repeated over and over.

"I guess that answers that question," one of the hands said with a snicker. "Good to know we had the right guy. We haven't gotten to round up the boys in a while, and I was afraid we were getting rusty."

Casey shot him an amused look that was at least supposed to be a reprimand, but even Casey couldn't stay angry, not with the feeling of relief from catching Miranda's ex-boyfriend coming over him. Miranda just stood there, bemused by the whole event.

"He really came out here, didn't he?" she whispered, fighting back tears. "I kept hoping it was all a misunderstanding, that it was just some other guys Dee and Emma had heard. I guess it was actually real."

Casey pulled her to him in a tight embrace as most of the ranch hands wandered back to their horses, one more task of farm life completed. Catch a bad guy, hog tie him in the tool shed, then get back to work. That was what it was like on the ranch.

The couple left three of the cowboys to deal with turning Mike over to the sheriff, after making them promise they would not drag him behind their horses all the way. "But part of the way, right, boss?" one of them asked, only half kidding. Miranda and Casey returned to the main house in the small truck, but Miranda looked with delighted surprise when Casey turned left on the dirt path instead of returning straight home. They rode out through the pastures at a much slower pace, their hands intertwined between them. Miranda scooted closer to Casey in the small vehicle and kissed him on the cheek.

"You're my own hero," she said in his ear before kissing his neck just below his ear. He shuddered at her touch, prompting Miranda to become even bolder, nibbling at his neck and sucking lightly at his earlobe. Finally, Casey couldn't take it any longer and deciding that they were far enough away from the house to be seen, he cut the engine on the small truck and pulled Miranda into his lap, leaning her back in his arms far enough to begin his own assault on the smooth skin of her throat. He kissed his way up to her mouth and slid his tongue deftly inside, kissing her passionately for a long time.

Casey slid one hand under the edge of her shirt until he cupped one breast, massaging it through the fabric of her bra as he sucked longingly on Miranda's exposed collarbone. She ran her hands through his hair and pulled her closer to him, tantalizingly tempting him by saying, "I don't know about you, but I don't have to be back any time soon..."

#  Chapter eighteen

The morning of the drive broke cold but clear, a sign that the sun would warm things up quickly. The guests who would be joining the drive this time had arrived late the previous afternoon, and Miranda had enjoyed getting to know them around a blazing campfire. She had asked each of them to share their names, where they were from, and what they were hoping to get out of the trip. She was surprised to find that two of the women on the drive were both hoping to build up their confidence after leaving bad situations, one having recently divorced and the other being dumped by a serial cheater. Miranda assured them this was the right place to discover what limits people were capable of, and then to push them a little farther.

After packing up their sleeping bags and washing up, the city crew—as they'd come to be called—headed in to breakfast. If Emily and her staff were able to feed an army every day of the year, it was nothing compared to the meal spread before them this morning. This send off breakfast was a celebration of sorts, filled with the last really plentiful meal any of them would eat for the next couple of weeks.

Gracie appeared at breakfast, eager to get on the road. As much as she had pouted about the drive, Miranda could tell she was now looking forward to it, probably because of Casey's renewed promise that she would not spend it stuck in a support vehicle the whole way.

The group set out immediately after breakfast, with different people assigned to different vehicles or to their various horses. Miranda was immediately bombarded by the noise of the cows as they moved along, called to with a whole distinct language of whistles and yelps by the cowboys. She wanted to cover her ears at the noise, but would have had to loose the reins of her horse to do so. Casey rode alongside her all morning, leaning precariously from his saddle to kiss her goodbye when they reached the boundary of Carson Hill Ranch. Miranda's city crew noticed the kiss, and a collective sigh of appreciation went up around her, causing her to laugh and color slightly.

"I didn't know kisses were included in the package," said one slightly older looking woman to Miranda's left with a sly, knowing grin, "or I would have signed up for that deal myself! You should be very happy, dear, he seems like a nice young man."

"Oh, he's the best," Miranda gushed before she thought anything of it.

"And I see that you're engaged," the woman said, pointing out Miranda's ring. "Have you two been dating long?"

"Well, let's see...next Thursday will be a month!" Miranda said, a teasing tone in her banter that hopefully made the woman think she was kidding. It must have worked, because the older rider threw back her head and laughed before slowing her horse to hang back for her husband.

The day ahead of her was a blur for Miranda as she took in the havoc of the drive. So much of the trip was spent making sure the enormous animals didn't wander away from the group, with a watchful cowboy sprinting off after a wayward cow from time to time. For her part, Miranda helped the city crew members keep watch for these animals and alert the ranch hands with their whistles, guiding them to push a cow back in if it hadn't wandered too far out of line.

At the end of the first day, Miranda was discouraged to learn that they were barely past the northern edge of the Carson property. _We're never going to get there_ , she thought dismally. It was only in trying to keep her spirits up for the vacationing would-be cowboys that she managed to keep a positive outlook.

After dinner, eaten as a group around the campfire while different cowboys took turns watching the grazing herd, Miranda and Casey managed to slip away from the others to be alone, talking over their day between heated kisses.

"I was kind of hoping Dad wasn't too serious about me being in the truck but it turns out, he meant it. I won't see you all day tomorrow, at least not until after dinner. I don't think I've gone a whole day without at least seeing your ponytail go flying by since you arrived here," he said longingly, giving her long hair a playful tug. "You be careful tomorrow, and remember, Gary and Paul are there if you need anything at all."

"I'll be fine," Miranda promised. "You just rest that leg and drive carefully. I expect to see you well-rested and energetic tomorrow night...I've got important plans for you and you need to keep your endurance up." She grinned at him mischievously and kissed him, knowing he took the hint.

"What a coincidence, I have important plans for you, too." His voice was hoarse with want.

"Oh, really? Why don't you tell me what those plans are," she suggested, licking her lips and beginning to unbutton her shirt. Casey's eyes followed her hands in the twilight, making him lose all reason. He shook his head slightly before answering.

"Nope. It's a secret. I could tell you, but then I'd have to ravish you from now until dawn." He pushed her hair back with one hand and began kissing her neck in a way that made her want to beg.

"You can keep your old secret, let's just get to the ravishing part," Miranda demanded in a breathy whisper, opening the rest of her shirt buttons to give Casey more access. He responded greedily, smothering her with kisses as he finished undressing her.

The next day was more of the same for the drive. Miranda could see why it was exciting for the ranch hands who went chasing after misguided members of the herd, but was having a lot of trouble understanding what would prompt the members of her small but determined group to pay to get to take part. She was quickly learning to hate cattle, and worked hard to keep that attitude from rubbing off on their guests.

By the time they were ready to make camp for the night, Miranda had never been so thrilled to see Casey's face. She tried not to let her discouragement at the long day interfere with their time together, short as it may be. When he left her and came back from the truck with a long garment bag in his hands, telling her to put it on, she momentarily forgot about his promise of a surprise and simply stared at him. How on earth was she supposed to wear anything that came in its own dress bag, given the filthy, sweaty, probably smelly condition she was in?

"Trust me," was all he said, flashing her his heart-stopping grin before running off in search of the rest of her surprise.

Miranda opened the zipper on the garment back and her breath caught. Inside was a beautiful but simple white cotton dress, with a note pinned to it that said, Marry me. Now.

She reached the gauzy fabric with one tentative hand, then was moved to tears by the wreath of flowers and thin veil hanging inside on another hanger. But how was this possible? They had paperwork to do, licenses to obtain. How had Casey managed this?

Worse, was this just a farce, a show for the paying customers? After all, the city crew had been sweet-talked when Casey kissed her goodbye. Were the Carson's really willing to put her on display to keep their customers happy?

_No!_ Miranda told herself, chastising her for her thoughts. _This is Casey, your future husband. This is no way to think about him. He's not...Mike. He wouldn't use you or hurt you for his own interests._

Miranda ducked into the pull along trailer behind the truck to change into the dress, forcing her concerns aside. When she did so, she gasped. There inside the truck was a roll out bed, made up with soft blankets and sprinkled with flower petals. Unlit candles waited patiently on overturned crates beside it, and a hand-lettered sign hung above the pillows that said _Honeymoon Suite_.

She laughed through her tears at the sweet effort Casey had gone to, then hurriedly unzipped the bag. Her hands shook as she took off her work clothes, wishing she had so much as a container of deodorant, let alone her makeup bag, anything to take the stench of two hard days' work off of her before she was married. As she tried to reach the buttons behind her, the trailer door opened and Gracie stepped in, already dressed in a beautiful, simple pink shift dress, a large flower tucked behind one ear.

"Need any help?" she said, smiling so widely, she could split her face in two.

"How did you rascals pull this off?" Miranda demanded, squeezing her sister in a tight embrace.

"Oh, just worked a little magic. We're still technically in Texas, so this was the last night to get you two hitched before heading on." Gracie turned her sister around and finish buttoning up the white dress, then helped her arrange her hair in something halfway romantic looking, Miranda's soft brown hair flowing down her back in large waves thanks to the tight bun she'd kept it pulled up in when she rode.

"Come on," Gracie directed, stepping out of the trailer. Miranda emerged and looked out into the late dusk sky, trying to see Casey. "Nope, not yet! He's waiting further on."

Gracie took Miranda by the arm, then reached out to the tongue of the trailer hitch and retrieved a bouquet of wildflowers, pressing it into her hand as they walked. Miranda could barely make out the flickering of a camp fire in the distance and knew that was their destination.

When they reached the secluded spot, far away from the watchful eyes of the cowboys and their guests, Casey was waiting for her, watching the darkness on the other side of the fire for her approach. He smiled when he finally saw her, small dots of tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.

Miranda stepped toward him and took his hand, thrilled to see only his immediate family there, and Gracie, of course, with her. Another man whom Miranda didn't know, not minister but a local judge, welcomed them all to this informal but blessed gathering.

She was swept up in a blur of emotion as passages were recited, prayers were offered, and vows were exchanged. Miranda heard Casey promise to love her and take care of her for the rest of his life, and she was overjoyed when the chance came to promise him the same. When Casey put a gold band on her finger, her heart dropped for just a moment until Gracie stepped forward with the ring for Miranda's husband.

The moment Miranda had waited for most was finally here, when the minister said those glorious words, "I now pronounce you husband and wife." Miranda didn't wait for any further instructions, much to the other Carson boys' delight, throwing her arms around Casey's neck and kissing him in front of God and everyone. Somewhere, Miranda heard quiet applause from her new family members, but all she could see was Casey's face.

When she finally turned to look at the group assembled, she was stunned to see more and more of the ranch hands emerge from the shadows, not wanting to encroach on her special moment but wanting to share in the congratulations. She was in turn hugged by nearly everyone there, still in awe of how this all came to be.

The best news of all came when Casey turned to her and said, "Let's go home."

"What?" she asked. "What about the drive? The herd and the city people?"

"All part of the surprise, my love! I knew from the moment I asked you to marry me that we wouldn't go this year. I just had to let you think you had important work to do so you wouldn't discover my secret plans!" Casey kissed her soundly before she could protest. "We're headed back, then on to our honeymoon in Cancun."

"But what about Gracie? Is she coming with us?"

"No," the girl said sourly. "I'm stuck with Emily for the rest of the trip." Then, she laughed. "Go on, have a great honeymoon. I'm in her capable hands and she's not about to let me out of her sight! I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

Miranda couldn't believe this could be real, as so much had happened in such a short time. She watched as one by one the cowboys who made up her new extended family wandered back to the campsite, headed to bed to get up early for another day of herding cattle. Everywhere around her, the farm life she'd known so little about continued on as usual, barely stopping even for the wedding of the firstborn in the next generation, who would work the land.

Casey pulled on her hand gently, letting her know it was time to go. They headed back to the trailer, still giddy from the ceremony and from the realization that—at least once the paperwork was signed and made official—they were husband and wife. They showered off the grime of the drive in the outdoor stalls then made their way to Casey's homemade honeymoon suite, where Miranda decided there was no more romantic place on earth than right there, with her own loving cowboy.

THE END

Thank you for reading and supporting my book and I hope you enjoyed it. Please will you do me a favor and review "Learning To Love" so I'll know whether you liked it or not, It would be very much appreciated, thank you.

#  Other Books by Amelia Rose

Stranded, Stalked and Finally Sated (FREE) (License to Love: Book 1)

Silver River Romeo (Rancher Romance: Book 1)

Silver Heart (Longren Family: Book 1)

Searching For Love (Carson Hill Ranch: Book 2)

Mending Fences (Texas Heat: Book 1)

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#  About Amelia Rose

Amelia is a shameless romance addict with no intentions of ever kicking the habit. Growing up she dreamed of entertaining people and taking them on fantastical journeys with her acting abilities, until she came to the realization as a college sophomore that she had none to speak of. Another ten years would pass before she discovered a different means to accomplishing the same dream: writing stories of love and passion for addicts just like herself. Amelia has always loved romance stories and she tries to tie all the elements she likes about them into her writing.
