

### LINDA BRIDEY & KATE WHITSBY

### Historical Cowboy Romance

### Two Book Box Set

### (Mail Order Brides)

~~~

Smashwords Edition

Both of these books are the first book of a series.

#  Copyright

Copyright © 2014 by Linda Bridey & Kate Whitsby

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.

First Printing, 2014

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 your favorite ebook retailer 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

Copyright

Westward Winds by Linda Bridey

1 - Chapter One

1 - Chapter Two

1 - Chapter Three

1 - Chapter Four

1 - Chapter Five

1 - Chapter Six

1 - Chapter Seven

1 - Chapter Eight

1 - Chapter Nine

1 - Chapter Ten

1 - Chapter Eleven

1 - Chapter Twelve

1 - Chapter Thirteen

1 - Epilogue

Violet's mail Order Husband by Kate Whitsby

2 - Chapter 1

2 - Chapter 2

2 - Chapter 3

2 - Chapter 4

2 - Chapter 5

2 - Chapter 6

2 - Chapter 7

2 - Chapter 8

2 - Chapter 9

2 - Chapter 10

2 - Chapter 11

2 - Chapter 12

2 - Chapter 13

2 - Chapter 14

2 - Chapter 15

2 - Chapter 16

2 - Chapter 17

2 - Chapter 18

2 - Chapter 19

2 - Chapter 20

2 - Chapter 21

2 - Chapter 22

2 - Chapter 23

2 - Chapter 24

2 - Chapter 25

2 - Chapter 26

2 - Chapter 27

2 - Chapter 28

2 - Chapter 29

Recommended books

Connect With Linda Bridey

Connect with Kate Whitsby

#  Westward Winds by Linda Bridey

#  Chapter One

Maureen O'Connor watched her eldest daughter once again turn down a request to dance. She sighed resignedly. This was yet another night wasted on her headstrong girl. Theresa O'Connor was beautiful, witty, intelligent, and completely bored with their society. None of the would-be suitors were up to her high standards because they, in her estimation, were also boring.

She turned back to the conversation between her husband, Geoffrey, and his long-time friend, Alex Winters. They were discussing some matter of business that really didn't interest her. Maureen knew her husband better than anyone and could tell Geoffrey had also noticed their daughter's dismissal of the elegant young man. His handsome visage tightened imperceptibly and his deep brown eyes reflected his disapproval.

She laid a hand on his arm and smiled slightly.

He arched a brow at her and said, "Do you find this amusing?"

"I find it aggravating _and_ amusing, dear. It's aggravating because these events thrown in her honor seem not to be doing any good. It's amusing because she reminds me so much of you. Always wants things her way," Maureen responded.

Geoffrey tried to keep the smile from his face but it was a lost cause. He knew Maureen was right. Geoffrey was caught between pride that his oldest offspring was so much like him and annoyance because he couldn't make her behave for the very same reason. "I'm glad you're enjoying this so much."

Maureen's smile grew. "Oh, no, Geoff. Not I. I think it's awful." She broke off into laughter, not able to continue as Geoffrey's look darkened.

Alex turned and watched their daughter sit with two of her friends and talk animatedly. "Tessa shot down another one, eh?"

Geoff grunted. "Yes. How does she ever expect to marry a good man if she doesn't give anyone a chance?"

His best friend turned back to him. "She knows what she wants and none of the men you keep thrusting upon her are what she's after, I'm afraid."

Maureen cleared her throat. "Maybe she's a little more like me in that respect. I, too, wanted something different and I got it," she said, with a gentle squeeze of Geoffrey's arm.

"As did I," her husband responded.

Alex grinned as he remembered their courtship. "And what a splendid time it was, watching the two of you duke it out. At times, it was hard to tell who the hunter was, and who the prey was."

"Some of both, as I recall," Maureen said.

"Agreed," Geoff said. "Well, wife, I suppose we should mingle and dazzle the masses with our charm and wit. Too bad dear Tessa hasn't learned any of that from us."

"Oh, I think she has it in spades. After all, she charms her way out of punishment enough," Maureen said and followed her husband.

"Oh, and did you know that Melinda Wainwright was caught sneaking around with Scotty Monroe? He's supposed to be courting Rachel Linden," Roxanne Carter told the other two young women she was sitting with.

Johanna Dillinger sat forward, "No! Who told you that?"

"I'm not going to reveal my sources, Jo," Roxanne said. "But, they are quite close to both of them. It's going to be quite interesting when it comes out, don't you think, Tessa?"

"Surely," Tessa said with no enthusiasm.

Her blue eyes, so like her mother's, scanned the ballroom of their family home for any sign of anything that might interest her. She'd had no luck so far.

"And wild monkeys flew down from the heavens and landed on unicorns that took them to the desert where they were eaten by naked old witches," Roxanne said.

"Too bad I'm not one of them," Tessa said.

Jo laughed behind a hand. "Which?"

"Either. It's not every wild monkey who gets to fly and ride on unicorns and it's not every witch who gets to sit around naked and eat monkeys," Tessa answered, smiling brightly at Roxanne. "You thought I wasn't listening. Fooled you."

Roxanne frowned. "Don't you want to know what's happening in the world? You have to keep on top of things so you can make good decisions."

Tessa gave a short laugh. "So knowing who's fooling around with whom is helping you to make good decisions?"

"Yes, actually, it is. It's helping me figure out what gentlemen are trustworthy and which aren't. That way I can make a smart decision about who I will marry and who will become the father of my children," Roxanne said reasonably

Tessa grew irritated. "That's all well and good for you, but I don't want to have that kind of future. None of this matters to me; the balls, the society rules, the endless parade of stuffy men. No, it's not for me and yet, I have no way out. I'm such a disappointment to my parents."

Jo laid a hand on Tessa's in consolation. "Is our life really so bad? I mean, we could be starving and penniless."

Tessa smiled, not wanting to distress her friends. "No, it's not bad, just tedious. I know that you and Roxie are quite happy to gossip and fret over the people in our circles, but I want something more exciting." Her eyes found her parents as they talked to another couple. Her father was proud and charismatic, and her mother, was almost delicately beautiful. They were a very popular pair. She'd heard whisperings of their tumultuous courtship and smiled now, remembering the stories.

There were times when she wished she could be more like her mother. She was respectable and always a lady. She had always been a wonderful mother and wife. Tessa knew she didn't have her mother's patience, however, when it came to dealing with society. She had trouble being dutiful and attending parties and brunches while appearing to enjoy them.

No, high society wasn't the place she wanted to be, but there was nothing for it. Her father looked her way, so she smiled at him, hoping he would think she was having a good time. She loved her father and didn't want to disappoint him, but also wondered how she could be true to herself at the same time.

Her father could always see through her smokescreens, though, and although he smiled back, it wasn't a smile of real pleasure. It was so no one would guess he was displeased with her.

Tessa's eyes dropped and she began teasing Roxie about all the horrible matches she could make to cover her feelings of inadequacy.

The following morning, Tessa sat at the dining room table with her mother and younger sisters. She read the daily paper, just as she always did. Geoffrey had already gone to his office for the day. He was an early riser and it was only on Sundays that he had breakfast with the family. However, he was always present for dinner unless something of urgency took place.

"Tessa, tell us about the party," her fifteen-year-old sister, Claire, asked. Her deep brown eyes were filled with excitement and her pretty little face eager.

Tessa's eyes never left the paper as she answered Claire. "Tedious. Simply tedious."

"Tessa!" her mother objected. "Do you know how much money we spend to throw these parties?"

"Mother, I keep telling you to stop throwing them because I'm not going to change my mind about them or suddenly start believing I'll find my true love at one. I won't," Tessa said, putting down the paper and looking her mother in the eye. "I love you and Papa for all you've tried to do and your concern, but I'm fine as I am. Truly. You should be concentrating on Madeline's coming out party."

Maureen sighed and fixed her poached egg. "I don't understand what it is you're looking for."

Madeline said, "Mama, if she doesn't want the parties, I think she's right. Throw them for me and for Claire when she comes of age."

Madeline was a carbon copy of their mother. Her blonde waves cascaded over her shoulders and her lovely blue eyes had an entrancing quality, as many of the boys her age had found. Unbeknownst to their parents, Madeline was quite the little flirt.

Tessa knew but wasn't about to tell on her sibling. She found it amusing as long as flirting was all that happened. She had been present during Madeline's sweet-sixteen party and had kept close tabs on her sister without anyone realizing she was doing it. Now, at eighteen, Madeline was developing a very womanly figure and would bear close watching. Her coming out party was only two months away.

Maureen said, "I will take this up with your father." Her tone was resigned and frustrated. "I think you are right and I think you are old enough to know your own mind, even if it is against what we want for you and what you should want for yourself."

Tessa's temper flared. "I fail to see that it's right for anyone to say what I should and shouldn't want for my life! Just because I don't want what society says I should want, why does that make me wrong? These people don't know me, they don't know what I think, what I feel. They don't care, either. Quite frankly, I don't care what they think of me."

Claire interjected, "But, Tessa, Mama and Papa have to live with these people. Think of Father's business. It's crucial that we don't embarrass them because it's Papa's business that keeps us living in the style we do."

Though young, Claire was highly intelligent and most likely a genius. She had a strong interest in Geoffrey's shipping business and his other ventures, and understood much of the operations even at her age. Geoffrey often took her to his office on Saturdays and unlike many men of that time, he was very proud that his youngest daughter was interested in the family business and had an aptitude for it.

Tessa sat back in her chair and considered what Claire had said. Sometimes, Tessa felt as if Claire had more sense than anyone she knew outside of her parents. She saw the wisdom in her little sister's remark. "I think you're right, Claire. I need to consider their feelings, too. It's only respectful to do so." She turned to Maureen. "Mother, I apologize for my quick words. If you insist upon throwing parties for me, I'll do my duty, but no more. I should be grateful for you and Papa taking care of me so well and I certainly do not want to cause you any shame."

Maureen smiled. "Although I thank you for that, I truly don't think these parties are doing any good. I think continuing them is futile. However, we will require you to go to a certain number of parties to which you are invited. Especially Roxanne and Johanna's parties. Oh, and you must continue the dinner parties we throw for your father's business associates. Is that acceptable to you?"

"Yes!" Tessa's smile was luminous. "I think those are very reasonable terms. Do you think Papa will agree?"

Maureen smiled sweetly. "Oh, I think I'll be able to convince him."

"Excellent!" Tessa said and went back to her paper.

Geoffrey kissed his wife and rolled over. His breath was slightly ragged and he was perfectly content to lie still for a few moments. Maureen was in a similar state. Their lovemaking was always active and passionate and extremely satisfying. She rolled over and snuggled against her handsome husband and ran a hand over his muscular chest.

She planted a kiss there and Geoff put an arm around her and held her close. "Well, you were particularly frisky tonight," he said.

Maureen giggled against his side. "You just bring that side of me out, husband. It's not as if you weren't frisky yourself."

Geoff laughed. "Touché."

Maureen turned serious. "We need to discuss Tessa."

"Oh, no. What's she done now?"

"It's not what she's done; it's what she isn't going to do. These parties are not doing anything but making her more dissatisfied. I don't think we should bother with them. Maddie is the one who wants them and she is so excited about her coming out. I think we should focus on that and give Tessa some breathing room. However, she should go to some parties she's invited to and also continue with our business dinners," Maureen said in a rush.

Geoffrey's response was to laugh and roll Maureen back over. "You are a conniver, Maureen O'Connor. Did she agree to that?"

Maureen arched a delicate brow at him. "A conniver I may be, but only for a good cause. Yes, she did. I thought they were decent terms. You've always said that in any good agreement, there's give and take."

"So I have." Geoffrey weighed the subject and saw that the deal was a good one. "Very well. I agree with you."

Maureen laughed and hugged Geoffrey. "You are the best husband and father!" She wiggled under Geoff.

He grinned and kissed her neck. "Really? So how about we seal the deal?"

"Oh, absolutely," Maureen said.

Their lovemaking was slower and tenderer this time and Maureen did indeed show Geoff what a wonderful husband he was to her.

Geoffrey called Tessa into his office in the morning. Tessa knew this was not her father's usual schedule and was nervous as she perched on one of the chairs in front of his large, mahogany desk. She watched her father close the door and settle in his office chair. He was a large man, standing around six-foot three and close to two hundred pounds, and the chair creaked a little under his weight. He didn't speak right away. He merely looked at her for a few moments.

Tessa knew he was sizing her up, much the way he did a business opponent. He was looking for any weakness. She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye.

"What's on your mind, Papa?" she asked.

Geoff smiled inwardly at her bravado. She was tough as nails and it made him feel good. Whoever she did eventually marry wouldn't be able to run roughshod over her. He wanted his daughters to be appreciated and loved, not ruled over. At least with Tessa, he knew that wouldn't happen.

"Your mother has informed me that she and you have come up with a proposal on which you agree. She brought this to me last evening and wanted to know if I approve," he stated.

Tessa fought the urge to fidget, knowing it would be a signal of her nervousness.

"Yes. That's true. Both of us thought it reasonable and beneficial to both parties," she said.

Geoff barely contained his smile at her use of business lingo. Apparently, she was paying attention somewhat during their dinners with his colleagues. "If I agree to the terms set forth, what is it that you propose to do with the extra time you will have on your hands?"

Tessa was stunned. She hadn't given any thought to that. Her father was waiting for an answer and her mind spun, trying to come up with something acceptable. She decided on honesty because Geoffrey would be able to see through any lies she would come up with.

"No, I haven't, simply because I didn't think you would agree to this."

He nodded. "I can understand that. If I agree to this, I expect you to come up with a worthy way to fill your time. I'll not have you simply lying about eating bonbons and such."

Tessa grinned. "When have you ever known me to lie around eating bonbons?"

"True. You've always been active. It was annoying as hell when you were a little girl," he confessed. He didn't often swear in front of his girls, but Tessa was not as sensitive as the other two.

"Is it my fault that I take after you, Papa?" she said.

He frowned. "You know, it's rather irritating that everyone keeps reminding me of that."

"You're full of it. You love it and you know it," Tessa teased.

"Back to our subject. I'm serious about you spending your time on something worthy. I don't care if it's a charity or some type of education. You have a fortnight to do so. Come back and tell me your answer. As of this moment, there will be no more parties, but if you do not live up to your end of the bargain, the agreement is null and void and the parties will resume," he told Tessa.

She could see her father was dead serious and even though she was thrilled with his answer, she kept her happiness in check for the moment. "We are agreed."

Only then did he smile again. "You are incorrigible. Now, come give me a kiss goodbye. I must get to the office."

Tessa jumped up and went around the desk and hugged her father. She planted a huge kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Papa! Have a wonderful day. I love you."

"I love you, too. Now, off with you," Geoffrey said gruffly.

Tessa wanted to run from the room, but walked out as a lady was supposed to do. She mounted the stairs and kept her composure until she reached her room, where she ran to her bed and buried her face in her pillow and shouted her joy. Then she got up and twirled around the room and performed some more moves that had anyone been watching, they would have thought her crazy.

A weight had been lifted and now she could start to live life somewhat as she wanted. She lay back on her bed and began thinking about what she would do with her extra time and there _would_ be extra time because she didn't have to spend hours getting ready and hours at the dreaded parties. During the season, it wasn't unheard of to have an event almost every night.

If she became involved in a charity, it would mean more functions and because that was what she was trying to avoid, she decided against it. What could she do educationally? Society had little use for truly educating women, although her father was very forward thinking in that respect and had made a large donation to Chatham College for Women in Shadyside, an affluent area of Pittsburgh.

She decided to contact them to make an appointment to visit. The idea of taking a few classes was appealing to her. It would certainly be something different and she would meet new people, too. Tessa ran downstairs to tell Maureen the news.

#  Chapter Two

One month later found Tessa miserable yet again. There were only two of her courses she liked, English and history. The others were lost on her. She discovered an aptitude for writing and seemed to constantly be scribbling down notes, which she rewrote and expanded later on. She was trying her best at the mathematics courses, but couldn't seem to grasp anything higher than beginning algebra. Claire put her to shame by being able to complete the whole book, and correctly at that.

The foreign language courses were all right, she supposed, but it was really the English class that was fascinating to her. She'd been studying other writers and trying to learn as much as she could about the great writers down through history. Her professor was very pleased with her progress and told her that she had wonderful insight and wrote beautiful, descriptive passages.

Tessa would have liked to have dropped out of the other courses and only kept writing. She knew that if she did that, however, the parties would begin again, so she kept going to classes while trying to come up with another solution.

One day after class, Tessa asked her English professor, Mr. Rothwell, about what made great writing. She loved reading the newspapers and thought she might like to write an article someday. He thought for a moment and then said, "You have to experience life, pay attention to the little things, and know your subject. Research is the key to writing an accurate, meaningful article, or writing anything worth reading, actually."

Tessa took that nugget of advice to heart. Over the next couple of months, she observed everything in her neighborhood and around various parts of the city where she traveled. She became aware that there was little in her life that was different to write about. She needed to travel to other lands and experience new things but she would never be permitted to do that.

Lying in bed late one night, Tessa thought about running away to follow her dream. Her vivid imagination began concocting various scenarios that would allow her to do that. She would need money. She had some in her account, but her father managed that account and would know if she took any out. But if she waited to take it out right before leaving, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. She fell asleep dreaming of escape.

She was again scouring the newspaper when an advertisement caught her eye.

The Brooks Agency is seeking eligible women of good reputation to correspond with gentlemen from the West who are seeking a wife. Please reply to this advertisement with a letter of description or come to our office located at the address below.

Tessa read the advertisement several times, growing excited with every read. Her mind began churning as she weighed the pros and cons of doing such a thing. She would certainly begin an adventure that would be worth writing about and perhaps find true love in the meantime. She would miss her family greatly and most likely anger them, but she was of age and could make her own decisions. Tessa was no fool and realized that she would have to be sure of the man before going to see him.

Knowing that she would be noticed writing down an address and most likely asked about it, Tessa memorized the address listed in the ad. After a rather boisterous breakfast with a lot of teasing between the four women, Tessa went up to her room and began making her plans to go to the Brooks Agency the next day.

She would need a taxi because she didn't want the family's driver to report where she was going and Tessa had no doubt Mr. Richards would tell her father if she were to go anywhere out of character for her. She decided she would go for a walk to the park and get a cab from there. Money was no problem, as she had a rather large sum saved and stashed in her room.

Each of the girls was given an allowance every week and it was rare that Tessa used all of hers because almost all of her needs were met by her parents. Maddie, on the other hand, was prone to spending her money on frivolous items and then wanting more money to buy more things that caught her eye. Tessa hoped Maddie married a rich man who could keep up with her spending habits.

The day seemed to pass slowly even though Tessa kept busy. She was impatient for the day to be over and for the next day to come. She lay in bed that night and couldn't sleep, try as she might. She wanted to look her best tomorrow so that she didn't look worn out. Finally, she slept.

"Well, Miss O'Connor, you seem to be exactly what we're looking for and what the men are looking for," J.D. Brooks said with a smile.

Tessa returned his smile and said, "Splendid! What do I need to do to get started?"

J.D. turned and took a large file from a cabinet behind him. "These are advertisements from prospective men. Look through them and see if any appeal to you. I would ask that you choose only one to correspond with at a time because you may become confused as to whom you are writing. Men are jealous sometimes and it may not sit well with them that you are talking to other men as well."

Tessa saw the wisdom in that. "I understand."

"Follow me, please," J.D. said and rose from his chair.

He led her to a large conference room with a long table and many chairs.

"You will have plenty of room and privacy in here to look through them at your leisure," he informed her.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Brooks said and left her to it. As he went back to his desk, he wondered why such a beautiful, refined lady was considering becoming a mail-order bride. From her elegant clothing and impeccable hair style, Tessa was obviously a woman high in society.

Tessa sat at the table and opened the file. There were many ads in there and she began to read them. She giggled over some of them because they were so amusing. Some were from men who were very strict about wanting a very domestic wife. Others were very sweet, almost too sweet, and she put those aside as well.

After an hour, she'd narrowed it down to five and then three. Finally, she ended up with the one that struck a chord within her. It read:

Lonely widower rancher with two children seeks lovely lady who is kind, intelligent, and strong. Must like children and should be able to do some cooking. I'm a hard worker and a good provider and also like to have fun.

The name listed was Dean Samuels from Dawson County, Montana. She felt sympathetic toward the gentleman because he had lost his wife and was trying to be a father and earn a living at the same time. After putting all of the rest of the advertisements back in the folder, Tessa went back out to the front office.

J.D. looked up from some paperwork and smiled. "How'd we make out?"

"I would like to write to this gentleman," she said and handed him the ad.

He read it and smiled. "Ah, yes. This one is rather popular," he lied. "Let me write down the information for you. The letters will be private. I would ask that you be able to make up your mind within three months as we don't want these men waiting for women who never come."

Tessa was surprised. "There are other women writing to this rancher?"

J.D. nodded. "Oh, yes. It's only fair." He had no qualms about his dishonesty. He had to make a living, after all.

"What if they've already made up their mind?" Tessa said.

"Don't fret, my dear. Once a decision has been made, you must come to inform me. There is a contract you must sign stating just that. We require a two hundred dollars service fee. If you should change your mind about contacting this gentleman further and do not want to try any others, I would refund half of your money."

Hope seeped its way back into her breast. "I see. You said two hundred dollars?"

"Yes. Will that be a problem?" J.D. asked.

Tessa calculated her funds. "No, it won't," she said and opened her reticule and counted out the money. "Now, about that contract," she said.
Chapter Three

Sweat trickled down Dean's back as he finished mending the last section of fence. Evening was closing in and he had wanted to get the work done before dark. It made him feel good to know that he had made it. He straightened up and stretched his cramped back. Replacing rotten fence posts and stringing new wire was not easy and it was one of the jobs he hated most.

But, like always, Dean just got on with the job and got it done despite how he felt. He was good at pushing his feelings down deep. It made things simpler and it was less time consuming. He didn't have enough time as it was because he had two kids to rise and a ranch to run. The work was never ending but he didn't complain. It could be worse.

He threw the hammer he'd been using into his tool box and began walking back through the field to the barn It was early May but the spring was coming on fast. Dean hoped that didn't mean there would be a drought that summer. Lord knew he needed a bumper crop this year because last year had barely kept them going through the winter.

As he walked, Dean looked at the lush, green grass under his boots and was thankful his cattle had good grazing to start the summer out with. They were a bit thin and he wanted to get them fattened up. No one wanted to buy a skinny steer. He needed his steers to go for a good price to make up for last year.

"Pa! Pa!" he heard his son, Jackson, holler.

Dean looked up and saw his seven year old boy running at him pell-mell. His wheat-blond hair flew everywhere as he ran. Jasper, one of their border collies, ran beside him, barking and jumping at Jack.

"Look! Uncle Seth just brought it!" Jack told him and thrust the letter at him.

Dean took the mail from Jack. The envelope was ragged and dirty on the edges, evidence of how many times it had changed hands to get to him. He looked at the return address.

"Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania? I don't know anyone in Pittsburgh, let alone Pennsylvania," he mused.

Jack bounced up and down next to him. "Is that what it says, Pa? Pittsburgh? Can I see?"

Dean smiled at Jack. "Yeah, sure. See right there." He pointed it out to Jack. "I'll get you to learn it and write it tonight, okay?"

Jack nodded. "I'm hungry. When ya gonna read it?"

Dean loved the way his son was able to focus on two things at once. His son had a busy mind and he was very intelligent for his age. He got that from his mother, rest her soul.

"You're hungry? I'm not surprised. You're always hungry. What are you making for dinner?" Dean asked.

That stopped Jack. "Me? I don't know how to make anything except sandwiches and we had that for lunch. Can't we have steak?"

Dean grunted. "Steak? What do you wanna have steak for? It's not like you like it or anything."

"Pa!" Jack said with a laugh. "You're teasing me. C'mon, let's go get dinner," he said and tugged at Dean's arm. "I'll carry the toolbox. You're probably tired from all that hard work you did."

"Okay." Dean agreed and gave the box to his son.

It was heavy and it fell to the ground at first but then Jack picked it up in both hands and began walking with it. He didn't complain about the weight, but Dean could tell it was tough going. About halfway to the barn, Dean said, "Hey, Jack. You go on ahead and get cleaned up and tell Sadie to get that steak out of the cold cellar and get it on the stove. I'll take the tool box. Where's Uncle Seth now?"

"Went in the barn!" Jack shouted. He dropped the tool box and ran off to the house.

Dean smiled as he watched Jack go. He picked up the tool box and proceeded to the barn. Horses whinnied as they heard him approach. He stopped by each stall, patting and stroking sleek coats. His brother, Seth, came out of the tack room.

"I see you got your letter," he commented.

Dean nodded. "Jack was all wound up about it. I guess it's because we don't get a whole lot of mail."

"Who's in Pittsburgh?" Seth asked. His blue eyes held curiosity.

"I have no clue," Dean answered.

"Are you going to read it now?"

Dean frowned at his older brother. "You're as bad as Jack. No. I'm going to read it after supper."

"How is it you have so much patience?" Seth said shaking his head.

Dean retorted, "And how is it you have so little?"

Seth smiled. "Because you're like Ma and I'm like Pa, remember?" It was an old joke between them.

"How could I not? You staying to dinner?"

"I better get _some_ reward for bringing that letter here," Seth said.

"Well, c'mon, then. I'm hungry."

Sadie was her mother, Sarah, out and out, Dean reflected again as he watched his daughter set the table. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a long braid with little wisps flying about. Her coffee-brown eyes looked to and fro as she went about her work. At eleven, Dean saw glimpses of the beautiful woman she would become. He thought about the boys who would come sniffing around in a few years and his stomach clenched at the thought.

Sadie looked up and saw his expression. "Did I do something wrong?"

"What? No, sweat pea. I was just thinkin' how pretty you are. Just like your Ma. I'm gonna have to beat off all the boys with a stick before too long," he replied.

"Pa, do I really look like her?" Sadie said.

Dean nodded. "You sure do. Why do you think I tell you that? Look in the mirror and you'll see your ma."

Sadie's smile of pride touched Dean's heart and his throat constricted with emotion.

"Is it ready yet?" Jack said.

Dean checked the meat and saw that it was done. "Yep. Let's eat."

Once dinner was cleaned up and the children sent to bed, Dean sat down in one of the comfortable chairs in the parlor. The ranch house was one of the larger ones in the area because of several additions that had been made over the years. As the eldest son, Seth had originally inherited the house when their parents had passed on, but he'd given it to Dean because he'd gotten married. Seth had always been a talented cattle driver and preferred to be on the trail. Dean would rather work the ranch than drive the herds so it worked out for both of them. Seth still retained his share in the ranch, but didn't like being tied down, which was why he'd never married.

Their parents, Ralph and Catherine Samuels, had built the house after they'd settled the land back in 1839, before that area of Montana was sectioned off into Dawson Country. Their house had been four rooms at that time, consisting of a kitchen, front room, and two bedrooms. It had been a lot of hard work, but their parents were determined to make a nice home and build a stable business to pass down to their children.

Seth had come along first, only six months after the house and barn had been finished. Back then, the barn had only been big enough for four heads of cattle; a bull and three cows. That was how their ranch had started. Another year passed and soon, Dean was born. When the boys were five and six, Ralph decided they needed more room because Catherine was again pregnant.

Another bedroom was added and the kitchen enlarged. Ralph's father died not long after and his mother, Edna, came to live with them. That's when they'd decided to add a second floor. There were three rooms upstairs; two large bedrooms and a wash room with a dry sink and chamber pot. They still had an outhouse, which they used most of the time except overnight and during the most bitter cold winter weather.

Dean and Sarah had lived with his parents until they'd passed away and then the young couple had taken over the house. Seth preferred to use one of the bunk houses when he was home, saying he liked the privacy and figured that Dean and Sarah didn't want him blundering in late at night if he'd been drinking and such.

Marcus, their younger brother, had bought a place a few miles away four years ago. He also preferred privacy, not because he didn't love his family but because he and Seth shared a common love of freedom. Not to mention that Marcus highly prized books and learning. His house held more books than furniture. When he lived in Dean and Sarah's house, he had run out of room for them all.

Dean looked around the parlor, which he and Seth had enlarged. Both he and Sarah's chairs were nicely upholstered and thickly padded. Sarah's was a rocker. He'd surprised her with them right before Sadie had come along, knowing she'd appreciate somewhere comfortable to rock their baby.

He remembered how thrilled she'd been and the joy that had lit up her face as she sat in the chair. Her belly had been wonderfully swollen with their child and Dean couldn't have been happier. The chairs both had matching ottomans. Dean had traded a high quality heifer for the pieces and had never regretted it. Turning his head, he gazed at the sofa and smiled. It was another purchase with which he'd surprised Sarah. When she'd gotten farther along with Jack, she'd been more tired than with Sadie and so he'd gotten it so that she could lie down when she needed to rest.

He was equally happy when both children were born and loved having one of each. Sarah was a wonderful mother and took excellent care of her family. A lump formed in his throat as he remembered when Sarah had told him she was pregnant for a third time. He'd grabbed her and twirled her slowly, just as thrilled as he had been when she'd told him about Sadie and Jack. He remembered how excited Sadie and Jack had been, too.

It wasn't to be, however. Sarah had gone into labor too early into the pregnancy. The neighbor woman at the time, Lydia, had done everything she could, but Sarah had hemorrhaged and both mother and baby perished.

Crushing grief had followed, and if it hadn't been for Lydia and her husband, Charlie, he might have gone crazy from it. Both had been quick to make him see that he had two young children who needed him and he owed it to them to be strong. It wasn't that he shouldn't mourn, but he had to keep it together for their sakes. Lydia told him that Sarah would have expected that from him, and she'd been right.

Seth and Marcus had been on a drive at the time and he'd had only Lydia and Charlie to fall back on. Lydia had taught him some cooking, and Charlie had helped with repair work and kept Dean moving each day. Dean had buried his pain in work and taken comfort in his children. The last three years had been difficult, but not without joy.

Turning his mind away from all that, he looked down at the letter in his lap and wondered who it was from. He slit the envelope with a pocketknife and pulled out the letter. He detected a faint scent of ladies' perfume.

Unfolding the letter, he read:

Dear Mr. Samuels,

I am responding to the advertisement placed with the Brooks Agency of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I found it to be touching and straightforward, which I appreciated very much. As I understand it, you are looking for a wife and mother-figure for your children.

"What the hell?" he said. Then it came back to him. "Marcus!" His younger brother, Marcus, had told him he should get married again. Dean had said that he didn't know any single women, at least any reputable ones. That's when Marcus had told him about mail-order brides and said that would be the perfect way to go.

Dean had been joking when he said it sounded like a great idea and why didn't Marcus place an ad. "That jackass!" Dean swore. "I can't believe he did this."

Curious despite his anger, Dean read on.

Allow me to tell you about myself. I am five feet, nine inches tall and have dark brown hair, the color of a dark bay horse. My eyes are deep blue and I have a slender figure. I like to think I am kind and have good manners, although sometimes my parents are a little put out with me because I do not always follow the conventions of society.

I have an excellent sense of humor and enjoy the outdoors. I sit a horse well and can write, read, and do some mathematics. Perhaps I shouldn't tell you this, as I am informed that many men are intimidated by educated women, but I somehow think you are perhaps more forward thinking than that. I would ask that you keep an open mind.

I have never been married and have no children, so I come unencumbered. I should like to have children so I hope you aren't opposed to having more. Although it's been a few years, I'm sure that you still deeply feel the loss of your wife and I am sorry you have had to endure such a thing. I would never presume to take her place, either in your heart, or in the hearts of your children. Rather, I would like to make my own place in all your lives and hope that we could be happy together.

I am looking forward to corresponding with you and becoming better acquainted.

Yours truly,

Theresa M. O'Connor

Dean read the letter several times and he was surprised to find that he was moved by this woman's words. She was honest and sensitive and had added a little humor. He had to admit, his interest was piqued. Although tempted to write back, he had no idea how to respond. He decided to sleep on it and see how he felt in the morning.

#  Chapter Three

"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean said as soon as he saw Marcus the next day.

Marcus had come to help Dean geld a couple of colts. Seth was out moving part of the herd to a new pasture. Lydia was on a walk with the kids. They'd gone to pick some early spring berries they'd located on one of the trails.

Marcus frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Dean snatched the letter from Theresa O'Connor from a drawer in the kitchen and thrust it at his best friend. "Read it."

Marcus unfolded the paper and began scanning the page. His mouth curved in a smile that grew the more he read. He finished and handed the letter back to Dean.

"I'll be damned. She sounds like a keeper," he said.

"Why did you put that ad in the paper?"

"Because you said I should, that you thought it was a good idea," Marcus answered.

Dean let out an exasperated sigh. "I was being sarcastic."

"I know," Marcus said with a nod, "but you need a wife. You need help with those kids. It's not going to be long before Sadie is a young woman. Are you gonna talk to her about womanly matters?"

"Lydia will do that," Dean said.

Marcus harrumphed. "Lydia and Charles have their own kids to raise. You could certainly use a woman around here and one in your bed. You might be nicer to be around."

Dean whipped his head around, ready to berate Marcus but his brother held up a hand.

"I know, Sarah was the love of your life, but the fact is she wouldn't want you stay single the rest of your life and she'd want someone helping to take care of those kids. If you don't know, there's a shortage of women in these parts so the pickings are slim," Marcus said. His gray eyes, so much like their mother's, were serious. "If you're not after love, at least be practical. Maybe you won't fall head over heels for someone, but you could be somewhat happy and have a good life."

Dean stayed silent for a few moments and saw the wisdom in Marcus' words. His grief over Sarah's death had colored his life for so long and he just couldn't shake the feelings that he would be replacing her if another woman came along. Marcus may have been wiser than he about the subject and Dean knew he had to take his children's welfare into consideration.

He gave Marcus an unsure glance and said, "What the heck would I say to her if I did write? I can't compete with that letter."

Marcus smiled. "It's not a competition, Dean. You just say what you feel."

"I don't know how I feel. No woman is gonna make the trip out here if I say that," Dean said.

"I'll tell you what. You give me a general idea what you wanna say and I'll write the letter."

Dean mulled over Marcus' offer. Marcus had the most education out of the three brothers and certainly wrote better than he did. "Okay. Um, just tell her what we're like and that I'm a hard worker and she sounds real nice. Oh, and tell her about the ranch."

"Done," Marcus said. "Now let's get to those colts."

All through the day, Dean kept thinking about that letter and wondering about the woman who'd written it. Why was she contemplating moving to an unknown land that was barely settled? She seemed smart and nice. Why couldn't she find a man in Pittsburgh? He assumed there was a good reason and decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

By the time Dean's day was through, he was exhausted. That was nothing new, though. He welcomed the work and the fatigue because they kept thoughts away that he didn't want to deal with. That night, however, he had something new to think about and it kept him awake for a while.

He lay in the bed in which he and Sarah had made love in so many times and wondered how he could ever share it with someone else. Dean reached over and ran his hand over the side of the bed where Sarah had slept. What would it feel like to have a womanly figure lying next to him again?

"Sarah, I don't know about all this. Marcus tells me I need to find someone to marry, to be a mother to our children, but I don't know if that's the right thing to do. I still miss you so much and I don't think I can love someone like that again." Dean fought the tears that threatened. "You always said you'd be with me no matter what. I hope you're with me now. There's times when I think I hear you laugh or feel you next to me. If you are around, can you give me some sort of a sign?"

He waited but nothing happened. Dean laughed at himself, thinking he was incredibly foolish to expect some sort of otherworldly sign. He rolled over away from Sarah's side of the bed and eventually nodded off.

#  Chapter Four

After visiting the Brooks Agency, Tessa was on pins and needles as she waited for a response to the letter she'd written. Would the man she'd sent the letter to be interested? Should she have written something more or had she written too much? Doubts bombarded her but she did her best to hide her feelings.

She couldn't afford for any of her family to suspect anything, so she went to her classes and worked hard at her writing and other studies. She also took home some books about Montana, where Mr. Samuels lived. It was wise to research the place where she might end up living.

Tessa hid the books away during the day and only brought them out late at night. She studied them closely and took notes. The more she read, the more excited she became. It was as far removed from the current life she led as could be. It would certainly be an adventure. She longed to hear a wolf howl and feel the cold winter winds and watch the cattle being driven.

The books also helped her understand the type of clothing she would need. She was sensible enough to know that high heels and ball gowns would have no place in somewhere like Montana. Now the problem would be to figure out how to start buying these things and where to store them.

Making the purchases wouldn't be so hard, but there was no way to bring them home without being noticed. All three sisters liked to show each other new clothing and such that they bought. For Tessa to abruptly stop doing that would cause everyone to become curious about why she would suddenly be secretive about her shopping. That would put her plan in jeopardy.

She thought about places to stash her things until she needed them, but came up with only one place to do so. Her cousin, Edwina, was always pushing the envelope when it came to societal rules and Tess knew she would help her.

Edwina Bradbury was known for being a bit of a wild woman, but because she was the sole heir of her family's vast fortune, everyone seemed to look the other way. With no parents left and no husband to whom to answer, Edwina enjoyed a freedom that few women of her social standing did. She had always been a sounding board for Tessa's frustrations. Tessa loved her family but she felt like she was drowning.

Edwina understood how smothered Tessa felt in a world that was filled with the same thing day after day. She'd felt that way her whole life and so she was only too happy to help Tessa prepare for her journey, should it ever happen. Tessa left her fiery cousin a happy woman. Now if only a positive response came.

Two weeks later, Edwina contacted Tessa by note that a letter had come. Tessa left the house as quickly as possible, saying that she needed to go to the library. A short time later, she sat in Edwina's ornate parlor. Tessa took the letter from Edwina. She was jittery as she opened it so she took a breath before beginning to read it.

Dear Theresa,

I was really surprised to get your letter. I didn't think anyone would write to me because I have two children. It's only a very special woman who would be willing to take on that. I'll tell you about them. Sadie is just like her ma. She has golden brown hair and bright brown eyes. She turned eleven last fall. Jack is all boy and full of energy.

They're both good children and I want the best for them. Our house is pretty big.

There's a kitchen, parlor, four bedrooms, and a washroom upstairs. I keep it in shape along with the rest of the place. I'm not the richest man, but I keep our heads above water. My kids and my cattle are my life, but I'd sure like to share it with someone again.

Your letter was something else. I can tell that you're a real lady and smart, too.

I'm wondering where you went to school and why a fine lady like you would want to come here. It's pretty here, don't get me wrong, but it's a lot different than what you're used to. The sky is so blue and on clear days, you can see across the valley. The sound of the cattle lowing and the horses nickering to each other is comforting.

You said you like to ride and we have plenty of good horses so that wouldn't be a problem. Your schooling would be welcome because we don't have a school close by here and the kids need to learn. Both are real bright and like learning new things.

I guess because you told me what you look like, and you sound very pretty, I should tell you about myself. I've been told I'm handsome. I have blond hair and blue eyes. Last I knew I stood six feet, two inches tall. I don't know what I weigh, but I'm not fat at all. I work off most of what I eat. I have strong arms and a strong back and I provide well for my family.

That's about it for now, but I hope I hear from you again soon. Let me know if you have any questions.

Sincerely,

Dean Samuels

Tessa finished reading the letter and leaned back in her seat. The letter hung from her fingers and Edwina snatched it away and read it.

"Oh, my," she said. "Tessa, you have a live one here. He sounds dreamy. A real man, not like some of the fops around here. Just think of how manly he must be from all that work. And blond hair and blue eyes? Cousin, if you don't take him, I just might."

Tessa looked into her cousin's lively green eyes and laughed. "Hands off. Go get your own Montana man." She took the letter back and stood. "He does sound wonderful, doesn't he? And just imagine the trip. Why, I would have enough to write about for a lifetime with that alone!"

"See what the next few letters bring, but I wouldn't wait too long to meet if all is satisfactory. You said other women write these men? Some other woman might beat you to it," Edwina said. "Like me!"

"Stop your teasing, Eddie. You're awful and wonderful. So you'll help me?" Tessa asked.

"Oh, yes. And more than that, I'll lend you the money for the trip. You're going to need more than your allowance and there's no way to access your dowry, of course. There's no telling what you'll come up against and it's best to be prepared," Edwina said.

Tessa was shocked. "You can't do that! I won't take your money."

"You're not taking, you're borrowing, dear. Besides, I have money to burn and watching you live out your dream is a real pleasure for me. I'll live vicariously through you. Accept the money or I won't help you," Edwina said. Her expression was serious.

"Blackmailer," Tessa accused. "Very well. I accept."

Edwina clapped her hands. "Wonderful! Now go home and write to your cowboy immediately so it reaches him as soon as possible."

The letters began coming on a regular basis over the next two and a half months and Tessa was hooked. Dean's description of Montana and their lives made Tessa want to go there all the more.

Marcus was having a blast playing matchmaker and enjoyed writing the letters. He felt that Dean would be a lucky man to get a woman like Tessa and was a little jealous. Dean didn't say so, but he liked Tessa's letters, especially the way she wrote about her sisters. They sounded like a lively bunch and Tessa's vivid writing made him feel like he could almost see them.

He could tell she was a smart woman and sometimes, he had to get a dictionary to tell him what some of the words meant. When she asked questions about Sarah, Dean froze up and told Marcus to not go into detail about her or his grief. He felt that was his business alone.

Other than that, he mostly left writing the letters up to Marcus and rarely read them. It seemed like Marcus was doing a good job and that was good enough for Dean.

One day, during the middle of July, Marcus showed up, waving a letter. Dean smiled because he knew it was another one from Theresa. He'd actually come to look forward to them.

"You're going to love this one," Marcus informed him.

Dean took it and opened it.

Dear Dean,

I will come right to the point. I have enjoyed our correspondence immensely and it seems you have as well. I think that it's time we meet and would like to make the trip forthwith. Please reply to let me know if this is acceptable to you and if so, I will make the final plans.

In your earlier missives, you have told me that the closest railway would stop in North Dakota and that I would come by coach from there. You warned that it would be a long journey, but I am willing to take that risk. I have the means to hire a first rate guide and have no fear of the journey, which I think will be well worth any effort.

Yours,

Theresa

By the time Dean finished reading the letter, panic had begun to set in. When it had started, he'd never expected it to go this far. Now, half a continent away, there was a woman who was ready to leave her life and come west to meet him.

"Breathe, Dean. It'll be okay. Ain't that something?" Marcus said. His delight brought Dean to anger.

"How do I explain this to the kids? Where is she going to stay? What am I supposed to do with her?" he said.

Marcus laughed at the fear and bewilderment on Dean's face. "Well, I know it's been a while, but it's kind of like when you fall off a horse. You just get back on and it'll all come back to you."

Dean grabbed Marcus by his shirt collar. "It's not funny, you idiot! I should have never done any of this. I shouldn't have let you talk me into it!"

Marcus laughed all the more and Dean could have choked him.

"Dean! Knock it off! The fact is, you wanted to do it or you never would have said so," he said and yanked his shirt out of Dean's fist.

"I _didn't_ say so! I was joking! I didn't know you'd take me seriously and put that ad in the paper," Dean said.

Marcus nodded. "Yeah, but you told me to go ahead and send a letter back. You coulda just never answered, but you told me to write back."

Dean stood very still as he recalled their conversation. "Shoot! You're right." Dean put a hand to his forehead. "What do I do now?"

Marcus crossed his arms over his chest and gave Dean a speculative look. "The question is; what do you _want_ to do? I think you want to meet her but you're scared to death. You never told me to stop writing her or tell her it was off."

Dean was cursing his stupidity. He felt bad about not stopping the letters and now didn't know what he wanted to do. "You're right. It's not your fault. Let me think about it today and I'll let you know tomorrow."

"Okay. That's fine. Dean, the worst that can happen is that things don't work out and she goes home," Marcus said. "At least you would have given it a try."

"I'll think on it," Dean said.

That night, Dean wrestled with the decision that lay ahead. Should he take a risk and have this woman come? What would he tell his children? He needed to talk to someone other than Marcus about this. He needed a woman's point of view.

The next morning, Dean rode his stallion, Twister, over to the Benson's place. At the sound of a horse's hooves, Lydia Benson looked out from behind a sheet she was hanging on a wash line.

"There's the woman I'm after," he said with a smile as he climbed down off Twister.

Lydia chuckled. "Don't let my husband hear that. He's the jealous type."

Her dark blonde hair was blowing in the breeze and her brown eyes smiling up at him. She looked at Dean closely. She'd known him and his brothers for ten years now and could tell when something was on the man's mind. His furrowed brow and the look in his eyes gave him away. Dean had become a little brother to her and she wondered what was bothering him.

She'd loved Sarah and had grieved right along with Dean when she'd died. Lydia still felt guilty about not being able to save Sarah and their baby. It had been another boy.

"Can we talk?" Dean asked.

"Sure, hon. C'mon into the kitchen. I could use some coffee, how about you?" she said.

"I can always use a cup of your coffee, Lydia," Dean answered and followed her into their house.

The kitchen was large, as was the table. It had to be with four children and a couple of ranch hands to feed. Meals were lively at the Benson's and Dean and his kids had eaten many a meal with them. It had a homey feel to it and the surfaces of the wooden table and benches were worn to a smooth patina from so much use. Charlie had installed plenty of cupboards and bought Lydia a nice buffet to house all of their dishes and various cooking equipment.

"Sit," Lydia said and set about getting their coffee. When it was ready, she poured it and sat down at the table with Dean. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure where to start. Seems I've got myself into a pickle," Dean said. "Back in May, Marcus decided to put an advertisement in a paper back East for a mail-order bride. He thinks I need a wife and he said this was the perfect way to go." The words started coming fast once he'd started. "I was joking when I said go ahead and put the ad in. Next thing I know, a letter comes and it's from a woman. I read it and damned if I wasn't interested. She's educated and seems very nice and doesn't mind that I have kids. She was really sorry to hear about Sarah and doesn't want to try to take her place. We been writin' back and forth and now she wants to come and meet us. I don't know if I should or not. What do you think?"

Lydia was laughing softly. "Oh, that Marcus. I think he did a good thing. It sounds to me like you like her, or at least her letters. You know, a lot of men are beginning to work at getting' wives that way. Nothing wrong with it. Do you think your heart is healed enough to entertain the idea of meeting another woman with the idea of proposing marriage?"

Dean felt his stomach drop at the idea. "I don't know. I don't know if I could ever go through that again. What if we get married and things are good and then she dies?"

Lydia laid a hand on his. "Dean, I know you're scared, but what if she comes here and you get married and _you_ die? You know as well as I that your work can be dangerous. You're not the only one taking a risk."

Dean looked at Lydia in surprise. He had been so busy thinking of _his_ situation that he hadn't considered what Theresa would face. She obviously had a lot of courage, maybe more than he did. She would be traveling a very long distance just to meet his family and him, without any guarantees. Shouldn't he be just as willing to take that step and at least meet her?

Dean gulped down his coffee, then rose and kissed Lydia on the forehead. "You are the wisest person I know. Thanks." He kissed her cheek and quickly left.

Lydia chuckled as she finished her coffee and went back to hanging her laundry.

Dean rode on to Marcus' place. It was a slightly run down house with only four small rooms. Marcus kept it in fair repair, but wasn't overly concerned with making it more attractive because he had no intentions of getting married. His one small barn housed two horses and a mule. An outside shed gave his five steer shelter during the winter months. A few chickens and a rooster roamed free on his land. Marcus didn't have any need to keep a lot of animals, only what he needed to feed himself.

A small vegetable garden occupied an area off to the right of the house, where it had a nice combination of sun and shade from a large oak tree that stood sentinel along the edge of the patch. Roscoe, Marcus' big mongrel, started barking and running toward Dean and Twister. His tail wagged furiously when he saw that one of his favorite people was there.

Marcus sat in a rocking chair on the porch that ran the length of the house. He was whittling on a piece of wood. It seemed like Marcus was always whittling something. He made beautiful pieces and many people in the area hired him to make specific things, which they liked to give as gifts and such.

He didn't get up, just kept whittling as he called out, "C'mon and have a seat. What brings you?"

Dean leapt up onto Marcus' porch and dropped down into the chair next to him. He rocked for a few moments in silence, scratching Roscoe's ears and petting his head. Marcus started whistling, another one of his habits.

"Send the letter. Tell her to come ahead," Dean said. He got up and jumped down the stairs. Dean gathered Twister's reins and climbed aboard the stallion. He gave Twister a light kick and the stallion sprang forward and set out at a canter. Dean rode home fast, enjoying the speed of the big stallion under him. He had to leave right after his statement to Marcus or else he would have changed his mind. Dean knew Marcus well enough to know that he wouldn't waste any time getting that letter written and sent off.

#  Chapter Five

Maddie's coming out party was everything she'd ever wanted and more. It was a magical night surrounded by her family, wonderful friends, and very attentive young men. Her dance card was full and she was thrilled.

Tessa watched her little sister twirl around the dance floor, first in one man's arms and then in another's. The light in Maddie's eyes made Tessa so happy for her sibling. She'd decided she couldn't leave until after Maddie's party because it would be cruel to cause so much sadness. There was no way she would do anything to ruin Maddie's night.

She'd decided to leave a little later that night, when the party was in full swing. Her parents would be distracted by entertaining the guests. Tessa would plead a headache and make her escape to Edwina's, where she'd hail a taxi and gather her belongings. Her bags were packed and waiting in Eddie's large hall closet. Eddie's driver was going to take her to the train station, where she would catch the last train, which left at eleven-forty-five.

Claire had been allowed to attend the party for a short while and was in awe of the happenings. She watched the elegant women in their beautiful gowns as they danced with handsome men. Her excitement was palpable as she sat next to Tessa. She watched her little sister's sweet face and tried to memorize it. She didn't know how long it would be until she saw it again.

Tessa reached out and took Claire's hand. Claire looked at her in surprise.

"What is it?" she asked.

"All of this is wonderful in its way. I was excited when I was first introduced to society and I know you will be too, but don't make it your life. You have a wonderful mind and you should use it to do great things, but have some fun, too. There has to be a balance," Tessa said.

Claire smiled at Tessa. "Thank you, but why are you so sentimental tonight?"

"I was just remembering my own coming out and how much I enjoyed it but then later wished that I could do something else besides attend balls and parties. So have fun with all this, but don't let it rule you. That's all," Tessa said with a smile. Inside, she was warning herself to not let her emotions show so much. Someone might suspect something was amiss. "I mean, aren't you bored already?"

Claire laughed. "That's just like you. The party has barely begun and you're ready to leave."

Tessa propped her head on her palm and affected a bored expression. "Am I that transparent?"

Claire nodded and turned back to watch the dancers.

Tessa watched, too, for a few moments before noticing that Maddie was heading in the direction of the ladies' toilet. She gave Claire a kiss and went after her other sibling. Tessa caught Maddie in the hallway off the ballroom.

"So, little sister, are you enjoying your special night?" she asked.

Maddie grabbed Tessa's arm and squeezed a little. "It's the most amazing thing! This will sound terrible, but so many of the men want to dance with me. I don't understand why you don't love this life."

Tessa was swept up for a few moments by Maddie's enthusiasm. "I'm thrilled you are having such a wonderful time. You look very elegant and lovely on the dance floor. You dance much better than I do."

"Oh, stop. You dance very well," Maddie protested.

"Well enough, I suppose, but not with your grace. I have a few words of caution. Just beware with whom you dance. They're not all being altruistic. Some of them have hidden agendas. I'm sure it won't be long until you have marriage proposals thrown your way, but listen to your heart and don't let money influence your choice," Tessa said.

Maddie nudged her sister. "Come now! Listen to you, the voice of doom. I understand that you don't enjoy this, but I do and I don't intend to let it stop too soon. Who wants to get married when I can have this kind of fun? Trust me; I'm not in a hurry to wed. But when I do, it will be with someone fun and exciting, who doesn't give a flip what people think."

"Good girl," Tessa said. She gave Maddie a quick hug and a kiss and sent her on her way.

It was getting late and Tessa knew she needed to go. Before she lost her nerve, she found her parents and drew them away slightly.

"I'm going to excuse myself. I think all of the perfume has given me a headache. I should like to go to retire early," she said.

Maureen looked at her eldest with concern. "Well, you do look a little peaked. Perhaps it's best. Get a good night's rest and I'll check on you in the morning."

Tessa hugged her mother, hanging on a bit longer than normal. "I love you, Mama. You are the most wonderful mother anyone could ask for."

Maureen hugged her back. "Thank you, darling."

Then Tessa turned to her father and steeled herself. This would be the toughest goodbye to get through without giving herself away. "Goodnight, Papa."

Geoffrey kissed her cheek and gathered her close. "Goodnight, daughter. Sleep well and feel better."

Tessa struggled to hold tears back as she hugged her father. She drew away and pretended to sneeze. She pressed a handkerchief to her nose and made it seem as if the perfume was having a severe effect on her sinuses.

"Pardon me. I fear that some people have been extremely heavy with the perfume," she said, as a reason for her eyes being so bright with tears.

Geoffrey placed another kiss on her forehead. "Go then before it gets worse. Good night."

"Goodnight. I love you both so much. Have a wonderful rest of the night and tell Maddie how sorry I was that I had to leave the party early," she said.

"Yes, we will," said Maureen.

She and Geoff watched their daughter leave. "She should have been an actress," Geoff commented. "I almost bought that she was feeling poorly."

"She's faking? I didn't know. What does that say about me as a mother?" Maureen said.

Geoff squeezed her hand. "You're a wonderful mother and you know it. She really does hate parties and just wanted to leave this one, too. That's all it is, Maureen."

Maureen sighed. "I suppose you're right."

"However, we have another daughter who is enjoying every second of it," he said, with a gesture at Maddie, who was out on the dance floor again.

They watched their graceful daughter float around the room in the arms of a very good-looking boy.

Tessa watched her family from the doorway leading to the main foyer as they enjoyed the special night. The picture they made together would be forever etched in her mind. With tears in her eyes, she forced herself to turn away and mount the staircase to prepare for her journey.

"Mama! Mama!"

Maureen heard Claire calling her and it sounded as if something was drastically wrong. Claire burst into the dining room the morning after Maddie's coming out party. She was holding an envelope and papers in her hand.

"What is it, Claire?" Maureen asked.

"It's Tessa! She's gone," Claire said and thrust the papers at her mother.

"What?" Maureen took the papers and began reading.

To My Dearest Family,

I know that when you find that I have gone, you will be very distressed and try to find me. I beg you not to do so. I will be in touch when I can. For years I've been trying to tell you that this is not the life I want for myself, but my words have fallen on deaf ears. You seemed to think that it was just a phase and that I would grow out of it.

Most of my life has been spent primping and preening and learning how to behave like a lady and be charming to others. I never felt fully comfortable in this type of life. Madelyn is much more proficient at it than I and she certainly enjoys it. I find nothing wrong with that.

I felt compelled to leave because I know I will never be allowed to live life on my own terms. I would have liked to have had more opportunities to participate in serious conversations concerning societal issues and many other matters, but any time I attempted to do so, I was made to feel that I wasn't intelligent enough simply because I'm a woman.

There were scores of men who were pushed my way in the hopes of me finding a suitor among them. No matter how many men of our society I would meet, I know I would never find a match with any of them. I would like a man of substance, someone who knows about hard work and taking chances. I want someone like you, Papa. I need a man who is strong, yet loving and has a sense of what's really important in life.

So I am setting out on my own life's journey and doing so in secret because I feel it is the only way I could make it happen. By the time you read this, I will be long gone and you will not find me. I am not doing this to hurt you, I am doing this because I am of age to make my own decisions and live life on my own terms.

I want to be appreciated for my true self and not be forced into a box or told what I should want. I love you all, but I am suffocating and need room to breathe and I think this is the best course of action for us all. I know that it will take you some time to see it, but I hope that one day you will.

Know that I love you all more than I could ever tell you.

Yours always,

Tessa

Maureen reread the letter, disbelief and terror filling her breast. She was first and foremost a wife and mother and the fact that one of her children had set out alone to only God knew where, filled her with dread. She didn't want to alarm Claire unduly, however, so she tried to keep her demeanor and voice as calm as possible.

"Oh, dear. That Tessa. She has always been somewhat dramatic. No doubt we'll find her at one of her friends' residences," Maureen said. She smiled at her youngest. "All will be well, Claire. I'll go talk to your father about it. You eat your breakfast."

Maureen kissed Claire on the forehead and left the room. Claire was old enough and smart enough to know when her mother was truly concerned and she knew that Maureen was very worried. She had no desire to eat, instead going out to their garden to get some fresh air. She was deeply concerned about her sister and prayed that wherever she was, she was safe.

Geoffrey finished reading the Tessa's letter and sat back in his office chair. Worry, anger, and shock all warred within him. How could she do this to her family, especially her parents? She had always been spirited and headstrong, but he had never seen this coming. As her father, he felt that he should have.

He looked at Maureen and rose to embrace her. "Don't worry, dear. I'll find her. She couldn't have gotten far and someone has to know where she has gone."

Maureen held Geoff close, taking comfort in his assurances. "Yes. You're right. Please bring her back to us."

"I will," Geoff promised her. "No matter what it takes."

#  Chapter Six

The trip westward was one Tessa would never forget, not only because it was full of memorable sights and events, but also because she was always writing. She strove to get everything she could down on paper just as she saw it at that particular moment. Her fingers became sore, but she kept on writing anyway. One of her suitcases had held nothing but paper and pencils. She hadn't wanted to run out of writing materials before reaching her destination.

To ensure that didn't happen, Tessa also bought more writing supplies whenever she could. She didn't know whether supplies would be available in Dawson County and she needed to keep as much in stock as possible. After Dean had made her aware of how remote his ranch and community were, Tessa realized that there were things that would not be readily available as they had been to her.

Another reason she wrote so much was to quiet her nerves. She was leaving her home for the first time in her life to head into the unknown. Although exciting, it was also scary. Would she be welcomed? Was Dean as he seemed in his letters? What would his children think of her? It was highly possible they would be resentful or jealous of her and that would put a strain on any possible relationship she and Dean might have.

She wanted him to like her and hoped she would like him, too. Despite not finding anyone to marry in Pittsburgh, she had always hoped to find a loving husband and raise a happy family. Tessa felt that in going to Montana, she would have the opportunity to meet someone and to have such a life.

"So, is she pretty?" Sadie asked. Her brown eyes shone with excitement at the possibility of meeting a genteel lady from a big city. She seemed more interested in that than the fact that she might marry her father.

Dean smiled. "I'm sure she is. She sounds like it. She's tall and has blue eyes and dark hair and she's, uh, slender."

"What's 'slender', Pa?" Jack wanted to know.

"It means not fat but not skinny. Just right," Sadie said.

Jack nodded. "That's good, I guess."

"I reckon it is. So what do you think about her maybe marrying me someday?" Dean asked. He almost stumbled on the word "marrying". He still wasn't comfortable with that idea, but he was willing to give it a chance.

Sadie pondered that for a few moments. "I guess if she likes me and Jack, it's all right."

Jack, ever practical, said, "If she can cook and clean, fine with me. Oh, and sing. Can she sing, Pa?"

Dean laughed. "I don't know if she can sing, son. I never asked her and she never said."

Jack shrugged. "It's okay. We can see when she gets here."

"Okay. We'll do that."

"When is she getting here?" Sadie asked.

Dean mentally calculated the date of the letter he'd received, telling him when she'd left North Dakota. "She should be here in three days."

Sadie clapped. "I can't wait. I'm so excited!"

"I can tell," Dean said.

"Me, too," Jack said. "Can I have a snack?"

Dean ruffled Jack's hair. "Yeah, you can have a snack. Miss Lydia sent over some cookies."

Jack ran off to the kitchen for the cookies. He was far more worried about them than he was the prospect of a strange woman entering their lives. Dean wished he had his son's outlook about it.

The stage coach pulled up in front of the general store in Wolfe's Point, which also served as a stage depot. As she alighted from the coach, Tessa stretched, glad to be on solid ground at least for a little while. The driver unloaded her belongings and sat them on the porch of the store. Tessa thanked him and gave him a tip, something she was used to doing in Pittsburgh. The rough-looking driver looked at the money she was handing him and then back at her as if to say, "Are you sure?"

Tessa smiled and said, "I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of your help in bringing me here."

He smiled and took the money. "Thanks, miss. You ever need to go anywhere again, let me know."

"Of course," Tessa said.

He mounted the coach, tipped his hat to her, and then drove away. Tessa gathered her belongings into a more orderly lineup and then entered the store. The elderly gent behind the counter came out from behind it and looked at her. "Well, you are a sight for sore eyes," he said. "We don't get many young ladies around here that look like you."

Tessa smiled. "Thank you. You're much too kind."

"Nope. Just tellin' the truth. So you're that blue blood gal from the East, huh?" he said.

"I suppose I am. I see you've heard about me," she said. She had expected that the people of the area would be curious about her.

"Hell, everyone around here's heard about ya. It's big doings, ya know. Besides which, Dean asked me to keep an eye on you when you got here. Said he'd be here today, so I expect him any time now. He keeps his word."

Tessa was comforted by that fact. "I'm Theresa O'Connor," she said, holding out a hand.

The store owner took it and shook it the same way a man's hand would be shook. "Lance Long. Pleased to meet you."

Tessa shook his hand firmly, knowing, from watching her father do the same thing over the years, it was expected.

"Good shake. Can always tell a good person from the way they shake hands," Lance said. "Good lookin' and ya got good manners. If Dean doesn't marry you, I will."

Tessa laughed. "You're such a flirt!" she accused. She was no stranger to flirting and could hold her own when it came to the oral dance between men and women.

"Flirt? Hell, I mean it!" Lance said. "Oh, pardon my language, miss."

"Please think nothing of it. I've heard much worse," Tessa said.

The sound of horses' hooves and wagon wheels interrupted further conversation.

The buckboard wagon rattled around the last turn on the way to Long's Mercantile. He and Marcus were running late because the front axle on his buggy had broken. He didn't always use the buggy and didn't realize that part of the axle had weakened. They'd hit a bad rut and it had snapped it the rest of the way.

Marcus and Dean had had to get the broken vehicle off the road and take the horses back to the ranch to get them hitched to the wagon. Dean had wanted to use the buggy because it would be more comfortable for Theresa. He and the kids were used to riding the buckboard but to someone who was used to riding along smooth streets, the dirt roads could be awfully hard on the rear end.

He was hoping that maybe the stage coach had been late and that they'd still get there ahead of Theresa. Dean's hope for that died as they neared the store and saw a womanly figure out on the porch of the store.

"Wow, Dean, she's a looker," Marcus said as the wagon drew closer.

Dean didn't need Marcus to tell him that. He drove the wagon automatically, but his senses were honed in on the beautiful woman watching them. _Her dark hair was stylishly done, like something out of a magazine,_ Dean thought. She looked fresh, despite the lengthy journey. She was smiling and as they pulled up, Dean could see her teeth were white and nicely shaped.

Dean's eyes roamed over her full bosom, slender waist, and slightly flaring hips. Her blue eyes smiled right along with her mouth and Dean saw her keen intelligence reflected in them. Her traveling suit was a little wrinkled and a trifle dusty, but on the whole, she looked as if she'd walked out of a dream.

Dean pulled the team to a stop and stepped down from the wagon. "You must be Theresa."

She smiled broadly and came down from the wooden porch. "And you must be Dean," she answered.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean said. "How was your trip?"

"Exhilarating!" she announced. "There's so much to see and learn about."

Dean had to smile at her enthusiasm. "I'm glad to hear it. You may change your mind once you're here for a while."

Tessa tilted her head a little and asked, "Are you trying to get rid of me already?"

"What? No, of course not," Dean said. Then he caught the devilish twinkle in her eyes. "You're pulling my leg," he said and grinned.

"I must be talented indeed to be able to do that from here," Tessa said. "I'm sorry. I am more tired than I thought, I think."

Dean laughed. "Don't be sorry. It's good to see you have a sense of humor and that you're not stuck up or anything."

"Far from it or I wouldn't be here, would I?" Tessa said.

Dean frowned. "What's wrong with it here?"

Tessa rushed to apologize. "Nothing, of course! It's beautiful here."

It was Dean's turn to laugh now. "I'm just joshing you."

Tessa pretended to be offended. "You, Mr. Samuels, are a bad man, I think."

"You have no idea," Marcus said, speaking for the first time. "I'm Marcus, Dean's younger brother."

"Well, Marcus, I'm pleased to meet you. And please, call me Tessa. It's my nickname and frankly, I prefer it," she replied.

"Very well, then, Tessa it is," Marcus said, with a deep bow over her hand.

Tessa played along and gave him a deep curtsy, and Dean watched her graceful movements closely as she dipped and rose again. "What a gentleman you are," she commented.

Dean grunted. "More like full of bull crap."

Marcus scowled at Dean and Tessa laughed. She could see that this was going to be a lot of fun. She sobered and looked at Dean, admiring his fine physique.

"So, who are these beautiful animals?" she asked, referring to the pair of chestnut draft horses hitched to the wagon.

"This one is Buster and the other one is Nugget," Dean answered.

Tessa moved to Buster's side before Dean could warn her. Buster tended to be a little cantankerous around strangers, but he saw that he didn't have to worry. Tessa whispered to Buster and he watched the big gelding's ears flick back and forth. She didn't touch him, but held a flat palm out and let him sniff it. Slowly then, she raised her hand and lightly stroked his neck.

The whole time, she kept whispering to him. Once he'd gotten her scent, Tessa stroked the pretty white blaze enjoying the soft hair and skin of Buster's face. The horse seemed hypnotized by the treatment and lowered his head to her. Tessa slipped up close to him and embraced his neck briefly.

She then repeated the process with Nugget, who was much friendlier and more mischievous. Tessa laughed softly when he wanted to nibble at a bow on her jacket. She quietly disciplined him and Nugget behaved.

"They're splendid," she said as she turned back to the men.

Dean had been watching raptly and found he was jealous of the horses. Her pretty hands stroking their flesh made his male flesh remember what it was like to feel a woman's touch. He shifted and cleared his throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to delay our departure. I adore horses, but I'm dying to see your ranch and meet everyone," she said.

"Not at all," Dean said. "We'll get your things loaded and get underway. I'm sure you'd like to get settled in and rest a little."

"Yes, that would be lovely," Tessa agreed.

Dean and Marcus moved her belongings to the wagon and they headed out.

#  Chapter Seven

Tessa was thankful to Dean for thinking to place a thick folded blanket on the wooden seat of the buckboard wagon. The going was rougher than she was used to and her bottom kept smacking against the seat and she was getting sore. She could imagine how much worse it would have been if there had been no blanket.

As they rode, she kept sneaking looks at Dean and found him quite attractive. His blond hair was disheveled from the wind and his jaw was beginning to show stubble. He was tanned and muscular and filled out his clothes in a way that the men she knew didn't. Tessa smiled to herself, thinking that Edwina would certainly be jealous when she wrote her and told her that Dean was incredibly handsome and virile.

She'd been charmed by Marcus and had pegged him a bit of a troublemaker, but the kind that you couldn't help but like. She wondered which parent each of them looked like. Outside of the shape of their jaws, there wasn't much resemblance. Marcus's jet black hair and gray eyes were far removed from Dean's golden locks and vivid blue eyes.

Dean looked down at Tessa and Tessa's stomach did a little flip. His gaze did things to her that she hadn't expected so soon. She thought she saw the same thing flicker in his eyes, but couldn't be sure.

"See that big maple tree over there?" he said.

Tessa looked where he indicated. "Yes."

"That's the start of our land," Dean told her with pride. "Those steer you see are some of our finest cattle."

Tessa took a small notebook from her reticule and began looking around with interest and writing down her observations. Dean watched with curiosity, remembering Tessa had told him that she was working on improving her creative writing skills. "What are you writing?" he asked.

"I'm writing about how everything looks, in detail and how it makes me feel," she responded.

Dean arched an eyebrow at that. "How it makes you feel?"

"Yes."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

Tessa didn't look at him, but responded as she wrote on. "I mean, how what I see, and hear, and smell makes me feel."

"I don't get it."

She looked at him then. "Look at the steer."

Dean did. "Okay."

"How do you feel when you look at them? You just told me that they are fine animals," Tessa said.

Dean looked into her deep blue eyes looking at him so eagerly and wanted to please her. He thought about it carefully. "Proud, I guess. It took a lot of hard work to breed such good stock."

"Yes! Proud! And you should be. I've seen some steers back east and I don't think they're as nice as these. Look at how strong their shoulders are and sleek and healthy their coats are!" Tessa was still writing as she talked. After a minute, though, she put away her notebook and pencil.

Marcus leaned up from the wagon box. "Someday, I'd love to read some of your observations."

Tessa turned to him. "Really? Do you enjoy reading?"

"Oh, yeah. He's always reading. You'll have to go to his house sometime. There are more books than anything else in it. I'm surprised he doesn't just sleep on them," Dean said.

Marcus smiled. "It's true."

"When I get them more polished, I would certainly welcome your insight. In fact, you are both welcome to read them," Tessa said.

Dean said, "I'd like that. I really enjoyed your letters, so I can just imagine what your other writing is like."

Tessa was flattered. "Thank you," she said with a smile and blushed.

"Pa! Pa! Is that her?"

Dean looked up and saw his children running toward them as fast as they could.

"Here we go. Prepare yourself. Both of them have been on pins and needles waiting for you to get here. We all have," Dean told her.

Tessa looked in his eyes and saw that flicker of something unnamable. Then the children arrived and her attention became focused on them.

"Hi! I'm Jack. Boy, you're pretty. Can you cook? I like to eat," Jack stated as he climbed on board the wagon and squeezed between Tessa and Dean.

"Mind your manners, Jack," Dean said a little gruffly.

Jack barely gave his father a glance. "Okay. But can you?"

Tessa smiled down at him. He looked a lot like Dean. "Honestly, I haven't had much chance, but I'm a quick learner. I'm Tessa and it's very nice to finally meet you. I'm looking forward to becoming friends."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, me, too. It's okay if you can't cook. I can't either."

Tessa smiled and then turned and looked down at Sadie. "And this pretty young lady must be Sadie," she said.

Sadie blushed and smiled. "Thank you, ma'am. Pleased to meet you. Jack's right, you're beautiful and your clothes are so pretty."

"Why, thank you," Tessa said.

"C'mon, Sadie. I'll help you up here," Marcus said and held out an arm.

Sadie grabbed on and giggled as Marcus swung her up into the wagon. She came to stand behind Jack, holding onto the back of the wagon seat. "What's Pittsburgh like?" Sadie asked as they drove beneath the arch that marked the entrance to their ranch.

Dean chuckled. "Sadie, let Tessa get settled and a little rested before asking so many questions. We're all gonna have time to get to know each other, but it doesn't all have to happen right now."

"Okay, Pa. Sorry, Miss Theresa," Sadie said respectfully.

"That's quite all right. I promise I'll tell you anything you want to know. And I have a lot of questions of my own. Oh, and please call me Tessa," she said.

"Tessa?" Sadie said.

"It's my nickname," Tessa informed her.

Dean pulled the team to a stop in front of the house. "Okay. Here we are."

Tessa turned and was instantly charmed by the house. It was a wooden two story structure with quite a few windows. A nice porch wrapped around it and several wooden rocking chairs sat behind the railing. It was a rustic brown in color. Tessa didn't know a whole lot about construction, but it looked sturdy and well put together.

Dean watched Tessa closely as she looked the place over. He was nervous about what she'd think of it because he knew her family was rich and lived in a large mansion. He knew their place couldn't compare to the kind of home Tessa was used to. Her eyes moved quickly, he noticed.

As he looked at her profile, Dean was struck again by how beautiful Tessa was. She had a pretty, straight nose and a graceful neck. Her dark hair shone with good health. He had a sudden urge to touch it to see if it felt as soft as it looked. Dean's hands tightened imperceptibly on the reins as he fought the impulse.

Tessa turned to him with her eyes shining. "It's lovely! I can see the care that went into building it and you certainly keep it well maintained.

Dean grinned as relief flowed through him. "Thanks. I was afraid you wouldn't like it."

"No need to worry," Tessa said.

"Good." Dean stepped down from the wagon. "I'll help you down."

"All right," Tessa said.

Dean grasped her by the waist and helped her down. The physical contact sent a jolt of awareness through Tessa. Her hands rested on his large biceps and his scent reached her nostrils. He smelled of hay and horses and a little sweat. The combination was far from repulsive. It was a little primal and she felt a stirring of desire.

Dean was having much the same feelings. He hadn't touched another woman since Sarah and her waist and lower back felt soft, yet firm. It scared him a little that he could desire another woman. He cleared his throat and stepped back quickly.

"There. Ready for the tour?" he asked.

Tessa had sensed the change in him and frowned a little. Then she chastised herself for being so silly. Of course he was not going to engage in anything physical in front of the children or Marcus. Besides, they didn't know each other nearly well enough for anything like that.

She brightened. "Of course."

As they moved through the house, the kids told her a lot of things about it. She found the interior of the house as charming as the exterior. The kitchen was clean and orderly. The cupboards were carved with intricate flowered patterns. Tessa ran her fingertips over them.

"Where did you ever get these beautiful doors?"

"Uncle Marcus made them," Sadie said.

Tessa turned to him. "You did these?"

Marcus nodded.

"You are an expert craftsman, Marcus. I have to say I've never seen any finer work. In Pittsburgh, your services would by highly sought after," she said.

Marcus was a little bashful, which wasn't like him. "Really? Thank you."

"He's always doing something with wood. People around here get him to carve and whittle a lot of stuff," Dean said.

"I can see why."

They moved to the front parlor and Tessa fell in love with it. The light coming in the windows made it a bright, cherry room. Pretty white eyelet curtains dressed the windows. The furniture was of good quality. A large braided rug of browns and pinks covered much of the shiny wooden floor. Tessa saw a woman's touch all over the room.

"Your wife was very talented in furnishing a home. It's lovely. Did she make the curtains?" Tessa asked.

Dean nodded. "She could make almost anything that way. Clothes, quilts, baby blankets, curtains. You name it." It made him feel good to see Tessa appreciating Sarah's handiwork.

Tessa saw a picture on the mantel of the fireplace and crossed the room to it. It was of Dean, Sarah, and younger versions of Jack and Sadie. They were all dressed in their finest clothes and they were all smiling. Tessa focused on Sarah. She was a beautiful woman with brown eyes and light brown hair.

They all looked so happy. It was such a shame that her life had been cut short and that their baby had perished. Those thoughts brought tears to Tessa's eyes. Dean saw her lips tremble and wondered at the cause.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Tessa looked up at him and he saw that her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry for your loss. She was a beautiful woman and I know that she will always be missed."

Dean felt a lump form in his throat and he found it difficult to speak. "She was beautiful and Sadie looks just like her. It's been hard."

Tessa nodded. "How could it not be? As I said in my letters, I am not here to take her place, but to make my own in your lives. Please don't feel that you cannot talk about her around me. I would like to know all about such a wonderful woman."

"We have all kinds of stories to tell you about her," Sadie said. "She was so much fun and made great cookies."

"I'm sure she was. Do you have the recipe?" Tessa said.

Sadie nodded.

"Maybe we could make them together sometime."

"I would love that!" Sadie said.

"Me, too," Jack piped up. "I really like cookies."

Tessa laughed. "I have a feeling that you like almost any kind of food."

"Yup," the little boy said.

Dean was glad the children had lightened the moment. It gave him a chance to compose himself. "Well, why don't I show you your room? Follow me."

Tessa followed Dean up the staircase. The boards under her feet creaked a little, but they were sturdy and she had no fear that they would fall through. The stairs opened into a wide hallway. There were two doors on the right and one on the left. A window at the end of the hallway let in light. Dean opened the door on the left.

"This is the wash room."

Tessa walked into the room. It was equipped with a large metal tub, wash stand with a porcelain basin and pitcher. The stand itself was elegantly crafted. "Marcus did this as well?"

"No. That one was me. I made it for Sarah's birthday five years ago. I wanted her to have a nice place to bathe. I know how important that kind of thing is to women," Dean replied.

Tessa raised her eyebrows. "Craftsmanship seems to run in the family."

"Our mother was really skilled at it. Her pa taught her," Dean said.

"Really? How unusual," Tessa marveled.

Dean shook his head. "Tessa, you're gonna find that out here, women often work right along with the men doing things like growing crops, carpentry, and taking care of the livestock. When the men are off on a cattle drive, it's the women who are left to keep things going."

"I never thought of that," Tessa confessed.

Dean smiled at her. "I have a feeling we're gonna learn a lot from each other."

"Me, too."

"Well, c'mon. I'll show you your room," Dean said.

She followed him again. He opened the first door on the right and motioned her through. Tessa saw a large four-poster bed standing sentinel in the room. A quilt done in bright greens and blues covered it. There was a dresser and a small chest at the foot of the bed. Tessa saw that there was no closet, but there was a long row of pegs on one wall.

"It's probably not as big or pretty as yours back home, but it's homey," Dean said.

"Yes, it is and I'll be quite comfortable here, I'm sure."

"Sadie's room is the other one up here. Jack's room is downstairs. He likes the little one off the kitchen. Mine is the one beyond the parlor," he told her.

"All right."

Marcus arrived with a couple of Tessa's bags then. "There's only a couple more. You travel light for a woman," he teased.

Tessa chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I'll just put them on the bed for now," Marcus said.

"Thank you," Tessa said.

The two men left her and retrieved her other bags. Dean was a very strong man, but by the time he reached the top of the stairs with one of them, he was huffing.

"What the hell is in that thing?" he asked. "Pardon the language."

Tessa laughed. "A lady is allowed to have her little mysteries, gentlemen."

Dean smiled back. "If you say so. Well, we'll leave you to get settled in. We'll get some supper going. I imagine you're pretty hungry."

"Yes, very. All of the fresh air has given me quite an appetite," Tessa said.

They left and Tessa stood still for a few moments, getting her bearings. She looked around the unfamiliar room and felt a pang of homesickness. She also felt guilty about leaving the way she had but knew that it had been the only way. Her father especially would have never allowed her to leave and would have had her watched to make sure she didn't. It would have been out of love, but Tessa knew that eventually, it would have made her bitter to be trapped in a life she didn't want.

Then she brushed off the negative feelings and let all of the excitement return. She looked down at her clothing and decided to change. She was disheveled and it would feel good to be in fresh clothing and wash up a little.

She opened the valise that contained her new clothes and pulled out the necessary items. She was excited to wear a little less clothing, as the women in these parts did. All of the undergarments were binding and it was hotter here, so it would feel good to wear something cooler.

Tessa chose a pretty calico print dress, gathered her toiletries, and went next door to the wash room. She didn't have time for a bath, so she just used the cool water in the bucket on the floor to wash up in and then put on her new clothes. She checked her appearance and was pleased with the way she looked. It was a more relaxed fashion, yet still attractive. Her hair was still in the more formal style, so she took it down and brushed it out. She then French braided it. Again, Tessa was happy with the way it looked. She dabbed a little bit of rosewater behind her ears and her toilet was complete.

She hurriedly put away her things and headed downstairs. As she reached the landing, Sadie and Jack met her there. Sadie took her hand and led her to the kitchen.

"Aunt Lydia is here to meet you. She helped make supper, too," the girl said.

"Splendid!" Tessa was happy to have another woman to talk to.

As Lydia watched Tessa walk into the kitchen hand in hand with Sadie, she thought that some kind of an angel was coming her way. The girl was certainly beautiful and Dean and Marcus and the children seemed to like her, but Lydia was going to test her right away. She was protective of these people who had quickly become her family and she wasn't going to put up with any funny business.

"Hello, Theresa. I'm Lydia Benson, neighbor to the Samuels, and adopted family. It's good to finally meet you," Lydia said formally.

"Please, Lydia, you must call me Tessa. All of my close family and friends do, and I certainly hope we quickly become friends. It's so good to meet you, as well. Dean has told me many good things about you and your husband, Charlie," Tessa said. She understood that Lydia's words were meant as a warning and wanted to put the older woman at ease.

Tessa extended her hand and gave Lydia a warm smile. Lydia looked closely at Tessa, searching for any sign of falsity or malice. Finding none, she took Tessa's hand and shook it.

"Likewise. I like your dress and you have beautiful hair," Lydia said.

"Thank you. Something smells good," Tessa said.

"Aunt Lydia made fried chicken and mashed potatoes," Jack told her. "That's my favorite."

Dean laughed. "Almost everything is his favorite."

He had finally been able to speak again after watching Tessa come into the room. He remembered feeling the same way about Sarah when he'd first met her and the fact that he was having similar feelings made him uncomfortable.

"C'mon and sit down. We're almost ready to eat," Lydia said. To Jack, she said, "Go find your Uncle Seth and let him know to get his rear to supper."

Jack tore out the door, intent on his mission.

"Is there something I can do to help?" Tessa asked.

"No, no, dear. Please sit. You traveled a long way and need to rest yourself," Lydia replied.

Tessa smiled. "All right, but I intend to earn my keep, you know."

Lydia laughed. "Don't worry, you will."

Supper was delicious. Tessa had never eaten fried chicken before and wondered at how tasty it was. The mashed potatoes were creamy and flavored well with butter. There was also canned corn from the last season. Between her empty stomach and the stress of meeting Dean and his family, Tessa's appetite was great and she cleaned her plate quickly.

She'd always eaten with decorum but wasn't shy about eating her fill, even at social events. Women had remarked how jealous they were that she could eat like that and still retain her figure. Tessa told them it was the horseback riding and a lot of walking, both of which were true.

Finally, she put her fork on her plate and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. She leaned back with a contented sigh. "That was incredible."

Dean smiled at her. "It's always nice to see a woman eat well and I'm glad you enjoyed it. Not surprised, though. Lydia's a wonderful cook."

"Yes, she is," Tessa agreed.

"Now go on with you both," Lydia said, but Tessa could tell she was pleased by the praise.

Seth said, "Quit acting so shy about, Lydia. If your cooking stunk, we wouldn't want you to make stuff." He winked at Lydia.

Tessa smiled. Seth and Dean looked a lot alike but had different personalities. Marcus and Seth had similar attitudes. Dean was more serious than the two of them and Tessa wondered if it had always been that way or if it was only since Sarah and their baby had passed. She became lost in her musings for a few moments.

"Tessa?"

It was Sadie who brought her back. "Yes?"

"Will you show me how to braid my hair like that? I can braid, but yours is different," the girl said.

"Of course. I'll show you tomorrow," Tessa promised.

"Thank you."

Tessa looked down into her eager little face and felt something inside her tilt a little. She had a sudden feeling that it would be hard for her to deny Sadie anything. "You're welcome."

"I don't need my hair braided," Jack stated. "What do I get?"

"Jack!" Dean said. "Mind your manners."

"Yes, Pa," Jack said, but didn't seem very sorry.

Tessa had a hard time not smiling. She looked at Lydia to distract herself but the other woman seemed to be having the same problem. "Well, actually, I have a little something for each of you. I'll be right back."

She rose from the table and hurried upstairs.

Dean watched her go, her skirts swishing as she went. He couldn't help appreciating her fine figure. He turned back to the table and saw that both of his brothers were watching her as well. "Knock it off," he said.

"C'mon, Dean. You can't blame us," Seth said with a smile. "You say she has sisters?"

"Don't get any bright ideas," Dean warned. "Not unless you're suddenly serious about settling down?"

Seth snorted and finished his iced tea.

"Didn't think so."

Marcus chuckled. "Let's see; she's beautiful, cultured, educated, and brings presents? I'd say she's a keeper."

Lydia smacked his arm. "Be serious for once, Marcus. This isn't a game."

"Sheesh! I was just kidding," Marcus rubbed his arm but sobered.

Tessa came back into the room carrying one of her suitcases. Dean rose and took it from her. "You should have told me what you were up to. I'd have carried it for you."

She laid a hand on his arm briefly. "You are quite the gentleman, but I was quite capable."

"All right."

Tessa pulled her chair out a little more and then sat down with the suitcase in front of her.

"I didn't wrap them in fancy paper because I was afraid it would get ripped, so I hope you'll pardon the wrapping. Sadie, this is for you."

She handed a package to her. Sadie took it carefully and opened it. It was a little white jewelry box done in white satin with a pink bow on the top. She opened it and inside stood a tiny ballerina. Tessa showed her the winding key on the bottom and soon, the ballerina began to spin, dancing to pretty music.

"It's beautiful!" Sadie said. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome." Tessa turned to Jack. "And now for the young master." She reached into her suitcase and pulled out another package.

Jack pounced on it and ripped it open. He stopped when he saw the little tin train and train tracks. His mouth hung open and everyone laughed.

Dean said, "I don't think I've ever seen him speechless except when he's sleeping."

"Thanks, Tessa. It's great," Jack said finally. He promptly began playing with it on the kitchen floor.

Lydia was shocked when Tessa handed her a present. "For me? Why?"

"Because I know that you are family and there was no way I was going to leave you out. Besides, as one woman to another, you can never have too much of this," Tessa answered.

Lydia opened the package and gasped. It was a fine French perfume. Delicately, she sniffed at the bottle and closed her eyes. It was glorious. "You didn't have to, but I'm sure glad you did. You're right. I haven't ever smelled anything like it. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Marcus. You're next."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Here."

He took the gift, which turned out to be a set of leather bound journals. He gave her a questioning glance. "They're beautiful."

"Oh, shoot. That's the wrong one. I mean, it is and it isn't," Tessa was slightly flustered and pulled out another one. "This is the real gift."

The second one revealed an autographed copy of Dickenson's _A Tale of Two Cities._ He looked at Tessa sharply. "How? Why?"

"I was privileged several years ago to be able to meet him and have him sign this book. I've gotten much joy from it and would like to pass it on to you because as another avid reader, I know that you would draw as much enjoyment from it as I," Tessa explained. Before Marcus objected, she said, "I shall be extremely offended if you do not accept it."

Dean was enjoying watching her get the best of his little brother. Usually, it was Marcus getting his own way about something. It was nice to see the tables turned.

Marcus smiled, realizing she'd beaten him. "Very well, milady. As you wish."

Tessa clapped and then handed Seth a package. Seth frowned a little but took it when she raised her eyebrows at him. He opened it and found a fine dress shirt and silk tie.

She laughed at his confused look. "As I understand it, you are a bit of a scoundrel. No lady will be able to resist you in those. Trust me."

Seth laughed. "I'm not sure what to think of you."

"Good. I enjoy keeping people guessing," Tessa responded. Then she turned to Dean. "And for you."

Dean looked uncomfortable but took the gift she offered recognizing that he couldn't refuse any more than his brothers had been able. He unwrapped a fine pair of work gloves that were soft yet highly durable. He looked at Tessa in surprise. How had she known he had needed a pair? In fact, all of her gifts were very thoughtful and appropriate to each person.

"Thank you, Tessa," he said. "These will be useful, that's for sure."

"I'm glad."

"I'm sorry, but I don't have anything for you. We weren't expecting gifts," Dean said.

Tessa sought to soothe his pride. "Yes, you have. You've opened up your home to me and allowed me to meet your family. Not only that, but I want you to teach me some things. So although the presents may not be purchased, think of them as education. Lydia, will you please show me how to make chicken like that and some other things?"

"Yes, of course."

"Marcus, I'd be very grateful if you were to show me how to whittle something?"

"Sure," he said with a smile.

"Seth, I would enjoy it if you were to tell me what a real cattle drive is like so I can write about it."

"Okay, but that doesn't seem like much of a present," Seth replied.

"To someone like me, it is," Tessa assured him.

"And Dean, please show me how to cut a calf from the herd?" Tessa leaned toward him, her eyes pleading with him. "You said that when the men are gone, the women have to carry on, so I see no reason why I shouldn't be allowed to learn something like that. What if one becomes sick and needs tending? I might need to separate it so it can be treated." She heard a snicker behind her and frowned at Marcus.

"Sorry, but you're awful cute when you're determined," he said.

Dean tried not to, but he couldn't prevent the laugh that started in his chest. "Not you, too!" she said in dismay.

"I'm sorry. Marcus is right. You're very pretty with your eyes all bright and your pink cheeks. Are you sure you really want to learn that? It's dangerous."

Tessa crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you implying that I'm a weak woman and can't handle it?"

Lydia heard the steel under Tessa's cultured voice and sat back to watch the show.

"Uh, no, not exactly," Dean said.

"Mr. Samuels, I should like you to explain to me in exact words, then, what your concerns are so that I may put them to rest," she said.

Dean frowned at her formal tone. "All right. Have you ever ridden a cow horse?"

"No, but I have ridden a lot of horses, including rather difficult ones," she said.

"Okay. Have you ever been around cattle, I mean, up close?" Dean said.

"Does being able to milk a bad-tempered cow count? Or being unafraid to pet a bull?"

Dean nodded. "I guess so. How fast do you ride?"

Tessa gave a snort. "I think you mean race and jump, sir."

Marcus and Seth exchanged surprised looks.

"What kind of saddle are we talking? Side saddle?"

"Yes, but I also ride astride," Tessa said. "I know! If you teach this to me, I'll teach you how to jump sidesaddle."

Everyone laughed, even Dean. Marcus had tears in his eyes, he laughed so hard. He couldn't get the picture of Dean in a dress, riding some pretty mare sidesaddle, out of his head.

When the laughter died, Dean said, "All right. You're on."

"Thank you," Tessa said.

Lydia stood and said, "Well, I'd better get this cleaned up. It's starting to get late."

Tessa stood with her. "Please let me help. I've never washed dishes and I'd like to learn."

"No time like the present then," Lydia agreed.

An hour later, she and Lydia had finished and Lydia set about getting the children ready for bed. Tessa decided to leave her to it, figuring she would be learning that soon enough. She also had to remind herself that although she was eager to learn, she didn't want to overstep and offend. She went into the parlor and found a lantern and matches. She lit it and sat in the rocking chair. It was very comfortable. Tessa thought about the day and knew that before she went to bed, she would have to write as much down as possible. Her eyes closed as she rocked gently and soon, she drifted off.

Dean found her that way. He and his brothers had gone to the barn to make sure things were secure and feed the stock while Lydia and Tessa had cleaned up the kitchen. The kitchen was empty when he came in. Seth had retired to his bunkhouse and Marcus had headed on home. He saw the light coming from the parlor and went in.

Tessa sat in Sarah's chair, her head tilted to one side. Her eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell slowly. Dean experienced a hollow feeling in his stomach. She was so different in both appearance and personality, but she was a woman and no other woman but Lydia had sat in that chair since Sarah had died. It was both unsettling and nice.

Tessa was a fetching woman and the male part of him responded. Any man would be lucky to have her. Dean wondered why a woman of her age wasn't married, especially one who obviously came from money and had all of the positive attributes Tessa had.

Tessa stirred and opened her eyes. Their gazes locked and that unnamed something passed between them. Tessa smiled, her soft lips curving and her eyes shining softly in the lantern light.

"Hello. You caught me nodding off, I'm afraid," she said.

Dean smiled. "You looked comfortable."

"Very. This is a wonderful chair," she said.

"I bought the set of chairs when Sarah was expecting Sadie. I traded a heifer for them. Her feet would swell and her back would hurt when she was farther along," he said.

"She was a lucky woman to have such a thoughtful husband and I know you were all lucky to have her," Tessa said.

Dean nodded. "Isn't it strange for you to come here with the possibility of marriage and be talking about my late wife?" He sat down in the other chair.

"Did you expect me to be jealous?" Tessa asked.

"Something like that. I reckon that a lot of women wouldn't want to talk about her, that they wouldn't want to be compared or something."

"Yes, I've known women like that. They somehow felt as if they were walking in the shadow of the first wife," Tessa agreed. "I think that's unreasonable, especially when that family had such a happy life together. Of course, they're not just going to forget all about her and I don't expect any of you do that with Sarah. Dean, I knew what I was getting into when I answered that advertisement. Do you know why I chose yours?"

Dean laughed. "I have no idea."

"Because though it was brief, it was full of heart and honesty. There have been a lot of marriages that have had neither of those. Marriages in my circles have been built for purely business reasons and the need to produce heirs. I didn't want that kind of life."

"Is that the way it is with your parents?" he asked.

Tessa's smile lit up her face. "Oh, no. They are an exception. My father is Irish, hence the O'Connor name. My mother is of English decent. He's hot-tempered, humorous, and ruthless in business and sometimes in personal relationships. She's sweeter tempered, but cold as ice when she's angry. They're fire and ice and completely in love."

Dean smiled. "My parents were the opposite. Two peas in a pod. If they ever fought, I never knew it. They had a great marriage."

"That's what I'm after. I know this will take time, but I'm confident so far," Tessa said.

Dean smiled and said, "I'm going to turn in. Do you need anything?"

Tessa rose. "Yes. I should do the same. I'm fine. Good night, Dean."

"'Night, Tessa."

He watched as she left the room and listened as she walked up the stairs. Dean felt bad that he hadn't been able return her sentiment, but it was best he was honest. As he went to bed, Dean tried to not think about the fact that a very attractive, available woman who had come there to possibly marry him was now sleeping above him. He failed.

#  Chapter Eight

Dean was in a panic. Things with Tessa were going very well. She was curious about everything and tried to learn and when she failed, she tried again. It was obvious she was never going to be as good of a cook as Lydia, but they wouldn't starve and she wasn't going to give up working on it. There were a lot of other things at which she excelled, however.

Dean had been skeptical at first, thinking that it wouldn't be long before her real colors showed. He didn't want to admit it, but he had a tiny bit of prejudice when it came to the upper classes and figured that she would grow bored when she saw how hard life was there and end up going home. He was chagrined to find out that wasn't the case.

The children loved her. She coaxed Jack into doing math by daring him that he couldn't do it. It seemed that she understood that men were predisposed to not being able to turning down a dare and little boys were no different. Sadie was a willing pupil, however, and had no problem with studying. Tessa wasn't above playing hide and seek with them or cleaning a stall.

Dean had come running from the barn one day when he heard a woman shrieking in the vicinity of the house. Expecting to see some catastrophe, he couldn't reconcile what he found at first. Tessa was tied to a tree and Jack was running around it whooping like an Indian. Every time he showed her his tomahawk, Tessa would scream and they would laugh. Dean smiled at their playacting and went back to the barn.

Lydia liked Tessa, too. The two women seemed to enjoy their time together as Lydia taught her about manually running a home and Tessa regaled her with stories of her family and Pittsburgh's social life. His brothers also seemed to be under Tessa's spell. Dean liked her and felt that there might be something between them, but he couldn't truly let himself explore it.

He sat out on the porch a little over three weeks since Tessa had arrived, stewing about things. It was just after dusk and the night was muggy. It would most likely storm at some point. Seth appeared out of the dark and sat down beside him.

"What?" Seth said.

Dean looked over at him. "I didn't say anything."

"No, but I heard you thinking from over here," Seth answered. "What's the problem?"

"What am I going to do about Tessa?" Dean said. "She's one hell of a woman, but she's not going to stay here forever and wait for me to make up my mind."

"You're right on both counts. Do you like her?" Seth asked.

"Heck yeah. Everyone likes her."

"Dean, you know what I'm talking about. Do you wanna grab her and kiss her and-"

"Hey! I know what you're saying. Look at her, who wouldn't?"

"Exactly, so don't wait too long. You pining for Sarah could cost you a lot of happiness." Seth got up and walked off to his bunkhouse then.

Dean thought about Seth's remarks over the next couple of days and decided his older brother was right. He watched Tessa in a new light and separated his feelings for Sarah from what he felt about Tessa. He found her engaging and desirable. It was time to court her.

Tessa was intensely attracted to Dean and was disappointed that he didn't seem to be more interested. She told herself that she was silly to think he would be like the men back home, in that they were rather bold about what they wanted and she didn't have to guess at what they thought of her. Dean was a different breed and Tessa could tell she was going to have to work harder to figure him out.

That's why she was surprised one night after dinner when Dean said to the children, "You practice your lessons for a while. I want to show Tessa the horse she's going to ride tomorrow."

"Okay, Pa," Sadie said. She pulled out some paper and a book. Jack reluctantly sat at the table with his sister.

Tessa followed Dean out to the barn. She was further surprised when he took her hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips were soft and warm on her skin and her breath quickened at the contact. She looked at him with questions in her eyes. Dean leaned close to her and ran a thumb over her cheek. It was smooth to the touch.

"Tessa, I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed having you here. I never dreamed that when that ad was put in the paper, that someone like you would answer it and want to come here," he said.

She smiled and Dean's eyes followed the motion of her lips. "I never imagined all of this would come from my answering it, either. It's been wonderful. You have a beautiful family, Dean. Your children are adorable and Sadie is going to be a beautiful young woman. Jack is all you. And I can't even begin to really tell you how much I value Lydia's friendship. And your brothers, too."

"I'm glad you like it here and all of them. What about me, Tessa? How do you feel about me?" Dean asked. He was anxious about what she might say, but he had to know.

Tessa's eyes lowered for a moment and then she looked him square in the eye. "I think you are a wonderful man. You run a successful business, even though things have been difficult at times, and your children adore you. My only regret is that you seem to want to keep me at arm's length. I want to know you better, but you have to let me in. How do you feel about _me_ , Dean?"

Dean looked down into a face that he had grown eager to see every morning and he stroked her silky hair. It was softer than he'd imagined and he wanted to bury his hands in it. Instead of answering her with words, Dean gently pulled her closer and dipped his head so that he could press his lips to hers.

Joy surged through Tessa as they kissed and she couldn't ever remember feeling like this. The kiss ended and Dean smiled down at her.

"Well, that was nice," he said.

Tessa cleared her throat. "Yes, it was."

"Theresa O'Connor, may I court you?" Dean asked. "I know I should have asked before, um, well, that, but I just couldn't help myself. My apologies."

"Don't you dare apologize for doing something I've wanted to do for a while now," Tessa said. "The answer is yes, you may court me."

Dean grinned down at her and Tessa responded in kind. "We better get looking at that horse or we're going to be in trouble."

Tessa laid a hand on Dean's arm. "Well, then I suppose we should see about this horse," she said.

A month went by, during which Dean courted Tessa in earnest. He took her to Wolf's Point for a special night out and moonlight rides. Tessa made Dean laugh more in that month than he'd laughed in the past three years. She got him to do silly things that he hadn't done since Sarah and he had been like a teenager, chasing her through a field or playing acting.

Dean hadn't felt this way in so long and he began having hope that he could finally get past his grief and perhaps build a new life with this amazing woman. He didn't tell Marcus so, but he was grateful to his little brother for going ahead and placing that advertisement. If he hadn't, Tessa would have never come here and Dean wouldn't have a second chance at happiness.

One night, Dean paced the floor in his room after they'd gone to bed. He knew it was time for him to make up his mind about Tessa. It seemed that they were compatible on many levels and he could certainly do worse for a wife. It wasn't fair to her that she was kept in limbo and it wasn't fair to himself or his children. They were very attached to Tessa now and he didn't want their feelings hurt if she stayed even longer and then something didn't work out between her and Dean and she left. He decided that a trip to Wolf's Point was necessary.

The next day, he made the trek, telling Tessa and the children that he had to go work on the farthest part of their land. He didn't get back until almost sundown. Tessa had waited supper on him and he walked in to find that she'd made a meatloaf with potatoes and green beans. It was good and he remarked about how her cooking was improving, which delighted her.

One day a short time after this, he rode over to Lydia and Charles' house. Their kids came out and surrounded him. They loved Dean and were always full of questions for him. This day, they wanted to know where Tessa was. She always played with them.

He sent them away and headed out to the barn, where he knew he'd find Charlie. Charlie was a big, gruff man with iron gray hair and mustache. He was a few years older than Lydia. He looked up as Dean came in the barn and could tell the younger man was thinking about something.

"What's on your mind, son?" he asked as he polished a bridle.

Dean sat down next to him and pulled out a ring box from his pants pocket. He opened it and showed Charlie. Charlie whistled.

"Nice ring. It's unexpected. I didn't know you felt that way about me," Charlie said.

Dean laughed. "Shut up, you old fart."

Charlie chuckled. "So, you're gonna ask her to marry you. I think it's a good move. She's a good woman and it doesn't hurt that she's easy on the eyes. The kids like her a lot, too."

"I know. She's funny and smart and yeah, beautiful, and I'd be crazy to let her get away, right?" Dean said. "You know, I'm confident about everything else. The ranch, my kids, breaking horses, breeding cattle, growing crops, but when it comes to a new woman in our lives, I get all wishy-washy."

Charlie laughed. "I'm not surprised. It can be a hard thing. I think your head and heart are in the right place, though."

"I'm gonna ask her tonight. I can't put it off any longer or I'll lose the nerve," Dean said. "Well, the next time you see me, I hope to be an engaged man."

Dean and Tessa lay out on a blanket in one of the pastures. Marcus was babysitting to make sure the kids didn't disturb them. Dean rolled over and looked down at Tessa. The moonlight created a soft glow on her face. He loved the way she smiled at him.

"Tessa, you are a wonderful woman and we are so lucky you're here. Since you arrived, you've made things better for us all, but especially for me. After Sarah died, I never wanted to get involved with another woman. I never wanted to feel that kind of pain again. You've changed my mind about that and made me think that I could be happy again. I don't want to let you slip through my fingers. Theresa Marie O'Connor, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Tessa's heart filled with joy and tears welled in her eyes. "I've never met a man like you, Dean. Someone strong and devoted and honest. It's wonderful here and I adore your children. I've always said that I didn't want to replace Sarah in their eyes and I still mean it, but it means so much to me that you would trust me with them. I promise to be a good wife and a good mother-figure. I love you and yes, Dean, I'll marry you."

Dean took out the ring box and opened it. The moonlight glinted off the small diamond and Tessa's breath caught in her chest. Dean lifted her left hand and slipped the ring on her third finger. Tessa looked at the ring and thought it beautiful. More than its beauty, what it represented was something that was much more meaningful.

She wasn't upset that Dean hadn't told her he loved her. Tessa knew men well enough to know that they sometimes couldn't say that kind of thing but she hoped that one day, she would hear those words. Right now, she was happy that he'd showed her by asking for her hand and giving her a ring.

Tessa looked up at this handsome man she'd fallen in love with and pulled his head down so she could kiss him. They kissed each other tenderly as the moon shined its approving light on them.

#  Chapter Nine

Dean and Tessa broke the news to the children at breakfast the next day. Sadie was thrilled and wanted to know when they were getting married. Jack was happy about it but quickly moved on to more pressing matters, like what they were having for breakfast. The rest of the family was equally happy and the couple was congratulated by all.

Neither Dean nor Tessa wanted a lengthy engagement and the ceremony date was set for the next month when the circuit preacher would be in Dawson County again. Tessa showed Lydia her dress.

"I can't believe you brought it with you," Lydia said. "It's gorgeous."

Tessa held it against her. "I wanted to be prepared and I wasn't sure that there was any kind of a dressmaking boutique near here. Do you really like it?"

Lydia said, "Yes, and so will Dean. He's going to be bowled over when he sees you."

"I'm so nervous, Lydia. Unbelievably happy, but nervous nonetheless," Tessa said.

"Getting married is serious business. It's not to be taken lightly because it's for the rest of your life." Lydia took Tessa's hand. "I know that you and Dean belong together. I see the way you look at each other and it reminds me of Charlie and me. We were so in love and it didn't take us long to get married either. So don't be nervous. Just be happy."

Bolstered by Lydia's assurances, Tessa's fears melted away and she concentrated on the festive occasion ahead of her.

The ceremony was simple yet elegant, thanks to Lydia's eye for detail. She and Sadie decorated the small chapel in Dawson County with flowers and ribbons. The effect was quaint. Tessa became a little teary-eyed over the fact that her family wasn't there to witness her wedding day, but she told herself that perhaps they could come west sometime and celebrate. She also felt guilt over sneaking away to start a new life without a proper good-bye. It had been necessary though, because she would have never been allowed to do so if she had been upfront about it.

Dean was incredibly nervous as he waited at the altar. He fidgeted with his tie and jacket. What if he was making a mistake? Once the ceremony was over, that was it; there would be no going back. He cared greatly for Tessa but wasn't sure if he loved her. In a way, it wasn't fair to her, but she didn't seem to be worried about that.

Seth kept trying to calm him down. He was Dean's best man. Marcus was also standing up with him. The preacher, John Williams, was a circuit minister and was in town for a week to minister to the parishioners there. Lydia was Tessa's maid of honor and Sadie was thrilled to be her bridesmaid. Jack had happily accepted the duties of ring bearer. Charlie was giving her away.

Pastor John's wife, Melody, played the wedding march on the piano. When Dean saw Tessa coming down the aisle, he couldn't breathe for a moment. She was incredibly beautiful and he couldn't believe she was marrying him. He was a lucky man and he vowed to do his best to make her happy.

Tessa's hair was done in an updo with baby's breath woven into it. Her deep blue eyes were alight with happiness. She wore just a hint of lipstick. The dress she wore was lovely with a tight, demur bodice and a full, flowing skirt. She carried a bouquet of lavender and baby's breath.

When she reached the altar, Charlie gave her hand to Dean. He squeezed her hand and looked into her lovely eyes. Her smile was radiant as they said their vows. When they exchanged their vows, there were tears of joy in her eyes.

Pastor Williams said, "By the powers invested in me by the state of Montana, Dawson County, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

Dean's kiss was long and tender and Tessa lost herself in it. Sadie giggled and it made Dean and Tessa break apart. Dean leaned his forehead on Tessa's and chuckled.

"I guess I forgot that there were other people here," he whispered.

"Me, too," Tessa said.

They turned and faced the wedding participants. The minister presented the newlyweds to them and they were congratulated and embraced. They held a celebratory meal in the basement of the chapel. It was a small affair, but jubilant nonetheless. They cut the cake and fed each other a piece amid cheers and laughter.

Lydia and Charlie were taking Sadie and Jack for a week to give the newlyweds privacy. Dean and Tessa bid them goodbye and drove off in their buggy, which had been decorated with ribbons and flowers.

Dean was quiet on the drive to their ranch.

"What are you thinking about, husband?" Tessa asked. She loved the way that sounded.

Dean smiled at her. "I was just thinking that I'm a lucky man and that I'm looking forward to our life together."

"As am I," Tessa said and leaned against Dean.

They turned onto the road leading into the ranch and as the house came into view, Tessa had a true sense of homecoming and saw the ranch in a new light. This was her home now and she was now a married woman. Dean stopped the buggy by the house and helped Tessa down.

"You go on in the house and I'll get the horse taken care of and feed the stock quick, okay?" he said.

Tessa nodded. "Yes, of course. I'll be waiting." She gave Dean a coy look and then entered the house.

Dean hurried to the barn to get his chores done.

When he entered the kitchen, it was dimly lit by candles and two wine glasses sat on the table, over which a lacy table cloth had been placed. Tessa sat in one of the chairs. She poured them each a glass of wine.

Dean loosened his tie and undid several buttons of his shirt. Tessa swallowed at the sight of his bare throat and the top of his chest. "Come and have a drink."

Dean pulled another chair over close to her and sat down. Their legs touched and Tessa felt the heat of his thigh against hers. Tessa picked up her glass. "A toast."

Dean raised his in response.

"To a bright future and a new beginning for us all. May we all share love and laughter and happiness for the rest of our lives," Tessa said.

"Well said," Dean agreed.

They touched their glasses together and then set them down. Dean leaned over and cupped the back of her head. He brushed his mouth gently over hers and such desire as he'd never known rushed through him. Taking her hand, he rose and led her to their bedroom.

#  Chapter Ten

The next two days were filled with happiness for Dean and Tessa. Dean still took care of the stock and Tessa kept the house, but they also had many private moments. One night, they lay outside again. They enjoyed watching the stars together.

"Tell me about the winters here again. You told me about them in your letters and it felt as if I were there, it was so descriptive," Tessa requested.

Dean fought the fear that gripped him. He had no idea what Marcus had told her and he certainly wasn't good with words like Marcus was. "Well, that was a little while ago, so I'm not sure if I remember exactly."

Tessa snuggled closer. "I know. It's all right. It's very hard to recreate something like that."

Dean cleared his throat. "Let's see. They're cold, of course."

"Winters generally are," Tessa said with a laugh.

"The storms can come on real quick. We usually get at least one blizzard each winter. It can get down below zero sometimes and we have to make sure the cattle don't freeze. When we see a blizzard is coming, we string a rope between here and the barn so that we don't get lost going out to feed them. You can't really see where you're going because the snow comes down so thick and fast," Dean told her.

Tessa was puzzled. Dean was giving a general description, but nothing like what his letters had described. As a writer and a student of writing, she recognized that the voice was not the same at all. It was as if someone else had written those letters. Maybe it was just because she had put him on the spot. She had an idea.

"Yes, and you said that the clouds become dark gray, like dull metal," Tessa said.

Dean nodded. "Yep, I did."

Tessa tensed beside him and raised her head so their eyes could meet. "Your letter said no such thing. You didn't write those letters, did you?"

Dean knew his goose was cooked. "Look, I'm not good with words, so I had Marcus help me out."

"Marcus? He wrote them?" Tessa moved away from him. "Did he read the letters I wrote back?"

"Yes. He had to so he knew how to answer them," Dean said. It seemed reasonable to him.

Fury blurred Tessa's vision for a few moments. "I said many personal things in those letters, Dean. Things I didn't think anyone else would ever read! How could you do that? How could you lie to me?"

Dean propped himself up on an elbow. 'I didn't lie. Everything in those letters was true."

Tessa got up and brushed grass from her skirt. "How would you know?" she shouted. "You didn't write them!" She turned and headed for the house.

Dean rose and went after her. He caught her arm and turned her back around. "Everything in them was true. Marcus only wrote what I told him to write. He just said it better than I can," he said.

"Did you approve them before he sent them?" she asked stiffly.

Dean scowled. "No. I figured he knew what he was doing."

Tessa looked down at her arm. "Kindly unhand me. I don't care to be touched by someone I don't know."

"What? You can't be serious. Not after the past few days," Dean said.

Tessa colored because she knew he was referring to their lovemaking. "Yes, well. That won't be happening again. That was when I thought I knew the man I married."

"Tessa, you do know me," Dean insisted. "And I know you. I read every one of your letters, over and over. And we've spent so much time together over the last couple of months. How could we not know each other?"

Tessa ripped her arm out of Dean's grasp. "I said let me go. I came here based on what was said in those letters. You don't even know what was in them. I fell halfway in love just from what they contained. I think I married the wrong brother."

She whirled and entered the kitchen. Tessa marched to their bedroom and packed up her belongings in her suitcases. Dean watched silently as she finished.

"I'm not leaving the house. I'm moving back upstairs. I don't want to leave the children and I'll do my wifely duties, all but one," Tessa said giving him a meaningful look. "I can't share a room with a man I don't know."

Dean began to get angry. "This is ridiculous. You're blowing this way out of proportion."

"Really? Am I?" Tessa's eyes blazed with pain and anger. "I don't think so. Now, if you'll move out of the way, please."

Dean could see by the stubborn set of her jaw and stiff posture that she wasn't going to budge. "Fine. Have it your way," he said and left the house.

Only when she was in her old room upstairs and had deposited her things on the floor did Tessa let the tears come. She shut and locked the door and lay down on her bed. She sobbed quietly into the pillows. Tessa was hurt because Dean had essentially lied to her and he couldn't see it. He didn't think it was a big deal, but to her it was. Had it not been for what was said in those letters, she would have never left home to come west. She would not be married to a man who had deceived her and thought she didn't have a right to be hurt.

Suddenly, she wanted her mother just like she had when she was a little girl and had suffered some kind of hurt. She needed her mother's strength and comfort, but could not have it. Tessa cried herself to sleep as she realized how alone she was and how foolish she had been to come to Montana all alone.

#  Chapter Eleven

When Lydia and Charlie brought the kids back a few days later, Lydia could tell that something was going on with the newlyweds. She waited until after Sadie and Jack had a chance to visit with them before asking about it. Charlie had gone out to the barn with Dean and Sadie and Jack had gone upstairs so Lydia took the opportunity to bring it up.

"Is everything all right?" she asked Tessa.

Tessa smiled. "Of course. Things are fine."

Lydia cocked her head. "I'm your friend, right?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me what's wrong," Lydia said kindly.

Tessa bit her lip, undecided if she should talk to Lydia about it. It was true that they were friends, but she was family to Dean and Tessa wasn't sure who Lydia would side with.

Lydia appeared to read her mind. "Tessa, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

Tessa said down at the table. Her shoulders slumped in dejection. "He lied to me, Lydia. Dean lied to me."

Lydia's brows drew together and her brown eyes held puzzlement. "About what?" Dean was one of the most honest people she knew and it was hard to believe that he'd been dishonest with Tessa. However, she also knew that Tessa didn't lie, so she was ready to hear Tessa out.

"You know that we exchanged quite a few letters," Tessa began.

"Yes."

"His letters were wonderful. He told me about Montana and your lives here in great detail and it was wonderful. We discussed so many things and I first began having feelings for him based on those letters or I would have never come here," Tessa said.

Lydia smiled. "I can understand that."

Tessa sent her a sad smile. "I came to find out a few days ago that he didn't write them. Marcus did."

Lydia's smile faded as Tessa's words sank in. "He didn't write them? Marcus wrote them? Why?"

"He says that Marcus writes and speaks much better about things, that he doesn't describe things the way Marcus does. So he read my letters, told Marcus a basic way how to answer them, and then just let the rest up to Marcus. Marcus read my letters, Lydia. My privacy was invaded. I said things in those letters that were meant for Dean alone. He never even looked at the letters Marcus wrote back to me. That's how I found out that he didn't write them. I was asking him questions about what he'd written and his answers didn't add up. I confess that I tricked him a little. I'm not proud of it, but at least I know the truth," Tessa finished and took a steadying breath. She didn't want to have the children come into the kitchen to find her crying.

Lydia was stunned. It was something she never would have expected of Dean. She saw both sides of the issue. She knew Dean had trouble talking about his feelings and that neither he nor Seth had Marcus' head for reading and writing. Lydia could understand why Dean would get Marcus to write the letters, but he could have handled things differently.

"You think I'm being silly, don't you?" Tessa asked.

Lydia laughed. "No, I don't. It's understandable that you're hurt. He should have asked your permission to have Marcus help him. Dean should have explained the situation, but that's male pride for you, Tessa. I'm sure you're used to dealing with men who have a lot of education, but out here, it's different. As you know, we don't have a school near here, so it was a good thing the boys' father was fairly well educated. My mother was a teacher, so I was lucky, too. Marcus was a natural born student, much the same as Sadie, but Seth and Dean were not and had to work at it."

"I see," Tessa said. "I sometimes forget that it's not as settled here, but it's the principle behind it. He doesn't understand why I'm so upset about it. I feel as if I was brought here under false pretenses. I wanted to connect with _Dean_ and no one else and I feel as if that didn't happen. I moved back upstairs. I couldn't sleep in the same room with him."

Lydia put a hand over her mouth. "Oh, my. I would ask that you don't do anything rash, Tessa. It might take some time, but do you think that there's a chance of forgiveness?"

"I don't know. That might be up to him, Lydia. I'm just so hurt right now," Tessa said.

Sadie came back into the room then and the subject was dropped.

Seth let out a low whistle. "Boy, you really stepped in it, Dean."

Dean's face took on a stubborn scowl. "I told her why and it didn't seem to matter to her. I wasn't trying to lie. I just didn't want her to think I was stupid."

"Hmm. Seems like that's what happened anyway," Seth said with a smile.

"This isn't funny, Seth. She moved back upstairs."

Seth said, "Well, I can't blame her in a way."

"Why?"

Seth shifted in the rocking chair on the small porch of his bunkhouse. "Dean, the only woman you've ever been romantically involved with before was Sarah. You two knew each other as youngsters and fell in love early. She was a sweet woman and I loved her very much," he said. "But take it from someone who's been, uh, involved with a lot more women. There are things that matter most to women and honesty is number one. Even if they don't like what you're saying, if you're honest, they respect you. You weren't completely honest with her and she thinks that everything was a lie."

Dean sighed. "It wasn't. Everything Marcus put in those letters was what I told him to write. He just says it better, that's all."

"Yeah, he sure does. He's like Pa that way. Ma was smart woman, too, don't forget, just in a different way," Seth said.

"I know. Tessa comes from a whole other world, Seth. How was I gonna compete with that?" Dean said.

"Yep, I get that, too."

Dean shot Seth an exasperated look. "You get it, but I'm still wrong somehow. That's what you're saying. She wouldn't even listen to me or try to understand."

Seth chuckled. "Well, that's typical. When anyone's feelings get hurt, it's hard to listen to reason. You know what that's like. Maybe just give her some time and let her temper cool."

Dean said nothing. He may not be a man of many words, but he was a man of action. He was danged if he was going to let this go on. Dean wasn't going to let the woman go on thinking the worst of him.

Tessa was walking along the road that ran adjacent to their property picking some raspberries that had just ripened. Sadie worked along the other side. If they were able to pick enough, Tessa wanted to make a couple of pies. She heard Sadie singing and smiled. Sadie had a sweet voice and Seth especially was always getting her to sing.

The sound of carriage wheels came to Tessa's ears. She looked up to see one in the distance. They didn't get a whole lot of traffic on the road so she was curious about who might be approaching. It was a large carriage pulled by two horses. Sadie stopped picking berries and came to stand with Tessa as it drew closer.

The driver pulled the reins and the carriage came to a halt at the entrance of their ranch.

"Hello, miss. Do you live here? Is this the Samuels place?" he asked.

"Yes," Tessa said.

One of the carriage doors opened and a man alighted. Tessa's face paled and she gasped as she recognized him.

Sadie looked from Tessa to the man and asked, "Tessa, who is he?"

"My father."

#  Chapter Twelve

Geoffrey stood on the dirt road in his fine clothes and looked at his daughter. He knew it was her, but she was dressed as he'd never seen her. Her emerald dress was pretty enough, but there were far less petticoats underneath. Her hair was done in a long braid that reached almost to her waist. Normally, Tessa had worn her hair in a stylish coiffure.

She carried a basket and he could see some berries in it. His daughter was picking berries like hired help. Tessa raised her left hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and he saw the flash of jewelry on her finger. Married? Tessa had married? His feelings were muddled as he stepped forward.

"Tessa!" Above all, he was overjoyed to have found his daughter safe. He had been incredibly worried about her. To find her apparently well gave him immense pleasure. He opened his arms to her.

Tessa couldn't believe her father had found her at first and then remembered that Geoffrey was a man of vast resources and that he possessed a keen intelligence. She was scared but she had greatly missed him. She ran and let herself be enfolded in her father's comforting arms.

They stood there, clinging to each other, tears flowing freely for several minutes. Then Tessa drew back and looked up at her father. "Papa, I know you're angry, but please try to understand."

He looked down at his daughter, who was so much like him. "Yes, I'm angry. We have been worried to death about you. However, this isn't the place to discuss it," he said, with a meaningful glance at the driver. He seemed to notice Sadie for the first time. "And who is this lovely young lady?"

Sadie's cheeks flushed at the compliment. Tessa broke away from Geoffrey and went to Sadie. She took the girl's hand and led her to Geoffrey. "This is my stepdaughter, Sadie Samuels. Sadie, this is my father, Geoffrey O'Connor."

Sadie remembered how Tessa had taught her to greet gentlemen of a higher status. She dropped into a deep curtsy and then rose and looked shyly at Geoffrey. "Pleased to meet you, sir," she said.

Geoffrey hid his shock over the word "stepdaughter" and smiled at her good manners. He bowed to her then and said, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Samuels."

Sadie giggled and picked up her basket again. Tessa picked up her and handed it to Sadie. "Will you please take these to the house and tell your father we have company?"

"Yes, Tessa. Of course." Sadie said and trotted down the lane to the ranch.

Geoff turned to the driver. "Please take my things to their residence and place them where you are directed. Here is your pay as promised. Thank you for your service."

The driver took the money, pleased that it was more than they'd agreed on and tipped his hat to Geoffrey. "Thank you, sir. It's been a pleasure." He started the horses off again, following Sadie's path.

Geoffrey regarded Tessa carefully then. Her skin showed signs of sun and there were a few freckles across her nose. She looked healthy. "So this is where you ran off to. The middle of nowhere, when you had everything you could ever want?"

Tessa felt a prick of anger but squelched it as she tried to see things from his perspective.

"Papa, I don't need material things like Madelyn and Claire do. I told you again and again how I felt, but you didn't listen. No one did. So I did what I had to do. I had to set out on my own and live my life," she said softly. "You of all people should understand that. You left Ireland to come to America, after all."

Geoffrey frowned. "That was different."

"Why? If you say it was because you were a man, you can turn and leave right now," Tessa warned.

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. "Very well. I won't say it and I'm not leaving. At least not before I meet your husband."

"You'll like him," Tessa said, despite her and Dean's recent differences. "He's a good man."

She frowned despite her words. _How can I be proud of Dean and yet be so angry with him,_ she wondered. Tessa looked back up at her father, who was looking at her with intense curiosity. "Come then, Papa."

"Her who is here?" Dean said.

"Her pa, Pa," Sadie said. "He's tall and looks like Tessa."

Jack said, "He's our grandpa then, right?"

"No," Dean said. "Not really."

"I think he is," Jack said stubbornly.

Dean let it go. "Where are they?" he asked, as a carriage pulled up to the house. "Stay," he said to the kids and went outside to meet the driver.

"I have some luggage here," the man said as he climbed down from the vehicle. "Where do you want it?"

"I'll take it, thanks," Dean said.

The driver handed Dean two suitcases made of fine leather and a briefcase. "There you are."

"Thanks," Dean said.

The other man climbed back up on the coach, clicked to the horses, and turned around. He headed off back up the drive.

Dean deposited the bags in the kitchen and warned the children that they weren't to mess with them and told them to stay put. Then he went back out and began walking up the road to meet Tessa and her father. He was nervous about meeting the man. This wasn't like when he'd met Sarah's parents. He'd been fifteen at the time and had become close to them over the years.

No, this was a whole new ball of wax and Dean was nervous. He knew from what Tessa had told him that their family was close and if the roles were reversed and this was Sadie, he knew how he'd react. He rounded a curve in the drive and saw Tessa and the man who was her father.

He was tall with dark hair like Tessa's. His gray suit was made of fine cloth and expertly cut. Even from a distance, Dean could tell that he was physically fit. Dean hastened his pace but not too much. Though he was anxious, he wanted to appear confident when he met his father-in-law.

Geoffrey watched as Dean got closer. He knew without Tessa telling him that this was her new husband. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the man. Geoff could see why Tessa had been attracted to him. Dean's blond good looks and powerful physique would attract any woman. But Geoff knew his daughter well enough to know that there had to be more to the man than good looks. In Pittsburgh, she'd had her pick of many handsome men, but had chosen none. Good looks were not enough for her and for that he was glad.

"Papa, this is my husband, Dean. This is my father, Geoffrey O'Connor," Tessa said as they all came together.

Dean held out his hand and said, "Pleased to meet you, Mr. O'Connor. Tessa's told me a lot of nice things about you and your family."

"Good to meet you, Dean. I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of hearing anything about you," Geoffrey said honestly as he shook hands with Dean.

Dean gave Tessa a questioning glance. "You didn't send a letter home?"

"No, she didn't," Geoffrey said. "We didn't even know where she went. It's a good thing I know some top notch investigators."

Tessa saw anger flash in Dean's eyes and felt a moment's shame.

"I'm sorry about that, sir. I had no idea," Dean said.

Tessa gave him a haughty look. "We can discuss this later," she said. "I'm sure you're tired from your travels, Papa. We should get you settled and something to refresh yourself."

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea," Geoffrey agreed. He knew he didn't need to say anything more about Tessa's wayward behavior. The way Dean had looked at his wife told him that it would be addressed.

He began walking toward the house again. Tessa hung back and put a hand on Dean's arm.

"Dean, I can explain," she said.

"You bet your sweet behind you will," he said. "Seems like dishonesty is going around. I'll keep him busy while you get your stuff packed and move back into our room. I'm not putting a man like that in one of the bunkhouses."

"No, I'm not ready to do that yet," Tessa said.

Dean looked down at Tessa with an unyielding expression. "You better get ready. I can sleep on the floor. I've slept outside enough and it's no problem for me." He pulled his arm away and began walking after her father.

Tessa took another couple of moments to gather her wits and then went after the two men. If ever there was a time she needed her mother's calming influence, it was now.

"So you're our new grandpa, huh?" Jack said to Geoffrey.

Geoffrey wasn't sure how to answer the boy. "Sort of, I suppose."

"But you're Tessa's pa, right?" Jack said.

"Yes."

"So that makes you our grandpa," Jack told him.

Geoffrey smiled. "Right."

"Good. So are you gonna live with us?" Jack asked.

"No, no. I'll be going back to Pittsburgh after a while," Geoffrey said. "But I wanted to meet all of you." He looked up at Dean, who gave him a grateful smile.

"We're glad you're here," Dean said.

Sadie sat a glass of lemonade in front of Geoff and he drank it down. The journey from Wolfe's Point had been long and hot and the cold drink was just what he needed. He asked Sadie for another glass and she readily complied.

Before Dean could stop him, Jack sat down on Geoff's leg and said, "So, Grandpa, tell us about Tessa when she was little."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, Grandpa, tell us all about Tessa."

Geoff gave Dean a sharp look but then relented because Sadie and Jack were looking at him expectantly. He settled Jack better on his lap, thinking that the boy was certainly well fed. "All right. Ah, yes. Here's a story you'll like," Geoffrey began.

Tessa packed her clothing and other things up again, thinking that she couldn't believe her father was here. She should have known that he would look for her and that he had enough money and clout to hire people who would find her. She hoped that he hadn't discovered that Edwina had been involved.

As she carried the cases down the stairs, she was glad that things in the kitchen were noisy so that they wouldn't hear her taking them into her and Dean's room. She put them around the other side of the bed so they couldn't be seen. She would unpack again later that night when everyone was in bed. Using the training she'd received all her life about hiding her true feelings to get through a social engagement, Tessa put on a smile and entered the kitchen.

#  Chapter Thirteen

Tessa stood outside of Buster's stall, stroking his face and neck. She had put the children to bed but wasn't ready to do so herself. Her father had also retired but with the warning that they would get into things more deeply in the morning. Tessa wasn't ready to go to bed because she knew she wouldn't sleep much anyway, but also because she didn't want to be close to Dean.

She heard soft footfalls behind her and closed her eyes as she recognized Dean's steps. _So much for not having a confrontation,_ Tessa thought.

"You know, Tessa, I never pegged you for a hypocrite," he said softly.

She whirled around at his insulting words.

Dean held up a quieting hand. "You accuse me of being a liar and in a way, I guess I was. But I didn't run away and not even tell my family I was getting married. So even though you didn't lie outright, you lied by, by, oh hell, there's a word for it..."

"Omission," Tessa said.

"Yeah, you lied by omission and you put me and the kids in a very bad position. If it was just me, I wouldn't mind so much, but when it comes to my kids, I don't tolerate anything that could hurt them. It's a good thing that your old man is a stand-up guy or else we'd have a real problem and I'm warning you, if things become a problem, I'll deal with it head on," he told her.

"What are you saying?" Tessa said.

"If he starts causing trouble in front of my children, I'll ask him to leave. I'm not gonna be blamed for something you did or didn't do," Dean answered.

"I won't let that happen and I won't let the children be upset, either. Besides which, my father is a wonderful man who has raised three daughters and would never purposely upset a child. You have nothing to worry about."

Dean nodded, apparently satisfied on that score. "So why don't you tell me why you did it? Why did you run away from home and come here and then I'll tell you more about why I had Marcus help me with those letters."

Tessa knew she owed Dean an explanation and she remembered what Lydia had told her about the brothers' upbringing. It seemed like a reasonable trade to her. She took a steadying breath and began her story.

"Is that really what it was like?" Dean asked when Tessa had finished her story.

They'd climbed into the haymow, where Dean had spread out a horse blanket over some hay so they could sit while they talked.

"Yes. An endless life of parties and dinners and never anything new," Tessa said.

Dean said, "I don't blame you for wanting to leave, but why didn't you just tell them you didn't want to do it anymore?"

"You don't understand. It's not like that for women, at least not back East. In many ways, women are considered property and although my parents are wonderful, they saw it as my duty to do what was expected of me. They didn't listen when I _did_ tell them. They believed I was just being silly and figured I would see the error of my ways at some point," she said.

"So you thought up this crazy plan when you saw an ad in the paper for mail order brides? So I was just a way of escape?" Dean couldn't believe how much that stung.

Tessa put a hand on his arm without thinking. "No, I swear. All right, maybe it sort of started out that way, but once we began writing back and forth, getting to know each other, I began to care about you and I wanted to come meet you for you, not as an escape. I still had to sneak away because they would have never let me come here to meet you. And after we met, I knew I'd made the right decision, or at least I thought I had."

Dean sighed. "So that's why you were so mad about the letters. I guess I didn't look at it from your point of view, but I see it now. You left everything you knew behind; your family, friends, and your way of life because of our letters to each other."

Tessa felt hot tears begin to form behind her eyes. "Yes, and when I found that Marcus had written them, or sort of written them, it made me feel as if you hadn't cared enough to write them yourself."

Dean put an arm around her and pulled her close. "That wasn't the case at all. I wanted you to like me and your letter scared me because it was so beautiful and I just can't write like that. I didn't want to sound stupid, so I asked Marcus to help. You wanna hear something funny? And please don't get mad again."

"All right. What is it?"

"Marcus was the one who put that ad in the paper. He knew that I had a lot on my hands with the ranch and the kids and all and he kept teasing me that I should put an ad in the paper for a mail-order bride and finally, one day, I said that he should put it in. I was only joking, but he did it anyway, the jerk," Dean told her.

Tessa laughed. After coming to know Marcus and his mischievous ways, she could well imagine him doing it.

"But, Tessa, once I read that first letter you sent, I wanted to know more about you. You finally got me through my grief about Sarah. She'll always be a part of me and I'll always love her, but I'm not in love with her anymore. I love you, Tessa, only you," Dean said.

His admission of love melted away all of Tessa's doubts and fears. "I love you and I'm sorry I didn't tell you all of this before now. I shouldn't have kept it from you and I promise not to keep anything else from you again."

"Same here," Dean said. "We're married now and we shouldn't have secrets if things are going to work between us."

Tessa took his hand and squeezed it. "You know, for someone who says he's not very smart, you make a very intelligent point."

"Thank you, Mrs. Samuels. I appreciate that," Dean said with a smile.

Tessa said, "Why, you're welcome, Mr. Samuels."

Dean leaned closer and said, "So how about we kiss and make up?"

"Another good idea," Tessa said.

Dean's kiss was gentle at first but grew more passionate quickly. Tessa became warm all over and kissed him back with abandon. When it ended, Dean smiled down at her.

"So were you really serious about wanting children?" he asked.

"You know I am," Tessa said. "Why do you ask?"

He answered by embracing her and kissing her fiercely. Tessa knew that she would have to deal with her father come morning, but for now, she was letting herself be swept away by her love for Dean. She responded in kind and soon, they were lost in one another as the moon shone down on the barn.

#  Epilogue

The next afternoon, Geoffrey and Tessa were walking through the barn, trying to work out their differences.

"Papa, don't you see? I'm not much different than you. As I said yesterday, you struck out on your own, so why shouldn't I have been allowed to?" Tessa asked.

"It was different for me, Tessa. I didn't want to get caught up in all of the fighting. Things were dangerous there. It wasn't what I wanted for myself. I wanted to be my own man and make my own future," he told her.

Tessa arched a brow at Geoff. "Did you hear what you just said?"

Geoffrey went back over it and saw her point. He gave her a considering look. "You tricked me," he said.

"No, you tricked yourself, Papa," Tessa said with a proud smile. "I had nothing to do with it."

"I hate it when I'm outsmarted by a woman," he teased.

Tessa laughed.

Geoffrey sobered. "But your life wasn't in any danger."

"No, not any physical danger, but I was in danger of becoming resentful of the people I love because I couldn't pursue my own dreams and wishes. If I had stayed in that life, I would have withered away inside. Would you want that for me?"

"Of course not."

"And if I had told you what I wanted to do, would you have let me?"

Geoffrey's silence told her the answer.

"Right. So you see that I had no choice and none of this is Dean's fault. He had no idea I'd run away like that, so please don't blame him," Tessa said.

"I understand where you're coming from," Geoffrey said. "And I don't blame him. I could see that he had no knowledge of your subterfuge. I don't necessarily agree with your methods, but I can now accept why you did it."

Tessa hugged her father. "Thank you, Papa. It's a good life here. We're not the richest people when it comes to money, but Dean is a hard worker and he's loves me and the children."

"I can see that he's a good man, Tessa. Those children are a delight. Jack is quite amusing," Geoff said, with a smile at how Jack had started calling him "grandpa" right off.

"You don't know the half of it, Papa. You never know what he's going to say or do," Tessa said. "And he's hard to stay cross with."

"Hmm. I know someone else like that," Geoff said.

"Papa!" Tessa's objected.

By the time two weeks had passed, Geoffrey was convinced his daughter had made a good match and that he would be leaving her in good hands. He enjoyed meeting the rest of Dean's family and had gotten to know them all a little better. Geoff found himself impressed by Marcus' self-taught knowledge. Seth entertained him with stories of his exploits on cattle drives and he told some of his own adventures in Ireland.

Too soon, it came time for her father to head back, which made Tessa realize how much she missed her family. Geoffrey promised that he would try to bring the whole family to meet them the following spring.

Dean and Tessa drove Geoffrey to Wolfe's Point to meet the stage coach. They waved him goodbye and Tessa couldn't help but cry. Dean held her and whispered comfort. Tessa finally dried her eyes and smiled.

"I'm all right now. We'll write lots of letters and keep in touch and next year will be here before you know it, right?" she said.

"Of course it will. Don't worry, I'll keep you busy," Dean said suggestively.

She smacked his arm. "You're awful."

Dean laughed and helped her get back in the wagon. "Yep, that's me, your awful husband."

"Who writes awful letters," she said.

"About that. I had an idea. You have two sisters, right? I have two brothers. Seth needs a wife, he just doesn't know it. So does Marcus. How do you feel about playing match maker?"

Tessa considered it. "Well, it might take some work, but I'm pretty sneaky and you're pretty smart, so it could be done. I hope Seth writes better letters than you do. Oh, wait, I've never read any letters written by you, so how would I know?"

Dean captured her mouth in a kiss. "Hush up now, wife," he said when he released her.

"I will not!" she said.

Dean laughed again as he clicked to the horses. "Well, then I'm gonna have to keep kissing you to get you to shut up."

Tessa was quiet for a moment and then began talking a blue streak about anything and everything.

As they drove back to the ranch, they laughed and loved, accompanied by the westward wind.

The End

Westward Dance (Montana Mail Order Brides #2)

Madelyn O'Connor is beautiful, popular, and comfortable with her opulent life. That is until she is brutally attacked by the son of one of the wealthiest families in Pittsburgh. Her parents are ready to fight the case out in the courts, but Madelyn doesn't want any publicity about it. She wants to forget that it ever happened, but can't.

Her family grows increasingly worried about the depressive state she falls into and they try to come up with ways to help her, but nothing seems to work. Tessa feels that it would be best for Madelyn to get far away from the city and wants her to come to Montana, but Madelyn is resistant to the idea.

Seth Samuels, Tessa brother-in-law becomes injured in a cattle stampede while on a cattle drive. He's morose and anxious over the prospect of not being able to participate in drives any longer. Tessa sees two people she loves hurting and thinks that maybe they can help each other when no one else can. She appeals to Seth to help convince Madelyn to come west. Seth refuses at first, but then figures that since he can't do much else he might as well try to help.

Madelyn and Seth begin a volley of letters in which Seth entices Madelyn to come meet him. She finds him charming and eventually cannot resist his entreaties. She and Tessa convince her parents to let her make the trip. Geoffrey agrees to accompany his second eldest daughter to Montana.

When Seth and Madelyn meet they are instantly attracted to each other, but when Seth's condition becomes even more serious, Seth is prepared to face the worst. Madelyn isn't about to give up on him, however, and becomes determined to help the man with whom she's smitten to heal. Together they embark on a journey of recovery as Seth agrees to go back East to get more modern treatment. As their relationship deepens there are seemingly insurmountable obstacles that threaten to tear them apart. Can each of them compromise in order to have a future together or will their pride keep them from realizing their dreams?

******

#  Violet's mail Order Husband by Kate Whitsby
#  Chapter 1

"You know I don't approve of your mail-order husband idea, Violet." Cornell Pollard shuffled the papers on his desk and bristled his eyebrows over the top of his spectacles.

Violet Kilburn lounged her long, slender body on a divan across the room, her brown eyes gazing out the library window at nothing in particular. Rocking Horse Ranch spread out before her, but she didn't take much notice of it. Her thoughts wandered elsewhere. "Yes, I know you don't approve, Cornell. You've only told me about a thousand times." She touched her straight auburn hair, put up in curls on top of her head, but didn't adjust it.

"Whatever possessed you to get a mail-order husband, I'll never understand." Cornell laid down one paper and picked up another. "You know, I have young men in mind for you and your sisters, young men who will suit you better than perfect strangers."

"Yes, I know you have young men in mind for us," Violet returned. "That's precisely why we chose to get mail-order husbands. We want to marry men of our own choosing. Surely that's not too difficult for you to understand."

"I understand it," Cornell replied. "I just don't think it's a very wise policy. For one thing, you aren't marrying men of your own choosing. You're marrying strangers picked out of a hat. You have no notion of these men's true motive. They might be marrying you for your fortune. Did you ever consider that?"

"Marrying us for our fortune?" Violet repeated. "You mean, like the men you have picked out for us? I can guarantee _they_ would be marrying us for our fortune and nothing else. Of that I am quite certain."

Cornell's head shot up and he gaped at Violet. "What has gotten into you, child? I've never seen you so petulant before."

Violet scowled at him from her couch. "I'm not a child, Cornell. I'm twenty-three years old, and I want to get married. That's all you need to know about it."

"You've never acted like this before," Cornell exclaimed. "You've always been so sensible about things in the past. I worry you've quite taken leave of your senses."

"I haven't taken leave of my senses just because I won't do what you want me to do." Violet turned back to the window. "If I've been so sensible in the past, you should trust me not to do anything foolish now. I know what I'm doing, and there's nothing you can say to convince me otherwise."

"I only want what's best for you and your sisters, my dear." Cornell's voice took on the pleading whine of an old man with no other weapons in his arsenal. "You're my nieces and my wards, and I only want to see you happily married to men who will do you credit. I hate to think of you married to some rude cowboys with no refinement or breeding."

Violet sighed. "I understand you want what's best for us, Cornell. But there's no point in arguing about it anymore. My sisters and I will drive down to the train station in Butte to pick the men up off the train today. The deed is done, and you can't undo it by pestering me about it. So I would appreciate it if you would drop the whole subject."

"I don't know if I can do that," Cornell told her.

"You better do it," Violet snapped. "Because my sisters and I agree that we won't stand for you harassing these men once they arrive. If you can't accept the situation for what it is, then keep quiet."

Cornell stared at her. Then he shook his head and sighed down at his papers. "I don't believe I'm hearing this from you, Violet. I just don't believe it."

"Believe it." Violet compressed her lips and kept her eyes fixed on the scene outside the window.

The sunshine of early spring blazed down on the range outside. The green grass disappeared before the viewer's eyes into the purple and blue of the horizon. A gust of wind sent ripples through the grass.

A split rail fence separated the yard in front of the ranch house from the open range beyond. A herd of cattle ambled by on the other side of the fence, and two or three figures on horseback rode among them and around them. They swung whips above their heads to keep the cattle moving, and a few scruffy dogs ran around barking at the cows' heels. Even through the window, Violet heard the shouts and whistles of the cattle punchers urging the animals forward.

Violet spotted one of the riders veer off and steer toward the fence. The figure swung down from the saddle, tied the horse to the fence, and climbed over it. Then the lanky rider strode across the yard toward the house.

What was the point of wasting her breath trying to convince Cornell of anything? Heaven knew she'd spent the better part of her life in the futile attempt. He never listened to anything from anyone. He only cared for his own opinion.

She hadn't relished the idea of contravening his desires by marrying a mail-order husband. She'd spent her life trying to please him. After her parents died, Cornell took over the management of Rocking Horse Ranch as well as the guardianship of Violet and her sisters. So Violet always treated him as a third parent. She never questioned his motives or his competence at handling their affairs.

But when he decided to arrange their marriages, Violet began to question her loyalty to Cornell. When she discussed the matter with her sisters, they agreed they wouldn't allow Cornell to determine the rest of their lives.

Violet heard a door slam somewhere in another part of the house, and the next moment, the library door opened, and a young woman entered. Her blonde hair hung free around her face, and her sun-kissed cheeks glowed with the flush of activity. Violet exchanged a knowing smile with her middle sister.

#  Chapter 2

Iris Kilburn wore beaten canvas trousers, a buckskin jacket fringed up the sleeves, and rawhide chaps down her legs. She didn't notice her tattered work boots leaving dusty footprints on the carpet. She carried a crumpled felt hat in hands covered by worn leather gloves,

Cornell glared at her. "Honestly, Iris, I've asked you to change out of your work clothes before you come into the house. Look, you're getting dust all over the place."

"I didn't change my clothes because I'm going right back out," Iris replied. "I only came in to ask Violet when she wants to leave for Butte. I'll change my clothes before we leave."

"You'll change your clothes before you leave for Butte," Cornell shot back. "But you won't change your clothes to keep the house clean."

"That's right," Iris replied. "When do you want to leave, Violet?"

"As soon as you're finished working," Violet replied. "I'm waiting for you. We should leave as soon as possible. We have to get to the train station in time to pick up the men and get home before dark. That doesn't give us much time."

"Is Rose ready to go?" Iris asked.

"As far as I know, she is." Violet looked around as if searching for their youngest sister. "I haven't seen her yet this morning."

"All right." Iris headed back toward the door. "You hunt up Rose, and I'll put my horse away and change. Then we can leave."

"I suppose you're champing at the bit to get a mail-order husband, are you, Iris?" Cornell scoffed. "I didn't know you'd suddenly taken such an interest in men."

"I haven't taken a sudden interest in men," Iris replied. "Does it surprise you to learn that I've been interested in men all along? Well, I have. But I think Violet's plan for us to get mail-order husbands is a sensible one, and I'm willing to go along with it."

"And what exactly do you think is sensible about it?" Cornell asked.

"I've told you a million times, Cornell," Iris answered. "This ranch desperately needs men—and not the kind of men you'd pick for us. The ranch doesn't need any graduates of Eastern universities with specialties in politics or literature. It doesn't need the sons of railroad magnates or shipping tycoons. What this ranch needs—and badly—are cowboys. We need men who know how to work cattle and run a cattle ranch. That's what we need, and that's what we got. That's why I think it's sensible."

"This ranch doesn't need any more cowboys than it already has," Cornell argued. "We have Pete Kershaw and Wade Jackson. What else do we need? They do a good job, and the ranch is running fine. We don't need any cowboys."

"Pete is fifty, and Wade is pushing sixty," Iris shot back. "They can barely do the work now, and they'll only weaken further as they age."

"Nonsense!" Cornell spluttered. "You're exaggerating again, Iris."

"I've explained this to you so many times," Iris went on. "And you've ignored me and told me I'm a silly girl who should stick to my knitting. So I'm not going to waste my time going through it again. If you don't understand by now why we need cowboys, then you aren't going to understand it. I've given up on trying to convince you."

"I'll be the one to decide what this ranch needs," Cornell growled. "I know what goes on around this ranch a lot better than you do, Iris. You're a twenty-year-old girl with a lot of fanciful ideas that don't measure up on the ground. You would do well to leave the management of this ranch to me."

"I know your opinion perfectly well," Iris replied. "And right now, I have better things to do than argue with you about it. I'm going out to put my horse away. Then I'll change my clothes. Violet, you find Rose. By the time I finish changing, we should all be ready to go."

"Good," Violet exclaimed. "I'll get Rose. By the way, Iris, while you're out there, could you ask Pete to get the buggy hitched up for us? And we'll need three horses saddled for the men to ride home."

"I'll tell him." Iris disappeared out the door.

Cornell scowled at the door after she left. "That sister of yours will never make any man a good wife. She's too headstrong, and she doesn't understand a woman's role in the family. Look at her! She even has the temerity to wear pants! No man will put up with that. Whoever you got to be her mail-order husband will want her to stay at home and wear a dress the way a woman should."

"You don't know what Iris is made of," Violet told him. "You don't know what she does around here, or how valuable she is to this ranch."

"Oh, really?" Cornell asked. "Tell me, then. Tell me what she does, and what her value is to this ranch."

"I would, but she doesn't want me to." Violet sat up on her divan. "She's sworn me and Rose to secrecy. And that should give you some idea of how deeply you've hurt her with your comments about her clothes and her interest in men. You should be ashamed of yourself for treating her so badly."

"Ashamed of myself?" Cornell scoffed. "Treating her badly? I never did! I've never treated any of you girls badly in your lives. I've worked from dawn 'til dusk to make your lives as pleasant as possible, and this is the thanks I get for it!"

"If you really wanted to do the best for us," Violet declared. "You would listen to what we have to say. You might learn something you never thought you needed to know. Some of us know things even you don't, Cornell—especially Iris. And look, you're so pig-headed about things that poor little Rose won't even say a word to contradict you. She's that afraid of offending you."

"Pig-headed, am I?" Cornell fumed. "Since when am I pig-headed?"

"All the time," Violet shot back. "You won't listen to a word from anyone else. You won't take advice on what's going on with the ranch or what we need to do from Iris or anyone else. It's Cornell or nothing around here."

Cornell pulled his head down between his shoulders. "I should say it is Cornell or nothing around here. I'm your guardian and the executor of your estate. I'm responsible for administering the Kilburn family fortune. I would be remiss in my duty if I _did_ take advice from a little whip of a girl on how to run this ranch."

"You think all three of us are nothing more than little whips of girls," Violet remarked. "And to you, that's all we'll ever be. Well, one of these days, Cornell, you're going to wake up and realize just how wrong you are."

Cornell let his hands and his papers fall onto the desk in front of him. He stared at Violet. "What has gotten into you, Violet? You've always deferred to me in the past. You've always encouraged your sisters to follow my direction and my vision for the ranch. I don't understand what has induced you to attack me so blatantly now."

"I've always backed you before, Cornell," Violet agreed. "And now I'm not. I guess there's a first time for everything."

"But why?" Cornell asked. "Why now?"

Violet stood up and smoothed down the skirts of her dark brown dress. "I don't have time to discuss this any further right now. If you're still up when we get back from Butte, we can talk again then. But I'm telling you for the last time, Cornell, we won't discuss it in front of the men."

"But, Violet...." Cornell began.

Violet interrupted him. "And I'll tell you something else, Cornell. We won't discuss the advisability of my sisters and me marrying mail-order husbands _at all_ after the marriage service on Friday. Once we marry these men, you aren't to bring it up again—ever! Do you understand me?"

"But, Violet...." Cornell whimpered.

"I'm leaving now, Cornell. I'll see you for supper this evening. We should be back from Butte by then." Violet swept out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

#  Chapter 3

Violet leaned her back against the wall in the passage just outside the library, her heart racing and her breath coming out in gasps. She'd never stood up to Cornell before or spoken to him in such an insolent manner.

She could only pray he'd be too shocked by her defiance to retaliate. No one could hold a grudge or repay it with more vindictive cruelty than Cornell Pollard. He acted defeated now, but he held all the purse strings on the sisters' lives.

He had the legal power and the financial interest, not to mention the vengeful spite, to disinherit all three of them for marrying without his permission. Violet certainly saw him do as bad, or worse, enough times in the past.

But she didn't have time to wait until she recovered. She hurried along the passage to the foot of the stairs to fetch her youngest sister, Rose. But she spotted Iris coming the other direction from the kitchen, still wearing her work clothes.

"I'm just on my way up to change," Iris told her.

Violet laughed. "What's the matter? Don't you want your fiancé to see you in your work clothes?"

Iris threw her hair back out of her eyes. "If he can't handle this, he won't be able to handle anything else about me. But he doesn't need to find out the sordid details when he lays eyes on me for the first time at the train station, does he?"

"Are you going to save that for your wedding night?" Violet asked.

Iris tilted her head to one side. "I don't know how I'll break it to him, but I'll have to do it gently and gradually. I don't think any man could understand the work I've done around here."

"I agree with you," Violet replied. "Cornell especially would probably lose his mind if he ever found out you were running the ranch behind his back. He knows you ride out with Pete and Wade, but he doesn't know you've been overriding all his instructions and making your own instead."

"We would all be out on the street, including Cornell, if I hadn't," Iris shot back.

"I understand that," Violet assured her. "But I think you've done the right thing keeping your activities a secret. You would probably do well to keep it a secret from your new husband, too."

Iris sighed. "I know you're right. Anyway, once the men get here and we all get married, they'll probably start running the ranch their own way. Then it won't matter what I did before they came. I might stop riding out with the cowboys altogether."

Violet smiled. "Somehow I doubt that. I don't see you giving up the reins so easily."

"I might have to," Iris pointed out. "If my new husband thinks I should stay home and mind the house, I'll have to do what he says, won't I?"

"Let's just hope that doesn't happen," Violet replied. "Let's hope all three of these men understand why you had to take over the ranch and are as grateful to you for what you've done as Rose and I are. If that happens, your mail-order husband will probably be glad to have you ride out and do the same work you're doing now."

"I hope you're right," Iris murmured. "I hope you're right, for the sake of the ranch, because three cowboys aren't going to be able to run this operation by themselves. They'll need Pete and Wade working with them, and even five cowboys will be hard pressed to bring our herd to the sale yards come the end of the summer. They'll need me working with them to do the job right."

"Then we'll just have to break the news to your fiancé gently," Violet replied.

"And it isn't just him, you know," Iris continued. "The other two will have to agree to it as well. Even if my husband consents to me working the cattle, I still won't be able to do it if your husband and Rose's husband don't want me there. Some men won't ride with a woman, no matter how good she is or how much they need her help. All three will have to understand and agree."

"Then let's just hope for the best," Violet told her.

"It isn't just me that has to worry about how the men will react, either," Iris remarked. "How do you think your husband will take it when he finds out _you've_ been running the ranch behind Cornell's back?"

"That's different," Violet replied. "I haven't been doing anything any other woman would do. I've only kept the house. That's a woman's work."

"Maybe, " Iris admitted. "But you're still overriding Cornell's orders. You decide what food Rita cooks, you decide how much firewood we use to heat the house, and you manage all the other domestic affairs. You even keep the books. If Cornell ever found out, he'd be a lot angrier at you than he would be to find out I managed the livestock. He prides himself on running this place without any interference from any of us."

Violet touched her fingers to her lips. "I know. I dread the day he finds out."

"You shouldn't," Iris told her. "You should be proud of what you've done. You've done an excellent job keeping all of us fed and clothed and warmed in spite of Cornell's efforts to impoverish us."

"It's not as bad as that," Violet insisted.

"Yes, it is, and you know it," Iris retorted. "Not only have you run the ranch and managed our affairs with masterful efficiency, you've kept Cornell in the dark the whole time. You've kept him blissfully unaware of your activities, so he's happy about what he's doing. He even thinks you're his strongest ally around the ranch. I'd say that's a pretty big achievement."

"It might be an achievement," Violet replied. "But I still don't want him knowing about it. Can you imagine what he would do if he found out I kept one set of accounts for the house and another, false set just for him. I shudder to think about it. Even you don't want him finding out what you're up to."

"I sure don't," Iris admitted. "I feel exactly the same way. I only hope our husbands understand when they find out. Aren't you at all concerned about that?"

"Sure, I'm concerned about it," Violet replied. "What if they think we're liars and frauds for deceiving Cornell? But what alternative did we have? To let Cornell squander our estate? I don't think so."

"Somehow, I think the men will understand," Iris declared. "I think when they find out the truth, they will take our side against Cornell. They'll agree with us and help us to get back control of the ranch."

"Either way," Violet pointed out. "There's no sense worrying about it now. We have to get going to pick the men up from Butte. Get upstairs and change your clothes. I have to go to the kitchen to give Rita some instructions for later tonight, and I'll go upstairs and get Rose. We can talk about this more on the trip down to town."

#  Chapter 4

Iris ran up the stairs with her fringe flying, and Violet went to the kitchen to hunt up Rita, the cook. She found the kitchen empty, and after a quick glance into the scullery and the pantry, gave up the search. She had no time to look for the older woman before they left for Butte.

She checked the fire in the big iron stove and added more wood to it. She peeked into the oven and found the haunch of beef roasting for their supper. She basted it with the juice in the pan and turned it around on the rack to brown on the other side.

On the lower rack in the oven, she checked the plum cake for doneness. Then she shut the oven door and trimmed the vents on the stove. Rita wouldn't be too far away. She would come back to the kitchen from wherever she was and finish cooking supper before the sisters came back.

Satisfied with the preparations for their mail-order husbands' arrival, Violet hurried upstairs. On the upper landing, she turned down the hall to the row of bedrooms at the back of the house. She knocked at the last door at the end of the landing and pushed it open without waiting for an answer.

Rose sat at her dressing table. She gazed into the mirror but didn't see herself. She often fell into a reverie in front of the mirror, seeing nothing but the passage of images in her own mind. An outsider might consider Rose intolerably vain for the time she spent in front of her mirror, apparently admiring herself. But this was simply Rose's way of thinking about things.

Rose snapped out of her trance when Violet entered the room. "Oh, you're here. Are you and Iris ready to go?"

"I am," Violet replied. "Iris is changing her clothes. Pete is hitching up the buggy for us, and then we'll go. Are you ready?"

"Yes." Rose pushed back her stool and crossed the room to her bed, where she picked up a satin shawl from the foot rail of the iron bedstead. "Shall we go down?"

"Just a moment, Rose." Violet laid a hand on her sister's arm. "I want to talk to you about something before we go down. Here, sit down next to me." Violet pulled Rose down onto the edge of the bed.

Rose's eyes flew open. "What is it?"

"I just had a confrontation with Cornell about this whole mail-order husband business," Violet explained. "So he's a little bit emotional about it. You know he doesn't approve of our plan."

"Yes, I know," Rose replied.

"I just want to make sure you don't have any second thoughts about our plan," Violet continued. "If any of us weakens, Cornell will attack, and the whole plan will fall apart. All three of us have to be firm in our resolve to go through with our marriages."

Rose stared at her eldest sister with wide black eyes. Violet saw her sister as a delicate fawn, blinking her soft, innocent eyes at a world of danger she couldn't understand. But Rose was no innocent fawn. Even at the tender age of eighteen, she understood danger better than anyone could guess, and under her soft, gentle exterior beat a heart of iron.

Rose would never waver on their agreement to marry mail-order husbands. If anyone second-guessed the plan, it was Violet herself. Her own loyalty to Cornell and her long history of complying with his wishes made her the most vulnerable link in their armor.

"You know I won't weaken, Violet," Rose assured her. "You know I agree with you and Iris on why we need to do this. If Cornell asks me, I'll tell him so. You know you can count on me, Violet."

"I know I can." Violet patted her sister's arm, but in her heart, she shuddered. In spite of all her assurances, Violet never fully trusted Rose. Her young mind seethed with secret thoughts and schemes. She noticed every nuance of every face around her at all times. Yet she knew how to tell people exactly what they wanted to hear in order to get what she wanted.

Rose kept Cornell wrapped around her little finger. Cornell would never doubt Rose's sincerity about anything. Cornell would never accuse Rose of disloyalty or foolishness, because Rose would never tell Cornell her real plans.

When Cornell asked Rose about her agreement with Violet's mail-order husband arrangement, Rose assuaged his concerns with flattery and declarations of her own helplessness. She spun the wool over his eyes until he lost the ability to accuse her of anything more than falling under her sisters' influence.

Violet didn't like being forced to count on Rose but the three sisters had to form a united front against Cornell to bring this triple marriage to fruition. Their future and their fortune depended on it.

"I know I can count on you," Violet squeezed Rose's hand and moved back toward the door. "Now let's go down and see if the buggy's ready. Cornell is in the library, so we can go out through the kitchen, and we won't see him."

Rose smiled at Violet, and they went downstairs together. Violet glanced right and left when they reached the passage, but Rose didn't give the surroundings the slightest consideration. She followed Violet to the kitchen, where they pinned on their hats before going out into the yard.

The small yard separated the kitchen from the barn, and in the yard, they found Iris just about to get up into the driver's seat of the covered buggy. Two horses stood between the shafts, while three others waited behind the vehicle, fully saddled and bridled.

Iris's attire couldn't have differed more from her work clothes if she'd been a completely different person. She wore a gingham dress checked in beige and white. Crisp white cotton gloves covered her hands, and a feathered hat perched on top of the pile of hair on her head.

When she spotted her sisters, Iris stepped up into the driver's seat and took the reins. Violet handed Rose up into the back seat. Then she sat up front next to Iris. Iris clucked to the horses and drove the buggy away from the ranch house with the three saddled horses trotting easily behind it. The three sisters rode past the wide ranges with herds of cattle grazing, past a few other houses, barns, and outbuildings, and at last, hit the road leading out to the highway.

#  Chapter 5

Though they rode alone, the sisters kept silent until they passed underneath the big wooden sign over their front gate that read Rocking Horse Ranch. Violet didn't like to break the silence at all. She would have ridden all the way to Butte with only her thoughts for company.

But this mail-order husband plan was her idea, and the sisters should go over their strategy one last time before they met their men at the train station. But how to broach the subject? Rose and Iris approached the business from such radically different points of view. Whatever Violet said would ring amiss with one of them.

Violet sighed. "Cornell sure is in a dither about this, I can tell you."

"You shouldn't concern yourself so much with what Cornell thinks," Iris told her. "He would work himself up into a dither no matter what we did as long as we did anything other than lie down and obey him. That's the only thing he understands or cares about. You know that, Violet."

"I just don't like making him so upset," Violet replied. "He's taken good care of us these last fifteen years. We should be grateful to him for that."

"He might have taken good care of us in the last fifteen years," Iris acknowledged, "but he sure isn't taking good care of us now, not with the way he's letting the ranch go."

"I still find it hard to believe he would let it get so bad without realizing it." Violet remarked.

"Do you want to know something?" Iris replied. "I think he refuses to change his stance on the ranch because I'm the one who brought it to his attention. If I'd kept my mouth shut and let him figure out for himself that the ranch was in trouble, he would have done something about it long ago. He's letting the ranch go out of spite because I presumed to tell him how to run his business. That's what I think."

"I just can't believe that," Violet exclaimed. "It isn't like him at all."

"Would you rather believe he's grossly incompetent?" Iris asked. "Would you rather think he's befuddled on account of his age, or that he's just too short-sighted to realize the ranch is in danger?"

"In danger?" Violet repeated. "Is it really in danger? I don't think you ever put it like that before."

"I told you already," Iris replied. "The ranch can't go another year the way it is. We have five thousand head of cattle and two cowboys, and those two cowboys are aging fast. If we don't get these mail-order husbands, we won't have enough hands to bring the stock to the sale yards in the autumn."

"And then what will happen?" Violet asked.

"We don't have enough range to feed them all over the winter," Iris told her. "If we don't bring them to the sale yards, then come the spring, we'll have nothing and they'll starve to death. So you see, we need cowboys, and we need them now. Cornell refuses to hire any more hands. This marriage plan of yours is our only hope."

"Oh, heavens!" Violet gasped`. "You told us it was bad, but I didn't realize it was as bad as that. If that's the case, I'm glad we have this mail-order situation well on the way to completion. We don't have a moment to lose."

"That's what I told you," Iris maintained. "I only hope we can keep Cornell at bay long enough to marry these men."

"I hope they're the cowboys we need them to be," Violet added. "I would hate to get them home and get married to them and find out later that they can't do the job we need them to do."

Iris shot Violet a sidelong look. "I'm sure they will be. We have their letters telling us their experience and their backgrounds. It sounds to me like they are competent cowboys. At least, the one I'm marrying is."

"Mine is, too." Violet took a folded paper out of the cuff of her sleeve and opened it. "Listen to this.

' _Dear Miss Kilburn, I trust this letter finds you well. I am just getting on the train in Santa Fe, on my way to you. Who knows, but I may see you before you get this letter. I have been working on a ranch down here near Jemez Springs, and we have just finished the spring branding. How are you getting on with yours?'_

Do you hear that, Iris? How are we getting on with the spring branding?"

"We haven't done any spring branding," Iris grumbled. "I told you, we don't have enough people to do it. Who is this mystery man, anyway?"

"I told you before," Violet replied. "His name is Chuck Ahern. He's twenty-five years old, and he's from Pecos, Texas. He's been working all over the Southwest on ranches like ours. He's even worked as manager on a few of them. He's exactly what we're looking for."

"That's good," Iris declared. "What else does he have to say?"

Violet read the rest of the letter. "Your ranch sounds really nice, and I can't wait to see it. Also I look forward to meeting your sisters. They sound like nice people, and the Fort House sounds like the perfect place to stay until we can get married."

"You told him about the Fort House?" Iris asked. "What did you do that for?"

"Well, I couldn't very well agree to have him stay in the main house, could I?" Violet folded the letter and put it back inside her sleeve. "I had to explain where he and the other men would stay between their arrival on the train and the wedding on Friday. He couldn't stay in the main house with us. I'm surprised at you, Iris. Didn't you tell your groom he'd be staying in the Fort House with the others?"

"No," Iris replied. "We never discussed that. He left all the arrangements to me."

Violet laughed. "Well, what did you talk about? Don't tell me you spent all your time discussing ranch business. That would be just like you."

"We didn't spend _all_ our time discussing ranch business," Iris shot back. "But I can tell you I made sure he knew his way around a ranch. He wouldn't be much good to us if he didn't. You and Rose can get all romantic with your men if you want to. We're getting them in to work the ranch, and I'm making sure mine can, even if you won't."

"So what _do_ you know about him?" Violet asked. "What do you know, besides that he can work the ranch?"

Iris blushed. "I'm not going to read our private letters to you, if that's what you're after."

"What?" Violet exclaimed. "I just read you one of mine."

"I don't care what you did," Iris snapped. "I never asked you to read the letter. You did that off your own bat. My letters with Mick McAllister are my private business. I'm not sharing them with you or anyone else. So there!"

"Well, at least tell us something about him," Violet told her. "We have to know something about who we're meeting at the station."

"He's a cowboy," Iris replied. "What more do you want to know? He's from Yuma, Arizona. He has a twin brother somewhere in Georgia, and he's a bronc buster in the rodeo. He's worked on cattle ranches and cattle drives since he was fourteen years old, and he's twenty-three years old. What more do you want to know? No, wait. Don't ask that, because I don't know anymore."

"Well, there isn't much there to let us know how he'll react to you running the ranch," Violet observed. "He could be a real redneck, for all you know."

"I'll be married to him, one way or the other," Iris shot back. "It's a little bit late to question him about his attitude toward women."

"Didn't you ask him anything about it in your letter?" Violet asked.

"Of course not!" Iris exclaimed. "I didn't want to frighten him off marrying me. Anyway, if he objects to me working the ranch, I'll just have to stop. The only reason I began punching cattle in the first place is because we had no cowboys to do the job. Once we marry these men, there will be no reason for me to do it anymore."

"But didn't you tell me before," Violet pointed out. "That they'll need you on the cattle drive at the end of the season?"

"They'll need someone," Iris corrected her. "If they don't want to take me, they might decide to hire some other men instead. By that time, we'll be able to afford them, because when the cattle drive ends, we'll have the money from the sales to pay them. Once we have a decent cattle drive, the ranch will be making a profit again, and we won't have to worry about the odd expense here and there."

"I sure hope you're right about all this," Violet exclaimed. "All our futures are riding on your opinion of what's best for the ranch."

"I _am_ right about this," Iris declared. "I'll just be glad when these men get here and take over. Everything will be all right once that happens."

"What about you, Rose?" Violet asked. "What do you know about your groom?"

"His name is Jacob Hamilton," Rose replied. "I know he's been working on ranches down in Texas. He traveled up here from San Antonio. But I don't know much else about him."

"Don't you know how old he is?" Violet asked.

"No, I don't," Rose admitted.

"But he could be old," Violet pointed out. "He could be forty or fifty. Didn't you at least ask him?"

"No, I didn't," Rose replied.

#  Chapter 6

Something in Rose's tone struck Violet as odd, and she glanced over her shoulder at her youngest sister. Instead of facing forward, listening to their conversation with keen attention, Rose stared off at the countryside outside the buggy. The same dreamy expression haunted her eyes.

Violet shuddered. She expected Rose to eavesdrop on their conversation and inform Cornell about their complaints. That would be just like Rose to play both sides of the fence. Instead, Rose gazed at the scenery with her head in the clouds, seeing nothing in front of her. Didn't she care enough to listen to her sisters' conversation? Didn't she care enough about the future of the ranch to form an opinion about its management?

Violet barely discussed the merits of mail-order husbands with Rose to win her consent to the plan. Rose barely listened to her arguments at all. She flatly agreed to everything Violet suggested, right down to the methods they should employ to deal with Cornell. Her compliance irked Violet more than anything. She preferred Iris's rebelliousness to Rose's bland, empty submission.

Except it wasn't submission, was it? Rose might say 'yes' to everything, but she kept her true feelings and opinions secret. The comforting thing about Iris was, no matter how forcefully she disagreed with you, you always knew exactly where she stood and what she thought. She never minced her words keeping anything to herself. When you dealt with Iris, you got one hundred percent Iris or nothing at all. Violet never doubted Iris for a minute.

No matter what Rose said, even when she agreed with you, you always doubted her. You never knew what she thought or felt or heard or believed because regardless of what she said, she always kept something back. She smiled sweetly, and agreed to everything anyone asked of her gently and easily, so you hated yourself for doubting her. You couldn't question her. She only smiled more sweetly than ever and filled your head full of butterflies and bunny rabbits.

Like now, for instance. Rose said she didn't ask Jacob Hamilton his age, but Violet couldn't question her about anything else she knew about her prospective groom. Rose would only find a polite way of making Violet feel guilty for prying into her personal business.

Violet went back to her solid, reassuring conversation with Iris. "Anyway, we'll put all three of them in the Fort House. That will keep them out of Cornell's hair until Friday. The less the three of them have to do with him, the better."

"And what comes after Friday?" Iris asked.

Violet started. "What do you mean?"

"Where will all of us live after the wedding on Friday?" Iris asked. "Don't tell me all three of our couples will live in the main house. I, for one, won't think of it. Once I'm married, I'm going to live somewhere else."

"Where will you go?" Violet asked.

"I don't know," Iris replied. "But I won't live with the rest of you in the main house, that's for certain. I've lived with you and Rose all my life, and once I get married, I'm living somewhere else."

"But where?" Violet asked.

"I don't know," Iris repeated. "Maybe Mick and I can go live in the Fort House. If you and Chuck and Rose and Jacob stay in the main house together, the Fort House will be free."

Violet nearly jumped out of her skin when Rose chimed in from the back seat. "I don't want to live with anyone else in the main house, either." So she _was_ listening. A chill raced down Violet's back. What else had Rose heard that she never let on about?

"Well, that isn't going to work, is it?" Violet complained. "There aren't three separate houses. We can't all just go off and live alone with our new husbands."

"I am," Iris declared. "I don't care what anyone says. We're living alone. Cornell is around the main house all day, every day. And whichever of you stays there will be there, too. I need somewhere I can go to get away from the main house, and once we're married, Mick and I will want privacy. We'll take the Fort House. You and Rose can fight over the main house."

"There's the Bird House," Rose put in. "But Cornell lives there."

"But once we get married," Iris pointed out, "Cornell won't be our guardian and our executor anymore. Our fortunes will pass to our husbands. Maybe Cornell won't live at the Bird House anymore."

"I can't believe this!" Violet gasped. "You can't be thinking of turning Cornell out, not after he's lived at the Bird House and shared our lives all these years."

"Everything has to come to an end," Rose pointed out. "If he isn't our guardian and our executor anymore, he has no business at the ranch or in the Bird House. His duty is discharged."

"Discharged!" Violet repeated. "You can't be serious! He's like a parent to us."

"He might be like a parent to you," Iris shot back. "But to me, he's an obstacle. We're getting rid of that obstacle by getting married. Once all three of us are married and our husbands are running the ranch, Cornell is better off somewhere else. He can only cause trouble around the ranch."

"I can't believe you would be so heartless, Iris," Violet exclaimed.

"And I can't believe," Iris replied. "That Cornell would let the ranch—which, by the way, is our inheritance, and not his property at all, although he certainly acts like it is his—that he would let it fall into ruin through his own stubborn idiocy. If we have to get mail-order husbands to save the ranch from his mismanagement, then he should be sent packing with extreme prejudice."

Violet was just about to protest again when Rose piped up. "And then Jacob and I could live at the Bird House. Violet, you and Chuck can live in the main house."

******

Violet couldn't believe what she was hearing. Iris and Rose weren't conspiring to get rid of Cornell, were they? They couldn't! They wouldn't! They daren't! Or was it only Violet who daren't make a move against Cornell?

And what would their new husbands say about Cornell? They certainly wouldn't want Cornell around, not after they got their hands on the fabulous Kilburn family fortune. How much did the three men know about their future wives' wealth? Violet dared not ask her sisters how much they revealed to their fiancés in their letters. Nor did she tell them what she wrote to Chuck Ahern about their family fortunes.

One thing was sure, once the three men married the sisters, they couldn't control the estate as completely as Cornell did. A single man could do as he pleased with the funds and property at his disposal, and his wards could do nothing to stop him. Three men, joined for life to the three heiresses, would at least have to work together to make the ranch into a thriving, profitable enterprise again. None of them would possess a controlling share over any of the others.

Violet put the idea of Cornell's future as far out of her mind as she could. Was that the reason Cornell protested so loudly against these mail-order marriages? Then again, he suggested other potential grooms for the sisters all the time. He wanted them to get married—only to men of his own choosing. Their fortunes would pass out of his hands, regardless of who they married.

Maybe Cornell just tried to hide his uncertainty under a bluster of wounded propriety. Maybe he used his position as their guardian to protest their marriages to hide the fact that he didn't want to be turned out of house and home. No one would want that.

Violet rode the rest of the journey to Butte in silence, and her sisters obliged her. The last thing in the world she wanted to hear was her sisters plotting to dump Cornell. Anyway, she had other things to think about to take her mind off it.

The wedding celebration on Friday, for instance. Violet told Rita, the ranch cook, what foods to prepare and what cake to bake for the luncheon to follow the wedding service. She went to great pains to match her sisters' wedding dresses with the decorations she planned for the house. She would talk to Iris about giving Pete and Wade the day off work.

Before she knew it, Violet saw the town of Butte in the distance. It wasn't much to look at. Most Montana towns barely distinguished themselves from the scrubby rangeland from whence they sprang. You could barely see them until you practically ran into the wall of the first building. The weathered boards took on the same desolate grayish-tan color as everything else in this territory.

Only the mountains struck a breath-taking contrast. You couldn't turn around without catching your breath at their imposing grandeur. They thrust their magnetic presence into your awareness at every hour of the day. You couldn't get away from them. You kept seeing them even when you closed your eyes.

If Butte wasn't much to look at, it was even less to experience. As much as Violet looked forward to getting off the ranch and into town, Butte disappointed. The haberdashers' shop carried barely enough thread and other sewing notions to make a complete dress, and the dry goods store often ran out of essential staples like flour and salt.

No amount of complaints to any shopkeeper in town improved the service. They just didn't care. They knew very well they provided the only service of their kind anywhere in the territory. You could shop with them or go without, and they knew it.

The only businesses in town with enough competition to provide decent variety were the saloons. Butte had four—one in the hotel, one in the whorehouse, one at the billiard hall, and one at the distillery on the road out of town. All four stayed busy day and night, what with cowboys and railroad men and drifters and rich cattlemen coming into town for a bit of diversion. The saloons did a roaring trade in mayhem, gun fights, broken glass, and replacement tables and chairs from the local carpenters.

Violet knew all about the saloons from driving past them on trips to town. You couldn't set foot in Butte without seeing or hearing some brawl or drunken sing-a-long coming from one of them. The Kilburn sisters drove past them without looking right or left.

This time, Iris had a different idea. Because they were going to the train station and not into the town itself, Iris turned off around the barn and stables behind the hotel. She circumvented the town completely and drove right up to the station without passing a single saloon. Iris reined the horses in front of the station, but the train wasn't there anymore.

Violet patted Iris on the arm. "Well done. We'll have to remember that when we come into town next time." She glanced at the station. "It looks like we missed the train."

The three sisters alighted from the buggy. A few stray passengers milled around the station porch. "The three of them must have gotten off here. Didn't we all tell them we'd be here to pick them up? Let's ask around. Maybe someone knows where they are."

"But," Violet pointed out. "They aren't likely to know each other. They aren't likely to be together, wherever they are."

"We can only ask," Iris replied. "I'm sure we'll find them somewhere." She turned to the nearest man, who leaned against the station door, watching the three women and listening to their conversation. "Excuse me. We're looking for some people who got off the train from Salt Lake City."

The man cocked his head. "Well, that's just about all the people you see here. Every one of us got off the train an hour and a half ago. Don't you see the people you're looking for?"

Iris flushed, and Violet stepped in. "The men we're meeting are strangers to us. I mean, we don't exactly know what they look like. One of them is named Chuck Ahern, and one of them is named Mick McAllister, and the other is Jacob Hamilton."

"Well, then, you're in luck," the man returned. "I'm Chuck Ahern."

#  Chapter 7

"Oh!" The blood rushed to Violet's cheeks. For a moment, she floundered in confusion. Then she burst out laughing. Chuck stared at her as if she'd lost her senses. Finally she composed herself enough to extend her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. Ahern. I'm Violet Kilburn."

"Oh!" Chuck went beet red, opened his mouth and closed it again, glanced around, and opened his mouth again. Finally, he burst out laughing, too. He took her hand. "Call me Chuck. If you call me Mr. Ahern, I probably won't know who you're talking about."

He and Violet shook hands, still laughing at themselves. When they eventually let go of one another's hands, they stepped back and regarded each other. Chuck stood as tall as Violet, and his square shoulders filled out his clean cotton shirt. His wore a gun belt around the hips of his denim pants, and the unmistakable band of spur straps marked the tops of his boots. A thick mustache covered his upper lip, but the rest of his face was clean-shaven and smooth.

His light brown eyes cut through Violet's embarrassment. She didn't look around to see if Iris evaluated Chuck the same way she had, but she knew this man was exactly what Rocking Horse Ranch needed. Everything about him screamed cowboy.

"Did you have a pleasant journey?" Violet asked.

"Good enough," Chuck replied. "It's pretty boring, you know, but you can't complain. The only other way to travel is to ride a horse, and I wouldn't want to do that all the way up here from Santa Fe."

"You must be tired." Violet wrenched her eyes away from him and peered around at her sisters. "We'll find the others and get you back to the ranch. As I told you, we have a spare house you men will stay in until the wedding service on Friday. You can rest up there and get your bearings. I hope that arrangement still suits you."

"Suits me fine," Chuck replied. "I won't be sorry to stop traveling for a while."

"Well, then, we'll just find the others...." Violet trailed off. She and her sisters glanced around at the other passengers on the platform.

How should they go about finding the other two men? Nothing remained but to ask the nearest person, as they did with Chuck, and hope for luck.

But Chuck cut them off. "Mick McAllister's inside the station, talking to the station master." The three sisters jumped with surprise. "And Jake Hamilton is over there, in the hotel saloon."

"How do you know?" Iris cried. "We didn't think you three knew each other."

"We didn't," Chuck told her. "We got talkin' on the train. You know how it is. We're all in the same business of punchin' cattle, so you fall in with others like you. There's nothin' else to do on the train for days at a time. That, and after a while, you begin to notice which people are going the same direction as you. Anyway, we got talkin', and we figured it out. Took a while, but we figured it out."

"Well, that makes it easier for us, doesn't it?" Violet remarked. "Thank you very much....Chuck." She broke into another fit of giggling. His name sounded so strange in her mouth. Even after months of corresponding with him by mail, saying his name out loud gave her a queer little tingle. "Now we won't have to go hunting for them."

The noise of a scuffle drew their attention toward the station. The door flew open, and two men locked in a tight embrace exploded out of the station and bowled over into the dirt at their feet. As soon as they hit the ground, they fell into a mighty struggle to drive each other to the ground. Violet cried out in horror at the conflict, but Chuck and the other bystanders simply watched the two men fighting in the dirt.

Just when one man got the better of the other, the man on the bottom rallied and flipped his opponent over to regain the upper hand. They reversed positions two or three times before the larger of the two fought his way onto the top of the other. He delivered a decisive blow to his rival's midsection, which knocked the wind out of him, and then another to the side of his jaw. This last blow dazed the other man enough to give the victor time to consolidate his advantage by sitting on top of his opponent.

He straddled his fallen enemy on his knees and punched him repeatedly in the face. Sweat and saliva flew from both men's faces, and before very long, the man on the bottom lay motionless with blood leaking out of his nose.

The victor stopped hitting his victim and stared at his senseless form, panting and sweating. At last, he dragged himself to his feet and loomed over the body, his fists still clenched at his sides. He glared around him at the onlookers, his teeth bared between curled lips. "He stole my wallet," he growled.

So saying, he bent down and ransacked the fallen man's pockets until he pulled out a folded leather wallet. He waved it at the spectators and stuffed it into his own trouser pocket.

Most of the people standing around the train station turned back to their own business then, and the man relaxed his posture somewhat. Violet stared in horror at the ogre, but her horror reached a peak of dismay when Chuck announced, "This is Mick McAllister."

Now that he stood upright in front of them, Violet saw him clearly for the first time. She saw a very tall, sturdy man with sharp, angular features and a sun-bleached Stetson hat over his close-cut blonde hair. He walked away from his victim and toward the Kilburn sisters. His clear blue eyes surveyed the platform to the right and to the left with the quick superiority of command before he turned toward Chuck Ahern.

One more glance showed him who the women were. "These them?" he asked Chuck. Without waiting for a reply, he stuck out his hand to Violet. "I'm Mick McAllister."

Violet shook off her shock and returned his handshake. Sweat squeezed out between her fingers when Mick gripped her hand. "I'm Violet Kilburn. This," she nodded toward her sister "This is Iris."

Iris extended her gloved hand to Mick. "Good afternoon." Mick shook her hand with a curt nod, but both he and Iris blushed and stole shy peeks at each other. Iris couldn't approve of this street-brawling brute as her mail-order cowboy, could she?

Violet took charge. "Now if we can find Mr. Hamilton, we can get on our way. Hopefully we can get home before dark."

"Why don't you ladies walk over to the hotel and find him?" Chuck suggested. "Mick and me will load our luggage onto your...is this your buggy?"

"Yes," Violet replied. "You can put everything on the rack in the back. And there will be room next to Rose in the back seat, too. Are you men happy to ride back to the ranch? It's a long way but there just isn't room in the buggy for all of us."

"That'll be fine with me," Chuck told her.

"Me, too," Mick chimed in. "It'll be good to get back in the saddle after being on the train all this time." He glanced back at Iris, and she blushed and smiled again.

"Good, then," Violet declared. "We'll head over to the hotel and bring Jacob back. We'll meet back here at the buggy."

The sisters started across the street toward the hotel, and Violet fell in step next to Rose. "Are you all right, darling? You're not too concerned about meeting your groom, are you?"

"I'm not concerned at all," Rose replied. "Why would I be concerned?"

"I just thought you might think the worst," Violet explained. "When they told us he was over in the hotel saloon. I thought you might worry that he was...." Violet faltered.

"Was what?" Rose asked.

Rose's big limpid eyes threw Violet into confusion, and she lost the sense of what she wanted to say. She flapped her hand. "Oh, I don't know. He might be drinking or carousing or gambling. You know!"

"I don't think there's much likelihood of that," Rose replied.

"I just didn't want you to be worried," Violet repeated. "After all, he could be fighting in there like...." Violet stopped herself in time.

"You mean, like Mick?" Rose asked. "No, I'm not worried."

Violet let the matter drop, but she couldn't banish her first glimpse of Mick McAllister from her mind.

The sisters walked around the corner to the hotel and peeked into the saloon. About ten men occupied the big room, some leaning against the bar, some playing billiards, and some just chatting with each other. All but two wore the typical uniform of the Western cowboy, with heavy canvas pants, wide-brimmed hats, and boots. Nothing distinguished one from another enough to determine which man they sought.

#  Chapter 8

Violet hesitated at the swinging doors. "What do you want to do?"

"We'll just have to go in and find him," Rose declared.

"Go in....in _there_?" Violet shuddered. "I don't think I want to do that."

"How else are we going to find him?" Rose asked.

"I'll go in with you," Iris told Rose.

"You're not going in _there_ , are you?" Violet gasped.

"Why not?" Iris looked into the saloon over the tops of the doors. "What's wrong?"

"The place is full of men," Violet explained. "There could be trouble."

"What's wrong?" Iris asked again. "They're only cowboys. They won't hurt us. Come on, Rose." The two younger sisters pushed the doors aside and strode inside.

Violet hesitated just a moment longer, and then she hurried after her sisters.

Rose and Iris walked up to the bar. Several of the men eyed them as they passed, and when they arrived at the front of the room, the bartender laughed out loud. "What can I do for you ladies?"

"We're looking for a man who just got off the train from Salt Lake City," Rose told him. "We were told he was here. His name is Jacob Hamilton."

"Don't know him," the bartender shot back. "Can't help ya."

"I'm Jacob Hamilton." The voice came from behind them, but it sounded soft and timid.

The sisters turned around, and only a mighty effort prevented Violet from gasping in surprise at what she saw.

The man facing them was small and slight, almost as small as Rose herself. Far from the hard-wearing work clothes the cowboys wore, Jacob Hamilton wore a tailored black suit, snakeskin boots, and a dark red velvet waistcoat under his jacket. His brand-new black velvet hat covered dark hair combed back over his ears and curling up at the back of his neck. His black mustache swept away from his lips and pointed out toward the side of his face.

His black eyes twinkled across the faces of the sisters until they finally rested on Rose. He smiled at her. "You can call me Jake. Everyone does."

Rose blinked her wide eyes and smiled back. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I hope the journey wasn't too trying."

"Not at all," Jake replied. "I enjoy travel. It's good to see other parts of the country."

He and Rose kept smiling at each other as Violet struggled to hide her distress. This wasn't the cowboy they hoped for. Jake Hamilton looked more like a professional gambler or bank employee. He didn't even look old enough to be in this saloon. He looked all of fifteen at the most. Why, he didn't even wear a gun belt! What good would this tiny, innocent dandy be to them on the ranch?

Violet exchanged looks with Iris but from the very first moment, Rose and Jake only had eyes for each other. They took no notice at all when Violet said, "Shall we get back to the buggy and head home? Jake, I hope you don't mind riding a horse with the others. There's only room for four in the buggy."

Jake didn't take his eyes off Rose's face. "In that case, I'll ride next to Rose."

Violet spun into a flurry of confusion. She couldn't stop her mouth from working of its own accord. "Oh, that's just fine! I didn't think of that, but it makes so much sense. I'm sure the others won't mind."

"I'm sure they won't," Jake replied.

Jake waved his hand toward the door to usher the sisters out of the saloon, but a gnarled, callused hand clapped him on the back and a harsh male voice bellowed from behind him, "Hey, Mister Fancy Pants, I'm talkin' to you!"

Jake turned around and faced an enormous man nearly twice his size. Jake's head barely reached as high as the big man's chest. The two looked comical standing next to each other. Jake's crisp clean suit made a striking contrast with the other man's dusty worn work clothes. Even standing at a distance from him, Violet noticed the bulging knuckles on the big man's hands and the polished leather of his gun belt. His hair stuck out in tufts around his hat, and black dirt encrusted his fingernails.

He had to stoop to get into Jake's face. "I was talkin' to you, Mister. Don't you turn your back on me!"

"I'm engaged with these ladies here, if you don't mind," Jake returned. "We're just about to leave, so if you'll excuse me, I'll bid you good day." He touched the brim of his hat and moved to turn away again.

"I don't think so," the big man thundered. "I was in the middle of telling you I could lick you any day of the week for insulting my brother over there."

Jake's eyes flashed and he shifted his shoulders inside his jacket. "You were in the middle of telling me that, but you can't lick me and I have more important business to attend to. So unless you have some idea of stopping me, I'll go now." He nodded once and looked away toward the door.

The big man jabbed Jake in the chest with his thick sausage of a finger. "You're not goin' anywhere until I've had my say, Mister. If you don't apologize to my brother over there, you'll answer to me and suffer the consequences."

Jake narrowed his eyes. "I won't apologize to him or to you or to anyone, other than these ladies here for your wretched manners. What do you propose to do to me? You think you can lick a man half your weight? You're a bully and a coward, but I invite you to try. You think you can beat me in a gun fight? As you can see, I'm unarmed. But if you wait until I get my guns strapped on, they'll be hauling your rotten carcass to the graveyard in a quarter of an hour. Now which would you prefer?"

The giant stooped even lower, and the puffs of breath from his ragged mouth ruffled the hair on the side of Jake's face. "You'll be sorry for this, you fancy-pants...."

He didn't finish his sentence. With one swift movement, Jake brought his fist up hard under the large man's chin. His teeth clacked together and his head whipped back on his neck. His eyes fluttered in his skull, and he crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust.

The other patrons of the saloon turned around to see the commotion, but it ended as soon as it started. Jake studied the remains of his opponent at his feet, dusted off his hands, and turned back to the Kilburn sisters. "Ladies?" He waved toward the door again.

Violet whirled away to hide her embarrassment. So Jake Hamilton wasn't innocent after all. He was as much of a brute as Mick McAllister. Was her own mail-order husband the only one of the three worth taking home?

What if Cornell was right? What if this whole enterprise exploded in their faces and they lived to regret getting these men to come live on the ranch? After Friday, they'd be married to these men, two of whom appeared to be violent scoundrels. In addition to being violent, Jake could be anything from a drunken dissipate or a dangerous villain. Chuck Ahern was the only one of the three Violet wanted around the ranch.

Iris fell in at her side on the way back to the train station, and Rose and Jake walked after them, side by side. Violet kept her ear tuned to hear their conversation but to her amazement, they didn't speak to each other at all. Once they reached the street outside, she stole a glance over her shoulder and found them still gazing into one another's eyes, but without speaking. The same shy smile played across both their faces.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Violet recognized even then a fundamental similarity between Rose and Jake. Violet never met anyone quite like Rose before she met Jake Hamilton. When they gazed into each other's faces, they seemed to Violet almost as though they were looking at mirror images of themselves. Yet they didn't fall into effortless and intimate conversation with each other. Violet couldn't understand them at all.

When they returned to the buggy, they found Chuck and Mick already mounted on two of the horses the sisters brought and three trunks stacked on the rack in back of the buggy. Jake and Rose settled into the back seat, and Violet and Iris got into their places in front.

#  Chapter 9

Mick raised an eyebrow when Iris took the reins. "Would you like one of us to drive you home?"

"I can drive." Iris adjusted the reins in her hands. Then she cracked a smile. "Who do you think drove here to get you?"

"I just thought you might like one of us to drive," Mick muttered.

"Besides," Iris went on. "If you drive, Jake will have to ride, and I wouldn't want to disturb the lovebirds."

"I guess not." Mick wheeled his horse away. Iris clucked to the horses, and the buggy rolled up the street and out of Butte.

Chuck and Mick rode alongside.

"You mentioned you have an extra house you plan to put us in," Chuck began. "Isn't anyone living in it?"

"We call it the Fort House," Violet told him. "It belonged to my father's brother. They built the ranch when they were young, and my uncle built the house when he married. But his wife died soon after, and my uncle abandoned the house. We've used it as a guest house ever since."

"So the three of us will stay there when we get to the ranch," Mick asked. "Where will we live after we get married?"

"Funny you should ask," Violet answered. "We were just discussing that very topic on the way down to Butte. You see, the ranch has three houses, the Fort House, the main house, where we live now, and what we call the Bird House, which is another small guest cottage."

"That sounds perfect," Chuck replied. "So we can each have our own house."

Violet flushed. "It would be. There's only one problem. Our guardian, the executor of our estate, lives in the Bird House at present."

"You mentioned him in your letter," Chuck told her. "Pollard, I think you said his name was."

"That's right," Violet replied. "Cornell Pollard. And he's not just our guardian and our executor, he's our great uncle on my father's side, so he's family. He's lived in the Bird House ever since our parents died and he became our guardian."

"But after you get married," Chuck pointed out. "He won't be your guardian anymore. Then what will happen?"

"That's just what we were discussing," Violet replied.

"I think," Iris put in. "That Cornell should find another place to live. If he isn't acting as our guardian and executor anymore, we won't have any use for him around the ranch anymore. He'll only get in the way."

"That sounds about right to me," Mick added.

"I can't believe you would be so unkind to a man who's dedicated so many years to our well-being," Violet exclaimed. "We can't just turn him out into the street like an unwanted dog. He's earned the right to a comfortable home."

"If you ask me," Iris declared. "I think he's earned the right to be turned out on account of the way he's run the ranch into the ground these last couple of years." She turned to Mick, who rode at her side. "You'll be shocked when you see the state of the place. We've been running bare bones for years, and the place is on the ragged edge of collapse. And all because he wouldn't listen to me when I told him something had to be done about it."

"You told him?" Mick's eyebrows went up again.

The color mounted into Iris's cheeks, and she brought her eyes back to her driving. "That's right. You might think it's a little out of the ordinary for a woman to take an interest in the workings of a cattle ranch but it's our legacy. Do you understand? Once I realized how desperate the situation was, I had no choice but to get involved, to salvage it in any way I could."

"I understand," Mick replied.

"You'll see when you get there," Iris continued. "You'll see why I had to do something—anything. And everything I've tried to do, Cornell has worked against me. I almost think he's gone out of his way to thwart me, just to drive the ranch into the ground."

"But why would he do that?" Violet broke in. "He has no reason to do it. He has financial control of the whole enterprise. It's to his advantage to make it a thriving concern."

"Not if we get married, he doesn't," Iris shot back. "He knew all along that, one day, we would grow up and control of the ranch would pass out of his hands. Once that happened, he no longer had any reason to make the ranch work."

"But he has nothing to gain by ruining the ranch," Violet protested.

"There is one thing he could gain by it," Iris replied. "He could use the ranch to prevent us from getting married. He probably counted on the fact that, as women, we wouldn't be able to run the ranch ourselves. He probably wanted to put himself in a position where we would have to rely on him to run our enterprise for us."

"I can't understand why you would hold such a vindictive opinion of Cornell," Violet exclaimed.

Iris turned to Mick. "You see? We've had this conversation morning, noon, and night for months, and we never come to any agreement about it. But you'll see when you get there. You'll see why we had to get you men out there to help us. We'd lose our entire legacy if we didn't."

#  Chapter 10

"This Cornell sounds like a scoundrel," Mick growled.

"He is," Iris replied.

"He is not!" Violet cried. "He's our closest relative and our guardian. I refuse to listen to anyone saying a bad word against him."

"You tell her, Chuck," Iris called across the buggy. "You're the only one who can talk sense into her."

"But didn't you mention," Chuck replied. "That this mail-order marriage was your idea? It sounds like you're going along with Iris on this."

"It _was_ her idea," Iris told him. "When I told her how the ranch was suffering from lack of cowboys, she came up with the plan that we should marry some. You would all gain a share in the operation through marriage to the three of us."

"It sounds like a pretty good deal to me," Mick replied.

"Of course it wasn't all about business, you understand," Iris went on. "Just about anyone we married would be enticed by a share of the ranch. So we might as well marry cowboys who could help us manage it properly, if you see what I mean."

"Oh, I understand your point," Mick replied. "I think it makes good sense. And I'm happy to be on board. If we do decide to give this Cornell rascal the boot, I'll be right there to lend a hand."

"No one is giving Cornell the boot!" Violet yelled. "And that's final!"

"You have to admit, it might come to that," Chuck put in.

"Over my dead body!" Violet snapped. "He's already distraught about us getting mail-order husbands—and cowboys, too. He wanted us to marry up, you know, into wealthy families with prosperous, educated sons. We've dashed all his hopes to the ground by getting you men out here. The least we can do is smooth the way for him by leaving him comfortably situated in the Bird House until he dies—which won't be too much longer, I imagine."

"He could make things very difficult for us in the meantime," Iris pointed out. "He'll make a point of sticking his nose into everything, meddling in all our affairs, and arguing with us over every business decision, even when the business no longer concerns him. You know perfectly well he will, Violet. You're only defending him because you feel guilty about flouting his wishes. You've never done it before, and you feel bad for doing it now."

Violet crossed her arms over her chest. "I do not!"

"But that still leaves the question," Chuck added. "Where are we all going to live?"

"Mick and I will take the Fort House," Iris declared. "I've already told Violet and Rose this, and I'm putting my foot down on it. If Violet absolutely refuses to send Cornell packing, then you and Rose can wrestle over the main house. I don't care. I've told you what I think we should do. If you won't do it, I'm not going to put myself out to accommodate Cornell."

"Good for you, Iris," Mick exclaimed. "That's my kind of thinking."

Violet snuck a glance over her shoulder and saw Rose and Jake still staring at each other in silence. Neither made any move to join the conversation. If anyone but Rose sat in that back seat, Violet would have invited her into the discussion on Cornell and the Bird House. After all, hadn't Rose mentioned the Bird House on the way to town? Come to think of it, Rose was the first one to mention getting rid of Cornell so she and Jake could live in the Bird House.

Violet jerked around again and directed her eyes toward the road ahead of them. In the distance, the sign over the entrance gate to Rocking Horse Ranch peeked up between two hummocks of land. It gave her the perfect opportunity to change the subject. "There it is. Rocking Horse Ranch. You can just see the front gate from here."

The two riders gazed out over the range stretching toward the far horizon. "Nice piece of country you have here," Mick remarked. "How much land do you have?"

"We have fifteen thousand acres of our own," Iris told him. "Plus we have the use of another ten thousand acres of unclaimed land adjacent to our southern boundary."

Mick whistled through his teeth. "That's a good parcel. And how much stock?"

"Five thousand head," Iris replied. "About a third of that should go to the sale yards at the end of the summer. We haven't had a decent cattle drive in a few years, what with being so short-handed. We should cut our numbers and build up again next year with higher quality stock."

Mick squinted at her out of the corner of his eye. "You really know your stuff, don't you? I never heard that kinda talk comin' outta the mouth of a woman before."

Violet laughed. "That's our Iris. She gets into everything that doesn't concern her. Do you know, Mick, she even orders the cowboys around? Pete Kershaw and Wade Jackson—they're our ranch hands—they take all their orders from Iris."

"Well, someone has to take charge of the place," Iris exclaimed. "If I didn't go out and tell them what to do, Pete and Wade would have left us long since. You order Rita around in the house, Violet. This is no different."

"Except you're a woman telling two men what to do," Violet shot back. "And both of those men are old enough to be your father. And it's cattle ranching, too! That's men's business."

"Anything having to do with my inheritance is my business," Iris declared. "And when there are no men around to run the ranch the way it should be run, I have no choice but to step in and run it." She glanced sidelong at Mick. "Once you men take over and we're married, if you don't want me getting mixed up in ranch business anymore, I won't."

"Don't worry about that," Mick replied. "As long as there's work to do, I'm sure we'll be happy for another pair of willing hands to do it. But just wait a little while. Once we're married, you might decide you don't want to run the ranch anymore. You might decide you like it better in the house doing women's things."

"Not likely!" Violet scoffed.

But when she saw Iris's embarrassment, Violet regretted joking at her expense. Iris bore the sole credit for keeping the ranch alive this long. She should apologize for her tactless remarks, especially in front of Iris's future husband, but she never got the chance. The buggy rolled under the sign at the front gate and purred up the road toward the house.

"There's the house." Iris pointed out the main house. "We'll drive you over to the Fort House and drop you off. What time is it, Violet?"

Violet fished around in her hand bag for a watch, but before she found it, Jake Hamilton's smooth voice answered from the back seat. "It's quarter to five."

Violet jumped in her seat and looked over her shoulder just in time to see Jake tucking a gold pocket watch into the breast pocket of his waist coat. He didn't acknowledge her, but went back to looking at Rose.

"Then we have a little time left," Iris replied. "Once you get settled in, why don't the three of you come on down to the main house for a little supper. We can have a meal together and get a little bit better acquainted."

"Sounds like a great idea," Chuck answered. "I'm starving."

"Me, too," Mick agreed. "And will Cornell be joining us?"

"I doubt it," Iris replied. "He usually has supper with us, but I think he'll make himself scarce tonight."

"Good for him," Mick muttered.

#  Chapter 11

Iris drove the buggy past the main house, around the barn, and up a small hill on the other side. She pulled to a halt in front of a log cabin perched on top of the hill. "This is the Fort House," she told them.

Mick surveyed the house. "Why do you call it that?"

"I really don't know, to tell you the truth." She studied the plain little house. "My uncle named it that when he built it, and we've called it that ever since. I like to think he named it that because it looks like the old log stockades the Army built for their forts when the first settlers moved into the country. But that's just a guess. I really don't know."

Mick and Chuck dismounted in front of the high porch that ran along the front of the house. Mick grabbed the three trunks from the rack on the back of the buggy and threw them, one after the other, onto the porch with no more difficulty than if he were tossing feather pillows. He also unloaded several longer cases. Violet assumed they contained long guns—rifles and shotguns. Pete and Wade kept their guns in cases like that.

Mick tied the two saddle horses to the back of the buggy.

"Would you like us to show you around inside?" Violet asked.

Chuck leaned against the porch. "You don't have to do that. I'm sure you have better things to do. We can sort ourselves out. I'm just glad to find a place to stop and take a breath for a while. I'm in no hurry to get indoors just now."

Jake made no move to get out of the buggy. He and Rose continued their silent communion in the back seat, oblivious to everything around them. But as if by some silent cue, he shifted his weight and stepped down from the seat. "I guess I'll have a look around inside."

Rose jumped down after him. She didn't say anything, but Jake took her by the hand and the two mounted the steps to the porch. The next minute, they disappeared through the door into the cabin.

"I'll take the buggy and the horses down to the barn," Iris announced. "There's not much daylight left."

"I'll come with you," Mick swung himself up into the front seat next to her, and the buggy trundled away, down the hill to the barn.

Violet watched the buggy roll to a stop in front of the barn, where Mick hopped back down and slid back the barn door. He stood aside as Iris drove the buggy inside with the three horses trotting after it on their lead ropes.

Violet sighed and glanced at Chuck, who still leaned against the porch. He smiled and lowered his eyes when he saw her looking at him. Violet couldn't wipe the smile off her face. She turned her shoulder to him and followed his gaze down the hill. "You can see the whole ranch from up here. You can see right through the back door of the main house, and you can see everything going on in front of the yard."

"Where's your guardian's house?" he asked.

"Over there." Violet pointed out an even smaller cottage on a distant hill to the north. Only the glint of the sun on its windows showed it was there. "It's very private, the Bird House. You can't hardly see anything of the ranch from there, and no one can see you. And you definitely can't hear anything."

"It sounds ideal," Chuck remarked.

"Rose mentioned on the way to town this morning that she would like to live there with Jake," Violet told him. "That is, if Cornell wasn't there."

"Sounds like a good idea," Chuck replied.

"I still don't like the idea of sending him away," Violet remarked. "It just doesn't seem right."

"I understand, "Chuck replied. "He's family, and family means a lot. But you never know. We're all going to be married—when did you say it was? Friday? Something could happen between now and then that will clear the way for all of us to get what we want, even Cornell. It often works out that way."

"Do you think so?" Violet asked.

Chuck nodded. "Don't worry about Cornell. Everything will work out in the end. You'll see."

Violet surveyed the ranch below her. Then she peeked sideways at Chuck again and caught him looking at her and grinning from ear to ear. Violet laughed in spite of herself.

"What's so funny?" Chuck asked, but before the words got completely out of his mouth, he burst out laughing himself. "Aren't we a pair, giggling like schoolgirls."

Violet wiped the corner of her eye. "We're going to be married. Can you believe that?"

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Chuck dabbed his own eyes with the cuff of his sleeve.

Violet composed herself enough to look him in the face without laughing out loud. "I'm....I'm glad you're here."

Chuck went serious. "Me, too. I'm....Oh, heck. I sound like an idiot for saying it, but I think you're awful nice. I'm glad of that."

"I know just what you mean," Violet exclaimed. "I've wondered so many times what you would be like, and now that you're here and I'm seeing you in the flesh—well, I'm just so relieved and happy! I can't put it into words."

Chuck reached out toward her, and the next thing she knew, she found his hand holding hers. "You don't have to put it into words. Just so you know I feel the same way. I just can't wait 'til Friday."

Violet tried to answer, but she laughed for joy at the same time her eyes smarted with tears. This moment fulfilled all her deepest hopes for her mail-order marriage. She came up with the idea of getting mail-order husbands as a way to save the ranch. She never considered until this moment that she might marry a man she actually cared for.

Yet here he was, standing in front of her. She could care for him—she could do so much more than care for him! She could dedicate her life to him, she could join forces with him and become so much stronger than they ever were alone. So this was what marriage was all about! And she never realized it before.

#  Chapter 12

The daylight lengthened into twilight, a pleasant breeze washed over the range, and the last birds twittered from somewhere out of sight. Chuck's fingers slipped over Violet's, and a surge of goose bumps shot up her spine and up the back of her neck. Would Rose and Jake come out of the house right now and find them holding hands? Wasn't she supposed to be the proper older sister and set an example for her younger sisters? Somehow it never worked out that way.

Violet tore her eyes away from Chuck's face and took refuge in the view of the ranch. "Somehow, they've all managed to run off and leave us alone."

Chuck pretended to look around for the others. "I don't think they're thinking about us at all. I think they all wanted to get off alone, and I don't blame them. Is there anywhere we can go to spend some time, just you and me?"

Violet started back in surprise. "I hadn't thought about that."

"I'll be stuck up here with Mick and Jake," Chuck went on. "And you'll be stuck down there with Iris and Rose. When will we ever spend any time together?"

"I'm sure we'll all go off alone together after the service on Friday," she replied.

"I mean before Friday," Chuck corrected her. "I don't want to come to the altar on Friday without spending some time with you first. I'd die of loneliness."

"We aren't going to the altar," Violet told him. "Don't you remember? The minister is coming out here Friday morning to marry us at the main house. I told you that in my letter."

"I remember," Chuck replied. "But that doesn't change the fact that we have three more days to wait before that happens. What are you trying to do—torture me?"

"Of course not," Violet replied. "If you want to spend time alone, we'll find a way to do it."

"Of course I want to spend time alone with you," Chuck told her. "Don't you want to spend time alone with me, too?"

"Sure, I do," Violet replied. "I just need to think of a way to do it. Hey, listen. You're coming down to the house for supper in a little while. Maybe afterward we can take a walk together. And look up there. There'll be a nice bright moon. It'll be a beautiful night for a walk. How does that sound?"

"All right. You win." His finger slid back and forth in her hand again. The skin slipped silky and smooth under his touch. The goosebumps prickled over her body again. If only she could find a way to be alone with him! So what if they weren't married yet? They would be soon enough.

But they weren't alone now. Here came Iris and Mick out of the barn together, and the tread of footsteps on the stairs inside the house jerked Violet out of her reverie. She pulled her hand away from Chuck and stepped back. "Good, then. Until tonight."

The smile fell away from his face. Oh, what was she doing? He was right. Why couldn't they just stay like this forever? Why did they have to put up a façade of propriety between now and Friday?

Maybe Iris and Rose were right about getting rid of Cornell. She didn't really want to share a house with anyone, not even her own sister, after she married Chuck. How sensible Iris was! She knew perfectly well that, after the wedding service, she would want to take Mick back to the Fort House—alone—and stay there and live there with him—alone. She didn't want any interference from any of her sisters or their husbands, and she definitely didn't want any interference from Cornell.

Even though she knew in her heart Iris was right, Violet still couldn't resign herself to support their plan to serve Cornell with his marching orders. She just couldn't bring herself to remove the last remaining obstacle to all three of their couples living alone together in their own houses.

To Violet's eternal gratitude, the cabin door swung open and Rose and Jake came out onto the porch. At the same time, Mick and Iris strode up the hill and stopped right in front of Chuck and Violet. Thank goodness she'd let go of his hand before they came!

One passing glance at her sisters showed Violet they'd each shared a moment of connection with their future husbands the same way Violet had with Chuck. All six of them wore the same bewildered smile on their faces and the same smitten blush on their cheeks. Did she look that way, too? Violet felt the burning heat in her face and knew she did.

Mick climbed up onto the porch. He selected one of the long cases from the pile of luggage and laid it out on the floor. He unclipped the latches and threw back the lid. He took a polished shotgun out of the case and inspected it. He raised the butt to his shoulder, pointed the muzzle down toward the ground, and sighted down the barrel.

Then he set the shot gun aside and took out first one and then another lever-action rifle. He gave these the same inspection. When he finished, he stood all three guns against the wall in the corner of the porch.

The three sisters watched him, Iris in admiration, Rose detached, and Violet frozen in astonishment. So this was the man her sister planned to marry? A man who unpacked his guns before everything else? Jake and Chuck watched him, too, and his actions gave Jake an idea. He dug out a small square case from the stack of trunks and bags and opened it on the bent-wood chair at the back of the porch.

Violet gasped in surprise when he lifted out a gun belt bristling with bullets and buckled it around his waist. The hand grips of the two pistols hanging on either hip gleamed with inlaid ivory and silver enamel. Jake adjusted their position on his hips and drew them one after the other. He hefted them in his hands, flexed the hammers of both guns under his thumb, and then slid them back into their holsters.

The gun belt made him look different to Violet. It made him look....what? What was different about him, with a gun at his waist? Yet the minor addition to his wardrobe changed him in Violet's eyes. She couldn't understand it, but her estimation of him shifted. Her first impression of him at the hotel saloon had been grossly incorrect. He wasn't small or weak or inexperienced or soft. Jake Hamilton was not a man to be trifled with. Violet was never more certain of anything.

Neither Rose nor Iris nor Chuck showed any sign of disturbance at the men getting out their guns. Was Violet exaggerating the significance of it? After all, they'd wanted cowboys and cowboys was what they got. Still, something told Violet these were no ordinary cowboys handling the tools of their trade. Mick looked more like an outlaw getting ready to rob a bank.

And Jake? She didn't know what Jake looked like. He didn't look like any cowboy she ever saw. He looked like a coyote or a mountain lion stalking its prey. Violet knew nothing about him, but she was quite certain he could wield those guns with deadly accuracy.

#  Chapter 13

"I don't suppose you ladies know what sort of good huntin' there is around here," Mick asked.

"I'm sure I don't," Violet replied.

"I do," Iris cut in. "There's deer and elk and moose down here on the range all the time, especially in the fall. You know how it is. If you go up into the mountains, it's even better. There's bears, cougars, and wolves. And, of course, there's birds. You go down to the river, you'll have no end of birds of all kinds."

Mick squinted at her. "You don't go huntin', do ya?"

Iris blushed. "No. I don't have time. But Pete and Wade go when they have a day or two off."

"Hmm." Mick turned back to unpacking his cases. He took out bandoliers of small caliber bullets and boxes of rifle cartridges. He sorted them all and laid them out by size. "Maybe you and me can go for a ride up there, Chuck." He nodded toward the mountains behind the ranch.

"You go ahead. I want to have a look at things around the ranch." He caught Violet's eye and glanced away.

"How 'bout you, Jake?" Mick asked. "You fancy a little bit a' huntin' before you get stuck into work?"

Jake strolled across the porch and leaned against a post. "I could be tempted to go out, if you're goin'. No sense bustin' ourselves with work right away, especially if we're gettin' married on Friday. Might do to take a day or two to settle in first."

"If the ranch is anywhere near as behind as you say it is," Chuck added. "Then we don't have any time to waste goin' off huntin'. But I tell you what, I mean to have a look for myself and decide just what's what. I won't take anyone's word on the state of things around here. I'll look and see for myself."

"No one's stoppin' you," Mick replied. "But there'll be plenty of time for work after we get married. I've been traveling for three weeks to get here. I'm gonna take at least a day or two off before I start crackin' heads."

Violet caught her breath at his words, but no one else seemed to notice.

"We should get down to the house," Iris remarked. "It'll be suppertime soon. We can talk about things then. You men'll want to get settled in, and we've had a long day on the road."

"That's all right," Mick replied. "You go ahead. We'll be down to supper directly."

"Before we go," Violet interrupted. "I should show you around the house a little bit. There are some extra supplies in there to make your stay more comfortable."

"Oh, right," Iris replied. "I forgot. Violet arranged the house for your coming."

"If you follow me...." Inside, she showed them to the wood stove in the corner of the main room downstairs. "There's firewood here, and we always keep a box of matches and candles here on the shelf. I don't know if you'll need to light the fire. It's been pretty warm here the last few weeks, and I've arranged with Rita for you three to take your meals down at the main house."

"If it's warm and we don't need to cook," Chuck replied. "Then I don't see us needing to light the fire."

"That's what I thought," Violet agreed. "But you never know. Just keep it in mind. And there's a box of tinder here for getting it going." She crossed the room to a wooden trunk built into the wall of the room. "In here, I've put some food stores, just in case you get hungry. You never know when you might want something between meals. There's a side of bacon, a couple rounds of cheese, a loaf of bread, and a basket of apples from the cellar. That should keep you going. If you eat all that and you want some more, you let me know and I'll fix you up."

Chuck smiled at her. "Very practical. Thank you."

Violet smiled back. "They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, so I figured we'd keep the way well cleared."

The three men chuckled. "Of course."

"Now then." Violet stopped at the foot of the ladder leading up to the loft. "The beds are upstairs. I suppose Rose showed you, Jake. I won't go up. You can find your way by yourselves. But you'll find a supply of extra blankets in the bench at the foot of the beds. You shouldn't need them, what with the mild weather we're having, but like I said, you never know. If you need something else, you can tell me."

"No one's told you yet, Chuck," Iris interrupted. "Violet runs this ranch. Cornell thinks he's the one who makes all the decisions around here, but it's actually Violet who decides who does what and when and where. She even keeps the books."

"I'm glad to hear it." Chuck nodded to her. "It's good to know my future wife knows how to manage a place. I wouldn't want it any other way."

Violet flushed with pride. "I'm only doing what I have to do. I feel the same way Iris does. This ranch is our inheritance, and I want to make sure we have it in good working order to hand down to the next generation. Cornell can only do so much. He can't run the ranch with a woman's eye for the small details. He can't know how to run the kitchen for maximum efficiency. He can't know all the things we could be doing for ourselves instead of paying for them in town."

"Violet tells Rita what to cook for our meals and what ingredients to use," Iris told them. "She even tells her how much soap to use in the laundry and how to make the soap. She mends all our clothes, and she does it so well that Cornell doesn't even notice they've been mended. If he did notice, he would tell us to throw the clothes away and buy new ones."

"It's a waste of money," Violet insisted. "Take a look at this dress." She held up the skirts of her own dress. "Look at that seam. You would never know that dress had been mended."

The three men examined the seam, and nodded their heads in mute agreement.

"This is a perfectly good dress," Violet declared. "Why should I throw it away when it could be mended as good as new? And the laundry soap. If Cornell knew we used homemade soap for the laundry, he would tell us to use store bought soap instead. It's just wasteful, and it's our own money he's wasting, too. He doesn't care about spending our money the same way he would care if it was his own."

"I agree with you absolutely," Chuck replied. "A woman should do everything possible to safeguard the family economy. My mother made all our clothes, all our soap, mended all our clothes, and cooked all our food from homegrown ingredients. It's the mark of a sensible, practical woman. And it's everything I hoped my wife would be, too."

Violet blushed to the roots of her hair. "It's the least a woman can do to run her own household. We're not royalty, although Cornell certainly would like to think we are."

"And do you know," Iris continued. "Violet sneaks Cornell's clothes and mends them on the sly. That's how practical she is. He doesn't even know his clothes have been mended. That's how far Violet goes to keep him happy. He thinks she's his strongest supporter around here. He doesn't even know she disagrees with him."

The three men stared at Violet with new appreciation. "It's amazing," Chuck murmured. "That's certainly going above and beyond the call of duty."

Violet shook her head. "It _is_ the call of duty. I wouldn't get anywhere arguing with him about it. I've found that out too many times. If he doesn't have the eyes to see that his socks are darned and his shirts mended, why should he get new ones? My word, he doesn't even notice when they have holes that need mending!"

"Then I guess he can't really express his appreciation for your efforts," Mick pointed out.

"Oh, I don't want him expressing his appreciation," Violet exclaimed. "I'm very happy for him to remain in the dark. As I say, if he doesn't notice, he doesn't deserve new clothes. He doesn't deserve new clothes, anyway, not at our expense. If I'm the one paying for his clothes, then by golly, he'll get them mended when they wear out."

"I'll say!" Chuck agreed.

Violet looked at Chuck and found him studying her. When their eyes met, they both smiled and blushed and looked away.

Violet didn't hear what the others said. She didn't hear what Chuck said or what she herself said. They managed to separate somehow, maybe without speaking at all. Violet and her sisters strolled down the hill to the main house. Only about halfway down the hill Violet heard the door of the Fort House shut behind them. The men had watched them go.

Violet didn't bother to try to talk to her sisters on the way back to the house. She didn't even look at them. Her mind wandered away over the range under the pendulous moon. Chuck strolled at her side, his delicate fingers tickling the palm of her hand.

And then, when they came to the creek bottom under the poplar trees, he stopped and moved just a little closer to her. And all the while, her heart thudded in her chest until her legs wobbled underneath her. She saw his eyes, his face, his mouth, and his fingers caressed her hands.

#  Chapter 14

The three sisters sailed into the house, each floating in her own separate dream and smiling the same secret smile. Iris and Rose disappeared before Violet knew what became of them, and she knew better than to follow them. She ought to go to her own room and lie down for a while before the men came up for supper.

But some nameless misgiving induced her to seek out Cornell one more time before they parted for the evening. Maybe Iris had a point and she felt guilty about flouting his wishes. She just couldn't let him go with their quarrel hanging over her head.

She tiptoed along the passage leading to the library. None of the usual hum of human presence emanated from the walls the way they usually did when Cornell held office in there. Maybe he'd already gone home to the Bird House for the night. Maybe he'd given instructions to Rita to bring his supper up there so he wouldn't have to deal with any of the Kilburn girls at all. Maybe he just wanted some peace and quiet.

Violet stuck her head into the library, expecting to find it empty. But she cried out when she saw Cornell putting the last of his papers away. "Are you still up, Cornell? I thought you'd be sitting on the porch smoking your pipe by now. It's late, you know. You're not burning the midnight oil, are you?" Violet crossed the carpet to his desk.

"I'm still working, Violet," Cornell replied. "Have you and your sisters just come back from town with those men of yours?"

"Yes." Violet blushed in spite of herself. "They'll be staying in the Fort House until Friday, but I guess I already told you that."

"You told me," Cornell replied. "I just didn't want to believe you'd go through with it."

His tone snapped her out of her dream and brought her back to earth with a crash. "Of course we went through with it. Did you really think, after we went to the trouble of getting these men out here, that we would back out of our plan?"

Cornell sighed. "I guess I only hoped."

"You should know us better than that by now, Cornell," Violet told him. "You should know we aren't given to flights of fancy or idle threats. When we make up our minds to do something, we do it, especially when we believe it will serve the best interests of the ranch and our future."

"I suppose you're right," Cornell admitted. "I just hoped you wouldn't. So, what are they like, these men? Are they everything you hoped they would be?"

The blood rushed to Violet's cheeks and her eyes blazed at the memory of Chuck outside the Fort House. "They're everything we hoped they would be. I think they're going to be perfect for us. You'll see, Cornell. The ranch will be so much better off with them here. We all will be."

"No, I don't think so, Violet dear." Cornell put the last of his papers away, came around his desk, and positioned himself in front of her. He crossed his hands in front of himself and furrowed his brows at her. "I think you will live to regret this decision, and I wouldn't be doing my duty to your family if I let it happen."

Violet didn't like his tone at all. She wouldn't let him see how much his manner frightened her, so she straightened her spine and set her teeth for the next round of their argument. "There's nothing you can do to stop it now. They're right out there in the Fort House, and we're all getting married on Friday, come hell or high water."

"I don't think that will happen, Violet," Cornell insisted. "I think I can still make you see the light before Friday."

"I don't want to see the light," Violet declared. "Not your light, anyway. And neither do Iris or Rose. You'll just have to accept it."

"I won't accept it," Cornell told her. "And I still have a few arrows left in my quiver to convince you."

Violet froze. "Like what?"

"I'm still your guardian and your trustee," Cornell reminded her. "I still hold the purse strings of your fortune, and I still have the power to consent to these marriages. I can use the power vested in me by your late parents to stop you from marrying these men."

Violet shuddered. He didn't really mean to make this situation as unpleasant as all that, did he? "What are you saying, Cornell? You don't mean that..." Violet trailed off.

Cornell pointed his finger into Violet's face. "I'm holding you personally responsible for this fiasco, Violet. Your sisters would never go through with a plan like this without your encouragement. If anyone takes the consequences for this, it should be you."

"What consequences do you mean?" Violet could barely form the words to ask.

"I'm still sole trustee of your estate," Cornell reminded her. "I still have the power to decide which, if any of you, inherits your parent's fortune. If you prove yourself unworthy of it, perhaps you shouldn't."

"You wouldn't dare!" Violet gasped. "You wouldn't disinherit me on the very eve of my wedding day!"

"Wouldn't I?" Cornell sneered. "I can and I would, if you persist in this disastrous scheme of yours. I don't see why the fortune your father worked so hard for should be squandered on some dirty cattle puncher."

"You haven't even met Chuck," Violet retorted. "How do you know he's dirty? Why don't you come to supper now and meet him. I think your fears would be assuaged if you did. You'll see he's a good man who will do the ranch a lot of good. And I'm quite certain I'll be very happy married to him. Come and see for yourself."

"I wouldn't stoop so low," Cornell shot back. "I don't have to meet him or see him or the other two to know what they are. You said you were marrying cowboys, and that's all I need to know. They aren't worthy of the Kilburn family fortune, and I'll make sure they never see a penny of it. And neither will any of you, if you go through with these marriages."

"You can't disinherit all of us," Violet pointed out. "What are you going to do? Take the money for yourself?" She meant the question as a joke, but the minute the words passed her lips, a terrible chill froze Violet's heart. He couldn't, could he? He wouldn't! Wasn't he supposed to be their guardian, the executor of their trust? How could he even suggest such a thing?

"I can, and I will." Cornell squared his shoulders and his spiny eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead. "I suggest you go to supper and tell these men that the wedding is off, and that you and your sisters have decided to marry different men. That's what you'll tell them, if you don't want to wind up on the street." He compressed his lips on the last word.

#  Chapter 15

Violet pulled herself up and hardened her heart to him. For the first time in her life, he didn't frighten her. "And I suggest, Cornell, that you think twice about opposing these marriages. Do you know what Iris and Rose talked about on the way down to Butte today, and what she and the men talked about on the way home? They talked about packing you off, out of the Bird House, out of Rocking Horse Ranch, and out of our lives, after we get married."

Cornell's eyebrows flew up, but he kept his composure enough not to show his shock any other way. "Is that so?"

"Yes, it is," Violet told him. "I spent both trips doing everything in my power to defend you and keep a place for you here. But I see no reason to do that if you threaten me or make life unpleasant for our husbands."

"They aren't your husband's yet, Violet," Cornell growled.

"No, but they will be," Violet declared. "You may be absolutely certain of that. We will marry these men on Friday, whether you like it or not, and even if you do plan to take our money for yourself, all of our fortune will pass to our husbands the day we marry them, no matter what you say or do."

Cornell didn't reply. He only pressed his lips together more firmly than ever. Was that a hint of concern in his eye? Oh, please let it be so! Please let her words strike home!

Violet's words came out of her mouth like molten iron. She'd never heard her own voice so hard and piercing before. Was she really saying these things? And to Cornell's face, too! She never thought she'd live so long.

"If I was in your position, Cornell," she said. "I'd make an effort to be very polite and generous, not only to these three men, but to me and my sisters, too. Your future rests in our hands, and it wouldn't take much to tip the balance of power away from you. If that happens, there's nothing I can do to protect you, and it's you who'll be out on the street."

Violet fixed him with one last withering glare before she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. She slammed the door behind her, but immediately ran away, down the passage, and up the stairs to her own room, where she slammed her own door and locked herself in.

She threw herself down on her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and screamed as she'd never screamed before in her life. She screamed out all her vile thoughts about Cornell. She screamed all her worry about the future of the ranch and for the well-being of her sisters. Last of all, she screamed in excitement and exhilaration at the thought of Chuck. The thrill of pleasure scorched up her arm from the fingers he'd touched and spread through her whole body.

Was this what it felt like? Was this what a man could do to a woman's body? Could a thought throw her into a ferment of anticipation at seeing him again, talking to him, touching him. Heavens above! How much more incredible would it be to live with him, to hold him, to lie next to him every night of her life!

Oh, she couldn't stop screaming from thinking about it! Did her sisters know? Is this the way Iris felt when she left the barn with Mick? What had they talked about and done in there? Had he touched her hand and spoken soft words to her and smiled into her eyes the way Chuck did to her? And Jake must have done the same thing to Rose in the Fort House. That's why they all smiled so foolishly and couldn't stop smiling?

Did every woman in the world feel this way when she got close to a man? So this was what all the fuss was about! Violet always thought all that romantic fairy-tale nonsense about finding your prince and living happily ever after was just a childish story. But here it was, coming true for her and her sisters.

Please, God, don't let anyone hear her screaming like this. But she couldn't stop. Tears of excitement and raw emotion wet her pillow. She only stopped screaming when the pain in her throat overcame her agitation and she couldn't scream any more. Maybe she'd destroyed her voice, and everyone would know she'd screamed her head off because she couldn't talk anymore.

She sat up and sniffed. Then she got a drink of water from the wash stand pitcher. She must pull herself together before going down to supper. The men would arrive soon, and she wanted to look her best.

The events of the day flooded back, and she suppressed a giggle at the sizzle of eagerness at seeing Chuck again downstairs. Why did Cornell have to be such an insufferable tyrant? Why couldn't he at least try to understand the sisters' reasons for marrying these men? Why did he have to make the whole experience so unpleasant for everyone?

What a joy these marriages would be for all of them if Cornell hadn't blighted the experience with his petty spite! A wedding should be the happiest day of a woman's life. And here were three sisters, all getting married on the same day.

If Violet judged rightly, all three were marrying their fairy-tale princes, their hearts' true and destined sweethearts. What happier occasion could anyone imagine?

Curse that Cornell, anyway! Violet would find a way to deal with him. She resolved to discuss with her sisters his latest threat to disinherit them. She crossed the room to tidy up her hair in the looking glass, but she gasped in horror when she saw herself. She wouldn't let a living soul—not even her sisters—see her puffy red eyes or swollen lips.

She wet a handkerchief in the washbasin and laid it over her eyes. She splashed more water over her whole face and then went to open the window. The cool night air would cool her down. She pushed back the lace curtains and threw up the sash. As she expected, the breeze gusted into the room and bathed her wet face in a luscious chill.

But Violet caught her breath again when her eye fell on a solitary figure on the ground below her window. In the last twilight before full dark, Chuck glanced up at the house and saw her. Their eyes met, and he smiled.

Violet laughed out loud in pure joy at seeing him again. His face broke into a grin, and he blew her a kiss.

All Violet's efforts to fix up her face failed, and her eyes brimmed with tears. She laughed at the same time, and she blew him a kiss of her own.

His smile turned to a laugh, and he cast his eyes down to the ground with his cheeks on fire. When he peeked up at her again, he pointed into the house, and Violet nodded.

#  Chapter 16

Violet never flew so fast as she raced away from that window. She forgot all about her face, her hair, Cornell, the ranch, and everything else. She only knew one thing: she was going downstairs to see him. Nothing else mattered in the world.

She ran down the stairs and nearly collided with Chuck in the entry hall near the front door. She collapsed into another laughing fit, unsure whether to run away or throw herself into his arms.

He held her at arm's length. "Hang on there. Where's the fire?"

"I was just coming downstairs to meet you," she stammered. "I guess I got a little ahead of myself."

"I'll say." Chuck examined her face a little more closely. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She tried to cover her mouth with her hand, but laughed hysterically instead. "It's just been such an emotional day. I guess I'm a little overwrought from it all."

Chuck cocked his head. "Emotional? How?"

"Oh, I just mean meeting you for the first time," Violet explained. "And I had it out with Cornell this morning, and now I just had it out with him again when we came in after dropping you off. But I'm fine. I guess I'm just tired. I'll be just fine as soon as I've had a chance to calm down."

Chuck heard more than she intended. Even at a distance from him, Violet felt him stiffen. "You had it out with him? In what way?"

"I went to the library to find out if he was still working in there, and he was," Violet told him. "You know he's not happy about us marrying you men. Well, he's more unhappy about it now that you're here. He got quite nasty about it, in fact." She glanced in the direction of the library, although she knew Cornell wouldn't be there anymore. He'd be back at the Bird House, having his own supper by now.

Chuck's sharp eyes pierced her. "What did he say? What did he say to you this time?"

Violet quailed. Why did Cornell have to spoil her happiness even now? She'd been so excited to come downstairs to Chuck, and here they were, alone, just inches away from each other, and what did they do? They talked about Cornell. She'd had enough of Cornell to sink the Spanish Armada!

She waved her hands as if to shoo Cornell out of her life, but the tears mounted in her eyes despite her efforts to blink them away. "I don't want to talk about him anymore. We're here together, and we're alone together. I don't want to spend the time we have together talking about Cornell. Let's go in to supper, and afterward, we'll go out for our walk, and we won't talk about Cornell, or the ranch, or anything else. We'll just enjoy each other's company"

Chuck frowned at her, and she almost lost her nerve entirely. Then he reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "All right. We won't talk about Cornell anymore."

"I hope you understand," Violet exclaimed. "It's just that I was so happy to come down here to meet you....." She burst into tears. "And here we are talking about Cornell! I could choke on Cornell! And we just met! It isn't fair!" She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

Something soft and warm was happening to her, but she couldn't see through her fingers or stem the flow of her tears to figure out what it was. Then she felt a warm breath on the outside edge of her ear and she realized Chuck was holding her in his arms. If only she could stop crying and enjoy it! What was wrong with her?

A slight inclination of her head brought her forehead into contact with his chest. An overpowering surge of raw emotion swept over her. Was it passion, or grief, or anger, or elation? She'd never experienced emotions so strong before, and they took every scrap of feeling in her whole body and heart and soul just to experience them without exploding into a million shards of glass.

She laid her head down on his chest and wept for all she was worth. It was the only response she could muster in the face of this overwhelming upheaval. Maybe she _was_ exploding into a million shards of glass. Maybe this is what it felt like to explode and come back together as a completely different person—a person in love.

What must Chuck think of her strange behavior? Would he think she was upset about meeting him or unwilling to go through with their marriage? Heaven forbid!

But he patted her on the back and breathed his intoxicating breath into her ear. Every breath of his on her ear and neck only blew the pieces of her up into the atmosphere again. Every breath of his burned her skin and fanned the flames of her torment. Why did she have to wait until Friday to rest her head on his chest forever, to let the breath of his mouth blow her away, never to return?

At last, the fragments of what used to be Violet Kilburn settled back to earth and she dragged her head up. She sniffed and dabbed the corners of her eyes on her sleeve. "I'm a mess," she mumbled. "Pay no attention to me."

He chuckled from somewhere above her. "Okay. I won't."

She snorted with laughter again, and looked up at him. But she nearly choked on her laughter when she found his face just inches away from hers, his eyes searching hers and his lips parted. Instead of starting away from her in astonishment, he leaned even closer to her, his breath kindling her brain into a dizzying shower of sparks.

His lips hung so close to hers. His hands pressed so tightly against the small of her back. His heart thumped against the bodice of her dress, reverberating through her being and shaking the edifice of her nature to its foundation.

"I guess we better go in to supper," she breathed. "The others will be waiting for us."

"Let 'em wait," Chuck murmured.

He moved forward another fraction of an inch to close the gap between his lips and hers, but a door slammed in another part of the house and startled both of them apart. "It's him!" Violet gasped. "It's Cornell!"

#  Chapter 17

Chuck dropped his hands from her body, and they both stepped away. "How do you know it's him?"

"That was the door by the back parlor," Violet whispered. "He always uses that door when he comes down from the Bird House. He's the only one who uses it. It's almost his own private entrance."

"Quick! In here!" Chuck pulled her through the nearest doorway.

"Not in here!" Violet whispered.

"Why not?" Chuck asked.

"This is the library," Violet told him.

Chuck looked around. "Yeah? So what?"

"This is Cornell's office," Violet explained. "That's his desk right over there. If he's coming to the house at this hour, he'll be coming here. He probably wants to do some work, or he forgot something when he went home. We can't stay in here."

"Well, where else is there to go?" Chuck asked. "We can't exactly go to your room, can we? We aren't married yet."

"There is nowhere else to go." Violet glanced around the library. "The only place to go is outside."

"Maybe if we just keep quiet, he won't come," Chuck suggested.

"And if he does come?" Violet asked.

"Then I'll introduce myself to him," Chuck replied. "I have to meet him sooner or later. It's not like we're doing anything wrong by being alone together in the library, are we?"

Violet stared at him. Then she dissolved in laughter.

"What's so funny?" Chuck asked.

"Listen to us!" Violet gasped. "Whispering in a corner of the library and worrying about being caught! We're like two children sneaking into the cookie jar."

Chuck stared back at her. Then he burst into a grin. "You're right. We're adults, and we're going to be married in a few days. We aren't doing anything wrong. Let him come and find us here if he wants to."

They waited in silence, their noses almost touching, and panting in a cloud of anticipation. They gazed into each other's eyes. "It's nice to be alone together, just for a little while," Violet breathed

Chuck nodded, his eyes probing into hers. "It is nice."

Violet breathed again. "The others are still waiting for us."

"They could be hiding just like we are." Chuck's arm slithered around her waist. Violet sucked in her breath as he pulled her toward him. "We're here. We might as well make the most of it while we have the chance."

"What are you going to do?" she whispered.

"Oh, nothing." His lips hovered closer to her mouth, quivering and tasting the air.

"Cornell....."she began.

"Forget about Cornell," he growled.

Something banged in the distance and Violet jolted in shock again. This time, Chuck let her go. "Let's get on. We'll have plenty of time for this when we don't have to worry about someone breakin' in on us."

Chuck took Violet by the hand and never let her go. His hand dwarfed hers by a mile, but her little hand and her heart took shelter in his big rough paw. Violet could face any menace with him at her side. How had she managed all these years without him? It must really be true that a person wasn't complete until they married their heart's intended.

Violet led Chuck out of the library and down the passage to the dining room. She slid the door open, but the only other person inside was Rose. She lifted her head and smiled at Violet and Chuck, but she didn't notice—or took as wholly natural—their joined hands.

"Where is everyone?" Violet asked. "I thought you would all be in here waiting for us."

"Jake just went out for a smoke before supper," Rose replied. "I don't know where Mick and Iris are. I haven't seen them. But I just heard Cornell come in. I wonder if he plans to join us. Maybe we should tell Rita to set another place for him."

Violet flushed. "I don't think he'll join us. He told me earlier he wasn't interested in meeting the men."

Rose's eyes widened. "Really? Why not?"

"He's in a fine stew about our mail-order marriages," Violet told her. "He has all kinds of wild ideas about how he's going to convince us to call off the wedding."

"Really?" Rose repeated. "What are his ideas?"

"I'll tell you when Mick and Iris get here—oh, and Jake, of course." Violet took a chair on the side of the table and pulled out the one next to it for Chuck. "I don't want to repeat the same story more than once. We'll talk about it when all of us are together."

Rose smiled. "This is almost like our first family meeting. It's our first council of war."

Violet stared at her sister. "This is hardly war, Rose. We're talking about Cornell. He's our uncle. I only wish there was some way to resolve this situation without escalating hostilities any further."

Rose leaned back in her chair. "Cornell bears all the responsibility for any hostility. We shouldn't go out of our way to lessen it for him. That will only weaken our position, and we don't want that."

Violet's mouth fell open. Was this her little sister saying these words? Was this sweet, innocent Rose, the flower of the family, taking such a stance against Cornell? "Rose! I'm shocked at you!"

"Why?" Rose asked. "You've done everything a person could do to make it up to Cornell. You've explained our position to him about a million times, and he refuses to listen. He refuses to be placated in any way. So you should stop trying. He wants to be hostile, so let him be hostile. We'll show him we can be hostile, too, and he won't like it one little bit."

"Rose!" Violet gasped.

Before they could discuss the situation further, the door opened and Jake sauntered in. He gave Chuck and Violet a casual smile and sat down next to Rose. "Evenin', folks. Nice night for it."

"It's gonna be a blazer," Chuck replied. "Violet and I are takin' a walk in the moonlight after supper. You two oughta do the same. You gotta take advantage of nights like this when they come around. The air is good for the soul."

"I agree." Jake turned to Rose. "What do ya say, darlin'? What do ya say to a stroll out in the moonlight after supper?"

Rose smiled at him and lowered her eyelids. "All right."

#  Chapter 18

The door opened again and Mick and Iris came in, but they weren't holding hands. Maybe she and Chuck ought to keep that sort of thing to themselves for now. Maybe the others hadn't gotten that far. But Chuck had almost kissed her just now. Who knew what the others had got up to when no one else was around?

Mick and Iris sat down side by side at one end of the table. Mick pretended to look around the room. "What is there to eat around here?"

"Rita will be here in a minute with the food," Iris told him. "She's our cook. We're late, so she probably took everything back to the kitchen to keep it warm for us."

"Does she know we're coming?" he asked.

Iris nodded. "I told her when we came into the house earlier. I also checked in on her before I came out to get you."

So Iris had gone out to bring Mick into the house. So they'd spent some time alone, just like Chuck and Violet. Violet stole a glance across the table and spied Jake gazing at Rose again, but Rose kept her eyes down on the table in front of her.

Violet opened her mouth to fill the silence up with some nonsense or other when the cook herself came in with a tureen of soup. She served it out to the three couples as they sat in silence, waiting for her to leave. Violet glanced from one of her sisters to the other, from one man to the other.

Mick and Iris stared straight ahead of them without the slightest indication anyone else occupied the room. Rose kept her eyes down, but Jake gazed around the room with a slight smile on his lips, taking everything with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. When Violet looked at Chuck, he smiled at her. He probably would have taken her hand again if she hadn't turned away.

Rita left the room, and only after the door clicked shut behind her did the six diners stir to life. Yet still they didn't speak. For a long time, only the slurping and sipping of soup filled the room. In the end, Jake let his spoon clatter into the bowl and gave a loud sigh. "That hit the spot. What's for dessert?"

Iris's eyes flew open, and then she laughed. "That's just the soup course, silly. Rita will bring the main course next."

"What is the main course?" Chuck asked.

Iris flashed him a winning smile. "Beef, of course."

The three men exchanged a quick look and erupted in laughter. "Excuse me," Chuck exclaimed. "I should have assumed."

Rita brought the roast in, a dish of potatoes, and another of greens and cabbage. The three couples waited in silence until the cook placed the plates on the table and left the room.

"This looks capital," Jake remarked. "Thank you for arranging all this. This beats the pants off train station food any day of the week. I can't think of the last time I had a home cooked meal."

"It was all Violet's doing," Rose told him. "She planned the whole thing, and Rita even uses Violet's recipes."

Jake and Mick raised their eyebrows at Violet. She moved her cabbage around in her dish to stop them seeing her cheeks burning.

"That's pretty good goin'," Chuck put in. "This roast smells delicious. And it falls apart perfectly. You don't even have to cut it with a knife." He put a piece in his mouth. "Outstanding. I'm impressed."

Violet smiled at him and lowered her eyes to her plate.

"And she grew the greens in the garden, too," Rose added. "Did she tell you that? Just about everything on this table came from Violet's garden—except for the beef, of course. That came from Iris."

"Just wait until you taste the plum cake," Iris told them. "If you think the meat is good, Chuck, the cake is divine. And it's all hers. She came up with the recipe herself. And she cooked it, too. Don't ever let her tell you that she didn't. Rita runs the kitchen, but when it comes to her plum cake, Violet does everything herself."

"She does?" Chuck asked. "What does she do?"

Iris marked off the steps on her fingers. "She mixes the batter, she controls the fire in the stove, she checks it in the oven, and she takes it out when she decides it's done. She doesn't leave anything to anyone else."

"You ladies sure are something extraordinary," Jake exclaimed. "It's not many women can claim to put on a meal like this, all with the fruits of their own labors."

"Nonsense!" Violet murmured. "Women all over the country do this sort of thing all the time."

"But didn't you tell us," Mick replied. "That you were raised to be high-brow society women, and that Cornell doesn't want you doing this sort of thing? Didn't you tell me you were doing all of this behind his back, to make up for his bad management? Now, that's sayin' something. There's probably not a woman in a thousand who would do that, and there's probably not a woman in a million who could pull it off. And here you sit, the three of you at one table."

"I didn't do it," Rose corrected him. "I'm not doing anything behind Cornell's back. It's Violet and Iris doing everything."

"You're here with us now," Violet reminded her. "You're getting married against his wishes. None of us could get away with this if we weren't all doing it together. I'm grateful to you for that."

"And you've kept our secrets, too," Iris added. "We couldn't do what we do if you weren't helping us pull the wool over Cornell's eyes."

Jake patted her hand on the white tablecloth. "I don't mind. To me, you're just as good as they are." They shared a heartfelt smile.

#  Chapter 19

"Rita must be keeping your secret, too," Chuck pointed out. "You couldn't be doing any of this with the servants running to the master with tales of your exploits."

"Oh, she _is_ keeping it," Violet replied. "She does a marvelous job of helping me make up the fake accounts to show him what we didn't spend on food and supplies."

"It's the same with Pete Kershaw and Wade Jackson," Iris added. "They help me convince Cornell the ranch is running the way he wants it to run. They don't tell him about the decisions I make, and they help cover up the results so he doesn't find out."

"Not that you have much to worry about with him finding out," Rose remarked. "He barely sets foot outside the house, much less ride out onto the range to see for himself. He takes Pete's word for what's going on, how many head are in which pastures, how many calves the cows gave birth to, and everything else. You don't have anywhere near as hard a time as Violet has, covering her tracks around the house."

"And that tale you told us up at the Fort House about mending his clothes when he's not looking," Mick recalled. "Now that was impressive. I don't think I've ever met a woman who would try that and get away with it. Your mending skills must be as good as any professional tailor."

Violet blushed. "I'm okay."

"Okay?" Iris scoffed. "She can mend Cornell's suit jackets so well, a professional tailor would have trouble finding the repair. She makes all our dresses so Cornell can't tell the difference between her work and dresses bought from shops in Butte or even mail-ordered from Denver. He would pay for it, and she's good enough to make him think we did. That's how good she is."

"And she made our wedding dresses, too. Do you know what she did?" Rose laughed at the memory. "She got Wade's sister to drive out here from Butte with her sewing basket and measuring tape. Then she went through a big charade, pretending to measure us up for our wedding dresses."

"Did Cornell watch?" Jake asked,

"You better believe he did!" Violet exclaimed. "I almost fainted in fear that he would figure out what we were doing. He sat through the whole measuring operation and watched and asked questions about every detail. It was a very thorough fitting session, I can tell you!"

"I don't think Betty ever measured anyone for anything before in her life," Iris reported. "But she sure put on a convincing show."

"We told Cornell she worked for a high-end dressmaker out of San Francisco," Violet continued. "We said we were ordering our wedding dresses from them, and they would ship the dresses out on the stage. When Betty left, I walked her out to her buggy and she gave me the paper with all the measurements. Two weeks ago, we drove down to Butte and pretended to pick up the dresses. We even got some big boxes to not carry them into the house."

"That's a lot of trouble to go through to make your own wedding dresses," Jake pointed out.

"It was a lot of trouble," Violet admitted. "But can you imagine what it would have cost to get our dresses made in San Francisco and sent up here? And when you think about the ranch not doing so well, I just couldn't live with it—not when I can do just as good a job myself."

"Cornell will never know the difference," Rose assured her.

"He probably won't even attend the wedding," Violet replied. "From the way he's been acting, I wouldn't be surprised if he boycotts it."

"Do you really think he will?" Rose asked. "I thought he considered it his duty as our guardian to attend, even if he doesn't approve."

"Like I told you before," Violet told her. "He thinks he'll convince us to call it off."

Rose opened her mouth to ask her something, but Mick interrupted. "I suppose you ladies have the festivities for Friday all planned out. I suppose you have a big cake and flowers and the whole nine yards. Do ya?"

"Nothing like that," Violet told him. "Rita will make a cake, but it won't be big. After all, there's just the six of us and Cornell."

"Pete and Wade might come up," Iris put in."

"What?" Violet exclaimed. "Don't they have work to do?"

"There's always work to do," Iris replied. "But I told them they could come up if they wanted to. I told them they could take half the day off."

"That's a bit out of the ordinary, don't you think?" Violet asked. "After all, they're our employees. They aren't exactly family, that they should attend our wedding."

"They might not be family to you, Violet," Iris shot back. "But they are to me. They might be employees, but they've been running this ranch almost alone ever since Daddy died. And they ran it with him for fifteen years before that. We have Pete and Wade to thank for this ranch as much as anyone else."

"But still..."Violet began.

"I invited them, and they're coming—if they want to," Iris declared. "They're more family than Cornell, if you ask me."

The company shifted in their seats, and Violet jumped in to change the subject.

"To answer your question, Mick," she continued. "We don't have fancy decorations, either. The three of us have our wedding dresses, but the service will take place in the back parlor. We can all stand witness for one another. But we don't have anything very ostentatious planned. You'll be relieved at that, I suppose."

"It just makes practical sense to me," Mick replied. "As you say, there's just the six of us, and I guess your man Cornell will be there, too, so there's no point in going all out with the decorations. The whole shootin' match'll be over in a couple of hours. Then it'll be back to business."

"You'll be happy when it is, won't you?" Jake asked him.

Mick shrugged one shoulder. "I never went in for all that elaborate flowers and organ music and party favors and whatnot. We're getting married, not puttin' on a carnival. What's the point of putting up all those decorations when you're just gonna take 'em down in an hour or two. Makes no sense to me. Just get up in front of the minister, say the mumbo-jumbo, and get on with the rest of your life. The end."

"That's you," Chuck chimed in. "Mr. Romantic."

Iris flushed and let out a shocked little gasp.

Mick glanced to his right and to his left and shifted in his chair again. "Nothin' to do with romantic. Just plain foolishness, if you ask me."

"Your bride might think differently," Violet pointed out.

Mick shot Iris a sidelong look. "If she wants to do it, I sure won't stand in the way. But unless I miss my guess, she doesn't care much one way or the other." He caught Iris's eye, and the two exchanged a smile. Then Iris reached over and squeezed his hand.

So they were doing it, too. Violet breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn't getting ahead of her sisters.

#  Chapter 20

"It would be nice," Chuck remarked. "If no one came, if it was just us. I think that would be the best way. After all, we're the new family. Everyone else is just extra. We oughta stick to just the six of us. Make a statement to the rest of 'em about the way things are going to be from now on. That's what I think."

"You're darn right there, Chuck," Mick boomed out. "I'm with ya."

"Chuck is right," Rose piped up. "After the wedding, we aren't going to want to share this place with anyone. We should make that clear right from the start. Whatever anyone's done for us in the past, it's in the past. We're making a clean break and starting fresh. What better way to let everyone know than to have a private wedding just between us."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Violet replied.

"I know you don't think it's such a good idea," Rose shot back. "But, if you think about it, we're basically doing the same thing right now, don't you think? We're discussing and planning how we're going to deal with the people outside this room. We didn't invite Cornell to this supper."

"I did," Violet replied. "I encouraged him to come so he could meet these men and get to know them."

"What did you do that for?" Iris asked.

"He made a terrible stink about our marriages when I found him in the library," Violet explained. "He said our fortune would be squandered if we went through with these marriages. He even called you men...." She stopped. Why had she gone this far? She should have kept her confrontation with Cornell to herself.

They waited. "Say it," Mick commanded.

Violet glanced to her right and found Chuck staring at her, waiting. She stared wildly around the room, but they all fixed her with the same expectant stare. She had no choice but to tell them. "He called you dirty. He threatened to disinherit me if I went through with the marriage."

"He wouldn't!" Iris gasped.

"That's what I thought," Violet cried. "But he said he held me personally responsible for this whole situation, and he said he would disinherit the rest of you, too, if we didn't call off the wedding."

"Can he really do that?" Chuck asked. "He doesn't have the authority to cut all three of you off. What would he do with the estate, if he did? There would be no legal heirs."

"That's what I said," Violet told him. "I was just joking when I said it, but I asked if he planned to take all the money for himself."

"What did he say to that?" Chuck asked.

"He said he could and he would," Violet replied. "He said we'd call off the wedding if we didn't want to wind up in the street."

#  Chapter 21

A hush fell over the table. Violet hated herself for revealing Cornell's threat. She should never have given it a moment's thought. She should have treated it as so much hot air. Now, she couldn't force herself to look at any of her sisters or their prospective husbands.

"That low-down snake!" Mick growled under his breath. "Just wait until I get my hands on him. I'll teach him his place!"

"What did you say to him, Violet?" Chuck asked. "What did you say when he threatened to disinherit all of you?"

"I told him about our conversation in the buggy," Violet replied. "I told him Rose and Iris and the rest of you wanted to get rid of him, and that I was the only one still defending him. I told him that, if he knew what was good for him, he would treat you men and us as generously and kindly as he could, or _he_ could wind up in the street."

Chuck stared at her. "You told him that?"

"Of course!" Violet cried. "He's been such a colossal boor these last few weeks. Rose and Iris don't know the half of it because I kept it to myself. But Cornell has done nothing but badger me day and night about this mail-order marriage. I've had enough of it! I've almost come around to your way of seeing things. If he can't at least be civil to us, then he doesn't belong here."

"Good for you, Violet," Iris exclaimed.

Chuck shook his head. "He's a blasted fool for driving you to it. Like you say, if he'd just mind his manners, you would probably defend him until the cows come home. He could have a pretty comfortable life here, if he would only be civil to us."

"He wouldn't even come here tonight to meet you," Violet told him. "When he called you dirty—I can only assume he meant because you're cowboys—I told him to come along and meet you for himself. I said he'd understand that these marriages will be good for us and for the ranch, and he would see that the moment he saw all of us together. I don't see how anyone could look at the six of us and not know that. But he wouldn't come."

"We don't need him anyway," Jake added. Violet jumped nearly out of her seat when he finally spoke. His voice sounded velvety and gentle, but it sent shivers up her spine. "We shouldn't give him another thought. He isn't worth our consideration."

"But how should we deal with him?" Iris asked. "We need a plan, in case he tries to disinherit us. You don't know him the way we do. He has every banker and lawyer in the territory yapping at his heels."

"We don't need a plan," Jake replied. "He can't do it. All we have to do is get married. Once that happens, he'll be completely helpless. There isn't time for him to disinherit any of you before the wedding and once you're legally married, all your money passes to your husbands. He can't do anything. He's just trying to frighten you."

"That's what I told him," Violet related. "But I didn't half believe it myself."

"It's true," Jake maintained.

"How do you know?" Violet laughed. "What are you, some kind of lawyer?"

Jake's black eyes cut straight through her. "Yes."

Her mouth flew open in astonishment. "But you said you were a cowboy!"

Jake crossed his legs at the knee and leaned against the back of the chair. "I am."

"But you can't be both!" Violet exclaimed.

Jake studied her across the table. Then he took a deep breath. "I went to work as a horse wrangler when I was fifteen. A draft horse stepped on my foot when I was hitching him to a wagon and he broke my foot. I was sitting in a hospital bed for six months while I waited for it to heal up. While I was there, I began to read some books in the hospital library. I became interested in the law, so I decided to study it."

"Where was this?" Chuck asked.

"Down in Texas," Jake replied. "I come from San Antonio, but I broke my foot in Galveston. So there I was, sitting around with not much to do for six months. So I read a bunch of books and took a bunch of tests. Then I received the results of the tests, and I got a job offer from a firm in Houston."

"What did you do?" Violet asked.

"I told 'em I didn't really want to work in an office all the time," Jake told her. "My foot healed up, and I went back to breakin' wild horses. So now you know." He glanced around the table at the five faces staring at him in amazement. At last, his eye settled on Violet. "If Cornell threatens you again, I suggest you send him packing then and there. The longer he hangs around, the more dangerous he could become. Get rid of him now. He won't ever come around to being civil to us."

"I don't think I can do that," Violet replied.

Jake examined her. "You're a decent person at the bottom. I'm a pretty good judge of people, and I can tell you have a tender heart, especially for anyone you've formed an attachment with. Cornell has been a crucial part of your life for years, and you're naturally reluctant to see him booted out on his ear."

Violet blinked back tears. "It just doesn't seem right, that's all."

Jake's eyes never left her face. "I know people pretty well. You might not believe it, but I do. Good, decent, kind people like you think everyone else in the world is like you. You think even a person like Cornell is good and decent and kind underneath it all. You think you can reason with him and get him to understand. But you can't. He doesn't think the same way you do. He doesn't want to make things up with you, and he doesn't want to find a way to understand you. He won't ever come around to your way of thinking."

"So what is there to do about him?" Violet asked.

"Shoot him like a mad dog," Jake declared. "Get rid of him, and don't ever let him back inside your house as long as he lives. That's all there is to do with a man like Cornell."

"But you don't even know him," Violet pointed out. "You've never even laid eyes on him. What you're saying is just as bad as what he said about you."

"There's one difference," Jake replied. "I'm not the one threatening people for even associating with him. I'm not threatening to throw three lovely young ladies out into the street for having supper with him."

Violet glanced around the table again. No one except Jake would look at her, and she couldn't stand to hold his gaze any longer. He saw too much of her innermost self, the part of her no one saw—not even Chuck. "This is all too much for me," she whimpered.

Jack turned back to Rose. "If you think about it a little bit, you'll realize that sending him away, and keeping this place for ourselves and our families, is the kindest thing we can do for him. What surprises me is that he isn't smart enough to realize that. You would think a man of his talents and intelligence would see which side his bread is buttered on. Instead, he's too stubborn and malicious to play second fiddle to your husband's—whoever they might be. He's too old and set in his ways, I guess. He'll cut off his nose to spite his face."

#  Chapter 22

Violet heard the clock chime in the back parlor. She turned to Chuck. "We should go out for our walk before it gets too late."

Chuck nodded, and the other two couples passed communications silently to each other through their eyes. Without agreeing on it, all three couples rose from the table and drifted apart.

Chuck and Violet meandered out of the dining room and back to the front door. Just outside the dining room, Chuck took her hand again, and her heart soared at the thought of walking out alone with him into the night world.

They turned the corner into the front hall and ran face first into Cornell.

"Oh, Cornell!" Violet exclaimed. "I didn't know you were here."

"Where are you going at this hour, Violet?" Cornell rumbled.

"We were just going out for a walk in the moonlight," Violet explained. "By the way, I don't think you've had the pleasure of meeting my fiancé. This is Chuck Ahern. And this is Cornell Pollard, my guardian."

Chuck put his hand out. "How do you do?"

Cornell glared at the hand and at Chuck. "I don't care to make your acquaintance, Mr. Ahern. I suppose Violet told you that already that I disapprove of your presence here."

"Yeah," Chuck replied. "She told me."

"Violet," Cornell continued. "As your uncle and guardian, I'm ordering you to go back upstairs to your room. Mr. Ahern, if you can't leave Rocking Horse Ranch immediately, I'll thank you to go back to the Fort House and stay there until you can leave. You aren't welcome here."

"You're in no position to order anyone to do anything," Violet snapped. "You've had your way with me and my sisters all these years, and you'll never order me to do anything again. Do you hear me? You are the one who should go back to the Bird House until you learn to speak civilly to us. This is our house, not yours."

"I think you misunderstand the situation, Violet," Cornell replied. "I will be the one who decides who comes and who goes in this house, and I will also be the one who ultimately decides who you three young women marry. That is my right and my responsibility as your guardian. You may not value me as such, but that is my role and I intend to fulfill it."

Violet drew herself up to her full height. "It may surprise you to learn, Cornell, that Jake Hamilton, Rose's fiancé, is a lawyer. He says you have no right to use our estate to control our lives. Once we marry these men, the estate will pass to them no matter what you say. You would do better to accustom yourself to that fact."

Cornell raised an eyebrow. "A lawyer, huh? Well, I have a lawyer, too, and I'm sure he's a much better one than Jake Hamilton of God-knows-where."

"San Antonio," Chuck put in.

"Of San Antonio," Cornell corrected himself. "Now go upstairs, Violet, before I take you there myself."

"You'll do no such thing," Violet shot back.

"You don't think so?" Cornell stepped forward and reached out to grab her arm.

Chuck matched him by taking a step of his own forward, and he thrust his arm between Cornell and Violet to block the older man's move. "Don't even think of laying a hand on the lady, Mister. I don't know you from Adam, but by God, as sure as I'm standing here, you won't lay a finger on her or I'll make you pay for it."

Cornell fumed and raged. "Pay for it, will I? I'll show you!"

Violet never saw Cornell move so fast. She never knew a man of his age could move so fast in the heat of anger. Cornell flailed his arms to one side, knocking Chuck out of the way. Chuck staggered backward and tripped over.

Violet screamed, "Chuck!" but it was too late. Chuck pitched over and cracked his head against the corner of the wall where it turned toward the dining room. He grunted once and slumped into a pile on the floor. He didn't move again.

With Chuck out of the way, Cornell made another grab for Violet. His fingers locked around her arm, and he yanked her toward the stairs at the end of the hall. She shrieked as loud as she could in the hopes of rousing someone in another part of the house. She didn't know if any of her sisters or their fiancés were still in the house, but even Rita would do. Let anyone come who could help her fend off Cornell.

She tugged and wrenched at her arm, but he held her as tight as a vice. Pulling at it hurt worse than his iron grip, but her desperation to get free only made her fight harder. He hauled her down the hall to the foot of the stairs, fighting all the way. By the time they got there, cries of panic prevented her from making any louder appeal for help.

Cornell put his foot on the first step to drag her upstairs, but the finality of the move jolted Violet out of her helplessness. She lashed out with her free arm and struck Cornell as hard as she could across the side of the head.

He flinched in pain, but not enough to let go of her arm. Seeing some effect from her efforts, she reared back and struck again. Cornell roared in rage and brought his own arms up to protect his head, but he was too late.

With one deafening bellow, he swung his arm with the hand at the end balled into a fist and clubbed Violet to the floor. The force sent her sprawling across the hall, and her shoulder knocked against a plant stand near the dining room door.

#  Chapter 23

She stared up at the towering figure of Cornell at the foot of the stairs, and she couldn't even recognize him. Where was the kindly uncle who managed all their affairs so selflessly through their formative years? Where was the man she revered as a second father or grandfather? Where was the guardian she turned to for advice and protection?

Cornell never turned his hand against any of the sisters before. Had he suffered some sort of apoplectic spell? Had he suddenly taken to drink? Certainly the sisters' mail-order marriages couldn't have driven him beyond his senses. But she didn't stop to try to reason with him or find out the cause of his bizarre behavior.

Something snapped in Violet's mind. Her ability to rationalize deserted her, and her body took over her brain. She never could understand afterward what impelled her to act. Some force beyond her comprehension took control of her arms and legs and exploded out of her in a whirlwind of motion.

Violet launched herself up off the floor with a violent screech, her teeth bared and her fingernails flexed like the claws of a wild cat. Her feet didn't touch the floor as she sailed across the hall and hit Cornell with all her weight.

She knocked him backward, and he landed on his back on the incline of the stairs. But Violet didn't stop there. She leapt on top of his prostrate form, screaming her insanity to the rafters. She seized Cornell by the tufts of hair on the side of his head and slammed his head down again and again onto the stair underneath him.

The first two times she delivered these blows, Cornell grunted in pain. He stared up at the banshee on top of him in terror, unable to rally his own hands to fight her off. The third and fourth blows drew whimpers of agony from him. His eyes rolled up in their sockets, and a wet dark patch stained the edge of the stair under his head.

Violet couldn't stop herself, even when she saw him losing consciousness in her hands. She wanted to drop his sweaty bleeding head and run from the house, but her body wouldn't stop slamming him down, lifting him up, and driving him down again. Each blow sent a sickening shudder through her body. How could she ever rid herself of this memory?

Cornell lapsed into hollow grunting underneath her and probably would have died on those stairs had Chuck not pulled Violet off him. Violet heard his voice in her ear, but she couldn't make out the words. Cornell's hair tore out in her clenched fists, but Chuck dragged her off him.

The same mindless shriek still poured out of her mouth, and she kicked and scratched at Chuck's hands and arms to get back at Cornell, but he held her until they retreated to the front door of the house.

Cornell rolled onto his side with a moan and lurched up into a sitting position. He tried to speak, but only a muffled growl of pain came out of his mouth. He leaned forward to get his feet under him, but fell back down onto the stairs. "You'll pay for this," he grumbled. "I'll get you for this."

" _We'll_ pay for this!" Violet screeched. " _You'll_ pay for this! You had your chance to stay on good terms with us and this is how you act! I would have stood as your friend through life and death, and this is how you treat me!"

"You'll live to regret this," Cornell rumbled through gritted teeth. "I'll see you thrown in jail for this, and I'll see your sweetheart there driven out of the territory."

Violet went still except for her hard panting breath. "You better pack your bags, Cornell. Come Friday morning, you'll never set foot in this house again, and if I never set eyes on your face for the rest of my life, it will be too soon."

She didn't hear his answer. Chuck pulled her the rest of the way out of the house and slammed the door behind them.

The lamplight of the front hall vanished behind them. The crisp night air and dreamy moonlight sealed the breach between the inner world of the house and the outside world of shadows and fantasies.

Violet gazed around her at the open range awash in crystal moonlight. All of a sudden, Chuck's hand enfolded hers, and she opened her eyes as if recognizing for the first time where she was. His touch, his presence, his essence grounded her and cleared her thoughts of everything that just happened.

"Are you okay?" Chuck asked.

Violet shuddered. Finally, she nodded. "I'm all right. How about you? You had a hard fall. I thought you might be hurt."

Chuck rubbed the back of his head. "I'm all right. I blacked out for a minute, and when I opened my eyes, he was trying to pull you up the stairs. I saw you hit him, and he knocked you over. The next thing I knew, you were beating the ever-loving tar outta that man." He shook his head. "Boy howdy! I wouldn't want to be him right now."

Violet stared down at her hands. Bloody hair was still tangled around her fingers. "I've never done anything like that before. You have to believe me. I don't know what happened to me. Something made me do it. I don't know what."

"You don't have to explain," Chuck told her. "I saw what happened. If it comes to explaining anything to anyone, we can both vouch for each other. He struck the first blow when he knocked me down. And you hit him in fear for your own safety. You attacked him only after he hit you back. It was all self defense."

"I don't know what on earth made Cornell act like that," Violet remarked. "I've never seen him so crazed."

Chuck cocked his head on one side. "No? Hasn't he ever done this sort of thing before?"

"Never!" Violet declared. "He's always been the most mild-mannered gentleman you could imagine. I just don't understand it."

Chuck rubbed his chin, and the two of them began walking away from the house, out onto the range. "I guess he was a mild-mannered gentleman as long as he had his way around here. As soon as you ladies started standing up to him, making your own decisions and telling him where to stick it if he didn't like it, he lost control. Sounds to me like the mild-mannered gentleman was just a mask he wore to hide his other side. This was the real Cornell we saw tonight."

"Don't say that!" Violet cried. "I just can't believe it! I've loved him and looked up to him all my life. I can't believe this is the real Cornell."

"How do you explain it, then?" Chuck asked

Violet shook her head again. "I can't explain it. Maybe he suffered a psychotic episode, or an attack of brain fever, or....or....I don't know, or anything."

Chuck gazed out over the pasture. "You might be right. But it doesn't change the fact that he attacked us. Whatever the cause, he's dangerous. We'll have to look out for ourselves and we have to warn the others about him. They could be in danger from him, too, if he's that worked up about us getting married against his wishes."

#  Chapter 24

They reached the corner of the fence where two pastures joined. Chuck leaned against the fence and turned his face up to the moon.

Violet sighed. "Thank you for what you did in there."

Chuck's eyes snapped back to her face. "What for? I didn't do anything."

"I mean," Violet explained. "For getting me out of there. I appreciate the way you stepped between Cornell and I, and I'm grateful you pulled me off of him when you did. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn't been there."

"You don't have to thank me," Chuck told her. "If I hadn't been there, none of this would have happened. Besides, you're the one who beat the stuffing out of him. I was lying on my face on the floor. Who knows what Cornell would have done if _you_ hadn't been there. I should be thanking you."

Violet giggled. "Do you really think so?"

"I tell you what," Chuck replied. "Let's forget all about it. We're here to get to know each other better before we get married on Friday. I thought we agreed we weren't going to talk about Cornell anymore, and that's exactly what we're doing. Let's just pretend like it never happened and go back to being happy to be together."

Violet looked up at the stars. "It isn't fair to you, but I don't think I can ever forget it. I wish I could. I wish I could pretend it never happened, but it did. I don't know what to do about it, but I don't think anything will ever be the same, especially after I told him to pack his bags. Now all of us are against Cornell. I was the last person to back him, and now I'm not. Things could get ugly."

Chuck took her hand and pulled her closer to him. "I hate to tell you this, darlin', but things are already ugly. He just attacked both of us, and you smashed his head against the stairs. It doesn't get any uglier than that."

"I suppose not." Violet said, and blinked the sting of tears out of her eyes.

Chuck pulled on her arm again. "Look at me."

Violet surveyed the ground at her feet. "I'm sorry about all this."

"Look at me," he commanded again, and this time, she peered into his eyes. The moon reflected off the shining surface of his eyes, and his nostrils flared not so very far from her face. "Listen to me, Violet."

Had he called her by her name before? Where were they, anyway? Were they in the middle of the pasture, with the Montana frontier stretched out for miles in every direction? Was she Violet Kilburn? Was she Violet Ahern? Did it really matter anymore?

"Listen to me," Chuck continued. "This was not your fault. You don't have to apologize for anything. You've done everything anyone could to stop this from happening, and what you just did to Cornell is the same thing any sane person would have done. I would have done it myself if he hadn't got the jump on me. If you ask me, you're a flamin' hero."

Violet burst out laughing and touched the corner of her sleeve to her eye. "Do you think so?"

"Absolutely," Chuck declared. "You saved both of us, and I'm delighted to find out what sort of a woman I'm going to marry."

"Really?" Violet squeezed his hand.

His mouth cracked into a broad grin, and the moon shone on the surface of his teeth. "Really. Now, honestly, can we stop talking about Cornell for just a little while? I didn't come out here to talk about him and I've had about all I can stand of him for now."

Violet laughed again. "Okay."

Chuck pushed himself off the fence. "Where should we go? Do you know a place we can sit down together?"

"I know a place," Violet told him.

"I hope it's not the barn," Chuck remarked. "Mick and Iris could be in there, or Jake and Rose, or even Mick and Iris and Jake and Rose." He pretended to look around the ranch. "Where can a person get off alone around here?"

"Don't worry," Violet assured him. "Where we're going, we will definitely be alone."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure," she replied.

"How can you be sure?" he asked.

"I'm just sure," she replied. "Trust me. No one will be there."

Chuck shook his head. "All right. I guess I have no choice but to trust you."

"No one will be there," she repeated. "But if they are, we can just go somewhere else. I can guarantee you, Mick and Iris and Jake and Rose will be together, wherever they are."

"That's for certain," Chuck muttered.

They came around the corner of the field, and the house swung around to the other side of them. Violet led Chuck a little further and then he looked right and left as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "Here?"

Violet smiled. "Yes."

"Are you certain?" he asked again.

"Listen," she told him. "No one will be in here. They'll be off together somewhere. They definitely won't be here, because they'll want to be alone. They'll be too worried about someone coming. They won't be here."

Chuck glanced up at the Fort House. Its windows stood cold and dark in the moonlight. The house was deserted. "All right. Let's go in."

#  Chapter 25

They tiptoed up the steps to the porch, and Violet opened the door. The interior yawned black and empty, and she took the first step into the front room. Chuck followed. Violet heard his breathing behind her. The house hung still and silent all around them, blocking out the light of the stars and moon. She took a few more steps and put out her hand to feel for the table.

When she felt it, she groped her way further into the house to the shelf next to the wood stove. She let her fingers walk along it until she found the box of matches that always stayed by the stove. She took out a match and struck it. Just next to the matches, a candle stood in a pewter candleholder. She touched the delicate flame to the wick, and a fragile halo of light spread through the room.

Violet took the candle back to the table. The light cast ghostly shadows around Chuck's eye sockets and cheekbones. He breathed again in the dark. "It sure is quiet," he whispered.

Violet snickered. "You wanted to be alone. Now we are." They listened to the heavy silence. A square of white shone onto the floor through the open door. Other than that, only the candle lighted the room. Violet took Chuck's hand. "Come sit down. I'll light another candle or two so we can see better. But I don't think there's any chance of Mick or Jake coming back here, not for a while, anyway."

She led him into the room and showed him to the settee by the stairs. Then she shut the door and went back to the kitchen. She came back with two more candles and set them on the shelf next to the settee. At last, she settled herself next to Chuck.

She took his hand again. "So," she breathed. "Here we are."

"Here we are," he replied.

Another long silence filled the room. They both breathed heavily, and their breath mingled between their two faces. Did her own face look as vacuous and hollow as his did? The surreal light lent a magical mystery to the moment.

Everything she knew or ever learned about the way men and women acted together when they found themselves alone vanished from her memory. The house, her family, and all the laws and conventions of propriety meant nothing now. Nothing separated her from this man. Nothing prevented her from giving herself to him, from belonging to him.

A slight pressure reminded her they were still holding hands. What happened next? "So what do you want to do, now that we're alone together?"

He didn't answer. He shifted her hand to his other free hand, and placed the other one on her shoulder. Then he slid his arm around her shoulder and drew her to him. She smelled the meat on his breath from the supper table. Other smells of him filled her nostrils with the bloom of the range. The smells of horse, and leather, and dust hung around him like a perfume. She knew those smells. She knew the man who carried those smells. He could be no other.

The candle light shone in his eyes. He leaned forward, and his lips grazed against hers. The warmth of his mouth melted the chill of the night from her face and rippled down her neck. She never tasted any wine as strong as his kiss.

He pulled back to look at her in the candlelight, and their breath joined in the still air between them. His lips landed on her mouth again, lingering, feeling the soft welcome she gave them. Then he pulled back again. "It's going to be a long wait until Friday."

"But worth it," she pointed out.

"So, so worth it." Again, his butterfly kiss breathed its warmth into her lips. Her lips flamed with excitement, and her heart raced in her chest.

"I didn't think it would be like this," she told him.

"What did you think it would be like?" he asked.

"We got you men to run the ranch," she reminded him. "I didn't think I would feel this way about you. I didn't really think about it at all. But when I did, I didn't think I would feel anything much for you. I thought it would be more of a business arrangement between us."

His eyes bored into her in the dark. "I guess I thought the same sort of thing. I didn't think it would be like this, either. I thought we would probably keep our distance, at least right at the start. I didn't think we'd just fall into place together, like we were made for each other."

"I know!" Violet breathed. "I feel like I'm coming home after being away for a long time, or that I'm finding out who I am for the first time. I don't know how to explain it."

"I know what you mean," Chuck replied. "All that silly nonsense about the prince and princess falling in love at first sight and living happily ever after really is true after all. I never would have believed it if it hadn't happened to me."

So he felt it, too. "Do you think the others feel this way?"

Chuck nodded. "From what I've seen of the way they're acting, I'd say they are. All of us are walking around with our heads in the clouds. I saw the way Mick and Jake acted on the train. Believe me, they feel this way, too. I guess you've seen it in your sisters."

"I have," Violet confirmed. "Rose was always in the clouds, but I've never seen her act toward anyone the way she's acting with Jake. The two of them just sit there and stare into each other's eyes for hours. I don't think they took their eyes off each other once on the trip back from Butte."

"I noticed that," Chuck replied. "And Mick and Iris both go all shy and smiling when they look at each other. I'm telling you, I don't think Mick smiled once from Santa Fe all the way to Butte. I rode with him pretty much all the way, and talked to him, so I know. And he sure wasn't shy."

#  Chapter 26

She hesitated. "Do you think...."

"What?" he asked.

"You said you talked to Mick on the train," she began. "Do you think he might be....dangerous?"

"Mick!" Chuck exclaimed. "No way! What makes you think that?"

"I don't know," Violet faltered. "It's just the way he beat that man up at the train station. I guess it's just my first impression of him. And then the way he got out his guns when we first arrived here. It made my blood run cold to watch him."

Chuck thought the matter over. "I don't think he's dangerous. He acted pretty normal on the trip up here. He didn't beat anyone up or shoot anyone, although he was wearing a gun belt the whole time. You know how it is."

"It isn't that," Violet replied. "I've seen men wearing guns and carrying rifles around all my life. And I've seen men getting into fights, too. Why, you can't set foot in the town of Butte without seeing someone getting mauled in the street. But Mick is different."

"Different, how?" Chuck asked. "He seems like your regular ol' cowboy to me."

"I know you're right," Violet replied. "He just seems like kind of a violent brute to me."

"I'm wearing a gun belt," Chuck pointed out. "And so is Jake. He wasn't wearing it on the train, but he is now."

"I know he is." Violet shivered at the memory of Jake strapping his guns on.

"What's wrong now?" Chuck asked.

"Jake," she told him. "Something about him makes my blood run cold, too."

"What? Not Jake, too! Now I know you're not thinkin' straight. Jake's the sharpest, shrewdest, straightest tack in the box. You take my word for it. I don't think I've met a man in my life who's as clear-headed and straight-dealin' as Jake Hamilton. You should be glad your sister's marrying him. I wish mine was."

"Do you think so?" she asked.

"Listen," he told her. "I talked to Jake a lot on the train out here, and I think I have a pretty good idea what sort of man he is. That Mick McAllister, he's a regular brick. He's solid and decent and hard-working. He's the salt of the earth. But that Jake Hamilton, he's another class of man altogether."

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"He's fine," Chuck replied. "I don't know how else to explain it, but he's pure and clear and fine. You know what he reminds me of? He reminds me of iron that has been smelted and beaten and refined and poured into a mold to make a clear strong bell. You can beat it until you're blue in the face, and it will just keep ringing the purest, clearest note you can imagine. It doesn't bend, or break, or crack, or move when you beat it. It just keeps ringing. You probably think I've lost my mind, talking like this."

Violet squeezed his hand. "No. but it's a lot to say about a person."

"It's true," Chuck told her. "You'll see."

"I guess I just don't know him," Violet remarked.

"You'll get to know him," Chuck replied. "And then you'll see that I'm right. You'll see I'm right about him and Mick. I'm just glad I'm out here with them. You won't find two better men the world over."

"I'm glad you think so," Violet told him. "If you think so, I'm prepared to believe it."

"That's the way!" he exclaimed. "Besides, your sisters sure do seem to like 'em."

"That's the truth," Violet replied. "I don't think I've seen either Rose or Iris act this way around anyone before. They can't stop smiling and going red in the face."

"And Jake and Mick act the same way," Chuck pointed out. "I guess we're acting that way, too, come to think of it."

"It sounds like all of us are lovestruck," Violet remarked.

Chuck moved closer. "I know I am."

He kissed her again, and this time, he caressed her cheek in his other hand. Violet let her head fall against his palm, and he cradled her in his arms. Oh, to drift away on that swaying stream of bliss! Soon, soon, she would ride away on it into a sea of forgotten harmony and never give a second thought to anything else.

Before she knew it, the kiss turned into something else entirely. Chuck's breath quickened, and he pressed his lips more firmly against her mouth, more insistently, more commandingly. It only seemed natural to open her mouth slightly to accommodate the additional pressure, and when she did, his tongue darted in and tickled hers.

A fork of lightning shot through her and rocked her to her core. Instead of drifting away on a sea of bliss, she jerked upright and almost tore herself out of his arms. Chuck immediately withdrew, and his eyes sought her out in the yellow light. "We shouldn't go too far. We have a long way to go before we're married."

Violet nodded mutely. What a fool she was! Why had she reacted that way? Didn't she long to give herself to him? Didn't she dream day and night of nothing else? What if he turned away from her? What if her sudden repulsion disappointed him and he changed his mind about marrying her? Had she thrown away her future on this man? She only just met him! Who was he that she should give herself to him?

The thought of separating from him struck her with grief and misery. Oh, please, don't let it be! Don't let him cast her away, not after all they'd been through that day! Was it only today she'd met him at the station? Was it only today Cornell threatened to cut her off? Was it only today she nearly cracked his head open on the stairs for raising his hand against Chuck?

#  Chapter 27

Chuck studied her. But he didn't take his arms away from her the way she feared he would. In fact, he didn't withdraw from her at all except to stop kissing her. "It's gonna be awful hard to wait until Friday. Maybe we shouldn't sneak off alone together anymore."

"Why not?" Violet asked. "Don't you want me anymore?"

"Sure, I want to," Chuck replied. "But if we're gonna do things we shouldn't—or almost do things we shouldn't—then maybe we shouldn't go off alone. That's all I'm sayin'. It would be like a refined form of torture, to be so close to you and not be able to touch you and kiss you."

"But...." Violet stammered. "But....but....I want to."

His head flew up. "You want to what?"

"I want to be alone with you," Violet exclaimed. "We don't have to get carried away with anything. That's not what I mean. But I want to go off alone with you. I've waited all this time for you to come, and now you're here. I don't think I could stand it if we didn't. I don't think I could stand to stay apart from you for the next three days."

Chuck smiled. "All right. We'll do it. But let's just stick to the basics—holding hands and maybe kissing. Promise me we won't get all hot and heavy before we're married."

Violet smiled. "I promise. We'll keep calm."

They kissed again, and again, and again, but calmly and tenderly. Violet rocked in her feather-soft cradle, all her cares forgotten.

"What's going on tomorrow," Chuck inquired.

"What do you mean?" Violet asked.

"Do you have anything planned?" he asked. "Any plans for getting ready for the wedding?"

"I don't think so," she replied. "Like Iris told you at supper, Rita's making the cake. Everything else is done. Our dresses, the parlor—it's all ready. We just have to wait for the minister to get here. What about you? What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I guess I'll just have a look around," Chuck told her. "I'll ride out and have a look at the stock. I might talk to your hands about the operation. That sort of thing."

"You could talk to Iris, too," Violet suggested. "She knows as much as anyone about what's going on."

Chuck looked away. "I might."

"You really can trust her," Violet insisted. "Even though she's a woman, she really does know a lot about running the ranch."

"I never said she didn't," Chuck replied.

Violet saw him set his jaw and dropped the subject of Iris.

"Mick and Jake are going out hunting tomorrow," Chuck observed.

"That's what they said," Violet replied.

"If they haven't left by the time I finish looking around, I might go with them," Chuck told her.

Violet lowered her head. "Okay."

"I guess it's time to walk you home," Chuck remarked. "The others'll be coming back soon."

"I guess so," Violet replied.

"Come on." He got up off the settee.

"I can find my own way back," she told him. "You don't have to come. You could stay here. That would help fool the others."

He peered at her in the candlelight. "I don't think they need any foolin'. They know very well what's goin' on."

"I guess you're right," she replied. "But you don't have to walk me back if you don't want to. I can find my way."

"What if you meet Cornell again?" he asked.

"I think he'll stay out of our way from now on," she told him.

"You mean you _hope_ he does," Chuck shot back.

"I hope he does," Violet agreed. "For his sake, I hope he does. You know, I feel kind of sorry for him. He just doesn't understand that he's outmatched now. He's still fighting with the same weapons he used when we were children. He doesn't understand that we're grown women now. And now that you men are here, he doesn't stand a chance."

"He's a blasted fool, is what he is," Chuck grumbled.

"He'll just keep throwing himself at us until he breaks himself," Violet continued. "And he'll do it all because he just doesn't understand."

"He doesn't want to understand," Chuck corrected her. "Jake is right. There's no reasoning with a man like that. Once he loses control of himself, the only thing to do is to get rid of him."

Violet stared into the darkness. "I only wish it hadn't come to that."

Chuck regarded her. "Jake was right about you, too."

"In what way?" she asked.

"He was right about you thinking everyone is like you," Chuck explained. "You know what I think? I think you're probably the most innocent of the three of you."

"Innocent!" she snorted.

"That's right, innocent," Chuck repeated. "You wish it hadn't come to that, but he made it come to that. You did everything you could to prevent it, but he just wouldn't quit until it did come to that. You let him walk all over you for too long. That's why he thought he could get away with man-handling you and making you do what he wanted."

Violet thought it over. "Do you want to know something else?"

"What's that?" he asked.

"I don't think I would have reacted the way I did if he hadn't struck out at you," she told him. "I only went after him when I saw him strike you. Something in me wanted to protect you from him. I don't think I ever would have done it to protect myself. If I'd been alone, I probably would have let him drag me to my room."

"He wouldn't have dragged you to your room if you weren't with me," Chuck reminded her.

"But you know what I mean," Violet insisted. "I snapped, because of the way I feel about you."

"And what is that?" Chuck asked. "How do you feel about me?"

Violet stepped closer to him and put her arms around his waist. "I guess I love you. I did it because I love you."

"You do?" Chuck asked.

"I shouldn't be telling you this," Violet remarked. "I only met you a few hours ago. Is it possible to love someone in such a short time?"

"I don't know," he told her. "I've never loved anyone before. But I know I love you now. I've never been so certain of anything before."

"Me, too," she replied.

#  Chapter 28

"All right, I love you" Chuck moved toward the door. "Now, let me walk you home before we fall asleep here."

"Stay here," Violet insisted. "If the others come, you being in here already will explain the candles being lit."

"I'm telling you," Chuck repeated. "We don't need to bother trying to fool them. They already know, just like we already know about them. What's the point of trying to keep it a secret?"

"Just call it my female sense of propriety," Violet explained. "If you need a reason, just let me maintain the illusion a little while longer before my maidenhead goes whistling down the wind and I become Mrs. Charles Q. Ahern."

Chuck chuckled. "It isn't 'Q'. It's 'J'."

" 'J'?" Violet asked. "What does that stand for?"

" 'Julius'," he told her.

Violet guffawed. " 'Julius'!"

"That's right." Chuck stiffened. "What's wrong with that?"

Violet laughed even harder. "Julius!"

Chuck furrowed his eyebrows. "You can stop that now."

Violet covered her mouth with her hand, but her giggles still bubbled up from inside her. "I'm sorry."

"You are not!" Chuck barked. "Now stop that this instant! I won't have you calling me Julius! Now stop it!"

Violet bit her lip. "I'm sorry."

"Now get home," Chuck pointed toward the door. "And don't make me have to tell you again."

Violet rushed up to him and kissed him. When she pulled away, he broke out in a grin. "Go on. I'll see you in the morning."

She kissed him again. "Good night."

Their lips just wouldn't come apart, no matter how hard they tried. "Good night. Now get out of here. You're torturing me."

She flashed him a glorious smile and hurried out the door before she raced back to him and threw herself into his arms again. He kissed her once and pushed her away. "Go! Leave me alone!"

She left. She ran down the hill, but when she reached the corner of the fence, she stopped. She didn't want to go back to the house just yet. For one thing, she wanted to wait as long as possible to make sure Cornell wasn't waiting there for her. The last thing in the world she wanted was to run into him again.

She also wasn't finished walking in the moonlight. She came outside to walk in the open air, and she hadn't had a chance when she decided to take Chuck back to the Fort House. She wasn't tired yet. In spite of her long day, she wanted to stay out a little longer. The air cleared her thoughts and refreshed her aching heart.

What a day it had been! It started with her first confrontation with Cornell, followed by the trip to Butte, her first meeting with Chuck and the other two men, and now the final run-in with Cornell. This would go down as one of the most challenging days of her life.

Yet Violet couldn't fault herself for any of her actions, not even smashing Cornell's head into the stairs. She'd merely delivered the final result of all his provocations. She hadn't retaliated at all when he harassed her endlessly about her decision to marry a mail-order husband. She'd barely reacted at all when he threatened to disown not only her, but her sisters as well, if they went through with their plan. And she only lashed out at him violently when he attacked first Chuck and then her.

She strode along the fence line, but she didn't see the stars or the moon. Her mind only rolled over and over all the events of the day. She relived the memory of seeing Mick McAllister brawling in the streets, assaulting a man and taking back his rightful property. She relived her fear and foreboding at going into the hotel saloon to find Jake.

Chuck's description of his two comrades conflicted so deeply with her impressions of them that Violet wondered if he might be mistaken. Maybe they took him in with their talk and good manners. A person could act as politely as he wanted to in a quiet train car. Get him out on the street and he might behave quite differently.

What if Rose and Iris married dangerous men, but only found out their true nature after it was too late? What if Cornell was right about them being wanted outlaws?

And now this final experience of loving Chuck, of the wild insanity of falling into his arms forever. Just thinking about it, remembering his touch and the comforting intimacy of their conversation, sent her spinning out among the stars. Would she ever return to earth again?

Just imagine what would happen on their wedding night, when nothing remained to bring her back! She could discard all the social inhibitions tying her down to the ground and dive head first into him. She could discard this stiff proper body, shedding her skin like a lizard. The confining strictures of self and society would fall away, and she would be pure, unadulterated being.

She could hardly contain her excitement when she thought about it. She felt herself approaching the precipice of annihilation again, and she shook herself to regain her composure. Chuck was right. A few days was a long time to wait.

How stupid all those rules were! How stupid the whole concept of marriage was! Why couldn't they just live like savages and go home together? They knew they loved each other. They knew they wanted to live together and give themselves to each other. Why not?

Violet stopped at the corner of the fence where Chuck leaned against the top rail. From here, she could see all the range land for a long way around. The moon illuminated the landscape so it shone as bright as daylight.

Was that a black shadow slinking along the back hill and slithering down toward the main house? Was it a coyote, or a person running in a crouch?

The refreshing breeze that just bathed her burning cheeks and forehead turned into a cutting wind, and Violet wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm. She started toward the house. Her bed waited for her in her own room. She could rest there. Tomorrow, she would face another exciting day with Chuck.

In spite of fatigue and emotional distress, she slowed to a reluctant walk on the way back. Just a little while longer...

#  Chapter 29

All of a sudden, a thunderous bang shattered the tranquil night. Violet jumped out of her skin. Another crash rang out, followed by another. A corresponding flash lighted up a window in the house at every bang, and the thud of pounding footsteps scurried through the house.

Violet started toward the house, but stopped. Should she go in and find out what was going on? Could those be gunshots coming from inside the house? If they were, it might be dangerous to go inside. She turned one way, then another, started across the yard, and stopped again.

She just started walking a third time when a figure ran down the hill from the Fort House. The person almost ran straight into Violet, and only skidded to a halt when she called out, "Chuck!"

He peered at her in the moonlight. "Violet! Thank God you're all right!"

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I heard shots coming from the house," he told her. "I thought Cornell might have got you."

"Shots?" she asked. "Were those gun shots, do you think?"

"I'm sure of it," he replied. "Three of them. Something's going on in there."

"Do you think it's safe to go in?" Violet asked. "I was going to find out what's going on, but it might be dangerous. Whoever's shooting in there could still be shooting people."

"Who would be shooting people?" Chuck asked. "Who's in there? Your sisters, Rita, maybe Cornell. Who would be shooting?"

Violet glanced toward the house. "I don't know. But maybe we shouldn't go in."

"You stay here. I'll go in and see what's happening." Chuck turned away.

"Wait." She caught his arm. "Don't leave. If you're going in there, I'm coming with you."

"Like you say," he replied. "It could be dangerous. You saw the way Cornell lost his head before. Maybe this is the other shoe dropping. He could be shooting the whole place up. He could be killing everyone in sight."

"I'm not staying out here alone while you go in there," Violet snapped. "No way! If anyone's going in there, we're going together. We faced Cornell together before, and we'll face him together now."

Chuck stared at her through the gloom. "All right. Come on." He took her hand and they started toward the house together.

The house loomed huge and black in the eerie light, and when they stepped up onto the porch, the darkness blocked them in so they clung to each other and groped their way into the front hall. They panted for breath, neither of them willing to take the next step without holding tight to the other.

Chuck shut the door behind them with a soft click, and they paused in the front hall, listening to their own breathing and the echoing silence all around them.

"Wait a minute," Violet whispered.

She tore her hands away from him and groped her way to the hall table, where she lit a candle. They took each other's hands again.

"The shots," Chuck breathed. "Did you hear where they came from?"

"I didn't hear it," she told him. "But there was a flash of light, three of them, one for each shot, coming from the library. I saw them through the window."

"All right," he replied. "Let's check in there."

"Chuck," she whispered.

"Yes?" he asked.

"The library," she panted.

"What about it?" he asked.

"The library's Cornell's office," she whispered. "He has his desk in there."

He stared into her eyes in the candlelight. "Does he have guns in there? Does he keep a gun in his desk?"

Violet glanced toward the door to the library. "I don't think so. I never saw him with a gun in my life. He thinks guns are for criminals and working men. He thinks he's too good for all that."

Chuck sneered. "I'll bet he does. Well, I have my side arms here. We aren't totally unprotected. Come on."

They fumbled their way to the library door and slid it open as silently as they could. The interior of the room spread before them into a bottomless black chasm. Even with their candle extended in front of them, they couldn't see a thing.

They tiptoed over the threshold and the candlelight cast a watery outline of Cornell's desk in the far corner. No one sat behind it. The rest of the room stood empty. Not a whisker stirred in the whole house.

"Maybe it was nothing," Violet whispered.

"Nothing?" Chuck whispered back. "We just heard three gun shots. Someone shot them and they shot them at someone. I'd say that's something."

"Just a moment," Violet replied. "I'll light the lamp. Then we can see better. We'll have to search the rest of the house just to make sure no one's hurt. I hope Iris and Rose are all right."

She went to the desk and stepped behind it to reach for the lamp on the shelf. She almost pitched over onto her face as her foot struck something solid behind the chair. She bent down to remove the obstruction.

Then she screamed.

"What's wrong?" Chuck asked.

"It's Cornell!" she gasped.

"What about him?" Chuck asked.

"He's lying on the floor back here." Violet bent down and took a closer look with her candle. "He's been shot in the head." She took a closer look. "And at least once in the chest, too."

"Oh, no!" Chuck rushed to her side and they inspected Cornell together. "What are we going to do?"

Violet stood up. Deep inside her, a window opened that she never knew was there, and a bright vista exposed itself to her view. "There's nothing to do. He's dead."

Cornell was gone. All these years, he'd taken charge of her life and the lives of her sisters. He'd told them what to wear, what to eat, who to talk to, and even what to think. Cornell decided who Violet Kilburn was. She never had to question who she was or what made her what she was, because Cornell always did that for her. Now he was gone.

Her parents' deaths hadn't affected her much because she was so young. She didn't even really understand when her parents died. But she always feared Cornell's death. She worried she wouldn't know who she was or what she ought to do once he no longer made those decisions for her.

Now she found out who she was and what she ought to do for the first time in her life. She found out that, with Cornell gone, she was in charge. Everything rested on her shoulders. She saw her future and the future of the ranch laid out before her like a magnificent banquet with herself as the guest of honor. She knew what to do, and she would rise to the challenge.

Another patter of footsteps resounded through the house, and the library door opened a little further. Iris and Rose put their faces into the halo of candlelight. "Violet?" Iris whispered. "Violet, is that you?"

"I'm here, Iris," she replied in a regular voice. "You don't need to whisper. There's no danger anymore."

"Are you sure?" Iris whispered.

"I'm sure." Violet set the candle down on Cornell's desk and took the glass chimney off the lamp. "You can come in."

She lighted the lamp, and the room filled with light. The next minute, Mick and Jake appeared in the doorway. "What's goin' on in here?" Mick asked.

"Cornell's been shot," Violet told him.

"By who?" he asked.

"I don't know," Violet replied.

"Well, that's a fine how do you do," he exclaimed. "What are we going to do?"

"I would appreciate it, Mick," Violet replied, "if you would go out to the bunk house and wake up Pete Kershaw. Please ask him to saddle up and ride down to Butte and bring back the sheriff. There's nothing else we can do."

"The sheriff!" Iris cried. "Shouldn't we get the doctor?"

"There's no need to," Violet replied. "Cornell's dead."

Iris screamed, but no one paid any attention.

"Are you sure?" Mick asked.

"Half of his head is gone," Violet shot back. "I'm sure he's dead. Now please go and send Pete for the sheriff. If the sheriff finds out we delayed at all in sending for him, it won't look good."

"I'm goin'." Mick disappeared.

"What are we going to do with Cornell?" Iris asked.

"We can't do anything with him until the sheriff's seen him," Violet replied. "He'll have to see exactly where the body was found and examine the scene. That's the way it is when a person is killed."

Chuck raised an eyebrow at her. Did he notice the change in her? "You sound like you know from experience."

"It only makes sense," Violet replied. "Ask Jake if you don't believe me. You can't go moving a dead body around before the sheriff gives you permission to do so. Once he's seen Cornell and examined the room and everything else, I'm sure he'll give us permission to bury him."

Iris choked back a cry. "Bury Cornell! I never thought I'd live to see the day!"

"He wasn't exactly young, you know," Violet reminded her.

Mick came back in. "Pete's going now. Well, this certainly puts a different spin on the idea of getting rid of him."

Violet straightened her shoulders. "I wouldn't joke about it, Mick, if I was you. I'm sure the sheriff will have some hard questions for all of us."

"What do you mean?" Iris asked.

"It's very simple, Iris dear." Violet searched the faces around her. "Someone in this room is a murderer."

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 "Historical cowboy romance box set" so I'll know whether you liked it or not.

#  Recommended books

Westward Dance (Montana Mail Order Brides: Book 2) by Linda Bridey

Iris's Mail Order Husband (Montana Brides: Book 2) by Kate Whitsby

#  Connect With Linda Bridey

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#  Connect with Kate Whitsby

Favorite me on Smashwords: CLICK HERE

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