The Rancher's Mail-Order Bride Read online

  “So, what do you say? Will you stay? We can start at church tomorrow. Let you meet folks. Take your time. Fall in love face-to-face rather than settle for some out-of-focus picture of an old cowboy who’s set in his ways and not likely to change.” His eyes telegraphed apology.

  She could have told him it was too late to change emotional gears. She’d already fallen in love with her cowboy. Wyatt Malone.

  He had a valid point about Ian, though. Her son had been uprooted too many times in his young life, both emotionally as well as physically. Perhaps she could go along with Wyatt’s crazy plan.

  But put a different spin on it.

  “You said your sister was in Alaska. At least take the month you’d already settled on. Think of it as a vacation.”

  Her pride did balk at this. “No—”

  He barreled right over her attempted objection. “You don’t have to give up your dream. You can practice on my ranch. Even plant a garden. You said you wanted a garden, remember? And I’ll teach you about those animals like Ozzie promised you I would.”

  She found herself smiling. Maybe it wasn’t so farfetched. He seemed to be going out of his way to convince her. Was it all motivated by guilt? And only meant to be short-term?

  Or could he actually have a seed of caring for her, a tiny kernel that he couldn’t see just yet, but could grow with a little care and nurturing and prodding?

  That possibility was what had her nodding her head, agreeing to let him become her matchmaker.

  While Wyatt Malone was scoping out suitable cowboys for her to marry, she would do her best to make him fall in love with her.

  It was a gamble, undoubtedly an uphill battle. But she was up to the task.

  She’d crossed five states for this man, and she wasn’t going to give him up without a fight—be it fair or otherwise.

  HANNAH WAS going to have a serious talk with that rooster. The silly bird couldn’t quite seem to figure out when dawn was imminent. He started in around 3:00 a.m. and kept right on crowing, obviously figuring he’d get it right eventually.

  Problem was, a person couldn’t get a decent night’s sleep.

  Blurry-eyed, she stumbled down to the kitchen. She’d kill for a cup of coffee. Never mind about the report she’d read that had advised expectant mothers to go easy on caffeine. The final verdict wasn’t in. It was probably a rumor started by some killjoy naturalist or something.

  One cup wouldn’t hurt, and it would at least get her functioning—which she wasn’t at the moment due to that horrible chicken. Maybe they could cook him.

  She had the coffee pot in her hand and nearly dropped it when the back door opened.

  Wyatt, looking exactly like every one of her cowboy fantasies, walked in and came to a sudden halt as though he’d slammed into a brick wall.

  Pot suspended over a mug like a thief caught with her hands on the family silver, she cleared her throat. “It’s just one cup,” she defended.

  His dark brows rose, lifting his hat. Lord that was sexy.

  “I didn’t say anything.” His grin was slow and frankly male. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

  “As a matter of fact…how do you feel about a little rifle instruction using that senile rooster as the target?”

  “Hannah, Hannah. Such thoughts on a Sunday morning.”

  She inhaled the rich aroma of strong black coffee, smiled into her cup and sipped, nearly moaning in delight. “Did you make this?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s wonderful.” She noted the dirt smudging his cheek and crusting at the knees of his jeans. He looked like he’d been crawling through the mud. “Speaking of Sunday, weren’t we going to church?”

  “Yes.”

  “Looks like you’ve been working.”

  “I have. Ranching’s a seven-day-a-week job. The animals have to be fed, chores seen to.”

  “Oh.” And if she intended to be a rancher’s wife, she’d need to know these things, be prepared and able to help out. She considered herself a quick study. “What time do services start?”

  “Ten.”

  “Then I’ll get breakfast started.”

  “You don’t have to cook. I told you, you should treat this like a vacation.”

  “It’s not a vacation. It’s a way of life that I desperately want. And I’m an excellent cook.”

  He hesitated. “You’ll spoil me and then go off and cook for some other lucky guy.”

  Not if she could help it. “So enjoy the pampering while it’s being offered.”

  He nodded. “I’ll go get cleaned up. Don’t run yourself short of time. It takes about half an hour or so to get to the church.” He hesitated, took off his hat, ran the brim between his fingers. “We should probably start even earlier than that. Give us a chance to check out the congregation, introduce you around.”

  Find her a husband.

  THE CHURCH WAS just as she’d pictured it. White wood siding, narrow steps leading up to double doors, a steeple reaching toward the endless blue sky, stained glass shining in the morning sun. Budding flowers outlined a verdant lawn of spring grass.

  People milled by the front door, shaking hands and slapping one another on the back, no doubt catching up with the latest news from their friends.

  A little girl in a sunny-yellow dress and shiny Mary Janes ran toward a tire swing hanging from an old cottonwood tree, but was called back by her father. Looking crestfallen, yet obedient, she turned around, then snagged a happy pansy and stuck it in her mink-colored hair, dancing around her father like a mischievous puppy.

  Wyatt opened the truck door and held out a hand to help Hannah down. “Relax,” he said. “You look beautiful.” The pale-pink sweater skimmed her hips, nearly disguising the pregnancy. She looked fresh and innocent—and she appeared startled by his comment.

  She ducked her head. “Thank you.”

  “What’s that look for? Surely you’ve gotten compliments before?” Changing his mind, he bypassed her hand and lifted her down from the truck, setting her on her feet in front of him.

  She sucked in a breath, her gaze slamming to his before skittering away. He’d caught her off guard. Her cheeks took on a charming glow. With that complexion she couldn’t hide much.

  “I’ve been married for the past six years and only divorced for four months. I guess compliments are a bit of a novelty.”

  He stared as though she were speaking a different language and she felt the need to elaborate. “According to my ex, I’d never be skinny enough because my hips are too big.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  She shook her head.

  “A strong wind would blow you away.”

  “Oh, now, let’s not exaggerate.”

  He wasn’t. She was voluptuous on top—thanks in part to her pregnancy, he suspected. But her hips were not wide. “Believe me, I’m not. Those city guys might want to drape an arm over a stick, but around here a man appreciates a woman with curves. It’s sexy.” He reached in the back seat of the truck and unbuckled Ian’s seat belt. “Let’s go get preached to, partner.”

  “I c-could preach. I go to Sunday school, and we learned verses. But Jimmy ate the stars and frew up, a-and it stinked!”

  “Ate the stars?” Wyatt asked, confused.

  “Stickers they get for each Bible verse they learned,” Hannah said absently, still rehashing and basking in his comment about curves. Some of her curves were sticking out in the wrong directions, but by darn, she was certain Wyatt Malone had just told her she was sexy!

  “Ah. Sticker stars.”

  “Do they got k-kids here to play wif?” Ian hopped up and down like he had to pee or something.

  Wyatt asked him as much and Ian went into gales of laughter. “No, silly!”

  “Well,” Wyatt said to Hannah when she grinned at him. “He looks like he does.”

  “He’s got a lot of energy.” Hannah put a hand on her son’s head. “Slow down, buddy. We’re here to listen to a sermon, not play.�
�� Besides, according to the ad Ozzie had run, women and children were in short supply.

  She frowned and squeezed Wyatt’s arm. “Did Ozzie run ads for any of the other men in town, or just you?”

  “Just me.” He lowered his head, the brim of his hat shading his eyes. “At least for the bride thing. Evidently they ran some general invitations for women to come for a visit and plan to stay a while.”

  “I’m not going to be the only woman here, am I?” She glanced around the churchyard, relieved to see that although men were the majority, there were indeed women.

  “No. Those four old musketeers as we like to call them, exaggerated. There are other women here. But they’re mostly older, I guess. Or already married.”

  “The little girl over there looks about Ian’s age.” Hannah pointed to the one decorating herself with pansies.

  “That’s Stony Stratton’s daughter. Actually, she’s his goddaughter who he’s raising. And you’re right. I think Nikki’s about five.”

  She saw the calculating look that came over Wyatt, and wondered if he was considering Stony as a matchmaking prospect. She didn’t comment or encourage.

  It hurt that Wyatt was so anxious to get rid of her. Then she thought back to how he’d worked so hard to convince her to stay on his ranch. He hadn’t offered to haul her into town and put her up at the local hotel.

  That gave her hope. She’d have to play it by ear, watch his reactions as she interacted with the church congregation—especially the males.

  That would tell her a lot.

  A young man wearing a Western suit and shiny boots came toward them, a wide smile on his handsome face. “Wyatt! Good to see you. And this must be Hannah and Ian.”

  Did everybody know who she was? Hannah felt the heat of embarrassment scald her face. Would these people think she was some kind of loser, a woman who couldn’t get a decent man on her own so she had to resort to mail-order-bride ads?

  The man took Hannah’s hand in both of his. “I’m Dan Lucas. The guy who prays over most of these sorry cowboys’ souls.”

  “Oh. Pleased to meet you Pastor Lucas.” This was a preacher? He didn’t look like any man of the cloth that she’d ever seen. He was handsome, early to mid-thirties, with just enough flirtatiousness in his eyes to make a woman’s heart pump a little harder.

  She felt Wyatt’s sleeve brush her arm and noticed that he was frowning, practically standing on top of her.

  “You three go on in and find a seat. But not in the back row,” he admonished with a look at Wyatt. “And don’t run off after the service. Vera and Iris have fixed up enough chicken and potato salad to feed the entire county. Hannah and Ian are our guests of honor.”

  “Oh, thank you. You all shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”

  “What trouble? We’ll use just about any excuse to eat and fellowship around here. Plus the ladies like to keep their hand in—a sort of practice for weddings and such.” The pastor’s eyes gleamed with pure anticipation.

  “I’m sure you’ve got other parishioners to greet,” Wyatt said, putting a hand at Hannah’s waist and urging her forward. “We’ll see you after the sermon.”

  Pastor Dan laughed. “Pay close attention. We’ll be discussing Noah and his part in repopulating the world.”

  Wyatt ran a hand down his face then paused and peered through his index and middle finger as the preacher gave a wink and a jaunty wave.

  Hannah nearly laughed. When they were out of earshot of the preacher, she said, “He was teasing you, right?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “I’m not real sure. And I don’t know why the heck they decided to pick on me.” He glanced down at her. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” She smiled. That spark of possessiveness he’d displayed when the preacher had held her hand gave her a great deal of hope.

  And though she felt a bit like she was in the hot seat, that the whole congregation would be speculating over her, she decided that this day just might be interesting and telling.

  “HEY, THERE, California.”

  Wyatt’s brows slammed down. The man standing in front of them with his blond good looks and lady-killer smile was what he imagined most women would consider male perfection. Add in the guy’s fortune and he’d be considered a pretty good catch.

  Wyatt didn’t even consider him in the running.

  “Ethan Callahan, meet Hannah Richmond. And quit drooling in her fried chicken, would you?”

  Ethan cocked a brow as if to say ‘what’s up?’ and for no good reason, Wyatt wanted to deck him. He heaped more potato salad on his plate instead.

  “Welcome to Shotgun Ridge, Hannah. And I assure you, I don’t drool.”

  Hannah laughed and Wyatt scowled even more. Couldn’t she see that the guy was nothing more than a playboy, flirt? Despite the fact that Ethan Callahan was one of Wyatt’s best friends, he wasn’t the right man for Hannah.

  Man, this matchmaking thing was going to be more difficult than he’d expected. There were so many factors to consider.

  He’d brought her to church to introduce her around, begin the campaign to find her a husband. To do right by her, correct the wrong perpetrated by Ozzie—however well intended.

  The problem was, he hadn’t counted on his reaction. It almost felt like jealousy, which was absurd. He had no intention of keeping her, of marrying her. Hell, she’d blown into his life, been sprung on him, actually. Nobody in their right mind—Ozzie, Lloyd, Vern, and Henry aside—would expect him to go through with the plan.

  A blind date was one thing.

  A mail-order bride was quite another.

  Still, he couldn’t just turn her away when all her possessions were in a U-Haul trailer and her sister wasn’t due back for a month. She wanted life on a ranch. And he wanted to get that for her.

  But she’d had a rough time of it, what with her lousy husband stepping out on her and all—and there were still parts of that story that he was highly curious about.

  It stood to reason that she’d be vulnerable right now. He didn’t want to feel responsible for her making a mistake, getting hooked up to the wrong guy around here.

  Besides that, she had a lot to learn about ranching. He’d promised to teach her. Granted, Ozzie had technically been the one to agree on his behalf through their letters, but Wyatt had seconded it once light had been shed on the situation.

  “You going to turn loose of her, Malone, and let her get to know folks?” Ethan asked. “Or just keep her all to yourself?”

  Before he could answer, Hannah gave a soft smile that rendered both Wyatt and Ethan dumb for a split second.

  “Actually, if you’ll both excuse me, I need to corral Ian before he pulls the tablecloth off in an attempt to make a fort. And I’m going to find who made this potato salad and get the recipe.”

  “That would be Iris Brewer,” Wyatt said. He recognized his mother-in-law’s salad. He’d had it twice a month for a lot of years. “Small woman, curly brown hair. She’s over there by the coffee.”

  “Thanks…oh, no. Ian!” She charged off to avert disaster between a fluted platter teetering on the edge of a table as a tablecloth got hooked in Nikki’s shoe buckle.

  Stony Stratton came to stand beside Wyatt and Ethan, watching the children create mischief. “Think I should get involved?”

  “Nah,” Wyatt said. Stony was a man of few words, a gentle giant who was the best horse trainer in the country as far as Wyatt was concerned. He could take any animal and work miracles. “They’re just feeling their oats a little.”

  Stony nodded. “Nikki will be glad of the playmate.”

  “You’ll have to let her come out to the ranch,” Wyatt said before he thought his words through.

  Ethan leaned a shoulder against the wall, slouching in a casual way that managed to look macho and elegant all at once. And Wyatt felt like an idiot noticing the mannerisms of his friends. God help him if they saw him at it.

  “So, the rumor’s true? You ran an ad for a bride?” Eth
an Callahan’s tone held just enough amused taunting to grate.

  “No. I did not.”

  Ethan and Stony both raised their brows, but waited for Wyatt to elaborate.

  “The four musketeers did it.”

  “No kidding?” Commiseration replaced amusement.

  “They ought to be shot for pulling a stunt like this. Hannah showed up thinking I knew she was coming.”

  “From California,” Ethan said with a nod. “I heard about it from Cherry. She didn’t seem pleased and if you ask me, she might be rethinking the sale of that bull. If that’s the case I might put a bid in for old Casanova myself.”

  Wyatt felt his blood pressure rise. “Did she say she’d changed her mind?”

  “Not in so many words, but then again, I’m an expert when it comes to reading women. Casanova and me have some things in common. The more I think about it, the better I like the idea of owning that stud.”

  “Keep your lady’s-man paws off my bull.”

  Ethan grinned. “So, the old guys decided you needed a wife?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Lloyd went along, too?” Stony’s quiet tone held surprise.

  Wyatt shrugged and nodded at the same time. All three men remained silent for a moment. Ethan and Stony had been pallbearers at Becky and Timmy’s funerals. Ethan had been Timmy’s godfather. Playboy tendencies aside, Ethan was as loyal and levelheaded as they came. He’d have trusted his friend with Timmy in an instant.

  And just remembering that baby boy ripped a hole in Wyatt’s gut.

  “I don’t plan to go through marriage and kids again. You know that. But I feel responsible. Hannah thought I’d written to her.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  He shrugged. “She’s got her heart set on life on a ranch. She’s tired of the fast-track living. She was married to a jerk who cheated on her and walked out on her when he got her pregnant the second time.”

  Stony and Ethan’s features hardened. It was difficult for any of them to imagine a man treating a woman that way.

  “I’m telling you, that woman’s got some courage,” Wyatt said, watching as Vera Tillis stopped her to talk. “And she’s had some tough breaks. I don’t want to be the one to add to her heartache.”