The Bride Wore Spurs. Janet Dean

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СКАЧАТЬ long as he’d peered into those pretty, haunted eyes, how could he expect to make an intelligent decision? Could any decision be called intelligent that involved marrying a woman he didn’t love? And who didn’t love him?

      Lord, I need the wisdom You gave Solomon.

      “I’ll think about it. Pray about it. This isn’t an agreement a man enters into lightly.”

      With that assertion, he plopped his Stetson on his head, strode to his horse and rode for the Circle W, leaving Hannah behind, from what he’d heard, sputtering. Had she expected his answer on the spot?

      He needed time to wrap his mind around her proposal. He supposed marriage to Hannah would mean no risk of entangling his heart and no more of Jenny Sample’s cakes. And, marrying Hannah would allow him to care for a dying man he saw as a second father.

      Amy’s death had killed his capacity to risk his heart. A marriage of convenience would work for him, but didn’t seem fair to Hannah. She deserved love. Even if he could love again, he didn’t deserve her, any woman.

      If only—

      He refused to let his mind travel to the day of Amy’s death. As much as he lived with regrets, nothing could change the past.

      * * *

      A bright, sunny morning didn’t fit Hannah’s mood. As she and Jake finished the last of the chores, she’d prayed for an answer to her dilemma. Never thinking God would put words in her mouth, she’d never have spoken if she hadn’t been desperate to give Papa peace. Marry me, Matt, she’d blurted out. Yet marriage was the last thing she wanted. If Matt agreed, would the solution bring even bigger problems? If he refused, she’d have no recourse but to sell.

      She felt out of control, swept along like the cattle she’d often witnessed in Fort Worth, driven through narrow chutes and onto waiting railroad boxcars that would deliver them to their final destination.

      Annihilation.

      She shivered. Surely marriage wouldn’t be that bad. She knew little about wedded life, had no more than an outsider’s view. Would a husband want to herd her into the narrow shoot of his will and destroy the freedom she held dear, freedom to work, freedom to run the ranch? To have purpose and meaning, be part of something bigger than her?

      Across the way, Matt emerged from the back door, no doubt finished helping Papa shave and dress, the actions of a thoughtful, caring man. Why had she thought he had ulterior motives for his kindness?

      With a strong, hardworking, no-nonsense air about him, Matt’s long legs gobbled up the distance as he strode to his horse. Where was he headed?

      She caught up with him just as he took Thunder’s reins. “Heading back to the Circle W?” she said, trying to sound casual, when every muscle tensed with wondering if he’d come to a decision about marrying her.

      He turned to her, a smile on his lips. The sight of that dimple winking at her and his dark eyes, soft, kind, whooshed the breath out of her lungs. Why couldn’t she stop reacting to the man? He saw her as a gangly kid to be teased, barely tolerated.

      “Several of your cows will be dropping calves. Thought I’d ride out to check on them.”

      Here was an opportunity to take back the reins of her life. “If you can wait while I change out of this dress and saddle Star, I’ll ride along. See for myself how the herd looks.”

      And along the way ask a few questions about the ranch. Make sure he saw her as being in charge. Prove she wasn’t the debutante he believed her to be.

      “I’ll saddle Star for you,” he said, then disappeared into the stable.

      Within minutes, she’d told Papa her whereabouts, changed into denims and returned just as Matt emerged leading Star.

      “That was quick,” he said, his gaze sliding over her.

      “Papa’s determined to see me in a dress. I’ll change back before he sees me.”

      With an impish grin on his face, Matt gave her a hand up. “I don’t understand Martin’s position. You look mighty good in pants.”

      Her cheeks heated and the smile wobbled on her lips. At least Matt wouldn’t insist on her wearing dresses if they married, but would she lose the freedom she cherished?

      Lose her identity like Belle, her married friend? Once she and Belle had shared the thrill of riding, of lassoing calves, of shooting tin cans off fence posts. Now Belle had turned into a lady, answering to her full name Marybelle, spending her days cooking and cleaning, washing and ironing, mending and gardening. Not that Hannah shunned hard work, but she’d find such confinement suffocating.

      With maids and a cook to do the work, Aunt Mary Esther spent her days socializing and didn’t appear to have an independent thought from Uncle Clyde. That existence would be even more unbearable.

      In comparison with the alternatives, marriage to Matt looked tolerable.

      They rode out toward the north range, the view from horseback exhilarating. But then the realities of life invaded her mind, dashing her pleasure like a deluge doused in hot coals.

      “How does Papa seem to you?” Hannah asked.

      “Having you home has lifted his spirits.”

      If Matt agreed, Hannah knew their marriage would give Papa peace. And her the certainty of staying on the land she loved. He hadn’t broached the topic, probably still praying about his answer. She wouldn’t press for his decision, for fear that pushing him would raise his ire and he’d give a hasty no.

      Instead she’d focus the conversation on the ranch and look for ways to resolve the problems. “Did we lose many cattle last winter?”

      “Nope. Mild winter. Another year or two like that and the herd will come close to its size before the winter of ’86–’87.”

      That was a terrible winter and spring. Cattle that survived the blizzard were swept away in floods. They’d lost half the herd, more fortunate than some, but still they’d taken a serious punch in the pocketbook.

      Ahead of her, the cattle dotted the fenced pasture, their large frames of every imaginable color. Their horned white faces bent toward the grass. “Crossbreeding longhorns with Herefords makes an interesting herd.”

      “Yep, the offspring are the best of both breeds, even-tempered, early maturing and mighty fine eating. They fatten up fast and handle drought. The cows make excellent mothers.”

      At the entrance to the north pasture, Matt guided Thunder alongside the fence, opening the gate from horseback, letting her ride through before closing it behind them.

      Up ahead two calves bunted each other, then stopped to stare as they rode slowly through the herd, counting calves. A few of the babies were overcome with fear and rushed to their mamas to nurse and be comforted.

      Hannah grinned at Matt. “Aren’t they cute?”

      “Yep, better yet, they’re profit on legs. I—”

      He rose in the saddle, then with a nudge of his knees, urged his horse forward. Hannah followed. Up ahead, away СКАЧАТЬ