The Rancher’s Frontier Family

by Maya Stirling

  THE RANCHER'S FRONTIER FAMILY

  Brides of Inspiration

  Book 11

  By

  MAYA STIRLING

  Faith and Family on the Frontier

  In a few short months, Beth Russell has inherited a ranch and become mother to orphaned twins. Then a handsome rancher enters her world, getting injured in the process. After all Landon Baxter did to protect her, Beth knows she must nurse him back to health. Beth didn't expect the injured rancher to turn her life upside down in the most delightful and joyous way with the promise of love and family.

  As Beth nurses him back to health on her ranch, Landon can't help falling for the beautiful woman who owns the Circle D. She's the woman of his dreams. But he's not the only one with wounds that need healing. Beth has fought hard to keep the ranch and provide a home for the two children. Her perseverance has taken its toll on the spirited ranch owner.

  Now Landon has to find a way to win Beth's heart, heal her damaged faith, and protect her from dangerous forces which surround her and the children. Can Beth and Landon forge a new beginning on the Montana frontier?

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  © 2019 Maya Stirling

  The Lord is my strength and song, and he is become my salvation: he is my God, and I will prepare him an habitation; my father's God, and I will exalt him.

  Exodus 15:2

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Circle D ranch

  Near Inspiration, Montana

  September, 1881

  "I've told you before, Mr Harding. I'm not interested in selling my ranch." Beth Russell stared into the night-dark eyes of the man who owned the ranch which bordered hers. Wes Harding narrowed those eyes and stared at Beth for a long moment. The late afternoon sun was bright. Beth felt her horse shift nervously. The wheels of her buckboard slid on the dry trail earth. Tugging on the reins, she fought to control the chestnut mare. Perhaps the animal could sense the danger coming from the man who'd just blocked her path on the trail back to her own Circle D ranch. A bird's harsh squawk rang out in the trees. Wind rushed through the high trees of the forest on the other side of the creek. The water of the narrow creek murmured softly. The valley was lush and beautiful. On any other day she would have been happy to be here. But not today.

  Wes Harding curved his hand around his stubble-covered chin. Angling his dark brown horse across the narrow trail, he straightened his broad shoulders and tubby frame, stretching himself inside his heavy coat and dark suit. His powerful girth betrayed years of good living. He'd had over fifty of those years, and looked like he'd made the most of every one of them.

  Harding smiled, but it wasn't a smile intended to calm Beth's nerves. As usual, she could see greed in Harding's eyes, Beth told herself. "I know you didn't find my previous offers acceptable, Miss Russell," Harding growled. He tipped his brown Stetson up from his sweaty forehead. "That's why I made it my business to find you today and make you another offer."

  Beth didn't like the sound of Harding's tone. He'd sought her out? That might explain why he looked out of breath and sweating. Someone must have told Harding that Beth was heading back home from making her weekly visit to Inspiration. But who could have told him? Moments ago, he'd ridden from the north across the rough, grassy rangeland, surprising her so much she'd pulled the buckboard to a sudden halt by the creek.

  "I have to be getting home, Mr Harding," Beth insisted. She flicked the reins and the two horses took a few steps toward the mounted rider blocking the trail. But Harding didn't budge an inch.

  Sighing, Beth halted the buckboard and glared at Harding. "My children will be waiting for me, sir," she snapped.

  Harding nodded sagely. "I'm sure they will. Those sure are two lovely children," he said with a hint of sarcasm. Shaking his head, he added: "I still can't believe it. Their parents passing away like that." He lifted a brow. "Leaving you looking after them. All alone."

  Beth groaned. Her fingers tightened around the reins. She wasn't going to discuss the children. Not out here with Harding. It was none of his business. Everyone in these parts knew the story. There was no sense going over it with Wes Harding. "I appreciate your concern, sir." Gazing along the length of the trail which cut through the valley, she was suddenly and keenly aware that she was alone with Harding. If he didn't want to get out of her way she wondered how she could get him to move.

  Recalling that Harding considered himself to be a gentleman, Beth forced herself to smile at him. "It's been good talking with you. Always is a delight to make your acquaintance, Mr Harding. But, if you don't mind, I'll be on my way." She waved a hand to one side. "Can you move your horse off the trail, please?" To her right, the ground dropped sharply from the trail and down to the edge of the creek. There was only one way for Harding to go. If he was going to let her pass. Right now, that looked in serious doubt.

  For a moment, Harding appeared happy to oblige. He drew the reins up to his middle. But, instead of guiding his horse to the undulating grassy area to Beth's left, he brought his horse closer to Beth. Worry twisted in her middle as she watched him advancing toward her. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

  There was a gleam in Harding's eye. One she didn't like. "I know that if you and I can just talk, Miss Russell, we can come to some kind of arrangement." He tilted his head. "A mutually beneficial arrangement, if you like." He shrugged. "I only want to talk. Now, what harm can that do?"

  She didn't believe that last part. Not one bit. Indignation flared inside Beth. "Just because you and I are neighboring ranch owners doesn't mean I have to spend a single moment of my precious time in your company," she said loudly.

  Harding didn't even flinch. Halting his horse right in front of hers, he eyed her with a steady gaze. "I know you don't really mean that."

  Beth stood up and planted her hands on her hips. She glared at him. "Mr Harding, this has gone far enough."

  Harding's eyes narrowed appreciatively. "You're a mighty fine-looking woman, Miss Russell. Seems like a terrible waste, you living on that ranch without a man to keep you company."

  "There are plenty of men on my ranch, sir," she replied loudly. "As you well know. And every one of them works for me. All my ranch hands are loyal." Lowering her head, she eyed Harding sternly. "They work hard and they work for me," she added emphatically.

  Harding smiled. "That ain't exactly what I meant," he said and smiled. "But I figure you know that." Sitting back down on the seat, Beth grabbed the reins. Harding's gaze narrowed. "What're you planning on doing?" he asked sarcastically.

  Beth tightened her hold on the reins. "I'll ask you one last time. Please move aside," she said evenly. "If you don't, I'll have to force my way past."

  For a few long moments, Harding didn't reply. Finally running out of patience, Beth lifted the reins, preparing to drive her horses forward. Harding moved fast, tugging on the reins of his own horse. Before she knew it, he was by the side of the buckboard. He quickly reached across and grabbed her reins. She groaned with outrage, feeling the surprising strength of the aged ranch owner.

  Beth tugged her arm, trying desperately to release the reins from his powerful grasp. "Let go!" she shrieked, her voice echoing across the clearing.

  Hardin grinned, apparently enjoying his battle with Be
th. He shook his head. "I can't do that, ma'am."

  Her blood boiling, Beth pushed Harding's chest. He didn't budge an inch. Harding grinned, apparently enjoying the tussle. With one final heave Beth pushed Harding. Her extra effort unbalanced Harding, sending him back across his horse's back. He clung on with his reins. Beth saw Harding's eyes widen. Color flushed his heavily-jowled features. Now he was annoyed, she told herself.

  Harding reached for her again. She could see the rage in his eyes. Beth cried out. "Stop!"

  Then Harding shifted himself off the back of his horse. He was going to come on to the buckboard, she told herself.

  Suddenly, a voice roared in the air. "I think you should do what the lady says."

  Harding froze and glared at something behind Beth. Whirling her head around in the direction of the trees on the other side of the creek, she saw a horse and rider. A man, about Beth's age, sat astride a tall black stallion. He was peering steadily up at the buckboard and the scene being played out on it.

  Harding moved back onto his horse. "What business is it of yours?" he cried out, his voice shaking with outrage. Beth could hear uncertainty in Harding's voice.

  The stranger didn't say anything. Beth watched as he guided his horse across the creek and up the steep bank. He brought his stallion to a halt in front of her buckboard, taking up position at the edge of the drop to the creek. Now that he was close, Beth saw that the stranger had even features and dark hair. He wore a gray Stetson, light-brown buckskin jacket, jeans and black, well-worn boots. He narrowed his green eyes. There was a steadiness of purpose in the man's eyes as he fixed his gaze on Harding. "As far as it being my business, I don't think you should be treating a lady like that," the stranger said calmly. Beth felt her heart quicken when the man's gaze flickered in her direction. Beth glanced at Harding. He looked genuinely perplexed.

  Harding moved his horse until it was facing the stranger. "You're trespassing," he bellowed, his face turning even more red. "You know that, don't you. This is ranch land."

  Unmoved by Harding's bluster, the stranger smiled. "I'm just figuring on taking this trail. Now what harm is there in that?" he said casually and lifted a brow.

  Harding dragged in a sharp breath and rose in his saddle. If he was looking for a fight, then Beth was sure Harding would be no match for the newcomer. The stranger's powerful physique hinted at long years of hard work. And there was a pistol at his side. Worrying that things might get out of hand, Beth stood. "Mr Harding. What you forgot to tell this man is that this is my ranch land. Not yours. Even if you'd like it to belong to you. It belongs to me." Beth pointed in the direction of the distant ridge. "I'd be obliged if you leave my property," she added firmly.

  Beth saw the stranger lift a querying brow and peer at her. What she'd said was true. If anyone had no right to be on her land, it was Harding. For a long moment, Harding glared at Beth. Was he going to defy her yet again? Even in the presence of the stranger who'd already taken Beth's side?

  The stranger spoke: "In that case, maybe you should do what the lady says." He flipped a thumb. "Get on your way," he ordered Harding.

  Beth heard Harding growl. Like the stranger, Harding was wearing a gun. His hand dropped to his side as he stared at the stranger. Beth saw the younger man's eyes watch Harding carefully. But, the stranger didn't make a move for his gun. Instead, he just matched Harding's stare. The hint of violence faded as the stranger looked steadily at Harding.

  Finally, Harding grunted loudly and turned to Beth. Touching the brim of his Stetson, he forced a smile. "Have a good day, ma'am," he said with obvious reluctance in his voice. Then he gave the stranger one final disapproving look and dug his heels into his horse's side. The horse, startled by Harding's sudden movement, lurched forward. Beth felt her mouth open as she watched Harding's horse barge its way past the stranger. As Harding pushed his way past, the stranger's horse neighed in alarm and reared up, kicking its front legs in the air. The stranger tried hard to steady his mount, tugging on the reins, but to no avail. Beth's eyes widened with horror as she watched the stranger tumble backwards off the horse. He reached out helplessly trying to stop himself from falling. Beth cried out as she saw the man fall from the horse and crash against the steep bank of the creek. There was nothing he could do to stop himself. His body rolled down the sharply-angled creek wall. Beth gasped as she saw the man's head crash against a large rock by the side of the running water. She heard the man grunt loudly as his body halted its chaotic tumble. It came to a rest with half of his body in the water. Her heart began to race when she saw the sudden stillness of the man's body.

  When she saw blood running from the man's head, Beth lifted her skirts and leaped from the buckboard seat. With one last look along the trail, she saw Harding riding away. Either he was oblivious to what he'd caused, or he was secretly pleased. Right now, Beth didn't care. All that mattered now was she had to help the stranger.

  She started to make her way carefully down the steep bank. Holding her skirts with one hand, she held onto the loose grassy earth as she edged her way down toward the unconscious man. A prayer rose into her mind. Lord. Help this man. Protect him and save him from harm.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rising from the darkness, Landon Baxter heard the sound of running water. He felt the cold making its way into his muscles. One side of his body was wet. His head ached. A dull, throbbing pain pulsed at the back of his head. For a moment, he tried to work out how he'd ended up here. Then the memory drifted into his mind. The woman and the man arguing. How the older man had forced Landon from his horse. The fall.

  A voice echoed in the darkness. "Mister. Are you okay?" It was a woman's voice, and it was tinged with worry. Even some fear.

  Landon opened his eyes. Shimmering blue eyes, filled with concern, gazed down at him. Dark hair tumbled to the woman's shoulders as she leaned over Landon. He felt her hand resting gently on his chest. Landon looked up at the woman's even features. Her dark brows were furrowed. A wave of dizziness swept over Landon. He closed his eyes and groaned. It felt good to close his eyes. He figured it would be better if he just rested. Maybe sleep a while.

  Landon felt the woman shake his shoulder gently. "Mister. Please open your eyes."

  For some inexplicable reason he wanted to please her. Opening his eyes again, he saw her shoulders slump with relief. "How's that?" he asked, trying to make it sound like a joke. He tried to smile. Judging by the deepening of the ridges of her brows, his attempt at humor hadn't succeeded.

  Landon tried to lift his head, but it felt like it weighed a ton. Abandoning that idea, he let his head rest against the damp earth next to the water.

  The woman shook her head. "Try not to move." He saw her lean across and examine his head. She dragged in a sharp breath. He figured she didn't like what she was looking at. The dampness and throbbing pain told Landon that something bad had happened. Glancing to his left, he saw a thin trail of blood easing out into the clear creek water. His blood. Landon sighed and forced himself to lay still as another wave of dizziness swept over him. This time his stomach knotted and he felt nausea welling up in his gut. He fought hard to control himself, and succeeded. It wasn't the first time he'd fallen from a horse. And it wouldn't be the last. But, it had been plain bad luck that his head had hit something hard on the way down to the creek's edge.

  The woman stood and looked down at him. For a brief moment, he got his first clear view of her. At first, she seemed familiar. But he couldn't place where he'd seen her before. She wore a plain, sky-blue blouse and skirt of a darker blue. They matched her blue eyes perfectly, he told himself. Her features were pretty. Wide, dark brows were set upon a face with high cheekbones and bow-shaped mouth with full lips. Right now her brows were furrowed thoughtfully. For some reason he couldn't understand, he needed to know her name. "Who are you?" he asked.

  Her mouth opened. "My name is Beth Russell," she announced and planted one hand on her hip. "And you are?"

  Landon's mind went suddenl
y blank. He frowned and ignored the pain which throbbed once again. Thinking hard for a moment, it finally came to him. "Name's Landon, ma'am."

  "Well, Landon," she said. "That's a nasty cut you've got there on your head."