The Rancher's Mail-Order Bride

by Mindy Neff

  Hannah relaxed. “You have no idea how wonderful that makes me feel. I’m a bit in awe of you, you know.”

  This appeared to take the other woman aback. She recovered quick enough, glanced back at where Ian was now perched on the wooden countertop by the cash register, a lollipop bulging in his cheek.

  “He looks enough like Wyatt to be family.” With a sigh, Cherry took a step back. “Good luck with the garden. Watch out for the potato bugs.”

  Hannah wanted to know what the heck a potato bug was, but Cherry had already turned away and was hefting a very large, heavy-looking sack up to her shoulder.

  Yes, there was awe. She couldn’t imagine hefting sacks of feed—at least not while pregnant—but maybe some day…

  “Hannah Richmond?”

  Hannah turned and smiled as Ozzie Peyton rushed toward her. At this rate she’d never get her seeds purchased. But oh, it was wonderful to go into a store and actually know people.

  “I thought that was you.”

  “Hard to miss me, seeing as I’m the only pregnant woman in town.”

  “And mighty pretty you look, too.”

  “Flatterer.”

  Ozzie’s vivid-blue, Paul Newman eyes softened. “My Vanessa, God rest her soul, was always sayin’ that to me, too.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry for your loss.” She wondered if it was recent.

  “I miss her, you bet. Wonderful woman. Was a schoolteacher. In fact, she taught Wyatt. She’d have liked you, approved. You bet.”

  “Would she have approved of what you did?”

  Ozzie had the grace to look abashed. But only for a moment. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she did.”

  Hannah frowned. “She did?”

  “Well, I like to think so, anyway.”

  Ah, Hannah thought. He still talked to his wife, kept her close in his heart. That was fine. Touching, in fact.

  He looked at her, his gaze shrewd. “Do you think I made such a big mistake?”

  Hannah couldn’t hold his resolute stare.

  “Me and the boys were right about you,” he said softly. “You’re just what Wyatt needs.”

  “So you think. That’s not exactly what he thinks, Ozzie.”

  “Give him time, he’ll come around.”

  That’s what she was hoping for. But she’d hoped for things before in her life and had setbacks. It didn’t stop her from trying, but at least she knew to take a realistic view.

  “I’m not sorry I came, Ozzie, if that’s what you’re trying to find out.”

  “That’s half the battle, then, ain’t it? You’re gonna be good for Shotgun Ridge. You wait and see.”

  “Ozzie Peyton, now what are you up to?”

  At the sound of Iris Brewer’s voice, Ozzie jerked around like a puppet on a string. “I’m just visiting, Iris.” In an exaggerated whisper to Hannah, he said, “Woman nags me more than my Vanessa did.”

  “Since Vanessa was one of my dearest friends, I consider it my duty to nag you,” Iris said as Ozzie made a comical escape toward the front of the store. She reached out a hand to Hannah. Her other hand was holding Ian’s.

  “I found this cherub eating candy before lunch and thought perhaps you’d join me in a burger before you leave town.”

  “I’d love to. Just let me pay for these seeds and tomato plants.”

  “Oh, a garden. What a lovely idea. It’s very soothing to work in the soil.”

  “That’s what I was telling Cherry a few minutes ago.” Though it gave Hannah a punch to know that she might not be around to see it bloom.

  Iris smiled. “My Becky didn’t like to garden.”

  Here Hannah felt uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Whether to talk about Wyatt’s late wife or not. But Becky had been Iris’s daughter first and foremost. And that was a loss the woman would feel keenly.

  “Do you think it’s a bad idea that I plant one?”

  “Oh, no. Mary—Wyatt’s mother—always threatened to put one right out the back door, but she had a better way with stray animals than with plants. Always preferred to get her vegetables from town. You go right ahead and plant to your heart’s desire. But you make Wyatt or one of the men do the digging. That’s too much for you in your condition.”

  “Wyatt’s got enough to do at the ranch. I don’t want to take him away from it. I’ll pace myself, though, I promise.”

  Iris hefted Ian up in her arms, even though the boy was probably too heavy. It was clear by the way her arms wrapped around him, by the way she pressed her lips to his chubby cheeks and laughed at his squeal, that she ached for the grandson she’d lost.

  She looked at Hannah, hesitated. “If you like, I can come over and help…that is, if you even want the company.”

  “I’d love the company, and the help. I’ve never had a vegetable garden. I can grow roses and azaleas like nobody’s business, but I’m not sure about carrots and lettuce and such.”

  “Nothing to it. A little mulch and water and a loving hand and you’ll have abundance in no time.”

  “Did I hear someone speaking about abundance?”

  Hannah looked up to see the young preacher, Dan Lucas, heading toward them. My goodness, it appeared that the feed store was the meeting place for the entire town.

  “I thought Brewers was the hub around here,” Hannah whispered.

  Iris grinned. “Folks see a familiar truck and they’ll change their plans and destination just to stop in and speak. They’re especially interested when they see the vehicle belongs to the new person in town.

  To the pastor, Iris said, “We’re talking vegetable abundance.”

  “Well, that’s close enough. Did you tell Hannah about the town dance at your place a week from Saturday? And about the potluck after church on Sunday ?” He asked the question of Iris, but held out his hand in greeting to Hannah. “With so many new faces showing up in town, we’ve got to roll out the welcome. Good to see you, Hannah.”

  “Likewise.”

  “I haven’t gotten a chance to mention either function,” Iris said. “We’re headed over to the saloon for lunch. Would you like to join us, Dan?”

  “No. I’m due out at Lenette Turman’s place. Her Doug has taken a turn for the worse.”

  “Oh, no.” To Hannah, she explained. “Doug had a stroke a while back. Give Lenette my love, will you, Dan? And tell her I’ll be by.”

  “Certainly. We’ll see you this Sunday, Hannah? And at the dance next week?”

  “I—I guess.”

  The young preacher nodded and waved. “About time this town started hopping again.”

  Ozzie, standing at the counter next to Henry nodded sagely and turned to his buddy. “Isn’t that exactly what we were sayin’ Henry? Ya ask me, we done a darn smart thing here. You bet.”

  Chapter Ten

  When Hannah and Ian got back to the ranch, she grabbed the ice chest that held her coveted Fudgsicle pops, and got out of the truck.

  “Can we eat it now, mama? Pwease?”

  “Ian, you’ve already had a Fudgsicle on top of that huge lunch. You’ll burst.”

  Walking up to the back door, she came to a halt. The soil on the plot of ground where she wanted to plant her garden had been turned over and rows furrowed, ready to drop seeds into.

  Wyatt, shirt off, skin glistening in the afternoon sun, hat on his head, leaned on a hoe and grinned at her.

  “Hey! Wyatt digged the dirt!” Ian forgot all about the Popsicles and skipped right over to investigate. There was something about boys and dirt that attracted one another.

  And there was something about a man and dirt, also. Goodness, this cowboy was a sight.

  She moved closer, touched by what he’d done for her, riveted by the sight of sweat trickling down his bare chest, picking up a trail of dust on its descent toward the belt at his waist.

  A silver buckle rested against his washboard-flat stomach. She dared not let her eyes go any lower.

  She looked up at him. “You didn’t have to do this
for me.”

  He shrugged. “I had some time.”

  She doubted that. “Thank you.”

  “No big deal.” He picked up his shirt from the ground, slipped it on but didn’t button the front.

  Hannah decided that was even sexier. Wyatt Malone had presence. It was in the way he carried himself. Oh he was handsome, that went without saying. But his were more of the chiseled, classic good looks sculpted by laughter and life.

  “How did you accomplish this so quickly?” she asked.

  “Brought the tractor in and gave it a couple passes. So, how’d it go in town?”

  “Good. I got a couple of starter plants and the seeds. Six different kinds.” She held up the packages like a prize. “Seems like I talked to half the residents of Shotgun Ridge.”

  Wyatt smiled. “That’ll happen. Usually have to allow at least forty-five extra minutes just for visiting when you make a trip to town.”

  “There’s a dance a week from Saturday, and a potluck after church the next day. I told Pastor Lucas we’d be there.”

  His hand tightened around the handle of the hoe. Then he nodded. “What’s in the ice chest?”

  “Fudgsicle pops.” She fiddled with the charm on her necklace, gave a sheepish smile. “I don’t know if it was a craving or a fond memory.”

  “Can’t have cravings or memories going unfulfilled.”

  Ian pounced on a cricket and Wyatt snagged him, tickling him and hoisting him to his shoulder. She thought back to Cherry’s comment. Man and boy did look enough alike to be related. And the way Wyatt responded to her son made everything within her go soft.

  This was so good for Ian. Allan had never rough-housed with his son, never carried him on his shoulders or put him on a horse or took time to listen and answer endless questions.

  The genuine attention Wyatt gave to her son, the caring, was reason enough to fall in love with him. Assuming she even needed a reason in the first place.

  It was fairly obvious that he was half in love with her boy. She wondered if those feelings could extend to her.

  She vowed to try everything in her power to make that so.

  IT TOOK TWO DAYS to get her garden planted. There were still chores to do with housecleaning, changing the sheets on the beds, preparing meals, and taking care of the chickens, the goat and Daisy.

  Hannah was pleasantly exhausted. Living on Wyatt’s ranch was hard work, but it was challenging. It allowed her to be outdoors, to try new experiences, to simply gaze off in the distance and see endless miles of prairie or bright-blue sky.

  The smells and sounds soothed her.

  It amazed her that she could be so busy yet feel no stress. It had to be good for the baby she carried in her womb. She knew it was good for Ian. Her son was thriving in this atmosphere, in the company of Wyatt and his cowboys. They all seemed to delight in Ian’s antics and questions, each man taking pride in teaching the boy something new.

  Kneeling in the dirt, patting the rich soil around her seeds, her gaze alighted on something horrible at the same moment her hand came down on it.

  Jerking back, an uncontrollable shriek burst from her throat and she leaped up. Shuddering, she did a little running-in-place dance, her skin crawling, never giving a thought to the picture she presented.

  When she gained control of herself, she had the presence of mind to look around to see who’d witnessed her ridiculous display.

  Wyatt stood a few feet away, hesitating as though he weren’t sure if she’d taken leave of her senses or not.

  His hazel eyes were filled with amusement, his lips curved ever so slightly. “I don’t see any blood or snakes. What’d you run into?”

  Another shiver tracked down her spine. Nevertheless, she straightened her shoulders. “You have prehistoric creatures in the earth.”

  His brows lifted, shifting the hat on his head.

  “A horrible bug. It was sort of white…and it had a head. A big one. I swear it looked at me.”

  He chuckled. “Potato bug.”

  “But I didn’t plant potatoes. Cherry warned me to watch for them, so I deliberately didn’t plant potatoes.”

  “Don’t need potatoes. They’re not discriminate.”

  “Now you tell me.” She eyed the soil, gripped the spade in her hand, and took a step back among her neatly furrowed rows. By darn, she’d find that ugly sucker and kill it.

  It crawled over a clump of dirt and Hannah lost her nerve, squealed again and jumped back.

  Wyatt caught her when she leaped three rows in a single bound. He was so enchanted by this woman, he didn’t quite know how to contain or compartmentalize his feelings.

  Taking the spade from her fingers, he set her aside. “Allow me to slay your dragons, madam.”

  “You’d be better off getting the gun. That bug should be classified as an animal.”

  He laughed. Yes, definitely enchanted.

  After he dispatched the nasty bug, the radio at his belt squawked. “Hey, boss, you by the two-way?”

  Wyatt took the radio from his belt and responded. “I’m here, Trevor.”

  “Got a bull on the loose. That fence on Butterhill’s down again—the one on Cherry’s side. Steve and I’ve been looking for a while, but there’s a lot of ground to cover.”

  “I’ll take the plane up. You two work on the fence until I see if I can spot him.” Bulls on the loose were not good, but occasions just like this gave Wyatt a sense of contentment and anticipation. He loved any excuse to fly the plane.

  He looked at Hannah. “How’d you and Ian like to take a ride with me?”

  “More four-wheeling?”

  “No.” Evidently she hadn’t heard the radio conversation. She was still eyeing the dirt with suspicion. “Flying.”

  “As in a plane?”

  “The very thing.” He grinned at her hesitation, her interest, saw her decision flash across her face. He loved the adventuresome side of Hannah Richmond. She might have fears, but she faced them, was always game to try something new.

  It was attitudes like Hannah’s that made a woman special.

  Even though it didn’t always make them stay.

  “I’d love to,” she said, pleasing him more than he wanted to admit.

  THE LITTLE PIPER CUB was barely big enough for two people. With Ian in her lap, both of them strapped in, Hannah concentrated on breathing normally. She wore headphones so she could talk to Wyatt above the noise of the plane. Ian had worn himself out early with his excitement and now his head slumped against Hannah’s breast.

  She smoothed back his sweaty hair from his forehead.

  They flew along the highway now, Wyatt pointing out his land that stretched for as far as they could see.

  “I noticed the white crosses along the road,” Hannah said.

  She saw his hands stiffen on the yoke, but she couldn’t see his eyes behind the aviator-style sunglasses.

  “The state does that where there’ve been accidents…fatalities.” He put the plane into a gentle turn, followed the ribbon of asphalt that was bordered by endless miles of prairie. “That’s Becky and Timmy’s.”

  She barely gazed in the direction he nodded. Instead, she reached over the top of Ian’s head and pressed a hand to Wyatt’s arm. “I imagine the reminder is painful. But you could look at it as a sort of tribute to them.”

  He nodded, banked the plane away, heading out across the grazing pastures, over a creek with sunny buttercups and willows growing along its banks.

  “There’s our runaway bull.” He keyed the mike, gave the men his coordinates.

  He buzzed the area until Trevor and Steve rode in and waved him off, indicating they’d seen the bull for themselves.

  “Modern conveniences,” Wyatt murmured. “Makes my life easy.”

  For a while they simply flew in silence, the sky so blue it nearly blinded. There were trees around Wyatt’s house—planted as a windbreak by the area’s first generation Malones—but other than that it was wide-open space with the
unobstructed beauty of incredible sunrises, sunsets and skyscapes. As they flew east, though, the terrain changed to gently rolling hills and pine-topped ridges.

  “You like this, don’t you?” Hannah said when the silence had stretched for a while. After the initial tension, it had turned into a comfortable kind of quiet.

  “I love it. Even more than being on horseback.”

  “It must be a wonderful feeling to own all this, to know that it’s yours.”

  “The land’s been in my family for four generations. The first Malone parlayed a bull and a few heifers into a good-size cow outfit. Over the years, we’ve acquired more and more property. As the herd increases, so does the need for grazing land.”

  “And you intend to increase your herd even more with Cherry’s bull.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Wyatt?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Would you tell me about Becky and Timmy?”

  She didn’t think he was going to answer. The monotonous drone of the plane’s engine filtered in the headsets. She’d brought the subject up now because somehow, it seemed that a conversation like this would be easier conducted through the impersonal radio waves via headphones. Perhaps it would make it less painful.

  “It was four years ago. Timmy was a year old. A cute, bubbly one-year-old, pulling himself up on tables to stand and starting to let go.” He paused, his Adam’s apple working convulsively. Though he was looking out at the open sky, Hannah knew he was seeing his son and swallowing tears of grief. “I never got to see him take his first step.”

  Oh, the pain. It was raw in his voice, fresh, even after the passage of time. She was almost sorry she’d asked about this, tried to imagine if it had been Ian, how she would have felt. Her imagination wouldn’t even go there.

  She tightened her arms around her sleeping son, counting her blessings that she had him to hold.

  “It was a single-car accident. We can only speculate that an animal came out in front of her. Or that she’d fallen asleep or her mind had wandered. She’d run off the road, overcorrected and lost control of the car. I spotted the wreckage from the plane, landed on the highway. But they were already gone.”