Cowboys Don't Buy Their Bride at Auction

by Jessie Gussman

  His eyes skimmed down over the words on the page. It was, indeed, their test.

  His first instinct was to hide the letter. He didn’t want Roxane to see it. His heart shivered in a way it never had before, and the paper rustled softly in hands that had started to tremble.

  For him, this was easy. He didn’t have to think, not for even a second.

  But for Roxane...he didn’t know. He suspected she might have a harder time making up her mind.

  He flattened the letter out and laid it on the counter. She’d see it when she came downstairs this morning. He slipped back outside, determined to find something to do that would keep him from thinking about the decision his wife had two weeks to make.

  BOONE MET HIS MOTHER coming out of the office when he finally stopped for lunch, forty-five minutes late.

  She gave him a look that only mothers do, sweeping over him from head to toe and taking in everything. “You’ve lost weight.” She chuckled a little. “Most of the time when men get married, they gain weight.”

  Well, he hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunch, but that was hardly going to make him lose enough that his mother would notice. “I think you’re imagining things, Mom.”

  “You’re a little late for lunch. Looks like you were really into something.” She eyed his dirty clothes and hands. Probably his face was just as bad.

  “Digging up the septic system on one of the cabins out back.”

  “That’s been leaking for years, but no one’s ever in it.”

  “Needs to be done.”

  “I see.” Her pressed lips said she probably did see. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to. She pulled her purse farther up her shoulder. “I’m going out to see Lark and won’t be back. I think Roxane’s waiting on you. Mrs. Sprouse left supper, but her husband had an appointment in Rockerton, so she won’t be around, either.”

  “I think we’ll manage.”

  Her mother put a hand on his arm. “Maybe you ought to take it a little easy on your wife. She looks exhausted.”

  He blinked at his mother, trying to figure out if she was really saying what he thought she was saying.

  “Let her sleep, honey.”

  Yep. He was pretty sure she was. He supposed he should be happy about that, because obviously, she didn’t realize he was sleeping in the barn. He shook his head, mostly at the weirdness of life sometimes, and said, “Yeah, Mom. I’ll do that.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gave him one last, hard look then moved down the path to her car.

  Normally he couldn’t wait to see his wife, whether he’d been gone for five minutes or five hours, but today his feet dragged.

  She was sitting at the bar with the folder that she used to keep all the things she was organizing for the Thanksgiving meal that was coming up soon.

  He stopped in the doorway.

  She was beautiful, as always, even with the dark circles around her eyes. Her hair flowed over her shoulder, and her dark orange shirt brought out the amber of her eyes, which were wide and staring at him.

  Sometimes, he wondered what she saw when she looked at him. Someone a lot different than the first man she’d chosen to marry. He didn’t have an Ivy League education and blue-blood pedigree. He never figured that mattered. It sure didn’t to him, but those things were important to some people.

  Her eyes softened, and he almost thought he saw a smile tilt one corner of her mouth. Maybe she was remembering last night, too. He’d never kissed her like he’d said he was going to do, but they’d snuggled under the stars for a long time, and it had been better than kissing in some ways.

  “Hey.” She didn’t move.

  Tempted to tell her what his mom had just said, because it would make her smile, he caught sight of the letter that lay between them, and he clamped his mouth shut.

  “Feeling okay?” he asked instead.

  She nodded.

  He was going to eat before he dealt with it. Or at least while he dealt with it. He washed his hands then went to the fridge and pulled out leftover chicken from the day before. “You want a sandwich?”

  “No thanks.”

  He wanted to give her a hard time about eating for the baby but decided today wasn’t the day. “You saw the letter.”

  “Yes,” she said, even though he hadn’t really meant it as a question.

  He paused, a piece of chicken in his hand. She was looking at him like she wasn’t sure what he thought.

  Rather than bothering with a sandwich, he put a piece of chicken in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “It said our test was that if we wanted to keep the ranch, we had to call it quits.”

  “Divorce.” She said the word he didn’t want to say. “And one of us has to leave.”

  That’s what he’d read too. “The other one gets a billion dollars.”

  “If we decide to stay together, we have to move off the ranch.”

  “And we get no money.”

  She nodded. Yeah, that’s what he’d thought. He chewed on some more chicken.

  “I don’t need two weeks to think about this, Roxane.”

  “I don’t, either.”

  That surprised him. But he looked at the determination in her eye. There was something else there too. Something that gave him hope. His mouth kicked up. “We’re moving?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  Chapter 17

  Boone couldn’t hide the shock that ripped through his chest. “This is your family’s ranch.”

  “It can become someone else’s ranch.”

  A pang hit his chest. He’d been about to eat another piece of chicken, but he slowly lowered his hand. “Were you thinking we’d go east?”

  She lifted her brows. “Would you?”

  Before he could answer, her phone rang. It sounded like it might be one of her friends from New York. He listened with half an ear while he chewed, grabbing a drink of water from the sink.

  Surely she didn’t really want to move to New York. Although he could probably handle that, as long as it was a portion of New York that had farms and fields and plenty of room for a man to spread out, even if he didn’t care for some of their stifling laws. Maybe because he traveled around through so many states while harvesting, but he was hyperaware that state laws could be vastly different.

  But he’d go.

  Even if she wanted to live in the city where she came from, if she refused to live with him anywhere else, he thought he could do it. Maybe.

  He almost snorted. He would. He didn’t want to, but he would. If that’s what she wanted. After all, if she could place herself on an auction block and let a stranger buy her, he could live in the city. He’d try, anyway. For Roxane.

  He was done eating by the time she got off the phone and was just putting the empty bowl in the dishwasher.

  “We’re getting company.” She stood up from her stool.

  He looked up. “Now?”

  She took a breath, looking around. “In about four hours. My mom and two of my friends, using the word loosely, since neither of them wanted to have too much to do with me when Bryan and I split.” She drummed her fingers on the countertop. “I can get the bedrooms ready, and I can figure something out to eat. They’re leaving Sunday afternoon, so it won’t be a huge deal, but...” Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip.

  He held his hands out. “I’m filthy, but I can change. I’m not doing anything that can’t wait until next week to finish. What do you need?”

  She lifted her chin in that familiar way she had, and he knew whatever she was going to ask would be something extremely hard. He’d kill himself to do it for her.

  “I need you to sleep with me.”

  His empty glass slipped out of his hand. Thankfully it was only an inch off the counter and didn’t break, although it made a loud crash that echoed in the quiet kitchen.

  “That didn’t come out right.” Roxane’s eyes watched his glass like she could keep him from dropping it again by staring at it. “I know you’re staying in
the barn because we got things a little backward and other things should have happened first and that wasn’t what you’d wanted and you were trying to do everything right or make up for it in some way or whatever that was—”

  “Stop, please.” He held his hand up. He’d never heard Roxane ramble like that. He kind of liked it, since she was always so cool and collected and made him feel like rambling.

  She clamped her mouth shut like she knew she was throwing up words.

  He narrowed his eyes and moved around the end of the bar. One of her eyes closed a little like she was lining up a bead. He didn’t let that stop him, because he was pretty sure that wasn’t what she was doing.

  “I was out in the barn,” he stepped closer, “because I wanted you to know—”

  She took a step back.

  “—that you meant more to me—”

  Her hip hit the far countertop, and she stopped.

  “—than what it looked like at Clay’s wedding.” He stopped in front of her, wanting to put his arms around her but needing to talk to her first.

  Her head tilted up. “You’re not scaring me.”

  He snorted a laugh. “Your backing up was strategic?”

  “It wasn’t fear.”

  “Good. I’d be real upset if you were scared of me.”

  “So you were stalking me, but not to scare me?”

  “I haven’t seen you scared yet. Not on the auction block and not in the kitchen. I hardly think I’d cause that emotion in you.”

  She opened her mouth, but he put one finger over it. “You’ve changed the subject.”

  She bit his finger.

  It hurt. Really. But he laughed. “I think you’re avoiding this conversation, which makes me really curious as to why?”

  She opened her mouth, and he pulled his finger out, allowing himself to wrap his hand around her neck and push his fingers into the soft hair at the nape of her neck.

  “Maybe I have other thoughts about that.”

  “About what?”

  “About what happened at the wedding.”

  That’s right. He knew how she felt. He’d been awkward and clumsy and who knew what else. He looked away, all the teasing draining out of him. Regret taking its place.

  She touched him, her hand on his cheek, and he froze. “Maybe I see it differently than you do.”

  His cheek ached to lean into her hand, pressing closer, but he stayed still, shifting only his eyes to hers, waiting.

  “I’m not disagreeing that it wasn’t the right way to start a relationship, but I knew from that time what kind of man you were. A good man. One who probably had the opportunity but had never disappeared into dark rooms with anyone before. Who didn’t treat women as disposable. Who wasn’t out for himself and what he could get without a care about the emotional destruction he left behind. Someone who valued me and made me feel more cherished than I ever had in my life before.” She took a shallow breath. “Someone as different from my ex-husband as he could be.” Her hand moved on his cheek. “It doesn’t make sense, and I don’t regret it, not a second of it, but I’ve wished every day since that I hadn’t pushed you into shedding your morals and everything you valued and going with me.”

  “No,” he said immediately. “You can’t blame yourself for my lack.”

  “It was my lack, too.”

  “You didn’t choose for me. I chose. Like David looking at Bathsheba. Maybe I shouldn’t have been dancing with you to begin with.”

  “I’m glad you were.”

  He put his hand over hers. “It’s too late to have regrets. Plus, I can see how everything tied together, and the Lord worked it out.” He just couldn’t help but feel like God wasn’t done. He couldn’t settle in and be comfortable.

  “I know my timing is bad because my mother and friends are coming, but I really would like to see you move out of the barn and into the house. Where you belong.” She moved then, and her other hand came up, resting on his waist.

  “You’re saying you want me in your room because of me and not because of how it will look to your mom,” he asked, unable to keep from teasing her.

  “I could move out to the barn. That would really shock everyone.”

  “Me included.” He put his arms around her and drew her close. “Your bed sounds nicer, but I’ll sleep in the barn with you too. Your choice.” It wasn’t like it was going to matter in two weeks, anyway. “Once we tell the lawyer we’re choosing to stay together, I wonder how long we’ll have to move out. Maybe we should start packing.”

  “I’m not packing before the Thanksgiving meal. There aren’t going to be boxes and junk scattered everywhere.”

  “I only have my clothes and my truck. I don’t need boxes.”

  “Regardless, I will not allow them to just throw us out. There will be a set time, and it will be reasonable.” She looked up at him, her face set.

  He had to grin. He loved that take-charge attitude. “I was going to recommend that you take my mom’s place and control the finances of the ranch, since you have experience in business anyway, but I guess it’s not something we need to think about anymore.”

  She tilted her head. “You don’t think your mom would mind?”

  “She’s said for years that she’d like to be able to stay on the ranch. Now that it’s paid for, and with all the boys to help her with the fieldwork, she could putter around the house and barn to her heart’s content.”

  “That’s too bad. Maybe when Sweet Water sells, she’ll quit.”

  “Maybe.” He ran his hands down her back. “What do we have to do before your mom and friends get here?”

  “Not much.” She shrugged.

  “Then I have time to kiss you.”

  Her hand tightened on his hip. The one still on his cheek moved around to the back of his head and pulled. She hadn’t said anything, but she didn’t need to.

  He might be thick and even dumb when it came to women, but there was no question what the tugging on the back of his head meant.

  WHEN THE DOORBELL RANG a few hours later, they hadn’t gotten much cleaning done at all. Boone couldn’t quit smiling, and she was in a fabulous mood herself. Way too good of a mood to have to deal with her mother.

  But she did, and despite the fact that she could tell her mother and her two friends didn’t think Boone’s jeans and boots and soft flannel shirt were quite up to their standards, Boone was his normal easygoing self. Their visit went well. She kind of thought it might drag, but before she knew it, it was Sunday afternoon and they were standing on the porch waving goodbye.

  “I would have gone and picked up Spencer so he could see his gram.” Boone had his arm around Roxane’s shoulders, and he squeezed her to him when he spoke.

  “I texted him, but he didn’t care to see her. Maybe you didn’t notice, but she didn’t even ask about him. She doesn’t really care for little boys. They’re too loud and messy.” Roxane could hear the bitterness, or maybe it was sadness, in her tone. She forced a better outlook. “She might feel differently about a little girl.”

  Boone grinned, turning to her and putting a hand on her stomach. “You’re so sure it’s a girl. How?”

  She put her hand over the top of his and pressed gently. “I just know.”

  He lowered his head to kiss her, and she thought her world could not be more perfect.

  Except before his lips touched hers, a sharp pain ripped through her stomach.

  She’d barely flinched before Boone asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Both of her hands were wrapped around her stomach, and she was doubled over. “I don’t know,” she grunted out. “It hurts.”

  Fear spiked through her, worse than the pain. It grabbed her lungs and seized her heart and scraped its icy claws down her backbone.

  She recognized the pain. She’d felt something very similar when Spencer was born. Only it had felt natural then. A little scary, but not the gripping fear that had her heart in a vice right now.

  “Will you be okay he
re while I go get my truck and bring it right here? I’m taking you to the ER.” He was backing away as he said it, getting ready to run, she assumed.

  “No,” she said, her head bent and staring at the floor.

  He stopped abruptly. Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling 911.”

  “No,” she ground out again.

  “Holy frig, woman. You can’t think I’m just going to stand here and watch this.”

  “Then go somewhere else.”

  “Isn’t there a chance we can do something? Something to stop it?”

  He’d figured out what was happening. She supposed she ought to feel grateful she didn’t have to explain it to him. But she didn’t. She hurt, sharp, burning pain that pushed like a bulldozer through her stomach and ripped backward and cramped down her legs and through her chest.

  “No.” She swallowed hard. “I’m only nine weeks. They can’t do anything.” She’d volunteered at a woman’s shelter one summer before college. More because it would look good on her college application than because she was a saint. She’d seen one of the girls there go through a miscarriage.

  It seemed to feel very much like childbirth. Like the pain felt so bad she thought it was going to kill her, and then it got worse and worse until she wished it would.

  He still had his phone out; maybe he was searching the internet for what to do.

  She put her hand on his knee because she couldn’t straighten to put it on his chest. “Would you carry me inside, please?”

  MONDAY NIGHT, ROXANE finally slept. The pain seemed to be mostly gone, and she’d huddled under the blankets in their bed. Boone had slid in beside her, but when he touched her, she’d stiffened, so he’d rolled over on his back and waited until her breathing was deep and steady. He slid out and slipped on a pair of jeans, walking downstairs in his bare feet and outside into the cold North Dakota night, sitting down on the step, and easing the ache in his back by setting both elbows on his knees.

  He hadn’t done anything in his life that had been harder than the last two days. Not that Roxane had been unkind or complained. But it was harder than he’d ever imagined to see the suffering of someone he loved so fiercely. Not to mention, he’d been scared beyond words that she was going to die. And she wouldn’t let him call to take her anywhere.