A Convenient Match for the Wounded Bride (Preview)

Prologue

The morning sun was already warm on Hannah Dalton’s bonnet as the family carriage rumbled away from the ranch. The gravel road shimmered ahead, stretching between golden hills and distant pines.

Hannah leaned out of the side slightly, taking in the landscape with a small smile. Though the worn seat beneath her did her back no favors.

“You’d think with all this cattle money, your father could at least spring for new cushions,” her mother teased, patting the side of the carriage with a roll of her eyes.

Hannah could tell she was being playful. Her mother had a great relationship with her father. She never meant him any harm.

“I’ve been begging for that since I was fifteen,” Hannah replied, shifting her hips to ease the ache starting to build at the base of her spine. “I think he considers discomfort part of the experience.”

Her father was sitting in front of them with the reins in his hand. He turned, and there was a grin on his face.

“It builds character,” he said over the sound of the rolling wheels.

“It builds blisters,” Hannah corrected him.

“Language, young lady,” her mother warned with a lifted brow. However, there was a smile tucked beneath it.

Hannah laughed softly. “Tilly would’ve had something sharper to say.”

“Mmm, Tilly would have leaped out of the window halfway to the city if she had to sit still this long,” Hannah’s father added. “I think we’re all better off she stayed with the Harpers.”

“I don’t know,” Hannah replied. “She’s probably halfway through Mrs. Harper’s pie stash by now.”

“She’ll be sticky and smug when we get back,” her mother giggled, adjusting the brim of her bonnet. “Still, she needs a break from the ranch, same as we do. We all need something new now and then.”

Hannah caught the softness in her mother’s voice. She knew her mother wasn’t just talking about getting new dresses for her daughters. It had been a hard year. Long droughts, lost calves, and the general heaviness that came with ranch life. This trip to the nearest city in Texas was supposed to be light-hearted. It was supposed to be a chance for them to breathe again.

Her mother reached out and brushed a lock of honey-blonde hair behind Hannah’s ear.

“I saw the way you winced back there,” she said, studying her.

Hannah smiled sheepishly. “It was just a rut in the road.”

“You should lie back,” her mother suggested.

“I’m fine, Mama,” Hannah stammered. “I don’t want today to be about me needing rest. I want it to be about new dresses and sunshine…and maybe lemon tarts.”

Her mother smiled warmly. “We’ll have all three. Don’t you worry about that.”

Hannah blamed her fatigue on ranch work. Perhaps she couldn’t keep up with it. She assumed it was only natural.

Her father glanced back at them, the reins still steady in his hands. “You’ll be beating suitors away with a stick once you walk out of the tailors in that new blue silk your mother has been eyeing for you.”

“Papa,” Hannah groaned, her face flushing. “I’m not looking for suitors.”

“That’s a shame,” her father chuckled. “I’ve always liked the idea of threatening young men on our porch with a shotgun.”

Hannah rolled her eyes playfully as her parents laughed together. She allowed herself to lean her head back against the side of the carriage. The sky above was cloudless. It was too perfect. For the first time in weeks, Hannah felt a flicker of peace settle in her chest.

She just felt bad that Tilly couldn’t be here as well. Hannah had to remind herself that her little sister wanted to stay far away from this trip.

It wasn’t like the family was excluding her from anything. Staying with the Harpers was Tilly’s choice.

The horses continued moving at a gentle trot as the road curved around a small ravine. Her father’s voice was calming as he pointed out a hawk circling above. Hannah focused on the moment. It was nice to feel such peace.

She felt her eyelids closing. And then there was a sudden snap.

A thunderous crack shot through the air.

“Whoa!” Hannah’s father barked, yanking at the reins.

By then, Hannah’s eyes were wide open. She did not feel tired at all. Adrenaline rushed through her veins.

The horses gave high-pitched neighs as the carriage jerked violently.

The wheels caught on something Hannah couldn’t see. There was a lurch, and then the sound of wood splintering beneath them.

“Mama!” Hannah screamed, reaching out for her.

Her mother grabbed Hannah’s arm. Her grip was tight, but it wasn’t going to save her.

“Hold on!” her father shouted.

It was too late.

The world turned upside down.

The side of the carriage slammed into the dirt with a deafening crunch. Glass shattered. Wood groaned.

Hannah felt her body being thrown hard against the frame. It was crushed between the wall and her mother’s weight.

The agony came not a second later.

White-hot pain seared down her spine like lightning. The air was punched from her lungs.

Hannah tried to breathe, but she couldn’t.

Somebody screamed. Maybe it was her mother. Maybe herself. She couldn’t tell.

The ground twisted again as there was another impact. Hannah gasped as her vision blurred, the darkness bleeding into the edges.

“Mama,” she rasped, her hand scrambling out.

All she found was dirt and splintered wood.

The pain was overwhelming. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t see.

The last thing she heard before the world went silent was her father’s voice. Strangled.

Then, everything went black.

 

Chapter 1

Two years later…

The moment Hannah woke up, she knew it was going to be a bad day.

Her brown eyes blinked open to the early morning light filtering through her bedroom curtains. The ache was waiting for her already. It wasn’t gentle. It had weight. The heat low in her back radiated outward with every shallow breath she took.

She hadn’t even moved yet, and the pain still screamed through her muscles like it had been burning all night.

Hannah lay still and stared up at the ceiling. She was hoping that if she just waited long enough, it was going to fade.

It didn’t.

She shifted with a quiet breath. Pain flared sharp and fast. It was running like lightning down the base of her spine and then into her hips. She clenched her jaw and tried to keep the sound of her whimper to a quiet moan.

There was nobody to hear her cry out from here.

The ceiling above her bed was stained faintly with water damage from last spring’s storm. She stared at it as if it might have told her something.

How long had it been? Two years since the accident. It was a trip that was supposed to have been simple. Dresses for her and Tilly. A break from ranch work.

All of it ended in a disaster. Crushed and shattered inside and out.

Hannah let her eyes shut again for a moment. She saw it again. She was next to her mother. Her father’s voice was up front. There was warmth from the sunlight coming through the window.

And then there was noise. Pain. Everything broken.

Her hand moved slowly to her lower back. She pressed her fingers into it gently. The skin there felt hot beneath her nightgown. She had hoped this flare would have eased by now, but it had been three weeks.

Some days were better than others, but lately, the better days were fewer and further between.

The echo of the doctor’s words from the recovery bed still played in her head.

You’re lucky to walk at all.

She didn’t feel lucky.

Still, lying in bed didn’t feed the cattle. It certainly didn’t keep her younger sister from worrying herself sick.

Hannah bit her bottom lip and forced herself to sit up. The pain nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. A sharp cry slipped past her lips before she could stop it.

Her legs dangled over the edge of the bed as she waited for it to pass.

The morning air was crisp. Her window was cracked open slightly, the way she always left it. She liked to smell the ranch before she saw it.

She loved this land. Even now. Even with the pain.

Hannah reached for her shawl and draped it over her shoulders. Then, her hands went to the drawer, and she pulled out her day dress.

The process of dressing took time. Bending was nearly impossible. She moved like a woman twice her age, breathing carefully through each motion—all the while, trying not to cry out.

Finally, she was clothed. Her hair was still a mess, and her back was slightly hunched from the pain, but it was a small victory, nonetheless.

“Let’s try this,” Hannah said to herself before moving over to the vanity in the corner of her room.

She grabbed a silver comb that used to belong to her mother from atop her dresser and took a seat opposite the mirror. Hannah tried to gather her hair without looking at her reflection, but eventually, her eyes flicked to the mirror.

A pale face stared back. There were dark smudges beneath her brown eyes. She used to be brighter. Fuller in the cheeks. Her smile had once come easy.

Still, there was something unbroken in her gaze. Something that refused to fall away.

Once her hair had been gathered into a messy braid, she sighed in defeat. There was no way she could have tucked away all the loose strands of hair without spending more than thirty minutes in front of the mirror.

The wind was bound to pull at her locks throughout the day anyway. Hannah had to settle for an unfinished look.

After pushing herself to her feet, she took a deep breath. Her hair used to look better before the accident.

There was another bolt of pain. This one was longer. It was almost cruel in its timing.

Her knees buckled slightly, but she caught herself on the corner of the vanity. She stayed there for a long moment until it began to fade away.

“Just get through the morning,” Hannah whispered to herself.

The floor creaked beneath her as she moved toward the door.

***

The familiar scent of coffee and cornbread guided Hannah down the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. The first streaks of dawn were stretching across the sky in pale pinks and golds. Hannah sighed.

There was another long day ahead.

Michael Wheeler was already bustling about as he whistled low under his breath. He moved between the stove and the counter when Hannah settled her eyes on him. He had the calm precision of a man who had cooked thousands of breakfasts before this one.

“Morning, Wheeler,” Hannah greeted, gripping the back of a chair for just a moment longer than she meant to.

He glanced over his shoulder and gave a low grunt of acknowledgment, but his eyes narrowed immediately. “You’re favoring your left side again.”

Hannah forced a smile. “No worse than usual. Just stiff from sleeping wrong.”

Wheeler didn’t respond. He turned back to the stove and lifted the heavy skillet with a practiced hand. The smell of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen.

“I’m fine,” Hannah added quickly before easing herself into the nearest chair at the table.

“I never said you weren’t,” Wheeler replied.

She could hear the concern in his voice.

“I’ve got to get out of the barn before noon,” Hannah said, reaching for the mug he had already set on the table for her. “The east fence is still leaning badly from last week’s wind, and Jesse’s got the cattle rotation to check. We’ll both be out most of the day.”

Wheeler snorted. “I suppose you think I’m going to believe you’re in any shape to mend a fence today?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Hannah said with a firmer voice. “You know as well as I do what happens if the herd gets loose again. We can’t afford another loss.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to break yourself in half to keep things running,” Wheeler replied. “You’re still healing.”

Hannah looked at him with steady eyes despite the dull throb in her back. “I healed two years ago. What is left now is just a part of life. I can live with it…but I can’t live with losing the ranch.”

Wheeler turned to face her. His hands were still stained with flour, and the towel slung over his shoulder looked like it had seen better days.

“Hannah—” he started.

“I’m fine,” she cut him off. “Truly. You’ve done enough worrying for the both of us lately.”

Wheeler pressed his lips into a tight line. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he sighed and turned back to his cooking.

The skillet clanked down on the stove again.

“You know, your mama used to be just as stubborn,” Wheeler said.

Hannah smiled faintly. “And you loved her for it.”

“I did,” Wheeler said quietly. “She and your father took great care of this ranch. They took care of their people, too. They paid us fairly and fed us better. This ranch had a soul back then.”

Hannah’s throat tightened at his honest words.

“We’re still standing,” she whispered.

“Barely,” Wheeler replied before placing a plate of bacon and cornbread in front of her. “You’ve been bleeding yourself dry just to keep the lights on.”

Hannah didn’t respond right away. Her hands trembled slightly as she picked at a piece of cornbread without meeting his gaze.

“I never thought we’d run through what they left us so fast,” she admitted. “But after the accident, I couldn’t do it alone. I hired the hands we needed. I paid them what was fair. And then, they left anyway.”

“They didn’t leave because of you,” Wheeler said. “They left because they were greedy and didn’t want to stick through the lean years.”

Hannah gave a small nod. “Now it’s just you and Jesse. Neither of you are getting what you should.”

“We’re still here, aren’t we?” Wheeler replied. “Still cooking. Still riding. Still patching things together.”

Hannah smiled again, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m not sure how much longer we can keep patching through.”

Silence settled between them. The kitchen felt heavier with it. Hannah stared down at the plate she had hardly touched.

Wheeler sighed and turned away, busying himself with another pot.

He had known her for her whole life. He had known Hannah’s parents for longer.

If there was something wrong, he could always tell. Sometimes, Hannah wondered why she even tried to mask her feelings.

The ache in her back had settled into a slow burn. It was constant and cruel. Every movement was agony.

Still, Hannah would not lie in bed and let the land rot around her. This ranch was her family’s legacy. More importantly, it was Tilly’s future. She couldn’t let it slip away.

Hannah sat up straighter and reached for her fork. She began to eat through the pain. By now, it was starting to settle in her gut, too.

The clatter of Tilly’s boots echoed down the hallway before she even came into view. A moment later, the kitchen door swung open, and the eighteen-year-old woman came into view.

“Smells like heaven in here,” Tilly announced, grinning as she flopped into the chair across from Hannah.

She reached for a strip of bacon and popped it into her mouth before anybody could stop her.

“Mmm, Wheeler…you outdo yourself every time,” Tilly said, chewing on her mouthful.

Wheeler let out a gruff snort but didn’t look up from the pan. “You say that every morning, Miss Tilly.”

“Doesn’t make it less true,” Tilly replied.

Hannah watched her sister with a soft smile. Tilly had always brought a lightness into any room she entered. Hannah clung to that lightness, guarding it like a flame she couldn’t let go out.

It was one of the reasons why Hannah’s heart broke so often. Tilly was a beautiful young woman. Hannah always thought of her as the better version of herself.

Though she was only a few years younger than Hannah, she had thicker hair. Brighter eyes. Softer skin. Blacker eyelashes.

She didn’t belong on a ranch like this, amongst all the dirt and pain.

One of the only distinct differences between them was their hair. Tilly always pinned hers up into a bun, while Hannah preferred to have hers down.

“Are you headed out to the garden today?” Hannah asked, trying to sound casual.

Tilly nodded as she pulled her plate closer. “I thought I’d see if anything has sprouted near the back fence…if the rabbits didn’t get to it first.”

“I thought you said you were going to help Jesse with the tack room?”

“Oh, I am,” Tilly said. “After. Can’t let the horses outshine the garden.”

Hannah chuckled. “Just don’t overdo it.”

“I won’t.” Tilly gave her a quick look. “You either.”

Hannah’s smile was struggling to keep itself attached to her lips. “Always bossing me around.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Tilly stood up and kissed her sister on the cheek. “I’ll see you after lunch. Don’t work too hard.”

As the kitchen door swung shut behind her, the room seemed to deflate. The quiet returned. Hannah exhaled slowly, letting her smile fall away.

Wheeler glanced up from the stove. “You hide it well, but you’re barely holding it together.”

“I have to,” Hannah replied. “She’s young. She needs to believe things will be alright.”

Wheeler set down the spoon he had been using to stir and crossed the kitchen to pour himself a second cup of coffee. He leaned against the counter, studying Hannah with those sharp eyes of his.

“You know I ain’t blind,” Wheeler said after a long moment. “I see how you wince just standing still. That isn’t just ‘healing wrong’, Hannah. That’s pain you carry with every step.”

Hannah tightened her fingers around the mug and looked down at the table. She had been holding her cards close to her chest. Maybe it was time to show them to Wheeler.

After all, how was she supposed to survive by avoiding the people who were trying to help her?

“I’ve been worse lately,” she admitted. “Every morning, I think maybe today will be better…and every morning, it’s not. But I can’t just stop and fall apart.”

“You shouldn’t have to carry this whole place alone,” Wheeler replied.

“I’m not alone,” Hannah argued, though her voice lacked conviction. “You’re here. Jesse’s here.”

“I’m nearing sixty, Hannah.” Wheeler sighed. “And Jesse’s just one man. The rest left because you couldn’t keep paying them, and that’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve managed things better,” Hannah muttered.

“You did your best,” Wheeler said gently. “You kept food on the table, the cattle alive, and your sister safe. That’s a lot more than most folks could’ve done with what you were handed.”

Hannah looked up at Wheeler, her eyes full of exhaustion. “It’s not enough. We’ve got a loan due in two months. The north pasture needs re-fencing. The water pump has been acting up again…and I’m not even sure we’ll have the hay to last through summer. I wake up in pain and go to bed worried. Every day. I…I’m running out of options.”

Wheeler didn’t speak at first. He sipped his coffee, then set the mug down with a quiet thud.

“There’s one option,” he said finally. “But you may not like it.”

Hannah’s brows shot up. “What is it?”

“Put in for a mail-order groom,” Wheeler said.

The words came so suddenly. It was as if Wheeler had limited time to get them out of his mouth.

“Excuse me?” Hannah blinked.

“You heard me, miss,” Wheeler replied calmly.

“I-I…Wheeler, have you lost your mind?” she stammered.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t flinch. Hannah could tell he had been expecting this reaction.

“You need help,” Wheeler continued, with his arms crossed over his chest. “I mean, daily sunup to sundown help. You can’t hire anyone. You can’t afford it. But you could offer something else.”

Hannah stood slowly, though if she could, she would have jumped to her feet instead. “I’m not going to sell myself off like cattle.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Wheeler sighed. “I know you, Hannah. I know your heart…and I know you’d never let a man near you unless you trusted him. But this is not about romance. This is about surviving. You need another body on this land. Someone who can help you carry the load.”

Hannah stared at him—stunned.

“You’re serious,” she said.

“I am,” Wheeler replied. “You post an ad and be honest about the situation. Plenty of men out there want a second chance at life. Somebody who wants work, stability, and land. You’ll be giving both of you a lifeline.”

Hannah was pacing now. Her movements were stiff and uneven.

“It’s crazy,” she said. “Bringing a stranger into this house. Into Tilly’s life. What if he’s not who he says he is?”

“That’s why you write the ad all proper,” Wheeler responded. “Ask for letters. Take your time. You’re not desperate yet, but you will be if you keep burning yourself down just to put food on the table.”

Hannah stopped and turned to him. Her hand was pressed flat against the edge of the counter for support.

“I don’t want pity,” she whispered.

“This ain’t pity.” Wheeler gave her a sad smile. “It’s hope…and it doesn’t make you weak to need help. It makes you human.”

Hannah closed her eyes. The silence in the kitchen swelled again. This time, it was heavy with the weight of choices.

How was she supposed to make this kind of decision? How did she know if it was going to be the right one?

Her face was unreadable when she looked at Wheeler again. “I’ll think about it.”

Wheeler gave her a curt nod. “That’s all I’m asking.”

***

Hannah stood on the front porch with her arms folded tightly across her waist. The breeze was tugging at the hem of her shawl. The boards beneath her feet were creaking softly as she shifted her weight.

The fields shimmered with dew. The fences around the property stood like fragile bones in the distance. The barn’s roof slumped at one end, curling at the edges.

Everything looked manageable, but Hannah knew better. She knew how much work it took to keep this place breathing.

Hannah closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. This was a great spot to think, and despite all the pain Hannah was enduring in her life, the front porch of the Dalton ranch brought her a little peace.

Loose strands of hair tickled the sides of her face. Hannah dreaded to look at her reflection.

All the effort she had put into her braid this morning was for nothing. It always ended up looking disheveled by midday.

She opened her eyes again just in time to spot some movement near the south pasture. Jesse.

The ranch hand worked in silence. A shovel was slung over his shoulder as he dragged a fence post with the other hand. Even from a distance, Hannah could see the tension on his face.

He worked hard. Harder than most men twice his age. But the weight of his mood never lightened.

Hannah watched him set the post down before driving it into the soil with practiced, sharp strikes. Dirt flew everywhere. He moved like he was trying to outrun something…or maybe fight it.

Only Wheeler and Jesse remained now. They were Hannah’s last hope.

Hannah tried to make sense of it all in her head. How had she managed to let the state of the ranch get this bad? Was it a minuscule mistake somewhere back down the road?

Or had she sealed the fate of the Dalton ranch with one big blunder?

Not long after, she heard the sound. A faint hum of a familiar voice.

Tilly.

Her sister came into view and knelt near the garden beds before beginning to tug at the weeds. She tilted her head to the side and inspected young squash plants poking their green heads above the dirt.

She was humming a song their mother used to sing. Her face was soft and content.

Hannah watched her for a long time as a bittersweet ache rose behind her ribs.

Tilly was so full of wonder still. She was so blissfully unaware of how thin the margins had grown around them. She had no idea about the unpaid feed bills or the costs of their fence posts. Hannah wanted to keep it that way.

That was the point of all this.

Tilly looked up suddenly and spotted her older sister. Her eyes lit up.

“Come and see!” she exclaimed, holding up a sprout. “The squash is already peeking out!”

Hannah forced a smile and lifted a hand in greeting. “I’ll be right there!”

Tilly beamed and turned back to her plants, humming again.

Hannah stayed rooted to the porch, her smile fading as soon as her sister looked away. She couldn’t do it much longer. Not like this.

The pain, the work, the endless juggling of books and duties. It wasn’t just exhausting. It was dangerous. With only Wheeler and Jesse to rely on, it often felt like the whole ranch was a house of cards.

One big gust and it was going to collapse.

Hannah’s thoughts turned back to Wheeler’s words over breakfast. She had brushed it off at the time, but they had a hold on her.

Just the memory of the suggestion made her tense. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Marriage was something sacred. It was supposed to be something one chose with their heart.

Not something to be bought like seed or cattle.

But what did Hannah have left to trade besides her own future?

A mail-order groom. A stranger. A man with strong hands and no ties, coming for labor instead of love. It felt shameful. It felt like admitting defeat.

Yet…what choice did she have?

Hannah watched Tilly again, laughing softly to herself as she brushed dirt off her skirt and moved to the next row.

Tilly deserved so much more than this fragile life. She deserved softness, books, and adventures. Maybe even a family of her own one day.

Not a lifetime of bailing hay and nursing broken gates.

If Hannah had to marry somebody that she didn’t love to keep the ranch and protect her sister, then maybe it was a sacrifice worth making.

The thought settled heavily in her chest.

It was all up to Hannah now. The decision, as painful as it was, began to form roots.

Hannah took one final look across the ranch and turned to go back inside.

She had a letter to write.

 

Chapter 2

The diner was half-empty, save for a couple of ranch hands nursing mugs of coffee and the quiet clatter of utensils behind the counter. The morning sunlight spilled through the dusty windows, falling across Nathaniel Laughlin’s plate.

He stared at the breakfast he had barely touched.

Nathaniel sat stiffly at the table with his shoulders hunched. The eggs had gone cold, and his coffee was lukewarm by now. Still, he stared at his plate like the heat might make a comeback.

Sheriff Dean Hollinger was chewing thoughtfully across from him. He had been waiting for a long time to say something.

“You know…” Dean swallowed his mouthful. “For a man who hasn’t had a proper meal in days, you sure are good at wasting food.”

Nathaniel didn’t look up. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re never hungry,” Dean replied.

The sheriff leaned back in his chair, crossing his boots beneath the table.

“It’s funny how that always seems to go hand in hand with not sleeping, not talking, and not doing a thing but wandering from one job to the next like your boots are the only part of you still working,” Dean said.

Nathaniel sighed deeply. His eyes were fixed on the coffee in his hand. “Are you done, or is there more?”

“There’s always more,” Dean said with a small grin. “Especially when you’re letting your life rot right in front of you.”

“I appreciate the poetry, friend,” Nathaniel replied.

“I’m serious,” Dean said. “You’ve got good hands and a sharp head. People around here could use someone like you.”

He shook his head in response. “Not anymore.”

Dean’s voice dropped a little. It was careful but firm.

“You haven’t been a doctor since you left the New Mexico Territory,” Dean said. “It doesn’t mean you’re not still capable. It’s not like the knowledge disappeared.”

At that point, Nathaniel met his gaze. “It’s not about what I know, Dean.”

“No,” Dean replied. “It’s about what you won’t let go of.”

The ex-doctor looked away. However, it only made Dean lean forward.

“It’s been over a year,” Dean said. “I’m not saying that’s long enough to fix it. Maybe nothing ever does…but you’re still here. You’re still breathing. That’s got to mean something.”

It was difficult to breathe. Nathaniel’s fingers tightened around the coffee cup.

“You loved her,” Dean softened his tone. “We all know that. And you’re never going to forget her. But she wouldn’t want this. The silence, the drifting…not the man who gave up on himself.”

Nathaniel said nothing. He had a special talent now. Words that were meant to pierce through him bounced off his skin instead.

He wouldn’t open himself up to people anymore. It was too painful. Dealing with the truth might have broken him forever.

Realizing his words of encouragement were not going to influence Nathaniel, Dean tried a different approach.

“You know, Doc Avery finally packed it in,” the sheriff changed his tone. “He headed back East to be with his daughter.”

“He talked about it last time I saw him.” Nathaniel gave him a quiet nod.

“Well, it’s official now,” Dean replied. “That means this town doesn’t have a doctor anymore…and we both know it needs one.”

Nathaniel could see Dean’s face without looking at him. His eyebrows were raised meaningfully. He was hinting at something.

“There are other doctors.” Nathaniel shrugged one shoulder.

“Not around here,” Dean said. “The closest one is two towns over, and he’s got his hands full already. The folks around here need someone local. Someone they can trust.”

“You know why I stopped.” Nathaniel gave him a look.

“I know what you think,” Dean said, kindness in his words. “But I also know the kind of man you were before all this…before you started trying to disappear.”

He was never comfortable talking about what his life had become. His jaw clenched.

Dean was only trying to help. That was what Nathaniel had to keep telling himself.

“You used to save people,” Dean continued. “Not just with your hands. You listened to them. You gave them hope. This town could use a little hope, don’t you think?”

“I’m not that man anymore,” Nathaniel said, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Dean replied. “He’s still in there. Maybe not as loud as he used to be, but he’s not gone.”

Nathaniel looked out of the window and said nothing. Dust was swirling in the sunlight. Somewhere down the street a dog barked once.

Dean didn’t push further. He just stood up, leaving a few coins on the table for their meal.

“Think about it,” he said, laying a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder before heading toward the door.

Nathaniel didn’t shift his gaze from the window.

Dean paused at the door and sighed. That was when Nathaniel knew he wasn’t finished.

“There’s no shame in starting over, Nathaniel,” he said. “But you’ve got to start.”

Nathaniel sat still long after Dean left. The corner of his mouth was drawn tight, and the tension in his shoulders wasn’t leaving him.

The murmur of the diner resumed around him. There were chairs scraping along the floor and spoons clinking at a few tables. The low hum of conversation felt far away from Nathaniel.

It was like he was sitting beneath a layer of glass.

He hated when Dean brought up the past. Not because the man was cruel. Far from it.

Dean was one of the only people who had stood by him through the worst of it. He had tried to track down the outlaws that killed Nathaniel’s wife. He had spent sleepless nights hunched over paperwork—chasing leads.

However, every time the sheriff’s steady voice tried to guide him toward something better, it reminded Nathaniel about just how far he had fallen. He had buried himself beneath the grief he refused to let go.

He took a sip of coffee, the bitterness grounding him for a moment. Dean’s words were still echoing in his head.

You used to save people…you gave them hope.

Nathaniel moved his hand away from the mug and ran it through his brown hair instead. He was surprised. He had never been more melancholy in his life, yet his hair refused to fall out. There were a lot of men with hard lives in this town, and most of them were bald.

A lump formed in his throat as the memory of Ruth swayed in front of him. She always used to joke that he would end up pulling out his hair from the stress of his job. Yes, it was stressful at times. But Nathaniel could live with such stress.

It was trying to figure out how to live without her that was the problem.

He had been drifting for so long that he wasn’t sure if there was any other way for him to live. Not with purpose. Not like before.

Nathaniel shifted in his seat and nudged a folded paper somebody had left behind on the bench beside him with his knee. He picked it up without thinking and unfolded it slowly.

It wasn’t the local paper. The ink was from a town farther east.

A smaller print. There were more ads than news.

Nathaniel might have set it aside if it wasn’t for one odd line halfway down the page.

Seeking Mail-Order Groom—woman with younger sister, struggling to maintain property, offers honest work and quiet life to man of character.

He froze, his eyes lingering on the bold headline. He read the words again.

Nathaniel leaned back, gripping the paper tighter than he ever meant to. A ranch. Somewhere remote, no doubt. Hard work. Quiet.

A place no one would expect to find him.

It was hard to tell what compelled him to read the words a third time, but he did. Then, a fourth.

Part of him wanted to scoff. Marrying a stranger. He could already hear Dean’s voice teasing him.

Though there was something in the tone of the ad. It wasn’t desperate…but there was weariness. Honesty. It was a woman shouldering more than she was supposed to for the people she loved.

It stirred something in him. Not hope, but something near it.

He set the paper down and ran a hand over his face.

He did not want to think of Ruth.

Her face came anyway. The soft smile, the way her eyes used to search his like she already knew what he was thinking.

Nathaniel pressed his fingers into his brow.

“Why, Dean?” he muttered under his breath.

He was angry. Angry at Dean for pushing. Angry at himself for feeling tempted. Angry that no matter how far he wandered, something always clawed at his heels…begging him to try again.

His gaze drifted back to the paper.

Dean had opened his eyes to how much time had passed since Ruth’s death. That was the funny thing about time. It never slowed for anyone.

Maybe he needed something to get his mind off this overwhelming guilt and heartache. Maybe hard work was going to do the trick.

Nathaniel took a deep breath before slowly tearing the section of the paper free, folding it, and putting it into his pocket.

He didn’t need to love again, but if somebody out there needed help, Nathaniel still had something to offer.