A Bride for the Mining Heir (Preview)

Chapter One

Near Virginia City, Nevada, 1884

Jagged bolts of lightning illuminated the uneven, scrubby countryside and rough hills beyond the mine’s entrance. Snapping open his gold pocket watch, Landon checked the time. It was late, even for him. What did he have to go home to but an empty house and aching reminders that the people he loved most in the world were now gone? He barely felt the stirring of hunger, let alone the gnawing edge of having eaten nothing since breakfast.

Thunder groaned in the distance as the storm moved in. The air was electric with it, even inside the mining office. The building started out the same as most- crudely erected lumber, but it was soon rebuilt to last, stone by stone. It was still no beauty, as some of the homes in Virgina City were, but it was sturdy.

Landon sat at his father’s old desk, the golden etched McCord nameplate stamped into the corner. He shut the pocket watch and rubbed his thumb over the engraving of his grandfather’s name. The watch was three generations old, the men before him, come and gone far too soon.

Landon hadn’t been more than a babe in his mother’s arms when his father moved them out West. Lawrence McCord had been seeking gold and had found silver instead. He’d inherited a small fortune upon his father’s passing. Though he had no mining experience and had been raised to take over his father’s position as a banker, he up and sold his house and shares in the family business in favor of going West. He proved that his will and the power of his own two hands were equal to any challenge.

Landon’s gaze travelled the office. Memories of his father sitting in the very desk and chair that Landon now occupied, were still vivid in his mind.

His father had been a robust man, and though he was humble, he’d seemed like a king to Landon. Lawrence was never sick a day in his life until a few years ago, when a fever brought him low. He was gone within a week. By then, Landon had been working alongside his father in the office, helping to run the mine. That included the burdens and responsibilities of running it.

Landon’s gaze traveled to the window again. The wind had picked up and every time a bolt of lightning flashed, he could see dirt whipping past. He scrubbed a hand over tired eyes that felt as grainy as if he was standing outside in the burgeoning storm.

A movement in the dark night caught Landon’s eye a moment before the heavy office door banged open with the wind. It was a rainless night, and likely would remain so despite the stormy skies, but Alonzo Crow was lathered like a horse who had been ridden too hard for far too long.

He slammed the door shut and alarmingly bolted it.

He turned, wild eyed, soaked through with sweat. His white shirt clung damply to his body. He swept his hat off and wiped sweat from his forehead. Great heaving breaths sawed in and out of his lungs as he gulped for air.

Landon stood up so abruptly that the heavy chair juddered along the wooden floorboards. He nearly knocked the kerosene lamp right over. He quickly threw out a hand, righting it before it could cause a disaster.

His boots banged off the floorboards as he stalked over to his best friend. They were an unlikely pairing in refined society, but out in the West, it didn’t matter that Alonzo’s father had worked in the mines for Landon’s. They were as close as brothers. Landon knew how lucky he was to have someone by his side that he could trust. In the rough years after losing his father, Alonzo had been his mooring, his voice of calm and reason. In the past few weeks, after Landon’s mother fell ill and passed, Alonzo had seen him through the shock and grief of it.

“What’s happened?” Landon knew it wasn’t a mining disaster. The day’s shift was over hours ago.

“Sheriff Northcutt and Orville,” Alonzo panted, doubling over and grasping his knees as though that made it easier to suck in air. “I was heading to the saloon, hoping to see Jenna, but instead I overheard them talking.”

Landon’s heart slammed against his ribs. For once, he held his peace about Alonzo’s hopeless infatuation. He privately thought that his best friend went to the saloon far too often, not for drink, but for a hand of cards. He wouldn’t go nearly so often, but he was hopelessly in love with the saloon owner’s daughter.

Landon waited a few moments for Alonzo to catch his breath and straighten. He wouldn’t get anything out of him by letting loose a stream of questions, though they battered the inside of his skull.

“They were sitting right near the open window, the fools, and clearly worse off for wear being as it’s well into the evening,” Alonzo finally said. He cleared his throat roughly. “I don’t believe they would have talked so freely otherwise. I only heard a little bit, but a few sentences were enough. I crept away and ran straight here to tell you.

Alonzo didn’t live far from the saloon, and the fact that he hadn’t even taken the time to go and saddle up his horse but had instead run miles from town straight to the mine, was alarming.

“Orville talked about an accident happening to you. Something that Northcutt would enforce as such. Of course the sheriff would take charge of any investigation into a death like that. All those instances these past few weeks, Landon. They were intentional. It was Orville, or most likely, he was paying someone.”

Landon had told Alonzo just a few days ago about all the odd occurrences that had him concerned. Safety at the mine was paramount, but the week before, there had been a small cave in where there was no business being one. He’d tripped coming down the office’s steps two days ago and found one board weak, but he figured it was just time to replace it. His horse, known for being perfectly evenly tempered, had nearly thrown him just over a week ago because his saddle had come uncinched, and when he’d checked it over, it too was worn to fraying. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually had checked it, and the saddle was a family heirloom, so while he’d thought it unusual, it wasn’t impossible.

Shock immediately froze Landon immobile. He was stuck in the cold flow of it, so frigid that his veins seemed to be filled with ice. The next moment, he was burning, fueled by a righteous anger.

Orville hadn’t just worked for the company since the year after his father started it. He’d also married Landon’s mother after his father died. He was a trusted friend of the family, and though Landon didn’t always like the man or agree with him, to hear that he’d plotted something as foul as murder, was so appalling that he could barely even comprehend. It was worse still, that Northcutt- Virginia City’s sheriff, had always been good friends with Orville. Everyone knew Northcutt was rough around the edges and not above taking bribes and general corruption, but outright killing?

Landon’s mother had passed just a few weeks ago. Had her death addled the man? It was all so unbelievable.

Alonzo’s desperate tone broke through the haze surrounding Landon. “You have to leave here. There’s nothing else for it.”

“I can’t leave,” Landon hissed. He raked his hands through his hair roughly, using the burning sting to center himself. “This is my father’s company. I can’t just abandon it. I won’t.”

Alonzo stepped forward and wrapped his hand around Landon’s bicep. He tried to tug it free, but Alonzo didn’t budge. His hands were large and rough. He wasn’t a tall man, but he was built strong from hours of hard labor working as a wheel wright.

“You need to get out of here,” Alonzo urged. “You can’t watch your back every single second of the day. Not when Orville has Northcutt and who knows how many other men willing to do his bidding. You need to ride far, far away from here and stay hidden until we can come up with a plan.”

“I’m staying. We can fight it out. Orville might have hired men, but I have the love and support of this entire town.”

“That might be true, but fondness and adoration aren’t going to stop a bullet or a blade from finding you. These men do love you, but they’re miners. They’re not trained fighters, and they’re darned sure not trained killers.”

Alonzo was right, and it took the threat of someone else getting hurt for Landon to see reason. He was a good shot, but what was he going to do? Get in a gunfight with Orville? It was a kill or be killed situation if he stayed, and if he initiated it, it was his word against Orville’s. He’d never shot anything more than tin cans and the occasional rabbit. What made him think he could maim his own stepfather, or worse? It was unthinkable that he’d even point a gun at a man, no matter what he’d done.

“If I leave, Orville will know that I know of his plans,” Landon protested, his mind whirring, thoughts racing. “He’ll send someone out to hunt me. I’d have no one then. I’d be utterly alone, in unfamiliar country, completely vulnerable.”

“They’d have to find you first,” Alonza retorted, grasping onto what Landon had just said. “Your mom has kin out East, yes?”

“A few distant cousins and aunts.”

“But you did write them when she passed.”

“I did, but no one ever responded.”

“No one has to know that. For all anyone knows, you received word that the last family you have left are in distress and you’re needed out East.”

“That’s not only dishonest, it’s unbelievable. Orville would see right through that. It would put unsuspecting, innocent people in danger.”

Alonzo paused, sweat soaked brow creasing into a hard frown. “You were talking last week about taking a trip to scout some land down south. You weren’t specific about a timeframe, but I could tell Orville you left to do just that. I’ll stay and report everything back to you. I’ll write or get word to you somehow. You’d just have to lay low until we figure out how we can safely fight this, or how we can prove that Orville wants you dead. Northcutt won’t confess. We need real evidence in order to get any justice at all, and a sheriff from somewhere else to carry it out.”

“I can’t leave.” Landon tried one last time, desperately, to appeal to his best friend.

Alonzo nodded. “I know this will be impossible, but I can’t think of anything else. We just need some time. A day or two, even, to think clearly. We don’t have that. You could be in danger right now.”

Landon sucked in a breath so sharply that it burned all the way to the bottom of his lungs. As much as he hated running, he knew that Alonzo was right. If he stayed, it wouldn’t just be him that was in danger. In trying to protect him, Alonzo could get hurt. Anyone could get hurt. His father once said that even one life was too high a price to pay for all the silver in the world.

Landon knew that he’d never be his father, but to brazenly put people at risk made him sick. That wasn’t the kind of man he wanted to be.

“Landon. We need to go. Now.”

Alonzo’s frantic tone shook Landon. He glanced around the office, longing to take something. Anything. But if he did, it would be a dead giveaway that he’d fled. Orville would know if anything was out of place.

In the end, he bowed his head and moved frantically. He gathered up enough notes from the safe in the back to make a possible land purchase in the south likely. He shut the safe carefully after. He had no time to stop at his house in town. He’d have no change of clothes, no weapon, no blankets, and no food and no water. His temples pounded, head aching. In a few hours, the pain would be blinding.

“Where’s Jet?” Alonzo snatched the lantern off the desk.

“In the stable.”

“Thank goodness.” Alonzo inhaled sharply, taking his first deep breath since he’d stumbled into the office. His forehead still glistened with sweat.

It finally hit Landon just how much Alonza had risked eavesdropping on that conversation and coming to warn him. If Orville truly did want Landon dead and he’d found out that Alonzo overhead his plotting, he would have stopped at nothing to silence him and hide the blood on his hands.

Alonza’s hand thumped down roughly on Landon’s shoulder. He steered him wordlessly to the door. “You can ride east. To the gully. You know the spot. I’ll ride out tomorrow with everything you’ll need, and hopefully, some kind of plan.”

“They might follow you,” Landon pointed out.

“They’d have no reason to assume I know anything. I’ll bring tools and the wagon. Make it look like I’m going out to repair one that broke down. You don’t have to worry about John,” Alonzo said, referencing the man who had apprenticed and trained him as a wheelwright, and who he now worked alongside of at their shop in town. “He won’t ask any questions, so I won’t have to involve him. I’ll pay him for the job so that it appears legit.”

Alonzo shuttered the lamp, plunging the office into darkness. He wrenched the door and stepped out ahead of Landon.

They hurried to the mine’s stables, lightning blazing jagged across the sky, thunder crashing and cracking close on its heels as the storm set in. The wind whipped up dust and sand with a fury, sending gritty sprays of it into their faces.

Landon blinked hard against the stinging assault. He forged forward, blocking the wind’s path as much as he could for Alonzo behind him. His heart thrashed. He almost expected, at any second, to be ambushed or shot at, but there was nothing but the low groans of thunder in the distance.

They burst into the dark stable, breathing as if they’d run a great distance. All the horses and pit ponies were already bedded down for the night. Jet was in his stall, the last one on the right.

Landon made his way over without the aid of a lantern, at least until Alonzo fumbled to light one behind him. He swiped the grime from his eyes and got busy saddling his horse. The big gelding was named for his jet-black color.

“I’ll need some white paint, if you can manage that,” Landon tossed over his shoulder. “Jet’s too easily recognized.”

The other horses were used to Landon’s scent. He’d always arrived early in the morning and left Jet there with Ned, who was in charge of the stable, but he often popped in and out throughout the day.

He saddled Jet as quickly as the stiff new saddle would allow.

“I’ll find some,” Alonzo promised. “Or take care of Jet and get you a different horse.”

He moved with Landon as he led Jet to the stable’s doors. Alonzo extinguished the lantern and came to stand shoulder to shoulder with Landon.

His best friend clapped him hard, his fingers biting down through Landon’s cotton shirt. “Be safe. Be strong. We’ll find a way back here, I promise. You won’t lose this place. I know it’s not just a mine. It’s your heart and soul.”

Landon could do nothing but swallow down the bitter acid coating the back of his tongue. He quickly threw his arm around Alonzo in silent thanks. He bowed his head and briefly rested his forehead against Alonzo’s before whirling and mounting up. He tore out of the stable, giving Jet his head as he spurred him into the country. It didn’t matter that it was dark. He didn’t need the moon or the flashes of lightning to guide the way. He knew every single inch of the country surrounding the mine for miles.

He knew the territory for miles, but there would come a point, an invisible line, a boundary that he’d reach, that would be unfamiliar. Land he’d never traveled. Places he’d never seen. Countryside foreign and maybe even threatening.

He was leaving everything he knew and loved behind. Ahead of him was only uncertainty.

If he trusted anyone, it was Alonzo, but this was a great burden, and a great danger, he was taking on.

Lightning flared in front of him, and when Landon turned around for just an instant, he couldn’t make out anything but the dark smudges of buildings. He turned back around and rode hard because he had no other choice but to let the darkness swallow him whole.

Chapter Two

Fellingworth Kansas

Briar’s back, arms, and shoulders ached. Her hands were raw and blistered. She was soaked through with sweat, her skirts dirty. Dung clung to her once shiny boots, and she could barely catch her breath, but as she stared at the stall she’d just helped muck out, a tiny trickle of pride warmed her.

She straightened and leaned hard against the shovel. She faced the woman who had been her closest neighbor, newest friend, and her makeshift teacher over the past six days. A smile cut across Della Knoll’s face. It was so wide that the corners of her eyes crinkled and the cinnamon sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her tanned nose jumped and danced. Della was so capable that it was hard to believe she was only a year older than Briar. She seemed to have amassed lifetimes of wisdom already.

“I don’t know how you can do all the chores at your farm and then come over here and help get me started.”

“Oh, you’ve been long started,” Della said, passing that off easily. She waved a hand around the barn. “You were up before the sun milking cows. You and Ma had breakfast made, you got the twins cleaned up and dressed. You fed the chickens, the pigs, and the horses all on your own. You checked on the cows. That’s the work of multiple hands, and all within the day’s first few hours. You’re ever bit as capable as I am.”

It wasn’t true, but Briar would forever be grateful for Della’s encouragement, as well as everything else that she and her mother, Hallie, had done. They had their own farm miles down the road, yet they’d come without hesitation and had taken care of the twins and a farm that wasn’t their own, after they’d received the terrible news of the accident.

It had taken Briar nearly two weeks to reach her aunt and uncle’s farm. She’d come as quickly as she could, but Philadelphia was a world away. Thankfully, the journey was made fairly easy by train, but it was still hard travelling for her. She was fearful at first, scared of being truly alone in a foreign place, but as the miles wore on the scenery changed over and over again, she’d lost her fear. All the while, Hallie and Della stayed with the children, spelling each other off on alternating nights so they could see to their own property and animals.

She’d been half terrified throughout the journey, the other half numb with grief and resigned to the harsh realities of life. Despite it all, she’d observed the changing scenery with a keen eye, trying to discern for herself if all that she’d heard about the West was true.

The West didn’t appear the least bit as godless as her aunt warned her, but it was open. Sparton in some places, fledgling in others. Some cities were bustling and teeming with life of every variety, while others were nothing more than a collection of clapboard buildings.

“Besides. You travelled all the way here alone.” Della had a keen eye for reading her thoughts. “The furthest I’ve ever been is Kansas City and even going that far has sometimes struck fear into me. Not that I’d let it show, but you can be sure that I felt it.”

Hallie seemed to know half of Kansas, and she’d appealed to friends in Wichita. Mr. Callingwood was waiting for Briar on the platform when she’d stepped from the train. He took care of loading all her trunks into his wagon and he took on the arduous task of her seeing her safe some forty miles East. The wagon was slow, hard going. The endless planes of Kansas, so flat to the naked eye, were actually quite rough to travel. Briar had no idea how her guide knew where he was going. They’d had to camp several nights, but Mr. Callingwood was adept at making a fire. He cooked every meal, saw to the horses, and let her sleep in the covered wagon while he laid underneath. He wasn’t a young man, but in the morning, he’d appear as spry as if he hadn’t spent a hard night on the chill ground.

Della picked up the full wheelbarrow, breaking through Briar’s reverie. She pushed it outside of the barn. She paused in the hot afternoon sunlight before she dumped it, adding to a pile that seemed to Briar’s mind, to resemble a mountain.

Briar glanced across the yard, her attention stolen by two streaking blurs in the form of her five-year-old niece and nephew, racing across the patchy lawn in front of the house.

“Give me a needle and thread, bolts of fabric, and the most complicated design any day, and I’d be more than equal to the task, but this?” Briar raised her arms overhead to stretch out her sore muscles. She rubbed the small of her back after, wincing at the sharp pain.

“This is like anything else.” Della’s voice never lost its encouraging note. “You learn slowly, a little bit each day, until you’re confident.”

Nothing weighed more heavily on Briar’s mind than the twins.

They ran and played like they were happy children, darting past Hallie as she made her way to the fledgling garden. It seemed early to Briar for planting, but she’d come a long way and the weather in Kansas was different than it had been in Philadelphia.

For all the twins’ seeming exuberance, they were quiet. They were the sweetest children, with lovely auburn hair and inquisitive brown eyes, but their silence spoke to the trauma they’d endured. One morning, their parents had hitched up the wagon and taken them to Hallie and Della’s farm while they went to see about a bull for sale, and they hadn’t returned.

That was the new reality of their life. Five was far, far too young to fully understand the painful workings of life and death.

Briar bent her head, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to do this.”

Della brushed Briar’s wrist with her calloused fingertips. “I know it’s overwhelming. It’s a big change. It says a lot about a person, that you’d come all this way and take on a foundling ranch and two small children. They’d have no one without you.”

“They’ve had you and your mother. You’re both a blessing. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Della’s cheeks pinked slightly. She had an old hat mashed onto her brow to protect her from the sun, but she swiped it off and wiped her hand over her damp chestnut hair. “We’ve just done what we can. That’s the important part. Just doing what you’re able.”

“I don’t mean to contradict you, but what I’m able to do alone will never be enough.”

“No, you’ll have to hire some hands, but we can put the word out.”

Briar swallowed nervously. The funds her aunt and uncle left were paltry at best. When the wagon turned over, both horses had to be shot.

They had two young horses left, but they were saddle horses, not a team. There was no team any longer, but there was a pair of mules, meant for pulling heavy loads, and an ancient wagon that probably wouldn’t go a mile down the road without significant repair.

Remarkably, Aunt Josie and Uncle John had done most of the running of the ranch themselves. They had two men helping out, but both had found work elsewhere after John’s passing, uncertain of payment in the future. Briar didn’t blame them. Della had made it clear that they both had large families who depended on them, and they couldn’t be without work and wages.

Briar wrung her hands but caught herself doing it and quickly stopped. “I don’t know that we have the means to hire anyone. Not yet.” She didn’t voice her fears about the calves that would be making their way into the world. Della figured it was due to start come May. That left six weeks at best. Briar had no notion of how she’d be ready by then. If she had no hands to help, how was she supposed to deliver all those calves? Even if Della and Hallie helped, she still couldn’t imagine making it through.

The barn was really just a collection of rough lumber with large cracks between the boards. It was by no means ramshackle, and it was sturdy, but she couldn’t imagine it was very warm for anyone in the cold months. The loft was currently empty, and she imagined getting through winter would involve buying feed to store up.

The two-story house with the porch along the front was made of the same rough lumber, already faded to grey by the elements. It was modest, but she had taken stock and noted that it was constructed far better than the barn and the other small sheds where the pigs and chickens were kept. While it was rough around the edges, her aunt and uncle had clearly taken pride in their home, but what about the repairs and work it was certain to need in the future?

“Let’s take a break.” Della urged Briar to walk beside her, back towards the house. “Greif takes time to shake,” she said, correctly interpreting Briar’s worry and sadness in her silence. “It’s not something that’s ever going to go away.” They fell into step beside each other. “You’ll find yourself changing before it does. Growing around that mass of sorrow that’s going to be inside of you, until it feels less. I suppose that’s the one good thing about keeping busy. I don’t believe in not facing a problem head on, though I know a lot of folks don’t have the luxury of doing it, or the fortitude to think that way. Farm work is a great way to exhaust yourself, so at least you can sleep at night without your mind spinning over and over all the matters you can do little about.”

“You must miss my aunt and uncle terribly as well.”

Della sighed softly, the sound tinged with sorrow. “Josie was Ma’s closet friend. We watched her and John grow this place from nothing. We couldn’t have asked for better neighbors. We were shocked over the accident, and we’re hurting mightily over having to lay them to rest long before their time should have come. I know Ma made a promise to Josie a long time ago that should something ever happen to them, she’d look after the children, as much as she was able. Josie knew they didn’t have any family close by, and that worried her.”

Briar didn’t want to dump more of her worries on Della, but she did feel she could talk to her. “I’m the most worried about Abel and Susie.”

Della made a sound in her throat, something between a wet cough and a groan of understanding. “It’s a tender age, to lose both your folks. Five years old is nothing but a baby still.”

“You said you were living with an aunt. Your mother’s sister.”

It was Della’s kind way of saying that Briar herself knew what it was like to lose her parents. “Yes. After my own parents passed, but I was old enough to remember them both. Keenly.” Briar studied the house with some dismay as they walked. If she was going to talk about her fears, she might as well discuss them all. “I thought my aunt’s house in Philadelphia was quite modest. I never realized just how much luxury we had. I can cook passably, and I’m not afraid of hard work. My only fears are that I won’t measure up when it comes to taking care of this place. I have a small amount of savings, and we’ll get by for a while, but if something should happen- the roof for example. I can’t fix that. Or- or butchering. My gosh, I know I just couldn’t do it. I can’t even imagine killing one of those chickens.”

Della slipped her hand into Briar’s. She would have been ashamed of her broken, dirt encrusted nails before, but now her only thought was one of relief. At least it didn’t hurt to use a shovel or pitchfork like it used to. Her blisters were mostly blisters on top of blisters, turning into callouses. They no longer bled.

“When I said that out here, we all pull together, I meant it. I know you’re used to doing for yourself, but out here, you can’t let pride get in the way of survival.”

Della led them around to the garden. “The twins will be a big help with the chores. Even the small things make a difference. Susie adores the chickens. Abel wants to be old enough to do everything.”

Briar had noticed exactly that. “It’s a little bit scary. The cattle and horses are so big. And those mules. Gosh, they’re ornery.”

“It’s because they have no names. Give an animal a name, and I swear it helps. John wasn’t big into naming something that had a job to do. They just need time to get used to a gentle touch. They’ll come out right with some practice.”

Aunt Hettie would sneer at Della’s endless optimism, but it was exactly what Briar needed. She needed to dig down deep and find determination that she didn’t know she had.

The twins had disappeared behind the house, but Hallie didn’t seem worried. She was bent over in the garden, flinging handfuls of weeds into a dented, rusty metal bucket that she kept nudging along.

Suddenly, Della’s nose crinkled and she dropped her voice, glancing at her ma in the garden from under lowered lashes. “You haven’t met Sheriff Decker yet. He rode by our farm this morning, when I was out choring. I tried to make it obvious I was too busy to say more than a hello, and then he made it plain he’d like to be of help. He offered to come by here, and well, I can’t stop him, it being a free country and all, and you do need the help. Just to let you know, he might be stopping in.”

Briar watched Della closely, confused at the change in topic and her tone. “Is he not a good sheriff?” She’d heard many tales of corrupt lawmen.

“Oh. No. He’s a great sheriff. It’s just plain that he’s looking for a wife.” Della kicked a clod of grass with the toe of her boot, stirring up a dust cloud. “He thinks he fancies me, and Ma likes to encourage the whole thing. We would make a terrible match.” She pulled a face, but then her head snapped up so fast she seemed dizzy for a second. “Oh my gosh that’s it! I know that it’s usually men putting out those advertisements for a bride, but you could put one in the paper for a husband.”

Briar’s jaw unhinged so far that it literally creaked when she tried to close her gaping mouth. “I couldn’t do that!”

She looked wildly around the yard and to the house, but the twins were nowhere in sight. Her first thought was for them and their safety at all times, and it was slightly alarming that she couldn’t see them. Hallie and Della didn’t seem bothered. In fact, if Della seemed anything, it was eager to get on with the scheme of getting Briar hitched.

“Many people find love where they least expect it, but love is also a fanciful word. A successful partnership would be much more appropriate. People have married for less. A man would help you run this place. I might as well state it plainly that he’d be a good source of labor when you need it most.”

Briar tried not to look as appalled as she felt. “But- the ranch. What if he turns out to be a terrible man? I have the twins to think about. I wouldn’t know a stranger like that from a dad-burned rock in the middle of nowhere.” She lowered her voice, ashamed of cussing. “If he turns out to be a bad man and I’m married to him, there’s nothing I can do. The ranch would be his.”

“That might not be true. Not with the Married Women’s Property Acts coming so far. Sure, some men might be looking for land and a good setup, and some might plain be scoundrels, but for every bad one that I’ve ever met, there are ten good men out there.”  Della paused. “If things get desperate, you could always consider it. Until then, we’ll do everything we can to try and find a few hands for this place who will work for the salary you set.”

Briar didn’t have high hopes for that before, and with every passing hour adding more and more worries to her long list- tasks to complete, expenses to take care of that she hadn’t counted on, purchases that would have to be made in short order- she wasn’t optimistic about being able to offer much of a salary at all. With calving season coming fast, things might grow dire quickly. Desperation was exactly the right word, but a husband?

From the first moment she’d arrived at the ranch, Briar made a promise to herself that she’d do whatever it took to safeguard the twins’ future. They’d lost so much already. She couldn’t bear it if she was the reason they lost their home. If she couldn’t make the ranch successful, where would they go? She was the only family they had left.

“Maybe,” she said, though her voice was little more than a whisper.

Della was going to go on, probably extolling all the positives of such an arrangement, when a high-pitched scream tore through the quiet afternoon.

Before anyone could even move, the twins rounded the side of the house. Susie’s much patched cotton dress whipped around her ankles and her dark brown hair streaked out behind her. Abel outpaced her but slowed to grasp her hand and tug her along.

It was obvious within a matter of seconds what had frightened the twins.

Or what they’d frightened up.

A whole string of angry hornets trailed after them, buzzing madly in the air. It would likely be a whole swarm in short order.

Della and Hallie reacted quickly. Hallie leapt out of the garden, raced to the twins, and scooped up Susie. Abel kept pace with Hallie as she ran with the frightened little girl in her arms. Della sprinted towards the back door of the house. Briar waited for all four of them to pass her before she raced after them. Della snapped the door open and as soon as they all rushed through, she slammed it shut.

Briar immediately fell to her knees in front of Abel, checking him over for stings while Hallie looked over Susie.

“They didn’t get me,” he announced proudly. “Not one bit.”

“You shouldn’t have thrown the rocks at the nest,” Susie whimpered, her tiny voice breaking and her lip trembling now that they were safe and emotion had time to grip her.

“Where is the nest?” Della asked, smoothing Susie’s hair away from her flushed face.

“The side of the porch out front. I told Abel to leave it and that we should tell you.”

“They’re going to be right mean about it all for hours, likely,” Hallie interjected, hands on her hips. She took the children’s hands and walked them down the short hall into the kitchen. It was as humble as the rest of the house, but it did have a water pump and the well produced cool, refreshing water. Hallie cranked it a few times, handing each child a tin cup full.

“Throwing stones at a hornet’s nest isn’t a great idea, but luckily, no harm was done. We might be trapped in here for a spell, but I was planning on baking some cornbread this afternoon and working on some letters with you both anyhow. Your Aunt Briar was going to do some mending, and Della would probably be glad to get off her feet and learn some of the finer points of sewing. I was never much for it. My own ma always called me hopeless, but I think I’m a shade above that.” She winked at the twins, and they both gave her shy smiles.

Without being asked, they sat down at the crude wood table and pulled out two of the roughest chairs, leaving the better ones for Briar and Della.

Briar saw the twins share a sneaky look. A sly little grin that spoke to how much trouble they’d likely been able to stir up before. She was relieved to see them acting like mischievous children, if only for a few moments. The hornets hadn’t stung them, and no real harm had been done.

“Yes ma’am,” Abel said, glancing up at Hallie. “We’re happy to help.”

“And we’ll work hard on our letters,” Susie added.

Hallie hummed around the kitchen happily, warming the small room with the rough floorboards, cast iron stove, and tattered curtains with just her presence.

Briar retrieved her sewing basket and sat beside Della at the table to work on the mending first.

Again, she wondered what she ever would have done without these two incredible women to help her.

An image of herself placing an advert flitted through her mind, and to her dismay, she wasn’t able to push it away or disregard it as quickly as she had before. Ultimately, she’d do whatever it took, she just hoped fervently that it never came down to that.