B.J. Daniels - Wedding at Cardwell Ranch

“Nick said you don’t like the dresses he buys you,” Mildred had said disapprovingly one day when she’d stopped by the cabin and asked Allie why she wasn’t wearing the new dress. “There is nothing wrong with looking nice for your husband.”

“The dresses he buys me are just more revealing than I feel comfortable with.”

Her mother-in-law had mugged a face. “You’d better loosen up and give my son what he wants or he’ll find someone who will.”

Now as she reached for the dress on the top of the pile, she told herself she would throw them out, Mother Taylor be damned.

But the moment she touched the dress, she let out a cry of surprise and panic. The fabric had jagged cuts down the front. She stared in horror as she saw other deep, angry-looking slices in the fabric. Who had done this?

Her heart in her throat, she picked up another of the dresses Nick had made her wear. Her sewing scissors clattered to the bedroom floor. She stared down at the scissors in horror, then at the pile of destroyed clothing. All of the dresses Nick had bought her had been ruined.

Allie shook her head as she dropped the dress in her hand and took a step back from the bed. Banging into the closed closet doors, she fought to breathe, her heart hammering in her chest. Who did this? Who would do this? She remembered her brother-in-law calling from out in the hall earlier, asking what was taking her so long before they’d gone to dinner. But that was because she’d taken a shower to get the smell of her own fear off her. It wasn’t because she was in here cutting up the clothes her dead husband had made her wear.

Tears welled in her eyes, making the room blur. She shoved that bitter thought away and wiped at her tears. She wouldn’t have done this. She couldn’t have.

Suddenly, she turned and stared at the closed closet door with mounting fear. Slowly, she reached for the knob, her hand trembling. As the closet door came open, she froze. Her eyes widened in new alarm.

A half dozen new outfits hung in the otherwise nearly empty closet, the price tags still on them. As if sleepwalking, Allie reached for one of the tags and stared in shock at the price. Hurriedly, she checked the others. She couldn’t afford any of them. So where had they come from?

Not only that, the clothes were what she would call “classic,” the type of clothes she’d worn when she’d met Nick. The kind of clothes she’d pleaded with him to let her wear.

“I want other men to look at you and wish they were me,” Nick had said, getting angry.

But when she and Nick went out and she wore the clothes and other men did look, Nick had blamed her.

“You must have given him the eye,” Nick would say as they argued on the way home. “Probably flipped your hair like an invitation. Who knows what you do while I’m at work all day.”

“I take care of your daughter and your house.”

Nick hadn’t let her work after they’d gotten married, even though he knew how much she loved her wedding planning business. “Women who work get too uppity. They think they don’t need a man. No wife of mine is going to work.”

Allie had only the clothes he bought her. She’d purchased little since his death because the money had been so tight. Nick had wanted to know about every cent she’d spent, so she hadn’t been able to save any money, either. Nick paid the bills and gave her a grocery allowance. He said he’d buy her whatever she needed.

Now she stared at the beautiful clothes hanging in her closet. Beautiful blouses and tops. Amazing skirts and pants and dresses. Clothes Nick would have taken out in the yard and burned. But Nick was gone.

Or was he? He still hadn’t been declared legally dead. That thought scared her more than she wanted to admit. What if he suddenly turned up at her door one night?

Was that what was making her crazy? Maybe she had done this. She had yearned for clothing like this and hated the clothes Nick had bought her, so had she subconsciously...

Allie stumbled away from the closet, bumped into the corner of the bed and sat down hard on the floor next to it. Her hand shook as she covered her mouth to keep from screaming. Had she shoplifted these clothes? She couldn’t have purchased them. Just as she couldn’t have cut up the dresses and not remembered. There had to be another explanation. Someone was playing a horrible trick on her.

But even as she pondered it, more rational thoughts came on its heels. Did she really believe that someone had come into the cabin and done this? Who in their right mind would believe that?

Pushing herself up, she crawled over to where she’d dropped her purse as she tried to remember even the last time she’d written a check. Her checkbook wasn’t in her purse. She frowned and realized she must have left it in the desk when she’d paid bills.

Getting up she walked on wobbly legs to the desk in the corner, opened the drawer and took out her checkbook. Her fingers shook with such a tremor that she could barely read what was written in it.

But there it was. A check for more than eight hundred dollars! The handwriting was scrawled, but she knew it had to be hers. She saw the date of the check. Yesterday?

She had dropped Nat off for a playdate and then gone into Bozeman... Could she account for the entire afternoon? Her heart pounded as she tried to remember everything she’d done and when she might have bought these clothes. She’d been wandering around in a daze since Nick’s death. She couldn’t account for every minute of yesterday, but what did that matter? The proof was staring her in the face.

Allie shoved the checkbook into the drawer and tried to pull herself together. She had to think about her daughter.

“You’re fine,” she whispered to herself. “Once you get back to work...” She couldn’t have been more thankful that she had the Cardwell Ranch wedding. More than the money, she needed to do what she loved—planning weddings—and get her mind off everything else.

Once she was out of this house she’d shared with Nick... Yes, then she would be fine. She wouldn’t be so...forgetful. What woman wouldn’t feel she was losing her mind, considering what she’d been going through?

Chapter Two

“Who’s that singing?” five-year-old Ford Cardwell asked as he and his father followed the sound.

Jackson Cardwell had parked the rental SUV down by his cousin Dana’s ranch house when they’d arrived, but finding no one at home, they’d headed up the hill toward the barn and the van parked in front of it.

“I have no idea, son,” Jackson said, but couldn’t help smiling. The voice was young and sweet, the song beautiful. “It sounds like an angel.”

“It is an angel,” Ford cried and pointed past the barn to the corrals.

The girl was about his son’s age, but while Ford had taken after the Cardwell side of the family with his dark hair and eyes, this child had pale blond hair and huge green eyes.

When she saw them, she smiled, exposing two deep dimples. Both children were adorable, but this little girl was hands down more angelic-looking and—Jackson would bet—acting than Ford.

She wore cowboy boots with a pale green-and-white-polka-dotted, one-piece, short jumpsuit that brought out the emerald-green of her eyes. Jackson saw that the girl was singing to several horses that had come up to the edge of the corral fence.

The girl finished the last of the lyrics before she seemed to notice them and came running over. “If you’re looking for my mother, she’s in the barn working.”

Next to him, Jackson saw that his son had apparently been struck dumb.

“I’m Nat,” the girl announced. “My name is really Natalie, though.” She shifted her gaze to the mute Ford. “Everyone calls me Nat, so you can if you want to.”