Kate Bridges - Rancher Wants a Wife

The one thing the detective couldn’t clarify for Jack was when, exactly, she and Troy had ended their relationship. No one the detective had interviewed had firsthand knowledge of any fiancé, only rumors that she’d been engaged years earlier. So the thing Jack was most curious about was the thing still left up in the air.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but when did you call off your engagement?”

She paused. “Five years ago.”

“Five?” He flicked the reins and the mare turned the corner, past the two banks in town. A handful of people wove in and out of the bakery, and farther along, the smoke shop where a man could buy a good cigar. A stagecoach creaked by in the other direction and Jack tipped his hat in greeting to the driver. “I’ve been gone five years. So when, precisely, did you part company?”

Color crept into her cheeks. “The night you left.”

Jack tried to piece together the timeline. It meant after his argument with Cassandra, Troy must’ve come to her, as well.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her arms stiffened at her sides. “You didn’t leave a forwarding address. I didn’t even know what country you were living in.”

“Ah, hell.” Another wave of guilt washed over him.

If she had known where he was living, would she have reached out for help? Something told him the answer would still have been no.

He directed the horse and buggy around the town square and the large granite sundial that sat in the center. Spaniards had built the structure more than a century ago, and it was how the town got its name.

Cassandra craned her neck to see it, intrigued. “Can you truly read the time from it?”

“Of course. I’ll show you how next time, when we’re on foot.”

“Jack, now that we’re face-to-face...and seeing that the date is planned for tomorrow, I’m wondering about a few things.” She swung her knees slightly in his direction.

Questions? But there was much more he wanted to ask her about Troy. Such as why they’d severed their plans for marriage, and who had been the one to walk away. Jack doubted it had been her, considering how much she’d defended Troy on that night.

Jack relented to her curiosity. “By all means, ask away.”

He pulled in beside the Valley Hotel, a board and batten, two-story building with a large veranda encircling the main floor. He dropped the reins and looked at Cassandra. Her face was in shade, but a sharp shadow line from the hot sun sliced across her lap.

She struggled to find the right words. “There were at least two dozen people at the stage depot when you picked me up. You spoke to several of them, and we passed another half dozen on the way here. Yet you haven’t introduced me to one person.” The crest of her cheek flickered. “Didn’t you tell anyone about me?”

He muttered under his breath, castigating himself. He’d handled her arrival all wrong.

“I’m glad you’re here, Cassandra.” He exhaled, wishing he’d thought things through in a different way. “The fact is I did tell some folks you were coming. Not the whole world, though. I’m not sure why I kept it to myself. It certainly wasn’t to make you feel slighted. Maybe it was because I wasn’t sure you’d be on that stagecoach.”

“You thought I might not show up?”

“That’s right.”

She blinked. “I’m here.”

He slid down from the buggy, strolled around to her side and lifted her by the waist with all the careful enthusiasm he used to have around her in Chicago, when they were younger and heading out for an evening with a group of friends.

It must’ve taken her by surprise. The wind caught her skirts and she yelped in laughter, sailing over the boardwalk. When he planted her feet square in front of the Valley Hotel, beneath a palm tree, he noticed they were being watched from two doors down.

Four young women were coming out of a hat shop, smiling and chattering, all holding several packages. One of the taller ones, Elise Beacon, peered over at him and Cassandra and, apparently startled by the sight, dropped one of her purchases.

Not now, thought Jack.

One of Elise’s friends fumbled to retrieve the package for her, while the others whispered, and nudged her to continue walking.

Jack removed his hat in greeting. “Ladies.” Then he turned to Cassandra, who’d briefly glanced in their direction, and held out his elbow. “Shall we go inside?”

Chapter Three

Cassandra wondered who the women were who had stared at her and Jack. There was a taller one with brunette hair fastened up beneath a stylish hat, whose eyes had met hers. The woman had whispered something to a friend, and they’d both seemed to be stifling amusement.

Did they find something humorous about Cassandra? Surely they wouldn’t be laughing at her scar.

She decided she was being foolish. They obviously knew Jack, and were giving him female attention—which seemed to be a common pastime in Sundial. And why not? He was a charming, hardworking bachelor. But soon-to-be-married, she hoped they realized.

Jack held out his arm and she took it. Soon she was registering at the front desk, her bags were being whisked upstairs and she was exchanging pleasantries with the young man behind the counter. If he noticed her cheek, he didn’t let on that anything was amiss.

“Take care of her,” said Jack. “We’re getting married tomorrow.”

“Are you now, Dr. McColton? Congratulations to you both.” The boyish clerk swung the registry back toward himself, read her name and addressed her. “Miss Hamilton, welcome to the Valley Hotel. Will you be needing any amenities shortly? Something from the dining hall, or perhaps a bathtub filled?”

Jack interjected, “Cassandra, I’m hoping you’ll come with me to the ranch for dinner. Won’t you?” When he turned his handsome face toward her, her qualms subsided about the women she’d seen outside. There was no need to get stirred up about what might or might not happen in this town now that she’d arrived. She was here, and determined to make the best of it.

“I’d love to see it. But I do need time to get back this evening, soak in a hot tub and prepare for tomorrow.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Jack’s mouth. Heat flashed in his penetrating eyes, and she got the distinct impression he was imagining her in that tub.

She tried to squelch the flutter she felt, wondering what the marriage night would be like, and nervously brushed back strands of wispy hair. “Please give me ten minutes to freshen up. I’ll be right down.”

“Take twenty,” he said, strolling through the large, cool foyer.

The desk clerk tapped a bell on the counter. A porter appeared. Carrying her satchel, Cassandra marched up the wide wooden staircase behind him. The hotel wasn’t as grand as some in Chicago, but its Californian flavor—with rustic timber, a stone fireplace in the front entry and plenty of windows—was appealing.

She knew there’d be no time for a honeymoon. Jack had explained it in his letters. She wouldn’t be disappointed, she told herself. He enjoyed working hard in his profession, and made no excuses for it. She preferred that over someone sitting idle.

Besides, what other man who’d written to her asking for her hand in marriage had promised her an easy life? Not one.

The porter unlocked a door, handed her the key, set her large suitcase inside and politely left. Cassandra walked into the airy room. The furnishings were sparse, but a large window overlooked the street below. She pulled aside the curtain and noted again the buildings she would likely visit soon in her quest to become a detective—the sheriff’s office, land registry, courthouse, the two banks on the corner. She peeked to see if that brunette woman was still at the hat shop, but saw no sign of her.