Barbara Phinney - Rancher To The Rescue

Clare blinked at him. “Of course. But what about here?” As if to add to the question, the door opened and in walked Joe Pooley, the young clerk Noah had hired just before he’d taken the chance with her last fall. They both nodded stiffly to him.

Noah glanced around the office. “We should maintain a certain formality here, I think. I know some people keep that formality even at home, but do you think that’s necessary?”

“No, but I hadn’t thought I would ever marry, either.”

Quirking a brow, he asked with a hint of surprise, “You never harbored those girlish dreams of finding true love?”

She sniffed. “I did when I was much younger, yes, but college taught me otherwise. My mentor, Miss Worth, often said it did women the world over a disservice simply to hand over our freedom to our husbands, and I witnessed it firsthand with several of my friends. They were the perfect blushing brides, but then I saw them a few months later, asking their husbands for advice, for money, or to be taken places. Those women had reveled in their freedom at college. We answered to no man. My married friends lost all of that elemental freedom.”

“Surely they realized that beforehand. I mean, if you wish to call marriage a loss of basic freedom.”

“Most realized it was gone. And they missed it. They aren’t even allowed to get a job anymore, something my mentor thought was important. That’s what chasing true love has done for them. All I wanted was to decide my own life.”

She stopped it there, expecting amusement at the notion, or a blunt contradiction. Instead, Noah merely stared at her. Gone from his blue eyes was the wariness, now replaced by something she couldn’t explain. Was it sympathy? She hated that she couldn’t identify it. “I was going to own my own business someday, and not just some small enterprise like a sewing room or laundry service or an extension of my husband’s business like the general store here. My career was going to be big, like owning a warehouse that brought goods from overseas, or a string of haberdasheries up and down the Rockies with my name on each of the marquees.”

Noah looked perplexed. “Then why come back to Proud Bend and take a minor job here?”

“Mother needed my help.” She felt a pang of hurt deep inside. “There were days she could barely get out of bed. I knew I needed to learn administration beyond what I took in college, and there aren’t too many places where I could learn it while still helping to care for my mother. I came home on faith that I would find something that could start me on a career path. My father got me this job.”

“Your training got you your job. Your father just arranged for it,” Noah reminded her. “He said something about putting your education to good use.” After a short pause, when Clare said nothing, he added with a shrug, “Allow me to sort out what’s needed for our, um, wedding. Is there a preferred date? Pastor Wyseman will want a few days to publish bans. He is a bit old-fashioned that way.”

Noah’s crisp tone sounded like he was arranging for a tailoring session, or a bank appointment, Clare thought with a sinking heart. His self-sacrificing proposal was a noble gesture, but she felt, well, begrudging. She hated that his stellar behavior made her feel petty and ungracious.

She cleared her throat. “Anytime is fine. It’s just a business arrangement, anyway.” Then, head held high, she strode from the office.

* * *

Noah watched her leave. He’d had a way out of the situation that had been similar to the one that had forced his hand back home. But what had he done? He’d offered the proposal again. He was truly a fool. Clare Walsh had told him, not in so many words, that her ideals from college were so important to her that only the direst of circumstances would cause her to deviate from them.

Yes, her circumstances were indeed that. As a result, their marriage would only be a business arrangement. She’d said that last part quite bluntly. It was going to be a frosty life together.

Heat burned up his neck and into his cheeks. His noble act now slapped him in the face. Remember what you told your father a few years ago? You’re hypocritical, Livingstone. You’d said you would only marry for love.

His parents and Elizabeth’s parents had wanted a marriage of both families and fortunes. It was strictly for their benefit, with Noah’s father thinking he was getting the monetary advantage.

But here, Clare was at risk of losing everything she held dear. Even her freedom, which now must be sacrificed in order to save other things, like family unity and her home.

Her house. It would soon be hers, if her parents really were lost at sea. Clare had wanted to own her own business, and probably her own home. She was getting one of those dreams, but might soon have to rent it out just to pay its mortgage.

At that thought, Noah walked out of his office. He stopped in front of Clare’s desk. Beyond, Pooley was helping a young couple at the counter, leaving him a modicum of privacy.

Clare was in the midst of copying the last of the land deed ledgers. Last year, when Noah had hired her, it was to fill the temporary position of copier, transcribing thick ledgers that had been damaged when the roof had leaked. Now that she was full-time, she continued that work at her desk, all the while helping at the front counter if the need arose, which it rarely did. Noah watched her for a moment as she carefully transcribed a line, taking pains to be neat and accurate.

She looked up, a question on her face. Those big, soft, sad eyes made her complexion seem paler today. Her pert little nose was slightly red. Today, she’d neglected to apply the powder most women preferred. A telltale sign that she was out of sorts.

Noah scrubbed a hand across his jaw, knowing he should do more for her. She was grieving and yet kept insisting on going about her regular business as if nothing was amiss. He cleared his throat. “You returned to work because you felt you needed the money. You have bills to pay and a mortgage to sort out.”

“Yes.”

“Since we’re engaged, that’s not the case anymore, so you don’t need to be here.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he hurried on, “You can be at home taking care of other things. As soon as I get the necessary paperwork in order and at Pastor Wyseman’s convenience, we can get married. It could take a few weeks, though, so keep that in mind when you meet with the bank.”

He watched her throat bob slowly, hating how he sounded as though they were discussing a small task here at work. “Here’s a thought to present to the bank. Why don’t you rent out your house? Many families who want to move West will often want temporary lodging while they’re building a home for themselves. If you rent yours, it can pay your mortgage. There may be enough left over for other expenses like taxes.”

Clare blinked those long black lashes at him. Did she not understand him? Had he not made himself clear enough?

He explained further, “However, you’ll first need to gain some legal control over your parents’ estate. You won’t be allowed to rent out the house until you have care and control of it. Did your parents arrange for that?”

Those soft lips pursed and she shook her head. “Not that I’m aware,” she finally said. Her expression might give the impression of innocence more often than not, but today, it showed only hurt. Then, abruptly, her jaw tightened and she set down her pen. Her hands dropped to her lap and she shut her eyes.

She was angry. Noah folded his arms. “What arrangements did your parents make? Surely they knew that crossing the Atlantic wasn’t without risk?”

She shrugged, but from the color rising in her cheeks, he knew the action was anything but casual.