A Mail Order Bride to Heal his Heart

Chapter 1

The voice of the train whistle blew long and loud overhead, drowning out the sound of Alexandra Clarke’s first steps onto the platform. Clear of the compartment door, she paused to stretch her tired body and breathe in the fresh outside air. The crowd had jostled around her for the first few steps, but now her fellow passengers all went their separate ways.

How surreal, to be on her own again after three and a half days in constant company. Yet, Alexandra couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Her nervous heart thrummed with excitement in her chest.

She had been awaiting this moment ever since the first letter from Caleb Turner arrived in her post, all the way back in Virginia. For weeks, he was a sort of phantom in her mind, and he was about to be made real. Alexandra stood on the tips of her toes, holding her skirts, surveying the shifting sea of faces for one that might belong to him. 

A brief surge of anxiety dimmed her joyous expectation. The worst possible scenarios flashed through her mind: abandoned, forgotten, lingering in vain on the empty platform without the man who was to be her husband. She clenched her hands tightly to keep them from shaking, determined to put all her misgivings in the past.

And then she saw him, or at least a man who could be him. He stood quietly off to the side at the very end of the platform, where a set of wooden stairs descended to the flat, dusty Montana scrub. His hands were deep in his pockets, downcast eyes shaded by the wide brim of a soft brown hat.

Alexandra’s smile returned in earnest, silencing her fears. She grabbed hold of her two trunks and began to trundle them in his direction, never taking her gaze off his figure in case he disappeared. The man cleared his throat, shifted his weight, pushed his hands even further into the depths of those pockets, all without looking up.

Ten feet away, she decided to throw caution to the wind.

“Caleb?” she called. “Caleb Turner?”

Finally, he glanced her way, and she got her first glimpse of the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen, their amber center ringed by brilliant, sapphire blue. 

He straightened up to his full height and strode toward her, spurs jangling at his heels. “That’s me,” he said. “Caleb Turner. I guess that makes you Miss Alexandra Clarke.” His voice was soft and low; it gave her a little bit of the shivers, in a nice way. 

“Yes,” Alexandra replied, trying her best to tone down the rush of exhilaration coursing through her veins. This was it—the adventure she longed for was set to begin at last! “It’s so lovely to meet you.” 

“The pleasure is mine.” Caleb gave her half of a shy grin as he took her luggage. “I’d like to thank you for coming all this way. Let me help you with those.”

“Thank you.” She gave them over and let him lead her down the steps, away from the platform to a copse of trees. His wagon was parked in the slim shade beneath their branches, and after he helped her into the seat, he placed her trunks carefully into the back, one by one.

Struggling to resist the urge to look at him, Alexandra let her restless eyes wander across the sun-soaked panorama surrounding the train station.

The great blue bowl of the Montana sky beamed down on her, endless as far as she could see. It was marred only by the column of black smoke drifting up from the locomotive as it pulled away from the platform.

Caleb pulled himself up behind the reins. He glanced sidelong at her, that same half smile playing on his lips.

“Last chance,” he said, his tone gently teasing.

Alexandra tucked a stray lock of hair demurely behind her ear. “It’s already too late for that,” she answered.

He chuckled and spurred the horses forward. Behind them, the steam engine that had carried her across the plains chugged off into the distance.

The first part of the ride was quiet, punctuated only by the soft creaking of the wagon wheels and the rhythmic beat of horse hooves.

 Alexandra sat straight with her hands in her lap. Occasionally, she glanced at Caleb’s silhouette in front of her and tried to think of something to say.

But it was he who broke the silence. “You had a good trip out, I hope.” The words left his mouth in a gentle drawl, and he turned his face just enough to look at her out of the corner of his eye. “The railroad sure is something.”

“Yes, it is,” Alexandra agreed. “It’s hard to believe I was at—in Virginia two days ago.” She stopped herself short from mentioning her father’s house, the old ramshackle place in need of constant repairs.

 Nor did she mention the disdain with which her decision to flee had been met, or how he’d laughed and demanded to know who would have her.

Caleb nodded. “Never been there myself. I’ve been told it’s pretty as a picture.” He paused. “Must be, if that’s where you’re from.”

Alexandra blushed. The rush of blood to her cheeks washed away the dregs of her negative thoughts, and she felt herself holding back a little smile. Sitting in the back of the wagon, watching him as he drove, all her worries seemed so silly.

There was no way on earth that the future before her could be any worse than the one she left behind. “You’re very sweet,” she told him shyly. “If I may say so.”

Caleb shrugged. “Well…” He took a few moments to choose his words. “You came out here to see about being my wife. I think niceness is the least I can do in return.”

He had such a soothing manner of speech. Alexandra thought she could listen to him talk all day, if only he was more inclined to do so. As it stood, Caleb Turner used his words in tight economy, preferring the lull of companionable silence. Alexandra, bright and gregarious, a naturally social person, had to fight the urge to fill that space with words of her own.

It was a new life, with new rules. And she was ready to embrace a whole new way of being.

Still, despite her determination, the lack of conversation was tough to stand. She rode it out for as long as she was able, until finally her most pressing question bubbled to the surface. “How far do we have to go?”

Caleb made a perfunctory gesture up the road, which was more of a rutted dirt track than anything. “We’ll hit Maybelle in half a mile. The ranch is two miles out from there.” He tilted his hat down against the encroaching sun. “You must be tired from traveling.”

“Oh, I’m all right.” A flare of mild embarrassment tightened her chest. She looked down into her lap. “I was just curious, is all.” She grimaced. Maybe it was better not to talk, at least unless she was certain she could manage not to make a fool of herself.

Again, he was quiet for some time. Then he said suddenly, “I hope you’ll like it here.” He gave a slight, wry laugh. “I’d hate to have lured you out here just to land you in misery.”

Alexandra lifted her eyes, scrutinizing the man’s profile. He had his gaze fixed forward on the road now, but she saw something different, a hint of troubled waters, in his expression. She hesitated, unsure of how to respond.

“I think it will be just fine,” was what she settled on. As an afterthought, she added, “I ought to be thanking you for being there to retrieve me. It was awfully kind of you.” He had said in his letters that he was a rancher, and just now, he mentioned a ranch. She’d been envisioning him a busy man.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I pride myself on decency,” was all he said.

Tentatively, Alexandra decided that she liked him even though she hardly yet knew him. There were still so many unknowns, things she’d need to confront in the approaching days. But in that first hour or so, bumping along the way into Maybelle, Montana, her heart was something other than heavy.

“There she is,” Caleb drawled, as the wagon passed the bounds of a dusty but rather bustling settlement. “Beautiful Maybelle.” His voice was tinged with equal parts irony and affection. “You’ll get to know her real well.”

Alexandra sat up straighter to get a better look around. The way the buildings sort of scattered across the plain was cluttered but charming. She had almost expected to see a ghost town, or a camp filled with nothing but hardscrabble cowboys, three men to every woman.

Maybelle, however, was a real little town, and it seemed to be on the verge of booming. Some of the townsfolk stopped to watch Caleb’s wagon go by. Hats were tipped, colorful kerchiefs waved in the warm wind. She wondered idly if they all knew him, or if they were just friendly by nature.

Caleb didn’t stop the wagon, though he acknowledged the salutations. Alexandra noticed that he appeared intent on passing through as quickly as possible. He flicked the reins across the horses’ backs, urging them on. She swiveled in her seat and watched downtown Maybelle recede into the distance.

“Folks in Maybelle are nice,” Caleb told her, once they were clear of the town center. “Most of ‘em.”

He elected not to elaborate, and she chose not to push the subject. The landscape rolling by returned to flat fields, green with the bounty of spring. Mountains rose like blue phantoms in the far, far background.  

But the ethereal beauty of the Montana countryside couldn’t eliminate the subtle foreboding of Caleb’s last few words. He spoke little else for the rest of the two miles beyond Maybelle. Alexandra tried her best to soak in the scenery and put everything else out of her mind.

She was already well beyond the point of no return—and even if she wasn’t, she knew there was no going back. From here on out, she’d have plenty of time to learn how to handle whatever came flying her way. And Alexandra Clarke was fiercely bound to succeed, no matter what.

Chapter 2

The day had started early for him, as they all did on the ranch, but this one was special. Caleb’s stomach twisted itself into knots as he walked out into the pre-dawn darkness. Swaths of stars faded against the gradually lightening sky.

On this day in particular, Caleb was thankful for early chores. They gave him something with which to occupy his mind, busy work to quiet the doubts that lurked in the furthest corners. Up in the table at his bedside, he had a stash of letters from a woman named Alexandra Clarke. She had answered his ad, and she was arriving in a few hours’ time. 

He didn’t really know what to do. If he was being completely honest with himself, he’d considered the advertisement a long-shot, and he still wasn’t all that confident in any arrangement that might result. Alexandra’s hadn’t been the only response, but it had been the only one to really capture his interest.

She was well-spoken; she seemed sweet as pie. Her handwriting swept and curled elegantly across the pages of her letters. He liked to think she matched her penmanship in some way, although the notion of it made him wonder what she saw in a rancher like him.

In his mind’s eye, she was lovely and elegant, too much so to be running off to the rough-and-tumble country. He’d considered the possibility that she wasn’t real after all, but then what would she have to gain besides the fare for her trip? And the letters kept coming for a week, two weeks.

In the end, Caleb decided to send for her. He’d convinced himself to feel all right about it right up until the letter was safely in the postmaster’s hands—after that, he felt mostly a little bit sick. The enormity of the risk he was taking wasn’t lost on him. Caleb Turner knew better than many men all the ways a relationship could sour.

Even when he had known the girl for nearly half his life. Even when he was all set to marry her. But all that rose-tinted sweetness had gone to the dogs, and here he was three years later, about to retrieve a would-be new bride.

The hours before his scheduled departure for the train station outside of Maybelle crawled by. Caleb kept an eye on his watch, its heavy ticking like a heartbeat in his palm. He milked the cows, swept the barn, and finally, he harnessed up the horses to the wagon.

At eight-thirty, he stepped up into the driver’s bench behind the team and headed out to the long lane down to the main road. A few of the ranch hands saw him go by, tipped their hats. They stopped short of wishing him luck; they knew it was a touchy subject.

Caleb drove slowly once he reached the empty road. The sky was full of light now, reflecting blue off feathery white clouds. Dewdrops clung to the grass. He was going to be a full ninety minutes early for the train’s late-morning arrival, and yet Caleb insisted on buying time.

Two miles to Maybelle. As soon as the outlines of buildings appeared at the edge of his vision, he picked up speed. Town was the one place he didn’t care to be caught, especially not right then. He kept his eyes wide open for any signs of trouble, but his wagon rolled through undeterred.

That was a good sign, maybe a good omen. He made himself whistle through the last stretch of road leading up to the station. His was the only wagon in sight, and despite the fact that no one was around to see him there by himself, Caleb felt slightly self-conscious. He eased it on over to a sparse little thicket, brought the horses to a halt.

Then he settled in to wait. Affecting an air of nonchalance, Caleb pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes. He leaned far back in the driver’s seat, folding his arms across his chest, propping up his boots. The horses arched their graceful necks down to graze the short-cropped groundcover.

To any observing party, the man in the wagon looked for all the world like a cowboy having an early snooze in the shade. On the inside, Caleb Turner was wide awake; he couldn’t have slept if he wanted to. A thousand thoughts rushed through his brain. He had to force himself not to check his watch.

The first train that came into the station wasn’t hers—it was too early. Still, Caleb’s heart jumped when he saw the outline of the smokestack emerging against the sky, trailing a thick stream of smoke. All the noise was enough to drown everything out, including the constant, anxious voice in his head.

He was almost sad to see it go. The serenity that followed left him too much to his own devices. Abandoning the façade of casual rest, Caleb climbed down and pretended to tend to the horses instead, adjusting the harness, fiddling with reins and bridles. They looked at him, unimpressed and vaguely annoyed by his attention.

After a while, he gave up on that too and just paced tracks in the grass. Sunbeams warmed the crown of his head beneath his hat. He heard birds singing nearby. Other wagons began to rumble past him, lining up neatly in the vast space surrounding the station. Not many, but more than a few.

It looked like Alexandra would be in decent company. Part of Caleb was thankful to be a little less conspicuous. Glancing around, he wondered if any of these other men were in the same position as he was.

Then the next train was coming up the tracks, a lumbering iron behemoth belching smoke. Caleb’s whole body tensed for a moment. He took a deep breath. His feet moved on their own, carrying him up onto the end of the platform.

The crowd that poured from the train was made of all types: men, women, children. Many of them had exhaustion writ large on their faces even as they smiled at the sight of friends and loved ones. Caleb tucked his head down, slid his hands into his pockets. The realization hit him that he had no idea what she looked like.

The exodus from the belly of the train felt like it went on forever. Caleb scarcely dared to glance up from under the brim of his hat; each time, he was met with yet more unfamiliar faces. The platform became briefly crowded, and he had to shift deep into the corner. He hoped she would somehow catch sight of him.

By the time the passengers began to thin out a few minutes later, he was still standing alone. Traces of paranoia started to set in. He swept his eyes around the area, training them on each of the open train doors. Small clusters remained on the platform, cautious and slow-moving.

“Caleb? Caleb Turner?”

He snapped to attention. A woman was calling his name. When he identified her at last, the very first thing he noticed was her remarkable beauty. It seemed absurd that he had taken so long to pick out a face like hers. She was walking to him, pulling a pair of trunks behind her.

He straightened up, dusted himself off. The much-anticipated moment had arrived—it was now or never. Caleb smiled as he closed the distance between them.

“That’s me. Caleb Turner. I guess that makes you Miss Alexandra Clarke.”

Alexandra’s trunks were small and light, startlingly so. He wanted to ask her how she’d managed to pack her whole life into them, but something told him that might be a mistake. Who knew what had driven such a pretty woman to answer an advertisement for marriage. She hardly seemed like the type who’d need to resort to those tactics to find a husband.

The whole thing struck Caleb as rather suspiciously lucky. He had half a mind to ask her if she was putting him on, if she maybe had a secret love already in Montana, for whom she was planning to leave him.

 Instead, he loaded her into the wagon and made as much small talk as he could muster on the way toward the ranch.

“I hope you’ll like it here,” he ended up telling her. “I’d hate to have lured you out here just to land you in misery.”

Alexandra replied with utmost politeness that she thought it would be just fine. Caleb decided right then, in that moment, that there was a good chance he did not deserve her. He knew he was not the most engaging host, that the lulls in their talking had been protracted and deep.

She had already demonstrated a willingness to compromise that he’d never seen before. It filled him with tentative hope and the compulsion to try and make things work. For her sake, if nothing else. It was, as he had told her a few minutes earlier, the very least he could do.

Like before, he sort of sped through Maybelle, keeping vigil for troublemakers. In a perfect world, Alexandra wouldn’t have noticed the change in pace, but of course she did. And of course, she continued to be an angel by not asking about it. His attempt to put her mind at ease did not go so well; he sensed it. They both shut right up after that. 

But once he was back in the home stretch, driving leisurely through the countryside, Caleb relaxed. Picking her up hadn’t been so hard after all, and she was a thousand times lovelier than he had dared to hope. She kept cutting glances over his way, and tucking a loose strand of her thick dark hair behind her ear.

It soothed him a bit to know that she was nervous too.

The signpost for the ranch came up on the left. He slowed the horses into the turn. “Here we are,” he said out loud. “Home sweet home.”

Alexandra leaned forward, placing her hands on the back of the driver’s bench. He caught a glimpse of her bright, enthusiastic smile out of the corner of his eye, and it kind of made him smile, too. Her energy was warm and infectious.

“What an incredible land this is,” she remarked. “No wonder so many are moving out this way.” She craned her neck back to take a look at the wide expanse of sky arcing high above. “It doesn’t quite look like this in Virginia.”

Caleb agreed. “I’ve found there aren’t a whole lot of places like this one.” He glanced at her as the path wound around one last gentle bend.

Alexandra gasped delightedly. Caleb had always loved the way the ranch house stood out dramatically against the low horizon, like a modern castle rising into the sky. He was gratified to see its effect worked even better on her. She stared in awe, her eyes huge green pools of wonder.

Caleb said, “Welcome to the ranch, Miss Clarke.” 

Chapter 3

Alexandra couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. The ranch, as Caleb so nonchalantly called it, rambled on apparently forever, across acres and acres of well-groomed emerald pastures. A huge red barn sat in its own courtyard to the left of the house, its doors standing open to the hay-scented air. But her gaze kept drawing back to the house itself, tidy and pristinely white, clad in a wonderful wraparound porch.

“What do you think?” Caleb asked. The question brought her back from her reverie, and she felt a rush of giddiness upon realizing that she wasn’t dreaming that this was her life now.

Alexandra laughed aloud. She shook her head in amazement. “It’s gorgeous,” she told him. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” She paused. “Is it all yours?”

The query was all innocence; only after it had slipped past her lips did she consider that he might be offended. She simply couldn’t wrap her mind around the value of a property like this one. The notion that her future husband might be wealthy had cropped up in daydreams, but nowhere else.

Caleb didn’t furnish her with an answer right away. His hazel eyes wandered away from her, growing distant. Afraid that she’d upset him, Alexandra hastened to correct herself.

“I must apologize if my remark came across as rude, or too eager,” she said. “It was certainly not my intention.”

He waved her off, although he still looked faraway. The wagon had slowed practically to a standing halt. Caleb replied in an odd, flat tone, his eyes moving across the fields. “It’s a reasonable question.” He pulled the wagon up alongside a gate in the fencing and leaned over the side, inspecting the rails. “Yes,” he added. “It all belongs to me.”

The wagon finally came to a true stop in front of the steps leading up to the porch. Caleb jumped down and came around to offer her a hand.

“Careful, now,” he said with a smile. The shadows that had played across his handsome features just moments ago were gone.

Alexandra took his hand and allowed him to guide her down. He fetched her trunks from the back of the wagon, carried them up onto the porch.

“Thank you,” she told him.

Caleb looked down at her. “You don’t have to thank me from now on, Miss Clarke.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Well, then you don’t have to call me Miss Clarke, do you? Alexandra will do nicely.

“Tell you what, Alexandra,” Caleb drawled. “You go on inside and make yourself at home. I’ll take care of the wagon.”

She grasped the handle of a trunk in each hand. “I’m sure I can manage that.”

But she sneaked a look behind her as they each turned to go their separate ways, and watched him stroll down the porch steps, back to the wagon. He cut a fine silhouette, that man, lean and strong, his shoulders broad.

Alexandra blushed. She scooted through the ranch house door before he had a chance to catch her glancing. The man was going to be her husband, for Pete’s sake! There was absolutely no need to be mooning over him like some hapless schoolgirl.

Besides, there was still a chance he could turn out to be an utter oaf. She had known her fair share of handsome, charming, completely boorish men back in Virginia. But even as she thought it, Alexandra knew Caleb wasn’t of that breed. There was too much quiet softness in his eyes.

“Excuse me, miss. May I help you?”

“Oh!” Alexandra looked up, surprised, directly into the smiling face of a woman in an impeccable work dress, her hair pulled back into a sensible bun. “Yes, I—Caleb sent me in.” She said this somewhat apologetically, and added, “I’ve never been here before.”

“No doubt, dear,” the woman replied merrily. Her eyes sparkled like sapphires. She stepped forward, holding out hands that were simultaneously slender and strong. “I’ll just take those, if you please.”

“These?” Alexandra looked down at her trunks. “I can—”

The woman made a clucking sound. Warmth radiated from her matronly face. “Don’t be silly, sweetpea. You must be Alexandra, and in that case, you are nothing less than our guest of honor.” Her middle-aged, plumpish figure belied a surprising strength; she snatched up the trunks as she talked, ferrying them off as easily as if they were made of paper. “Come along!” she called. “I’m sure you’re hungry!”

Alexandra was left standing in the front hall of the ranch house, empty-handed and more than a little bewildered. Her father had always done well enough for himself, but she’d never been attended by anyone, let alone named a guest of honor.

After a moment, she trailed the cheerful woman through the front parlor, past a staircase where her suitcases sat at the foot.

“Should I—” she began.

“Don’t even think about it!” came the reply. “We’ll get you all settled in after you’ve eaten.”

Alexandra was hungry. She hadn’t had anything to eat since a brief stop somewhere in the Midwest, hours and hours ago. The sheer excitement of embarking on her new adventure had kept her glued to her seat—that and the fear of having to stand as the train continued to fill. On cue, her stomach growled.

“My goodness.” The hostess touched a hand to her heart. “Oh, it pains me to think of a pretty thing like you near to starving!” She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, gesturing to it as she whirled away. “Sit, sit! Coffee or tea?”

Obediently, Alexandra planted herself in the chair. Her eyes tracked the woman’s flighty path around the spacious kitchen. “Tea, please,” she said, blinking. “Pardon me for having to ask, but…what is your name? And what shall I call you?” A chatty housekeeper was the last person she’d expected to encounter in Caleb’s house.

“Forgive my manners, dear, and call me Priscilla.” Priscilla let out a high, tinkling little laugh. “I suppose it is strange to think there will finally be a mistress of the house after all these years. But I, for one, couldn’t be more thrilled!”

She set bowls of sugar and cream down in front of Alexandra, who stared at them, bemused. It didn’t feel entirely proper to be discussing her status in the household outside of Caleb’s presence.  She cleared her throat. “This is a lovely home.”

Priscilla’s sigh was dreamy, perhaps wistful. “It is,” she said. “Lovely, and lonely too. Poor Caleb has been here by his lonesome for nigh on three years now, ever since…” She caught herself suddenly. “Well, never mind that. It’s not my place to say.”

Privately, Alexandra was dying to know, but she nodded. Priscilla bustled around the room, putting together the pieces of a hearty meal. The mug of tea came last, curling fragrant steam up into Alexandra’s face. She inhaled deeply. The tension in her body uncoiled.

“This is amazing,” she said. “Your hospitality is much appreciated.”

Priscilla looked like she was about to faint. “You poor thing,” she gushed. “You are just so precious! Oh, I’m so happy for you.” She clapped her hands. “Eat up. I’ll get your things all situated in the meantime.”

The sound of her old trunks bumping up the stairs turned into muffled footsteps above her head as Alexandra dutifully ate from the spread Priscilla had laid out. It was all fresh and delicious, and it exacerbated the hidden fatigue that was lurking behind a mask of excitement. By the time she was full, her eyelids had grown heavy.

She stood up and stretched, stifling a yawn. Priscilla, who had returned to the first floor, reappeared immediately, as though summoned by Alexandra’s fatigue. Again, she clasped a hand over her heart.

“Get some rest, sweet child, for goodness sake! I’ll have to see you up to your rooms so you don’t fall back down the stairs!” Preempting any protest Alexandra might think to make, the housekeeper ushered her along, to the end of a wide, airy hall on the second story.

A large picture window set straight into the wall looked down on one of the open green pastures, its smooth blanket of new grass speckled with the tiny buds of flowers. Alexandra floated out a hand to touch the glass. It looked like a scene from a fairy tale, a bedtime story woven specifically to encourage the sweetest of dreams.

To her right, a lock clicked open. Priscilla took Alexandra’s other hand, pressed a small key into her palm. “Keep that close,” she instructed firmly. “It’s the only one.” Then she pointed down the corridor toward another door. “Caleb is down there, if you ever find yourself looking for him.”

Alexandra could have sworn the housekeeper winked. She held in the laugh that threatened to spill out. “Thank you, Priscilla,” she said. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The lady beamed so bright she could have grown a garden all on her own. She tweaked Alexandra’s cheek gently. “Caleb Turner is a lucky man,” she said. And with that, she hurried off to resume whatever she’d been doing downstairs, pausing only to call over her shoulder, “Do let me know if you need anything at all!”

Alexandra smiled. She slipped the key into her pocket and pushed the door open. The rooms behind it were bright and airy, lit by streams of country sunlight. The wide, soft bed had a canopy draped with curtains that matched the ones on the windows. A decorative pillow sat against the headboard, hand-embroidered with the letter A.

Alexandra raised her eyebrows. Clearly, her arrival had been much anticipated.

She took a few minutes to explore the rooms, running her fingers over every surface, half waiting to wake from the dream she’d walked into. When she was satisfied that it was all real through and through, she set about the task of unpacking her things. The few items of clothing she’d brought stood at odds with the meticulous décor, the polished woodwork.

A soft sigh escaped her. She walked to the silver-framed mirror in the corner, took off her hat, and studied her reflection. The girl staring back at her looked more like another servant than anyone’s wife-to-be.

Alexandra frowned. She shook her head, set down the hat, returned to her open suitcases. If Caleb’s apparent wealth intimidated her, it was nothing she couldn’t get used to. She had just been delivered into the kind of life most girls like her would only ever dream of.

She had better make the most of it.

A light, courteous knock interrupted Alexandra’s organizing. She opened the door to reveal Caleb standing in the hall. He was hatless, on accord of being indoors, his rich chocolate hair slightly unruly.

“Hello, Caleb.” Alexandra smiled automatically.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It occurs to me that I ought to have warned you about Priscilla,” he said. “She can be overwhelming, but she does mean well.”

“I found her very charming,” Alexandra said.

The look he gave her was nothing short of skeptical. “Right. Anyway, I’d be pleased to show you around, when you’re ready. There’s a lot to see, and I figure you should probably start getting familiar.”

Alexandra glanced back at her half unpacked trunks and immediately decided those could wait. The prospect of spending time with Caleb was too tempting to pass up.

“Don’t let me interrupt you.” He’d picked up on her momentary hesitation.

“Not at all,” she told him, stepping across the threshold. “I was just thinking I could use a break.” 

Chapter 4

He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to have Alexandra with him on his initial rounds of the ranch. Normally, Caleb would not have given the total security of the place a second thought, but he had noticed a few concerning discrepancies as of late.

Just little things here and there: a misplaced milk pail, a saddle on the wrong rack in the tack room, feed bins open when he was sure they had all been closed.

Most of those things weren’t that big a deal. They could easily have been attributed to tired ranch hands slipping up at the end of a long, hard day. Caleb himself was hardly exempt from innocent mishaps; as long as they were corrected easily enough, he usually let them slide.

The gates, on the other hand, were a genuine problem. Over the course of the last few weeks, he had found no less than four gates whose locks were out of order in some fashion—either broken or not properly secured.

This level of carelessness could not be blamed on his staff, whom Caleb trusted implicitly. He knew they would never be so cavalier about the tasks he was trusting them to do.

That left only one plausible option. Someone was breaking in, and Caleb had made it his personal mission to find out who it was. He was not afraid of whatever he might discover, but he wasn’t naïve either.

Was it likely to be something dangerous? He didn’t think so. But could it be? No doubt. He liked to think of his ranch as an oasis among the stormy waters of the frontier. Not everyone out in Montana had the pleasure of looking out on acres of their own land, herding their own cows, grazing their own horses.

Jealousy lurked in the shadow of success. As well liked as Caleb was in nearby Maybelle, his fortune was not a secret. In fact, he’d considered himself lucky to have gone this long without some sort of incident.

In a way, he was overdue. And yet, he still went by Alexandra’s rooms to see if she wanted a tour of the ranch. She said yes, and he led her outside, making sure to stay more or less in front of her all the time.

Even as they walked toward the edge of the nearest field, Caleb knew he was taking an unnecessary risk. At the same time, ignoring Alexandra as soon as she arrived so that he could run all over creation trying to dig out an intruder who might or might not exist was out of the question.

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and so he chose what he considered to be the lesser of two evils.

If there was trouble, he would protect her. That part was not negotiable. As long as Alexandra was on the ranch, she’d be safe from harm. He had made this promise, however tacitly, and he was determined to keep it.

But there was no need to tell her yet. She hadn’t even gotten a good night’s sleep after her days of nonstop travel. And, he didn’t want to see that pretty face clouded by worry, nor field any of the questions she was sure to have.

He also did not want to encourage her to change her mind. To that end, he smiled as he headed toward the first paddock. “All this land here is for the horses,” he said. “All the way back, as far as you can see.”

Alexandra shielded her face from the sun. She had forgotten her hat in her room. Her deep jet hair glowed under the light. “How many horses do you have?” she asked.

He caught something unusual in her tone, an out of place subtext that refused to be identified. The way she waited for his answer was different too, less curiously expectant. The focus of her gaze shifted from his face to his feet and back again.

Caleb shrugged. “More than a dozen, I guess.” He stared out across the pasture at the meandering shapes of equines in the grass. Some of them stared back, swishing their tails.

 “You want to see them?”

The girl made no reply. She eyed the horses from where she stood. Her whole demeanor puzzled Caleb. He’d assumed for most of his life that women shared a love of horses. There was only one woman he’d known who hadn’t, and she only served to support his theory.

Bemused, he stepped up onto the lower fence rail, put two fingers into his mouth, and whistled. The piercing sound shot high across the field. He watched as the animals picked up their heads. A few started the gradual amble over to the fence.

“Come on.” Caleb motioned to Alexandra. “Might as well meet them while we’re out here.” She edged nearer to the fence, without uttering a word. He observed her carefully, unable to tell what she was thinking.

The first horse to arrive at the fence was a dark bay gelding, sugar-sweet. He hung his soft muzzle over the rail an inch or two from Alexandra’s cautiously upraised hand. She brushed it with the very tips of her fingers, pulling back when the animal snuffled her palm in search of food.

Then she laughed sheepishly. One hand cradled the other, as if she’d been injured.

Caleb gazed down at her. “He didn’t get you, did he?” he asked, knowing full well that there was no bite.

She shook her head. “No, he…he was all right.” But she backed away from the reach of the gelding’s long neck. Caleb reached out and patted the horse.

“He’d be a good ride for you, I bet.” As he got down off the fence rail and walked ahead, he didn’t quite notice that Alexandra’s face paled a shade or two at the suggestion.

“I’m a sorry horsewoman,” she said. He couldn’t tell if she was joking.

“If that’s true, it’ll have to be fixed,” Caleb told her. “There’s a law out here about having bad horsemen on a ranch. I’ll have to give up the deed to my land.”

“Very funny.” Alexandra frowned.

“Who said I was joking?” He kept a straight face for just long enough to unsettle her. She made a face when he chuckled. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very nice of me.”

“No.” The barest hint of a smile showed up on the corner of her mouth, which she tried to squash. But Caleb saw it first.

He softened. “You’re right. I shouldn’t tease you so early on. I’ll try again in a month or two.”

That made her laugh out loud, and he turned around to witness the joy blooming on her face. It all but convinced him that his earlier assessment had been fully correct: she was much too beautiful to need a husband by mail.

That train of thought was derailed by the impact of something sharp and cold against the back of his hand. Caleb grabbed onto it reflexively, stopping in his tracks. He glanced down to see a leather bridle clasped in his fingers.

His brow furrowed. “What’s this doing out here?” he murmured, more to himself than anything. A cursory check of their surroundings told him nothing about whose it might be; there was no tacked-up mount waiting for a rider, nobody getting ready to train a colt on the bit.

He took the bridle off the fence post, slung it over his shoulder. The metal buckles jingled, and the pad of his thumb brushed over a small worked section on the inside of one of the straps. As he resumed walking, he turned it out to see what had been tooled into the leather.

Caleb’s blood ran suddenly frigid. He blinked, passed a hand across his eyes just to make sure he hadn’t imagined it. Each time he looked, the symbol was still there, clear as day. And not just any symbol—it was one he knew.

“Caleb!” Alexandra broke through his daze. She touched his arm, her face a mask of concern. Upon seeing his expression, she shrank back a little. “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said in a small voice.

Caleb realized he was scowling. He repositioned the bridle on his shoulder, symbol down, and wiped his features of all emotion. “I’m fine,” he said softly. “Let’s go take a look at the barn.”

But his mind wasn’t on the big red barn, despite the fact that he led her straight to it. As soon as he stepped into the cool, pungent shadows, he tossed the bridle away, onto a hook. Just having that thing close to him made mild-mannered Caleb start to see some red.

He inhaled a deep, stabilizing breath, held it, let it out. The pressure in his head faded away. He felt like he could function normally again. “This is—” Mid-gesture, he stopped. Alexandra wasn’t standing beside him anymore.

He turned a slow one hundred and eighty degrees. She had hung back in the wide doorframe, peering into the dim depths of the center aisle. Box stalls lined both sides—some empty, some not. She seemed to be fixated on the horses.

“You know,” Caleb said, stepping back toward her, “you’re allowed not to like them.”

For an instant, her skin flushed a truly astounding shade of scarlet that faded from her cheeks almost as quick as it flared up. “I suppose I don’t,” she admitted grudgingly. “I hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”

Caleb smiled. He had only known this girl for a matter of hours, and yet she was rapidly becoming the most interesting woman in his life. “Tell me,” he said, “why you wanted to be a rancher’s wife if you don’t like horses.”

Alexandra pursed her lips. She turned her stance away from him, folded her arms protectively over her chest. It was obvious a nerve had been struck. She took some time to formulate a response, and when she spoke, her phrases were clipped.

“Horses are everywhere,” she answered. “It hardly matters where I go or what I do. I’ll see droves of them, regardless.”

He had to concede at least part of that point. “But surely you expected to be encouraged to ride, living out in the country.”

Alexandra lifted her chin. A fiery spark lit her green eyes. “Not if I asked you not to press me,” she retorted.

She cut a fierce, defiant figure, standing there in the doorway of the barn and challenging Caleb to go against her wishes. He had little doubt that if he attempted to move her the wrong way, not only would she stay right put, she’d give him hell for it.

“Fair enough,” he said mildly. “I’m not out to make you do anything you don’t like.”

Alexandra lowered her hackles. The narrow line of her mouth softened back into sweet coral. “You’re a wise man, Caleb Turner.” The light in her eyes twinkled now instead of blazing. “Don’t let anybody tell you any different.”

Caleb was so busy looking at her that he’d let his guard down without even realizing. He didn’t hear the rustling in the hay loft over their heads, the hay loft that should have been empty. The only warning he received was Alexandra’s expression morphing into shock and horror as the assailant dropped down on him from above.  

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