became a part of his life, he’d helped with roundups. He had thought that he would always have the ranch and the surrounding land as a place to go. Doug’s death had thrown everything into confusion. No one connected to the ranch had any idea how long or even if they would continue working there. And he didn’t know how much longer he would be welcome.
This woman had not admitted anything, but he knew in his gut that she would sell the ranch. There was nothing to hold her here—nobody that she knew, no inkling of ranching experience. She would never want to keep up a place this size. By the way she dressed, she obviously came from money. She would head right back East with the first snowstorm of the season.
He pulled on the reins, slowing the horse and buggy as they passed a weathered, whitewashed post.
“This is the northern boundary of the Stewarts’—of your property. That post is the marker. It’s another mile to the ranch house.” He urged the horse on with a sharp whistle of air between his teeth.
They rode the rest of the way in silence. When the outbuildings first came into view, Mrs. Stewart straightened at his side. “This cannot be right,” she murmured.
“This is the Rocking S Ranch... The Stewart ranch.”
“But it’s much bigger than I anticipated. Everything is much bigger. I’m confused.”
He looked over the scene, trying to envision it as a newcomer. The main house was a two-story wooden structure with a large wraparound porch, freshly painted white with dark green trim. Wildflowers, overgrown with weeds, edged the porch. A large stable stood across the dirt drive with the bunkhouse—lodging for the ranch hands—and tucked back behind the house was the cookhouse. The place looked the same to him as it had for the past twenty years. The only real change he could see was the small sapling that Mrs. Stewart had planted in the front yard. The oak tree was now twenty feet high and the only tree in sight for miles.
Beside him, the new Mrs. Stewart sniffled. She fumbled with the drawstring on her reticule. “Drat,” she mumbled in exasperation, searching for something inside.
He stopped the horse, giving her a chance to find what she was looking for. A second later she withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed at the moisture in her eyes.
Was she crying about a house? He’d never figure out women...
She caught his look and turned away from him.
Guess he hadn’t treated her all that well. Whatever was going through her head about the ranch didn’t matter. It was none of his business. What did matter was that it wasn’t the way to honor his friend’s memory. For whatever reason, Doug had chosen this woman to wed, which meant Wolf should at least treat her with respect. “What’s wrong?”
She sniffled again and looked back at the house. “I wish my parents were here. They said his house would be a hovel—a dirt hut. And that his cattle were likely mangy. And that his property would be mud and dirt and not nearly enough to survive on. They should see this. It is beautiful.”
She turned back to him. “Why would he do that? Why would he purposely lead them—and me—to believe those things when they weren’t true? He even called it a farm.”
Her question took him off guard. It painted her in a different light—one that was softer than he had first suspected. A bit more vulnerable...and maybe a bit more innocent. At least he knew for sure that she hadn’t married for money now. It was Doug who had tricked her instead of the other way around.
“The joke is on both of us, Mrs. Stewart. You didn’t marry Doug for his property.”
“Of course not. I didn’t know he had much.”
“Telling you all those tales was his way of making sure it was him you wanted and not his money.”
She sniffled again. “I suppose you are right. He constantly surprised me. That’s one of the things I loved about him.” She drew in a shaky breath. “How I wish he were here with me now.”
“He is here. His spirit is here.”
He snapped the reins, urging the horse on. Another few minutes and he pulled the animal to a stop at the front steps. He jumped down and strode around to her side of the rig. After a second’s hesitation, she let him assist her to the ground. His hands spanned her waist easily, and when she landed, he felt a slight tremble flow through her.
She darted a glance his way and then stepped quickly back from him, squaring her shoulders.
But that look had revealed a thing or two. She wasn’t as sure of herself as she tried to act.
Before he could ponder on it further, Barker strode out onto the porch. His clothes were a cut above what Wolf had seen him wear in the past. Had he taken to wearing his Sunday clothes all the time? Or had he seen them coming down the lane and cleaned up for Mrs. Stewart’s arrival?
“This is Mrs. Douglas—” Wolf began.
“I know who she is.” Barker interrupted him. An ingratiating smile inched up the older man’s face as he came down the front steps. “A pleasure, Mrs. Stewart. We’ve been busy getting things ready for your arrival. I’m Cleve Barker, the manager here at the Rocking S.”
Barker’s attitude took Wolf by surprise. Courtesy was not part of the man’s makeup, which immediately put Wolf on alert. Yet Mrs. Stewart seemed won over by the foreman, answering his greeting with a relieved smile. Wolf frowned at that. Barker’s graciousness was likely insincere, but it sure made his own greeting less than hospitable. Guess he could have been more welcoming.
“Then I suspect I shall have to forgive you for not meeting me at the train,” Mrs. Stewart said.
“Oh, I knew Wolf here would see to your transportation. Or the sheriff. Or any number of others in town. We have been preparing for your stay here ever since receiving your letter. I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am. A sad day indeed for all of us here when we learned of Doug’s passing. Particularly for me, seeing as how he was my cousin.”
Her smile—the first Wolf had seen—revealed dimples. “Douglas mentioned that you are related.”
“Second cousins. His mother’s side. Which means that you must call me Cleve. We are family now too.”
Wolf pressed his lips together, skeptical of this side of the man. Barker oozed an oily kind of charm that put Wolf on edge.
Mrs. Stewart allowed Barker, his hand on the small of her back, to escort her up the steps to the porch. He opened the door for her. “Come right in.”
When Wolf would follow, Barker stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “I can take things from here.” His hard gaze challenged Wolf to say otherwise.
Wolf didn’t like this. Something didn’t sit well with him about the entire situation. “I figured I’d carry up her trunk.”
Barker looked over Wolf’s shoulder to the buggy. “Leave it on the porch. My men can bring it inside later.” He didn’t budge, still blocking Wolf’s path.
His men? Wolf knew Barker wanted the ranch. Once he had learned Doug wasn’t coming back, he’d wasted little time changing things around the place to suit him. But the fact remained it was Mrs. Stewart’s property.
