thought about that for a moment. “I suppose,” she acknowledged.
“This way you’ll have time to find a dress and decide what your sisters will wear.”
All of this was coming too fast and furious for her. Her head was swimming. “A dress! Travis, I haven’t worn a dress since my high school graduation!”
He grinned. “Well, maybe you can make an exception this one time. Of course if you feel more comfortable wearing your boots beneath it, go ahead.”
Megan forced herself to eat her sandwich while Travis chatted on as though he planned weddings on a regular basis and there wasn’t anything difficult about it. When she finished eating, he helped her clean up their dishes.
“Do you want me to be here when you tell the girls?” he asked, folding the dish towel he’d used and carefully hanging it on the rack.
“Uh, no,” she said quickly, jolted by the mere thought. “No, I can tell them. I’ve just got to decide how to bring it up.”
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the kitchen counter. “We could go to town tomorrow and look at rings.”
She hid her hands behind her back. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“Rings?” he asked, lifting his brow slightly. “Yes, I do.”
“I mean, if we go into Agua Verde to look for rings, everybody in town will know about it within the hour.”
He grinned, reminding her of the mischievous boy he’d once been. Not a good omen at all, in her mind. “Well, that’s one way of getting the news out.”
She dropped her gaze to the floor, feeling horribly out of her element. She had no problem discussing anything at all about the ranch or the girls, but rings? Weddings? Marriage? She’d never given them a thought.
“Or…we could drive into Austin, if you like. We could make a day of it, maybe see a show. You know, make an occasion of it. Surely you can stay out late for one night.”
She looked up and caught his intent gaze. “Why are you doing this, Travis? I don’t understand. Why are you willing to tie yourself up in such a fashion? Surely you’ve met women during your travels that—”
“None that I’d marry.”
“But still-”
“I always intended to marry a hometown girl, didn’t you know?” he said, grinning once again.
“Then why didn’t you marry Carrie Schwarz? You dated her most of your senior year.”
He looked startled. “Carrie? Isn’t she married?”
“She is now, but she waited for you for years.”
He laughed. “I doubt that.”
“No. She did. She went away to college, but came home as often as she could, hoping to find you here. She found out during the Christmas holidays that first year that you were seeing Trish Kronig whenever you were in town.”
“You sure have a memory for names. I’d forgotten both of those girls.”
She walked back to the window and looked outside. It was dark. The yard light near the barn gave off a faint glow. “I’m sure they haven’t forgotten you,” she said quietly, reminding herself how easily a heart could be broken. Hadn’t she congratulated herself for not being pretty enough to get his attention back then? Hadn’t she considered herself lucky that she’d never gone through what those girls had? Where was her sane, sensible self now, when she really needed her?
He picked up his hat. “All that was years ago, Megan. I was just a kid back then.”
She turned to face him. “But now you’re all grown-up, huh?”
He flashed his devastating smile, his eyes sparkling. “God! I hope so, since I’m making plans to get married and settle down.”
“But you aren’t giving up the rodeo,” she said pointedly.
“Well, no, not yet. I only have a few years to ride. The rodeo makes an old man out of you real quick.”
“Or kills you.”
He settled his hat on his head. “Not me. I’m too mean and too tough to die.” He opened the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. “I’ll pick you up right after lunch tomorrow, if that’s okay with you?”
She paused for a moment. Now was the time to back out, if she was going to. Unfortunately she had a sinking feeling in her stomach that she was actually going to go through with this completely insane idea. Her options were limited. She’d prayed for a way to save the ranch and she’d been given one. The irony of her situation flooded over her.
She crossed her arms, hugging them against her. “All right, Travis. I’ll be ready,” she finally replied, silently acknowledging to herself that in all of her life she’d never made such a frightening decision. She and the girls wouldn’t lose the ranch, but marrying Travis Kane could end up costing her even more than her home in the long run.
Keeping her distance from him had protected her as a young girl. What could she use as protection now?
Megan took a long, soaking bath after Travis left, trying to come to terms with what she had agreed to do. Eventually she got out and dried off, putting on her faded nightshirt and worn bathrobe, but she was too restless to go to sleep. Instead she curled up on the couch to watch television and wait for the girls to come home.
She was still on the couch, dozing, when she heard the family pickup truck coming up the lane. The thing rattled and roared, sounding more like a threshing machine than a vehicle for transportation.
She’d let Mollie take it into town last night, since both Mollie and Maribeth had wanted to spend the night with friends. They never complained about living twenty-five miles from town, but were always eager to go into town to visit their friends, or hang out at the local hamburger haven.
The girls didn’t complain about anything. She’d fought so hard to keep them when the county officials first suggested they might be placed in foster homes. She’d insisted that she could look after them and that with Butch’s help she could also run the ranch. After all, she’d been following her daddy around that ranch from the time she could walk. He’d have her sitting in the saddle in front of him on the back of his favorite mount or riding next to him in that old pickup.
She should have been a boy, but her dad never seemed to mind that he had girls. She remembered how he used to laugh when the other ranchers in the coffee shop would mention his harem.
There were times, like today, when the ache of missing her mom and dad was so painful she thought she might die from it. Maybe according to the calendar she was twenty-four years old, but she didn’t feel as if she’d ever gotten past sixteen when it came to knowing about men and how to socialize. In a few short hours her youthful teenage years had abruptly
