A Rancher Of Convenience. Regina Scott
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“I suppose I feel guilty,” he allowed, setting down his glass. “By reporting on the business of the league, I aided Mr. Bennett with his thieving. Seems only right to help his widow and child.”
Her gaze dropped to her still-full plate. “Not everyone would think that way. Lucas always said you and Mr. Upkins and Billy would ride on when you tired of the place. You marry me, Hank, and you stay here. This would be our home.”
He realized his knee was bouncing and forced it to stop. Staying put might not be so bad. He’d been a tumbleweed for too long. He couldn’t have faced a future in Waco, not with all the bad memories of his father and Mary Ellen, but maybe Little Horn could be home.
“I can settle,” he told her.
She didn’t look as if she believed him, fork once more rearranging the food on her plate.
“I must ask one more thing of you,” she murmured, gaze following the movement of the silver. “If we marry, we would put this ranch in trust for the baby. You and I would have to agree to any changes in that trust.”
He nodded. “That’s as it should be. A man wants his children to inherit what he built.” If that man could believe in his children. His father never had.
She drew in a deep breath. “Very well, then, Hank. We can talk to the lawyer in town, set up the papers to be signed the day of our marriage.”
Hank stared at her, feeling as if the stew had multiplied in his stomach. “Our marriage?”
She nodded, laying down her fork at last. “Yes, Hank. I am agreeing to your proposal. I will marry you.”
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