What kind of woman could make a giant cowboy forget the desperate bargain that brought him into a saloon before midnight? Nathan Reed's fist struck the Copper Star Bar, rattling every whiskey glass.
"I need a wife before dawn."
Laughter burst around him until Emily Parker rose from the shadows, crossed the floor, and asked one question that left the whole saloon silent.
The swinging doors of the Copper Star Saloon struck the walls hard enough to turn every head in the room. Nathan Reed stepped through them with snow melting across the shoulders of his black wool coat. For a moment, nobody said anything.
That happened sometimes when Nathan entered a room. At 6'7", he had to dip his head beneath the frame. His shoulders nearly filled the doorway, and the cold followed him inside, curling around his boots before the doors swung shut behind him.
He removed his hat slowly, brushed snow from the brim, and looked across the crowded saloon. It was 11:45 on a Thursday night in December of 1887. Red Willow should have been asleep.
Instead, nearly half the men in town seemed to be packed around the Copper Star's scarred tables. A cattle shipment had come through that afternoon, leaving drovers with money in their pockets and no desire to spend the night quietly. Cards slapped wood, whiskey glasses knocked together, and somebody had been murdering the same tune on the upright piano for 20 minutes.
Behind the bar, George Miller stopped polishing a mug. Nathan walked forward. His boots sounded heavy against the plank floor.
"I need to ask something."
George glanced around the room. "Looks like you've got an audience."
A few men laughed. Nathan didn't. That alone quieted some of them.
He stopped near the center of the saloon, hat held against his thigh.
"I need an unmarried woman willing to become my wife before sunrise."
The silence lasted perhaps two seconds. Then the Copper Star erupted. One man nearly spilled his whiskey. Another slapped the table. A ranch hand at the far end shouted that Nathan had finally frozen his brains riding down from Black Ridge.
Nathan stood through it. He didn't raise his voice, didn't glare, didn't threaten anybody. He simply waited.
That was Nathan Reed's way. A man his size learned early that he didn't need to add much to a room. Sometimes merely standing still was enough.
George leaned both hands against the bar. "You're serious?"
"Yes."
That brought the laughter down a little. Nathan looked toward the clock above the whiskey shelves.
11:47.
"I've got until Judge Briggs leaves town in the morning."
Someone called, "What happens then?"
Nathan's jaw shifted. "My niece may be taken from me."
The room changed. Not completely. There were still smiles lingering around a few mouths.
But men who knew Nathan knew about Lucy. His younger brother had died the winter before. Since then, 9-year-old Lucy Reed had lived at Double Pine Ranch under Nathan's care.
Nathan continued. "Judge Walter Briggs heard the guardianship petition today. My uncle Charles claims Double Pine isn't a proper household for a girl Lucy's age. Says I'm away with cattle too often. Says there's no woman in the house and nobody suitable to raise her."
A chair creaked. The piano player had stopped altogether.
Nathan looked from one face to another.
"Briggs leaves on the 6:00 stage. He said he'd consider evidence tonight that my household circumstances have changed."
George frowned. "So, you're planning to get married in 6 hours."
"Less."
"To who?"
Nathan looked around the room. "That's why I'm here."
A few chuckles returned. Nathan let them.
"I'm not offering romance. Won't insult anybody by pretending otherwise. Whoever agrees gets her own room at Double Pine. I'll provide for her while the arrangement stands. I'll put the terms in writing before the ceremony. When Lucy's case is settled, if she wants to leave, I'll pay her enough to make a start somewhere else."
A drover lifted his glass. "That's the finest proposal I've heard all year."
Laughter rolled again.
At a table against the back wall, Emily Parker kept sewing. She had been repairing the torn lining of George Miller's winter vest beneath a kerosene lamp while waiting for the boarding house owner to finish visiting her sister upstairs.
Emily often worked late. People remembered her when buttons came loose, hems tore, account columns refused to balance, or winter coats needed another year coaxed out of them. At other times, Red Willow had a habit of looking through her.
She was 32, with brown hair pinned simply at the back of her head, and a full, broad figure she had long ago stopped disguising beneath uncomfortable clothes. Her dark blue dress had been cut by her own hand.
It fit her shoulders properly and allowed her to breathe when she sat. She pulled another stitch through George's vest.
At the nearest table, a cattle drover named Frank Dorsey leaned toward his companion.
"Reed's got a problem."
His companion grinned. "Looks like he's shopping for one."
Emily's needle stopped. She knew that tone. She had heard versions of it since she was 16.
Across the room, a young widow shook her head when Nathan's eyes passed briefly in her direction. Another unmarried woman laughed nervously and turned toward the bar.
Nathan wasn't choosing anyone. That seemed important to Emily. He was giving them the choice.
Frank Dorsey drained his whiskey. "Better start lowering your standards, Reed. Clock's running."
Nathan said nothing. Frank looked around, searching for another laugh. Then his eyes landed on Emily. His grin widened.
"There's Parker."
Several men turned. Emily placed the needle carefully into the cloth.
Frank lifted his glass toward Nathan. "She's unmarried."
A few men laughed. Someone muttered something Emily couldn't make out. Frank could. It encouraged him.
"Come on, Reed. You're a big enough man. Maybe the two of you could reinforce the floorboards together."
The laugh that followed was louder.
Emily looked down at George's vest. One stitch remained unfinished. She pushed the needle through, pulled the thread tight, knotted it, and cut the end.
Only then did she fold the vest and place it neatly on the table.
Nathan had turned toward Frank. There was no anger on his face, which somehow made the sight of him more unsettling.
"That's enough."
Frank raised both palms. "Just helping."
"No, you're not."
Emily stood. The chair legs scraped across the floor. Heads turned again. This time, the laughter faded on its own.
She picked up the folded vest, crossed the room, and placed it on the bar in front of George.
"Your lining's finished."
George looked from her to Nathan.
"Thank you, Emily."
She nodded. Then she walked toward the giant cowboy.
Nathan watched her approach. He had seen Emily around Red Willow before. Everyone had. She worked at Mrs. Bell's boarding house near the freight office and sometimes kept accounts for merchants whose arithmetic was worse than they admitted.
But he had never spoken more than a few words to her. Now she stopped 3 ft away. Nathan was so tall she had to lift her chin to meet his eyes.
Behind them, Frank whispered loudly, "Well, I'll be damned."
Emily ignored him.
"Mr. Reed."
"Miss Parker."
"You said the woman could leave after your niece's case is settled."
"Yes."
"And she'd have her own room."
"Yes."
"Would she be expected to work for you?"
Nathan considered the question instead of rushing his answer.
"Nobody lives on a ranch without work, but I wouldn't hire a wife under one name and use her as unpaid help under another."
Something shifted in Emily's expression, small enough that Nathan nearly missed it.
"And the girl, Lucy, does she actually want to stay with you?"
Nathan's fingers tightened around his hat.
"Yes."
"How do I know that?"
"You don't."
The answer surprised her.
Nathan continued. "You've got no reason to take my word for anything tonight."
The clock ticked above the bar.
11:55.
Emily could feel every eye in the Copper Star on her. Frank Dorsey gave a drunken snort.
"Lord Reed, you really are considering it."
Nathan turned his head. Frank smiled.
"Don't glare at me. I'm only saying a man must be desperate to marry."
"Mr. Dorsey."
Emily's voice wasn't loud. It stopped him anyway.
She looked at him for the first time.
"Your left suspender is held together with the button I sewed onto it last month."
Frank's grin faded.
"Your winter coat has a patch across the elbow I put there in November. And unless I'm mistaken, your wife sent me two shirts yesterday because you tore both hauling crates."
Someone at the card table coughed to hide a laugh.
Emily continued.
"You've trusted my hands often enough. You might try showing the rest of me the same courtesy."
Frank's cheeks darkened. Nobody rescued him.
Emily turned back to Nathan. He wasn't smiling. That mattered to her more than if he had been.
He simply waited.
She studied the man before her, the giant rancher. Everyone in Red Willow stepped aside for the man asking for a wife as though he were negotiating cattle feed because apparently he had no gentler way to ask.
She could have walked away. Part of her wanted to. Another part kept thinking about a 9-year-old girl waiting somewhere while adults decided where she belonged.
Emily folded her hands in front of her.
"Before I marry you, Mr. Reed, tell me whether you want a wife or merely a woman willing to help you fool a judge."
Nobody moved. George's polishing rag stopped halfway around the mug. A log broke inside the iron stove with a soft crack.
Even Frank Dorsey lowered his glass.
Nathan looked at Emily for a long time. Then his eyes shifted toward the clock.
11:57.
When he looked back at her, whatever desperation had brought him through those swinging doors was still there.
But he did not step closer. He did not soften the truth, and Emily waited to hear whether the next words out of Nathan Reed's mouth would send her toward the church or straight out the door.
Nathan did not answer quickly. The clock above the Copper Star Bar clicked forward another minute.
"I need the judge to see a household he considers fit. That's the truth of it."
Emily's face remained still.
"But if you're asking whether I'd have you stand in front of Briggs and lie for me, no."
"What would you have me tell him?"
"Whatever's true, and if the truth hurts your case."
Nathan glanced down at the hat in his hands.
"Then it hurts my case."
A little of the tension left Emily's shoulders.
Nathan continued. "I came here desperate, Miss Parker. Desperate isn't the same as dishonest."
"And Lucy?"
"She's staying at the Willow House tonight with Helen Foster. Helen owns the spread south of mine. Knew my brother. She's been helping with Lucy since he died."
Emily reached for her coat from the back of the chair she'd left.
"Take me to her."
Nathan blinked once.
"Now."
"If I'm expected to marry a stranger before sunrise, Mr. Reed, I believe I'm entitled to meet the reason."
George Miller covered something close to a smile by reaching for another mug. Nathan put on his hat.
"Fair enough."
Emily buttoned her coat. Frank Dorsey had finally discovered the wisdom of silence.