It's the least I can do after your understanding. Carrick nodded and headed for the door, then paused. Miss Foster. Yes. Whatever happened in Boston, it stays in Boston.
Out here, you get to decide who you are. A genuine smile touched her lips for the first time. Thank you. Outside, as Carrick walked toward the barn, he wondered what he'd gotten himself into. A male order bride with a ruined reputation wasn't what he'd expected.
But then he suspected his ranch wasn't what she'd expected either. He'd give her a week, he decided. One week to see if they could forge something real from this unexpected beginning. Amelia stood motionless in the center of the kitchen long after Carrick had gone. Her hands trembled as she unpinned her hat and removed her travel stained gloves.
The kitchen was surprisingly well organized for a bachelor's home pots hung neatly. Dishes stacked in orderly fashion. A wood burning stove that looked recently blackened. She moved to the water pump at the sink, working the handle until cool water flowed. Splashing her face, she tried to wash away the evidence of her tears.
How mortifying to arrive in such a state, confirming every stereotype of the hysterical female. Yet, mister Montgomery's response had been unexpected. No demands, no immediate rejection of her confession, just that steady gaze and the simple offer. You don't have to pretend with me. Could she trust such generosity?
Experience had taught her that men's kindness often came with conditions. She explored the house while gathering ingredients for supper. The parlor contained a comfortable looking armchair positioned near the bookshelves, which held an impressive collection for a frontier rancher history, poetry, even some novels. A desk in the corner held papers neatly stacked, suggesting Mr. Montgomery kept careful records of his business. Upstairs, she returned to her bedroom to change into a fresh dress.
The room was larger than she'd anticipated, simply furnished but comfortable, with a window overlooking the western range. The wild flowers were a particularly thoughtful touch. As she unpacked her meager belongings, Amelia wondered what Carrick Montgomery really wanted in a wife. His advertisement had been straightforward. Rancher seeks practical, hardworking woman for marriage.
Property established but expanding, companionship and partnership offered in return for same. No flowery promises or romantic declarations. By the time Carrick returned to the house, Amelia had prepared a simple but hearty meal of salt pork, beans, and biscuits. She'd found a jar of preserves in the pantry and set it on the table alongside butter she discovered in the springhouse. He entered, removing his hat and hanging it on a peg by the door.
The scent of food made him pause, an expression of pleased surprise crossing his face. "You didn't need to go to such trouble," he said, washing his hands at the basin she'd prepared. "It's no trouble. I enjoy cooking." Amelia gestured toward the table.
"Please sit." They ate in awkward silence at first until Carrick asked about her journey west. Gradually, conversation flowed more naturally as they discussed neutral topics, the changing landscape she'd witnessed from the train and stage a coach windows. The unusual spring weather Wyoming had experienced. The ranch has 60 head of cattle now, Carrick explained as they finished eating. started with just 12, planning to double the herd in the next two years.