The whole town laughed when they sent 36-year-old Clara Whitfield to Ethan Cole's ranch. They called her the woman no man had wanted. They had no idea Ethan had wanted her for 17 years. He saw the wagon long before it reached his gate, rolling through the pale Wyoming dust beneath a burning afternoon sun. Ethan stood beside the barn with a hammer in one hand, watching the driver guide two tired horses toward his house.
Then he saw the woman sitting beside him. The hammer slipped from Ethan's fingers. Clara. For one terrible second, he thought the heat had pulled an old memory out of his head and placed it on the road. Then she lifted one hand to hold her hat against the wind.
Ethan knew that movement. He knew the chestnut hair pinned beneath the brown traveling hat. He knew the straight way she held her shoulders when she was nervous and refusing to show it. He even knew the small line between her brows when she was angry. 17 years had changed both of them, but not enough.
The wagon stopped outside the ranch house. Clara stepped down before the driver could help her. She wore a plain blue traveling dress, dusty at the hem, and carried one worn leather case. Her face was older than the girl Ethan remembered, but somehow more beautiful to him. There was strength in it now.
Years of being whispered about in church pews and ignored at town dances had put steel behind those gray eyes. Ethan walked toward her slowly. "What are you doing here?" Clara looked straight at him. "Apparently saving you from yourself." The wagon driver coughed to hide a laugh. Ethan's eyes narrowed.
"Who sent you?" "You already know." Of course he did. Walter Briggs. Mayor, cattle buyer, banker, and the kind of man who never offered kindness unless there was money buried beneath it. For 3 months, Briggs had been telling anyone who would listen that Ethan Cole could no longer manage 800 acres alone. Ethan's older brother had died the previous winter.
His ranch hands had been lured away by higher wages. Two storms had destroyed fencing and someone had poisoned one of his water troughs. Then Briggs had offered to buy the southern pasture. Ethan refused. A week later, the town suddenly became concerned about his unmarried condition.
Clara reached into her bag and removed a folded paper. The ladies committee decided you require a housekeeper. I require people to mind their business. That was my opinion, too. Then why are you here?
Her mouth tightened. Because they chose me. Ethan looked toward the wagon driver. The man suddenly found the horizon very interesting. Clara continued.
Mrs. Briggs announced it after church. She said a lonely rancher needed a woman in his house and an unmarried woman of my age ought to be grateful for useful work. Anger moved through Ethan so quickly he almost tasted it. They said that in front of everyone?
They said worse after. Ethan looked at her face again. She showed no shame. That somehow made him angrier. Clara Whitfield had spent years caring for her sick mother while other women married and raised children.
When her mother died, the town stopped calling Clara devoted and started calling her an old maid. As if loyalty had stolen her worth. Ethan had wanted to break more than one jaw over it. He never had. Because Clara did not know what she had once meant to him.
At least, he believed she did not. Get back in the wagon, Ethan said. Something flashed in her eyes. No. I'm not letting Briggs use you to humiliate me.
You think this is about your humiliation. I think Briggs planned it. So do I. That stopped him. Clara stepped closer.
The wagon driver quietly climbed back onto his seat. Walter Briggs wants your southern pasture, she said. I heard him speaking with two railroad men behind his office three nights ago. Ethan's expression changed. What railroad men?
I don't know their names, but they had survey maps. A cold feeling settled in Ethan's stomach. No railroad had officially announced a route anywhere near Cold Creek. Clara lowered her voice. One of them said the line cannot cross the valley unless Briggs controls your land.