Page 7 of The Rancher's Wedding
The barn was getting smaller in the distance and Michael had made it about halfway to the grassy pastures when his mind started to drift. He realized how lonely this kind of work could be, especially with Jacob, his brother, giving him the silent treatment. Not that he blamed Jacob, who had every right to be upset. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t leave any scars.
Michael was still upset, too, even after all this time—he’d lost even more than Jacob had, if he was being truthful. Still, the ranch needed tending, and that gave him the motivation to get up every morning.
What he wanted, however, was to have a partner in all this. Someone who would help out on the ranch and maybe not be too bad on the eyes. But it was lonely work and, aside from the few times a month he had to head into town to pick up grain and other supplies, he didn’t do much interacting with people, let alone women.
He’d put an advertisement in one of those papers not too long ago, looking for a woman who would be willing to be his wife. He knew it was something of a hard sell. A woman could just as easily find herself a wealthy man who would care for her and let her live a life of comfort and luxury. But Michael knew he wouldn’t be happy in a life like that and figured there might be a woman out there who felt the same way.
He’d kept his expectations tempered. Michael wasn’t looking for love, nor was it even anything he wanted. He’d lost enough people he’d cared about in his twenty-four years and couldn’t risk any more heartache.
All he wanted was a woman who was willing to help out around the ranch and give him someone to talk to while doing it. Someone he could talk to who could actually respond, that is. And who didn’t mind the scars on his face.
It would be purely a marriage of convenience, beneficial for both parties, he believed. All the same, he hadn’t received any responses and suspected he never would.
He’d made it to the gate and led the cows to the field, where they pranced around, feeling a sense of freedom after being stuck inside all winter. Cows didn’t smile like humans, and they didn’t wag their tails like dogs, unless they were swatting away flies or feeling threatened. Still, there was joy in watching them run around, exploring the space they’d stay in for the next eight months or so, if they were lucky and the cold front didn’t roll in early again this year.
A few found places in the grass where they could graze, and Michael watched in awe at the beauty of the world he lived in. If only he could have put this image in the paper. If only there was a way to show all the bright colors or let a woman feel the warm sunshine on her face, he knew he could convince her that this life he led was heaven on earth. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.
He hopped off of Buttercup to close the gate, then hopped right back on her and called Daisy and Buckley so they could move on and start tending to the hogs.
***
The sun was setting and Michael had finished tending to his daily duties. He’d just sat down to eat some supper, after giving Daisy and Buckley their much-deserved steak, when the postal delivery man arrived. He didn’t come every day and, in fact, sometimes Michael went weeks without seeing him. But today was special. The postal worker dropped off a single letter, postmarked from Philadelphia of all places, with what appeared to be a woman’s handwriting on the front.
Michael was excited, but he tempered himself. It could be anything, though he wasn’t expecting any mail. He lit a candle and opened the envelope. Along with a letter, there was a small photograph inside.
He was taken aback by how much beauty could fit on one small piece of paper. She practically glowed, even in the sepia tones, radiating an energy that seemed to take hold of Michael, rendering him weak and unable to look away.
Michael stared for what felt like hours before remembering that there was a letter enclosed, as well.
Stopping himself, Michael whispered aloud, “You’re not looking to fall in love. You can’t do it.” Of course, it was just a picture, but this was a woman who instantly evoked the feelings of love—which was perhaps even more dangerous than someone he truly did love. Feelings of love could be deceiving and would often make men do reckless things. Michael was, still, only human, and, reading over her letter, he felt he had to respond that evening and send his response off first thing in the morning.
He didn’t want to let this woman get away.
And, in realizing that, he also realized he didn’t know her name. He’d read right past it in the letter. So, he looked one more time.
“Estelle,” he said, testing the name on his tongue. “Estelle.”
It sounded real good to him.
Chapter Three
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Two months later
The sun was rising, but Estelle hadn’t slept a wink. She was too nervous. Too much could go wrong and too much depended on things going exactly according to plan.
It was Megan who had proposed it—Megan was always the one coming up with the dangerous ideas. She was the one who’d set the whole thing in motion.
The letters went back and forth between Estelle and Michael. With each one, Estelle became more and more confident that the life she wanted to live was out in the country—spending each day outdoors, breathing fresh air, and having something to do from morning until night.
Michael did end up sending a picture and it was difficult to tell much from it. It lacked definition, but he was a pleasant enough looking fellow. Estelle particularly liked his hair, which was just long enough to reveal that he didn’t spend his mornings combing it or putting it just so.
Of course, the most important thing to Estelle wasn’t the man, but the life that came along with him.
Either way, he was certainly better than the alternative, about whom her father was getting pushier and pushier. He kept insisting that Estelle give Ethan a chance, though “chance” may not have been the right word as her father wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer. And, for that matter, neither would Ethan, who greeted her as though the two were already married, calling her “darling” and telling her she looked lovely, then asking her why she wouldn’t say “thank you.”
Her father would clear his throat or glare at her or give some indication that the conversation would not continue until she gave Ethan some form of verbal appreciation. It felt less like she was being wooed and more as though she was in training to become Ethan’s obedient dog.