The Bride Wore Spurs

A motionless lump.

Holding her breath, Hannah slid away the sack, waiting for the calf’s chest to rise, fall. Nothing. She ran to Star, jerked her bedroll from behind her saddle and wrapped the blanket around the glistening calf, rubbing the fibers over its hide.

“Come on, baby. Breathe,” she said, warming the calf.

The calf jerked and sucked in air. Its eyes opened and stared up at her. Hannah peered into those dark eyes. “Well, hello there, little guy.”

The cow lunged against the rope, determined to reach her calf. Matt grabbed Hannah’s hand, pulled her out of harm’s way, then untied the rope and removed the lariat. The cow paid them no mind, merely circled to the now bawling calf and proceeded to lick every inch of him. Within minutes the calf staggered to his feet, swaying against the pressure of his mother’s tongue, keeping his balance, barely. A quick maneuver by the mother and he found nourishment.

His grin as wide as the outdoors, Matt met her gaze. “Looks like they’ll both make it, thanks to you.”

“And you. You told me what to do. If you hadn’t decided to ride out here and check on the cows dropping calves...”

“Most likely they’d have both died. We’ll head to the south range.” He winked. “Maybe next time, you’ll help birth twins.”

“I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

With a chuckle, he swept a hand toward her. “No debutante would be caught looking like that.”

Hannah glanced at the damp smears streaking her shirt and denims. “I’m no debutante, remember?”

“I’m starting to believe it. You and I make a good team.” The mischief left his gaze. A gaze that suddenly turned tender. “You love this land, the ranch, the cattle. Everything.”

“I do.”

“I do, too.” He touched her hand. “Reckon with all those I dos, we’d better get hitched and keep you here.”

Her gaze locked with his. She lost herself in his eyes, dark, mysterious, full of life and offering marriage.

“See something you like?” he said, dimple twinkling.

Heat surged to her cheeks. Nothing about the man met her disapproval. “No, nothing much.”

When had she uttered a bigger lie?

Matt’s self-assured, relaxed posture said he was sure of himself—and of her, most likely. Why wouldn’t he be? She’d done the proposing. First.

“With the six-year difference in our ages and your year away, we don’t know each other all that well. But, we’re alike in our bond with this land.” Expression earnest, Matt leaned toward her. “I can think of far worse reasons to marry.”

Just like that, with few words, the bargain was sealed.

“We need to do this right,” he said, taking her hand and sending a shiver along her spine. He moved as if to get down on one knee.

With a gasp of protest, she snatched her hand away. “This marriage is business only. No need for a proper proposal.”

“Is it really? Just business for you?”

Her gaze settled on those eyes searching hers, as if peering into her soul. She wouldn’t get swept up by a handsome face and fall for a man. Not even a man with a dazzling smile and a dimple begging for her touch.

At her silence, he took a step back, erect, formal. “Hannah Parrish, will you marry me?”

A lump rose in her throat. Once she agreed, there’d be no turning back. Yet what choice did she have? “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“We’ll need to marry soon.”

Hannah stiffened. “How soon?”

“Today’s Monday. Can we get it done by Thursday?”

Get it done. As if marriage was on his list of chores. Her stomach clenched. How could she be ready in three days?

“Martin’s a very sick man,” he reminded her. “He’d want to see you wed.”

For Papa she could do anything. “Yes,” she said in a voice that wobbled.

“I’ll do my best to be a good husband.” His soft tone matched the kindness in his eyes.

She had no idea what constituted a good husband...or for that matter, a good wife. Could she fit into a husband’s expectations? Especially a mature man like Matt?

One thing Hannah knew, she could never abide a bossy spouse. Papa seldom gave her orders. Until now. She’d grown up making her own decisions and had felt stifled under Aunt Mary Esther’s thumb. She couldn’t imagine a lifetime of being dictated to by a man. Would Matt allow her the freedom she needed?

Her gaze swept the land. To remain on the ranch, to keep her way of life and to give her father peace, she’d marry.

If only they had more time.

If only Papa wasn’t dying.

If only they were in love.

She thought of the tenderness that had fleetingly appeared in Matt’s eyes. Perhaps love was possible...eventually.

No, that expectation was a foolish peg to hang her heart on. A fairy-tale ending wasn’t what she wanted. She would deal with the real world. Papa was dying. To run the ranch and remain on the land she loved, she’d marry a man she didn’t.

Chapter Five

Wound tighter than a coiled spring, Matt rode into the Circle W stable, stripped leather, then brushed Thunder’s coat. As Matt led the stallion to his stall, fed and watered him, large, wide-set eyes alert with intelligence gazed back at him. Quick, smart and high-spirited, much like his future wife.

But Hannah was a woman, not trained to bridle and bit. Truth was, she held the reins, using him to keep her ranch. Not that he didn’t want the same.

At the pump, he scrubbed his hands and doused his face and neck. Had his admiration for Hannah’s coolheaded competence during a calf’s difficult birth triggered his proposal?

No, he had prayed for wisdom. Felt a deep certainty he’d been led by God and had done the right thing. He wanted to give Martin peace. He wanted to help Hannah. He didn’t want love. The lack of expectations in this marriage fit him perfectly.

Cal and his family were joining them for supper. Normally a good time, but with the task of telling his family the news, his steps lagged. No doubt they’d question his sanity.

He found his mother and Cal’s wife, Susannah, in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. “Smells good, Ma,” he said, letting the screen door slap behind him. “Hi, Susannah.”

Blond silky hair swept into a sleek bun, Susannah looked up from laying plates on the table and smiled. Fair and blue-eyed, Cal’s petite wife had an innocent, delicate quality about her, yet had a mind of her own if the occasion warranted.