“That Can’t Be My Bride…” — The Loner Rancher Stared as a Stunning Woman Stepped Off the Stagecoach

“Didn’t know I needed your permission.”

Mercer’s eyes fixed on Clara. “Pretty thing. That the mail-order bride folks in town were talking about?”

Clara’s expression did not change. “I’m Clara Whitmore, and you’re on Mr. Boon’s land.”

“That so?” Mercer grinned. “Funny thing about land out here, Miss Whitmore. Sometimes the boundaries get a little unclear, especially when there’s not enough men around to defend them.”

Caleb felt his jaw tighten. “State your business, Mercer.”

“Just being neighborly. Wanted to let you know some of your cattle wandered onto my property last week. I’ve got them penned up. Figure you owe me for feed and handling.”

“My cattle haven’t been anywhere near your property.”

“You calling me a liar?”

The 2 men behind Mercer shifted in their saddles. Their hands moved closer to their weapons. Clara spoke before Caleb could.

“How many head are we talking about?”

Mercer looked at her. “15.”

“Interesting. Because Mr. Boon just finished a full count 3 days ago. He’s not missing any cattle.” Clara’s voice stayed level. “So either you’ve got the wrong rancher, or you’re looking to cause trouble for sport.”

“You got a mouth on you, lady.”

“I’ve got a brain too, and I can count. So can the sheriff in Helena. You want to file an official claim about those cattle? I’m sure he’d be happy to ride out and verify the brands.”

Mercer’s grin faded. “Brands can be changed.”

“Not legally.” Clara nudged her horse forward 1 step, and not without leaving evidence any territorial judge would recognize. “My uncle dealt with brand alterations twice. Both times, the men who tried it ended up in federal prison.”

The temperature between the 2 groups dropped faster than the weather.

“Caleb,” Mercer said, his eyes still on Clara, “you might want to teach your woman some manners.”

“She doesn’t need teaching,” Caleb said quietly. “And she’s right. You’ve got business with me, we do it proper through official channels. Otherwise, you’re trespassing, and I’ve got every right to defend my property.”

For a long moment, nobody moved. Then Mercer laughed.

“Hell, Boon, didn’t know you had it in you. Maybe marriage is making you brave.”

He pulled his horse around. “We’ll be seeing you.”

The 3 men rode off. Caleb waited until they disappeared over the ridge before he spoke.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?”

“Called him out like that. Mercer’s dangerous.”

Clara’s hands were shaking just slightly, but her voice stayed steady. “He was testing you. Testing whether you’d back down with a woman present. I couldn’t let him think you would.”

“This isn’t your fight.”

“It became my fight the second I agreed to work this ranch.” Clara turned her horse back toward the cattle. “You think I don’t know how men like that operate? He’ll be back, probably with more men, probably with a better plan. But today, today we showed him you’re not alone anymore. That matters.”

Caleb stared at her. “You were scared.”

“Terrified. But I didn’t show it. Showing fear to men like that is the same as showing weakness, and weakness gets you killed.” Clara met his eyes. “My uncle taught me that right before he shot a claim jumper who tried to burn down his trading post. Sometimes the only thing standing between you and disaster is the willingness to look dangerous even when you’re not.”

The sky opened up an hour later. Not snow, not yet. Freezing rain came down in sheets and turned the trail into an icy nightmare. The cattle balked, refusing to move forward.

“We can’t leave them here,” Caleb shouted over the wind. “They’ll freeze tonight.”

“Then we make them move,” Clara shouted back.

She dismounted, walked straight into the herd, and started pushing cattle physically, her hands on their flanks, her voice cutting through the storm. “Move. Come on, you stubborn beasts. Move.”

Caleb had seen men quit in weather like this, men twice Clara’s size with 3 times her experience. Clara did not quit. She pushed, pulled, grabbed a rope, and used it to guide the lead cow forward. Her dress was soaked through. Her hair was plastered to her skull. She had to be freezing. She kept moving.

Caleb joined her. Together they forced the cattle forward 1 agonizing step at a time. It took another 2 hours to reach the lower pasture. By the time they got the last cow through the gate, the freezing rain had turned to sleet.

Clara’s lips were blue.

“Cabin,” Caleb ordered. “Now.”

She did not argue. They stumbled inside. Caleb’s hands shook so badly he could barely get a fire started. Clara collapsed near the fireplace, still shaking.

“Get those wet clothes off,” Caleb said.

“Turn around first.”

He did. He heard the wet fabric hit the floor, heard her wrap herself in the spare blankets he kept near the hearth.

“All right,” she said.