Cowboys Don't Marry the Beauty

by Jessie Gussman

  “A billion dollars?”

  He glanced at her, his brow lowered. “No. Maybe half that.”

  She didn’t say anything for a while, taking a finger and stroking the puppies’ heads.

  Finally, she figured she’d just be honest with him. “I saw your letter.”

  His serious gaze studied her face. She could almost see his gears turning then clicking when he realized what she was saying.

  He looked down at his hands. “I didn’t worry too much about it. I’m not exactly in danger of being overrun by women eager to marry me.”

  “Me,” she said softly. Her heart pounded fast and loud.

  His breath hitched. She could almost feel the tension rolling off his body.

  “You know, tonight, I heard a lot of people saying the same thing. That I must have been paying you to be with me, because no one as beautiful as you would be with someone who looked like me. It got to the point where I started to believe it. That you’d left me and gone to the restroom because you couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stand to be embarrassed by me anymore. You were gone awhile, and that’s all the time it took me to start believing what those people were saying. I actually went out on the balcony and thought about leaving.” He took a breath, then his finger landed on the puppy’s head beside hers. “But there was a part of me that whole time that wouldn’t believe that. Didn’t want to, couldn’t. I don’t know. I was coming out to ask you, just flat-out ask, when I heard what you were saying to those women.” He turned his eye toward her. “I assumed they had decided that I was paying you to be with me, like everyone else. I guess one of them was willing to make the same sacrifice if the pay was good enough?”

  “Oh, Ford.” Her heart broke for the proud man beside her. She wished she could make all the nasty words go away. That she could protect him from people like that woman and her daughters. Ford was honorable and everything good. But probably for the rest of his life, he would deal with this.

  “Maybe being with me will make your life worse,” she said softly.

  “Never,” he growled.

  “Ford, just suppose you had that billion dollars. Could you produce the prototype yourself?”

  He pressed his lips together and stared off into the distance. A deep sigh came from his body, and he finally turned to her. “I’ve never done anything like that before. But, yes, I think I could.” He lifted a shoulder. “Owning your own business is often about taking calculated risks. The more dangerous the risk, the better the chance of profit.”

  “You’ve done pretty well for yourself.”

  “When I started, I took a lot of risks, because I really didn’t care. I’ve started to care more as the years have gone by.”

  “I think you can do it.”

  “I’m not sure I want to.”

  “Why not?”

  “I guess it was yesterday morning now, when I was working on Sawyer’s spread. I realized I kind of missed it.”

  “You want to be a rancher again?”

  “Maybe.”

  She laughed. “Maybe?”

  He gave her a sideways look.

  She raised her brows at him.

  He waited a minute then said softy, “I heard you say you loved me tonight. I don’t know whether you meant it or whether you were just saying it for those ladies’ sake—”

  “I meant it.”

  His lips quirked. He took her hand and held it in his. “I realized, maybe since the night you showed me Jupiter in the telescope, maybe before, that, despite how beautiful you are, I love you. Your intelligence. Your fire. Your kindness and determination. I’m not sure what you’re doing with me, or how long you’re going to stay, but I love you.”

  “How long do you want me to stay?”

  “Forever.”

  “What does this have to do with ranching?”

  “I don’t want to be a rancher if you can’t be happy with a rancher.”

  “Ford?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Will you marry me?”

  He laughed. “Isn’t that my line?”

  “I’m completely serious. Will you marry me?”

  He seemed to realize it was a legit marriage proposal and she wanted a legit answer. “I’d be honored to marry you.”

  “I don’t care what we do. Business. Ranching. Whatever. I don’t care. As long as I’m with you.” She leaned toward him, sitting beside her on the floor. “Since I was the one to propose, I get to be the one to kiss you, right?”

  “I thought we agreed kissing was a two-participant activity?”

  Her lips brushed his. “Can we argue about that later?”

  Epilogue

  Monday morning, Georgia Hanson was driving west after landing in Fargo on a red-eye. Her European trip had been fun, but she’d missed her home and was happy to be back.

  She’d just passed the sign for the Rockerton exit, which meant she was only two hours from her home, when her phone rang. She answered using the hands-free.

  “Ford?”

  “Hey, little sis. You didn’t text me when your plane landed.”

  “It was early, and I didn’t want to wake you. Didn’t you tell me yesterday that you thought you had a buyer for your prototype?”

  “Yeah. Unexpected. He wasn’t even on the list of potential buyers. But, yeah.”

  “So you’re heading to Las Vegas tomorrow?” Georgia tapped the steering wheel. Ford sounded different. Happier. Like his bitterness was gone. They’d texted a lot, but she hadn’t talked to him but a couple of times, and not in the last two weeks, now that she thought about it. It didn’t exactly make her feel better that she left for three weeks and he was better for it.

  “We’re leaving now. I, uh, Morgan and I figured we might as well get married while we’re there.”

  “What?” She hit the rumble strips on the right and swerved back into her lane.

  “I’ll explain everything to you later. But I wanted to ask a favor.”

  “What?” She wasn’t feeling overly generous. What had been going on while she’d been away? Maybe her leaving had been a good thing? She could hardly believe Ford was getting married. And he sounded happy.

  “Sawyer’s in the hospital in Rockerton.” Georgia’s heart came to a screeching halt in her chest. “He’s supposed to be doing better. But it’s going to be a while before they let him out. Would you mind stopping and checking on him. Just see how he’s doing? He’s not answering his phone, and I hate to leave without talking to him. We might get tied up in Vegas for a while.”

  Normally Georgia might have snorted at that. But she was trying to focus on driving and keeping her scattered insides from going crazy. Sawyer was in the hospital? Sawyer? How? What?

  “Georgia?” Ford asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

  “I’m hitting the Rockerton exit right now. What’s wrong with him?”

  “Pneumonia. Complications. He’s going to be out of commission for a while.”

  “Okay. I’ll stop.”

  He gave her the room number.

  “Ford?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Congratulations on your wedding.”

  He laughed. Ford laughed! And right then, she knew it was a love match. She couldn’t wait for the details.

  But worry for Sawyer soon outweighed all other feelings as she hung up and drove to the hospital.

  He’d been her brother’s best friend through everything Ford had gone through. A rock for her brother. And her lifelong crush. Of course, he didn’t know the little sister of his best friend was a woman.

  It wasn’t exactly his fault, either, since most people mistook her for a twelve-year-old. She’d stopped growing in about third grade, and she apparently had a baby face as well. Some women were short and curvy, which wasn’t bad. But Georgia belonged to the cursed group of women who were short and straight.

  So, she’d crushed on him from afar, which hadn’t been too bad. At least he wasn’t a ladies’ man. He didn’t have girlfriends. S
o there was that. But he was married to his ranch.

  After parking as close as she could, she hurried through the hospital, finding the right floor, where all the nurses seemed rushed and busy. She reached his room where the door was partially opened. Taking a breath, schooling her features, she patted her hair, which was a hopeless cause—it was wild and curly and would never be tamed—and pushed the door open, stepping in. The first bed held an older gentleman with a bandage on his chest and arm and who watched her with interest.

  The other bed was empty.

  Maybe that would have been okay. She might have thought she had the wrong room, but she was pretty sure the IV bag wasn’t supposed to have a bloody plastic dummy needle still attached to it and be dripping on the ground. Bright red blood stained the sheets, and a blood pressure cuff lay thrown on them, still attached to the blood pressure monitor.

  Velcro straps were attached to both side panels on the bed, like whoever had been in the bed had had his arms restrained.

  “He used his teeth to take them off.”

  Georgia looked at the old man who’d spoken. “You saw him?”

  “He asked me to help, but I couldn’t.” He held up his bandaged arm and pointed to the thick bandage on his leg. “I can’t even go to the bathroom by myself.”

  Ah, yes. That last tube that lay curled around on the balled-up sheets must have been a catheter tube. A bag of yellow liquid was attached to the side of the bed, under the Velcro restraints.

  “How long has he been gone?”

  “You almost had to have passed him.”

  Georgia closed her eyes. Should she call Ford?

  “I’d say forget it if you’re thinking you can get him back in here. They’ve had him tied up for two days. He’s not the kind of man that can lay around.”

  “But he’s sick. He needs to be here.”

  “He’ll either live or die, but he’s not going to do it in the hospital. You his sister?”

  “No.”

  “He’d be a good man. But you’re not going to boss him.”

  And well she knew it. She wouldn’t mind Sawyer being her man, but it wasn’t something that was likely to happen. Sawyer called her kiddo. Like she was seven instead of twenty-seven.

  “Did he say what he was planning?”

  “Jailbreak.”

  “Nothing long-term?”

  “Figure he’ll walk home.”

  “It’s two hours away by car.”

  “They took his clothes, so he’s in bare feet and a hospital gown. Those gowns don’t cover much, I got a good look at his backside as he walked out. Quite a sight—”

  Georgia put her hand up. That was enough. She didn’t need to hear more about that particular part of his anatomy. It filled out a pair of jeans pretty darn good, and she had enough trouble not staring at it when it was covered properly.

  “Got it,” she said. “I’m looking for a barefoot, half-naked, bleeding man. One that’s more stubborn than any mule.”

  “Good description.”

  “Thanks for your help.”

  “I’d’a gone with him, but I can’t walk.”

  Georgia shook her head and walked out.

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