Ten Rules for Marrying a Cowboy

by Linda Goodnight

  Rachel looked up, her eyes round and dancing. “A contract?”

  Courtney laughed. “Uh-huh. And, he’ll provide a good home. Sounds like he’s adopting a cat.”

  AnnaLeigh laughed too. “It is a little insulting.”

  “Oh, you haven’t heard the best of it yet. Get this.” Courtney scrolled down to read.

  Requirements of the perfect matrimonial candidate:

  Must love his child.

  Must be a Christian.

  Makes no demands on him, his time, or his money. Especially his money.

  Adequate cook and house keeper-Not that picky.

  Is desperate enough to go along with his rules without negotiation.

  Plain Jane preferable. He has no need to find her attractive and no time to worry about her cheating on him.

  Doesn’t mind being stuck out in the country for long periods of time. (See number 3)

  Healthy

  Smiles a lot and smells good.

  Knows how to fix girl hair.

  (Daughter added numbers 9 and 10.)

  “He sounds like he’s advertising for a mail order bride.” Rachel laughed, shaking her head. “This can’t be real. Someone’s pulling a joke.”

  “Either that, or this guy is lost in a previous century,” Courtney adjusted her scarf. Not that it was anywhere near out of place. “No woman would agree to this list of ridiculous expectations. Marriages of convenience went out with the Pony Express.”

  “I don’t know,” Rachel said. “There are some lonely people out there desperate to find someone.”

  “Go ahead then, Rachel,” Courtney teased, with a grin. “Message the guy.”

  Rachel backed away, one hand raised. “I’m not desperate. I’m not even in the market. You message him. Find out if he’s on the up and up.”

  “Not me! I’m a city girl. I don’t do country.”

  “Or clean or cook.”

  “See?” Courtney flipped her scarf to one side with an airy toss. “I’m not qualified. Such a downer. And here I was longing for a cowboy. Not!”

  The two women giggled and rehashed the outrageous profile rule by rule. There was more. Something about him being loyal and promising not to cheat or mistreat a wife. And offering a salary. The latter caused more laughter. He was willing to pay someone to be his wife?

  Like Rachel, AnnaLeigh couldn’t help wondering if the post was genuine. Probably not. But if it were, what kind of man would be desperate enough or arrogant enough to write it?

  He was either a creep and a jerk or a man out of options.

  She knew all about being out of options.

  Like a gnat, a teeny tiny idea buzzed at the back of her brain. She mentally swatted it. It was a crazy idea, too crazy to consider.

  Yet, the gnat went right on buzzing all the rest of the day and followed her home that evening.

  Once alone in the comfort of her cozy apartment, AnnaLeigh was unable to resist a second look. She downloaded the dating app and opened the profile on her phone.

  As she reread, she started to believe the post was real. The man had a little girl who needed a mother. No one would make that up, and there was something sort of sweet and noble about a man who would go to such links for his child.

  Maybe he wasn’t arrogant at all. Maybe he was at the end of his rope. Like she was.

  Rule number five stood out to her. He wanted someone who was desperate enough to go along with his rules without negotiation.

  The hair on her arms tingled. How desperate was she?

  Like him, her focus was her child.

  Marriage meant a name change. And a husband. Both could mean security and protection. For her. For the baby.

  A fist seemed to squeeze her heart, cut off her air. Was she actually considering a marriage of convenience to a stranger?

  Maybe she was. Maybe this was the safety net she and her baby needed.

  But what if he was just another version of Alan?

  “Don’t be insane.” She closed the app and decided to forget the cowboy and his proposal.

  Days passed, and the idea was never far from AnnaLeigh’s thoughts. To make matters worse Courtney popped in regularly to update them on the clueless cowboy who still waited for his woman.

  One night, while waiting for a chicken breast to bake, the idea gnat in AnnaLeigh’s head buzzed so loudly, she clicked on Facebook to silence it. She missed her friends and was grateful for Jazmine, who maintained frequent contact through messages.

  Eager to hear from her friend, she opened the messages icon. As if protecting the treasure within, her belly clenched. Alan. Again. She’d hoped, wished, he’d have moved on by now.

  Hand against her stomach, AnnaLeigh scanned his words.

  Don’t think you can walk out on me and get away with it. No one leaves unless I say they leave. No one. I will find you, you—

  The note went on, cruel, threatening, and obscene.

  Keep your mouth shut or else.

  Blood rushed to her cheeks until they felt on fire. Her mouth went dry. Fear raced through her blood, roared in her ears.

  She pressed shaky fingers to each temple.

  Alan thought she knew too much about his shady business practices. She didn’t. She’d been suspicious and had left, in part, because of those suspicions, but she possessed no evidence. If she did, she’d have already gone to the police.

  Alan wasn’t a man to mess with. If he thought she knew something, he wouldn’t stop until he’d found her.

  He didn’t want her back in Colorado because he loved her or missed her. He wanted her back so he could shut her up.

  AnnaLeigh’s stomach revolted. She shot upright and rushed to the bathroom, where she heaved over and over again.

  When the sickness ended, she slid to the cold tile floor, head in icy, trembling hands.

  Stress this bad couldn’t be good for the baby.

  What was she going to do? How could she protect herself and her baby against a criminal who she knew, all too well, had no qualms about violence?

  Times like this she wanted to believe in God, in Someone somewhere bigger than herself, bigger and stronger and smarter than Alan.

  How many times as a child had she prayed? For a family, or not to move again. For someone to love her forever. After a while, she’d given up.

  But what did she have to lose? Even if praying didn’t help, it couldn’t hurt.

  “God, if you’re real,” she whispered to the white ceiling tile, “I’m asking for your help.”

  That was it. That was the only prayer left inside her. A prayer spoken without a shred of faith.

  Struggling to a wobbly stand, she took her cell phone from the vanity and went to lie on the couch. When she closed her eyes, the rancher’s dating profile appeared on the dark screen of her eyelids. Again.

  She wanted to laugh—at herself, at him, at the lunacy of the whole thing, but there was something poignant and endearing about the man’s awkward, bumbling attempt to secure a mother for his daughter. He was willing to marry a stranger for the sake of his child.

  Was she willing to do the same?

  Though she’d avoided it for days, AnnaLeigh opened the dating app one more time and went straight to the rancher’s profile. The man obviously liked kids. And he sounded financially able to support a wife and a child and a ranch. He promised not to cheat or abuse, two amazing promises she’d never gotten from Alan.

  But the requirement list gave her pause. What kind of man created relationship rules?

  Not that the rules were terrible. In fact, several were inviting, reassuring even.

  Consider rule one, for example. Clearly, the man loved kids, at least his own. She loved kids, too. Unless his daughter was a monster, AnnaLeigh could love her. Or fake it. She’d learned to fake a lot of things in her days in foster care.

  Rule two, on the other hand, gave her trouble. She wasn’t a Christian, didn’t know the first thing about loving Jesus. She wasn’t necessarily opposed to the
concept, and she was glad the rancher was a Christian. In her foster care experience, most Christian families were kind. So, she could fake that too. Truth was, she’d agree to love Jesus or brussels sprouts or about anything if doing so would protect her baby.

  Moving on to rule number three, AnnaLeigh stuttered. Make no demands on him or on his money. The cowboy didn’t need to worry about her wanting anything from him…personally or romantically. Alan’s…forcefulness had erased any fantasy she’d ever had about romantic love.

  But what about the money rule? The cowboy promised to provide for a wife, but would he agree to care for a baby, too?

  A teeny worry-hammer started whacking against her temples.

  Once this cowboy learned of the pregnancy, he’d turn her down flat, click her profile into the trash bin. She’d be right back where she’d started—with Alan breathing down her neck.

  Besides, marrying a stranger could be every bit as dangerous as going back to Alan, even if the stranger claimed to be a Christian who obviously loved his child. She had no way of knowing if he told the truth.

  Other choices, however, weren’t exactly banging on the front door.

  Alan could be—would be—if she didn’t do something quickly.

  Moving to another town or even another state wasn’t the answer. If she left Refuge, she’d have to keep moving forever. With the pregnancy, she simply did not have the energy to keep running. Her baby deserved a better life than that.

  She glanced at the cowboy’s profile again. She could send him a message, ask for more information.

  Yes. That would work.

  A single, anonymous message wasn’t a commitment, nor was it dangerous. She could find out more about him, gauge the kind of man he was, and then delete her profile if he seemed creepy in any way.

  Giving herself a minute to consider, AnnaLeigh carried her cell phone into the kitchen to check on the chicken. The smell actually enticed tonight.

  What would it hurt to message the man and ask for more details?

  After a brief search to understand how this particular online dating service worked, she filled in the free registration form, careful to provide as little information as possible. Fortunately, the site required no photo and only a generalized location. Perfect.

  “Done.”

  Then, pulse pounding like a marathoner’s, she returned to the cowboy’s profile, typed in a short message and hit send.

  Feeling strangely relieved and kind of buoyed, AnnaLeigh went to the kitchen and enjoyed the first meal she’d kept down in weeks.

  4

  Holt was about as disgruntled as a man could be. What good were online dating sites if no reasonable women used them? America was a big country. Women abounded. They’d certainly been plentiful during his rodeo days. Buckle bunnies had lined up like lemmings ready to jump the cliff for a night with a cowboy. Keeping his Christian values had been tough, which could have been why he’d married Pamela so fast.

  Now, there wasn’t a willing woman in sight.

  Oh, there were plenty of trolls, women who blasted him as a jerk, a misogynist, and with a few other unchristian adjectives, but there wasn’t a decent, motherly, matrimonial-minded female in the bunch.

  Didn’t anyone want to get married these days?

  Maybe he wouldn’t even bother to check the dating site tonight. Even though his cell phone burned a hole in his pocket, he didn’t allow lollygagging on the job. Not from the hired hand. Not from himself. Talking, texting and checking messaging apps didn’t get the work done. The only time he used the cell phone at work was for business. The rest could wait until he was back at the house.

  Still, as he kicked hay out of the back of his dependable Dodge work truck to a herd of bellowing, head-butting heifers, he wondered about the dating service. Wasn’t much of a service, if you asked him. In six days he hadn’t had one legit message. Not one.

  Was it something he’d said? Did his profile scream loser? Or were there no women left on earth who wanted to raise someone else’s child?

  The last thought was like a knife in the heart. A twisty one. With a nine-inch blade.

  His precious Jacey. She’d be devastated if her prayers for a mama weren’t answered. And he wouldn’t be able to tell her he’d tried, that he’d done the best he could, because she’d asked Jesus for a mother, not him.

  “I’m doing a lousy job of finding her one, too.”

  He removed his hat and swiped a shirt sleeve across his forehead as he eyed the horizon. At the moment, it was only cool enough for a quilted vest. Tomorrow promised cold, but for now he’d worked up a sweat without Zeke. His hired hand had the flu.

  Grimacing in sympathy, he unloaded the last bale of hay, surveyed the heifers for any problems, and then headed to the house.

  He wouldn’t look at the dating website. Not tonight. It was killing his ego. Maybe tomorrow.

  But he had to turn on the computer to enter the latest health check results on his yearling bulls. No other reason.

  With Jacey playing at Ava’s until eight, now was as good a time as any to catch up on records.

  Toting a freshly made ham-and-cheese loaded with pickles, he casually booted up the computer and munched while he waited.

  Settling in, he updated the cattle records. That done, he started to shut down but paused, fingers tapping against the desk.

  He was online. Might as well look at Lovebug. “Dumb name.”

  He signed in to the dating site, expectations low. As long as Christmas hadn’t passed, though, he’d keep hoping. Maybe, like Jacey, he should pray about it, too.

  Not a bad idea.

  “Lord? Am I going about this all wrong? Or what? Should I forget the whole, goofy idea and stay single. I’d like that a lot better, but Jacey…well, You know how she is.”

  He sighed, long and loud.

  Part of him never wanted anyone suitable to reply. Another part of him was a little wounded that none had.

  As if the sigh had been all the air he had left, his breath stopped. A red dot hovered on the chat box. Blinking. Red, red, red. He had a message.

  Would this be another verbal flogging? If so, he was done. Over and out. All hope gone.

  But what if this was the one he and Jacey had been praying for? What if this tiny flashing light hid the woman of his daughter’s dreams? The woman God intended to be his wife?

  With a burst of adrenaline that tasted of dill pickle, Holt clicked the red dot.

  The note was short.

  He quickly scanned the words.

  A woman was interested. She wanted more details.

  Holt frowned at the screen. How much more detailed could he get? He wasn’t telling her about the custom-made saddle in the living room. Not yet.

  So, he wrote about his ranch and the animals he planned to market to the rodeo. Which reminded him of his life on the circuit, so he told her a little about that too, ending with, Tell me about you. Do you like horses and cows? Ever been to a rodeo?

  He finished his sandwich while he waited and, when he’d nearly given up, the computer tinged.

  Sorry. Not much time. I’m working late. My job’s in retail, and Christmas season is so busy my boss asked me to stay until seven.

  I love animals, but I’ve never owned one, and I’ve never been to a rodeo. It might be fun to attend one, though. I like the peace and quiet of the country, and I’m a decent cook. Not gourmet, but basic. I probably can agree to your “rules.” But I have to be sure that this isn’t a joke and you’re not laughing at me for being stupid enough to respond.

  Holt blinked at the message. Was that the problem? People thought he was joking?

  No joke. Cowboy’s honor. His fingers moved over the keys. My daughter is six, and she wants a mom for Christmas. She asked Jesus for one, and I don’t want her faith to be crushed. Personally, I’m not the least bit interested in romance. Platonic all the way. All I want is a good mother for my girl. He went on to explain his reasons for marriage instead of a nan
ny. Then, I’m eager to tie the knot. Name the day.

  There. No use wasting time. The worst she could do was end their chat.

  Her reply came quickly. Too quickly. Can we chat tomorrow night? I have to get back to work.

  Holt could have kicked himself.

  He’d spooked her. He should have waited a day or two to propose. But, for crying out loud, Christmas was coming!

  Sure, he typed. Tomorrow after eight when my daughter goes to bed. He’d almost typed Jacey’s name but realized complete anonymity was best for now.

  When no reply appeared on the screen, Holt ended the chat, figuring he’d never hear from the woman again.

  AnnaLeigh barely slept that night. When she finally dosed, she dreamed of cowboys and hatchet murderers that looked like Alan and sweet faced little girls, awaking in a tangle of sheets and emotions.

  Needless to say, the dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than usual as she went about her work at Rachel’s Cards and Gifts.

  Was she seriously considering a contract marriage to a total stranger?

  But even as she wrestled with the absolute insanity of the idea, she was buoyed by the conversation, however brief, with the cowboy. He hadn’t seemed threatening or scary at all.

  Now, as she prepared the long, low tables in the shop’s craft room, she tried to block out the growing anticipation for tonight’s chat. Today was Cards by Kids, a weekly event she’d come to love. The preparation and facilitation required her full attention. First graders were the cutest little people, but they were lively and needy.

  “Do you think I’ve prepared enough cards?” she asked when Rachel joined her from the front.

  While her boss manned the retail area, she’d spent most of the afternoon drawing measurements onto the card stock and preparing two different card examples for the kids to choose from. She and Rachel had discovered the class went better if the adults did the pre-work, leaving the design fulfillment to the students.

  “Should be.” Rachel pondered the two stacks on one end of the table. “But if not, we’ll make more next week. These pop-up designs in particular are really popular. They’re selling out fast.”