Love on the Ranch

by Ciara Knight

  Love on the Ranch

  Ciara Knight

  Defy the Dark Publishing LLC

  Love on the Ranch

  Book IV

  McKinnie Mail Order Brides Series

  Copyright ©2018 by Ciara Knight

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art ©2018 by Yocla Designs

  Edited by Stephen Morgan

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Reader Letter

  Also by Ciara Knight

  Prologue

  Elizabeth McKinnie scanned her family’s once glorious plantation, which surrounded a beautiful home that had crumbled in only a few years. Crumbled to grey, ash-colored rubble that littered scorched land, scorched memories, scorched hope. Hope that now came in the form of a letter that promised to change her life forever. But did she trust the four scribbled words written by a stranger?

  Come be my wife.

  Elizabeth crumpled the note tight in her palm. All seven sisters had agreed to accept mail-order bride proposals to escape destitution after the Civil War. But now that she faced leaving them to travel on a long journey to reach her own betrothed in Seattle, nervous twitches kept jolting in her belly.

  It would be worth the trip, though, if the man at the end kept his word. He’d agreed that they were to be equals in all aspects of life. She’d no longer be treated like a fragile doll with no hope of owning her own life.

  She leaned against the weathered, charred front-porch pole and watched the hillside for her sister Francine’s return, but her frayed, sunflower-colored bonnet didn’t crest the hill. If she didn’t hurry, she’d miss her ride to the train station to her own betrothed—a rich cattle baron. A perfect match for Francine, who was the nurturer and desired a husband and children above all.

  Light footsteps padded up behind Elizabeth. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Cora. There were only three of her six sisters left in their burned-out house. “Where’s Francine?”

  “Don’t worry about her. You need to worry about yourself.” Cora’s calloused palm brushed Elizabeth’s arm with a sisterly touch. “Even now, you worry about others instead of yourself. You are too kindhearted. I only hope that soon-to-be husband of yours will keep you from overworking.”

  Elizabeth threw her hands up, shaking off Cora’s comfort. “Stop. I’m not as fragile as you and Francine and everyone else has always judged me to be.”

  Cora grabbed Elizabeth’s arm as if needing to keep her close, but how close could they be when she’d soon be a thousand miles away? “I know you’re strong,” she said in a consolatory tone. “Strong-willed enough to fight with the boys, but as mama used to say, your body isn’t as strong as your will. It isn’t your fault that you have breathing issues, and Doctor Thompson warned that the damp climate in the Northwest might be too much for you.”

  Elizabeth pulled free from the constant mothering of her eldest remaining sister. “You should worry about your own future now,” she said in a soft, urging tone. “You’re the one that is too kindhearted. Abigail, Dinah, and Josephine are settled, married, and happy.”

  Cora’s hint of a smile showed her relief. They didn’t say the words, but they both felt it. Josephine finding happiness after that Union soldier had taken her virtue now gave the two sisters joy and hope.

  “Even if you did, we don’t have men to work it,” Cora said. “I know you think you can do it all, but you can’t. Please, go and enjoy a new life. One where you don’t have to work so hard.”

  The bitter taste of goodbye invaded her senses. “Francine and I are both leaving in a matter of minutes. Hannah is soon to find a husband, too. That leaves you. What will you do once we are all gone?”

  “I will marry also,” Cora said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she already had a betrothed waiting on her.

  Wind blew across the barren land. A chill, as if winter wanted to hold on past its season, shot through Elizabeth’s threadbare dress. How would the Northwest be next winter? Was Cora right? Would Elizabeth succumb to such a climate? No. She could handle anything that she needed. She was stronger than anyone else thought.

  Elizabeth pushed at a crooked nail in the splintered step. “Why haven’t you written to any of the many men that Miss Scarborough has mentioned to you? She has been making matches in these parts since the war ended almost a year ago.” A thought flashed like cannon fire in Elizabeth’s head, hard, fast, explosive. She spun with a pathetic swish of her deflated skirt. “Unless you’ve changed your mind. I’ll stay, we can save the—”

  “No. Stop. You know we cannot save this place.” Cora raised her hands over her ears and turned a full circle, waving at the splintered, rotted, burned wood barely providing shelter.

  Elizabeth blew out a long breath, sending a curl fluttering around her cheek. “I know.” She inhaled a new breath, and this time she swore she could smell the scent of Papa’s tobacco. “I’m glad Mama and Papa are both gone. This would have devastated them both.”

  Cora shuffled to the top step and snuggled Elizabeth into her side and gestured toward the front hillside with a wave of her hand. “Look.”

  Pops of pink peeked from the black ground at the base of the sprawling-oak-turned-dead stump. Was it a sign of new beginnings?

  “Mama and Papa would’ve wanted you to survive, not wilt away with the rest of the memories of our former life.” Cora squeezed her tight and pointed at the budding plant. “That flower is like you. Young, beautiful, and getting ready to bloom. You’ll be a wonderful wife. No one cooks or keeps a home better than you.”

  Mama’s perfume still clung to the fabric of her old dress that Cora had inherited after mama died. Elizabeth closed her eyes and imagined her mama’s arms around her, comforting her on her wedding day. “She would be proud of you.”

  “Who?” Cora asked.

  “Mama.” Elizabeth slid from Cora’s arms and walked along the remains of the front porch, ignoring her gulp of air to suppress the tears. They’d all made one promise: no more crying over loss. There wasn’t anything left to cry about. They’d already mourned their parents, their brothers, and each other.

  Elizabeth pushed a wayward curl away from her eyes, straightened her skirts, and opened the drape functioning as a front door to the house. Inside the boarded-up, bombed-out home, she stopped by her overstuffed bag. It was obvious that Cora had added food, but there was no use in arguing with her about it. At least when she left here, no one would know about her asthma, and she’d be able to hide it and work like everyone else. It had been ages since her last breathing attack.

  If only her sisters would have listened to her they could’ve remained at home, together. Mammy had taught Elizabeth everything about plants. They could’ve harvested medicinal plants, rare flowers, and herbs on tiny swatch
es of healthy land to sell in Atlanta. They didn’t need to plant crops to sell at market. They could’ve rebuilt their home. Although smaller and simpler, it would’ve kept them together. Next time, she wouldn’t let anyone take her home away.

  A tightness pulled her chest inward as if reminding her of the last breathing episode that nearly claimed her life. But she knew the pain inside her had less to do with her body and more to do with accepting further loss. The loss of her sisters. At least they had a chance beyond this war-torn home that once stood as a beacon to all that loved the South. Their home had been the envy of all in Marietta, if not all of Atlanta.

  “Hannah,” Elizabeth called out, but she didn’t respond. There wasn’t far she could go with only three rooms left of the twenty-plus-room mansion.

  “She isn’t here,” Cora said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Elizabeth sighed. “I guess she didn’t want to say goodbye after all. I can’t blame her. Not after my episode at Dinah’s departure.”

  “You are too hard on yourself. She made a promise that you’d stay together, and you had a right to believe that. But I am happy you decided to accept your own betrothed after she departed.”

  The neighing of a horse in the distance told her that Miss Scarborough’s transportation to the railroad station wasn’t too far. “No, I didn’t. But that is beside the point. Right now, we need to get Francine home before she misses our ride.”

  “You don’t need to worry about Francine. She’s already on her way.” Cora closed her eyes and pushed her shoulders back as if preparing for a battle.

  “What do you mean she’s already gone? Her train leaves after mine. Her cattle-baron betrothed handled all the expense.” Elizabeth didn’t even know his name, only that he was rich and would be able to provide for Francine in a way she deserved, even if it meant she had to agree to have lots of babies for him.

  “Actually, you have the later train departure.” Cora removed a white piece of paper from her apron and handed it to Elizabeth. “You’ll understand after you read this.”

  Elizabeth took the note with shaking hands. She immediately knew it was in Francine’s perfect script.

  Dear Sister,

  * * *

  I knew you’d never agree to this, so I’ve been forced to lie. I only hope someday you will forgive me. We are your sisters and we only want to protect and love you, even when we can’t be together. Even if you don’t want to admit it, we all know that you can’t live in the Northwest. You can’t work in a logging camp with damp earth and cold. I’ve taken the liberty to speak with Miss Scarborough and she has agreed that we are to switch. The men have been informed of the change. Now, you can live with a rich husband who will care for you. You’ll not have to suffer any longer, and you can live and breathe fresh air without worrying about illness. Doctor Thomason said the drier climate is good for the lungs, so Texas will be perfect for you.

  Please know that I do this out of love, and I hope you will forgive me someday.

  * * *

  Your loving sister,

  Francine

  “No, no, no. She can’t do this. I’m going to the logging camp.”

  Cora lifted the bag and shoved it into Elizabeth’s hands. “It’s done. There is nothing you can do to change this, now go. Enjoy life, you don’t have to suffer forever. Stop hating yourself for not being able to save this place. It wouldn’t matter if you could work the land or not. But you can honor our family by living a long and healthy life.”

  Elizabeth crumbled the note and shoved it in her pocket next to the only words she had from her ex-betrothed. Now, she was headed to the type of man she didn’t want. A man who would treat her like his baby factory and never accept her as a partner in his life. She marched outside with Cora on her heels.

  Cora nudged her toward the front porch steps.

  The carriage bounced on the rugged terrain. A bonnet bobbed, and the driver bounced with the pits remaining from the cannon balls that had pummeled the Earth. The thunderous sounds still echoed in Elizabeth’s memory.

  “There is a dress inside. After what happened to Dinah, falling into the river muck, forced to meet her betrothed with a torn, stained, and covered in mud dress, I think it best that you put it on when you reach the last stop before you arrive at your destination.”

  For the briefest of moments, the vision of Dinah facedown in the mud lightened her mood, but the minute the wagon, driven by a couple from town, pulled to a stop, she swallowed a great oak-sized lump of grief.

  There had to be another way. She didn’t want the rich cattleman. The one man that would only treat her like a sick child by pampering and spoiling her. That was Francine’s dream, not hers. She wanted to be a life partner. A woman that could hold her own in a man’s world and worked alongside her husband. Like the man from the logging community had agreed to in his brief letter.

  Domestic skills hadn’t saved her mama when the union soldiers came. Elizabeth needed to be a person who would never allow men to burn her home, kill their animals, and harm her family ever again. She’d prove to this man that she was worth more than having babies and keeping house. She would be his equal.

  Chapter One

  Elizabeth leaned back into the tub of hot water. It had cost her the last bit of money she’d brought with her, but it was worth it. She inhaled the lilac and honey-scented oil that the innkeeper had poured into the bathwater.

  “We need to leave now,” a man shouted outside the window. She ignored him since the voice didn’t sound like any of the passengers she’d grown to care for on their long journey from the train station. Brian McDaniel, a man headed to Texas for a new business venture, Susan and Charles Herbert, a nice elderly couple who made her think love truly existed in life, William, a kindly old man who kept her going on the journey, and Bill, the driver.

  She forced the man’s urgent words away from her consciousness and did nothing to hasten her leave of the tiny moment of bliss after a multi-week rail, voyage, and stagecoach journey.

  The cooling water loosened the itchy road debris that had cemented to her skin. Dinah would be aghast to see Elizabeth’s soiled, unladylike complexion. Freckles dotted her arm from riding with the sun beating down through the stagecoach window. Not that she’d complain since sitting with the air was much better than cramped in the middle between two people.

  “Miss McKinnie, you need help donning that pretty gown of yours?” the innkeeper, Cindy, asked through the door.

  Elizabeth eyed the lavender gown that was fit for a cattle baron’s wife. It was more than she needed, or wanted, but still necessary. She’d have to behave like a well-bred lady before she married, and then she’d gradually nudge him into a real partnership. “Yes, please. Give me a minute.”

  “I think you best hurry, though,” Cindy said. “A man is insisting that the wagon leave you behind if you don’t return soon.”

  With a long sigh, Elizabeth rose, allowing the water to cascade down her body and drip into the tub beneath her. She eyed the clock on the mantel above the fireplace. “I still have time before we are due.”

  “Technically, yes, but this is Jeb Clayton and you don’t want to mess with him. He is powerful around these parts. Threatened to buy the stagecoach company and fire the driver when you reach Sherman.”

  Elizabeth shook off the excess water and grabbed the sack cloth to finish drying. “Sounds like a man who needs to boast to feel right about himself. I’ve met a few of those in my life.” She donned her linen undergarments. “You can come in.” She pressed the corset to her middle and waited for Cindy to lace her up.

  Cindy whistled, a sound that sounded more like a drunken soldier than a woman running an Inn. “Wow, that is a mighty fine dress you got there. That new husband of yours is going to be rushing you to the alter.”

  A yank on the ties caused Elizabeth to stumble back.

  “Hold on to that mantel. Gotta synch you up tight for that dress,” Cindy said in a playful tone.

  Eliz
abeth’s spine popped under the pressure. It had been years since she wore a corset, favoring her brother’s pants over a real dress. Dinah had swooned the first time she’d caught her in the garden dressed like a man.

  “Suck it in. Let’s show off that pretty waist of yours.”

  Ugh, luring a husband was harder work than tilling a dead field and turning it into growing food. Impossible. That’s what this was.

  When the strings were tied, the corset gave a smidgen, but still, she labored to breathe until she managed to twist and inch the corset slightly lower to adjust to the pressure. The soft, fresh-smelling dress fabric cascaded over her head.

  “That woman can be left behind,” the deep voice of Jeb Clayton grumbled outside. “I have business I need to attend to. She can take the next stagecoach.”

  “Sir, you ain’t even going to fit on this stagecoach,” Billy said with his firm but boyish voice.

  “I will ride because the stagecoach I was on broke a wheel and crashed. I’m lucky to be alive,” Clayton said, his voice rising over the neighing horses.

  “Lucky for you, not us,” Elizabeth mumbled under her breath.

  Cindy chuckled. “He’s been going on like that since you arrived. Best not delay any longer.”

  Elizabeth huffed. “Men like that make me want to be a spinster.”

  “Hush now, a beautiful girl like you don’t have to work your fingers until they don’t work no more.” Cindy fluffed out the skirts of the new dress and turned Elizabeth to face her. “Now, you get to that cattleman and get hitched.”