Worth the Price

by Delilah Hunt

  “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s the matter.”

  “Danika…” Her name careened off his lips in a warning.

  She stuck out her chin. “I mean it. I’m not budging an inch until you tell me what happened between now and yesterday. You were…different then.” Less intimidating. Kinda sweet.

  He shoved a hand through his hair and gave a stiff nod. “Come here and I’ll tell you what happened.”

  Her nipples beaded in response to the gruffness in his voice and the masculine command as she moved beside him.

  “Someone took off with five of my Black Anguses last night.”

  Danika gasped. Over the years she had heard passing references to cattle rustlers, but until now she had never heard of a single rancher in Hart’s Fall who had to deal with theft of that nature. “Did you report it to the sheriff?”

  He crushed a pebble beneath his boot. “I stopped by the department on the way here. Waste of time. Those bulls are history. They’re probably halfway to Oklahoma about to hit the auction block.”

  Outrage bristled underneath her skin. Brandon and all of the ranchers in Hart’s Fall worked long hours through the sweltering heat of summer and the blistering cold of the frigid Montana winters to keep their ranches up and running and provide employment for many who wouldn’t have any other option in such a small town. Only the lowest form of scum would resort to thievery.

  “I’m sorry for the loss,” she offered. “Hopefully the sheriff will be able to track down the criminal. Do you have any idea who it could be?”

  “No.” His tone went flat as his gaze shifted to the black pickup. “We should get going before City Hall gets crowded.”

  Danika frowned but did as he instructed. She would allow him his time to brood in silence. After they were married, all bets would be off. Brandon was going to see he didn’t have to undergo all of life’s nuances and problems alone.

  Later on, after leaving City Hall with a marriage license in hand, Brandon sat across from Danika in the small café she’d talked him into entering with her for a bite to eat. He watched her take another sip of her cola and envied the plastic straw.

  He hadn’t meant to take out his ill temper on her earlier. The discovery of the missing cattle came as a blow to him this morning after going through a routine headcount. Infuriation had quickly bulldozed the shock he’d felt. Not only that, but her question this morning, asked with such unassuming innocence had also left a bitterness churning inside his chest.

  Not for Danika, never her. The last time anyone had stolen from him, he’d been thirteen, and barely able look himself in the mirror without the disgust that was evident in the eyes of everyone else. He had returned to the dingy public housing flat he shared with his mother, after another day of searching for anyone willing to hire him on. Once inside, he’d found that every piece of furniture, crumb of food in the kitchen had been swiped cleaned. His first instinct had been to run to the box where he’d kept the money he had saved up from working at the dockyard. Without looking he’d known that the money, too, would be missing, along with his mother who had finally made good on her decade long threats of running off without a brat sniveling at her heels.

  He took a sip of his own drink, aware of the curious stares and blatant gawks from the customers inside the western styled café. Danika was also eyeing him with undisguised interest.

  “You’ve never been in here, have you?”

  He shook his head. There had never been a need nor had he relished the idea of putting himself on display to receive more attention in the simple eatery than the plates of food on the oval shaped tables. “I only come into town for supplies.”

  She leaned back in the metal chair, closing her moist lips over the straw again. “Figures.” She downed another sip of the sweetened beverage. Her dimpled cheeks rose upward as she dazzled him with another smile. “It’s a good thing I dragged you in here. Evelyn’s Café might not be five star, but the food is exquisite.” She shifted her head and Brandon followed suit, their eyes skimming the narrow rows of diners, people he assumed she had known since childhood. “Then again I suppose I can see why you’d avoid this place.”

  Brandon pushed away his glass. “I didn’t move to Hart’s Fall to make friends.”

  “Of course you didn’t. That doesn’t mean you should suffocate and deny any chances of forming friendships.” Her smile curved upward in a mischievous grin. “And a silly scar on the face shouldn’t be enough to prevent that. No matter how big it is.”

  Brandon tensed. This was the second time she had so blatantly pointed out his defect. His pride bristled at the honest insult. Then just as quickly, Brandon heard the words, spoken a mere second ago, replay in his overzealous mind. She had referred to what had to be the most defining thing about him as silly. Of all the terms he’d had the misfortune to hear or could think up for himself, silly, was nowhere on the grid.

  “Is it just a silly scar?”

  “It is. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings by bringing it up again. The last time I almost choked on having my foot so far down my mouth when you saw me outside the feedlot store. I can tell it bothers you‌—‌the looks. That’s why I had to say something. Silly was the perfect word. Everything about it is. That scar doesn’t change who you are on the inside. It’s silly that you wear that hat all the time when you go into town it’s a wonder you haven’t tripped and added a second gash to match the first. Silly also, because of grown people in Hart’s Fall who don’t know how to keep their heads straight ahead.” She ended her speech on a righteous huff then let out a lengthy sigh. Brandon grappled for something to say. Something clever or of equal importance. His sense of speech was waylaid, crushed in a bevy of emotions infused by none other than the slight girl seated before him.

  Clearing his throat, Brandon quickly changed the subject. “Who owns this place?” he asked, averting his gaze from eyes he feared could see more than he was willing to share.

  “Evelyn Sands. The woman who served us the drinks. She was a close friend of my mom’s.”

  Brandon snorted. “That explains why she looked like she wanted to spit in my drink.”

  “She’s a sweet lady. A bit of a mother hen, but sweet nonetheless. I love coming here to see her.”

  Speak of the devil. He watched as the older woman approached. She stopped at their table with a pen in hand and gifted Danika with a brilliant smile. “What do you want with the drink, sugar?”

  “Chicken salad with a dash of chopped pecans.”

  Evelyn nodded and scribbled on the small notepad inside her hand. “Sure thing. Anything else to go with that salad?” she asked, while brandishing him with a peculiar look from the corner of her eye.

  “Huckleberry Pie?”

  Evelyn lifted her pencil thin ginger eyebrows. “You mean the same pie your momma always had to tell you to slow down on before you gave yourself an awful tummy ache?

  Observing the interaction between the two women, it was easy for him to imagine Danika, a knobby-kneed kid, greedily digging into the pie. Brandon tugged back the smile that was forming on his lips.

  “The same one,” she told the older woman.

  A look of interest crossed the waitress’s face. Her eyes darted between them. “Something going on, sugar?”

  Danika bit her lip. Brandon shifted in his seat as her vision lingered on him. God help him, he knew what was coming. Silently, her eyes sought his approval. Brandon struggled to look away but found it impossible. He wanted to hear her voice the words aloud. Anticipation wrapped itself around his heart, squeezing tightly as he listened in.

  “Yes.” She reached across the table and held his hand. “Brandon and I are getting married.”

  A fork hit the ground. The metallic clatter was raucous amid the silence that befell the surrounding area. A man at the table across from them adjusted his glasses and coughed into his napkin. His female companion, mouth gaping open slapped him on the back, before she quickly retur
ned her attention to the meal in front of her.

  “We hardly see you around here, Sharpe. Don’t tell me you’re gonna drag Sheri’s little girl off to your ranch on the other side of the Rockies.” Evelyn pinned him with a suspicious glare.

  “Where else would I live? Brandon’s ranch is gorgeous. And you’re exaggerating. If you’ve ever driven by you’d know the Bar S isn’t on the other side of the mountains, and you would also know how well Brandon and his workers maintain it.”

  “I’ve seen the place. Still way too far out if you ask me.” She spun her attention to him. “Are you going to keep Dani under lock and key or are us regular folks allowed on the ranch to visit her?”

  Brandon clenched his teeth. “Seeing as how the ranch will also belong to my wife, Danika will have free run of the place to invite anyone she wishes.” Everyone except Prescott, that is.

  Lauding him with another once-over, Evelyn jotted down his order, tucked the pen behind her ear then returned to the kitchen.

  “Am I going to have visitors lined up outside my door and leading to the pastures?”

  The smile eased from her lips. “I don’t have a lot of friends. The few that I do have, if you’d rather they didn’t—”

  “It’s fine, Danika,” he cut in, embarrassed that his puny attempt at humor went above her head. “The Bar S will be your home too.”

  “I know it will be. I just wanted you to know there are only a handful of people I call friend.”

  None of which included him, Brandon reminded himself. “Are you fine with the date?” he asked, feeling churlish.

  “For the ceremony? Yes. My friend Zoe is on a break from modeling, so she’ll be with us to bear witness. I actually thought about calling my father again to ask if he would come but…” Her voice hung in the air as they both knew the outcome of that‌—‌Prescott ending up in the Emergency Room with a stroke.

  A smile formed at the edge of his lips at the thought. Brandon wrangled it in before it could take shape. He had to admit that seeing the old man harmed left a sour taste in his mouth, mostly for Danika’s sake. “He’ll come around soon enough.”

  “I hope you’re right.” The shadow lifted from her eyes. Danika sharpened her focus on him. “Did you invite anyone? We’ve never discussed it before. Do you have family in the state?”

  “You want to know if I have any family?” Brandon repeated, unease burrowing into his stomach.

  “I would love to know.”

  “Don’t expect any visits. All of my kin are in Ireland as far as I know. You should be glad you won’t ever have the misfortune to meet any of them.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Brandon sighed. It was clear her issues with Prescott weighed heavily on her shoulders. “This rift between you and your da, don’t let it get to you. Prescott cares about you and that’s what has him acting like a maniac. Not me.” Then in a thoughtless attempt to lighten her mood, he murmured. “Be lucky your old man never used you as a punching bag.”

  Her mouth rounded out in shock before he realized his error.

  “Brandon…”

  He lowered his head. “Forget it.”

  “But…” Her fingers stretched toward his on the table.

  He ignored her plea. “I mean it, Danika. That’s something we are never going to discuss.”

  Worth the Price

  For Danika, the next three days passed by in a whirlwind. Each day rolled into the next as she hopped in and out of her favorite stores, determined to find the perfect dress. Six stores later, Danika was ready to drop to the floor and thank the Lord her nuptials were being said in a simple ceremony and her search was not limited to a pristine white dress. Fortunately, with the help of Zoe she was able to settle on a rich, deep wine colored dress, with a plunging neckline and open back that met at the base of her spine. In essence, a dress she envisioned would mesmerize Brandon.

  She twirled in front of Zoe’s full-length mirror, giving herself a quick once over. Patting her bottom, she felt heat suffuse her cheeks at the amount of skin the satin fabric exposed.

  “How do I look?”

  Zoe grabbed both of their purses from the dresser. “Fabulous. Like a woman who doesn’t want to keep her man waiting.”

  It took all of fifteen minutes to arrive at City Hall. Not wanting to head inside without Brandon, she insisted to Zoe that they wait outside in the parking lot. She’d figured she would arrive earlier than him, but when ten minutes passed by without any sign of Brandon’s truck in the almost empty parking lot, her anxiety level took a steep climb upward.

  Danika shot her friend a worried glance, wondering if Zoe was drawing upon the same conclusion that tinkered in her mind.

  “He’ll be here, Dani. Don’t fret.”

  Another five minutes went by with no sign of Brandon. Embarrassment and confusion began their skillful assault on her fragile ego. Danika frowned. If Brandon had decided against going through with the marriage-slash-arrangement, why didn’t he have the guts to tell her last night instead of having her make a fool of herself, standing outside a courthouse in the afternoon, glammed up for a nonexistent groom.

  She was midway into retrieving her cell phone when a sleek, white stretched limousine braked at the curb next to her and Zoe. A tinted window smoothly rolled down.

  “Ms. Danika Prescott?”

  She exchanged a befuddled look with Zoe before answering with a drawn out, “Yes. Should I know you?”

  The uniformed driver relaxed his hand around the steering wheel. “No, ma’am. But I do have a note here for you from Mr. Sharpe.”

  “Brandon?” Brows arched, she unfolded the stationary handed to her. Her eyes scanned the note written in the same harried handwriting Brandon had used to fill out the documents for their marriage license.

  She shook her head and smiled. Relief melted her worries faster than a popsicle in the dry summer’s heat.

  “Should I open the doors, ma’am?”

  “Yes. Definitely”

  “Did Brandon send this for us? I’m confused,” Zoe grabbed her hand, halting her steps to the limousine.

  “It’s okay. There’s been a change of plans. Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I have no idea,” Danika confessed, a broad smile etched onto her face.

  Zoe eyed her with suspicion then climbed into the seat next to her. The chauffeur closed the door and raced around to his seat at the steering wheel. A few traffic turns into the ride and Danika was positive of the destination.

  The level landscape bowed into a dense greenery of rolling hills, and fresh sage-colored grass, possibly the envy of every rancher in the county. Soon the low-hanging metal circle with the words, “Bar S” engraved like a brand came into view and disappeared as the limo drove on. The day’s excitement accelerated into a tangle of nerves.

  A fleeting image of her father scurried through her mind. This was her wedding day and not once as a young girl had she pictured it without him by her side. Danika blew out a breath and shifted her thoughts as the vehicle slowed to a polished stop.

  After exiting, she literally felt the breath she had been holding lodge inside her throat. This was the Bar S, as sure as the cattle she had seen grazing off on the distant prairie. The bends and turns the driver had taken were never a part of her route when driving past the ranch. It was no wonder this vibrant secluded meadow had yet to grace her eyesight. The field, in full bloom, was a kaleidoscope of colors. Glacier lilies reflecting the sunlight tumbled onto patches of pink-tipped larkspur and geranium, the same shade of purple as the sunset she knew would arrive within hours above the blue, snowcapped Rocky Mountains that bordered the meadow.

  Her chest rose on a deep breath at the sight of the makeshift chapel situated a few yards ahead. Her hands trembled as she took in every detail of the simple yet heavenly scene. Even the sight of the ranch hands seated in the folding chairs made her heart flip. Brandon did care about this day as much as she did.

  Brand
on. His name alone infused her blood with warmth. Danika turned to look at the enigmatic man she had chosen to become involved with. The one person she’d made it a point to avoid making eye contact with upon her arrival. He was wearing a stylish pair of relaxed black jeans with boots that looked like they were newly bought. On top, he wore a long-sleeved white shirt, smoothed over with a russet colored button-down vest. Deep in conversation with a thin gray-haired man she had seen in town a few times before, Brandon’s eyes held hers in a lingering gaze. Danika flushed. She realized he had been watching her all along. He stopped in mid-sentence of speaking with his companion and advanced toward her.

  “And that’s my cue to leave.”

  Danika nodded although Zoe’s words barely registered in her head. Of their own accord, her feet began to eat away the distance between her and Brandon. Dear God, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “Hey.” His pitch was low and velvety, yet tethered with uncertainty.

  She ironed out an invisible wrinkle at the front of her dress. “I’m probably the only bride who’s relieved to see her groom isn’t wearing a tuxedo.”

  “I’ll give you a better wedding one day.”

  Better? Instead of the simple recitation of vows she had expected at the courthouse, he had gifted her with a serene outdoors ceremony.

  Danika pressed her lips to the chiseled frame of his cheek. “It’s perfect. More than I ever expected. Thank you.”

  Beneath the gleam of his fixed stare, Danika felt her breath quicken in response to his proximity.

  “I’m glad you approve.” His thumb brushed the spot she had kissed.

  She took a step back and darted her gaze elsewhere. Anywhere but Brandon who was making her entire body thrum and her heart pulse at what had to be a dangerous rate for an inexperience woman. Danika craned her neck, recognizing the local pastor of the Baptist church she’d attended as a child, before her mother’s death.

  “I promised to go to church every Sunday,” Brandon said, tilting his head in the direction of the pastor.