The Rancher Takes a Cowgirl

by Misty M. Beller

  Tears burned her throat and eyes, but she braced both hands on the rail and forced the moisture back. It’d been almost a relief to flee the ranch after living a month alone with her step-mother. Without Papa to temper the woman’s greed and sharp tongue, she’d been impossible.

  Coming here to the Double Rocking B had been like finding home again. And Monty. She’d never felt so alive as when he was near. Yet the shadow had still hovered over everything that was good. Fear that Leonard would find her—a shadow that sucked the edge of joy.

  Could it really be over? What had Monty said yesterday as they rode through the woods? God has this under control. The hard part is in the trusting.

  She stared up into the dark, cloudless sky. God was there, she didn’t doubt it. But could she trust that he had Leonard’s fate under control? Her fate?

  The rail took her weight as her knees started to give way. If she trusted God with the diamond—her birthright—did that mean she had to trust him with every other part of her life, too? Could she?

  He’s proven Himself so many times. Her mind drifted back through the events of the last year. The twelve months that had seemed like the disintegration of her life. Yet the picture formed differently this time. Had God been directing the events to bring her here to this ranch? This little slice of heaven? And Monty?

  A movement rustled on the path, and she tensed, ducking behind a porch support. Not that the four inch post would hide much of her.

  “Grace?” Monty’s voice, gentle as it drifted through the night.

  Her muscles relaxed, and she clutched the column to keep from sinking to her knees. Where had all her strength gone? “Monty.”

  His boots clicked softly as he mounted the wooden steps, his outline slowly forming from the blackness. “Can’t sleep?” His deep tenor washed over her like a warm blanket in the coolness.

  “Not yet. You either?” She could see parts of his face now, although much remained steeped in shadow. It couldn’t hide his gentle strength, though.

  “Thought I’d take one more look around before I bed down.” He came to rest beside her. Less than a foot away—close enough for her body to crave his touch. She didn’t close the gap, though. “What’s on your mind?”

  She forced her thoughts to focus on what had occupied her so thoroughly just minutes before. “I was thinking about what you said on the trail, about God having a plan through all of this.”

  How could she put into words the turmoil in her heart? The desire to trust, yet the fear of it. “I think I can see it. It’s just…harder to trust when I can’t see everything that’s to come.”

  “It wouldn’t be trust if you could see it.”

  She turned to look at him, a warm smile spreading through her chest. He had such an easy way of stating the truth. A clear perspective. “I want to trust, Monty. I’m ready. I think.”

  He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close so her head rested on his shoulder. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

  Her mouth pulled as she fought the grin. “The day’s still young.”

  They stayed like that for a while, her head resting against him, their heartbeats melding into one. She’d never felt so…at peace.

  The blush of dawn touched the eastern horizon, filtering a dusky magic over the ranch yard. She finally pulled back and scanned his face. “So where do I go from here?”

  He kept one hand at her waist, but the other came up, fingers brushing her cheek. “No matter what, God has you tucked in his hand. And I have a strong feeling that he brought you here for a reason. For me, Grace.” His thumb stroked her jaw, and the breath stopped filling her lungs. What was he saying? “Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

  The words took several seconds to register, like a fog had infiltrated her mind. His wife? Sweet heaven. But did he know what he was asking? This was Monty, man above men. Could he really want to tie himself to her?

  His face seemed earnest, but she had to ask anyway. “Are you sure, Monty? You would want to marry a woman who wears trousers and works like a man? I’m not sure I could ever be a normal housewife. Not the woman you deserve.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted. “You’re the woman I’ve dreamed about for months now. Since the first day we met. I didn’t even realize the kind of woman I wanted until God brought you to me. Whether you wear trousers or not is your choice.” His thumb touched the corner of her mouth, sending a skitter all the way through her. “I like the idea of you working alongside me, but only if you want to.”

  The warmth in her chest spread through every part of her, expanding her heart so it was impossible to hold back a smile. “I’d like to, Monty. Although it might be harder after children start to come.”

  His face slackened for just a moment, as though the fog had crept into his brain too. Then his dark eyes glistened in the dawning light. “I like the idea of children.”

  Without another word, he lowered his mouth to hers, finishing the thought with a promise as old as time.

  ~ ~ ~

  MONTY DRAGGED OPEN his scratchy eyes as a yawn took over his entire face. Daylight filtered through the muddle in his mind, and he sat up straight. He’d overslept.

  But then the events of the last couple days crashed over him, pressing him back down to the pillow. What a whirlwind it’d been. Ending with…

  The memory of Grace’s words and that kiss took over, pressing it all aside. She’d said yes. God be praised.

  They’d not talked about the details yet. As soon as the others had started stirring, he’d sent her straight to bed.

  How soon could they set a date? Maybe he could talk her into having the ceremony this Sunday. He’d go get the preacher today if she’d agree, but she probably wanted a church wedding. Or did she? He should know better by now than to try to think for Grace Harper. Or Hampstead, rather.

  No matter. Soon enough she’d be Grace Dominguez. His wife.

  Pushing up from the bed, Monty scanned the bunkhouse, reality sinking in like a bucket of cold water. They couldn’t be married yet. He had no house to bring her to. That cottage he’d dreamed about in the next clearing over would have to become a reality now. And soon.

  But that would take weeks. Months.

  His head dropped into his hands and he pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. “Lord, you’re killing me.”

  The old bunkhouse on the other side of the barn flickered through his mind, but that was no place to bring a bride. Just one open room with a cook stove at one end. Stark as a newborn bunny. Even with the holes in the roof patched, there wasn’t a chance he’d bring Grace into that shack—no matter if it moved the wedding up by a couple months.

  Pulling on his boots, Monty stood and splashed water on his face from the tin washbowl. Donato had told him not to go out with the others to the cattle today, but it was time to see what needed doing at the main house.

  There was the usual bustle of activity through the front rooms. Anna rocked the baby in the parlor while Jacob played some kind of marble game with Emmaline. The child jumped up when Monty stopped in the doorway and she flew into his legs with a squeal.

  Jacob rose a bit more slowly, old man that he was becoming, and strode toward them with a tired grin. “Thought you were gonna sleep ‘til dinner.”

  Monty glanced at the parlor window, but couldn’t get a read on the time of day. “You already eat lunch?”

  “A couple hours ago. But you’re not the only one. Grace hasn’t stirred yet either.”

  Monty’s chest did a little flip at her name, but he did his best not to let it show on his face. He glanced past Jacob to examine Anna. “You feelin’ all right today?”

  Anna’s head lolled against the back of the rocker and she gave him a soft smile, the sleeping baby cuddled against her shoulder. “Thankful.”

  A lump filled Monty’s throat and he had to swallow hard to push it down. “All of us.”

  “You should see my new kitchen. The b
oys are doing quite a job on it.”

  Monty turned to Jacob, raising his brows. He knew Santiago fixed the stove last night, but figured it’d take a bit before they could repair the damage to the wall and work counter.

  A little hand gripped Monty’s and pulled. “Come see, Uncle Monty.”

  Jacob nodded that direction, so Monty allowed Emmaline to pull him down the hall. His gaze wandered up the stairs as they passed, but all seemed quiet up there. Grace must be exhausted for sure if she could sleep through all this clamor.

  Male voices drifted from the kitchen as they neared the doorway. Emmaline tugged harder, hopping and skipping as she entered the room. “See, Uncle Monty? I got to help paint the wall.”

  As Monty took in the scene, Santiago and Carlos paused in their work to watch him. Each man held the end of a shelf, and Santiago also gripped a hammer in his right hand and a nail between his teeth. The wall behind the shelf, which had been covered in crumbling ash yesterday, now shone a bright whitewash. The stove fit neatly in its original position, as if it had never been dislodged by two terrified women. How had they accomplished so much just today?

  “The new counter’s finished outside, but the paint’s still drying on the legs.” Santiago had removed the nail from his mouth to speak. “Mama Sarita said it would be nice to have more shelves, so that’s what we’re building now.” The one they held had curved endbells fitted on either side, shaped almost like a scroll.

  Monty raised a brow at his cousin. He’d known the man dabbled in carpentry back in Mexico, but hadn’t seen him produce anything in years. “Nice job.”

  “Do you want a gingersnap, Uncle Monty? Mama let us all have them after lunch, but we saved some for you and Miss Grace.” Emmaline ran to the pantry and pulled a cookie from under a cloth.

  “Thanks, little bit.” He tousled her hair and slipped half the cookie in his mouth. The moment the spicy flavor hit his tongue, his stomach took the opportunity to remind him he hadn’t eaten since the sandwiches Mama Sarita set out for them last night.

  Jacob’s chuckle drifted from behind him. “There’s probably something in there that’ll stick to your ribs, too.”

  Monty eyed the pantry shelves, then glanced at his friend. “You have a minute to talk while I eat?”

  Ten minutes later, Monty sat at the massive pecan-wood table in the dining room, thick slices of ham and tomatoes piled on sourdough bread before him.

  Jacob perched to his left in Donato’s usual chair, arms extended across the table. “So what’s on your mind?” Just like Jacob to get right to the point.

  Monty fit his mouth around the oversize sandwich and savored the bite while his friend waited. A little patience never hurt anyone. And how exactly should he share the news? Just come out and say he’d be marrying Grace, or work up to the topic? Straightforward was usually best with Jacob O’Brien.

  He swallowed the last of his bite and glanced at his friend. “I asked Grace to marry me this morning.”

  Jacob took in the news with raised brows arched over wide blue eyes. Then with a hoot, he slapped the table. “Well it’s about time, old man. I’m assuming she said yes?”

  Monty only responded with his own raised brow, although truth be told, he’d been a little worried about Grace’s answer himself. He hadn’t really meant to ask that particular question before she’d had a chance to recover from the ordeal with her step-brother. But standing there in the dawning light, it had seemed like the right time. Especially after she’d shared about her faith and wondering what her next steps should be.

  A slap on the shoulder brought Monty back to the present—and Jacob’s wide grin. “So what’s your plan for a house? You wanna build here by us? Or the next clearing over?”

  Even though he’d expected as much from Jacob, a bit of tension left his muscles at the automatic way his friend assumed he’d be sticking around. Putting down even deeper roots in this ranch that was already part of his soul.

  “I was thinking the next clearing over if you don’t mind. I’d like to take Grace to look at it when she feels better.”

  “Definitely get the woman’s opinion.” Jacob gave him a droll look. “If you’ve learned that trick, you’ll live a long and happy life. Wherever you guys decide, just let me know and I’ll deed you the acreage around it.”

  A ray of warmth seeped into Monty’s chest. Deed the land? He’d hoped only for the chance to erect his own house on the O’Brien property. Like a sharecropper. Instead Jacob was offering him permanence—a treasure to be tended and passed to future generations.

  A lump formed in his throat, and he raised his gaze to meet Jacob’s squarely. “That’d be nice.”

  Chapter Twenty

  GRACE MATCHED HER stride to Monty’s as they stepped through the tall grass at the edge of the clearing. The pinks, oranges, and blues of the sunset cast a magical tint over the land, draping it in warmth and comfort. The perfect spot for their home.

  Monty slipped his hand into hers, intertwining their fingers and pulling her close.

  “It’s perfect, Monty. Absolutely perfect.”

  “You like it? I was thinking maybe the house could go there, facing the trail. Maybe a shed off to the side for wood and such. Or a barn if you’d rather.”

  She pulled to a stop in the middle of the area where the house would sit, then motioned toward the eastern corner. “It’d be nice to put the kitchen here were we can watch the sun rise over coffee in the mornings.” Glancing his way, she caught his gaze. A warm, fluttery feeling glided up her chest.

  “A couple of the boys have offered to help build in the evenings. I’ll go to town for a load of wood on Saturday, but we can start felling trees before then. I’m thinking we can probably have it dried in with a bit of furniture in a couple months.” He turned her toward him, slipping his hands around her waist. “I hate to wait so long, but we’ll be working as hard as we can to finish sooner.”

  She searched his face. He was concerned about something, but what? “Will it be all right for us to stay at the main house until then?”

  A line formed across his forehead. “You mean stay the way things are?” Confusion muddied his gaze. “I’d rather not, but don’t see much other choice.”

  Something about his words didn’t quite ring clear in her mind. “The way things are? You mean not have the wedding?” Surely he wasn’t saying he didn’t want to marry her.

  He cocked his head and studied her for a moment, then his brows shot up. “You mean we get married now and stay at the main house until this one’s ready?”

  What had he been thinking? That they wouldn’t marry until after the house was built? Heat flared into her face. Land sakes, he must think her a hussy. Or at the very least, desperate.

  He threw his head back and let loose a chuckle, and Grace tried to pull away. He didn’t relax his grip at her waist, but instead pulled her closer as he lowered his forehead to hers. “I like your idea better. I kinda wanted to have a home ready to bring my bride to. But if it doesn’t bother you, I won’t complain.”

  The warmth of his nearness had its usual effect on her heart, pushing it into a steady gallop. “I’m just going to let you handle the details from here on out.”

  Another deep chuckle resonated from his chest. “We’re in this together.”

  ~ ~ ~

  MONTY SCANNED THE room, taking in the cleaned-up bunch of cowpunchers packed into the front parlor of the Double Rocking B’s ranch house.

  Soon, this wouldn’t be the only home on the ranch, just the big house. And having Grace tucked away in their little cottage would be all right with him.

  Bo’s son, Paul, squirmed in his mother’s grip, and Bo scooped up the lad.

  Not that Monty could blame the boy. He fought his own urge to squirm. Maybe pull one end of his string tie and loosen the chokehold. What was taking the women so long?

  A throat cleared behind him and Monty glanced over at Jacob’s raised brow. A grin tugged at his friend’s mouth, but the
look only sent an extra shot of nerves into Monty’s gut. It was finally happening.

  His wedding.

  Even though the men were packed like cattle in a loading pen, it seemed right to hold the ceremony here in the parlor. The place he’d first met Grace.

  It’d been her idea. Even though she’d come to church and town with him these last couple weeks, this was where she felt most at home.

  A rustle near the door caught his attention, as Mama Sarita slipped into the room. A sliver of anticipation wriggled through his chest, and Monty clasped his hands behind his back to keep them from fidgeting.

  Anna appeared next and gave him a sly smile before she stepped across the room to stand beside the place reserved for Grace. But where was his bride?

  After staring through the doorway to the empty hall for several moments, the knot in his stomach tightened and he shot a look at Anna. She, too, stared toward the opening. But she didn’t look worried. That had to mean everything was all right. Didn’t it?

  And then, like a ray of pale blue sunshine, Grace stepped into the room. The entire place lit as if she brought the daylight with her. She wore the blue gown he loved, but something about it seemed different. A bit fancier maybe. With her hair piled up in curls and lace, it accentuated the delicate strength of her face. And her long slender neck.

  And those eyes.

  Lord have mercy, those eyes spoke to him like nothing else. And just now they were fastened on him with a look that warmed him clear to his toes. Her mouth held a soft smile as she drew close.

  She stopped just feet away, and he reached for her hand. They should turn and face the minister, but he couldn’t quite pull his gaze from her. Not yet.

  When she squeezed his hand, he squeezed back and did his best to hold in the giddy grin that took hold in his chest.