by Liz Isaacson
Still, if he trained the horses to be champions, carrying their riders to victory in barrel racing or team roping, he’d more than triple his investment.
“Maybe I will get them both.”
“Can you rename a horse?” Megan extracted herself from his arms and slipped her fingers into his.
“I suppose,” he said. “Why?”
“I don’t like the name Million Dollar Man. Seems like a lot of pressure.” She peered up at him. “A lot to live up to. Don’t you think?”
He blinked at her, trying to decide if she was kidding or not. A smirk played with her lips, and Landon chuckled. “It certainly does.”
Later that night, with Megan’s rental car returned and her luggage in a nearby hotel room, Landon felt like he could conquer the world. “And…done.” He pushed away from the desk. “Your flight is confirmed. We fly out at three.” He leaned back. “That’ll put us back at Brush Creek close to dark, but you’ll still be able to get the general idea of the place. Especially the house.”
“And you don’t think it’s improper for me to stay with you?” Megan sat in the armchair in the corner, her legs tucked under her body. “There isn’t a hotel in town?”
“I didn’t see one.” He’d driven around the whole town and hadn’t noticed a hotel. “But, you know, Flaming Gorge is only an hour away. There will be lots of places to stay there, if you feel weird about it.” He stood, his stomach growling. “But my bedroom is on the main level, and I have a full basement. Different floors. Doors that lock. Just like here.” He extended his hand toward her. “Let’s go eat.”
Megan unleashed her questions after they’d been seated in a busy restaurant. She wanted to know who he’d hired to move his things, when he expected them to come, if she could find somewhere to rent in town. She didn’t ask him the one thing his mind couldn’t seem to release.
She didn’t ask him when they’d get married.
Finally, after the steak and seafood, the baked potatoes and almond green beans, after the waiter set a single piece of chocolate mud pie between them, Landon glanced at her. “So when do you want to marry me?”
She froze with her fork halfway to her mouth, her eyes widening. Lowering her fork, she asked, “Is that a proposal?”
He shrugged. “Well, I love you and you love me, and you’re moving to Brush Creek. Seems sort of ridiculous for you to find an apartment when I have that big old house up the canyon.”
“Ridiculous, huh?”
“So how long will it take you to plan a wedding?”
“Not that long.” She took her bite of pie, licked her lips and swirled her fork through the chocolate sauce on the plate. “I’d been planning this big to-do with Eric. But I don’t want to do anything I’d thought of then. I just want—” She looked up at him, and he cocked his head to the side, waiting, listening.
“I just want to be married in my father’s church, with that beautiful stained glass window you cleaned.”
A smile burst onto his face. “I think we can do that.”
“When can you come back to Montana?”
“You tell me when, and I’ll be there.” He enjoyed his own bite of chocolate and cookies and whipped cream. “And anything I can do to help, I will.” He cleared his throat. “You know, paying for anything, or whatever.” He honestly didn’t know what one would have to pay for to pull off a wedding, but flowers and refreshments came to mind. Maybe a photographer, announcements, a cake. He forced back a measure of panic. What had he just offered?
“I’m going to go simple,” she said. “White roses. A simple, plain cake.” She leaned forward. “How about you take care of the honeymoon? I expect to be surprised, and there’s nothing I love more than a good beach.”
He grinned at her, stole the piece of cake she was about to scoop onto her fork, and said, “Noted.”
25
Landon wasn’t sure when his red blood cells had grown barbs and started jabbing into him. Maybe somewhere over the Rocky Mountains.
He turned to Megan, sitting next to him in the rental he’d been using since his arrival in Utah. They’d landed an hour ago, and still had an hour to go until they reached Brush Creek. “What if you don’t like Brush Creek?”
And just like the last three times he’d asked her, she smiled and said, “Of course I’m going to like Brush Creek. Stop worrying.”
But he didn’t stop worrying. By the time they reached the town, Landon half-wished she’d suddenly go blind. “So this is the town,” he said. “Population: Six thousand and thirty-three. I’ve met a few people.”
“There’s a store,” she said. “Gas station. Post office. Library. Look at that park.” She turned to him, her dark eyes alight with surprise and wonder. “There’s plenty here. It’s wonderful.”
Relief cascaded through him, but the turnoff to the ranch sat just ahead. Would she be okay living ten minutes from the store, the gas station, and the library? Horseshoe Home was different than Brush Creek. That ranch—as well as Three Rivers—functioned as their own mini-communities. The cowhands lived there full-time. The administration building had a kitchen, a common area. They had entertainment in the summers, and the ranch owner’s wife brought lunch and dinner to the cowhands regularly.
Landon hadn’t wanted to leave that sense of family; that wasn’t the source of his unrest in Montana. But the fact remained that Brush Creek didn’t offer that.
But it could, he thought as he made the turn. He’d purchased the additional land surrounding the horse ranch, and he could build cowboy cabins, get a staff, expand his training facilities beyond the two or three horses he could work with. The idea grew, puffing into a full-fledged reality as he made his way up the canyon to Brush Creek Ranch.
With the windows down, the sound of gravel crunching under the tires signaled their arrival to the property. “It’s just beyond that rise.”
He crested the small hill and the house came into view. He loved the log cabin feel of the home and thought of it as more of a luxury lodge than a rustic cabin in the woods. “Oh,” he said. “And we can go visit Montana anytime you want. I still have my cabin on Bear Mountain.”
“Of course you do,” she said, her eyes fixed on the house, the yard, or the land beyond. “Landon, this place is beautiful.” She turned toward him, that sense of childlike wonder almost intoxicating. “It’s like a quaint little log cabin.”
“It ain’t that little,” he muttered, causing her to laugh. He opened the garage, entered, and came to a stop. “Okay, so—”
She leapt from the car before he could qualify that he still needed to repair the walls, and he quickly followed her. “It’s locked,” he said as she tried to muscle her way into the house. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?” He stepped next to her, one hand sweeping around her waist and pulling her close.
“I want to see the house that took you from me.” She smiled up at him though the words sliced into him.
“Megan, the house didn’t take me from you.”
“I know,” she said, her smile faltering. “God did that.”
“And then He brought you back.” He pressed his lips to hers in a momentary kiss. “I’m glad you weren’t so mad at me that you couldn’t listen to Him.”
“Me too.” She glanced at the door. “Are you going to make me wait forever?”
He chuckled as he unlocked the door, grinned as she pranced over his new reclaimed wood floors, sighed as she exclaimed over and over how beautiful the house was, the yard, the pool, the barns, the land, all of it.
But as perfect and gorgeous it all was, none of it compared to Megan.
“Okay, so Alli is bringing the flowers in the morning.” On the kitchen table in front of her, Megan had a checklist a mile long. Four weeks to plan a wedding bordered on insane, but the only thing that had taken that long was getting a proper picture of her and Landon for their announcements.
He’d taken her to Salt Lake the day after they’d arrived back in Utah and bought her an engage
ment ring. She’d found a dress the day she flew home to Montana. And since then, she called him every evening after she knew he’d be in from the barns, and he called her every morning after he knew she’d be awake.
She’d ordered flowers from a childhood friend, a wedding cake from Natalie Ringold, who was teaching cooking classes at the church, and booked the church for Labor Day weekend. Landon had flown into town the previous evening, and he was staying with his parents until the wedding tomorrow.
“And Natalie said the cake will be ready tonight,” Belle said, looking at the checklist when Megan got up to pace in her living room. “Your dress is hanging in the closet. I brought in all the trays from Gloria and Rose. The women from church will have the cookies and milk ready for the reception….” Her eyes raked down the paper.
“Megan, I think you’re ready to get married.” A warm smile accompanied the words, and the same feeling infused Megan’s muscles.
“Has he mentioned at all where he’s taking me on our honeymoon?”
Belle turned away and took another sandwich cookie from the package lying open on the kitchen counter. “I’m not the one who talks to him twice a day.”
“You know where we’re going.”
“I do not.”
“Belle.”
“You’re going to love it.” Belle finally faced her. “I should’ve married a rich man.” After a moment of stunned silence, they both burst into laughter.
The next morning, Megan woke early but stayed in bed. She allowed herself several minutes to severely miss her mother. As most little girls did, Megan had dreamt of her wedding day, and in those fantasies, her mother had always been there to straighten the skirts of her dress, tuck her curls behind her ear, and beam at her from the front pew.
Landon’s mother would be there. Karen had taken Megan under her wing the past few weeks, given much needed advice and love and acceptance.
“And she’ll be here in half an hour,” Megan told herself as she sat up in bed. If she couldn’t have her own mother, she definitely wanted Landon’s family surrounding her.
She’d barely had time to shower and pull on underclothes before she heard her front door open. “Megan,” Belle called. “It’s me and Mom.”
“I’m in the bedroom.”
Belle appeared in the doorway, having snagged the wedding dress from the hall closet where it had been waiting for a couple of weeks. “Time to get married.”
Megan turned so Belle could zip her party dress, then took the dress bag from her friend. “Let’s get over to the church, then.”
Once in the safety of the locked bride’s room, Megan let them help her into her dress, roll and pile her hair on top of her head, apply the layers of makeup. Finally, Karen embraced Megan and handed her a small bouquet containing three white roses among the green foliage.
“You are beautiful.” Karen wiped her eyes. “Landon is the luckiest man on Earth.”
“Be sure to tell him that,” Megan joked.
“Oh, I have.”
Belle turned from the crack in the door, where she’d been stationed for the past ten minutes. She bent and gathered Megan’s skirts. “Let’s go. Landon is in position.”
The drone of the organ met Megan’s ears as she stepped into the hall. Since her father was performing the ceremony and would already be at the head of the chapel, Megan slipped her hand into Landon’s father’s elbow.
“I am so happy for you,” he said as Belle and Karen slipped down the hall to the side door so they could take their seats inside.
“How’s Landon?”
“Awake at four this morning, wondering why we couldn’t get over here and get this done.” He chuckled. “He’s never been that good at waiting.”
Megan nudged him with her shoulder. “Now you tell me.”
The doors opened, and Megan cut off the giggle but kept the smile hitched in place as the organ switched to the wedding march.
It seemed as though every person in Gold Valley had come out for the wedding. Smiling faces and wet eyes looked back at her. Megan had grown in the summer she’d been home. She’d helped the church members as well as the community.
She saw the weathered lines on Gertrude Brooks’s face, saw the love shining in the woman’s eyes. She felt her mother’s presence nearby, taking every step with her until she arrived at Landon’s side. Then his father sat, and her mother’s spirit faded, and Megan looked at the man who was about to become her husband.
Nothing but adoration streamed from his eyes. He bent close, the brim of his fashionable cowboy hat bumping against her forehead. “Hey, beautiful girl.”
“Hey, cowboy.”
He wore a deep black tuxedo, the white shirt absolutely pristine. His bowtie shone like freshly fallen snow, and he somehow made a tuxedo and a cowboy hat seem perfectly reasonable together. She took a deep breath of his woodsy smell, a sense of peace infusing her with the nearness of Landon.
Her father started speaking, and Megan tightened her fingers on Landon’s as she listened to her father talk about love and family, hard times ahead and never-ending joy. She wanted all of that with Landon—the good, the bad, the hard, the easy. Because she knew that if they were together, there was nothing they couldn’t overcome.
“Yes,” she said when it was her turn, and she waited without breathing until Landon said it too.
Then her father said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Landon pulled her close with his free hand, pausing for a heartbeat before kissing her completely. Shouts and applause sounded behind them, and Megan started laughing as she broke the kiss and faced the crowd.
She lifted her bouquet to another rousing round of applause and went with Landon as he moved down the aisle. Behind her, her father announced the couple’s reception later that evening, but Megan escaped the chapel with her new husband.
He helped her into his truck, which had been decorated with the white words JUST MARRIED across the tailgate, and leaned into the door. “You still want to go up to Bear Mountain?”
“You said we could get there and back before the reception.”
“We can.”
“Then, yes. I want to go see my summer home.” She’d been teasing him about having a summer home, a winter home, and a holiday home.
“Oh, jeez.”
“And I want to know where we’re going on our honeymoon!” she called as he closed the door. He shrugged, a devilish look in his eye as he went around to the driver’s side of the truck.
He climbed in and set the truck northwest, as if heading out to Horseshoe Home Ranch. He bypassed the road that would’ve taken them up to the ranch, and kept going straight. About an hour later, he turned onto another road.
The lace along Megan’s collar had started to itch a while ago, and she couldn’t wait to change out of it. They bumped over the gravel road until he finally turned and a cabin suddenly appeared out of the woods.
“Here we are.” He sat in the idling truck, watching the cabin.
She nudged him. “Well, let’s go in. I want to get out of this dress.”
“I want that too,” he said, sliding her a heated look.
She laughed. “You have to get out first.”
He did, waiting for her, offering his hand to help her down. He twisted the doorknob and let the front door of the cabin settle open. “After you.”
She stepped into his cabin, not quite sure what to expect. A tall vase of white and red roses sat on the coffee table immediately in front of her, with a giant envelope stuck among the blooms.
“That has my name on it.” She glanced at Landon.
“That’s because it’s yours.” He nodded toward it. “Go on then. Open it.”
Her fingers fumbled over the glued down flap, and when she pulled out the cards, she realized what they were. Airplane tickets. Her eyes moved rapidly then, trying to find their destination.
“This is what you’re looking for.” Landon waved a brochure in f
ront of her face, obviously enjoying her confusion a little too much. “You didn’t even see it fall to the floor.”
She took the paper from him. “Turks and Caicos,” she read across the top. “A luxury resort….” Her eyes ran down the picture of the beautiful white sand, the impossibly deep blue water. “In the Caribbean.”
He grinned and her, and her heart swelled with love for him. “It’s perfect.”
“And I’ve booked this place for January, when it’s supposed to be frigid in Utah.” He handed her a brochure for a gorgeous beach in—
“Brazil?”
“You got your passport, right?”
“I did.”
Landon took the brochures and airplane tickets from her. “Perfect. Now I believe you said something about getting out of that dress….”
Megan laughed and threw herself into her husband’s arms. “I love you, Landon Edmunds.”
“I will love you forever,” he whispered, and Megan felt his joy, love, and adoration for her from the top of her head to the very tips of her feet. “Megan Edmunds.”
Leave a Review
Like this book?
Please leave a review for it!
Join Liz’s newsletter to stay updated with new releases, and to receive her FREE novella featuring Garth Ahlstrom, the foreman at Three Rivers Ranch! As a newsletter subscriber, you’ll get the novella FREE!
Join Liz’s newsletter here.
Sneak Peek! Between the Reins Chapter One
The barn door banged open as Gil, one of the male counselors, burst through it. “Owen, there’s a fight we need your help with.” He didn’t wait to see if Owen would come. He did. Owen Carr had the most experience with the troubled boys at Silver Creek, having worked with the at-risk boys for the past seven years, since he’d been at the part therapeutic riding center, part rehabilitation center.
