A woman in pants!

The arrival of Michael Bowen’s bride, married sight unseen by proxy, sends the rancher reeling. With her trousers, cowboy hat and rifle, she looks like a female outlaw—not the genteel lady he corresponded with for months. He’s been hoodwinked into marriage with the wrong woman!

Selina Farleigh Bowen loved Michael’s letters, even if she couldn’t read them herself. A friend read them to her, and wrote her replies—but apparently that “friend” left things out, like Michael’s dream of a wife who was nothing like her. Selina won’t change who she is, not even for the man she loves. Yet time might show Michael the true value of his unlikely wife.

“What do we do now?” Selina asked.

Her whisper, broken by tears, tugged at his heart. He hated seeing a woman cry, no matter how angry he was.

What did they do now?

He folded the letter from her—supposedly from her—that he’d been reading, stacked it on top of the rest and tied the string around them. What he wanted to do was burn them along with his marriage certificate.

The way he saw it, they had no other choice. Vows had been spoken. The Bible made it clear about the wrongness of breaking vows. Like it or not, he and Selina were legally married. There was only one answer to that question. “I guess we head home.”

Her gaze flew up to his and the color drained from her face.

Michael understood exactly how she felt. But they had no other choice. He hoisted his body off the log and offered Selina a helping hand up. “We made our vows before God and we need to honor those vows. Let’s go home.”

DEBRA ULLRICK

is an award-winning author who is happily married to her husband of thirty-six years. For more than twenty-five years, she and her husband and their only daughter lived and worked on cattle ranches in the Colorado Mountains. The last ranch Debra lived on was also where a famous movie star and her screenwriter husband chose to purchase property. She now lives in the flatlands where she’s dealing with cultural whiplash. Debra loves animals, classic cars, mud-bog racing and monster trucks. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, drawing Western art, feeding wild birds, watching Jane Austen movies, COPS, or Castle.

Debra loves hearing from her readers. You can contact her through her website, www.debraullrick.com.

The Unlikely Wife

Debra Ullrick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

Welcome to Love Inspired!

2012 is a very special year for us. It marks the fifteenth anniversary of Love Inspired Books. Hard to believe that fifteen years ago, we first began publishing our warm and wonderful inspirational romances.

Back in 1997, we offered readers three books a month. Since then we’ve expanded quite a bit! In addition to the heartwarming contemporary romances of Love Inspired, we have the exciting romantic suspenses of Love Inspired Suspense, and the adventurous historical romances of Love Inspired Historical. Whatever your reading preference, we’ve got fourteen books a month for you to choose from now!

Throughout the year we’ll be celebrating in several different ways. Look for books by bestselling authors who’ve been writing for us since the beginning, stories by brand-new authors you won’t want to miss, special miniseries in all three lines, reissues of top authors, and much, much more.

This is our way of thanking you for reading Love Inspired books. We know our uplifting stories of hope, faith and love touch your hearts as much as they touch ours.

Join us in celebrating fifteen amazing years of inspirational romance!

Blessings,

Melissa Endlich and Tina James

Senior Editors of Love Inspired Books

This book is dedicated to my dear sister Marlene Baylor.

Every time I’ve needed a friend, or a listening ear, or encouragement, or needed lifting up, you’ve been there for me. Thank you so much! You’ll never know how much that means to me. How much YOU mean to me. I luv ya high as the sky, Marlene.

God bless you.

* * *

For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.

—1 Samuel 16–7

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Paradise Haven, Idaho Territory

1885

This has to be a nightmare.

Standing in front of Michael Bowen at Paradise Haven’s train station was the woman who claimed to be his wife. His eyes traveled up and down the length of her. Instead of a dress, she wore a red scarf draped around her neck, a black cowboy hat with a stampede string, black cowboy boots and brown loose-fitting trousers. In her hands she held a Long Tom black powder rifle.

A rifle? The woman was holding a rifle. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the weapon that was nearly as long as she was tall.

Michael bore down on his teeth until he thought his jaw would snap. Even with her heart-shaped face, stunning smile and beautiful brown eyes, the person standing before him looked more like a female outlaw on a wanted poster than the genteel lady he had been corresponding with for the past five months. The woman he had fallen deeply and passionately in love with. The woman he had legally married sight unseen.

This woman was nothing like what he’d expected. Nothing. There had to be some mistake. There just had to be.

Suddenly, she lunged toward him and threw her arms around his neck. He stiffened and struggled to draw in even the smallest amount of air because she squeezed him so tightly. Dear God, have mercy on me.

“Oh, Michael! It’s so nice to finally meet ya.” Selina Farleigh Bowen pulled back and stared into her new husband’s face. She knew Michael would be handsome—no one who wrote letters that sweet could not be. But even if he were uglier than a Kentucky toad, she’d still love him.

She took a second to study his face. Jaw, nice and square. Nose, straight. Eyes, breathtaking and smiling, the color of a sapphire necklace her ma once had when days were better. Lips, bow shaped. The man was so handsome. And he was all hers. “I just can’t believe I’m finally here.”

Michael stared down at her with wide eyes.

Her husband wasn’t smiling, and he looked like he’d just swallowed a giant cricket. Her joy evaporated.

She took a step back and dipped her head sideways, wondering if she’d done something wrong or if he was disappointed in her looks. Maybe she shouldn’t have grabbed him and hugged him like she had. After all, that was a mighty bold thing to do, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d waited five long months for this day.

Still, maybe her boldness had upset him. She reckoned she’d better apologize. “I’m sorry, Michael. I oughta not tossed my arms about you like that. Forgive me iffen that was outta line.”

He continued to stare, saying nothing.

“Bear got your tongue or somethin’?”

“You—you can’t be Selina.”

Whoa. She wasn’t expecting that. “What do ya mean I can’t be Selina? Of course I’m Selina.”

He tugged his gray cowboy hat off his head and ran the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead, then settled the hat back into place. “You can’t be. The Selina who wrote me was…” His eyelids lowered to the wood planks under his feet, but Selina still caught sight of the hurt in his eyes.

Quicksand plopped into her belly. “Michael.” She waited until he looked at her. His expression was blank. “You said the Selina who wrote you was… Was what, Michael?”

“She was…”

She was what?

The longer he stood there not saying anything the more skittish her insides got. “Tell me, Michael. She was… I mean, I was what?”

“Well, will you look at her? That’s repulsive.” Disgust oozed from a woman’s voice as she passed by them.

Selina swung her attention to two young women standing about five yards away with their fancy dresses and matching hats with long feathers sticking out of them.

“Are you sure it’s a she? Looks more like a man to me.”

Selina caught sight of their faces.

They looked her up and down with a snarl on their faces. Jumpin’ crickets. Did those women have their corsets in a twist or what?

“I can’t believe she would be seen in public like that.”

Selina had dealt with their type all her life. People who thought they were better than her just because they had money and could afford fancy clothes.

Selina narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips and gave them her meanest stare while patting her rifle.

Their eyes widened. They linked arms and scurried off like a herd of scared mice stuck in a shack filled with cats. Worked every time.

Selina turned back to Michael.

His eyes followed the women until they disappeared around the train depot building. She wondered what was going through his mind. “Michael, would you mind iffen we found someplace over yonder so we can talk? I need you to tell me what was in them letters.”

“What do you mean you need me to tell you what was in the letters? You wrote them.” A frown pulled at his face. “What’s going on here, Selina?” His voice was harsh and loud enough that people stopped what they were doing to stare at them.

“Whoa.” She held up her hand to ward off the roughness of his words. “Just back up your horses, cowboy, and I’ll explain everything. But not here. Come on.” She tugged on his shirt sleeve. He balked like a stubborn mule, and she had to practically drag him all the way to the edge of the trees out of the earshot of others.

She sat down on a log and hoped Michael would do the same, but he just stood there, towering over her.

“Won’t you please sit a spell? I’ll have a crick in my neck iffen I have to keep lookin’ up at you like this.”

He lowered his backside onto the log but as far to the other end as possible.

He removed his hat and worked the brim of it into a curl.

Such a waste of a mighty fine hat.

Why, Pa would skin her and her brothers alive if one of them ever treated a hat like that. But she wasn’t here to talk about that. “Michael, I don’t know what the problem is, but I want you to know that I told Aimee to tell you that I had no book learnin’ and that I couldn’t read nor write because I had to help my pa raise the youngins after my ma took sick and died.”

“What do you mean you can’t read or write?” His shocked face made her want to find a rock to crawl under. She dropped her head in shame. “And who’s Aimee?” he asked.

“You don’t know?”

“No. Why should I?”

“Aimee’s my friend who wrote them letters for me.”

“I’m confused.”

“I can see that. I’m a mite confused myself because Aimee was supposed to tell you that she was writin’ for me. Must have slipped her mind.” At least Selina hoped that was why Aimee hadn’t told him.

“Well, she didn’t.”

“What did she tell you then?”

“The letters said that your father was dying and that was why you answered my advertisement. When I mentioned that I didn’t want someone to marry me because they needed a place, you…Aimee…suggested we correspond a time in order to get to know each other. Then after a couple of months if neither one of us cared for the other, we would find someone else. But the more I wrote, the more I fell in love with…”

“Finish what you were fixin’ to say, Michael. You fell in love with who? Me or Aimee?”

“I—I don’t know. The woman in the letters?” He placed his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “Only now I don’t know who that person is.”

“Me, neither.” She hated having to admit that. “There’s only one way to find out. You got them letters with you?”

“Yes.”

“Would you mind fetchin’ them?”

He stood. “They’re in the wagon. I’ll be right back.”

Selina had a sick feeling as he walked away. If her doubts were right, Aimee hadn’t told Michael everything Selina had asked her to. And if Aimee hadn’t, then her best friend had done not only Selina wrong, but also Michael.

But surely Aimee wouldn’t have done such a wicked thing. Her friend loved her and had always treated her kindly. Unlike those other rich folks she’d worked for who had treated her worse than an unwanted critter. Her friend had even rescued Selina when Aimee’s brothers had tried to drown Selina in the river. If Aimee hadn’t shown up when she had, she wasn’t at all certain she would be here today.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if Aimee had tricked them. If so, did that mean Selina had up and hitched herself to a man who loved someone else? Namely her beautiful friend Aimee?

Michael took his time walking to the wagon. He needed to get his thoughts together. He had a hard time believing the woman sitting on the log was his bride. The word bride stuck in his throat like a chicken bone.

For years, Michael had prayed for God to send him someone like Rainee, his first real crush, but Selina was nothing like Rainee. His sister-in-law was a woman he admired and respected. She was the epitome of femininity, a Southern belle who was educated and smart, beautiful inside and out, genteel yet strong, feisty but sweet, able to hold her own when need be and a real survivor. Everything he wanted in a wife.

Tired of living alone at the age of twenty-seven, with women still scarce in the Idaho Territory, he had decided to take out an advertisement. After all, it had worked for Rainee and Haydon.

If only it would have worked for him.

If only he would have taken the time to get on that train and head out to Kentucky to meet Selina before actually marrying her by proxy. But he couldn’t be spared.

The coming of the railroad had made getting feed and supplies much easier. Because of that, he and his family had purchased more property and livestock.

Even with the extra hired help, Michael was needed to tend the cattle and hogs, the apple, plum and pear orchards, the hay, wheat, oat and barley fields. His absence would have put too much burden on his family, and he had refused to let that happen.

He thought his heart had been in the right place at the time, but now he was stuck with the consequences of that decision and had no one to blame but himself. With a heavy sigh, he retrieved the letters from behind the seat of the wagon and headed back to Selina.

Her cowboy hat now rested against her back. Sunshine glistened down on her head, exposing rivers of copper and blond streaks flowing throughout her molasses-colored hair.

Her skin was flawless.

Her teeth were even and white and her striking, rich, coffee-colored eyes held a million questions. Questions he didn’t know the answers to.

No denying the woman was beautiful, but none of that mattered. She wasn’t what he had wanted or prayed for. Of that he was certain.

He lowered himself at the opposite end of the log from Selina. Without looking at her, he tugged at the string around the parcel and opened the first letter he’d received from her. He practically had it memorized. Neat penmanship and feminine curves looked back at him, mocking him with their precise, dainty script. Script filled with lies and deception.

“This is the first letter I got from you. ‘Dear Mr. Bowen. My name is Selina Farleigh. I’m twenty-five years old, five-foot-three inches tall with brown hair and brown eyes. I am responding to your advertisement because my father has taken ill. You see, the man my father works for provides our lodging. Once my father passes on, I will have to leave as I will no longer have a home.’”

“That’s not true,” Selina interrupted him.

He glanced at her.

“It’s true about my pa taking ill but not that other stuff. No wonder you said you didn’t want someone to marry you because they needed a home. Well, I didn’t need a home, and Aimee knew that. My pa owned a place in the hills. Wasn’t much, but my brothers own it now. I could’ve stayed there with my brother and his wife.”

“Why did you answer my advertisement?”

“I let Aimee talk me into it. My pa’s dying wish was to see me hitched to a good man. Pa said he could die in peace knowin’ I was happily married and far away from Bart.”

“Who’s Bart?”

“A fella back home who wanted me to marry him.” She scrunched her face. “No way would I have married Bart even iffen he was the last man on earth. Somethin’ about him gave me the willies. Pa didn’t much care for him none either. Said he drank too much moonshine. So when Pa found out about the ad and how Aimee was encouragin’ me to write to you and all, he agreed. Said he wanted me to have a better life.”

She looked away. “’Course, when he found out you were a pig farmer, he said it wouldn’t be much of a better life but at least I’d be far away from the likes of Bart and would always have food to eat. That made Pa feel a whole heap better. Plus, he knew I never wanted to marry a rich man.”

Michael’s attention snagged on that last comment. Why didn’t she want to marry someone rich? What was she going to say when she found out she already had? Did he even care?

“Then again, Aimee was supposed to tell you all a that.”

Well, she hadn’t. And Michael couldn’t help but wonder who the real villainess was here and if all of this was some elaborate scheme to snag a husband. He had no way of knowing the truth. What he did know was, he felt the deception through every inch of his body and the largest portion of that deception settled into his heart.

From the way she was looking at him, he knew she was waiting for his response, but instead of responding, he raised the letter and continued to read.

“‘Your advertisement states that you cannot travel as the work on your ranch needs your attention. I am willing to travel, but my father will not let me leave without first being married.’” Michael glanced over at her. “Is that true? Your father would not allow you to leave until you were married first?”

“Yes, sir. And neither would my brothers.”

He nodded, then continued to read. From the corner of his eye, he could see Selina pulling the bead up and down on her stampede string.

The more he read, the faster she raised and lowered the bead. And if he wasn’t mistaken, a shiny wet spot covered her cheek.

As he read one letter after another and Selina refuted one thing after another, anger replaced any love he felt toward the person who penned them.

“I’ve heard enough. Please stop.”

She’d heard enough? He’d heard plenty. Plenty enough to know he’d been lied to and tricked.

His gaze fell to the stack of letters in his lap that at one time had brought him more love and joy than he’d ever known before. He had loved the sense of humor in them, the wit, the charm, the way the person saw beauty in the smallest things, the feistiness and confidence the person in them possessed. Only that woman no longer existed.

Or did she?

He didn’t know anymore.

Didn’t know what to believe or who to believe.

This whole thing was making him crazy.

Who could do such a wicked thing? And why? What could their motive be? He folded the letter he’d been reading, stacked it on top of the rest and tied the string around them. What he really wanted to do was burn them and his marriage certificate.

“I’m so sorry, Michael.” Selina’s voice cracked. “Everything I told her to say, she twisted or made it bigger than it was. She even wrote things I never did say.” She shook her head, looking lost, alone, terrified even.

He couldn’t help but wonder if it was all an act. He hated thinking like that, but he didn’t know the truth or how to find it.

“Can’t believe Aimee did that. I don’t understand why she did this to me. To us.” Her gaze dropped, along with her voice. “I—I don’t rightly know what to say except…” Her chest rose and fell. “What do we do now?”

Her whisper, broken by tears, tugged at his heart. He hated seeing a woman cry, no matter how angry he was.

What did they do now?

Vows had been spoken, and the Bible made it clear about the wrongness of breaking vows. Like it or not, he and Selina were legally married. There was only one answer to that question. “I guess we head home.”

Her gaze flew up to his and the color in her face fled.

Michael understood exactly how she felt. But they had no other choice. He hoisted his body off the log and offered Selina a helping hand up. “We made our vows before God and we need to honor those vows. Let’s go home.”

Selina picked up her rifle and slung the sling around her neck.

They shuffled their way back toward the train depot.

“Where’s your luggage?” he asked without looking at her, his mind and body numb. Dead, even.

“I only have the one bag.” She headed toward a patched-up gunnysack, picked it up and faced him.

He stared at the bag, shocked by her obvious poverty. “Here, let me take that for you.” His focus trailed to her face.

She raised her head and jutted her chin before shifting her bag away from his reach. “Thank you kindly, but I can carry it myself.”

He didn’t mean to hurt her pride. He nodded, then pointed to his wagon, the only one left at the station now.

She slipped her hat back on, strode to the back of the buckboard, laid her rifle and sack down, then leaped onto the tail of the wagon, leaving her legs dangling.

That wasn’t what he had in mind when he pictured taking his bride home. And what if his family was around when he got back to the ranch? What would they think if they saw her sitting back there and not up front with him?

Indecision tugged him in several directions as he debated what to do. Embarrassed by her appearance, he preferred she stay back there. But then again, if she did, his family would wonder what was wrong and he certainly didn’t want to tell them he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. They already thought he was crazy because of some of the poor choices he’d made in the past.

Like the goats he’d bought on a whim.

The little brats had destroyed his mother’s garden, chewed up some of the laundry and had even wreaked havoc at some of their neighbors’ places. It had taken him a long time to make amends and to get rid of them. No one wanted the goats. He finally had to give them away. His family still gave him a hard time for that one. They’d have a field day with this one.

“Selina.” He scuffed at the dirt with his boot. “Would you mind sitting up front with me?”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because… Whether we like it or not, we are man and wife, and I think it would be best if we acted like it.”

She tilted her head and studied him. “I see what you’re sayin’, and I won’t shame ya by not sittin’ next to you.” Before he had a chance to help her, she hopped down and seated herself up front, leaving the sweet scent of field flowers in her wake.

He stared, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to a woman who acted and dressed like a man. And yet, what choice did he have? For better or worse, she was now his wife. And he had a bad feeling it was going to be for the worse.

Chapter Two

Selina scooted as close to the side of the wagon seat as possible. Touching Michael was something she didn’t want to do. Her heart ached something fierce knowing Michael didn’t love her and that she’d pretty much come all this way for nothing.

If only she’d known all of this back home, she would’ve never gotten hitched then. She’d seen the ugliness of what a marriage without love could do to folks, to the whole family, and it wasn’t a pretty sight.

Long ago she had made a promise to herself to never get married unless the man truly loved her and she loved him. When she’d said yes to Michael’s proposal, she believed she was honoring that promise.

Why did she ever let Aimee talk her into answering that stupid ad? If she hadn’t, then neither she nor Michael would be in this mess.

Poor Michael. What he must be going through. “Michael.”

“Yes?”

“I’m really sorry for what my friend did. I had no idea she wrote those things and lied to you. Iffen I’d known, I would never have come.”

“What’s done is done, Selina. We’ll just make the best of it.”

He sure seemed to be taking it a lot easier than she was. Either that or he was mighty good at hiding it.

Silence followed them the rest of the way home. That was fine with Selina. Gave her time to take in the scenery.

Layers of green rolling hills stretched before her, ending at the base of a mountain covered with trees. Well, if a body could call these here mountains. They weren’t nearly as big as the ones back home. In Kentucky, these mountains would be called nothing more than hills.

One thing for certain, this place was nothing like where she’d come from. But then again, nowhere on God’s green earth ever would be to her. Born and raised in the Appalachian Mountains, she loved Kentucky and all its beauty. Before she left, she had fastened every little detail of them and her home into her memory so she’d never forget what they looked like.

The sun bore down on her back, heating her body something awful. She sure could use a drink. She licked her lips.

Michael twisted in the seat and reached for something behind him. He handed a canteen to her.

“How’d you know I was thirsty?”

His only response was a hike of his shoulder.

Wasn’t long before they rounded a bend in the trees.

“Whoa, girls.” Michael pulled the horses to a halt in front of a house five times bigger than the shack she grew up in.

Selina turned to Michael. “Why we stoppin’ here?” She gawked at the large two-story house with rocking chairs, small tables and a big wooden swing on the porch that went clear around the place.

“I live here.”

“This is yours?”

“Yes. It is.”

“Well, I’ll be hanged. You told me you were a pig farmer. Or did Aimee lie about that, too?”

“No. She didn’t. I am a pig farmer. But I said that I also raise cattle.”

“Oh, no,” she groaned. “I can’t believe I up and married myself a rich man.”

Michael turned his head her direction. “You sound like that’s a bad thing.”

“It is. Iffen I’d a known you was rich, I’d never have answered that ad.”

“What do you have against rich people?”

“Lots of things. Folks who have money think they’re better than poor folk. Treatin’ us like we’re lower than dirt. Like we have no feelin’s at all.”

“Hey, now just you wait a minute. You can’t go judging all rich people by the ones where you come from. My family and I do not turn up our noses at poor folks or treat them like dirt, either. Nor are we mean. I resent you clumping us into some category when you don’t even know us.”

“You might resent it, but the truth is you’re just like them rich folks back home. Back at the train station I saw you turn your nose down at me and how I look. My whole life people been judgin’ me by the way I dress. All I can say is, I’m mighty glad the good Lord looks at the heart and not the outside like some folks do.”

His cheeks turned the color of a rusty-pink sunset.

“Aimee was rich, too. And look what she did to us.” Selina spoke under her breath, still in shock at what her friend had done. She didn’t want to think about that right now though. It hurt too much.

She hopped down from the wagon and grabbed her bag. Good thing she’d found a flour sack and put it to rights the best way she could, or she wouldn’t have had anything to put her few belongings in.

Her eyes trailed to the huge house again and she wondered how many people lived here.

Michael was waiting for her at the end of the steps, looking uncomfortable.

Well, he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. C’mon, Selina. You can do this. She met him and followed him up the stairs.

Michael opened the door and waited for her to go in first. One thing about the man, he was a gentleman. She stepped inside and stopped. Never in all of her born days had she seen anything so fancy.

The place was filled with more furniture than she’d ever laid eyes on. Her focus slid to the rich brown kitchen table and the six matching chairs with fancy carved legs and arms. Fresh flowers flowed from a large vase in the center of the table, which was covered with a lacy tablecloth.

And the cook stove, why, it was mighty fine. Unlike the old potbelly stove back home. That thing was harder than the dickens to keep burning and the door barely hung on.

Selina stepped farther inside, taking in the whole room. Two cream-colored rockers with gold squiggly lines running through the fancy curved tops and arms sat on one side of the fireplace, facing a matching sofa with blue, gold and cream-colored pillows on it. Betwixt them was a long table. A large oval blue-and-cream rug had been placed underneath the table. Sure was pretty.

Heavy drapes held back by a braided rope covered six tall living room windows.

On the mantel of the large stone fireplace sat a clock, with three different-sized brass candlestick holders on each side of it.

Selina strode toward the fireplace and crouched down, peering past the metal screen.

Why, the thing went plumb through to the other side into a bedroom with a cherry-colored dresser topped with a long mirror, another dresser that was taller and a four-poster bed, and all of them were done in the same fancy carved wood as the rest of the place. On top of the bed was a white quilt with light and dark blue circles and dark blue pillow covers. Pale blue drapes swagged the windows.

She loved blue. A tear slipped from her eye. She thumbed it away and wouldn’t allow any more to escape. Knowing Aimee had told Michael that Selina loved blue made her wonder if the blue bed quilt and house curtains were done on purpose. Well, even if they had been, who were they done for? Her or Aimee?

Selina turned to see Michael standing in the doorway with his hat in his hands, watching her. Never before had she felt so out of place or uncomfortable. And she didn’t like it. Not one little bit. She pressed her shoulders back, determined to not let it show. “Your home is beautiful, Michael. Whoever took the time of it did a right fine job.”

When he said nothing, she played with the bead on her hat string. No longer able to stand the silence, she said, “Well, I reckon you must be hungry. Let me get my rifle and I’ll hunt us up some grub.”

His head bobbed forward like a rooster. “Grub? Are you serious?”

She raised her chin, not liking how he made her feel with his tone. “Yes, sir, I am serious. You wanna eat, don’t ya?”

“Well, yes, but you don’t have to hunt for any grub,” he said the word grub as if he hadn’t ever heard it before. “I’m assuming grub refers to food.”

Sure enough, he hadn’t.

“I have a cellar and a pantry full of meat and anything else you might need. Here. I’ll show you.” Michael walked over to a small room off the kitchen, opened the door and stepped to the side.

Selina came up beside him at the doorway entry and peered inside. Her eyeballs nearly popped out of their sockets. The room was filled with canned goods, a large bag of flour and sugar, eggs, coffee, cornmeal and just about anything a body would need to fix a meal. Except she didn’t see any meat.

“That door at the end of the pantry leads into the cellar,” he said from behind her. A little too close behind her as far as she was concerned. She squirmed forward, but his broad-shouldered body took up most of the small space. Thing was, it didn’t seem that small before he stepped into it.

Wood, soap and peppermint scents drifted from him. He sure smelled nice.

Swallowing to stop the thoughts, she moved farther into the room, putting even more space between them.

“You’ll find whatever meat you need down there along with fresh vegetables and canned fruit.”

Selina opened the door and squatted, trying to see in the dark hole but couldn’t. It was coal black. When she stood, Michael picked up a lantern and matches from one of the shelves and lit it.

“Here. Take this.”

She took it from him and made her way slowly down the steep, narrow stairs, expecting one of them to give way any time, but they never did. They were nothing like the rickety steps back home. These were nice and sturdy.

At the bottom of the steps, she held the lantern up. Jumpin’ crickets! she thought, unable to believe her eyes. One whole side of the room was filled with hanging meat. All sorts of canned goods lined two of the walls. Barrels of taters, carrots, dehydrated apples, turnips and onions lined the other wall. More food than a body could eat in a year.

Michael stepped into the cavelike room, filling it with his presence. She struggled to keep her wits about her as she continued to take in what was before her. “How many will I be feedin’?”

“Just you and me.”

Selina whirled. “All a this food is just for the two of us?”

“Yes. I wanted to make sure there was plenty when you got here. We butchered a few head of cows and some pigs and divided the meat. Mother, Rainee, Hannah and Leah canned all the fruits and vegetables and the fish and chicken, you see.”

“There sure is a lot of it. Must’ve taken them a long time to put up so much. Well, from now on, I can do ours so they won’t have to.”

“You know how to can?”

“Sure do. I told you so in my letters.” Her heart dropped to the dirt floor of the cellar with that slip of the tongue. Now why’d she have to go and bring up them letters for? All that did was remind her that she wasn’t the woman her husband was expecting, that she wasn’t loved and that this wasn’t a real marriage and probably never would be.

“Well, I need to go and finish my chores.” He turned and headed toward the steps.

She followed him, hoping to do something to reclaim her pride. “I’ll help you.”

He stopped on the stair and looked down at her. The man sure had pretty blue eyes.

“Help me? You don’t have to help me. Chores are man’s work.”

“Not where I come from they’re not. Besides, I aim to do my part to earn my keep and to help out around here.”

He raised his hat and forked his fingers through his hair, then put his hat back on. “Selina, you don’t have to earn your keep. You’re my wife.”

A wife you don’t want.

“And no wife of mine is going to do chores.”

Did she just hear what she thought she’d heard?

She planted her hands on her hips. “And no man is ever gonna tell me what to do.”

Not even her husband—no, make that especially not her husband. She’d never let him bully or boss her around or tell her what she could and couldn’t do like her cousin Mary’s husband had done. Mary had always been a cheerful and happy sort until she’d gotten hitched. Her husband stripped the life out of her with his controlling, bullying ways. He’d broken Mary’s spirit until she was walking and acting like some dead person. Even worse, Mary had let him.

Well, not this gal.

Michael came back down the stairs and looked her right in the eyes. “I’ll say it again. Chores are man’s work and no wife of mine is going to do men’s chores.”

Just who did this sidewinder think he was, bossing her around like that? She stepped even closer, coming toe-to-toe with him. “And I’ll say it again. No man is ever gonna tell me what I can or can’t do.” Selina refused to be beholden to anybody. She’d seen the ugliness of that, too.

He closed the distance between them until they were almost nose-to-nose. “You’re not doing chores and that’s final.” With one more hard look he whirled and stomped up the stairs.

Well, she could stomp just as hard as he could and she did, too, until she met up with him. Then, she bolted past him and was out the door and in the buckboard before he even made it to the wagon.

He climbed aboard and glanced at her. “You’re incorrigible. You know that?” He snatched up the reins and slapped his horses on the behind. The wagon lurched forward.

She didn’t know what that word meant, but she had a feeling it wasn’t good.

Michael rounded the trees by the main ranch. Oh, no. He should have known his family would do something like this. Neighbors, family and friends filled the ranch yard, along with benches, tables loaded with food and two large signs.

One read: Congratulations Mr. & Mrs. Michael Bowen.

The other: Welcome to our family and community, Selina.

The first thought that struck him was his wife’s attire; the second was he hoped she wouldn’t open her mouth. He wanted to turn the horses around and head back home before anyone caught sight of them.

“Here they come,” his sister-in-law Rainee hollered. Rainee waddled toward them as fast as her pregnant belly would allow. Before he could think of a good way to get them out of there, she stepped up to Selina’s side of the wagon and offered her a big welcoming smile. “Selina. Welcome to the family.”

With no grace whatsoever, Selina hopped down. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”

Immediately Michael detected suspicion in Selina’s voice. One look at her face confirmed it. He figured it stemmed from her earlier comments about rich folks. Well, she’d just have to put her prejudice aside and learn that not all folks who had wealth treated poor folks badly. Sure, he had turned his nose up at her when he first saw her, but she needed to understand it was the shock of seeing her dressed like a man and not a woman. Like a tomboy. An outlaw even.

The sad fact was, rich and poor alike would find her attire inappropriate. He knew many a poor woman and they didn’t dress like her, so wealth had nothing to do with people judging her. Her lack of propriety did.

Before he had a chance to introduce her, Rainee said, “I am Rainelle Victoria Bowen.” She curtsied. “But, please, call me, Rainee.” Rainee looped arms with Selina and led her to the crowd of people.

This whole thing was a nightmare come true.

Seeing no way out of it, Michael hopped down from the wagon and followed them. When he caught sight of the surprised look on the men’s faces and the horror on some of the women’s as their gazes traveled over her, anger surged through him. He didn’t like her appearance, either, but how dare they openly show disrespect for the woman who was, after all, his wife.

He strode to Selina’s side and placed his hand at the base of her back.

Selina looked up at him, at his arm and then back at his face, a question lingering in her untrusting wide brown eyes.

His gaze remained fixed on her, taking in her face, her high cheekbones and perfectly shaped lips. The woman was beautiful. Why did she hide it under that hat? Perhaps she didn’t know she was beautiful.

Leah and Abby rushed up to meet her.

“Selina, these are my sisters, Leah and Abigail.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Leah gave her a quick hug.

“It’s Abby, not Abigail. That sounds so stuffy. Just like you, Michael.” Abby wrinkled her nose at him and then turned her focus onto Selina. “I love your outfit.” His sixteen-year-old sister smiled, beaming as her gaze raked over Selina’s clothing.

Dear Lord, don’t let Abby start wanting to wear pants, too.

His sister-in-law Hannah looked up from wiping baby Rebecca’s mouth. She handed the baby to her oldest son, Thomas, who took her willingly. He’d make a fine father some day. Just like his father, Jesse.

“Selina!” Hannah rushed over and gave her a hug. “Welcome to the family. We’re so happy to have you here.”

“Selina, this is my sister-in-law, Hannah.”

“Pleasure to meet ya, ma’am,” Selina said.

“Mama, where’s my drink? I’m thirsty.” William, Michael’s five-year-old nephew and Hannah and Jesse’s middle child, tugged on his mother’s skirt.

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Sorry—I need to get my son something to drink. We’ll talk later. You must come and see me. I live over there.” She pointed to her and Jesse’s house, then swung William into her arms and like a whirlwind she was gone.

Michael’s mother scurried up to them. “Selina, I’m Katherine. Michael’s mother.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“Welcome to the family, Selina. You must come by the house tomorrow so we can get better acquainted.”

“That’s right neighborly of you.” Skepticism shrouded Selina’s face once again.

“Hi, son.” His mother barely glanced at him. “You don’t mind if I borrow your wife, do you? There’s someone I’d like her to meet.”

“Hi to you, too, Mother.” He smiled. “No, I don’t mind at all.”

“Good. Because even if you did, I was going to steal her anyway.” Mother reached up and kissed his cheek before she looped arms with Selina and scampered her over to the same group of ladies he’d seen scowling. He watched, waiting and ready in case Selina needed his intervention.

“She isn’t what you expected, is she?”

Michael turned toward his brother Jesse. With those seven words, Michael knew his acting hadn’t worked. Making sure no one was within hearing distance he said, “No, she sure isn’t. I’m so angry and confused, Jess, I don’t know what to do. I married the wrong woman.”

Jesse frowned. “What do you mean ‘the wrong woman’?”

With a shake of his head, Michael beat back the awful truth. “Selina didn’t write the letters—her friend Aimee did.”

“I don’t understand.”

There was no reason to hide the truth. Jesse had been with him through this whole thing from the beginning. In short detail, Michael explained everything to his brother. How the woman he fell in love with didn’t really exist. Or if she did, she existed in two different people. One of whom he married. The other of whom he might have actually loved.

Jesse’s concern was written all over his face. “Now that’s a tough one. But remember, you did pray about it.”

“I didn’t pray for this, Jess. You know what I prayed for. Why would God do this to me?”

“God didn’t do anything to you. He did it for you. He has a plan, Michael. We talked about this, remember?”

“A plan? What? To humiliate me? And how could you say God did it for me? What could God possibly have in mind? I mean, look at her, Jess. She’s…” He couldn’t even finish.

Jesse slid his gaze toward Selina. “She’s um…different, but she seems friendly enough and she’s very beautiful.”

“She’s different all right. She might be beautiful, too, but she’s nothing like what I had my heart set on marrying.”

“Look, I know you wanted someone like Rainee. But there’s only one Rainee and she’s married to our brother.”

“I know that. It’s just… Well, every time I prayed for a wife, I asked God to send me someone just like her.”

“Maybe He did.”

Michael’s brows spiked. “I don’t think so. I don’t mean to sound cruel, but look at the way she’s dressed. And the way she talks.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think the woman who wrote the letters comes closer to what I was wanting in a wife than Selina ever could.”

“You don’t know that. From what you told me, the person in the letters is a mixture of Selina and Aimee and a lot of things were exaggerated. So you have no idea what Aimee is really like except that she’s the kind of woman—”

Michael finished Jesse’s sentence. “Who would send her friend out West knowing she had lied, that she had deceived not only her, but also the man she had married. Leaving Selina to deal with the consequences.” That thought alone secured his compassion toward Selina.

Nobody deserved to be treated that way. Especially by a friend she trusted. Indignation roiled through his gut. If Aimee were here right now he’d tell her exactly what he thought of her.

“Why did I have to come up with that ridiculous plan to say my vows of marriage in front of Reverend James and sign the marriage certificate and send it to her so she could do the same in front of her minister? If I hadn’t, then neither one of us would be in this miserable situation.” He caught his brother’s gaze. “What am I going to do, Jess? I’m in love with a dream woman who doesn’t exist. And even worse… I don’t love my wife. She’s a complete stranger to me.”

All of a sudden, his stomach churned and he thought he might be sick as unbidden flashbacks of another loveless marriage came rushing in on him.

Unbeknownst to anyone, as a young boy Michael had witnessed time and again his brother Haydon’s first wife Melanie’s rage toward Haydon.

From afar Michael heard Melanie’s cruel and spiteful remarks about what a poor excuse of a man she thought Haydon was. How she resented him for bringing her to this desolate place. How she hated him and wished she had never married him. How she had never loved him and had only married him for his money and his position in society.

To this day the memory of the pain on Haydon’s face still haunted Michael. His brother’s unhappiness had crushed Michael’s young heart. His brother changed after Melanie. He was no longer his confident self until years after Melanie’s death when God had sent Rainee into Haydon’s life. Because of her, Michael now had his brother back, and Haydon was happier than Michael had ever seen him.

Michael wanted the special kind of love Haydon had found with Rainee. With all his heart, Michael believed he had—until a few hours ago. But it was fully clear to him now that his marriage to Selina was nothing but a farce and that his worst nightmare of being stuck in a loveless marriage had now come true. How had he let this happen?

Jesse squeezed his shoulder, yanking Michael from the cave of darkness his thoughts had taken him to.

“I know this is hard, Michael.”

You have no idea how hard this thing is. No one does.

“But I have faith in you that you’ll do what’s right. Keep in mind that when Rainee first came, Haydon didn’t want anything to do with her, either. He didn’t believe God was in that whole situation, yet look how it turned out. They have two beautiful children and one on the way. Listen, I’ve got to run. Hannah is waving me down. If you need to talk, you know I’m here.”

“Thanks, Jess.” Michael pulled his brother into a quick hug then watched him head toward Hannah.

“Hey, buddy.” Michael stiffened. The town heckler, Jake Lure, stepped alongside him and slapped him on the back. “Well, I guess we know who wears the pants in your family.” Jake cackled and twitched his thick blond eyebrows in a mocking gesture.

Michael clenched his fists at his sides.

Jake looked around and then leaned closer to Michael. “You know, I think I’ve seen that beautiful face somewhere before. On one of the wanted posters at the jail.” He cackled again.

Even though the man was a few inches taller than Michael’s six-foot, broad-shouldered frame, Michael found himself wanting to punch Jake. But, he refused to stoop to this man’s lower-than-dirt level.

Yet, hadn’t he already done that by judging Selina’s outward appearance, too? He had even justified his actions by reminding himself that she was not what he was expecting and it was the shock of seeing her dressed in trousers that had made him act so unbecomingly.

Thinking about how despicable his ungodly thoughts had been, he repented immediately. In that second, he decided no man or woman was ever going to get away with talking about his wife like that again.

“I’ll thank you not to insult my wife ever again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my bride.” Michael turned to leave.

“Just look for the lady in trousers.” Jake’s hooting laughter grated on Michael’s nerves, but he refused to give into the temptation to pummel the guy.

Instead, he pushed his shoulders back and headed toward Selina. “I will.” He tossed the words over his shoulder.

All the way to Selina, Michael fumed. Just who did Jake think he was, anyway? How dare he or anyone disrespect his wife like that? He may not like the way she dressed, either, but maybe that was all she could afford or had or grew up with. So who was he or anyone else to judge her?

He walked up next to Selina, standing amid a group of women who were laughing at something his wife had said. These were the very same people who when they had first laid eyes on her had shown disgust.

He slipped his arm around her shoulder. “Excuse me, ladies. You won’t mind if I steal my wife away, will you?”

“We do, but we’ll let you,” said Sadie Elder, who came out West four years before to marry Tom Elder, a widower with nine boys. She took Selina’s hands in hers. “You’re just what we needed around here, Selina. It’s a real pleasure meeting you. When you get settled, you must come by for a visit. Michael can show you where we live.” Sadie looked at Michael seeking his permission.

He nodded.

“Oh, yes, you must come by my house for a visit, too,” Mrs. Hawkins chimed in, and the other married ladies put in their requests, too.

Selina had obviously made a good impression on them. They not only seemed to accept her, outfit and all, but liked her well enough to invite her to their homes. That was a good sign. Wasn’t it?

“It’s right neighborly of y’all to invite me to y’alls homes. Iffen any of you need help, you let me know, and I’ll be there quicker than a frog snatchin’ a fly.”

They all laughed.

“Oh, Selina. You say the funniest things,” Sadie said through a chuckle.

Selina looked surprised by Sadie’s comment, then she wagged her finger at Sadie and said, “Don’t you go hurtin’ yourself liftin’ that cannin’ kettle. I’ll come by in a couple days and do it for you.” Selina glanced up at Michael and smiled. Her teeth were as white as freshly fallen snow and not a crooked one to be found. The woman really was beautiful. Judging from the way she was willing to help everyone, she must be beautiful on the inside, too. Only time would tell.

“And when that baby is ready to be birthed, I can help you. Iffen you want me to, that is. Like I told you, I helped birth many a baby.”

“Thank you so much, Selina. I feel better just knowing you’re here. I’ll see you soon then.” Sadie turned and waddled toward her husband.

Sadie, who was twenty years younger than her husband, was carrying Tom’s tenth child. Michael wondered if it would be another boy. For Sadie’s sake, he hoped it was a girl.

The loud ringing of the dinner bell jarred his attention.

“Everyone, it’s time to eat,” his mother hollered.

Each woman took a turn shaking Selina’s hand before they left in search of their husbands. Not one of them seemed to mind how heartily she returned their handshakes.

When the crowd quieted down, his mother turned her attention to him and Selina. “Michael and Selina, you get your plates first.”

Michael glanced down at his wife. “You ready?”

“Yes, sir. Ain’t had nothin’ to eat since last night. I’m so hungry I could eat a herd of lizards—skin and all.”

Lizards? The thought of eating lizards turned his stomach inside out. He hoped she was kidding. “Why haven’t you had anything to eat since last night?” He placed his hand on her back and led her toward the long food table.

“I ran outta money. Couldn’t afford none.”

Michael instantly felt horrible. “I’m sorry, Selina. I thought I sent you plenty of money to take care of everything.”

“Oh, you did. You did. But I couldn’t sit by and watch that poor widow woman strugglin’ to feed her three youngins.”

“What poor widow woman?”

“Mrs. Morrow. Her husband died and she was comin’ out West to marry up with a Mr. Clemens. From the way she tells it, he has four youngins himself. His wife died two years ago and he couldn’t keep up with them and his chores, so he placed an ad and she answered it. Mr. Clemens sent her enough money for the trip, but some polecat stole it from her. Can you believe some snake would do such an evil thing? And to a widow woman with three youngins no less. Why, iffen I’d caught him, I would have put a load of buckshot into his sorry hide to make sure he never did it again. I’m just so glad you sent me plenty enough that I was able to help poor Mrs. Morrow.”

She stopped and looked at him. Concern dotted her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll find some way to repay you. But I ain’t sorry I did it. Ain’t no way I was gonna sit by and listen to them youngins beg their mama for somethin’ to eat when I had plenty.”

What an unselfish thing she had done. To go without food so that another woman, a complete stranger and her children, could eat.

Maybe getting to know her wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

Chapter Three

Back at the house, Selina picked up her bag to ready herself for bed. She had a good time meeting all her new neighbors. Some of them were friendly, too. But all that visiting had tuckered her out. All she wanted to do was find some place to curl up and go to sleep. She wasn’t sure where that place was, though. The barn would suit her just fine, but she knew if someone saw her there, Michael would be shamed and she didn’t want that for him.

She hoped to one day share her bed with Michael just like her mama and pa had. But that wasn’t likely to happen with the way things were. Still, she wouldn’t give up hope. Later on, during her evening prayers, she’d tell God’s ears that if there was any way for Michael to love her one day, she sure would appreciate it.

Michael. This being her wedding night and all, just thinking about him sent shivers through her. She sighed. No sense pondering on him and making herself feel even worse than she already did. She needed to place her mind somewhere other than him. And she’d start with looking for a blanket or something to cover up with.

She searched a trunk and found one. While Michael was out at the privy, she put on her patched-up nightgown, tossed herself onto the living room sofa and pulled the blanket over her chest. Surprised at how soft the sofa was, she wiggled her way down into it.

The door clicked open.

Michael stepped one foot in and stopped to stare at her.

Selina yanked the cover up under her neck. “I hope you don’t mind me helpin’ myself to a blanket.”

He shut the door behind him. “Selina, this is your home now, too, and I want you to make yourself comfortable here. And you don’t have to sleep on the sofa, my bedroom is—”

“I ain’t gonna share your bed,” she blurted. Until I know for sure you’re in love with me and not Aimee, but she didn’t voice the last part. Thinking about what she’d said, white-hot flames licked their way up her neck and into her cheeks.

With a sigh he took another step in. “What I was going to say was, my bedroom is over there.” He pointed to the door off of the living room. “If you’d like to sleep in there, I can move my stuff into one of the upstairs bedrooms. Or, if you would like more privacy, you can take one of them. Whatever you decide is fine with me.”

What? No argument? No fight about his husbandly rights? She didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted. Considering their situation, she was definitely relieved. “I’ll take one of the upstairs bedrooms. Ain’t no sense in you movin’ all your belongings.”

He looked down at her flour sack, then back up at her. “Tomorrow, I’ll see if Leah can take you into town to purchase you some women’s shoes and material to make yourself some women’s clothing.”

It didn’t get past her none that he stressed the word women’s louder and longer than the rest of his words.

“I’m sure Mother and Leah would be more than happy to help you make a few dresses and bonnets and nightgowns and whatever else you may need.”

She sprung into a sitting position. The blanket fell from around her shoulders.

Michael’s eyes widened. He swung his attention away, looking everywhere but at her.

She snatched the cover up and tucked it back under her neck. “Just you back up your horses, cowboy. I don’t need dresses, and there ain’t a thing wrong with my clothes. Why, they’ve still got plenty of wear left in them. Besides, I don’t cotton to wearin’ dresses. They’re just too confinin’ and troublesome. You can’t even hunt in them.”

Michael’s attention flew back to her. He crossed his arms over his chest and spread his legs. His stare went clean through her, but she wouldn’t let him see that he unsettled her.

“That might be so. But no wife of mine is going to wear men’s clothing.”

“Listen here, Michael. I’ve been wearin’ them most of my life and I ain’t stoppin’ now. Men’s trousers are more practical.”

“They might be more practical, but in case it’s slipped your notice, the women around here do not wear pants. They wear dresses.”

“I ain’t other women. I’m me. And I won’t be puttin’ on airs for you or anyone else.”

His eyes slammed shut for only a moment before bouncing open. “You’re a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?”

“Ain’t tryin’ to be stubborn.” She wrapped the blanket around her and stood. “But I won’t be bullied into being somethin’ I ain’t, neither.” Michael wanted her to be something she wasn’t and never would be. A lady. Tomboy was more her style. She’d been one all her life and loved it. Maybe she was stubborn. But some things were worth being stubborn about—and wearing trousers was one of them.

Before Michael could give her the wherefores about propriety and proper attire, his mouth spread into a wide yawn he couldn’t stop. After the trying day he’d had, a soft bed and sleep sounded good. So, for right now, he’d let the subject drop, but he would definitely pick it up again in the morning. “It’s been a long day, and I’m ready to go to bed. I’ll show you to your room first.”

He motioned for her to precede him up the stairs, which she did after picking up her sack. At the top of the landing, he stopped and faced her. “There are three rooms. Take your pick.”

She peeked inside the first bedroom, then the second and then the third. “Iffen you don’t mind, I’ll take this one here.”

“That’s fine.” He managed to keep his head from shaking in frustration. “Whatever you want.” Somehow he had a feeling she would take the sparsest bedroom. The smallest room with the iron-framed bed, light blue quilt and matching curtains. Only a single dresser, a night stand with a lantern, a wash bowl and basin, three paintings on the wall, and one small closet occupied the room. The other two, which were larger and decorated as nicely as the rest of the house, didn’t seem to fit her. One thing for certain, she was a simple woman who liked simple things.

“Well, good night, Selina. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Michael,” she spoke softly in that melodic voice of hers, the one that in no way, shape or form matched her masculine attire or attitude.

Trying not to think about any of it, he headed to his bedroom, undressed and slid between the new cotton sheets. He rolled onto his side and stared at the blank pillow next to him. Tonight was the night he was supposed to be sharing with the woman of his dreams. Yet he’d felt nothing but relief when Selina said she wasn’t going to share his bed.

But he couldn’t bear the idea of spending his wedding night alone, without the woman he had dreamed about for five long months. A phantom woman who now only existed in his heart and his imagination. Grief barreled through him as the death of his dream came crashing in on him. Though he was exhausted, he dragged his weary body out of bed, threw on his pants and headed out onto the porch, where he leaned against one of the posts and stared up at the stars and the quarter moon.

Mosquitoes and gnats buzzed around his head. He waved them away as he watched the fading and returning lights of the stars dancing in the darkness above him.

Wind blew through the leaves of the trees and across his face, whispering a mournful sound that reflected the sad state he now found himself in.

He had no idea how to deal with his swirl of feelings.

Minutes ticked by while Michael berated himself for placing that ad in the first place. For not going out to meet her. For falling in love with a fantasy. If he hadn’t done that, then none of this would have happened. “Lord, I know I did this to myself, but what am I going to do about Selina? She’s a woman who is the complete opposite of everything I ever dreamed of. Imagined. Prayed for. She’s a woman—” He stopped and sighed.

Selina was a woman. That much was obvious when the blanket had fallen from her shoulders. Through her thin nightgown, he could see the outline of her womanly curves, curves that would be the envy of most women. Yet the way she dressed did nothing to show her femininity.

He sighed heavily and scratched his neck.

“Lord, You know I’ve been talking to You for eleven years, asking You for a woman like Rainee. Why would You send me someone like Selina? Why? Please, help me to understand.”

He listened for that still, small voice, but the only sounds he heard were coyotes howling in the distance, frogs calling out into the darkness and an owl hooting somewhere off in the trees.

Selina stepped up to the door in time to hear Michael ask why God had sent him someone like her. Her heart broke knowing she was causing Michael so much pain and heartbreak. But there was nothing she could do about it. Still, it hurt something fierce that he didn’t want her. Her dreams of them becoming truly hitched disappeared like smoke in the wind.

Careful not to make a sound, she backed away from the screen door and hightailed it back upstairs and into her bed. Not one normally given to crying, she buried her head into her pillow, soaking it with her tears. Something akin to bear claws tore at her heart, shredding it to pieces.

Being in love with a man who didn’t love her back hurt something fierce. Living with him every day was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever come up against. “Lord, give me the grace I need to survive. And I’d be right beholden to You, iffen You’d ease this awful pain in my heart and in Michael’s, too.”

After a few hours of fitful sleep, Selina lit the lantern next to her bed and slid into her garments. She grabbed the lantern in one hand and her boots and stockings in the other and crept down the steps and into the kitchen.

Careful not to make any noise, she made her way down the cellar ladder and cut off a slab of bacon and fetched a couple of eggs before she commenced to fixing breakfast. Coffee, bacon, eggs and fresh flapjack scents made her stomach growl.

Selina stood in front of the dish cabinet. Back home, she had a handmade breadboard counter to hold her dishes. It sort of reminded her of this piece of furniture, but her breadboard counter had a flour bin and several drawers and it didn’t have glass doors like this fancy piece did. Plus, hers was covered with oil cloth and this one had a shiny finish to it. Made her afraid to touch it, it was so fancy. But she didn’t have any choice. Not if she wanted to serve Michael his breakfast.

She opened the door, pulled out a couple of plates and froze at the sight of the dainty blue flowers and leaves. They were blue, not yellow, not pink and not any other color but blue.

Her favorite color.

Sure seemed like someone went to an awful lot of trouble to get dishes with blue in them. But, she sighed, they weren’t meant for her. She set the table and then sat down with a hot cup of coffee. Bowing her head and closing her eyes, she clasped her hands together and said her morning prayers.

“Good morning, Selina.”

Selina yanked her head upward to find Michael standing in front of her with a look of a man who didn’t know what to do.

Bags sagged under his bloodshot eyes. His hair was all muffed up, and his clothes looked as if he’d slept in them.

“Did you sleep well?” Jumpin’ crickets, Selina. That was a stupid question. Anyone could see he ain’t slept but a wink.

His gaze slid over her face. “About as well as you, apparently.”

Selina wished she had stopped in front of the looking glass before she came down. She had no idea what she looked like. Slowly raking a finger through her hair, she stood and put her back to him. Having him study her like that made her skittish. “Can I get you some coffee?” she asked, even though she had already grabbed him a cup and started to fill it.

“Yes, thank you. That would be nice.”

“You just sit yourself down and I’ll fetch ya some vittles.”

Selina placed a plate with four pieces of bacon on it, six biscuits and a small mound of scrambled eggs onto the center of the table.

He looked up at her. “Aren’t you going to have any?”

Selina glanced at the food and frowned. “Yes, sir.” Confused by his question, she lowered herself onto the chair.

Before she could ask more, Michael reached over and clasped her hand in his.

Her attention flew right to him. Warmth spread up her arms and into her body as she yanked her hand away. “Wha—whatcha doin’?”

“Getting ready to pray.” His eyes softened.

“Oh.” She nodded, feeling dumber than a fence post for asking. She slid her hand back across to his.

His eyes drifted shut.

She knew she ought to close her eyes and concentrate on his prayer but her mind took a turn in another direction. While he prayed, she studied his face, wondering if those full lips were as soft as they looked.

Strength flowed through his rough hand even though he held hers with the softest of touch. Having her hand in his felt right nice, a little too nice considering their circumstances.

Her eyes trailed up his arms. Arms with muscles that were so big they pulled at the seams of his shirt sleeves. What would it be like to have him slip them around her and pull her close? Would she ever be close enough to his heart to hear it beating?

Her attention slid up to his eyes. Heat barreled up her neck and her cheeks felt hotter than the red coals in the cook stove over yonder. Just when had Michael stopped praying and caught her stealing her fill of him?

She looked at their hands, jerked hers from his and all but shoved the plate of food in front of him. “You—you’d best start eatin’ before—before it gets cold.”

Eating was the last thing Michael thought about doing right now. When he’d reached for Selina’s hand, the instant he’d made the connection, warmth spread up his arm and slipped into his heart. He had no idea what that was all about nor did he want to know. Confused over what had just happened, he struggled to pull himself together so he could pray.

When he opened his eyes and saw Selina studying his arms and chest, saw the longing on her face, something stirred inside him. That foreign feeling made him vastly uncomfortable.

He rammed his fingers through his hair, but they snagged on some tangles. What had he been thinking coming to the breakfast table without combing his hair first? Even when he lived alone, he groomed himself before sitting down to eat. This whole situation had him so upset and confused he was no longer thinking or acting rationally.

To get his mind off the situation, he looked at the paltry plate of food she had placed on the table. Selina said she hadn’t eaten yet. If they shared what little food was there, that amount wouldn’t hold him long at all. He normally required twice as much as that just to make it until lunchtime.

He didn’t understand why, when he had a cellar full of food, she had made so little. His gaze snagged on the numerous patches scattered on her sleeves. Obviously, Selina had come from poverty. Could that be why she had made so little breakfast? Because that was all she had been able to fix back home?

If that was the case, he didn’t know what to do or how to handle the situation with delicacy. How could he let her know that it was okay to fix plenty here without hurting her feelings or acting like some rich boy throwing his wealth around?

Michael sighed inwardly. He silently prayed and asked God for wisdom concerning this situation. No answer came immediately, so in the meantime, he made do. He piled half of the eggs, three small biscuits and two pieces of bacon on his plate, then he moved the plate in front of her.

“Somethin’ wrong with my cookin’?” She glanced at the center plate and then at his.

“I don’t know. I haven’t tried anything yet. But everything looks and smells real good. Why do you ask?”

“’Cause you only took half of what I fixed.”

“Didn’t you tell me you hadn’t eaten yet?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Well, that’s why I only took half.”

Her forehead wrinkled, and her brown eyes narrowed.

Michael had no idea why she appeared so confused. Women. Who could figure out what they were thinking? No man, that’s for sure.

He picked up his fork, scooped up a mound of eggs and shoved them into his mouth. Flavor, unlike any he had ever tasted before, burst through his mouth. “Umm. These are delicious, Selina. What did you do to them?” He spoke around the eggs, then gathered up another rounded forkful.

She smiled. “Fried them in butter and bacon fat. And added the tops of those things I found down yonder.” She pointed to the cellar. “They looked like the ramps back home, so I took a chance.”

“What’s a ramp?”

“An onion or a leek,” she said as she added one piece of bacon, one biscuit and a small spoonful of the scrambled eggs onto her plate. “Come springtime, you can find them all over the Appalachian Mountains.”

“I see. I’m sure it’s beautiful there.”

“Sure is.” Her face brightened. The woman was definitely easy on the eyes.

“Do you miss home?”

Selina shrugged. “Don’t know. Can’t rightly say. I ain’t been gone long enough to tell.” With only a few bites, Selina finished her meager portion, hoping Michael had gotten enough.

“Have some more.” Michael pushed the rest of the servings toward her.

“Thank you kindly, but I’m done,” she said even though her stomach was pinched with hunger pain and wasn’t near full enough. Then again, it never had been before. Now should be no different.

His eyes, soft and questioning, held hers as strong as a foot stuck in a mud hole. “Are you sure?”

Selina had made the decision, and she wasn’t backing out now. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Michael’s attention stayed on her face a spell before he heaped the rest of the food onto his plate and devoured it within minutes. He looked over at the stove with something akin to longing in his eyes before he averted his attention onto his coffee cup.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Well, I was just wondering something. Before I took the rest of the food you said I only took half of what you’d made. Does that include biscuits, too?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure how many to make. I wanted to stretch the food so we’d have plenty to eat. I’m sorry iffen I didn’t make enough.” She looked down at her hands, fiddling with the patch on her pants leg. She’d wanted to be such a good wife, and already she felt the pain of his disappointment.

Michael’s finger rested under her chin, tugging it upward. “Selina, look at me.” With the gentlest touch, he raised her head, forcing her to look at him, even though she wanted to look everywhere but at him for fear he would see the love she had for him in her eyes.

“I’m a big eater. I want you to know that we have more than enough food. So you can make plenty all the time. And…”

She watched him swallow and draw a breath.

“I want you to eat more, too. What you ate this morning wouldn’t keep a baby chick alive.”

She pulled her eyes away from his intense stare. It hurt to be so close to him, to feel he might care and yet know he didn’t.

His finger dropped from her chin and rested in front her.

She wanted to snatch back his hand and cradle it against her cheek.

To hold it.

To feel its strength.

To enjoy the small pleasures a married woman like her ma had enjoyed.

But that would likely never happen, except in her dreams. And dream she would. No one could steal them from her. So when her head hit the pillow tonight, she’d dream of holding his hand.

Of him wrapping his arms about her and kissing her.

But until then, he was waiting for her answer. “Don’t rightly know iffen I’d be able to. Food was mighty scarce back home. Always made sure my brothers and Pa had enough to eat first. Then I ate what was left. Which was never much. So, I’m used to not eatin’ much. Even with you sayin’ we have plenty, I still can’t help but be scared that iffen I do eat too much more we might not have enough come winter time.”

His eyes trailed over her face, her arms and her body. Well, what he could see of it with her sitting in a chair. Still, his studying her like that made her uncomfortable.

His attention ended on her eyes, and if she weren’t mistaken, pity filled his. And she didn’t like it. Not one little bit. She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her and she’d let him know that. But before she had a chance to tell him so, he hitched his chair back and headed to the pantry.

When he came back he had a copper container with him, sat the thing down in front of her and raised the lid. He reached inside the jar and pulled out a handful of cookies and laid them on her plate and his.

He filled their coffee cups, something she should have thought to do, and then sat down. “Eat,” he ordered with a smile. His face turned serious as he looked at her. “I don’t want you ever worrying about food again, okay, Selina? We have ten dairy cows, a large herd of cattle and hogs, and plenty of chickens and eggs. We grow our own wheat so flour isn’t a shortage, either. Plus, Mother, my sisters, and sisters-in-law all grow large gardens every year. And if something happens to any of the food or gardens, we can go to town and buy some. If worse comes to worst, we’ll have it shipped in by train if necessary. Money is not an object.”

Selina didn’t know what to think. She’d never had such a mess of food before. She glanced at her plate and stared at the sandwiched cookies with the preserves in the middle. They looked mighty good and mighty tempting, too. Putting her fears aside, she decided that for once in her life her belly would take its fill.

Michael took a bite of one of his mother’s syltkakor cookies. He thought about Selina not having enough to eat and how she had given her food to her brothers and her father first and then to some stranger on the train. A woman she’d just met. The very idea of that stirred something deep inside him. He wanted to provide for her and protect her from ever going hungry again.

As she continued to enjoy her cookie Michael used the opportunity to study her. Dark-brown eyelashes, long and full, almost touched the top of her high cheekbones. Her nose had a slight bump in the middle, and her lips were pink, with a few cookie crumbs sprinkled on them.

He reached over to wipe them off. The moment his thumb made contact with her lips, her eyes flew open and she jumped back. “What ya doin’?”

“You had crumbs on your lips.” He flashed her a sheepish smile. “I was just wiping them off for you.”

She swiped her mouth with her hands and then with her sleeve. With one eye slit, she tilted to the side. “Much obliged, I’m sure.” She sat as far back into her kitchen chair as possible as if to get away from him. “What kind a cookies are them anyways? They sure are good.”

“They’re syltkakors.”

“Silt a whats?”

“Swedish sandwich cookies.”

“Oh.” That was all she said before taking another bite.

Watching her enjoy every morsel made him realize just how much he had taken for granted. He had always had plenty to eat, a roof over his head and an abundance of clothes. Never had he lacked for anything. But Selina had. And yet she didn’t seem bitter, nor did she complain about her lack. He wondered just how many times in her life she had gone without so another would not. Knowing how poor she was, he was surprised by her generosity. And if he was willing to admit it even to himself, that generosity endeared her to him. Just how he felt about that, he wasn’t sure. But he was sure about one thing. He would definitely find out. That thought both frightened and intrigued him.

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