Page 6 of The Rancher's Wedding

Her father had adopted a harsh tone, sending goosebumps up all over Estelle’s arm. She knew the tone well, though it had been a while since she’d heard it. It was the tone he adopted when she’d misbehaved. It was strange to hear it as an adult.

“No, Father,” Estelle said. “I felt ill.” But her voice betrayed her and, though she knew what she said was the truth, it came out as a lie.

“No matter,” he said, “I will invite him over again, and perhaps several times after that. It is in your best interest to get to know him.”

“And why is that?”

The question left her lips before she realized what she’d said.

Her father raised his voice, ever so slightly, and spoke faster as his emotions began to take hold. This was the way he got when he was not to be questioned.

“Because I am your father and I don’t need to explain myself to you. He’s a very important person to me and it is equally important that he likes you. I’m disappointed in the first impression you made on him and would like for you to apologize and make it up to him. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Father.” It came out as a squeak, only audible because of the pure silence that followed her father asserting his dominance. She felt powerless.

“Good.”

She went to bed that night staring out the window at the moon shining over the city. If her father had his say, she would be marrying Ethan. At the moment, it seemed that Michael was her only chance of escape. She felt as if she could see all of Philadelphia, with people walking up and down on cobblestone streets, lampposts lighting up the sky with their gaseous glow and rendering the stars invisible. It was all so confining to her, just like her corset. She longed to look out the window at an open range, hearing the sounds of the wilderness. There would be a constant murmur of crickets chirping, with the occasional coyote howling in the distance and perhaps a barnyard owl hooting. That could be her life.

Estelle told herself to banish such silly thoughts from her head. The letter was in the mail, and all she could do at this point was pray that he’d respond. There was no reason to expect anything from him in the next few days or even weeks. It may take a minimum of a month to hear back and, during that time, her father was going to become more and more insistent that she and Ethan begin the wedding proceedings. Maybe by the time she received a response, it would be too late.

Or maybe she would never hear from him at all.

Chapter Two

Grafton Town, Utah

The cattle were getting restless, holed up in the barn for so long. Michael looked on and felt for the poor animals. Cows weren’t meant to be inside, but it was just too darned cold for them out in the field during the harsh Grafton Town winters.

It was finally springtime, though, and Michael could move them on out to their pastures where they had more space and all the grass they could eat. It was his favorite time of the year, which isn’t to say that the job wasn’t work. A single cow was a hefty thing, usually weighing at least five hundred pounds or so. Put enough of them together to get a herd and he had dozens of tons of meat that didn’t necessarily go where he told them to.

It required teamwork and, unfortunately, since the accident, teamwork was in something of a short supply at the Holden Ranch. Still, it was a job, and he had to do it every year.

Fortunately, Michael wasn’t working the job completely on his own. He had his two Australian Shepherds, Daisy and Buckley, who helped to fill in where another human on a horse otherwise might.

Still, it was by no means easy. Michael stood outside the barn door beside the two dogs, wiping the sweat off of his brow and adjusting his hat.

“It’s just you two and me,” Michael said to the dogs, who looked at him attentively, eager to please. “We do this, and I’ll be fixin’ you both a nice cut of steak for dinner.”

They obviously couldn’t understand what he was saying, but that was the joy of dogs. People were always expecting something in return, but dogs just did things for the fun of it. Steak or no steak, these two had herding bred into their blood. It was what they were made to do. And that was why Michael knew he could count on them to keep the cows together in a tight bunch as he led them to the enclosed pasture.

The main trick, though, was getting the cattle not to stampede. Michael knew you had to keep everything nice and slow and, above all else, orderly.And,he reminded himself,whatever you do, don’t spook them. You could yell all you wanted and even smack them on the behind if you needed to direct them, but if there was anything louder than that—or, heaven forbid, the sight of a snake—one of the cows could take off. When one took off, the rest followed. And that was when you’d lose control of the several dozen tons of meat.

Michael had to be sure he was ready before he opened the barn. Once he started, he couldn’t stop until he was finished. He’d cleared them a nice clean path to the grass and opened the gate to the field. He’d also painted dark lines enclosing the path—cows weren’t terribly smart and couldn’t distinguish between painted lines on the ground and actual unsurpassable barriers, though this trick would fail to stop them if they started stampeding.

There wasn’t anything left for Michael to do. It’d be a quarter-mile trot and there was other work on the ranch for him to be doing, so he figured the sooner he got started, the better off he’d be. He pulled the lock off the barn door and swung the door open.

Daisy and Buckley ran into the barn, toward the back, and started nipping at the heels of the cows to motivate them forward. Those in front were so excited to see sunlight that they came out on their own, a surprising spring in their step that one might not expect from such a bulky animal.

“Here we go,” Michael said to himself. He ran over to Buttercup, his horse, and jumped on her saddle. With a gentle pull of the reins, she started forward so the two of them could lead the herd.

The two dogs kept the cows in a tight group, circling around them once they’d all left the barn. Things were going according to plan.

Still, that was no excuse for Michael to let down his guard. A perfectly ordered cattle herd could descend into chaos in an instant if even one cow deviated from protocol.

Keeping his horse to a slow trot, Michael continued forward and the cows followed methodically, one hoof at a time, staying together, more or less, in an orderly fashion. Michael kept his eyes peeled for any potential dangers. So long as there wasn’t any thunder or gunshots going off, there shouldn’t be any sounds that would spook the livestock. And, judging by the sun in the cloud-free sky and the fact that Michael was the only human being around for miles—except Jacob, of course—there wasn’t any risk of such loud bangs. That left snakes as Michael’s main concern.

Of course, there was always the unknown factor when dealing with animals, but that was harder—if not impossible—to prevent. Sometimes, for no good reason, one of the cows would just start trotting along a little faster and, like a rubber ball bouncing down the stairs, the whole herd would pick up speed and get out of control. So, even as he was watching forward for snakes or obstacles, Michael also had to keep an eye on the cattle behind him.

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