Page 4 of Marrying the Billboard Cowboy

But something deep within whispered to breathe, to find a sliver of grace even in this madness. Gideon had just been tryingto help, and he even knew exactly when his brother had gotten the idea.

Their discussion about Dad’s crazy inheritance rules had only happened two weeks ago. They both had other dreams to chase but felt tied to the ranch by their dad’s expectations. They’d agreed that getting married was the easy solution. When they got married, they would become one-third owner of Redemption Ranch. And as owner, he could choose to be the chef at Redemption Lodge, instead of being defaulted to Ranch Manager.

He spotted Gideon across the ranch and yelled his name. Gideon looked around, as though hoping he could escape. “Don’t even think about it,” Zeke hollered above the wind. There was no way he was letting his brother get away with this nonsense.

Gideon’s shoulders slumped, and he trudged toward him.

“You have something you want to tell me?” Zeke asked, holding up the mail in one hand.

Gideon grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Would you believe me if I said I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

Zeke narrowed his eyes. Gideon raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, fine. It was me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Zeke’s words quickly turned into a rant. “You had no right to interfere in my life.” He took a breath to continue yelling at his younger brother, but Gideon interrupted.

“It started as a joke, Z. But,” he shrugged, “it kind of spiraled on me.”

Zeke gave a humorless laugh, holding up the dozens of letters in his hand. “You don’t say,” he said sarcastically. “You’ve gone too far this time, Gid.”

Gideon winced. “I’m sorry. I just thought it would be a good laugh. I never expected,” he glanced at the letters, “all that. Or the news coverage.”

Zeke’s eyebrows lifted. “News coverage?”

Gideon’s eyes widened. “Oh, uh... yeah. It may have gotten a bit of attention. I actually had to chase a reporter from the ranch the other day.”

A sigh escaped him and he growled at his brother as he stretched out an arm, aiming to get a hand around Gideon’s shoulder.

Gideon flashed a smile and ducked out of reach. “Laugh it off, bro. You don’t smile enough.” Then, Gideon jogged away, his laughter rolling over the open field as he headed back to the barn.

“Get it taken down, Gideon!”

With another sigh, Zeke let go of the anger, releasing it like a hawk into the vast Colorado sky. Gideon was impulsive and almost never took things too seriously. But Zeke loved him all the same. And the billboard would come down in a few days. He’d make sure of it.

Curiosity at the letters got the best of him. The first envelope crinkled under his calloused fingers as he tore it open. Inside, a neatly typed letter unfolded, the words of a stranger seeking a life change. “You’re so handsome,” one proclaimed. He rolled his eyes. As though physical attraction were enough to build a life on.

“I can’t ride a horse, but I would definitely ride a cowboy!” The exclamation point had a heart at the bottom. He grimaced, disgusted by the cheap feeling it had given him.

A new wave of frustration at his brother flooded him with each letter. Most of them were easily dismissed, women looking for money or an easy life of luxury after googling his name. And he wasn’t foolish enough to go through that again. Too manywere looking for a forever love, but he was no romantic. Some tried to convince him they loved horses, but it was obvious they’d never met one.

His fingers, calloused from ranch work, paused on a particular letter. It didn’t even have an envelope, just a single sheet of paper, taped shut. It held more weight in his hands than he anticipated.

“Ezekiel,” the letter began, typed and printed. “Life is a series of choices,” he read, “and today I’m making one that could change everything. I’m a Christian first, a dreamer second, and mostly, a woman who has known more struggles than triumphs. And made more mistakes than I can count.”

The honesty in those opening lines caught Zeke off guard. Here was no pretense of perfection, no grand promises of love at first sight—just the candid admission of vulnerability. He leaned back against the barn wall, the rough wood pressing into his broad shoulders, and read on.

The woman wrote of her resilience, of days spent searching for work with little to show for it but the resolve to keep trying. The hurt she felt when those she loved abandoned her, leaving her with nothing but a faith in the Lord.

She spoke vaguely of making huge mistakes but having no regrets with a tenderness that seeped through the ink. Unlike many of the other letters, there were no photos attached, but Zeke found he didn’t need them.

Her words painted a portrait of strength worn down by circumstance yet not defeated.

It was signed “Hopefully, Kaitlyn.”

He imagined Kaitlyn’s eyes held a thousand untold stories, moving through the world with quiet determination. Her hint of sass, evident even in the polite phrasing of the letter, suggested a spirit that refused to give up, no matter what life threw her way.

A soft sigh escaped him. She seemed so different from the others, women who spoke of fairytale endings and romantic escapades.

“Maybe it’s time to take a risk,” he considered, the protective hero within him stirring at the thought of offering shelter to someone as battle-scarred as himself.

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