Page 3 of Marrying the Billboard Cowboy

With a steadying breath, she clicked the big red button and began, the clack of the keyboard punctuating the silence around her.

“Ezekiel,” she typed, the name foreign yet oddly comforting on her tongue. Every letter was a step toward the unknown, a dance with destiny she never imagined she’d entertain.

“Life is a series of choices,” she wrote, her heart threading through each word, “and today I’m making one that couldchange everything.” Her fingertips paused, trembling with the weight of her confession. “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.”

Her thoughts spilled onto the screen, candid and raw. She told of sleepless nights and ceaseless worries. She spoke of faith that wavered but never broke, of strength carved from trials and knowing a love that eclipsed all fear.

She didn’t mention Stetson. Maybe it was wrong to hide that part of her story, but she needed to protect her son. And what kind of man would voluntarily choose a woman with that kind of baggage?

“Maybe you’re seeking someone who can weather storms beside you, someone who understands that life isn’t always sunshine and smooth sailing. I don’t know much about ranch life, but I know about hard work and holding onto hope when it’s all you have left.”

As she concluded the letter, her fingers stilled, her spirit caught between the safety of the present and the leap into tomorrow. “If by some miracle you find my words resonate with you, then maybe we can offer each other something rare: a fresh start.”

With a final click, she sent the message to the printer, then asked the librarian for a stamp and a piece of tape. She signed the letter and dropped in the outgoing mail with a prayer, carrying with it the fragile beginnings of possibility. A ghost of a smile touched her lips.

2

The day rolled out like countless others before it—full of hard work, small victories, and the steady pulse of Redemption Ridge.

Zeke Reynolds moved down the line of stalls, each step deliberate, the rhythm of his boots on the packed earth mingling with the contented chewing of the horses. The scent of hay was rich in his nostrils, mingling with the earthy musk of the animals he tended to with a reverence that came from years of stewardship.

A shadow passed across the stable floor as Zeke straightened up, his gaze following the familiar path worn into the ground by countless boots before his. Scratches and nicks on the wooden stalls told stories of past seasons, of storms weathered and calm days cherished. He respected each mark as a piece of history, a testament to the Reynolds’ commitment to tradition. Even if he didn’t want to be a rancher forever, he respected the ranch, the animals, and the legacy it held.

He reached for the feed bucket, the grains shifting and rustling as he scooped them out methodically. Each horse knew the routine—two scoops in the morning, one at dusk, fresh wateralways. Zeke’s father had drilled these protocols into him, the importance of consistency and order not just for the sake of efficiency, but for the wellbeing of their charges.

“Old ways have their place, don’t they?” Zeke ran a hand along the mare’s flank, feeling the warmth of her coat beneath his palm. The urge to innovate, to create dishes that tantalized the senses, itched within him like an unscratchable spot on his back. Yet here, amidst the comforting rhythms of ranch life, those desires often felt like a betrayal, an abandonment of the legacy he was meant to uphold.

“Maybe one day,” he muttered, allowing himself a fleeting vision of a bustling kitchen, aromas of garlic and rosemary in the air. But the clang of a metal gate swinging shut snapped him back to reality, back to duty and the path laid out before him.

With a final pat to the mare, Zeke set the empty feed bucket aside and checked the latch on the stall door. Redemption Ridge demanded his full attention, at least for now. But tucked away in the corner of his heart, the simmering passion for culinary arts stayed warm. Someday, he’d be out from under his father’s thumb. Perhaps, even carry his approval as he undertook something new.

The evening sun cast long shadows across the dusty yard, and the air was filled with the earthy scent of horse and leather. Across the ranch, the rhythmic sound of hooves against soil mixed with the distant lowing of cattle.

“Zeke!” Cassie’s voice cut through the sounds of the ranch, her silhouette approaching from the direction of the main house. His sister waved a thick stack of envelopes in her hand—a peculiar sight that furrowed Zeke’s brow.

“Whatcha got there?” he called out, crossing the yard to meet her.

“Mail,” she said, thrusting the bundle into his arms. “Lots of it.”

“Mail?” He turned the envelopes over in his hands, puzzled. They were all addressed to him—Ezekiel Reynolds—with handwriting ranging from elegant curls to hurried scrawls. “Why so much?”

“Guess you haven’t seen it yet.” There was a mischievous twinkle in Cassie’s eyes that Zeke didn’t trust. “Gideon put up a billboard.”

“A billboard?” Zeke’s confusion morphed into a growing sense of dread. Gideon had been on him about settling down, but surely, he wouldn’t—

“Yep, advertising for a bride for our dear brother Ezekiel,” Cassie confirmed with a grin.

“Advertising for a—” Zeke’s voice caught in his throat as his heart sank. Anger bubbled inside him like a pot left too long on the stove. “He did what?”

“He thought it was a hoot.” She shrugged, seemingly unfazed by his rising temper.

“I’m going to throw him off the cliff.” Zeke’s words came out clipped, sharp as the edge of a newly honed blade.

“Lighten up, Zeke. Maybe it’s God’s way of answering your prayers. I certainly never expected the way He answered mine.” Cassie nudged him playfully before turning back toward the house.

Zeke rolled his eyes at her comment. Just because she’d ended up in a whirlwind of a marriage to one of their ranch hands last year didn’t mean everyone got that kind of crazy happy ending.

“God’s way or Gideon’s foolishness?” Zeke muttered under his breath, glaring at the pile of potential heartaches in his hands. He loved his adventure-seeking prankster of a brother, but this had gone too far.

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