Page 21 of The Rancher's Mail-Order Husband

Annie raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You got married? When?”

Graham smiled softly. “Nine days ago, now.”

“Well, congratulations.” Annie’s tone was warm, but the twinkle in her eye was unmistakable. “Let’s see if I can’t find you a horse, then.”

As they walked toward the stables, Graham explained what he needed. “I need something strong enough for farm work, but not too large. And it’s got to have a gentle temperament. My husband doesn’t know how to ride yet, but he wants to learn. I’ll be giving him lessons, so the horse needs to be patient.”

The mention of Ciarán’s lack of riding experience seemed to take Annie by surprise. “He doesn’t know how to ride? How’s he going to work on the ranch?”

Graham felt his chest tighten, as if his protective instincts were rising to the surface. “I’ll teach him,” he said firmly. “He wants to learn. He’s been a big help already.”

Annie blinked, a moment of understanding dawning in her eyes. “Easy now, son. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just surprised, is all. I don’t know many people around here who don’t know how to ride a horse.”

Graham shrugged. “He was living in New York. I figure you can just walk wherever you need to go there.”

Annie took a thoughtful moment, letting the information sink in. Then she nodded, impressed. “He came all the way from New York? Damn. He must’ve been real sweet on you, huh?”

Graham’s face flushed red again, and he could feel the heat rising to his neck. It seemed that everyone in town had a way of making him blush these days. He cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “Well, I don’t know about that,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling all sorts of self-conscious.

Annie chuckled. “I think I know the feeling. Anyway, let’s see what we’ve got for you.”

It didn’t take long before she found a mare that fit the bill. A piebald, not too large but strong enough for work, with a gentle nature. Graham inspected her closely. She seemed like a good fit for the ranch, and from the way she nuzzled his hand, he could tell she had a sweet temperament.

After a brief exchange of terms, a lighter purse, and some reluctant goodbyes, Graham left the Duncan ranch with his new horse—a lighter load of money and a freshly reddened face. Mrs. Duncan had kept him on edge with her directness and the way she effortlessly dug into him with her observations. But in the end, he had what he needed. He was ready to head back home, where Ciarán was waiting.

The ride back to the ranch was quieter than the one into town, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon. Graham couldn’t help but smile, thinking of how excited Ciarán would be to meet their new addition to the family.

???

The ride back to town was uneventful, and Graham couldn’t have been happier for it. He encountered no one, so he didn’t have to listen to any of the usual rumors or comments about his relationship with Ciarán. He could just focus on the quiet, peaceful day, and that was a rare kind of gift. The sun shone brightly, not too harshly, and the breeze was cool without being uncomfortable. A perfect afternoon for wandering around town. Graham didn’t have a specific plan in mind for meeting up with Ciarán, but considering it was well past noon, he figured the restaurant would be as good a place as any to start looking.

He made his way down the street, passing open windows in nearly every building as he went, the sounds of the town drifting out in the warm air. When he arrived at the restaurant, he spotted the back of Ciarán’s head right away. The unmistakable mop of curls that always made him smile. As he neared the window, his hand already raising to wave, Graham stopped short when he realized someone inside had already caught his husband’s attention.

"You're newly arrived?" It was Jean Lachapelle’s smooth, drawling voice. "You must be. I know everyone in this town. And I wouldn't forget a face like yours."

Graham frowned, noticing the tone and the way Jean had leaned in. Ciarán was still and quiet for a moment before answering, sounding a little uncertain. “Yes, sir, Mr. Lachapelle. I—”

"Where have you been hiding?" Jean’s voice was sharp now, like he’d made up his mind about something.

Ciarán’s response came, hesitant but polite. "Oh, I haven't been hiding. I was...um, on my honeymoon. I was just married last week. Well, a little more than a week. Nine—nine days now, actually."

"Married? And you decided to honeymoon here?" Jean laughed softly, a sound that didn’t sit well with Graham.

"No, no!" Ciarán laughed nervously. "Well, sort of, I came here to meet my husband—he has a ranch—we were sending letters, and he has such a way with—but, you know everyone in town? Do you know my husband? Graham Shepherd?"

Graham’s heart sank. He could hear the unease in Ciarán’s voice, and it made him bristle. His feet moved before his mind could fully catch up. He pushed open the door with more force than he intended, boots clattering loudly against the worn wooden floor as he stepped inside. Ciarán looked up, his eyes widening as he saw him approach.

“What have you been up to?” Graham asked, trying to sound casual, though he could feel the tightness in his chest. His gaze quickly shifted to the bulging chicken feed bag at Ciarán’s feet, now filled with whatever he had purchased during his walk through town. He noticed Ciarán still had half a sandwich left, some apple slices, and a couple of oatmeal cookies on his plate.

With a glance toward Jean, who hadn’t moved an inch, Ciarán smiled a little awkwardly. “I bought a few things. And I walked around town a little bit. Then I came here to wait for you. I saved you some lunch, if you wanted.”

Graham gave him a soft smile, his irritation easing just a touch. “Thank you.” But his gaze drifted back to Jean, who still hadn't budged.

"You got some business here?" Graham asked, his tone curt as he addressed Jean for the first time since entering.

Jean leaned back in his chair, a smug look crossing his face as he sneered. “As it just so happens, I’m in town on business. I thought I might have a bite to eat, but now I seem to have lost my appetite.” He leaned in, his lip curling. “Congratulations on your marriage. I see the only way for you to get a husband was to buy one. Must’ve cost you a pretty penny—but the boy’s pretty enough himself. Better than a washed-up old soldier deserves.”

Graham’s blood ran cold at the words. Anger surged up like a wildfire, hot and fast. He opened his mouth to retort, to give the man a piece of his mind, but before he could even speak, Ciarán cut in.

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