Page 26 of The Rancher's Mail-Order Husband

The exchange left Graham thinking. Whoever had taken the Duncans’ horses had done it with purpose. This wasn’t a simple case of wandering animals. And in a small town likeLarkspur, where crime wasn’t common, that meant someone had a plan—and that plan was just beginning to unfold.

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After Ciarán had been welcomed into nearly every household in Larkspur for afternoon tea, their day was coming to a close. The small town seemed to embrace him with open arms, and Ciarán had handled the attention with his usual warmth and charm. But as they finally said their goodbyes, Graham couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. The social whirl had been a lot, and now it was time to return to the peace and quiet of their home.

“You don’t want to go into town?” Graham asked, his voice carrying the weight of a long day.

Ciarán shook his head. “No, no. That’s okay. I’m a bit tired.”

Graham understood. He was tired, too. It had been a long day, full of introductions and small talk, and though it had been nice to see Ciarán so embraced by the town, the thought of retreating to the sanctuary of their home was a welcome one. They both needed a break. He longed to change out of his formal clothes and slip back into the comfort of his work clothes, the kind that didn’t pinch or scratch.

Outside the church, the gossip had run rampant, as it always did in a small town. But what had really bothered Graham was the news about the Duncans' stolen horses. It gnawed at him, his mind running through the possibilities. The thief had taken two prized animals, and Graham knew the Duncans were no fools—they wouldn’t just let their livestock wander off without a trace. If the thief had stolen them, then they would need to be found. The idea of someone trespassing on his property to steal livestock—his livelihood—was something Graham couldn’t stomach. He’d have to be more vigilant, keep a closer eye on his own herd. Losing a cow or a sheep to theft would be a blow, not just to his income but to his heart. Each animal was more than a profit; it was a part of his family.

And there was more at stake now. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had Ciarán to think about. It wasn’t just his land or his animals he had to protect. It was Ciarán, too. The thought of someone trying to harm him—stealing what was rightfully his, or worse—made something dark and protective stir in Graham’s chest. A guard dog, maybe. A loyal, fierce creature that would keep an eye on the house while they were away. It might even put a smile on Ciarán’s face. He pictured a dog—big enough to guard the place, but not too big to be manageable. Maybe someone nearby had a litter. A dog like that would be a good companion, a protector, and would keep Ciarán safe when Graham wasn’t around.

But then, just as the thoughts were beginning to settle in his mind, Ciarán’s voice broke the quiet.

“Did I do something wrong?” Ciarán blurted out, his words soft but filled with an undercurrent of worry.

The question caught Graham off guard, making him turn his head sharply toward his husband. “What—what would you have done wrong?” he asked, the confusion evident in his voice.

“I don’t know, Graham. That’s why I’m asking you,” Ciarán said, his gaze distant, eyes focused on his hands. “You were so tense at church. So—uncomfortable. Did I—did I embarrass you in some way?”

Graham blinked, completely taken aback by the question. He had thought Ciarán had been too wrapped up in the service to notice his discomfort. “No! Why would you—you wouldn’t ever—you’re so—I’m more likely to embarrass you,” hestammered, his face flushing with panic at the idea that he might have made Ciarán feel anything less than welcome.

Ciarán’s brow furrowed slightly, his voice soft as he spoke again. “I don’t see how,” he murmured, his fingers nervously fiddling with the buttons on his waistcoat. “You’re an established, successful rancher and a respected member of the community, and I’m… an Irishman who was doing piecemeal work in New York.” He gave a sad, self-deprecating smile and shrugged. “I just—don’t know if I belong here.”

Graham’s heart clenched at the words. He leaned in, taking Ciarán’s hands in his. “You’re selling yourself short. And thinking too highly of me,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “There wasn’t—there’s nothing wrong with you. We’ve talked about this before, Ciarán. I’m real happy you’re here. Happiest I’ve been in a long, long time.”

The faint blush that appeared on Ciarán’s face told Graham that he was still struggling with the doubt in his own heart. “Then what was on your mind at church today?” Ciarán asked, his voice small, almost hesitant.

Graham sighed, the weight of the truth pressing down on him. He knew he couldn’t lie to Ciarán anymore, couldn’t let him carry the worry that he’d somehow done something wrong. “Ciarán,” he began, his voice quiet but steady. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Graham,” Ciarán replied, though the puzzlement in his eyes deepened.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day. It’s been eating at me,” Graham said, holding the reins tighter in his hands. “I never meant to lie to you, but I did. And I’m sorry for it.”

Ciarán’s eyes widened in surprise. “Lied? About what?” he asked, a thread of concern creeping into his voice.

Graham paused for a moment before continuing. “Today was the first time I’ve been to a church service in years. Notsince—well, the war.” He let out a breath. “And that wasn’t—you know, we were out on the battlefields and in camps, and it was just all us soldiers and—well, it wasn’t the same. I didn’t—today wasn’t anything like I remembered, or what I expected. I didn’t understand most of it. I didn’t feel comfortable there.”

For a while, Ciarán was silent, his gaze thoughtful as he processed the words. The only sound was the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the path, and the occasional rattle of the buggy as they made their way back to the ranch. Graham’s stomach tightened as he waited for a response, unsure of what Ciarán would say.

Finally, Ciarán spoke, his voice quiet but gentle. “Then—why did you take me to church today?” he asked, his eyes searching Graham’s face.

Graham frowned, a little confused by the question. “Because you wanted to go,” he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You asked—how could I refuse?”

Ciarán blinked, a little taken aback by the response. “You got up and got ready for church just for me? After all this time?”

“Yeah,” Graham replied simply, his voice quieter now.

“Why?” Ciarán’s voice was full of wonder, his eyes wide and awestruck as he looked at Graham.

Graham shifted uncomfortably in his seat, flustered by the question. “Because I want you to be happy here. I want you to stay. I want you to—want to stay,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Ciarán smiled, his hand covering Graham’s. He squeezed it gently, his eyes warm. “Graham, I—of course I want to stay. I’m very happy here. I promise. Sometimes I wonder if—” He stopped himself, his face flushing pink as he turned away slightly, embarrassed.

“Wonder if what?” Graham asked, his curiosity piqued.

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