Her shoulders rose and fell. Her breath puffed out. “I guess it won’t provide a reason for you not to marry me, seeing as you’ve already refused to do so. My friend was Poppy’s mother.” She swallowed hard and blinked twice. “Poppy was born of her immoral life.”
Zach examined each word for its meaning. “Immoral life? You mean she was a…” He sought for a polite way of saying it.
“A soiled dove.” Her rock-hard gaze held his like a vise—waiting for his response. She pulled Poppy harder to her chest. “This child carries the shame of it. That’s why I didn’t stay in Righteous. The people there would not accept her. The men either rejected me or thought I was like Callie. That’s my friend. Grandmother said I should seek marriage elsewhere. She thought I should keep the truth of Poppy’s mother a secret, but I can’t do that. All I ask is that, whether you find that taints her in your sight or not, you keep the facts to yourself. I know I can trust you to do that.” She gasped. “I’m basing that on what I know of you from your letters, but here I am trusting a man I don’t know.”
He wanted to argue, but what could he say? She thought she knew him from correspondence someone sent posing as him.
Who sent those letters? And why? Wasn’t his life complicated enough already?
He raised his eyes toward heaven, though he didn’t—not for one moment—think God had written them.
All the same, He could have prevented the writing if He had a mind to. If He had a care for Zach’s peace of mind.
Chapter Two
The knowledge that she’d left every bit of security to journey west on a false belief and was now riding into a situation fraught with all sorts of dangers left Amelia stunned and immobile.
I will trust and not fear.
She mentally repeated the words over and over. It was easy to trust God. Easy to trust the Zach she’d grown to know through his letters. But this Zach? Who was he?
They arrived at the ranch, and she took in her surroundings with a sense of familiarity. The house—just as it had been described to her. A two-story log structure. Not overly large, but warm and homey. The logs weathered to gray. To her left, the barn, the corrals, and beyond that, the bunkhouse…
Where we have up to a dozen men in the spring and fall for the roundup. Ours is the oldest ranch in the area. My father moved here, the first man to believe this country could sustain cattle. Cattle, in his opinion, were a more certain way of making money than looking for gold.
Next to the bunkhouse stood the cookhouse, which she understood would not now be in use. The men would be out, and their meals prepared at the chuck wagon.
So many details that she knew. And had anticipated seeing firsthand. In her dreams, Zach had taken her to see every sight. There had been picnics?—
Well, that wasn’t to be.
She had yet to discover what lay ahead —except uncertainty. With effort, she filled her lungs and pushed aside her concerns, though she didn’t quite succeed in quelling the tremors racing across her arms.
Zach pulled up to the house, then glanced toward the corrals, and groaned. “Kathy,” he yelled, causing Poppy to jump and whimper. “Get away from that horse.”
A girl stood by the rail fence. Dressed in dungarees and a faded red shirt with a cowboy hat, almost taming the mane of black hair tangled around her shoulders. As she turned, the hat fell to her back. She saw Amelia, and her eyes widened. Then she shot Zach a look overflowing with anger and defiance. She grabbed the bridle hanging from the fence and climbed to the top rail.
In the corral, a horse snorted and pawed the ground.
“Wait here,” Zach said. “While I drag my little sister away from certain death.” He ran across the yard and scooped up Kathy before she could swing both legs over the fence.
He held her under his arm and headed back to the wagon while she kicked and swung her fists, pummeling his back. Each blow sounded a whack, but he seemed impervious.
“Put me down, you big, overgrown hunk of stupidity.”
While Zach remained undeterred, the struggle brought amusement to Amelia’s lips, though she was careful not to let either of them see it.
“Don’t talk to me about stupid.” Zach breathed hard, perhaps as much from anger as from the effort of holding her. “I told you to leave that horse alone. He’s wild. It will take an experienced man to break him.”
“I’ll be experienced once I’ve ridden him.”
Did the girl realize how foolish—and daring—those words were?
“No. You’ll be dead or crippled. And I sure don’t need either one.”
Amelia climbed down and set Poppy on the ground beside her. The child clung to Amelia’s side as the pair wrangled their way across the yard.
“I told you. I intend to be a cowboy. The sooner you accept that, the sooner I can get on with my plans.”
