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“Nothing,” Carter said, his voice cold.
He lowered his head and pretended to read the newspaper. Thoughts of Catherine, however fluttering, always managed to upset him. She had been the sweetest lady on earth, concerned with others more than herself. She had given him the space to work and build the ranch from where his father had left off.
Losing Catherine had been a blow, but like all other blows that came his way, Carter had borne it and continued with his life, albeit with less enthusiasm. He rarely thought about his son, who had slipped from his mother’s womb without a single breath. It was too painful.
His marriage, like all major milestones in his life, had been planned to the letter. He had married Catherine when he was thirty years old and lost her three years later. Five years was a long time to mourn, but the truth was that Carter would never stop mourning Catherine. He glanced at the words in front of him and on his side; he heard the stomp of Stephanie’s boot as she stalked off.
A gentleman doing good business in the city requires the acquaintance of an intelligent lady, possessed with means and one willing to make a warm home.
Carter chuckled, his earlier stormy mood forgotten. He read a few more adverts and then shut the pages to see the name of the publication. Matrimonial News. He had never heard of it but then it was from the East. He wondered how it had made its way to Montana.
He flipped the pages and returned to the adverts. They intrigued him. The idea intrigued him. It sounded so simple for a man to advertise for the bride he wanted. He looked up and met Stephanie’s pouting lips—A reminder that she was far too young for him. She was twenty-two, though the things she did between the sheets could have put an older, more experienced woman to shame.
Carter sobered up. He really did need a wife. He badly craved an heir, and the sound of little voices filling the huge mansion he called home. He looked at Stephanie again. He would never marry her. For one, he was not in love with her but most of all, there was not much between Stephanie’s ears. Carter would like his wife to be a woman he could hold a decent conversation with during dinner.
Stephanie was good for one thing only. And he had enjoyed it while it lasted, but now was the time to get serious about finding a wife. He glanced at the adverts again. His own requirements would be a moderately intelligent woman and if she was easy on the eyes that would be an extra bonus. He didn’t want love. He had had that already and he knew the chances of finding what he and Catherine had had were very slim. Yes, advertising for a bride was perfect.
There were slim pickings in Crab’s Creek. The ones available worked in the saloon, the one place you were guaranteed to find company for a cold night rather than a woman suitable for marriage. His mood lifted considerably, having made the decision to advertise for a wife.
“Well?” Stephanie asked when she returned to his table.
“I have to get going.”
She stared at him in disbelief, her hand on her waist.
“You haven’t finished your breakfast.”
“I’ve had enough, thank you. Matter of fact, I’d rather be feasting on something else,” Carter said, holding her eye.
She thrust out her chin. “Oh yes?”
He broke the stare and fished out some money from his wallet. He handed over the bills as well as a generous tip. Stephanie slipped it into her pocket without acknowledging the tip. Carter was now impatient to leave.
“Shall I see you Thursday?” she asked.
“Sure,” Carter said, his mind clearly on other things.
“You’ll send the carriage?”
Carted nodded his eyes on the door.
Stephanie clicked her mouth. “I don’t know why I put up with you Carter!”
Carter grinned. “Because you know you can’t have me.”
Stephanie watched him thoughtfully as he strode out of the diner.
Crab’s Creek was T-shaped with the main street containing a row of businesses on either side of the road. Carter walked the small distance to the stables, past the saloon with its swinging double doors. He tipped his hat in greeting to the men he passed on the street. In the stable, he slipped a coin into the stable boy’s hand and waited for him to fetch his horse form the back where there was a grazing patch.
Feeling as if he had wasted a lot of time, Carter urged his horse, Arthur, to a sprint. It would take him at least four hours to get back to the ranch, Carter calculated. He wanted the advert posted that very day. He would compose it and send one of the ranch hands into town to post it.
Impatiently, he spurred Arthur to a greater speed.
Chapter Two
Carter had been galloping home for some time. His heart pounded against his chest. In the distance, great bellows of grey smoke rose up to the skies. Fires in the summer were a catastrophe and he could see that the source of the smoke was the Circle One Ranch.
He squinted his eyes. If he was not mistaken, the fire was on the hill on the northern end of the ranch. The hill, if he remembered correctly was covered in spurge, yellow flowers that were weed and which inhibited the growth of pasture. The pace of his heart dropped when he realized there was no immediate danger to the ranch house.
