North Central Texas, 1875: When Delta Dandridge shows up claiming to be Cooper Thorne's mail-order bride, he scrambles to set her straight. The tempestuous woman makes him see red and at the same time, challenges all his vows to remain a bachelor.
It was strange how a day could go south quicker than a steam locomotive on a downhill slope.
Cooper Thorne drew his black hat farther down on his forehead and reflected on that fact as he rode across his ranch land, trying to recapture the good mood he'd enjoyed before his morning turned into an unholy mess.
He kneed Rebel into a trot and navigated a small rise before reining the powerful buckskin to a halt to take in the breathtaking sunrise. This was his favorite vantage point from which to gaze out over the gently rolling hills that comprised the Long Odds Ranch.
Tall cliffs bordered the six hundred and forty acres on three sides. The only way to enter his spread was from the east. He felt safe here.
It had taken blood and sweat and dogged determination to get where he was. Fair to say he'd been through hell and come out the other side to claim this life for his own.
He rested his elbow on the saddle horn and took in the view.
This wild Texas land was his home. For the first time in his almost thirty years, he'd truly found a place to belong. It felt right, and his soul was at peace at last.
Or as much as it ever would be.
The rich black soil that could raise fine crops or prime cattle was now in his blood. It had put back together his broken dreams.
He'd chomped at the bit to get out and put his hands to work…until he got to breakfast. Mack Malone, the cook he'd hired a month ago, had burned the biscuits, charred the eggs, and mangled the flapjacks. Then his horse threw a shoe and Cooper had to round up the ranch blacksmith to put a new one on. And to make matters worse, one of his ranch hands up and quit with branding about to start. All before dawn. He needed this moment of peace before heading back to work.
His middle brother, Rand Sinclair, sat cooling his heels on the porch when Cooper finally made it back to the house sometime that afternoon.
"Don't I know it." Cooper led the way to the kitchen table.
Rand owned the Lily of the West in the nearby town of Battle Creek. Their younger brother, Brett Liberty, had acquired the Wild Horse Ranch, five miles as the crow flies from the Long Odds Ranch, though it was more like seven or eight if you traveled by road.
"They don't need me for that. It'll happen whether I'm there or not." A big grin stretched from ear to ear and devilment twinkled in Rand's blue eyes. He leaned back as though very satisfied with himself.
"You know better than that. Wipe that grin off your face before I knock it off," Cooper growled.
"Yeah, I don't reckon you'd be mixed up in something like this. But someone sure the hell brought her here and put her up to this." Either that, or the woman had hatched the scheme all by herself. Maybe she was looking for some easy money and thought Cooper would pay her off to leave.
Well, the joke would be on her. Cooper had little money, easy or otherwise. What he got he turned around and put right back into the ranch. All except for the nest egg he'd put aside to buy the Zachary place that neighbored his property. He almost had enough saved, and then the better portion of the valley would be his.
If that wasn't just dandy! The day that had begun with such promise had certainly gone to hell in a handbasket fifteen ways from Sunday.
And who in the hell had a name like Delta?
Delta tried to still the tremor in her hands as she stepped onto the porch of Mabel's Boardinghouse. She breathed the crisp morning air.
That Mr. Thorne hadn't seen fit to meet her stage yesterday still smarted. Alone, with only a stranger to guide her, she'd taken a room here at the boardinghouse rather than the dark, dreary hotel that had sent a sense of foreboding shivering up her spine.
Yet, here he was, a few feet away.
He turned and Delta's breath caught in her throat. My goodness, he was quite impressive. Tall and lean, there was a rugged quality about him from his chiseled features down to boots that had many miles on them. And a good deal of cow manure, if she wasn't mistaken. His dark gray shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders, and the black Stetson that shaded his eyes had seen better days.
Yet it was the deadly Colt on his hip that gave her pause. He appeared a man to be reckoned with. Everything about him was hard and unyielding and put her in mind of someone who'd never known any kind of softness. For a moment, it took her aback. She wondered if she could please him.
White-hot anger swept over Delta. It was one thing to spurn her, but calling her a liar made her mad enough to fight. Yanking the packet of letters from her pocket, she thrust them into his hands.
Delta went very still. Slowly, her situation began to sink in. There would be no marriage. She was stuck in Battle Creek, Texas, with an empty purse and no prospects. She blinked back the tears that threatened to spill and humiliate her even further.
With that, she jerked the letters from his hand and strode into the boardinghouse with her head held high.