A Mail-Order Bride Was Returned At The Depot, Until A Cowboy Picked Up Her Trunk And Called Her Wife
Chapter 7
The orphaned calf, whom Willa named Augustus after a character in one of her favorite novels, became her special project. She rose in the night to feed him, spent time each day coaxing him to strength, and gradually won the battle for his survival.
Lucas watched her devotion with quiet approval, occasionally offering advice but mostly leaving her to develop her own approach.
“You’ve got a way with him,” he remarked one afternoon as Augustus, now steadier on his legs, followed Willa around the barnyard like an oversized puppy. “He thinks you’re his mother.”
“I suppose I am, in a manner of speaking,” Willa replied, scratching the calf behind his ears. “We’re both transplants making our way in an unfamiliar world.”
May brought the first harvests from the revitalized garden—radishes, spring onions, and lettuce that added welcome freshness to their meals. Willa took particular pride in serving vegetables she’d grown herself, especially when Lucas commented on the improvement to their usual fare.
“Never thought I’d look forward to eating rabbit food,” he teased as she served a salad alongside the usual beans and beef. “But this is good.”
“Wait until the tomatoes ripen,” she promised. “Then you’ll truly appreciate rabbit food.”
Their easy banter had become a feature of mealtimes, a comfortable exchange that felt increasingly natural. Willa found herself watching for Lucas’s rare smiles, taking satisfaction in drawing them out. For his part, Lucas seemed to linger longer at the table, their conversations extending well past the end of meals.
It was during one such evening, with windows open to catch late spring breeze, that Lucas broached a subject they’d both been avoiding.
“Town’s having a Founders’ Day celebration next weekend,” he said, turning his coffee cup in his hands. “Dance, picnic, the usual festivities. Thought you might like to go.”
Willa looked up from her mending, surprised by the invitation. “As your housekeeper or your wife?”
Lucas met her gaze steadily. “As whatever you’re comfortable with. But people have settled on their own conclusions already. Might as well enjoy the benefits of their assumptions.”
“You mean attending a social event together without causing scandal?”
“Something like that.” He set his cup down. “You don’t have to decide now. Just thought you might enjoy a day away from the ranch. Meet some of the other women in the area.”
Willa considered the offer. She hadn’t left the Double R since their shopping trip weeks ago, and the isolation, while peaceful, occasionally weighed on her.
“I would like that,” she decided. “Though I have nothing suitable to wear for dancing.”
“Mrs. Abernathy at the dress shop might help with that.” Lucas rose from the table. “We can stop there when we go in.”
The prospect of the social event occupied Willa’s thoughts over the next few days. What did it mean that Lucas wanted to present her publicly as his wife? Was it merely practical, as he suggested? Or was there something more behind the invitation?
Her opportunity to visit the dress shop came sooner than expected. Three days later, a rider from a neighboring ranch brought word that Lucas was needed to help with a cattle rustling situation in the eastern foothills. He would be gone at least two days.
“Pedro will stay at the ranch,” Lucas told her as he packed saddlebags for the journey. “I don’t like leaving you alone, but this can’t be helped. These rustlers have hit three ranches already.”
“We’ll manage,” Willa assured him, though she felt a flutter of anxiety at his absence. “Be careful.”
Lucas paused in his preparations, looking at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. “I will.” He hesitated, then added, “When I get back, we should talk. About arrangements for the future.”
Willa’s heart quickened. “What sort of arrangements?”
“More permanent ones, maybe.” His voice was gruff, his attention suddenly very focused on tightening saddle bag straps. “If you’re amenable.”
Before Willa could respond, Pedro appeared at the door to announce that the other ranchers were approaching. The moment for clarity passed, leaving Willa with more questions than answers as she watched Lucas ride away with the group of grim-faced men.
The following day, Pedro offered to drive Willa into town for supplies and to visit the dress shop—a suggestion she readily accepted. The chance to prepare for Founders’ Day celebration, and perhaps for a more significant conversation with Lucas upon his return, was too important to miss.
Mrs. Abernathy welcomed Willa warmly to the dress shop, ushering her into the back room where several ready-made dresses awaited alteration.
“I’ve been hoping you’d come by,” she said, displaying a blue silk gown with modest lace trim. “This just came in from Tucson. Would suit your coloring beautifully.”
Willa touched the fine fabric wistfully. “It’s lovely, but I’m afraid it’s beyond my means.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Abernathy declared. “Lucas Reed can well afford to dress his wife properly for Founders’ Day. Everyone will be in their finest.”
“I’m not actually—” Willa began, then stopped. What was she, exactly? Not Lucas’s wife in truth, but something more than a mere employee. After these weeks of shared meals and conversations, of working side by side to build something on the Double R…
Mrs. Abernathy misinterpreted her hesitation. “My dear, no one cares about the technicalities out here. Half the marriages in the territory started without benefit of clergy. What matters is the commitment between two people.” She lowered her voice. “And from what I hear, Reed’s never shown interest in any woman before you arrived. That speaks volumes.”
Willa allowed herself to be persuaded to try on the dress, which fit as if made for her with only minor adjustments needed to hem and waist. The reflection in Mrs. Abernathy’s mirror showed a transformed woman—not the abandoned mail-order bride in travel-worn clothes, but a composed, elegant figure who looked as if she belonged.
“Lucas won’t be able to take his eyes off you,” Mrs. Abernathy predicted as she pinned the hem.
“It’s not like that between us,” Willa protested weakly.
The older woman smiled knowingly. “Not yet, perhaps. But I’ve been watching men and women find each other for forty years, my dear. There’s something there, whether you’ve acknowledged it or not.”
Willa couldn’t deny the flutter in her stomach when she thought of Lucas seeing her in the blue silk, or of his cryptic words about more permanent arrangements. Was it possible that what had begun as a pragmatic solution for both of them had evolved into something more meaningful?
On the ride back to the ranch, with the dress carefully boxed and stowed in the wagon, Willa found herself looking at the Double R with new eyes. The modest house with its newly curtained windows, the garden beginning to flourish, the corral and outbuildings—all of it had become familiar, even dear to her over the past weeks.
Could it truly become her home, not just her workplace?
Lucas returned late the following day, dusty and weary but unharmed. The rustlers had been caught and turned over to the territorial marshal, he reported over the supper Willa had kept warm for him.
“Three men from up north thought they could make easy money stealing cattle from isolated ranches,” he explained between bites of stew. “Won’t be trying that again anytime soon.”
“I’m glad you’re safe,” Willa said sincerely. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Jim Coulton took a bullet in the arm, but the doctor says he’ll mend.” Lucas’s expression softened as he looked at her across the table. “The house feels different when you’re here. Better.”
The simple statement warmed Willa more than any flowery compliment could have. “I went to town with Pedro yesterday,” she told him, changing the subject to hide her flustered reaction. “Mrs. Abernathy helped me find a dress for Founders’ Day.”
Lucas smiled. “Good. I want you to enjoy yourself.” He set down his fork. “Willa, about what I said before I left—”
A crash from the barn interrupted him, followed by Pedro’s shout. Lucas was on his feet immediately, grabbing his hat and striding toward the door.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “Could be those rustlers’ friends come looking for revenge.”
Willa’s heart pounded as she watched through the window. Lucas and Pedro converged on the barn, rifles ready, their tense postures suggesting real danger. After what seemed an eternity but was probably only minutes, they relaxed.
Lucas returned to the house, his expression relieved but annoyed. “Just a raccoon that got into the feed storage. Knocked over a stack of crates trying to escape.”
The interruption had broken the moment, and Lucas didn’t return to the subject of arrangements that evening. Willa went to bed with a mixture of disappointment and anticipation, wondering what Founders’ Day might bring.