Choose Any Woman You Want, Cowboy,’ the Sheriff Said — There Was Only One He Was Looking At

Chapter 4

The words cut through the square like a blade.

Gasps. Sharp and sudden. Then laughter erupted, rolling across the people like thunder. “Her? He chose her?” “You can’t be serious.” “Out of all the girls, he picked that one?”

Hannah’s heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands trembled at her sides, fingers curling into fists. She dared not look up. She couldn’t. If she looked up and saw the mockery in his eyes, she would shatter.

The sheriff raised an eyebrow, half amused, half satisfied. “So be it. The choice is made. Witness it all.”

He struck his boot against the wooden platform with a heavy stamp, sealing the decision. The laughter didn’t stop. Men slapped their knees. Women covered their mouths to hide their smirks. Children pointed, whispering.

Hannah’s mother turned away, covering her face with her hand.

That sight pierced Hannah deeper than every cruel word the crowd had hurled at her. Her own mother couldn’t bear to watch. She felt small, exposed, reduced to nothing by a hundred voices that drowned out the only one that mattered.

The cowboy stood tall, unflinching. He didn’t smile. He didn’t defend his choice. He simply stood by it. The crowd cheered louder, expecting him to crack, to laugh, to admit it was a joke. But he didn’t. And that silence unsettled them more than anything.

The sheriff motioned toward the church steps. “It’s done. Let it be recorded.”

No one cheered. No one clapped. The only sound left was the cruel laughter that refused to die down.

Hannah stood frozen, her feet heavy as stone. Her world had shifted in an instant, and she didn’t know whether to fear it or cling to it. The cowboy finally moved — just one step forward, not toward the crowd, but toward her. And though she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, Hannah felt the weight of it. The choice that had changed her life forever.

The sheriff waved them off. “Go on, then. Husband and wife.”

The cowboy stepped down first. His boots thudded against the dirt. He didn’t look at the crowd, didn’t look at her. He just stood waiting. Hannah hesitated, her legs heavy. When she finally moved, the whispers followed like shadows.

“Look at her shuffle.”

“She’s crying already.”

“She doesn’t deserve a man like him.”

Her face burned hotter. She walked beside him, each step heavier than the last. The people parted only to laugh behind their hands as the pair passed. “Poor man, saddled with her.”

The words stung sharper than stones. Hannah dared to glance upward at the cowboy. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed ahead. He gave nothing away. That silence confused her most of all. Was he angry? Ashamed? Regretting every second?

Her chest tightened. She lowered her gaze again, staring at the dust beneath her feet.

The walk through town felt endless. Children giggled. Women whispered. Every corner carried fresh humiliation. By the time they reached the edge of town, Hannah’s tears had already streaked her face. She kept her head down, praying he hadn’t noticed.

The road stretched toward open land. The voices faded behind them. For the first time, the laughter was gone. But the silence between them weighed heavier than any jeer.

She wanted to speak. Just a word. Anything. But fear held her tongue. What could I say? He didn’t want this either.

When the ranch finally came into sight, relief mixed with dread. It was far from town, tucked away, quiet. No crowd here. No laughter. Yet the memory of their voices still rang in her head.

The house was modest but sturdy — wooden walls, a stone chimney, a porch that stretched across the front. A barn stood a short distance away, and beyond it, fields of wheat swayed in the afternoon breeze. It was peaceful. It was isolated. It was everything Hannah needed and everything she feared.

Inside, the cowboy moved about with calm efficiency. He set his hat down on a hook by the door. He lit the lamp on the table. He poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher. Not a single word for her.

Hannah lingered near the door, her fingers twisting in her shawl. Her body trembled with exhaustion, her heart with shame. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know where to go. She didn’t know if she was supposed to speak or stay silent, to work or to wait.

At last, she slipped into a small corner of the house and sat down on the floor, her back against the wall. The tears she had held back all day finally poured. She pressed her hands to her face, her shoulders shaking.

I’ve ruined his life. They were right. I don’t belong to anyone.

The walls around her heard what no one else would. Her broken sobs muffled into the quiet of the house. She cried until her throat burned and her eyes were raw, until there was nothing left inside her but hollow emptiness.

And yet, even as despair wrapped itself around her like a cold blanket, one thought flickered faintly in the darkness.

He didn’t mock me. Not once.

That small spark, too fragile to name, was the only warmth she carried into the night.