They Forced the Rancher to Marry the ‘Old Maid’ — What She Did Next Shook the Whole County

Chapter 5

Clara’s stomach dropped. She’d seen Morrison’s smile before, knew exactly what it meant. He was a predator who fed on other people’s misfortune, and he’d clearly decided that forcing this marriage wasn’t enough.

“I’ll talk to him,” Ethan said, heading for the door.

“Wait.” Clara untied her apron. “Let me come with you.”

“This isn’t your problem.”

“I’m your wife. Legally, that makes it very much my problem.”

They walked out together, not touching, but presenting a united front. Morrison sat on his horse like a king surveying his domain, flanked by two men Clara recognized as his enforcers.

“Ethan,” Morrison said, tipping his hat mockingly. “Mrs. Walker. How lovely you look. Marriage clearly agrees with you.”

“Mr. Morrison,” Clara said coolly. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Just a routine inspection. Need to make sure my investment is being properly maintained.” His eyes swept over the property, cataloging every flaw. “I see the barn needs repairs. And that fence line is looking shabby.”

“Nothing that affects the value of the property,” Ethan said tightly.

“Oh, but it does. You see, I’ve had an offer on this land. A very generous offer.”

“The ranch isn’t for sale.”

“Everything’s for sale at the right price. And when you default on your loan — which, let’s be honest, we both know you will — I’ll be happy to facilitate the transfer.”

Clara stepped forward. “May I see the loan documents, Mr. Morrison?”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“The loan documents. The original agreement my husband signed. I’d like to review them.”

“Whatever for? It’s hardly a woman’s concern.”

“On the contrary. As Ethan’s wife, his debts are now mine. I have every right to understand our financial obligations.”

She held out her hand. Morrison’s face reddened.

“I don’t carry such documents with me.”

“How convenient. Then I suppose this inspection will have to wait until you can produce them. After all, we wouldn’t want any misunderstandings about the terms of the agreement.”

“The terms are simple. He owes me money. If he can’t pay, he loses the ranch.”

“The specific terms, Mr. Morrison. Payment schedules, interest rates, penalties — all the details that I’m sure a businessman of your reputation would have carefully documented.”

Morrison’s eyes narrowed. “You’re quite the little lawyer, aren’t you?”

“I’m a woman who reads contracts before signing them. A habit I learned from my father.”

“Your father, the doctor?”

“My father, the doctor — who also happened to have a law degree from Harvard.”

It was true, though her father had never practiced law. But Morrison didn’t need to know that.

“You’ve got six months, Walker,” he snarled. “Six months to pay in full, or this ranch is mine.” He glared at Clara. “And you might want to teach your wife her proper place before she finds herself in trouble she can’t talk her way out of.”

He rode off with his men, leaving a cloud of dust.

Ethan turned to Clara, his expression unreadable. “Harvard?”

“I didn’t lie. My father did have a degree from Harvard.”

“And you just happened to forget to mention that?”

“You never asked.” She met his gaze steadily. “You’ve made it clear you don’t want to know anything about me.”

He was quiet for a moment. “That was impressive. What you did there.”

“It was a delay tactic. Nothing more. He’ll be back, and he’ll be angrier.”

“Still. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” She gestured at the ranch. “This is my home now. Whether either of us likes it or not. If Morrison takes this ranch, I lose too. Sophie loses. We all lose.”

“Self-preservation, then.”

“Partly.” She hesitated. “And partly because men like Morrison have been making women like me dance to their tune my whole life. I’m tired of it.”

Something shifted in his expression. Recognition. They’d both been forced into this marriage by Morrison’s machinations. Both stripped of their choices.

“We need to look at those documents,” Clara said. “The real ones. There might be something we can use.”

“They’re in the study.” He paused. “I haven’t been in there since Margaret died. It was her favorite room.”

“Would you like me to get them?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s time.”

The study door opened with a creak of protest. Clara watched Ethan step inside, his shoulders squared like a man facing a firing squad. She followed, giving him space.

The loan documents were in a leather portfolio in the desk. They spread them on the surface, and Clara began to read with the careful attention her father had taught her.

“Here,” she said, pointing to a clause. “This interest rate is higher than what he told you originally, isn’t it?”

“Yes. He said eight percent. This says twelve.”

“And here — this penalty clause. It says if you miss even one payment, he can call in the entire loan immediately. That’s not standard.”

“I didn’t read it carefully.” Guilt edged his voice. “Margaret was sick. Dying. I just needed money for the doctor, for medicine. I would have signed anything.”

“He took advantage of your desperation.”

She continued reading, her finger tracing the lines. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

“Wait.” She leaned closer. “This date — when did you sign this?”

“March fifteenth.”

“But this is dated March twentieth. And look — the interest rate calculation starts from March first, not the date of signing.”

Ethan leaned over her shoulder, his breath stirring her hair. “He’s been charging me interest for weeks before I even got the money.”

“Not just that. If the date is wrong, the whole contract might be void. Or at least questionable enough to take to a judge.”

She turned to look at him, not realizing how close he was. Their faces were inches apart. Close enough that she could see the gold flecks in his gray eyes. Could count his eyelashes.

For a moment, neither moved.

The air between them crackled with sudden awareness. Clara’s heart thundered in her chest. She saw Ethan’s eyes drop to her lips for just an instant.

Then he pulled back, clearing his throat.

“We should take this to a lawyer,” he said, his voice rougher than usual.

“Do you know one you trust?”

“There’s a man in Denver. Samuel Fletcher. He helped my neighbor with a land dispute.”

“Denver is a day’s ride each way.”

“I’ll leave tomorrow.”

“We’ll leave tomorrow,” Clara corrected. “This affects both of us. Besides, I might be able to help explain the contract issues.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but then he nodded.

“What about Sophie?”

“I’ll stay with Molly,” Sophie piped up from the doorway. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

It was the first time she’d volunteered to make things easier for Clara.