They Said She Was Wild And Unfit, Until The Cowboy Said, “Good, You’ll Match Me Just Fine”

Chapter 8

They found a holding area just outside the city where the cattle could rest and graze, and Kinley saddled Calico to ride into Cheyenne and find the buyers.

“I’ll come with you,” Quentyn offered.

She hesitated. Part of her wanted to handle this final step alone — to prove, perhaps more to herself than anyone, that she could complete the journey from start to finish under her own power. But another part, the part that had been slowly changing over the past weeks, recognized that accepting help was not the same as admitting weakness.

“I’d appreciate that,” she said. “Four ears are better than two when it comes to price negotiations.”

They rode into the city together, the bustle of the frontier town a stark contrast to the peaceful rhythm of the trail. At the cattleman’s exchange near the railhead, they found the office of Howard Williams, one of the major cattle buyers for the eastern markets.

Williams, a portly man with shrewd eyes, looked up from his ledger with surprise. “Evans Ranch. Don’t believe I’ve done business with you before.”

“First time bringing our herd this far north,” Kinley explained. “We have a hundred eighteen head — Hereford and Longhorn cross — in excellent condition.”

Williams leaned back in his chair, making no effort to hide his assessment of the woman standing before him. “And you are Kinley Evans. Owner and operator of Evans Ranch.”

She met his gaze steadily. “These are my cattle. I’m looking to sell.”

The buyer’s eyebrows rose slightly. “I see. Well, Miss Evans, the market is somewhat saturated at present. I might be able to offer you eighteen dollars a head, assuming the stock is as described.”

Kinley didn’t flinch, though the offer was well below what she’d hoped. “Mr. Williams. Our cattle have been selectively bred for both size and hardiness. They’ve just completed a two-hundred-mile drive without significant loss and are in prime condition. Eighteen dollars is considerably below their value.”

“Perhaps for premium stock from an established operation. But given the unusual nature of your enterprise, I believe my offer is generous.”

Before she could respond, Quentyn spoke up. “Mr. Williams, I’ve worked cattle from Texas to Montana, and I can assure you the Evans stock is among the finest I’ve ever seen. Furthermore, Miss Evans has an alternative offer from Jack Hobson at twenty-two dollars a head.”

It was a bluff. A calculated one. Jack Hobson was Williams’s main competitor, and the name landed exactly as intended.

Williams frowned. “Hobson, you say? I would need to inspect the herd before any final commitment, of course. But I might be able to match that price for truly superior animals.”

“Twenty-four,” Kinley countered smoothly. “And you’re welcome to inspect them this afternoon.”

The negotiation ran another twenty minutes before Williams agreed to twenty-three dollars a head, pending inspection.

Outside his office, Kinley couldn’t suppress a smile of triumph. “That was well played. The Hobson bluff was inspired.”

He grinned. “Wasn’t entirely a bluff. I spoke with one of his agents while you were arranging the meeting. Always good to have leverage in negotiations.”

She laughed — a sound so carefree it surprised her, months since she’d heard it from herself. “Remind me to bring you along next time I’m buying supplies in Sylvage.”

“Happy to help,” he said, his expression softening. “Especially when it means seeing that smile.”

The warmth in his voice brought a flush to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the summer sun. But before she could answer, a familiar voice called her name.

Harold Holloway stood on the boardwalk outside a nearby hotel, his expression a study in poorly disguised suspicion.

“Miss Evans. What a surprise to find you here.”

“Mr. Holloway.” She kept her voice cool. “Business in Cheyenne?”

“Banking conference. And I must say, I didn’t expect to see you so far from your ranch, especially with your payment deadline approaching.”

“I’m attending to business that will ensure that payment is made on time.”

Understanding dawned in the banker’s eyes. “You brought your herd to Cheyenne. A bold move, Miss Evans. Risky, some might say.”

“Sometimes risk is necessary, Mr. Holloway. I believe my father taught me that.”

The banker nodded slowly. “Indeed, he did. Well — I look forward to seeing you back in Sylvage before the end of the month. With your payment, of course.”

“Count on it.”

As Holloway walked away, Quentyn placed a hand lightly on her arm. “You enjoy proving people wrong, don’t you?”

“More than I probably should.” She smiled. “Though I won’t truly believe we’ve succeeded until the money’s in my hand and the receipt is in my pocket.”

“One step at a time. Let’s get back to the herd and make sure everything’s ready for Williams’s inspection.”

The inspection went smoothly. Williams, despite his initial skepticism, could not deny the quality of the Evans herd. By evening, a deal was struck — twenty-three dollars a head, payment the following morning after the cattle were delivered to the stockyards.

That night their small group celebrated around the campfire, the atmosphere lighter than it had been in weeks. Santiago produced a bottle of whiskey he’d been saving for a special occasion.

“To Miss Kinley,” he proposed, raising his cup, “who proved that determination beats doubt every time.”

“And to all of us,” Kinley added, looking around at the faces of the men who had made the journey possible. “I couldn’t have done this alone.”

Her gaze lingered on Quentyn, who was watching her with an expression that made her heart beat faster.

As Santiago and Miguel launched into an animated discussion about how they’d spend their bonuses, Quentyn moved to sit beside her.

“Proud of you,” he said quietly, his voice meant only for her ears. “Though not surprised. I knew you could do it from the moment I met you.”

“Even when everyone in town was saying I was wild and unfit to run a ranch?”

His smile was slow and warm. “Especially then. Remember what I said that first day?”

“‘Good. You’ll match me just fine.'” The memory was clear despite all that had happened since.

“Smartest thing I ever said.” His hand found hers in the darkness between them, fingers intertwining with a naturalness that belied how significant the gesture was. “And truer than I even knew at the time.”

Kinley felt something inside her shifting — walls crumbling, possibilities expanding. For so long she had defined herself by her ability to stand alone, to need no one. But now, with Quentyn’s hand warm in hers and the success of their journey nearly complete, she was beginning to understand that there was strength in connection, too.

“What happens next?” she asked softly, the question encompassing far more than the return journey.

“That depends,” he replied, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on her palm. “On what you want to happen.”

The moment stretched between them, full of unspoken possibilities.

Before Kinley could respond, Santiago announced it was time to turn in — they had an early morning ahead, delivering the cattle to the stockyards. With reluctance, they separated, the conversation once again deferred. But not forgotten.

As she settled into her bedroll, staring up at the vast expanse of stars, Kinley found her thoughts centered not on the ranch or the cattle or even the bank — but on Quentyn Blackwood, and the future he might represent if she was brave enough to reach for it.