Rocky Mountain Wife

Copyright 2014 Kate Darby

Cover Art by The Killion Group

Edited by Jena O'Connor

www.PracticalProofing.com

E-book formatted by Jessica Lewis

www.AuthorsLifeSaver.com

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Wyoming, 1884

Claire Callahan rubbed her eyes, wishing she had more tears to shed. Seven months had passed, seven agonizing months since she’d buried her husband here on this quiet corner of their land, a place he’d loved so much. She ran her fingertips across the headstone where his name was etched. Clay Callahan, beloved husband and father.

Down deep, part of her believed this was a bad dream. She would awake from it any second to find Clay whole and alive, his arms held wide for her to run into. But another part of her knew the truth. Clay was gone, and she was a widow about to lose everything.

“I figured I’d find you out here.” A man’s voice broke the stillness of the meadow. It was the manager of Aspen Creek Bank. He tipped his hat low to cover the regret in his eyes. “I knocked at the house, but there was no answer. We need to talk, Mrs. Callahan.”

She let out a sigh, the weight of her sorrows heavy on her heart. “I know.”

She gave Clay’s headstone one last loving touch and rose to her feet. She brushed bits of grass off her skirt and turned away from the grave, where the wildflowers she’d planted had begun to bloom. Her stomach fisted as she faced the banker. “How much time do I have?”

“This is your two week notice.” Nels Markum stared at the ground between them, looking as if he hated being the bearer of bad news. “I wanted to come by and let you know. Do you have some place to go?”

“I’m still working that out.” Claire set aside her grief. Clay wouldn’t have wanted her to lose their place. He wouldn’t have wanted her and their daughter to become homeless. “But I promise you that I won’t make this harder than it has to be for you, Mr. Markum. I’ve already placed an advertisement to sell the farm horses. I’ve already sold the livestock, including my mother’s mule. I just have the milk cow and a few hens left to sell. It won’t take long to pack. I’ll be out on time.”

“I hate that it has come to this.” Mr. Markum’s shoulders slumped. “It gives me no pleasure to put a widow and a child out of their home. It’s a shame no one can buy the place. The mortgage is simply more than the ranch is worth.”

Claire’s throat closed up so she could only nod in agreement. Clay had never been good with money. Heck, she’d done all she could to encourage him to make good decision with their finances, but the truth was that in this world, a man controlled the money. Clay thought he was doing the right thing, always looking to what was down the road and not to the immediate future.

The new section of land I went into debt for will be a wise investment, you’ll see.
Clay’s words came back to her now, full of confidence.
We’ll make twice in crop yields what the mortgage will cost every year. One day, you’ll be thanking me.

Well, that day would never come. Claire pressed her lips together, trying to hold in her sorrow and disappointment. Losing this place was breaking her heart all over again. She’d come here as a new bride. She’d lost her virginity here. She’d given birth to her only child here. Desolate, she squared her shoulders. There was no other choice but to handle the situation as well as she could.

“Again, I’m sorry.” Mr. Markum tipped his hat in a polite farewell. “If you need anything, please let me know.”

“That’s kind of you. Thank you.” She couldn’t imagine what kind of help he could offer her. She clasped her hands together and watched him wade through the green grass of the meadow. The air smelled like a storm was coming. The wind buffeted her, snapping her skirts and tangling her blond hair. She’d never felt so lost or alone.

“Ma!” A little girl raced through the meadow, her brown braids bobbing. “Ma! Ma!”

Claire’s heart lurched at the sound of tears in her daughter’s voice. Her worries forgotten, she rushed through the wildflower-studded grass toward her daughter. “Ivy, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“There’s a man here. He said he wants to buy our horses.” Ivy skidded to a stop, the notes of her voice were high and thin. “Not our horses, Ma! Pa loved those horses. We can’t run the ranch without them.”

She wrapped her arms around her child, holding her tight as sobs shook her little body. Poor Ivy. She’d been so close to Clay.

“I know this is hard, sweetie.” She pressed kisses to the top of her daughter’s head. “But we have to find a way to be strong. Your father is watching us from heaven, and we don’t want him to be sad for us.”

“I can’t help being s-sad.”

“Me, either.” She rocked slightly back and forth, trying to comfort her precious girl. If she could will the pain from Ivy’s heart, she would. She would pay any price, go to any length.

But she was helpless to heal her daughter’s grief. All she could do was to hold Ivy a few moments more before a man’s tall, wide-shouldered silhouette came into view on the rise behind the house.

That would be the man interested in the horses. It would be wise not to keep him waiting. They needed the cash the sale of the animals would bring. Desperately.

She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Come with me. Let’s see if this fellow is good enough to deserve your papa’s horses.”

“No.” Ivy planted her feet, fresh tears filling her blue eyes. Her round face wrinkled with the force of her feelings. “Don’t you do it, Mama. Don’t sell ‘em.”

“I don’t have any other option, baby.” Her heart felt like it was breaking all over again as she headed through the field. Ivy dashed off, rushing over to the orchard where she spent time in the trees when she was upset. Claire sighed, hating how helpless she was to make things right. All she could do was to put one foot in front of the other.

“Mrs. Callahan?” The man’s voice sounded familiar, but the spring sun was behind him, casting him in silhouette. His Stetson sat at a slight angle, shading his face and giving him a dashing look. It was hard not to notice his strong shoulders or iron strength.

“Yes, I’m Claire Callahan.” Her voice came out croaky and raspy, betraying her emotions.

“We’ve never met, at least not formally. I’m your neighbor, Joshua Reed.” He tipped his hat politely. “I knew your husband.”

“Yes, you’re the one who lent him a cutter blade when ours broke during haying season last year.” She remembered now. She nodded, wrapping her arms around her middle. This wasn’t going to be easy. “You came about the horses?”

“You get right to the point, don’t you?” He moseyed closer and set his hands on his hips. He looked around, first across the fields where new sprouts of corn and wheat struggled to grow in the acres and acres of dusty dirt. Near the barn, horses grazed in their corral. The sun dimmed as storm clouds gathered overhead. He squinted. “This is a pretty place you have here.”

“I know.” Her voice wobbled. “Clay put his heart and soul into this land.”

“It’s the best maintained ranch in the county.” Joshua was a shy man, but he knew what grief felt like. He knew what it was like to lose everything. He’d come with an offer he feared she would turn down, but he felt a debt to Clay that he could never repay. “I hear you’re in foreclosure.”

“Yes. That’s why I’m selling the horses.” She gestured toward the barn, her slender hands sun browned and rough from doing hard work in the fields. “Let’s go take a look at them.”

“All right.” He fell into stride beside her through the grass. The wind gusted, carrying the scent of rain. The first raindrop struck his cheek. “I saw your advertisement in the paper, and I had to come. I was afraid someone else would have gotten here first. You have some nice horses, ma’am.”

“That was Clay’s doing, not mine.” She held herself stiff and still, like a woman about to break. “He had a way with horses. He was always kind to them.”

“I will be, too.” He pitched his voice so she would hear his intention. “Look, the horses know me. They’re coming this way.”

“So they are.” Claire Callahan sounded surprised by that, or maybe she just sounded tired.

As he ambled up to the wooden railing of the corral, he noticed the clean, full water trough and the gleam of the animal’s carefully brushed coats. Clay may have been gone since autumn, but these horses had been faithfully tended. His chest tightened with sympathy, wondering just how much work the woman had done here. Had she planted the crops? Did she clean the barn daily? What about the chopped wood stacked near the house?

Guilt gripped him. He would have helped her, if he had known. He rubbed one of the horse’s noses. “What about the wagon there? Looks like it’s in need of repair.”

“Yes. That’s beyond my abilities.” She rubbed raindrops from her face. “I can bake the best cakes and pies in town, but I’m probably the worst wheel repair person in the county. I don’t even know where to start. That’s where you come in.”

“Me?”

“If you’re serious about buying these horses, then I can hire it done and my daughter and I will have the wagon to live in.” She trained her sky blue eyes on him. “Are you ready to negotiate?”

“It’s gonna be hard to negotiate when you put it like that.” He let the corner of his mouth crook upward. “You’re playing to my weakness.”

“Is that right? Well, it’s not what I meant. I simply don’t have time to waste.”

“And I don’t have the stomach to try and cheat a woman. I’ll take your asking offer, the amount you had in the advertisement.” He arched a brow. “Why are you alone here? I know Clay had family. He talked about them. A brother in the next county and parents down in Dillon.”

“They never approved of me, I’m afraid. They came for the funeral and—” She gulped in air, paling. “They blame me for his death. He fought so hard to try to save our land from the wildfire. They said he never thought straight when it came to me. There was such a big age difference between us. They said I was too young for him.”

“I fought alongside Clay in that fire.” His throat closed, tightening up like a fist. His voice was strained, rasping as it had that night when he’d breathed in so much black smoke and ash. The memory surged up, the hell of fire and heat and destruction. Of death. He grimaced, not wanting to remember. “He saved my life that night.”

“Did he? I didn’t know.” She choked down a sudden sob, looking away from him. The clouds opened up, and rain poured down. “That sounds like Clay.”

“The fire got behind me. The wind changed, surprising us, and it was like hell. A firestorm. I was trapped. It caught Clay too. He was already burned, and he could have escaped, but he ran in to pull me out. I’ll never forget what he did.”And he could never repay the debt.

“I’m glad to know that.” She turned her back to him, obviously wrestling with her emotions.

He didn’t know what to say. His tongue tied up, and he fell silent, listening to the wind and rain. He was soaked clean through, but he waited, the question he’d come to ask her on his tongue. He had a hard time asking it. He swiped rain off his face, watching the horses head for shelter.

Well, they had the good sense to get out of the weather, and he wouldn’t mind doing the same, but Claire Callahan didn’t move. Her slender shoulders were rigid, her back straight, her waist just a tiny little nip begging for a man to place his hand there.

“Thank you for buying the horses.” She didn’t turn around, and her voice sounded strained, thick with unshed tears. “He would like that. I’m sure he would rest easy knowing you were taking care of them.”

“It has to be hard thinking about losing your home.”

“You have no idea.” She turned to face him. Her blue gaze met his and the heartfelt sadness there knocked the air from his lungs.

“If there was a way to keep your home, would you do it?” he asked. “I could buy the land from you.”

“It isn’t worth the debt owed on it.” She pushed a hunk of wet, blond hair out of her face. Rain beat down on her and she didn’t seem to notice. “It’s a kind gesture, but it’s not possible.”