He was likely referring to the mail-order brides that were on their way for both him and Beckett. Except for a few letters exchanged, the two men would hardly know their brides when they got married.
“What’s your point?” Beckett crossed his thick arms as if daring Thatcher to say anything more about marriage.
Thatcher wasn’t looking at Beckett, was instead focused on getting every drop of the vaccine into the syringe. “My point is that the best way to keep Violet safe is for Sterling to marry her.”
Beckett’s gaze turned stormier—if that were possible. And Sterling couldn’t speak past the surprise lodged in his throat.
Thatcher was too busy to look Sterling’s way as he shook the funnel, tapped the tube, and patted the filter.
Marry Violet? No, Sterling absolutely wouldn’t consider that again. Ever.
He couldn’t. Could he?
Beckett shook his head as if sensing the question.
No, it was impossible. He’d already tried marrying her once, and it hadn’t worked out. He wasn’t willing to take that risk again. Some other man would have to marry her. But who? Who could he suggest for her?
His mind raced with the options. Was there anyone in Breckenridge or Summit County he would be willing to entrust her to?
He pushed aside one name and face after another of the men he knew. On such short notice, he couldn’t think of a single man. Besides, even if he could narrow it down to a decent fellow, what would happen to Hyacinth? She would still be in danger.
Thatcher paused, the syringe upright and ready for the steer. He lifted a brow at Sterling. “Well?”
“It wouldn’t work.”
“With your reaction to that kiss, I have the feeling it’d work out just fine.” Thatcher flashed him a grin before stepping up to the steer, looping an arm around its neck, and then jabbing the needle into the creature’s shoulder.
The steer snorted and tried to step backward, but Thatcher had a tight hold. “It’s all right, fellow,” he said softly.
Although Sterling wanted to be irritated with the veterinarian for his assumptions and for poking his nose intobusiness that wasn’t his, he clamped his mouth closed. He owed Thatcher too much gratitude for his tireless help with the herd. And the truth was, Thatcher had offered a logical plan for keeping Violet safe.
It just wasn’t one Sterling wanted to use.
“Anyway,” Thatcher said as he finished injecting the shot. “Just something to think about.”
Before Sterling could say anything else, Beckett cocked his head to the door.
It was the sign Beckett wanted a private conversation. And of course Sterling knew what his foreman was going to tell him.
As they stepped out into the fading afternoon, Sterling once again scanned the ranch yard and the lane leading toward the main road. They’d stationed a ranch hand near the gate to keep watch for anyone who might be coming from town to pay them a visit.
But would Claude’s men come openly, or would they try to sneak in from the back route along the Blue River? Sterling hadn’t wanted to take away another ranch hand to post a man there. But now that Claude knew they were sheltering the women, Sterling might not have a choice.
Beckett was surveying the land too, obviously realizing Claude’s men would be back. When they returned, they would probably be prepared for a fight.
“You can’t marry her.” Beckett’s statement was matter-of-fact.
“I knew you’d say that.”
“That’s because I saw how she destroyed you.”
“I’m still alive and breathing.”
“You were like a dead man walking for weeks after she left you.”
“I’m fine now.” What was he doing arguing about the matter? He wasn’t planning to marry Violet, and he needed to let his friend know that.
“That woman is too fickle.” Beckett stared at the house with a scowl. “She’ll just hurt you again, and you know it.”
