His jaw tightened, but he said nothing more as she slipped away, her skirts whispering against the plank floor.
In the study, she sank into the large wooden chair behind the desk. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the pen and paper. The weight of her situation pressed on her chest, making each breath an effort.
She dipped the nib in the ink well and poised it over the blank page. What could she possibly say to her parents to explain her predicament? That she had traveled across the country to marry a stranger, but now found herself a guest of his equally unknown brother, a man who had just proposed to her himself? It sounded like the plot of a penny dreadful novel.
Mandie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to still the tumult of her thoughts. Somehow she had to condense it all to a short telegram message.
When she opened them again, she began to write in careful script:
DEAREST MOTHER AND FATHER STOP WRITING FROM MONTANA TERRITORY STOP HAVE SUFFERED INJURY AND MEMORY LOSS STOP BEING CARED FOR BY BALFOUR FAMILY STOP PLEASE ADVISE REASON FOR MY JOURNEY STOP YOUR LOVING DAUGHTER MANDIE FULL STOP
As she read over the message, her vision blurred. This short note barely scratched the surface of all she needed to say, all she needed to ask.
But it would have to do for now.
She replaced the pen and leaned back in the chair, her gaze drifting to the window. Outside, the ranch hummed with activity—the distant lowing of cattle, the rhythmic thud of an axe chopping wood, the call of one of the men as the brothers went about their work.
It all felt so foreign, so far removed from the life she knew.
Yet a part of her whispered that perhaps this was exactly where she was meant to be. That maybe, just maybe, there was a reason for her journey, for her arrival at this particular place and time.
Her chest tightened at the thought of Enoch’s proposal, his earnest blue eyes searching hers as he spoke of duty and honor and a future she couldn’t quite picture. He was a good man, that much was clear. A man who would care for her and protect her. He might be a touch grumpy, but that made his smiles even more fun to tease out.
What if she stayed here? What if she said yes?
As far-fetched as the idea seemed, she could almost imagine what happiness would look like in this place.
CHAPTER 11
Rain pounded against Enoch’s body as he slowed his horse at the barn doors, then jumped to the ground to open one wide enough for his and Thomas’s horses to enter.
The storm had descended without warning, a torrent of rain and wind whipping across the pasture where the two of them mended a fence. They’d ridden hard for the barn, the horses’ hooves churning the rapidly muddying ground.
A clap of thunder sounded as he closed the barn door behind the horses, and his gelding jerked its head up with the sound.
“Never seen a storm roll in that fast.” Thomas led his horse to its stall.
Enoch did the same, moving down to the end of the row. “Hope the others are back.” Robert had taken Mandie’s telegram to town, and James rode out to the north pasture, the fenced land farthest from the house.
It took little more than a minute to strip the tack and settle the horses. Especially since Robert and Thomas had cleaned the stalls and thrown fresh hay as part of their chores that morning.
“Ready to make a run for it?” He met Thomas at the barn door.
At his brother’s nod, Enoch pushed it open, and they both jogged up to the house.
Lightning split the sky as they reached the porch, and thunder crashed the next second. He took the steps in two strides, then slowed on the porch to catch his breath and take off his wet gear.
He shook off his hat, then bent to pull off his boots. Were she here, Mrs. Wang would send him back outside if he stepped foot on the rug with so much dark mud coating his shoes.
Even though he’d worn a hat, the driving wind had soaked his beard, which dripped water down into his shirt collar. His clothes were plastered to his skin. Probably not a suitable condition for a lady to see, but this was the nature of ranch life.
Hopefully he wouldn’t meet Mrs. Beaumont on the way to his room. Especially since he only wore stockings.
As he and Thomas were still prying off their muddy boots on the porch, the door swung open, and the woman herself stood in the frame.
“You’re both soaked through. Come in and get warm.”
She looked far too pretty…and far too fancy in her lace-trimmed dress compared to their bedraggled, mud-soaked clothes. He kicked off his last shoe, then followed Thomas inside. “We’d best get out of these wet clothes first. The others back?”
