He’ll think about it. How dare he! There was nothing to think about. She—and George—would never,neversell the ranch their parents had worked so hard to build. And if Arlen thought he could make those sorts of decisions for her, he was sorely mistaken.
As soon as the men were out of sight, she stormed from the memorial grounds, letting the anger drown out the ache that tore at her heart. If she stayed mad at him, she wouldn’t have to think about how he’d betrayed her. She’d just barely let him into her heart—and she’dkissedhim, for goodness sakes!—only to have him attempt to sell her life out from underneath her.
And that was a right he most certainlydidn’tpossess.
He hadn’t come here for a wife, or to help them improve the ranch. George had been fooled. Josie had been taken in by his practiced words and handsome face. All Arlen wanted was money.
Josie was so furious that she took Gretchen from the livery and immediately rode out toward home, forgoing her visit with Faith. She fumed the entire way. If that man Arlen spoke with even attempted to set foot on her land, Josie would meet him with a shotgun in hand. George would certainly back her up; he loved the ranch as much as she did.
What would she do when Arlen returned? A million possible scenarios ran through Josie’s mind. She could confront him. She could toss him out without a word. She could meethimwith her shotgun.
But as appealing as that sounded, she wanted an explanation. She wanted him to confess his betrayal, andthenshe’d banish him from their property. She’d nurse her own hurt feelings later, deep in the night when no one would hear.
But right now, it was anger that drove her home, and sheer furor that set her on the front porch, waiting. George must’ve been off checking on the cattle, which meant Josie would need to handle this on her own. Which was all fine and well by her. George was a good brother, but he was far too easy-going and affable for a situation such as this. Where George was the placid water of the North Platte in late summer, Josie was the scalding water that burst from the ground, just like the tales she’d heard of a place far to the west in Wyoming Territory.
She didn’t have to wait long. Just before four o’clock, Arlen came ambling up to the house on General. He dismounted, called out a greeting to her, and generally acted as if nothing was amiss. As if he hadn’t spent the afternoon plotting how to get the most money from selling her land.
She stood rigid on the porch, her arms crossed, as he made his way from where he’d turned General out in the corral near the barn. He slowed as he grew closer to her, and Josie wondered if he could feel the waves of anger that rolled from her skin.
“What happened?” he asked, concern lacing his features. “Is it George? Pastor Collins?” he made to reach for her hand, but Josie stepped back. Arlen dropped his hand as his face went from concerned to confused.
“You know very well what happened. I heard every word, Arlen Thomas. There’s no need to pretend you don’t have ill designs here.” Her voice threatened to shake as she spoke, but she held it steady. The last thing she wanted was this man thinking he’d gotten under her skin.
Even if he had.
He frowned, pulling every line and muscle in his face down. “I have no ill designs whatsoever. I’ve been nothing but honest with you.” He paused, his jaw working as he seemed to ponder something.
“Don’t tell me falsehoods. Iheardyou. You and that awful man.”
His eyes widened slightly. “Oh . . . You were in town?”
She nodded, hugging her arms around herself and trying to keep her emotions in check.
“You’d gone to the memorial.” He said this more to himself than to her.
She steeled her gaze at him.
“Then you must have heard me agree to nothing at all?”
“I . . .” Josie’s arms drooped a little as she replayed his words in her head. “You said you’d keep it in mind.”
“Yes, and it’s in my mind. It’s in yours too. That was a commitment to absolutely nothing.” Arlen rested a hand against the porch post. “In fact, I found the entire situation very odd, him approaching me instead of your brother. And if I see or hear from Mr. Tim Finnegan again, I will most certainly do some asking around.”
Josie’s face went hot as he spoke. She’d been fired up over nothing at all. Arlen hadn’t sold anything, or even indicated interest in selling.
He stepped forward again and took both of her uncertain hands in his. “I promise you, Josie, that I will never do anything that would hurt you. I want a life here, not a quick chance at money from an untrustworthy man.”
She stared down at his hands. How did this feel more intimate than a kiss? His hands were warm as they held hers, and if Josie would let herself, she could have sighed and fallen right against his chest. Those arms would have likely enveloped her, keeping her safe and warm.
She wasn’t quite ready for all of that, but she did hold Arlen’s gaze for a moment. She saw nothing but honesty in his eyes. How could she have believed otherwise of him? “I’m sorry I misconstrued what was said.”
He smiled at her, and all felt right again. “I hope that man has left town. But I promise to let you know if he contacts me again.”
“Thank you.” Josie glanced down to where his hands still held hers. It was so comforting, and she didn’t want the moment to pass.
“Am I interrupting?” George’s voice came from down below, beyond the steps to the porch.
Josie yanked her hands away. George—or even worse, Arlen—might think such a situation meant she wanted to marry. What had she been thinking?
