“And you—” She turned faster than a child’s toy top and faced Arlen. He held his stance as she moved toward him. She’d caught him off guard before, forcing him to step back, but not this time. Arlen Thomas would not be cowed, even by this fireball of a woman.
She lifted her hand and shoved a finger into his chest. “You think you can stroll in here and claim me and take my share of this property. You ought to just pack yourself right up and go back to—where is it you said you came from?”
“Wyoming Territory.” Why exactly he hadn’t remained there was something of a mystery at this moment. And yet, as angry as Mrs. Gresham was at him, Arlen found he couldn’t look away from her.
She took another step until she was nearly pressed up against him. She lifted her chin, stared him right in the eye, and said, “I will not marry you.”
“I believe you will,” he said.
Her eyebrows shot up so high he thought they might disappear beneath the hair that fell about her face. He wasn’t sure he evenwantedto marry this woman, but he certainly wanted to work this ranch. And if that meant taking on this tornado as his wife, then so be it. Anything was preferable to being shot at again back in Wyoming.
Besides, something about that furious press of her lips and the little line that formed in her forehead intrigued him enough to make him want to stay. She was unlike any woman Arlen had ever met.
And he had an intense desire to prove to her that he was just as stubborn as she was.
“Hmmph.” She narrowed her eyes at him before whirling about and disappearing to the rear of the house.
Arlen watched Mrs. Gresham leave before turning back to Cummings. “Where do you suppose she’s off to?”
“I don’t know, but I believe it means we’re both in a world of trouble,” Cummings said with an uncertain smile. He placed his hands on his hips. “Look, I know my sister is a handful. I understand if you’ve changed your mind.”
“She didn’t know a thing about me coming. Or your letter?” It was a question to which Arlen already knew the answer.
At least Cummings had the decency to look sheepish. “She never would have agreed. But it’s what my father would have wanted. He thought that married life might settle Josie down.”
Arlen rubbed a hand across his unshaven chin, the dull pain in his shoulder something he’d grown used to by now. He was good at reading between words, something he’d learned quickly as a sheriff. The man wanted Arlen to tame his sister. “You said she was married before?”
“For two weeks. He was a good man, and he perished in the blizzards that came through here last year.”
Arlen had seen the memorial of hand-carved crosses in town when he arrived. All those men, frozen to death. He’d heard tales of such things happening, but had never seen the repercussions of a loss that great. Had Mrs. Gresham mourned her husband? Or had he been chosen for her and foisted upon her, much as Arlen himself was now? “The lady made it quite clear she doesn’t wish to marry me.”
Cummings grimaced. “I’m sorry for that. Perhaps I should have made her reluctancy more clear in my letters.”
“Perhaps. Although that likely would have gotten you nowhere.”
Cummings gave him a wry smile. “I appreciate your understanding of the situation. Dare I ask if you’ll stay?”
Arlen was quiet for a moment. The easy answer would be to say no. To walk out of this house and ride back to town. There might be some other widow with a ranch more inclined to marriage waiting out there. And yet . . .
The image of Mrs. Gresham’s face danced in his mind. That stubborn set of her jaw, that wild hair refusing to be contained in pins, those eyes that would sooner slay him where he stood than consider marriage. There was something about her that intrigued him, that made him want her to change her mind. That made him want her to look at him with respect and adoration rather than utter distaste. He’d seen the possibility for a brief moment, when she’d first walked in and laid eyes on him. And then it was gone so quickly, he almost questioned whether it had been there at all.
“I’ll stay,” he said slowly. “But I won’t marry a woman who is unwilling.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Cummings said.
Arlen grinned. “I’m going to change her mind.”
Cummings gave a short laugh. “Then I wish you luck. Both for yourself and for me, because I hate to see you go. I think you’d be an asset to this ranch.”
A crash from somewhere beyond the kitchen drew their attention away from the conversation. Arlen followed Cummings through the kitchen to the rearmost of the two bedrooms that lined the side of the house.
And there, in the entry to the room, stood Mrs. Gresham, hands planted on her hips and Arlen’s canvas sack and saddle bags on the floor in front of her. “I took the liberty of packing for you,” she said with her eyes fixed on Arlen.
He moved toward her and scooped up his belongings from the floor. “I hate to see your hard work go to waste, but I regret to inform you that I’m not going anywhere.” And with that, he pushed past her and placed the bags on the floor under the window that overlooked the east, where the ranch’s land stretched out flat and green and brown.
“I told you I won’t marry you.” Those brown eyes blazed as she stopped right in front of him again. She was on the smaller side, but Arlen certainly didn’t doubt her strength. “It would be best if you left.”
He let his lips curl up in a lazy grin. “I’m aware of what you said. I’m staying. Your brother thinks you need me, and this ranch needs me. Besides, I’m not one to turn down a challenge.”
