Chapter One
Near Fort Worth, Texas; June 1889
Did every man have the urge to strangle his younger brother? Or had the Good Lord blessed Holt McAllister with a particularly intolerable one?
Holt slanted a glance at Lachlan, who was seated beside him on the wagon bench, his legs stretched wide enough to talk up two-thirds of the space, never mind that Holt was both taller and larger than Lachlan.
They’d left the house over a half hour ago, passing by acres and acres of brown prairie grass, and he hadn’t stopped talking once.
At least his children seemed to be behaving. Holt craned his neck farther around and looked in the wagon bed. Three-year-old Caleb was sleeping against Penny Jean’s side, Penny was reading a book, and Ollie was playing with his canteen. Yup, they were behaving, at least for the moment. And so far Lachlan has made more noise on their trip into town than his three children combined.
Holt didn't know how the man did it. Talked and talked and talked and talked without ever managing to shut his mouth. And about the most useless things ever.
“Well?” Lachlan nudged his shoulder, a thatch of golden brown hair curling over his forehead from beneath his hat brim. “What do you think?”
Holt shifted, not that it did much to stop the afternoon sun from beating down against his back. “‘Bout what?”
“About Ben Cartwright proposing to Annie Graves last week.” Lachlan nudged him in the shoulder, then cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well? Had you heard?”
“Don’t care.”
Lachlan let out a long, gusty breath. “You should. She would have made you a good wife.”
Holt just kept his mouth shut. Sometimes it was best just to let the man blabber and pray for the patience to endure it rather than join in a conversation. Holt moved his eyes back to the sun-baked road, the dirt so dry that the horses were kicking up plumes of dust that were coating everyone in the wagon in a fine mist.
“Make sense she’d say yes to Cartright though. Annie’s been helping her pa run cattle since she was knee-high. She ain't about to turn down a fellow with three hundred head and a good spread.”
Three hundred head didn’t make a man worth marrying, at least not in his opinion. But saying that aloud would only make this dratted conversation last longer.
Holt flicked the reins, guiding the horse around a series of cracks in the road, the clay earth shrunk into jagged seams from months without rain. The jostling sent another cloud of fine dust billowing up, coating the children's clothes and leaving a chalky grit between Holt's teeth.
“Course, now Sam Hargrove's looking for a wife.” Lachlan went on, evidently not minding he’d just gotten a mouthful of dust. "Not sure where he’ll find one, seeing how there aren’t all that many women around Fort Worth who aren’t already married. He was sniffing around Josie after church Sunday though, as if everybody doesn’t know our sister’s going to marry Tucker Sutton one day. Pa’s had that arranged since she was knee-high too.”
Holt grunted. “Tucker Sutton will make Josie a decent husband, not so sure about Hargrove.”
If he didn’t like the thought of Tucker and Josie together, he would have said something years ago. He wasn’t the type to stand by and watch while their pa married his only sister off to some a lazy, no-account man.
“You know what this county needs?” Lachlan nudged his shoulder again.
“Rain.”
Lachlan rolled his eyes. Of course it needs rain. No one can afford for the drought to get any worse, but that wasn’t what I meant.”
Holt snapped his mouth shut again, but that didn’t stop Lachlan from blabbering on.
“More women. I mean it too. Every young rancher around here's looking for a wife, myself and Callum included. Pete Lawson's talking about sending off for one, and I can’t blame him. A man's plumb foolish trying to run a ranch without a good woman beside him.”
“How much longer, Pa?” Ollie whined from the back.
The wagon clattered over another section of cracked dirt and hardened ruts in the road. This time there was no trying to reduce the jostling, not with the way the ruts spread across the entirety of the road. More dust stirred behind them.
Holt glanced behind him to find five-year-old Ollie standing up and coming toward him, his face coated in a fresh sheen of dust. “About twenty minutes, bud.”
“I’m hot.” His little hands clasped the back of the bench.
“That’s what happens when we go to town with your uncle.” Holt slid a sideways glance at Lachlan, but his brother only winked. The lout. “He insisted on going to Fort Worth in the middle of the day when it’s hot as blazes.”
“It’s not my fault the train comes at three o’clock in the afternoon. If it came at seven in the morning, that’s when we’d have gone to town.”
“That’s when I usually do go to town.” Before the day got too busy—or to hot—and that was on a normal day and not when they were in the middle of a drought.
“Can I have some water?” This time Ollie’s voice ended on a high pitch, a sure sign the boy was tired along with being hot.
“Where’s your canteen?” Holt glanced over his shoulder into the wagon bed again, but didn’t spot the metal bottle he’d given his son before they’d left the ranch.
“It’s gone.”
“All of it?”
“You went over a bump while he was taking a drink and it spilled.” Penny Jean said from where she was still sitting against the side of the wagon, a book in her hand while Caleb was tucked beside her, sound asleep to the world.
At least spilling water explained why the Ollie’s face looked like it was streaked with sweat and there were dark splotches on his shirt.
“You spilled the whole thing?” Holt reached down to where one of the extra canteen bottles was settled between his feet. The movement caused his hand to pull tight against the reins, and one of the horses whinnied. For about half a second, he thought about handing the reins to Lachlan, but knowing his brother, he’d decide to see how fast the horses could run and race them the rest of the way into town.
Holt’s hand finally found the canteen, and he handed it back to Ollie. “Try not to spill this time. And give some to your sister after you’re done.”
He’d brought extra water, but he’d been hoping it would be enough to get them into town and back. If they were already on their second canteen, they’d have to stop by Wyatt’s house and fill up. Because visiting another brother was just what he needed. As if Lachlan tagging along on their trip to town wasn’t bad enough.
Ollie took several long gulps of water then turned, the canteen tucked against his chest.
Holt gave the reins another flick, trying to hurry the horses along so they could at least get to town and find some shade, but the horses weren’t of a mind to move too fast in the—
Thump!
“Ahhh!”
“Watch where you’re going, buffalo brain,” Penny Jean snapped.
Another wail rose from the back of the wagon. Holt shoved the reins at Lachlan, who’d decided to start yammering about marriageable women again.
“What’s going on back there?” He turned in time to see Ollie scrambling into a sitting position from where he’d fallen, the water from the canteen leaking out onto the weathered boards of the wagon.
“Ollie fell on top of Caleb.” Penny Jean glared at Ollie, then tried to tuck Caleb closer to her chest.
The three-year-old was having none of it. He shoved away from her, his cries growing louder.
“I didn’t mean too,” Ollie protested. “His leg was where I was walking.”
“Then walk around him, mule-head.”
Ollie jabbed a finger at Penny Jean. “Don’t call me a mule-head!”
“Then don’t act like one.”
“I don’t!”
“Do too!”
Caleb’s cries climbed to a higher pitch.
“Be quiet, both of you,” Holt barked.
Both Ollie and Penny Jean snapped their mouths closed, but that didn’t stop them from glaring at each other.
“Caleb, come to Pa.” Holt held out his arms for the boy, who looked as though he was getting ready to loose another wail.
But when Caleb saw Holt’s arms extended, he quieted, then pushed to his feet and toddled toward him as the wagon rolled over the uneven road.
Holt hefted him into the front of the wagon and tucked him onto his lap. The boy was sticky with heat, his eyes filled with big tears. “Penny Jean, hand me Caleb’s hat.”
Penny Jean crawled over to where Caleb’s hat rested on the floor, then handed it to him. He settled it on the boy’s head, then fished around by his feet for another canteen. The second he twisted off the lid, Caleb reached for it and held it to his mouth. He was about as good as drinking on a moving wagon as Ollie, but at least the water trickling down his shirt would cool him off. Holt untied the bandana around his neck next, dribbled water on it, and then laid it across the back of his son’s neck. The water itself was far from cold, but even a little bit of moisture on the back of a person’s neck could cool them down in the heat.
“See?” Holt sent Lachlan a glare, interrupting the torrent of words that were still flowing from his mouth. “This is why I like going to town first thing in the morning.”
Lachlan threw up his hands. “Then we wouldn’t be able to meet the train.”
Of course. The train. He still didn’t know why they needed to meet it. To be fair Lachlan might have told him at some point in the last ten minutes, but he hadn’t been paying attention.
“So, what do you think about her?” Lachlan scratched beneath his hat brim. “Sounds like she’d make a good wife, right?”
Was Lachlan still taking about women? Good heavens. He wasn’t going to have to listen to this the rest of the way into town, was he?
“Ah… I’m sure she’ll make a great wife.” He didn’t even know who they were talking about finding a wife for. Was it Lachlan? Had someone in town caught his fancy? “Josie will appreciate having another woman around the ranch too.”
Lachlan tilted his head back and loosed a big, deep laugh. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you?”
Holt swiped the reins back from Lachlan and took control of the wagon. “Not like it’s the first time I’ve ignored you.”
Another laugh filled the wagon, this one even richer than before.
Holt scowled. “What’s so funny?”
“I’ve been talking about a wife for you, not me.”
Holt’s jaw locked up tight. How many times did he have to tell Lachlan? He didn’t want another wife. “If this is about marrying Annie Higgins or Louise Alford or Clara Henderson or any of the other women you’ve brought up over the past year, the answer’s still no.”
Lachlan blinked, the smirk dropping from his face. “Did you even try to listen to what I was saying? Just a little?”
Holt flicked the reins. Was it just him, or were the horses moving so slowly they might never get to town? “Not my fault you talk more than a woman.”
“I haven’t been talking about you marrying Annie or Louise or anyone else.” Lachlan’s hand reached up to rub the side of his head, his face alarmingly serious. “I’ve been talking about you marrying Laurel Farnsworth.”
Holt scowled. “Who in tarnation is Laurel Farnsworth? And why would I want to marry her?”
“She’s the bride I ordered for you. And she’s coming on the three o’clock train.”
Holt’s back went ramrod straight, causing Caleb to nearly topple from his lap. “What did you say?”
“I said I finally found you a wife. Her name is Laurel Farnsworth. She’ll be a perfect fit for you on the ranch, and she’s arriving today at three.”
“What do you mean you found me a wife?”
Lachlan threw up his hands. “Don’t look so shocked by it. I’ve been telling you I was going to find you a wife for months now.”
“Confound it, Lachlan. I didn’t expect you to actually go and do it.”
“What? you thought I wanted to ride into town with you in the middle of the day because I was bored? Do you know how much work there is to do on the family ranch right now with water being low?” Lachlan shoved a hand toward the field they were passing, which was just as brown as every other field they’d passed on the way into Fort Worth.
Holt stared at him. “I don’t understand. How did you order me a wife—not that I’m going to marry her.”
“Put an ad in a marriage periodical.”
“You took out an advertisement? Like you were selling a wagon or horse? Except you were what? Selling me? To a woman?” He didn’t like the high pitch to his voice, but he wasn’t sure how to help it.
“That’s exactly what I did.” Lachlan settled an ankle over his knee on the wagon bench, which meant he was now taking up even more space, not that he seemed to mind. “Worked pretty well, too. Had a lot of women write in wanting to marry you, which meant I could take my time picking the right one for you.”
“How on earth do you know you found the right one? Never mind. It doesn’t matter, because I won’t be marrying her.”
Lachlan quirked an eyebrow, his normally smiling face etched with serious lines that gave Holt the sudden urge to squirm, even though he had a good four inches of height and thirty pounds of muscle on his little brother. “Don’t go thinking you’re going to pawn Miss Farnsworth off on someone else to marry. You’re the one who needs a wife, or have you forgotten how your house looks right now? Or how big the pile of laundry is in your bedroom? Did you even get the dishes done after lunch, or are they piled in a heap in the sink, right along with the dishes you never finished after breakfast?”
Holt snapped his mouth shut and stared at the road ahead. The horses that had been moving too slowly only minutes ago now seemed to be going entirely too fast. What would happen if he turned the wagon around and didn’t go to Fort Worth today?
He could go again first thing in the morning. Without Lachlan, and after he was sure to miss the arrival of this Miss Farnsworth woman that he had no intention of meeting, let alone marrying.
“You can barely feed the kids three meals a day, let alone tend to ’em proper. Your way of taking care of Caleb is having Penny Jean watch him all day long. But she’s nine, not sixteen, and Ollie won’t listen to her for nothing. The moment you walk out of the house, all the two of them do is fight. And I know you haven’t forgotten about last week. If Josie hadn’t shown up when she did—”
“Enough, Lachlan.”
He didn’t need his brother rehashing the accident that barely been avoided. It was already keeping him awake at night.
He glanced down at Caleb, who was sleeping soundly on his lap. Had things gone differently, his lap might be empty right now.
He’d been checking the water and fences last week when the boys had followed Penny Jean outside to get water. But the moment they got to the well, Ollie decided to try climbing the windmill.
Penny Jean told him not to, but he climbed it anyway, and Penny Jean climbed right up after him.
Holt still didn’t have a clue what she would have done had she caught up with her brother. She wasn’t strong enough to drag him down if he didn’t want to go.
But Penny and Ollie on the windmill hadn’t been the biggest problem.
The biggest problem was Caleb, who’d been left unattended. Thankfully Aunt Josie has been riding past and decided to check on the kids. She’d found Caleb standing on an overturned bucket with half his body hanging over the well.
Half his body.
Holt still woke in the middle of the night seeing it.
If Josie had come by two minutes later...
He squeezed Caleb a little tighter.
The boy sighed and settled closer, and holt swallowed. He hadn't lost a son. But he'd come awfully close.
Josie had stayed at the house until he’d gotten home just before sundown. That night, he’d pulled Caleb into bed with him, snuggling the oblivious boy close while nightmares ran rampant through his dreams each time he closed his eyes. [NM1.1]
Since then, he'd hauled enough buckets of water into the house to last half a week so the children wouldn't have to go near the well. [NM2.1]He'd forbidden them from going outside if he wasn’t home unless it was to use the privy. He’d checked on them every chance he got, sometimes riding back to the house before noon just to make sure they were all right.
None of it stopped the fear from creeping up on him while he was out on the ranch without the children.
Every time he looked at Caleb, he saw his little body leaning over the rim of the well, his little legs scrambling for a grip against the stone so he could climb all the way up.
He’d almost lost a child.
Because he’d been working.
Because he’d left a nine-year-old in charge of a three-year-old.
Because he was doing the work of two parents and failing badly.
“You still going to try telling me you don’t need a wife?” Lachlan asked again, but his words were quiet this time, and he still had that serious expression on his face.
Holt looked down at Caleb again. The boy slept on, one hand fisted in his shirt.
He swallowed. “Don’t know. Reckon I need to think on it a spell.”
