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  Would marriage be such a bad thing? She had no desire to run the ranch, and Nate was comfortable in his position, unwilling to carry on the extra burden for much longer. She could marry for convenience, find someone who wasn’t looking for love. They could be of mutual assistance.

  The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. No other men had seemed interested in her anyway, and this way, at least she might get companionship. Mr. Tarleton had mentioned knowing a few men who might be willing. Perhaps she’d go talk to him tomorrow. She shouldn’t have to lose her inheritance over a silly clause.

  Before she made a final decision, she’d revisit her thoughts in the morning. Midnight, when she was dog-tired and emotionally spent, was not the time to make a major life decision.

  She pulled the covers up higher and curled into a ball. Her eyes were fluttering in the first stages of sleep when she heard the downstairs front door open. Shooting up into a sitting position, she clenched her fists. Footsteps echoed through the house, and Bess was terrified.

  Was it an intruder or one of the men needing her for something?

  “Who’s there?” she called out.

  No answer.

  The footsteps came up the stairs, and the moon allowed in just enough light to see someone pause at her door.

  Her heart beat loudly in her chest, thumping and thudding. She heard the doorknob turn, and she did the only thing she could think of to do.

  “HELP!”

  At the sound of her scream, the intruder retreated down the steps at a rapid pace.

  Tears of fright pooled in Bess’s eyes. She’d never been so scared. Taking several deep breaths, she tried to calm herself to no avail.

  Several seconds later, the door opened again.

  “Boss, are you in here?”

  Nate. A long sigh of relief brushed her lips. She stepped out of bed and made herself modest.

  She ran to the stairs. “I’m here.”

  He looked at her from the bottom of the stairwell. “What’s wrong? I heard you scream all the way in the bunkhouse.”

  “There was an intruder,” she told him through raspy breaths. “He made it all the way to my bedroom.”

  Nate’s face paled. “Did he harm you at all?”

  “No.” What if he hadn’t left? What if the men weren’t nearby? The unknowns tormented her.

  “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “No, he ran as soon as I screamed and never made it past my closed door.”

  “I’ll gather some men and go after him.” Nate looked angry, and Bess thought she wouldn’t want to be on the opposite side of his wrath. He pulled a six-shooter from its holster. “Know how to use this?”

  Her head shook. “No.”

  “We’ll have to remedy that, but it’s too late for tonight.” After doing something to it, he handed it to her. “It’s ready to go. Anyone comes near you that’s not supposed to be here, you aim and pull the trigger.”

  Still shaken, Bess’s hand trembled with the loaded gun.

  “On second thought, I’ll keep it,” Nate said, taking it back from her. “Follow me to the bunkhouse. I’ll have Shorty escort you back to the house and stand guard until we come back.”

  Unashamed that she cowered near Nate in her fear, she stood closely behind him and kept the same proximity to Shorty on the return trip.

  Back in the house, Bess lit three lanterns and made some coffee. After this night, she knew slumber would not find her. She took a mug to Shorty, who stood on the porch. His leathery face and cagey appearance would scare off most anyone, except those who knew him. She’d learned that he’d been at the Bar S longer than any other current employee knew and had a big heart but didn’t tolerate nonsense. He also had the quickest draw of anyone in Mucksbe, except maybe Garrison Gray, so she’d heard.

  With him right there, she felt safe, but knew she couldn’t have someone stand guard every night. What would happen next time? By the time the sun crested on the horizon, she’d made a decision.

  She’d go into town that day and find herself a husband.

  Chapter 4

  Sheriff Daniels’ clanging keys announced his arrival. “Get ready, Routson.”

  “For what?” Clint was in no mood to disguise his sulkiness. Every day the walls closed in further.

  “You’re getting out of here.”

  “Sure.” He drew the word out into multiple syllables. “Like I haven’t heard that before.”

  “Sometimes I wonder why I put up with your mouth.” The sheriff scowled. “I think you’ve forgotten you’re the prisoner here, not me.”

  Clint returned the glower. “What’s the deal?”

  “There’s a lady out there waiting. Now get your boots on and get out there.”

  “Hey, why’s Clint getting out of here?” Trey moved toward the unlocked cell door. “Don’t I get a chance to woo the lady?”

  “Not this time. This lady has a specific requirement.”

  Perking his ears, Clint tugged a boot over his foot. “Which is?”

  “Ranching experience.”

  “I have that,” Trey interjected.

  “She needs someone who knows how to run one, not just be a cowpoke.” Sheriff Daniels narrowed his eyes, clearly losing his patience.

  Trey scowled and stalked away, knowing he was beaten.

  On the off chance this would actually be the time a marriage prospect followed through and he could break out of this place, Clint kept his mouth shut, refraining from further snide comments. After putting on his other boot, he stood and accompanied the sheriff into the other room.

  A beautiful woman sat in the chair, fiddling with the strings of her reticule. Her hair was a golden shade of blonde that reminded him of his childhood home in Kansas when the tall prairie grass would reflect the soft glow of the evening sun. Why on earth would she need to resort to a marriage of convenience with a

  convicted criminal?

  Then again, he’d seen the other women who’d married as part of the program. His former cell mates had all married women who were beautiful in their own right. He was curious what brought her here.

  “Miss Star.”

  When the sheriff called her name, she stood and faced them. Her eyes sparkled like emeralds but held fear. Clint imagined she was nervous about marrying a stranger.

  “Clint, I’d like you to meet Bess Star. Bess, this is Clint Routson, the man I told you about who fits your requirements.”

  Bess Star. It was a nice name for the lady, fitting of her countenance.

  Turning on his charm, he flashed his best smile. He needed her to approve of him. “Sheriff told me you need someone who has experience running a ranch. I imagine it’s a lot of work for a woman to keep up with.”

  Sheriff shot him a warning look, and Clint shrugged his shoulders, silently asking “what?”

  He quickly reflected on what he’d said. Maybe he’d offended her by implying she wouldn’t be able to handle the tasks. “I didn’t mean you couldn’t do it if you wanted. You look sturdy enough to handle hard work, but I’m sure you’d rather do the womanly tasks and leave the mundane to a husband.”

  Bess’s cheeks puffed out, and her eyes shot bullets at him. “I would rather leave those tasks to a husband, but I assure you, Mr. Routson, that you will not be that man.” She stormed out of the jail.

  Dumbfounded, Clint had no clue what he’d done wrong.

  “What were you thinking?” Sheriff Daniels stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “If you had any hope of getting out of here today, you just ruined it, you big galoot.”

  Clint tossed his hands in the air. “What did I say?”

  “You really don’t know?”

  “No.”

  The sheriff shook his head. “Women want to be thought of as dainty and feminine. Calling her sturdy was an insult, boy. I guarantee you she felt like a workhorse after being called that.”

  “How was I to know?” Clint hunched his shoulders. “I don�
��t want no frail flower who will wilt. I thought sturdy was a compliment. And she sure looked feminine to me.”

  “Then why don’t you go and let her know that.” The lawman shook a finger. “Grovel if you have to.”

  “Are you now the one forgetting that I’m a prisoner and can’t leave?” Narrowing his eyes, Clint issued the challenge.

  An exasperated sigh came from Sheriff Daniels. “Go on out there and do what you must. Then come right back in. Pull any funny business and I’ll make sure you don’t see daylight for years to come.”

  Not willing to further press his luck, Clint barreled out the door to search for Bess. He didn’t have to go far.

  She stood at the far edge of the jail’s porch, her arms crossed and her perky nose upturned. The little snoot. She wasn’t offended–only wanted to make a scene. Would a life with someone like that even be worth it?

  He wasn’t ready to give up yet. Moving a little closer, he noticed her chest hiccupping and tears on her cheek.

  Great hogs, he’d made her cry. Guilt tugged at his heart. He’d never meant to hurt her, and still stood by the fact he’d meant his words as a compliment, but it was apparent he knew nothing about women.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, inching toward her.

  Her head jerked up, her eyes registering surprise.

  “What I said in there, it came out wrong.” He stood near her, but was careful not to invade her space. “The sheriff informed me how my words were insulting. I truly meant nothing mean by them.”

  “In my exhaustion, I probably overreacted.” Her arms loosened but remained crossed.

  “Can we start over?” He held his breath.

  “I suppose.” She emitted a long sigh. “Do you really know how to run a ranch and keep the ledgers?”

  He exhaled. “Yes. Before I ended up here, I had a ranch of my own. It wasn’t a large operation, but I did all right. Unfortunately, I lost it because there was no one to keep it going. Thus, no profit and I couldn’t pay my note to the bank.”

  Sympathy reflected in her tight smile. “And how did you find yourself on the wrong side of the law?”

  “Up until now, I always did everything by the book, then one day, my brothers came to visit. Jess, the oldest, had been shot. I gave them shelter until they could move on.”

  “That doesn’t sound like anything wrong.” She cocked her head as if waiting for more to the story.

  “They were outlaws, and I knew that.” At her frown, he rushed to continue. “If they had been caught, they would have been hanged. I knew it was wrong to hide them, but for better or worse, they’re my family.”

  “You were in a tough situation.” Her hands fell to her side. “Sometimes the right or wrong choice isn’t so clear.”

  “No, it isn’t, but I can promise you that I am a law-abiding citizen.” He sucked in a long breath before continuing. “If you give me a chance, I won’t let you down.”

  “I’m in a bind because when I came to Mucksbe, it was because my uncle left me his estate. I needed a break from New York, but never imagined he’d left me an entire ranch. To be honest, I don’t know the first thing about ranching,” she said, surprising him with her frankness. “Nor do I have the desire to learn, but I would like to maintain ownership and live in the house.”

  “Why not hire a foreman?”

  “I have one, but he doesn’t like the business side of things.” She squirmed. “And my uncle put a stipulation in the will that I must marry to take ownership.”

  “Ah.” Clint nodded. “We could help each other in that case.”

  “I do believe you’re right, Mr. Routson.”

  “Clint, please.”

  “All right, but you must call me Bess.”

  At that point, he allowed himself enough hope to ask the question. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes, I will.” She gave a shy smile, then laughed. “Life is strange, isn’t it?”

  Her congeniality was contagious, and he chuckled, too. “Yes, it is.”

  Chapter 5

  Bess ran a dishrag over the final plate from dinner while Clint was outside, looking for Nate. After their short ceremony, they’d come home, and she’d made a simple dinner. When they’d finished their meal, her husband had left to introduce himself to the men.

  Her husband. She could hardly believe she was a married woman. The irony in marrying a criminal to have protection didn’t escape her. Yet, she knew Clint was a capable man and wouldn’t allow harm to come to her. Some things a woman just knew.

  She believed in her heart that Clint was a good man. Embarrassment clung to her for her rash outburst when they’d first met earlier, but Clint had been kind about the situation. His eyes expressed genuine remorse for upsetting her, and he wasn’t anything like the insolent man the sheriff had made him out to be. Well, maybe a bit smart mouthed, but not maliciously so.

  And despite his criminal status, Clint was a man of integrity. He’d been completely honest about the events which landed him in jail—she’d asked Mr. Tarleton and Sheriff Daniels both for full disclosure of any information they possessed about him. Wouldn’t any woman in her situation have done the same?

  Nervous laughter tickled her throat on its way out. Most women wouldn’t have even thought about marrying a criminal, let alone actually carried through with the act. But she wasn’t most women, and she was a bit desperate.

  Although, she hadn’t thought she’d marry so soon. When she’d left for town that morning, she’d taken a carpet bag with an extra dress, with the expectation she’d stay at the boarding house for a few days before exchanging vows. She couldn’t find it in herself to spend another night alone in the house, such was her terror from last night.

  Now here she was, praying Clint would take his time coming back into the house. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, but would he still expect more from it? Namely, his husbandly rights? The very idea sent her into a near panic. She wanted a husband to be near her for protection, but wasn't ready for what else accompanied that.

  The door opened, and Clint entered the house. So much for her wish of him taking his time.

  She took a few seconds to look at him. He was a handsome man. His blonde hair wasn’t much different in hue than hers, but it looked more vibrant on him. Amber eyes took in the world around him, and Bess could tell he didn’t miss much, even though his observation of situations was subtle. He had broad shoulders that filled out the top of his long coat and a confident swagger when he walked.

  “Did you find Nate?” She moved the dried dishes to their spots on the shelf.

  “No, he went into town not long after we came home.” Clint removed his coat and hung it on a peg. “I had a chance to speak with some of the other ranch hands. You have a quality group of men working here. Strong, loyal, and hard workers.”

  “How do you know that from a brief visit?” She poured him a cup of coffee from the percolator on the stove. Anything to delay the inevitable conversation about sleeping arrangements. “Here you go.”

  He took the offered cup and sat at the table. “Work in this business and you learn soon enough how to read a man. Sound judgment can mean the difference between life and death.”

  “I think I need those lessons,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” She poured a cup for herself and joined him at the table.

  They talked for an hour, sharing a conversation that came easily. Bess found herself grateful for having a companionable husband. She envisioned the evenings ahead, looking forward to them.

  After a spell, Clint pushed back his chair, stretched his legs then stood. “Do you have any extra bedding? If not, I’ll ask the men when I go out to the bunkhouse. I’m sure someone will have some.”

  “There’s some upstairs. Stay here and I’ll get some for you.” She scooted her chair and stood. The reasons for his request didn’t dawn on her until she’d taken a few steps. “What do you mean, when you go out to the
bunkhouse?”

  Something flickered in his eyes, but she didn’t know him well enough to understand what it meant.

  He hooked a thumb behind his belt. “I thought I’d sleep out there.”

  “Why?”

  “I know this is a marriage based on convenience and that it’s in name only. I won’t be expecting more from you.”

  “But, you can’t sleep in the bunkhouse.” Mortified that her statement came out as an exclamation, she averted his gaze, only looking at him again when she heard a muffled chuckle.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it would look bad,” she said, spitting out the first reason that came to mind, no matter how weak it was. “You’re their boss and need to maintain authority.”

  “And just where do you propose I sleep, Mrs. Routson?” He wiggled his brows, and she wished he wasn’t so charming.

  Before she answered, she took a deep breath. “My bed is plenty big enough for both of us. There’s no reason we can’t each have our own side.”

  She prayed he wouldn’t make any more comments. Discussing their sleeping arrangements was awkward enough without adding to it.

  “Are you ready to turn in now?” He still stood by the table.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll wash these cups before I come up, to give you time to get ready.” He grabbed both from the table. “Why don’t you leave the door open when you’re done so I know it’s okay to enter.”

  His consideration touched her. “I’ll do that. Thank you, Clint.”

  He nodded his acknowledgment then stepped to the wash basin.

  Bess hurried up the stairs and quickly exchanged her dress for the comfort of her nightgown. She let loose her braid and performed her nightly rituals. When she finished, she opened the door, then ran back to the bed. She curled under the quilt and tucked it snugly around her body. Then she rolled over, facing the far wall and feigned sleep, lest she have to acknowledge her husband when he came in.