Prologue

Harrington Ranch

Deer Creek, Arizona 1880

“If only,” Belle whispered as she rested the book, page down, against her chest.

It was later in the night than she’d hoped. Her parents should have been home already, but she’d had a new book to keep her distracted. In the book, a handsome hero had come and swept a young woman off her feet, rescuing her from another man who wished her dead. That idea was appealing to Belle, and she wondered if someday she might be swept off her feet, too.

At twenty-six years old, there was still much to learn about the world. However, she could only read for so long before a headache would strike and plague her the rest of the night.

Most nights, when the Harringtons went out to socialize, the went as a family. Tonight, however, her parents had insisted she stay behind, despite her protests. They’d promised to be home shortly after dark, but the sun had set hours ago.

The house creaked as the wind breathed through, promising a summer storm. At the window, Belle searched for a sign of the horizon, but no moonlight peeked through the clouds.

She sighed, steaming up the glass in front of her. It did nothing to obscure her view, as the night was black as pitch. Instead, she saw striking green eyes staring back at her. Resisting the urge to tap her fingers against the windowsill, she opted instead to make a cup of chamomile tea.

Anxiety crept into her chest, threatening to scare her out of a decent night’s sleep. The house was eerily quiet; while Belle often stayed up late, usually, she could hear the rise and fall of her father’s snoring, an ever-present reminder of her parents’ presence.

The sprawling ranch around the house seemed to hold its breath as it awaited the coming storm. Belle kept her ears pricked for the sound of northbound carriage wheels. As she waited for the kettle to boil, she combed through her long, dark hair and twisted it into a braid.

When she’d finished, the tip of her braid rested on the generous curve of her waist. The wind picked up, rattling the windows as rain began to fall. Belle took a deep breath as she poured hot water over the fluffy yellow flowers in her teacup, then sat at the kitchen table.

Shh… pat, pat, pat…

Her tea and the storm outside seemed to brew at an equal pace. Belle closed her eyes, listening as the susurration of a gentle shower grew ever stronger until fat drops were hitting the roof with increasing frequency.

Pat, pat, splat…

Abrupt gusts of charged air swept through the trees outside, and the distant crack of a snapping wood reached her ears. The weather had come in from the south, which meant her parents were caught in the rain—now a downpour—and building winds.

Worry swirled in her stomach as she took her first sip of tea. The teacup rattled against the saucer as she set it down. She felt small and lonely knowing her parents were out in the storm, and suddenly, it seemed the house and ranch around her stretched on forever.

There’s nothing you can do, Belle, she told herself, smoothing her nightdress unnecessarily to calm her growing anxiety. They should’ve been home already, but it wasn’t as if she could go out and search for them. Her only option was to wait, and somehow, that comforted her.

The chamomile did its trick, and soon, she had fallen asleep, her head on the kitchen table the steady sounds of wind and rain lulling her into slumber.

A crack of thunder startled her awake. Her candle had gone out, leaving her in darkness.

“Mother? Father?”

No answer—only the pelting of rain against the house.

Her heart caught in her throat as she stood. How long have I been asleep?

Belle reached for her tea, but found that it had gone cold. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she fumbled for a match to light the candle. With the taper lit, she padded down the hall and upstairs, desperate to hear something—snoring, talking, even soft breathing—within the house.

The hallway was still, empty. The door to her parents’ room creaked as she pushed it open. The room was vacant, and her heart sank. Looking toward the window, she saw that the rain still fell, but the first blush of dawn was creeping over the horizon.

Her parents should have been home hours ago.

Something’s wrong. Belle closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

She did her best to convince herself that her parents had waited out the storm at the hotel—surely, they’d have known that the road wasn’t safe and decided to stay in town rather than risk it.

She clung to the thought as yet another half-hour crept by.

She returned to her book, hoping to distract herself, but found herself reading the same passage over and over; she couldn’t concentrate on anything other than listening for the sound of hooves and carriage wheels.

Finally, the storm calmed, and Belle heard horseshoes crunching against the gravel of the driveway. Her chair’s legs squealed against the floor as she pushed back, almost knocking it over in her rush to reach the front door. She shoved the door open and burst onto the veranda, eager to run into her parents’ arms.

However, it was not her mother or father that awaited her. Rather, the sheriff stood waiting, twisting his hat in his hands.

“Thomas?” she panted.

“Belle…” Sheriff Thomas’s voice cracked, and somehow, Belle knew what he was going to say next.

She sunk to her knees. “No,” she whispered, then all but shouted the word. “No!”

Her cry echoed across the ranch as Thomas raced to her side. He knelt beside her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Maggie, the family cook, emerged from her cottage and hurried toward them. She was joined shortly by the ranch hand, Elijah, who had already been busy in the stables when the sheriff arrived.

Tears burned Belle’s cheeks. “What happened?” she croaked. When Thomas hesitated, she narrowed her eyes, pinning him with a watery stare. “Tell me!”

The sheriff cleared his throat. “The storm broke just as your parent’s carriage was crossing the bridge,” he said. “The creek flooded, washed over the bridge… their carriage was no match for the force.”

Belle could barely breathe as sobs robbed her of the ability to speak.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas murmured, squeezing her tighter. “My men are searching for them downstream, but…” His shoulders fell as he shook his head.

Maggie gasped loudly and fell into Elijah’s arms.

In mere moments, Belle’s entire life had crumbled. For hours, sat on the veranda, crying, unwilling to go inside. She knew the house would be quiet, that she would never find comfort there again.

***

Two stone crosses stood, stark against the setting sun, as Belle tried to muster her courage. Though most of the town had turned out for the funeral, she felt entirely alone. People spoke kindly, recounting fond memories of her parents, but Belle barely heard a word.

Her joy had washed away in the storm.

After the funeral, Maggie and Elijah led Belle away, toward the house. It stood at the far end of the ranch, atop a small hill. From the veranda, she could see the entirety of her family’s land.

The white paint of the house was usually fronted by flowers; however, as her parents had died, so had the flowers. Now, the once-bright walls seemed dirty and gray.

As they neared the house, Belle slowed, reluctant to approach.

The Harrington’s home had once felt warm, welcoming. Today, it taunted her, a looming reminder of her solitude. Over the past few days, no laughter had sounded within those walls. Maggie didn’t sing as she cooked; no one smiled as Belle entered the room.

“It’s going to be alright, darling.” Maggie tugged gently on Belle’s arm, urging her along.

Belle shook her head. “I wake up each morning and wonder why I bother to get out of bed.”

“You have more than enough reason,” Maggie replied. “This is your ranch now. That includes me and Elijah, and heaven knows we need some guidance—especially now.”

Belle clenched her jaw, but nodded.

Her heart had frozen, and her head hadn’t stopped hurting since the night she’d lost her parents. She spent half of each day crying, the other half asleep. Every night, she prayed she’d wake to find it had all been nothing more than a terrible dream.

More than that, though, Belle wished that she’d gone with her parents that night. She’d rather have washed away with them than live without them.

While those who’d attended the funeral would stay a while, enjoying a meal and a drink together, Belle had made it clear that she didn’t want to stay. She couldn’t stand to answer another question about how she was coping, because in truth, she wasn’t. Her life had come to a standstill, and she didn’t expect it to get any better.

“I’m going to need you, Maggie—both of you.” Belle’s chest grew tight as she met the older woman’s eyes. “Please tell me you’ll stay.”

Maggie smiled. “Dearling, I have watched you grow from a baby.” She raised her hand to Belle’s cheek. “We’re family. I’m not going anywhere, and neither is Elijah. This is our home as much as it is yours.”

As they reached the front door, Belle hesitated, so Maggie took the liberty of opening the door.

Devastating silence met them as they stepped inside. Though Belle had been alone in the house for a while already, something about the funeral made the isolation feel more permanent.

“I’ve kept some food aside for you,” Maggie said. “Would you like me to stay? I’ve already told Elijah what to do with our guests.”

“No,” Belle replied. “Thank you for everything, but you should be out there with Elijah. Someone needs to represent the family, and I…”

Maggie nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. If you need anything, just knock on my door.”

“Thank you, Maggie.” Belle forced a smile. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’re perfectly capable, dearling.” Maggie patted Belle’s arm. “You’ll prove that to yourself soon enough.”

With that, Maggie left, and Belle sat down for what would surely be the loneliest meal of her life. She gazed through the kitchen window as the overwhelming weight of her responsibility set in. The entire ranch was now hers to run. She’d been raised here and, thus, knew what to do, but the knowledge seemed suddenly foreign.

She didn’t know where to begin, but she had no choice but to figure it out. As the sun set over the land, so vanished the last few drops of faith Belle had left within her.

Chapter One

Harrington Ranch

Deer Creek, Arizona, 1882

Two years later

The house groaned as cold set in, and Belle shivered. Two years since her parent’s death, she still struggled to master the finances. Literature and art had always been her strengths; while her mother had taught her to manage the books, Belle was exhausted, and struggled to find time to dedicate to the task, important as it was.

That night, she had time to spare, so she’d settled in, determined to catch up. The ranch was in trouble, owing to unforeseen difficulties that seemed to plague them constantly. Weather had delayed them in sewing the fields, which threatened their crop yield. The cattle herds were dwindling, too, with fewer calves born each year.

Not to mention the repairs required to maintain the fences and buildings. Each day when Belle walked past the barn she became increasingly aware of its deterioration. Fixing it had been on her list of priorities for months—along with a multitude of other issues.

Now, as she slogged through the paperwork for the bank for the first time in weeks, she was confronted with just how far they’d fallen behind.

Belle rubbed her eyes and sighed. What am I going to do?

Her mind raced, struggling with the stress of it all. Tension grew in her neck, tightening her shoulders. The books lay spread before her, demanding her attention as tears pricked her eyes.

Maggie’s head poked into the room. “There you are—I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Belle relaxed a bit, the familiar sound of Maggie’s voice soothing her worries for the moment. “I’m sorry, were you calling me? What do you need?”

“It’s not what I need.” Maggie tutted. “I’ve got your dinner. I found your lunch plate untouched, the food cold.”

Belle groaned. “I forgot about lunch entirely.”

“That seems to have become a habit lately,” Maggie replied dryly, a note of reprove in her voice.

Maggie held out a tray of food as Belle searched for her appetite, but found none.

“Set it on the table over there, and I’ll eat it later.”

“I would, but I don’t really believe you.”

Belle sighed, running a hand down her braid. “I’m not hungry.”

A large helping of beef pie with a side of peas—her favorite—waited for her on the coffee table, and for a moment, Belle believed they might have found a compromise. However, when Maggie sat on the armchair in front of the desk, Belle knew this was not a compromise, but rather, an intervention.

“I’m worried about you, Belle,” Maggie began.

“You’ve been worried about me for two years,” Belle said curtly. “I’m still standing. I’m fine.”

“You’re not eating or sleeping properly,” Maggie insisted. “It’s not healthy, and it’s not normal.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Belle said with a sigh. “I’m just not hungry.”

Maggie pushed the plate toward her and gave her a knowing smile. “Eat it anyway. You need it, whether you’re hungry or not. Besides, I made this special for you.”

Belle considered; it was a decent enough distraction from the nightmare that was the farm’s finances. However, as she stood, something in her periphery stirred. Her vision blurred to be replaced with a blinding rainbow.

Belle reached up to rub her eye and blinked a few times, but she knew what came next.

Pain bloomed in her head, growing rapidly as she leaned on the table for support.

“What is it?” Maggie asked.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Belle pressed her free hand to her head, dizziness and nausea gripping her head and stomach. The world spun, and the light streaming through the windows set her eyes ablaze.

She heard Maggie jump to her feet. “Not again…”

Before Belle could protest, Maggie was at her side, offering a shoulder to lean on. These migraines had tormented her since she could remember, but over the past two years, they’d grown progressively worse. The headaches made it impossible to do anything, yet she had no control over when they struck.

Maggie helped her out of the study and down the hall to her bedroom.

Belle winced against the dim light streaming through the window. “Please—the light—”

“Give me a moment.” Maggie set Belle down on the bed.

The bed creaked as Belle pressed her head into a pillow. Minor relief came when Maggie drew the heavy curtains and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Belle rolled over onto her side and sighed. Sleep would be the only cure for the pain in her head, but it wouldn’t come easily. The finances still awaited her, and she desperately needed to get them done so that she could get back on top of things.

If things carried on as they were, the ranch would be worth nothing, and it would be on her head. Maggie and Elijah, who’d worked for the Harrington family since before Belle had been born, would be left with nothing.

How will I live with myself?

She lay that way until the faint squeak of the door’s hinges and a different set of footsteps got her attention. Then, the strike of a match, and the room filled with light.

“Maggie, that hurts,” Belle moaned.

“You’ll learn to forgive me,” said an unexpected voice.

She rolled to her side and opened her eye a crack. Through her wavering vision, she could just make out Liz, the town doctor.

“Maggie sent for me,” Liz began, “and I can’t say I’m surprised to find you in this state. In fact, I’m almost certain that I predicted this very situation last time I saw you.”

“Can you help?” Belle pleaded. “There’s too much to do. I can’t afford to be ill.”

“I can try,” Liz replied, “but it’ll only be temporary. Without a real change, you’ll keep getting these headaches, and they’ll only get worse.”

Belle laughed humorlessly. “Oh, I love good news,”

The splash of water and clinking of glass drifted from the other side of the room. Belle tried to see what Liz was doing, but each time she opened her eyes, searing pain coursed through her head. She’d almost grown accustomed to the pain over the years—until it had worsened earlier that year.

“Sit up,” Liz said.

“I’d rather lie down.”

“Don’t be so stubborn. I’m only trying to help. Now, scoot to the edge of the bed, and put your feet on the ground.”

Belle raised her throbbing head off the pillow and did as Liz had instructed. Her skull felt three time its size, ready to explode.

“Right, put your feet in this.” Liz pointed to something on the floor.

Belle lowered her feet, and they sank into warm water. Before long, a slow crawl of comfort eased some of the pain. However, that comfort was disturbed when something cold was pressed against her neck.

She flinched, but Liz reached grasped her shoulder, keeping her in place.

“I read about this last week, and it made me think of you,” Liz explained. “This treatment is supposed to ease the symptoms.”

Belle put her hands on the bed to steady herself. “But there’s no cure?”

“No,” Liz said dryly. “Just be grateful I’m a woman. If you were in the city with one of them man doctors, he’d probably say you’ve got weak nerves.”

“These nerves?” Belle chuckled weakly. “They might be right.”

“No, you’ve got strong nerves—what you don’t have is a decent meal and a good night’s sleep in you. Have you been sticking to my recommendations? I gave you a list of foods that might ease your symptoms.”

“Ask Maggie,” Belle answered. “She makes my meals.”

“I did ask her, and she says you hardly eat at all.”

Belle didn’t have to look at Liz to know the doctor was giving her a stern look. She could hear it in her voice.

“I’m not hungry most days.”

Liz was unmoved. “You must be at least a little hungry from time to time—that’s just how the body works.”

Belle listened to the wind as it pushed through the leaves of the tree outside her window. It reminded her that, even though her own body was struggling, the natural world would carry on with ease.

“You need help, Belle,” Liz said. “Hire some help. I promise, less stress is the cure to what ails you.”

Belle took a deep breath and let it out on a hiss. “You just said there is no cure,”

Liz smirked. “You’re too quick. Alright, it won’t cure you, but it’ll certainly ease these symptoms.”

“Well, I can’t afford to hire help. It’s the finances that put me in this position. We’re running out of money.”

Liz sat on the bed next to Belle and handed her a glass. Belle took it and drained it with a gulp, but nearly gagged. It tasted bitter, and she felt the grainy texture of powder on her tongue.

“What was that?” she gasped.

“Opium. To help you sleep. It’s the best I can do to help you right now.” Liz put a warm hand on Belle’s back. “You need to rest.”

While she didn’t like the idea of taking opium, Belle was eager for sleep. She knew it would likely only be a matter of minutes before it came over her.

“What if you didn’t hire someone, but had help anyway?” Liz asked.

Belle spread out on her bed again, resting her head as she waited for the effects of the opium to take hold. “How would that work?”

“You could marry. You’re twenty-eight, and you won’t get any younger. You can’t stay cooped up here, suffering, for the rest of your life.”

Belle giggled, feeling a dizzy euphoria wash over her. “Who? I don’t know anyone! This place keeps me too busy.”

It was true—every spare minute of Belle’s day was dedicated to running the ranch. If she wasn’t helping Elijah with the cattle, she was tending the crops, or cleaning out the stables, or tracking down a wayward sheep.

“You don’t have to know a man to marry him these days. You could place an ad.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Belle said. “A stranger?”

“He’d get a roof over his head, and you’d have help,” Liz said. “Someone would be interested.”

“I don’t need anyone,” Belle grumbled. “I’m fine.”

“When was the last time you wore a dress?”

Belle had switched her dresses out for trousers ages ago; skirts only got in the way on a ranch.

Liz closed her bag and let out a soft sigh. “The last six times I’ve visited, you’ve had trousers on. You’ve lost yourself, Belle, and you need help getting back.”

***

By the time Belle awoke the next day, afternoon sun was already dappling the leaves a golden hue. Maggie had not disturbed her once.

When she finally made it downstairs, Belle found that she was starving. She gulped down a much-delayed breakfast and headed back to the study. Much to her disappointment, the remained as she’d left them.

A quick glance out the window showed that Elijah was busy repairing the latch on the barn door while a horse nudged him for attention. The man was starting to look as tired as Belle felt.

She heard Maggie downstairs, tirelessly scrubbing away at something, and couldn’t remember the last time the cook had been granted a day’s rest.

They deserve better.

Belle reached into a drawer, pulled out a loose sheet of paper, and started writing.

Seeking A Husband

Twenty-six-year-old woman seeks an able-bodied bachelor for marriage of convenience. Must understand the workings of a ranch. Must like horses. Must ask few questions.

She read through the ad several times, making a few revisions, before slipping it into an envelope to be sent off. Instantly, her nerves came ablaze as she considered the possibility of a response. Marriage hadn’t crossed her mind at all since her parents died, and she wondered if she’d even know how to be a wife.

There was no time for her to learn, in any case. Too many things required her attention, so she pushed her nerves aside and headed outside to oversee the repairs to the barn.