Prologue

Cheyenne, Wyoming, Summer 1891

The room was stifling, the air thick with the smell of leather-bound books and pipe tobacco. Flies buzzed noisily against the glass. Susan Thornton’s light cotton shawl hung loosely over her shoulders as she shifted in her seat, drops of perspiration forming on her neck. Her stomach had been in knots since the day before when she received the lawyer’s letter saying he had important business to discuss—business that could not wait.

Now, Mr. Jennings sat across from her at his heavy oak desk, his weathered hands resting on a pile of papers. He was a man of advancing years, with silver hair combed neatly back, though a few stubborn strands insisted on falling across his wrinkled forehead. His face was lean, the angles of his cheekbones sharpened by time, giving him an austere, almost hawk-like appearance. His eyes were a faded blue, clouded slightly with age.

Everything about the lawyer spoke of careful deliberation—the way he smoothed his mustache when he spoke and the precise way he adjusted the papers on his desk. He was not a man given to emotion. He dealt with facts, legalities, and the finality of the written word.

Still, today, Susan could see that even Mr. Jennings wasn’t entirely comfortable. There was stiffness in his posture as if he knew the gravity of what he was about to reveal; he braced himself for her reaction.

“Well, Miss Thornton, as you know, your father’s recent passing has left his affairs in need of settling.”

He paused for a moment, glancing down at the papers on the desk before he looked up at her again.

“As it now stands, your cousin, Thomas, will inherit the ranch under Wyoming’s legal inheritance rules.”

The words echoed in her ears, sharp and cruel.

Thomas? No. The very idea of it made her stomach churn. How could everything she and her father built go to someone like him?

“That can’t be right,” Susan stammered, her voice shaking.

“I am afraid it is,” Mr. Jennings confirmed.

Susan said nothing, struggling to find the words. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t.

“Miss Thornton, are you feeling all right?”

Susan shook her head, fighting back tears.

“Can I fetch you a glass of water?” he offered.

Without waiting for a response, Mr. Jennings got up and walked over to the small drinks cart on the other side of the room.

A moment later, he returned, handing her a glass of water before taking his seat again.

Susan stared down at the glass for a moment and then placed it on the desk without taking a sip.

Mr. Jennings cleared his throat.

“I understand this is upsetting—”

“Upsetting?” Susan said, her voice rising. “Thomas couldn’t tell a horse from a mule if his life depended on it! He’s useless, Mr. Jennings. He can’t manage a ranch! He barely manages himself.”

Her chest heaved with the anger that had been bubbling inside her since the funeral.

“Father would never have wanted this—”

Mr. Jennings raised his hand gently, motioning for calm. “Miss Thornton, your father was well aware of Thomas’s shortcomings.”

“Then why—”

“That’s why,” Jennings continued, “Your father had the foresight to add a stipulation in the will.”

Susan blinked, the fire in her chest cooling for a moment. “A stipulation?”

Jennings laid the paper on the desk, adjusting his spectacles once again. “Your father anticipated that Thomas might not be fit to handle the ranch on his own. So he included a clause—one that offers you the chance to retain the property.”

Susan’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”

“If you marry within two months of your father’s passing, the ranch will transfer to your husband instead of Thomas.”

The room spun.

“Marriage?” she repeated, the very word felt foreign on her tongue.

“That’s right,” Mr. Jennings repeated.

She had not given it much thought before. After all, she had the ranch to tend to—her father to look after. As a much younger woman, Susan had always wondered if she would get married. Yet the ranch had always come first, and now, at twenty-two years old, the idea had become less and less likely.

“And if I don’t marry?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jennings’s expression softened. “Then the ranch will go to Thomas.”

The weight of it crashed down on her. In two months, she would either be married or lose everything—everything she and her father had worked for, everything she had poured her heart and soul into.

“This… this isn’t fair,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I can’t—how am I supposed to just find someone and marry them?”

“I understand it’s a lot to take in,” Jennings said quietly. “But your father believed you could make the best choice for your future, Susan. He trusted your judgment.”

Trust? The word felt hollow now. How could she be expected to make such a decision when her heart was still raw from losing him?

Without thinking, she rose from the chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor as she pushed back. “I need time,” she said, her voice tight.

“Of course,” Mr. Jennings replied, rising as well. “You have two months.”

Two months. It felt like a lifetime and no time at all.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left the office, the heavy door creaking shut behind her. The oppressive heat of the Wyoming summer hit her as soon as she stepped outside.

As she made her way down the street, she caught sight of her reflection in a shop window. Her green eyes were filled with uncertainty, and the old Stetson hat, which once belonged to her father, shaded her face, masking the freckles on the bridge of her nose and cheekbones. Although she was tall and lean from years working the ranch, her shoulders were slumped as if some invisible weight rested on them.

***

The sky stretched wide and endlessly above Susan as she headed back toward the ranch, her heart heavy as she traveled the dusty road. The wind had picked up some, carrying with it the faint scent of sagebrush and earth, but she barely noticed. Her mind was spinning, the words of the lawyer still ringing in her ears.

Marriage? It was ridiculous. She had never even had a proper beau, for goodness sake. What did she know about love or even about finding a husband? The closest she’d ever been to romance was when her friends had dared her to kiss Billy Finnigan behind the schoolhouse when they were fifteen. She had done it, cheeks burning red, just to prove she wasn’t afraid. But that was years ago, and Billy had left town soon after. Since then, her life had been the ranch, the cattle, and her father. There had never been time for courting or for imagining what a future with a man might look like.

Now, out of nowhere, she was supposed to marry—within two months, no less. All her life, her father had always taught her to rely on herself, and now she felt as if she were being forced into something that she did not want.

As she climbed the hill and over the rise in the road, the familiar shape of the ranch came into view. The house, a sturdy two-story with a wide porch, sat nestled between rolling hills and acres of grazing land. The sun was low in the sky, casting a golden light across the weathered wood, making the land glow like a place frozen in time. The pastures stretched out beyond the house, dotted with cattle grazing lazily in the late afternoon. The barn stood tall just to the right of the house, its red paint peeling in places from years of battling the harsh Wyoming elements. It was home—the only place she’d ever truly known.

She drove the wagon toward the barn and dealt with unhitching the horse and settling her into her stall. Then, she crossed the narrow strip of land between the barn and the house. Just as she neared the porch, her steps faltered.

There was Thomas, leaning against one of the porch posts, a piece of grass dangling from his mouth like he hadn’t a care in the world. His boots were caked with dust, but she doubted he’d done a thing to earn it. His black hair, tousled and unkempt, caught the fading light, and his green eyes followed her with a lazy, arrogant amusement that sent a chill down her spine.

“Well, if it isn’t little Susie,” he drawled, not bothering to straighten up as she approached. “Back from town already? How did the meeting with the lawyer go?

Her jaw tightened at the smugness in his voice. He had always called her “Susie” just to rile her up, knowing full well that it grated on her nerves.

“None of your business, Thomas,” she snapped, brushing past him and mounting the steps. The boards creaked under her feet as she pushed open the front door, but she could still feel his eyes on her back.

“Ain’t it?” he called after her, his voice full of mockery. “Seems to me like a lot of things might be my business now, what with me inheritin’ the place and all.”

She froze for a split second, her heart pounding in her ears. He knew. Of course, he did. Somehow, Thomas had always seemed to know when there was trouble to stir. She clenched her fists so hard her knuckles ached but didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. Instead, she stormed inside, slamming the door behind her.

Inside the house, the familiar smell of wood smoke and pine greeted her, but the comfort it usually brought was lost on her now.

She climbed the stairs, feeling as though the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders, making each step harder than the last. When she reached her room, she didn’t even bother to light the lamp. The fading light from the window cast long shadows on the walls, and she collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in her hands.

How did it come to this? she wondered, the ache in her chest growing sharper with every passing moment.

Her life had already turned upside down when her father died. But now this—the ranch slipping through her fingers, the pressure to marry—it was too much.

Downstairs, Thomas was whistling to himself, and Susan gritted her teeth.

Thomas was the son of her mother’s brother. He had come to live with them after his father had gambled away their own ranch years ago before drinking himself into an early grave. Susan was just sixteen at the time, and even then, she could see the bitterness in Thomas.

She remembered how her father, with all his good heartedness, had taken Thomas in without a second thought, offering him a fresh start. But Thomas hadn’t wanted a fresh start—he wanted an easy life. He left most of the work to her and the hired hands, barely pulling his weight.

Over the years, she’d lost count of the number of times she found him napping in the barn, dust from the hay gathering in his thick black hair while she mended fences or drove the cattle back in after a storm.

And when the sun set and the real work of the day was done, Thomas was always quick to disappear into town, blowing what little money he earned on drinks and games of chance at the saloon.

How could he inherit her beloved ranch? The question gnawed at her. He was cruel, petty, and quick to anger when he didn’t get his way, always more interested in boasting to his friends than in learning how to care for the land. And now the ranch—the home her father had loved and worked his whole life to preserve—was set to fall into his hands.

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She didn’t have the luxury of falling apart. Not now. Not with everything hanging in the balance.

But no matter how hard she tried to push the thought away, it kept creeping back.

I have to get married.

The thought terrified her more than anything else. She had always been independent and strong. She had never needed a man to get by, but it was more than that. She loved the ranch. It was the only life she’d ever known, and she didn’t know who she would be without it.

And now she was being forced to choose between her home and her independence. The problem was she didn’t know what choice to make, and either way, she was going to lose.

Chapter One

Cheyenne, Wyoming, Summer 1891

The midmorning sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting soft patches of light on the worn wooden table where Susan sat, cradling a steaming cup in her hands. Across from her, Emily Harrison leaned forward, her blue eyes bright and expectant.

“So?” Emily said. “What’s going on?”

Susan took a deep breath. A week had passed since she received the news from the lawyer. Her first instinct was to go to Emily, but her friend had only just returned to town after visiting relatives.

“Suze?” she pressed a crease in her brow. “What’s up?”

“My father’s will…” she finally said, her voice low.

Emily’s face softened with concern. “What happened?”

With a frustrated sigh, Susan set her teacup down, the porcelain clinking loudly against the wooden table. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and ran a hand through her auburn hair.

“Thomas is set to inherit the ranch.”

Emily’s eyes widened in shock, her cup frozen halfway to her lips. “Thomas? But how can that be? Your father wanted you to have the ranch—everyone knows you’ve been running it for years.”

Susan let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head.

“That’s the way it should be, but the law doesn’t care about what’s right.” She leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting toward the window as she spoke, the familiar landscape outside blurring with the painful truth.

“Under Wyoming law, married daughters can inherit, with the property being “owned” by both her and her husband. If I don’t get married, that means Thomas—of all people—gets the ranch. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been working this land since I was old enough to hold a rake. It doesn’t matter that I know every inch of it better than anyone.”

Emily’s brow furrowed as she set her cup down gently, the realization settling in. “But surely your father could have left it to you in his will?”

“He tried,” Susan said, her voice growing quieter as the weight of her situation pressed down on her again. “He left a stipulation. If I marry within two months of his passing, the ranch will transfer to me and my husband. It’s his way of keeping the land out of Thomas’s hands, I guess. But it’s not that simple.”

Emily frowned, clearly trying to make sense of it. “Why would your father do that? He knew you weren’t ready to get married, didn’t he?”

Susan sighed, her gaze drifting back to Emily. “He did, but I think he thought he was protecting me. He knew how important the ranch is, and he knew the law wasn’t on my side. I suppose he thought that if I had a husband, the ranch would be safe, and I wouldn’t have to worry about Thomas swooping in to take it. But I can’t help but feel… trapped.”

Emily’s hand covered Susan’s gently, her expression full of sympathy. “So, you have to find a husband—quickly—or everything you and your father worked for goes to Thomas?”

Susan nodded, her jaw tightening. “Exactly. And you know Thomas. He doesn’t know the first thing about running the place. He’d sell it off piece by piece, or worse, let it fall apart while he wastes the money in town. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, a steady reminder that time was slipping away. Susan stared into the tea swirling in her cup, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. Marriage had never been part of her plans right now, and now, it felt like a trap she couldn’t escape.

Then, out of nowhere, Emily’s eyes lit up. She leaned in eagerly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Suze, I’ve got it.”

Susan blinked, her gaze lifting from her tea to meet her friend’s animated expression. She wasn’t sure she liked the look on Emily’s face. It was the kind of look that always led to trouble.

“Got what?”

“A solution!” Emily straightened up in her chair, her hands clasped in excitement. “A mail-order bride ad.”

For a moment, Susan thought she hadn’t heard her correctly. Her brow furrowed, her fingers tightening around her cup as she stared at Emily in disbelief.

“A what?”

“A mail-order bride ad, only just in reverse!” Emily repeated with enthusiasm, her smile widening as if she’d just offered the most practical suggestion in the world. “It’s perfect, Susan! You place an ad in the paper, men write back, and you choose someone to marry. People do it all the time out West. It’s how men find wives—and many of them are perfectly happy!”

Susan leaned back in her chair, completely thrown. A mail-order husband? The idea seemed so foreign, so far removed from anything she’d ever imagined for herself.

“Emily,” she said slowly, “you can’t be serious.”

“Of course I am!” Emily reached across the table and grabbed Susan’s hand, her eyes sparkling with that same dreamy, romantic glow that had always baffled Susan. “Just think about it. There are men out there who are looking for wives, and you—well, you need a husband, don’t you?”

“I need a husband to keep the ranch,” Susan corrected, her voice flat. “Not because I want one.”

Emily waved a hand dismissively. “But that’s just it! You could find someone who loves the land as much as you do, who understands what the ranch means to you.” She leaned in again, her voice full of excitement. “Someone who knows, maybe you’ll find someone you could actually… care about.”

Susan raised an eyebrow. “A husband from an ad? A stranger?”

Emily’s cheeks flushed as she smiled. “Strangers can become more than that, Susan. Haven’t you ever read those stories in the newspaper? The ones about women out West who find love and adventure by answering ads for mail-order brides?”

Susan couldn’t help but groan. She had heard Emily gush about those stories more times than she could count. Tales of women who’d boarded trains, leaving their old lives behind to start fresh with a man they’d never met. And according to Emily, every single one of them found happiness.

But real life wasn’t like the stories in the back of the newspaper. “Emily,” Susan said, shaking her head, “those are stories. In real life, a man you meet through an ad could be… well, anyone. What if he’s worse than Thomas?”

Emily waved off the concern. “Oh, please. He couldn’t be worse than Thomas.”

Susan frowned. She wasn’t so sure. After all, what kind of man would marry someone just to gain control of a ranch? Her mind raced with all the things that could go wrong. She could end up with a man who was just as lazy and cruel as Thomas—or worse.

Emily, still holding her hand, squeezed it gently.

“I know it sounds a little… strange. But what other choice do you have? You said it yourself—you have to marry, and you don’t have much time. This way, at least, you get to choose who you marry. You can find someone who wants the same things you do, someone who might respect you.”

“Respect me?” Susan scoffed softly. “How can I trust a man who’s willing to marry someone he’s never even met?”

Emily’s expression softened, her voice lowering to a kind whisper. “Maybe he’ll be someone who’s looking for a fresh start, just like you. Someone who needs a home, a partner. There are good men out there, Susan. You just have to have a little faith.”

Susan sighed, slumping back in her chair.

“Faith,” she repeated under her breath.

She wasn’t sure if she had any left to give. The past week had drained her and left her feeling as if her life was no longer her own. The idea of putting an ad in the paper, of finding a husband like picking out a new saddle, was so foreign to her.

Yet, as much as Susan wanted to dismiss the idea outright, she knew she couldn’t. After all, it wasn’t like she was falling over suitors at the moment. And if she waited too long, the ranch would slip out of her hands and into Thomas’s.

The very thought made her stomach turn.

Finally, she lifted her head and met Emily’s gaze. “Fine,” she said, her voice resigned. “I’ll think about it.”

Before Susan could say anything more, Emily got up from her chair, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Where are you going?”

“I am going to help you write the ad,” Emily said.

“What? Emily, no,” Susan argued. “I said I’d think about it.”

“Yes, but I know you,” Emily said, her eyes twinkling. “And besides, there’s no time to waste!”

Susan opened her mouth to refuse, but Emily was already halfway across the room, her skirts swishing as she hurried into the small study off the kitchen. Susan groaned inwardly but couldn’t stop herself from getting up and following her.

She found Emily standing at the desk, pulling out paper and an inkpot with the determination of a woman on a mission.

“Emily, we don’t need to do this right now,” Susan said, hovering by the door, her tone more desperate than she intended.

“Nonsense,” Emily said briskly, dipping the pen into the ink. “The sooner we get this done, the better. You said it yourself—you don’t have much time. We’ll write the perfect advertisement, and you’ll have suitors lined up before the ink’s even dry!”

Susan crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m not trying to have suitors lining up, Emily. This isn’t about finding love. I simply need a—”

“A partner for the ranch, I know,” Emily cut in, waving the pen dismissively. “But that doesn’t mean the ad has to be all business. You can attract more bees with honey, Suze. Trust me.”

Before Susan could protest further, Emily began scribbling on the page, her brow furrowed in concentration. “How about this?” she began, her voice dreamy and soft, as if she were spinning a romantic tale.

“To the kind-hearted gentleman who longs for adventure and a devoted companion…”

Susan’s eyes widened in horror. “Emily!”

Emily glanced up, unfazed. “What? You need to catch their attention.”

“With that?” Susan crossed the room in two quick strides, peering over Emily’s shoulder at the paper.

“A kind-hearted gentleman longing for adventure? I’m looking for a man who can pull his weight on a cattle ranch, not some wide-eyed dreamer who thinks he’s riding into the Wild West to play hero.”

Emily ignored her, tapping her pen thoughtfully against the desk. “Alright, maybe we’ll revise that. But you still need something more… enticing. Listen to this.” She dipped the pen into the ink again and continued writing, her voice taking on that same romantic lilt.

“A spirited and independent woman seeks a strong, capable man to share in the beauty of the Wyoming plains. Together, we will build a life full of promise and passion, where love blooms as freely as the wildflowers…”

“Emily, stop!” Susan practically yanked the pen out of her friend’s hand, shaking her head in disbelief. “Wildflowers? Passion? This isn’t a romance novel!”

Emily’s lips twitched into a smile as she clasped her hands, feigning an innocent look.

“Well, it could be if you let it. Besides, why can’t you have both—a strong, capable man and a little passion? It wouldn’t hurt.”