He glanced around his cabin. His sitting room and kitchen were combined, but it did have a separate bedroom, and at the end of the back porch he had built a washing room. The walls were unlined, and there were no curtains on the windows, even so, it was a snug log cabin. The loft area was yet to be filled in, something he could easily do when it was needed. No reason for a woman to turn her nose up at his home. He was proud of building it almost single-handedly.
It was a good place to live and bring up a family. They were only three miles out of Mountview, another bonus to his way of thinking.
He stepped over to his dresser to retrieve his writing materials. He had to go into town tomorrow so if he had the letter written it would be a good time to post it. He was starting to become fed up with Edward, arrogant young fool. If he had not been George’s son, he would have refused to show him how the ranch worked. As for Edward’s wife Dorothea, she was trouble if ever he saw it.
“I’m relying on you, Rowan, now I’m not doing so good,” George kept saying. “I want Edward to learn from the best, which is you.”
Dear Miranda,
He chewed on the end of the pencil.
You do sound like the kind of gal I would be interested in having a future with. Bob’s recommendation about you character has certainly allayed many of the fears I had about taking such a drastic step as this.
I am thirty-three years old. Never been married. I am nearly six feet tall, have brown hair and blue eyes. I am fit and healthy, and if I do say so myself, this ranch is a slice of paradise. My house is comfortable but does need a woman’s touch to make it a home to be honest.
Except for Bob, I have no living relatives.
I make a good living out of the ranch and can afford to keep a wife in comfort. Other than housekeeping duties, you can do as little or as much as you like of ranch chores. The ranch is only three miles out of Mountview, and if you can ride, and I presume you can, you could easily go into town even if I was too busy to take you.
My need is not urgent, but I would like to get things started between us as soon as possible.
Yours sincerely,
Rowan.
He read it through, and it sounded okay. Like Miranda, he had tried to be honest. He slipped the letter in the envelope and addressed it ready to take into town tomorrow.
***
Three days after she had posted her letter to Rowan Carstairs, her brother Jacob stomped into the kitchen where she was having a cup of coffee. “Do you want one?”
“No. What do you mean by being rude and abusive to Helen?”
“Rude? Abusive? Are you crazy? I haven’t seen her since Monday.”
“It’s Monday I’m talking about. I won’t put up with it, Miranda. Helen and I are getting married and you will just have to like it or go and live somewhere else.”
“I own half of this ranch don’t forget, and the likes of her is not forcing me out of my home. What’s happened to you, Jacob? You’re letting her drag you around like a rag doll.”
“You’ll push me too far, one of these days,” he growled.
“For your information.” She got up from the chair and stared him straight in the face. “I didn’t even speak to her, when we passed in the main street, so how could she say I was abusive?”
“Why don’t you get yourself married,” he snapped. “That’s if any man would have you.”
Couldn’t he see Helen was deliberately driving a wedge between them? She had seen her in the street all right. They hadn’t spoken because Helen’s nose was stuck so high in the air, she was lucky to be able to walk without tripping over.
“I won’t be in for supper. I’m taking Helen to the hotel for a meal.”
“Fine with me, saves cooking. I’ll fry myself a couple of eggs. Don’t forget we have to move those cows and their calves out of the back pasture.”
She only hoped Rowan would write back soon, things were becoming intolerable here. She had often wondered where Helen had come from. She never spoke about her family, not even to Jacob. She had once asked him what he knew about his intended bride and he had admitted virtually nothing except she was born in Canada. And he didn’t see anything strange about it? He was blinded by what he thought was her beauty.
Men would find her attractive enough she supposed; few would put up with such spiteful behavior like he did. Surely, he must have seen it. He could not be so blinded by love, or maybe she had kept her true personality hidden from him.
Almost time for the milking. She had never minded this chore. In the cold weather the cow’s teats would warm up her hands. In her father’s time they had a herd of milking cows and sold the milk to Otto, their Swiss neighbor, who used to make special cheese from it. Something to do with the type of grass that grew on sections of their ranch, he used to say.
After their father died, she and Jacob had decided to do away with the dairy cows, it was too time consuming with just the two of them. Beef cattle brought the most money in and it didn’t tie them down so much. Those early morning milking sessions were hard, especially in the bitter winter cold.
Wandering outside she stared
