That young woman had been a fool.
Chapter 2
1899 (five years earlier)
Josie
I slid down from my saddle, running a loving hand over Daisy’s neck. She turned to nuzzle my cheek, and I chuckled. Anyone could say whatever they wanted—and they usually did—but horses were the best kinds of friends. Loyal to a fault, silly when they wanted to be, fiery when they needed to be, and they were the absolute best keeper of secrets.
Daisy knew all of mine.
Being the only girl my age among a world of cattlemen didn’t provide much in female companionship, so when the mysterious new ranch hand arrived at the Lucky B, she heard all my thoughts.
Ben—I never asked for a last name, and he never offered one—was different from the others. Quiet and to himself. A little dark and sulky, maybe, but oh so beautiful. Light hair that wasn’t quite blond but not brown either, peeked out in wavy locks from beneath his wide-brimmed dark hat. Hazel, gold-flecked eyes gazed at me boldly when I’d gotten close enough to see them the first time, sending my insides into a flutter I’d never experienced before.
And at eighteen, I’d had plenty of opportunity lately.
My grandparents on my mother’s side were active in Houston’s social circle, and hell-bent on pulling me from “that ranch life” that they felt was beneath me. It was beneath them, really. I couldn’t wrap my head around the endless galas and dinners and teas and formal etiquette they loved so much. I’d find myself on the other end of some boring so-and-so’s son’s diatribe about what he was going to college to do, or what business his father or uncle or grandfather was in to . . . and staring out a window at the land in the distance. Fantasizing about being back on my land. Sitting under the pecan groves and feeling the grass under my fingers. Riding Daisy until my hair shook loose from my perpetual braid.
My father insisted I go. I knew it was to keep the peace with his in-laws. Maybe even assuage some guilt that my mother left them behind and then died having me . . . I didn’t know exactly what his reasons were. But he told me to keep my mind open, and that I could do both. I could love the ranch and still be cultured in polite society. I could marry a suitable businessman and still be connected to my own family’s legacy. The ranch was doing well, rising in status every year in the cattle auction circles. The Lucky B was making a significant name for itself, and I would be considered quite the catch.
I felt quite the catch, all right, every time I met a new suitor. Like I had a sign around my neck listing my assets for bidding.
Ben, however . . .
Ben wasn’t interested in my assets. Or not those.
Ben would smile when I’d accidentally on purpose ride by where he was working, or resting, or taking a break. While the other hands I knew were warned not to look at me that way or speak to me in any manner other than as the boss’s daughter, he would meet my gaze and the darkness would leave his face, and that smile—that smile made my whole day. Every day.
And once we started talking, we never stopped.
He knew about my mother, my life, my inevitable shoveling off to some business heir one day. I learned that he was four years older and from Colorado. A rebel of sorts, come to Texas to work for the great Travis Mason, our nearest neighbor and a horse rancher, and my father’s oldest friend. Mr. Mason soon traded Ben for one of our hands, sending him to work for us. Ben hinted at disagreements being the reason, but that wasn’t my business. He was trying to stay out of trouble, he said.
I told Ben that I secretly dreaded Christmas because it made my father sad. I knew he tried not to be, to give me the excitement of Christmas and my birthday, but I always saw it in his eyes.
I learned that Ben had recently broken off a serious relationship back home—with a tempestuous girl who he realized he barely liked anymore, much less loved. Leaving his whole world behind, he’d come here to start over. He said that he didn’t have to worry about marrying anyone now because no one would want to deal with his past, and he learned with our first timid kiss that I very much wanted him. Past or no.
My father would hate it. My grandparents would revolt. It was unacceptable and improper from every possible angle for Ben and me to meet in secret the way we did. The way I was today, waiting in our spot under the bridge that connected the Lucky B to the Mason property.
I didn’t care. Once he’d kissed me, it was all I could think about. Those lips on mine. His hands, rough and callused, on my face, threading into my hair, which I’d pull down loose just for him. The way he’d groan against my mouth when I’d press close, and then break away, holding me at arm’s length but looking at me with those eyes like—oh, God, I knew it was wrong and improper in a hundred different ways, but I couldn’t get enough. I was falling for the wrong man and couldn’t stop it if I tried.
I was shaking with anticipation when I heard the gait of hooves overhead, and pushed my palm against my stomach to stem the flop it did when he appeared, jogging down the rocks that ran alongside the little bridge, ducking to avoid hitting his head as he joined me on the rocky ledge. It was beautiful here, watching the water bubble by, tucked away in our own little world. Even more beautiful, as
