“Then I spend every sunrise proving you made the right choice.”
Emma placed both hands against his chest.
Jack inhaled sharply.
“You already have.”
Their first kiss was slow.
Careful.
Jack gave her every chance to move away.
Emma did not.
Instead she leaned closer.
His hand settled at her waist.
The second kiss deepened.
Emma’s fingers gripped his shirt.
She had crossed a thousand miles expecting marriage to begin with an agreement.
Instead, the first moment that truly felt like choosing a husband happened on a porch beneath a Montana sunset.
When they separated, Emma rested her forehead against Jack’s.
“I came west looking for a husband.”
Jack smiled.
“You found something better.”
“What?”
“A partner.”
Emma laughed softly.
Then movement near the tree line caught Jack’s attention.
His expression changed.
Emma turned.
A rider stood beyond the pasture fence.
Too far to identify.
Watching.
Then the horse turned.
The stranger disappeared into the dark.
Emma looked at Jack.
“Friend?”
“No.”
The romance vanished from his face.
“Inside.”
Emma did not move.
“Jack.”
“Please.”
Something in his tone made her obey.
He followed.
Locked the door.
Then crossed to the rifle rack.
Emma watched.
“You know who that was.”
“No.”
“You suspect.”
Jack remained silent.
Emma folded her arms.
“If I am supposed to become your partner, now would be an excellent time to practice.”
Jack looked at her.
She was right.
He hated that she was right.
“There have been riders near the ranch for months.”
“Why?”
“Land.”
Emma frowned.
“My northern pasture borders a creek.”
“Railroad surveyors think a freight spur might come through next year.”
“That makes the land valuable.”
“More valuable than I thought when I bought it.”
Emma understood.
“Someone wants you to sell.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Jack hesitated.
“Several people.”
“Walter?”
Jack looked surprised.
“No.”
“At least not directly.”
Emma moved closer to the table.
“What has happened?”
“Fences cut.”
“Three horses gone.”
“Found one ten miles away.”
“Fire in a hay shed last month.”
Emma stared.
“You said nothing.”
“I didn't want to frighten you.”
“Do not do that.”
“What?”
“Protect me by hiding things.”
Jack lowered the rifle.
Emma continued.
“I spent six months writing to a man who told me what he thought I wanted to hear.”
“I will not build another life inside somebody else’s edited version of the truth.”
Jack absorbed that.
Then nodded.
“You’re right.”
“Again.”
She almost smiled.
“Get used to it.”
The next morning they inspected the north fence.
Fresh hoof prints followed the creek.
Two riders.
Maybe three.
One horse had a distinctive shoe.
Emma crouched.
“Front left toe worn unevenly.”
Jack looked.