His Mail Order Bride Was the Prettiest Woman He Ever Laid His Eyes On
Chapter 3
Eleanor did not scream.
She dressed quickly.
Then she took the pistol Thomas had given her.
She walked downstairs.
Thomas was already awake.
He stood beside the kitchen window.
“You saw them.”
“Yes.”
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
Thomas looked at her.
“I recognize one.”
“The man from the inn.”
“Yes.”
“What does he want?”
Thomas was silent.
Eleanor placed the pistol on the table.
“You promised me honesty.”
Thomas stared at the weapon.
Then at her.
“The ranch isn’t entirely mine.”
“What does that mean?”
“My father borrowed money.”
“When?”
“Before he died.”
“From whom?”
“Silas Crowe.”
Eleanor knew the name.
Everyone in the county did.
Crowe owned the general store, several warehouses, two mills, and more land than any single man should have been able to acquire.
“How much?”
Thomas looked toward the pasture.
“Enough.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Three thousand pounds.”
Eleanor went still.
“And the ranch?”
“Was collateral.”
“Was?”
Thomas nodded.
“I paid most of it.”
“Most?”
“There is one final payment due in six weeks.”
“How much?”
Thomas said nothing.
Eleanor understood.
“Three thousand pounds?”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Eight hundred.”
“That is still a great deal.”
“I know.”
She sat down.
“Then why did you agree to marry me?”
Thomas frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“You needed money.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Thomas hesitated.
“My father left me something else.”
“What?”
“A condition.”
Eleanor waited.
“If I marry before the debt is due, the estate passes to me without dispute.”
She stared.
“You needed a wife to keep your ranch.”
Thomas looked ashamed.
“I wrote to you because I wanted a wife.”
“But the ranch made the decision easier.”
“Yes.”
Eleanor stood.
“You should have told me.”
“I should have.”
She picked up the pistol.
Thomas stepped forward.
“Eleanor.”
She stopped.
“I am not angry because you needed help.”
She looked at him.
“I am angry because you asked me to trust you while hiding the reason you needed me.”
Thomas had no answer.
Outside, the riders turned their horses.
One of them shouted.
“Six weeks, Reed!”
Then they rode away.
Eleanor watched them disappear.
“How long have you known?”
Thomas looked at her.
“Three months.”
She closed her eyes.
“You wrote me thirty-seven letters.”
“Yes.”
“And never once mentioned the debt.”
“No.”
She picked up her valise.
Thomas stared.
“What are you doing?”
“I haven’t decided whether I am your wife yet.”
