An original Western romance inspired by the title, featuring Edith Mayburn, a Wyoming rancher, a hidden family secret, and a love neither expected.
The autumn wind swept across the Wyoming plains, carrying the scent of dry grass, distant rain, and the cold that would soon settle over the mountains. Edith Mayburn stood beside the stagecoach with a battered suitcase in one hand and a small wooden recipe box pressed against her chest. Before her stretched Grady Ranch, a vast property surrounded by weathered fences, grazing cattle, and hills that seemed to disappear into the gray horizon.
She had imagined this moment a hundred times during the long journey west.
In some versions, the rancher would greet her kindly. In others, he would look disappointed but agree to honor their arrangement. In her darkest imaginings, he would take one look at her and send her back to the station without allowing her to cross the threshold.
The last possibility seemed increasingly likely.
The man waiting beside the porch was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a dark coat. His hat shadowed his eyes, and his expression revealed nothing. He looked less like a bridegroom than a man who had come outside to inspect a broken fence.
Edith swallowed.
"Mr. Grady?"
"Coulter Grady."
His voice was deep and restrained.
She nodded quickly. "I'm Edith Mayburn. Your letter said I should arrive before the first snow."
"I received word."
He glanced at her suitcase, then at the stagecoach disappearing down the road.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Edith could feel the old familiar humiliation rising in her throat. She had been preparing herself for rejection since the day the marriage advertisement appeared in the newspaper. She had known that a woman of her size, with her plain dresses and unremarkable face, was not what men imagined when they advertised for a wife.