“I’ll do my share. More,” he assured the man.
The General nodded. “I know you will. I mean to treat you like every other man I sent here. Same responsibilities, same privileges.”
Emerson stilled. What did he mean? He’d sent the other men to marry his daughters, and he planned to give them each a share in the ranch when he passed away.
The General nodded again. “You know what I’m saying. When I die, you’ll get a share of the ranch, too, although I hope you’re not in a big hurry to see that day.”
“No, sir.” Just knowing someday he’d have land—a place to call his own—for the rest of his life would make everything he’d gone through worthwhile. He’d always planned to save up to buy a spread eventually, and he’d known it would take him a decade or two to reach that goal. Ever since the explosion had sent him stateside with a limp that wasn’t going away, he’d given up all thought of it. Owning a ranch had seemed out of reach forever.
Now it was within his grasp again.
“That’s the payoff,” the General said. “But there’s a price.”
“Price, sir?” Of course there was a price. There was always a price. He waited, wondering if his dreams were about to dissolve again.
“That’s right. Marriage. You don’t get to waltz in here without marrying one of my daughters. You of all people should know that.”
Emerson blinked. “You don’t have any more daughters, sir.”
The General chuckled. “Maybe not official daughters, but Cass wants Wyoming to stay at Two Willows long term. An unwed woman is asking for trouble, by my way of thinking. Besides, I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
“That’s pretty old-fashioned thinking, sir.” But Emerson’s gaze moved toward the kitchen, as if he could see straight through the wall to where Wyoming was helping Cass. He’d marry her in a heartbeat. Did the General know that?
“I’m pretty old-fashioned. I want my daughters happy, and in Cass’s case, that means keeping her friend close by, which means Wye needs to marry someone determined to stay right here, which means you need to marry her. Got it?”
Emerson stared at him. Twist his arm. “Yes, sir.” He was more than willing to take on that task. Maybe some people would say he didn’t know Wye well enough to stake his future on marrying her, but he knew all he needed to know. Wye was—amazing. A staunch friend to Cass and her sisters. Someone he thought loved Two Willows as much as he already loved it here. If Wyoming decided to marry someone, she’d be in it for the long-haul, and one thing Emerson knew about himself—he didn’t want to be with anyone who’d leave.
Might as well be alone as choose that.
“And don’t dawdle,” the General was saying when he focused on him again. “I heard Wyoming talking to someone on her phone about a job. Didn’t sound local.”
“A job?” One that wasn’t local? Hell, that didn’t sound good. “I’ll get on it right away, sir.”
“Glad to hear it.” The General looked him over. “Thought I might meet more resistance.”
“Hell, no.” Emerson swallowed. “I mean—”
“I think I know where you stand, Sergeant,” the General said. “Now get me those appetizers.”
Wyoming finished whipping an enormous pot of mashed potatoes, the third pot of potatoes she’d prepared so far. Her arm ached, but she was glad to hide in here out of the crowd and hubbub of the living room. Not that it was much quieter here. All the Reed women’s weddings had been crowded, but with the General home, even more people than usual showed up. All of their friends and neighbors wanted a chance to commend him on his service to their country.
Huge plates of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and other holiday favorites lined the counters and large table, which bore bullet grooves from an earlier confrontation with drug dealers on the ranch. A testament to all they’d been through and overcome. People would soon file in to serve themselves buffet-style. She was having a hard time maneuvering about the room. Lord knew her Civil War–era dress barely fit into the house, let alone this kitchen.
Wyoming didn’t have much opportunity to dress up like this, but Alice loved costumes. She ran a business designing and creating them for plays and movies, among other things, and she’d been trying to secure a contract to make the costumes for a Civil War–era production starring acclaimed actress Kate O’Dell when she’d met Jack. When the contract didn’t pan out, she’d decided to throw a hoopskirt wedding. The dresses were fun to wear but not suited at all for a crush like this.
As Wyoming moved carefully around the kitchen, trying not to knock something over with her huge bell-shaped skirt, she wondered if she’d ever be the one getting married. Despite what she’d said to Cass earlier, she couldn’t help wanting a relationship that would last. Still, every time she thought about Will and how wrong she’d been about him, her stomach sank. During the last few weeks, she’d run through all her interactions with him endlessly, cringing at memories of the times his veneer of cheerfulness had slipped and he’d shown his true colors. The times he’d grown impatient with his work. The times he’d scowled when Emerson came near.
He’d fooled her into thinking he was a fun, lighthearted, regular guy. Possibly someone she could make a life with when they got to know each other. His good nature had been a carefully crafted facade, however. One that had fooled everyone.
That did little to make her feel better. She’d always thought of herself as the last person to be taken in by a quick smile and a false intimacy. She had long relied on her intuition to help her navigate the world since she didn’t have anyone else to guide her. Will had done more than hurt her pride—
He’d undermined her confidence in her own judgment.
Even worse, she couldn’t seem to find a job, and there was a limit to the charity Wye was willing to accept. Without telling Cass, she’d begun to answer ads for positions in Billings and Bozeman. She kept telling herself it wouldn’t be the end of the world to move to the city away from all her friends.
So why did it feel like it?
Wyoming squashed her dark thoughts. There was no time to feel sorry for herself. She had a wedding to help with. A job to find. A life to get on with.
So, she didn’t have a mother who communicated from beyond the grave like Cass’s mom seemed to, or a father who would send her a husband, like the General did—handsome, wonderful husbands—to each of his daughters. She had her independence. Her self-respect.
Wasn’t that more important?
Her phone buzzed. She wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t fished it out of her ridiculous hoopskirt and placed it on the counter a few minutes earlier. Her brother’s name flashed onto the screen. Wye wiped off her hands and took the call, plugging her other ear so she could hear above the noise as Cass directed the setup of the dinner buffet.
“Ward? What’s up?”
“You haven’t heard from Mindy, have you?”
“Mindy? No.” She moved across the room to the back door to try to get away from the noise, but it wasn’t much better.
“She’s missing. She said she was going to the grocery store this morning, but she never came back.”