“Good Christian women in the community attract other women, which eventually leads to schools, community events, charities, and all the other things women like to participate in.”

“Reckon so, but that doesn’t mean I need to rush in to getting hitched.”

Steele situated his hat, readying to leave. “If you marry Miss Nilsson today and take her home as your wife, then I’ll give you what you need for buying cattle.”

Wyatt felt as though he’d been kicked in the gut by a wild horse and that his prize was galloping away even as he chased it. He wanted to plead with Steele to reconsider the ultimatum, but the hard set to the man’s mouth told him he wouldn’t be swayed, that for some crazy reason, he’d already made up his mind.

Why him? What did Steele think Wyatt had to offer a wife?

“Mull it over.”

“I might.” He’d already thought all he was going to on it, but Wyatt bit back his response.

Steele tipped the brim of his hat, then started back to the stagecoach and the luggage the driver was in the process of unloading.

“When you’re ready for the wedding,” Steele said over his shoulder, “I’ll be at the Hotel Windsor taking a meal.”

Wyatt nodded, then spun on his boots and headed toward Judd, who was still waiting near the livery. Frustration thrummed through Wyatt’s body and echoed in each thud of his footsteps against the hard earth.

How could he walk away from the opportunity to buy a herd of cattle and finally make something worthwhile of his life? And yet, how could he possibly marry a complete stranger?

Chapter 4

No luck. Again.

Greta stepped out of the dry goods store and closed the door behind her. The evening sky had turned a shade bluer over the past hour of job hunting. Nighttime would soon be upon her, and she still had no work, no place to live, and no money.

She reached up and twisted a loose strand of hair. She’d come to the edge of town. There were no more businesses to visit—at least none for a woman like her.

The lively music pouring out of the closest tavern taunted her every bit as much as some of the men had. “There’s plenty of work to be had for a woman as purty as you.” The leering grin and ugly words from the owner of the dry goods store had followed her outside and still rang in her mind.

She hadn’t stayed to ask the man what kind of work he was referring to. She hadn’t needed to.

Down the street near the livery, the stagecoach sat empty, the teams of horses unhitched, the luggage gone, and the driver nowhere to be seen. Or any of the other passengers, including Mr. Steele.