Chase sincerely doubted that, but now was no time to argue.

Judge Gray reached into his vest pocket for his watch and flipped the case open with his thumb. As round as he was tall, the judge had a long, white beard and white hair. Faded gray eyes peered from behind tortoiseshell spectacles.

“She better come soon. I’ve got another wedding in fifteen minutes.”

Chase balled his hands at his sides. He longed to shrug off the frock coat and boiled shirt. As a cattle rancher, he wasn’t used to such formal attire. Why weddings required such a getup was one of the mysteries of life.

Discomfort turning to irritation, he glared at his uncle. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.” There had to be another way.

Uncle Baxter leaned forward and snubbed his cigar in the copper ashtray on the judge’s desk. “You know what your father’s will said. The first son to marry gets the ranch. Do you want your brother claiming what’s yours?”

“Stepbrother,” Chase gritted out through wooden lips.

The mere thought of losing the ranch was like a knife to his heart. It wasn’t just a spread; it was a family legacy. The Rocking M Ranch had been founded by his Scottish grandparents. It was Grandpapa McKnight who had taught Chase everything he knew about cattle and ranching. By the age of twelve, Chase could ride, rope, and shoot as well or better than any man.

The judge checked his watch again. Chase’s uncle’s gaze sharpened, and his mustache twitched, but he said nothing.

Chase paced the floor and punched his fist into his left palm. When his uncle had first approached him with the idea of marrying the widow, it had sounded like the perfect plan. It wasn’t easy being a rancher’s wife, and few women could handle the demands. Cassie Decker had grown up around cattle. That alone would make her an asset.

Had things gone according to plan, not only would the marriage have saved the ranch and Chase’s family legacy, but it would have helped a woman and her small children. Now, the plan seemed bound for failure.

A clamor made Chase stop pacing and turn. “Why’d you bring that?” he asked, tossing a nod at his uncle’s shotgun on the floor. “I said no violence.”

“Think of this as insurance.” His uncle reached for the shotgun and tapped the floor with the gunstock. “If your stepbrother gets wind that you’re here, there could be trouble. I don’t aim on letting anything go wrong.”

Chase pinched the bridge of his nose. Something had already gone wrong. The bride-to-be had apparently suffered a case of cold feet. “Maybe I can get a bank loan.” He resented having to pay his stepbrother to save the ranch. But if his bride didn’t show, he might not have a choice.

His uncle discounted this idea with a shake of his head. “No bank is gonna give you a loan, and you know it. Not with the economy the way it is.”