“Oh no, that will never do,” Ginny’s mother exclaimed. “You being the ranch owner’s wife and all.” To her daughter, she said, “Say ‘hello, Mrs. McKnight.’”

“Hello, Mrs. Knight.”

Before her mother could correct her, Emily laughed at the irony. As a young girl, she’d often dreamed of marrying a knight in shining armor. It appeared she’d done just that, if only in name. “Mrs. Knight it is.”

As much as she wanted to get to know Ginny better, she knew she had to hurry. Chase was waiting for her. “Sorry, but I’m on the way to my riding lesson. Do you ride, Ginny?”

Her mother stopped dusting. “Oh, she can’t ride.”

Something in Peggy Sue’s voice forbade further discussion. With a puzzled glance at the child, Emily took the hint and left.

Outside, she paused on the wraparound porch to check her divided skirt before heading to the stables. Despite Cookie’s assurances, she felt a wave of insecurity. Her poor mother would turn over in her grave at the thought of her daughter in such masculine attire.

In Boston, a man or woman of breeding and means was expected to dress in a certain way. No such class distinction seemed to exist in Texas. Here, clothes were apparently chosen for comfort, durability, and practicality. Chase favored the same type of dark canvas trousers, plaid shirts, and vests as his ranch hands did.

Emily sighed. Texas and its way would take some getting used to.

Swallowing her apprehension, she took a deep breath and started down the steps. She wore her sturdiest high-button shoes, but the moment she stepped off the porch and into the glaring early-morning sun, it wasn’t her footwear that earned her gratitude but rather the wide-brimmed Stetson hat Cookie had loaned her.

Nearing her destination, she stifled a yawn. It had still been dark when Chase had tiptoed past the foot of her bed and left the room that morning. She couldn’t imagine why he’d been up so early, but maybe he’d had as much trouble sleeping as she did.

Rusty greeted her with a smile, bringing her out of her reverie. “‘Morning, ma’am,” he said politely.

“Good morning, Rusty,” she replied, her curiosity peaked by the horse and buggy parked in front. Surely, it was too early for visitors. “Have you seen…Mr. McKnight?”

For answer, Rusty slanted his head to the side, indicating the barn-like stables. Thanking him, she stepped through the double doors and immediately heard a woman’s voice.

Curious, she crept quietly along the straw-covered dirt floor, past the tack room and numerous box stalls.

One by one, horses peered over stall doors to stare at her. The sweet waft of fresh hay reached her nose, all but wiping out the smell of horseflesh and dung.

Emily was close enough now to recognize the visitor as Cassie Decker, the woman Chase was supposed to have wed.

The woman looked as if she were crying. His arm around her, Chase handed her a handkerchief. “How do you think I felt when I walked in and found you married to someone else?” the woman said.