Caitlin shot her a glance. “It’s not easy living with the McCord men, I know.”

“Sloan wasn’t at all what you led me to believe.” Her tone was slightly accusing.

“If you mean you find him hard and intimidating, I won’t dispute you.”

“You might have warned me.”

“Perhaps I hedged a bit, but it was for a good cause. If I’d told you the bald truth about him, you might never have agreed to marry him.”

Heather bit back a retort, unable to condemn her friend for meddling. Caitlin cared deeply for them both, and thought her prevarications justified.

“You should at least have told me he couldn’t afford to pay my debts. You made it sound as if his ranch was quite prosperous.”

“It was, until recently. For twenty years the Bar M has been the biggest outfit around here. But beef prices have fallen hard the last couple of years. And it’s been a brutal winter. Like a lot of the cattlemen, Sloan has already lost a quarter of his herds or more—and the snows aren’t over yet.”

And she had only compounded his troubles by driving him further into debt, Heather reflected with remorse. She sighed. “I know you meant well, Caitlin, but I expect our marriage might have been a mistake.”

“You’re just tired, dearest. Things will look better in the morning, after you get a good night’s sleep. Once you settle in, you’ll like it here, I’m sure of it. It’s different from St. Louis—wilder and harder—but this land gets in your blood.” From across the kitchen, Caitlin gave her a penetrating glance. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? A fresh start?”

Heather nodded. The loss of her father had been a huge blow, while the responsibility of repaying his debts and keeping her school afloat and avoiding Evan Randolf’s maneuvering had proved a heavy burden. She had hoped to ease her grief by beginning a new life… This was just not quite the life she’d expected.

“I’m not certain I’m cut out to be a rancher’s wife,” Heather replied unhappily. “Sloan doesn’t think so, at any rate.”

“You’ll learn, and soon, I have no doubt. Besides, your ranching skills aren’t what really matters to him. This spread is a lot of things to Sloan—mother, mistress, duty—but his daughter means more. If you can help Janna, he won’t care if you don’t know a cow from a steer.”

Heather’s chin rose. “Well, I mean to earn my keep—and to repay him if I can.” She knew she was overly proud, but it was mortifying to be so indebted to him. Owing Sloan left her too vulnerable. “I don’t like being so obligated to anyone. I’ve never been inclined to take charity.”