The Rancher by Kelli Ann Morgan

a shawl, and escorted her around through the back doors of her small millinery business.
    Abby had never cared much for the fancier parts of town.   She’d always

    preferred to stay at the ranch, despite her mother’s objections, and on the rare occasions that she did come, she stuck to the church and the mercantile.
    Mrs. Hutchinson’s little shop wasnothing like what Abby had expected.  Had she not seen the outside, she wouldbelieve she was in a quaint Englishcottage.
    “Sophie, get some shortbread and punchfor the girl and I’ll require a spot of tea.”  Mrs. Hutchinson called to a small girl, ofno more than thirteen, sitting in the cornerchair, reading the latest   Harper’s Bazar fashion magazine.   “And please get mycherish box from the dresser and bring itto me.”
    “Yes, mum.” The young girl stood andrushed behind a curtain, laying the

    magazine open on the floor.
    Abby realized the kind, eccentric, old woman wanted to help her get ready for her impromptu wedding.
    Mrs. Hutchinson set her black umbrella
    in the corner.
    “Tell me, dear, why on earth would a pretty young thing like you want to throw yourself into the arms of just any young man?   We always thought you would marry that young, good-looking Carson boy.   Jeremiah, I believe is his name.  Why not just marry him?”  She removed her shawl and gently laid it across the top of the charming woven couch.
    Abby had always considered herself to be plain and was surprised at Mrs. Hutchinson’s compliment.  Jeremiah had, on occasion, told her she was pretty in her

    own way, but she had known she would never be as pretty as   he   was.
    She pulled herself from her thoughts and realized Mrs. Hutchinson awaited a
    reply.  None came. How could she tell the woman that she had practically thrown herself at Jeremiah’s mercy the day before and he had rejected her, laughed at her impulsiveness, and had ridiculed her in front of the town.
    “You weren’t there, were you?”
    “Where, dear?” Mrs. Hutchinson eyed her with interest.
    “At the church...” Abby couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Never mind. It’s not important.”
    Jeremiah didn’t care about her.   He never had.  Abby understood that, but had been willing to overlook that for her

    home.  When she’d told him about her bet with her father, his lip had turned up into a scowl and he’d told her that living in society for a time would help her to become the kind of lady he wanted for a wife.   No wife of mine is going to be out working on a ranch with the men.  It just isn’t right,   he’d said.
    Abby replaced the unpleasant memory with the look on Cole’s face as he stood there, a perfect stranger, offering her his hand.  Her lips unwittingly curved into a smile.
    “Please excuse me, Mrs. Hutchinson,” Abby said, realizing that the woman was expectant of further explanation, “was there something you needed from me?”
    The elder woman smiled.
    “I saw the looks on those women’s

    faces when I passed them. Most of them must believe I am tainted in some way to have acted so rashly.  Why are   you   trying to help? You hardly know me.”
    Motioning for Abby to sit in front of an intricately carved dressing table, Mrs. Hutchinson removed her gloves and picked up a beautiful ivory handled brush.  She began to stroke Abby’s tangled curls with gentle ease.
    “Because dear, I recognize the makings of a good match when I see one.  Although, I must warn you that marriage isn’t always easy.   Oh, it can be wonderful to the right man of course, but just the same, there are adjustments that must be made...compromises.”
    Abby was silent.
    “How long have you known that young

    man?”
    “Not long.”  Surely the older woman had heard all the gossip.  She had to have known they’d only just met.
    “You are a very lucky girl to be marrying into the Redbourne family, you know?”