The Rancher’s Ride of Vengeance (Preview)

Chapter One

Hank pushed his horse as fast as it would go. The coyotes had come out of nowhere and he had to rein in the chaos that ensued.

“Ryan!” he yelled. “Help Oliver.”

The young man looked panicked but veered off to his right. Usually in such situations, Hank wouldn’t expect his horse wranglers to help, but things were quickly getting out of control. He needed all his men to do their part.

Behind him, even John had mounted a horse. It had been years since Hank had seen the big man riding, but he could always count on him.

Hank steered his horse to the left. Cattle were everywhere and they had to act fast. With the coyotes attacking, and the gunshots fired to scare them off, the cattle were in a frenzy.

Max kept close to Hank, the two of them working together to round up the cattle. They were all over the place and were quickly spreading out. If they lost too many, the drive would be unsuccessful. They would have to go home, and Hank didn’t even want to think about the amount of money he would lose in the process.

He moved in, pushing the cattle to where he wanted them to be. His eyes glanced over the open field and the forest beyond it. The cattle were still scattering, but his men were slowly rounding them up. It was on days like this that Hank was happy he always brought along more men than necessary.

Had all of them not acted immediately, there could have been a stampede—and those often had dire consequences.

“Max,” Hank called.

The young man looked at him, and Hank pointed to his left. Some of the cattle were slipping through the open space. Max steered his horse over to block their way.

That was how it went for the next couple of hours, stopping cattle from straying too far while trying to round them up. It took most of the day, and by the time the herd was safe and back where it belonged, Hank and his men were exhausted.

They were supposed to spend the day traveling, but after what had happened, Hank was simply relieved that they had managed to rescue the drive. A couple of cattle had escaped, but Hank doubted that the number was more than what could be counted on two hands. Considering what the outcome could have been, that was a victory.

Needless to say, they didn’t even try to go anywhere. The sun had already started to set and the best thing they could do was to use the night to rest. The cattle had mostly settled, but it was wise to allow them some time to rest, too. Losing one day wasn’t a huge problem in the grand scheme of things. What worried Hank were the coyotes.

They had scared them off, and killed a couple of them, but there was still a possibility that the creatures could return after nightfall if they were desperate enough.

“Listen up,” Hank said once all the men were situated around the fire. The conversation died down and all eyes focused on him. “We did well today, but we still have to be careful.”

The men nodded.

“I don’t think they’ll return,” Oliver offered. “But it’s not unheard of.”

The men looked tired, but they were going to have to put in some extra effort.

“We have two choices, and since one isn’t really plausible, we’re just going to have to keep watch and be vigilant,” Hank said.

“What’s the other option?” Ryan asked.

“Travel throughout the night,” Hank replied with a shrug. “Nobody’s getting any sleep that way.”

Max shook his head. “That’s a horrible idea.”

“Exactly,” Hank pointed out. “So, instead, we’re going to forgo our normal nightly routine.”

He took a sip of water from his canteen, wishing he could tell his men that they could all go to sleep after dinner.

“There are fifteen of us,” he stated, “Five sleep at a time, for two or three hours. The rest of us keep watch.”

They were all on edge as they ate and then fell into their shifts for the night. Sleep for two hours, patrol for four. It was exhausting, but out in the wild, things often were.

By the time morning came, Hank was ready to move on. There was no guarantee that they wouldn’t encounter another pack of coyotes, but they would all feel much better once they were far away from where the attack happened.

***

Hank stopped his horse and surveyed the surrounding area. They had traveled far today, and it was time to stop for the night. The sun was already setting, and he had pushed his men and the cattle hard. They all needed a rest and a meal.

“We’ll sleep here tonight,” he called, notifying the men closest to him, who in turn notified the rest.

Slowly, they all came to a stop.

Hank dismounted and walked the stallion over to Ryan, the newest member of his cattle-driving team. He was still young, only eighteen, but had a good head on his shoulders. He had no experience, though, so Hank was teaching him on the job.

For now, Ryan was working as their horse wrangler, but Hank could tell the young man was eager to grow into better positions.

Hank handed the reins to Ryan and made his way over to the chuckwagon. They were almost completely out of food, but that was all right. It was their last night before the drive was over and he could finally return home.

The idea brought a smile to his face. He couldn’t wait to hold Mary in his arms again. It had been too long.

Thinking of his wife, waiting for him back on the ranch, was what got him through the longest days and nights. He hated being away from her, but life carried on and work needed to be done.

“I’ll get started on dinner,” John said as the door of the chuckwagon flew open in front of Hank.

The sudden movement pulled him out of his reverie, and he focused his eyes on the big man peering at him from inside the wagon.

“Yeah, that’ll be great,” Hank muttered, trying to pull himself together. He was tired. “We still have coffee, right?”

John nodded, wiping his hands on his round belly. “Made sure to bring more than we needed. Got some rum and whiskey, too.”

“Of course you do,” Hank said with a chuckle.

He’d known John for most of his life. He’d worked for Hank’s father before Hank took over the ranch. The man was a great cook and had enough knowledge about practical medicine to treat any of them were they to get into a sticky situation.

He was also a borderline alcoholic. It never got in the way of his work, so Hank refrained from making it a problem. Life was full of problems, and he preferred not to create more when it wasn’t necessary.

“Keeps you healthy,” John stated with a shrug. “Haven’t been sick a day in my life.”

“Whatever works for you.” Hank shook his head but laughed. “I’ll stick to coffee while we’re out on a drive, though.”

He was in charge and had to ensure his men stayed safe and the cattle were delivered on time. He was a businessman, after all, and had a reputation to uphold.

John took a step forward, preparing to get out of the wagon, and Hank stepped out of his way, giving the big man some space. Hank watched him for a moment before turning his attention back to the rest of his crew.

They were gathering some of the stray cattle, herding them into a closer circle. His men, just like him, had done this hundreds of times and knew what needed to happen without instructions.

That was why he made a point of bringing the same men on his cattle drives. He could rely on them, and that went a long way when you were out in the wild with the threat of bandits, Natives, and gangs around every corner.

Hank’s hand automatically drifted to the pistol on his hip. He never went anywhere without it. He’d learned the hard way to always be prepared. On his back, secured with a strap that wrapped over his chest and shoulder, hung his rifle.

Hank was a good shot—no, he was a great shot, and so were a couple of the men on his team. Their pistols and rifles weren’t just for protection. Meat was a staple food when you traveled long distances, and if they couldn’t hunt, they would have starved.

Walking over to Ryan, Hank removed his gunny sack from his horse and joined Oliver and Max, who were already starting a fire. They all had their roles and did what was expected of them. Hank had a big crew, fifteen men including himself, but he wouldn’t be able to do it without them.

His ranch made enough for him to pay them all with ease and he would rather have a few extra men than not enough. Moving two thousand head of cattle over six hundred miles was no joke, and he had to ensure everything went according to plan.

“I can’t believe this is our last night,” Oliver stated when Hank sat down on a nearby rock.

“Well, not really,” Hank pointed out.

“Technically, no, but once we load the cattle on the train, things tend to go much faster,” Oliver replied. “Soon we’ll be back home, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to do the next one.”

Hank’s head snapped to where Oliver sat. The man’s long hair blew in the breeze, and he had a huge smile on his face.

“What do you mean?” Hank asked. Oliver was one of his best.

“Anna is with child. We’re going to move north to be closer to her family.”

Hank’s stomach contracted at the words, and he swallowed hard. “Wow! That’s great,” he said, sounding a little too enthusiastic.

Oliver raised a brow, confusion clear on his face.

“We’ll miss you, that’s all,” Hank explained, answering Oliver’s unasked question.

“Honestly, I’ll miss this, too.” Oliver looked out over the surrounding field. “Some of my best memories are out here with you guys.”

It was true that Hank would miss Oliver, but that wasn’t the reason for his surprise. Oliver deserved to be happy, and if moving was what he wanted, Hank would respect it.

Hearing that Anna was with child was what had caused a momentary lapse of control. Jealousy was a horrible thing.

Hank shook the thoughts from his mind and focused on the fire taking shape a few feet away. “I’m happy for you and Anna,” he said, meaning it. “You’ll make a great father.”

Relief washed over Oliver, the tension and confusion from a moment ago evaporating.

Slowly, the men gathered around the fire as John prepared their meal. It was Hank’s favorite time of the day. Traveling and herding the cattle were both anxiety-inducing and tedious tasks, and the nights out here under the dark night sky were long and lonely.

But sitting here with his crew, most of whom he considered friends, was nice. Talking, laughing, sharing stories and a meal always helped to lift his spirits enough to take on the next day.

***

A loud bang tore Hank out of his sleep. He sat upright, his hand automatically reaching for his pistol. He slept with his holster on at all times while out on a cattle drive. The West was a dangerous place, especially while camping out in the open.

There was another shot, followed by screaming. Hank pushed himself to his feet, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness that surrounded him. The fire was still going but hardly provided enough light to see farther than a few feet.

Next to him, Oliver tripped over his own feet as he scrambled out of his bedroll. “What was that?” he asked, voice gruff and confused.

“Gunshots,” Hank replied, turning toward the man on his other side. “Max, grab us some torches.”

Max jumped into action, snatching the handles of the fire torches they always kept nearby and lighting them. He handed one to Hank, one to Oliver, and kept the last one for himself. On the other side of the fire, the rest of the men did the same.

“Get down!” somebody yelled.

Hank recognized the voice. Malcolm, one of his younger recruits. He’d been on watch with Callum when Hank went to sleep.

Another gunshot rang out and Hank saw the sparks from between the trees in the distance. The sound caused some of the cattle to react nervously and a couple ran off. They had to get control of the situation or it could quickly turn into a disaster.

“Spread out, keep your wits about you, and don’t get killed,” Hank instructed. “Malcolm and Callum are out there and we need to avoid a stampede.”

This wasn’t the first time they had been attacked during a cattle drive. They had gotten into a pretty scary gunfight a couple of years ago, and Hank had gotten hurt. He hoped this time would play out differently.

There was no time for contemplation, though. His men needed him, and as their leader, it was his responsibility to do everything he could to keep them safe.

“Oliver, Max, you’re with me.”

The two men flanked him, torches in one hand and pistols in the other as they marched in the direction of the commotion. From the corner of his eye, Hank saw John step out of the chuckwagon where he slept at night.

The big man was quite a sight when he was angry. He had a shot gun in his hand and a belt filled with bullets hung around his waist. It was a good thing the cook was on their side.

The rest of the men spread out in pairs. They knew better than to wander off on their own. They needed to surround whoever was attacking them, and for that they needed to spread out, but they also needed to stick together. One thing Hank insisted on was that no man was ever alone out here. Whatever they did, they did it in pairs or groups.

Hank didn’t like the torches they were carrying. The glow would alert whoever was attacking them of their approach, but they needed them. They couldn’t go into a fight blind.

“Be ready,” Hank warned as they approached the tree line.

“Always,” Oliver whispered, and Max lifted his pistol in response.

The two men were still flanking Hank but they spread out just a little, leaving a few feet between them. It was safer like that.

They were heading toward the spot where Hank had seen the spark when somebody fired off their gun. He had his pistol ready, his finger hovering over the trigger.

He’d killed men before, but it wasn’t something he was eager to do again. Things like that haunted you the rest of your life whether they were criminals or not. He would do what was necessary regardless. He would protect his men with his life.

A soft moan caught Hank’s attention and he turned on his heels. It sounded pained. Marching toward it, he pushed the leaves and branches out of his way, being careful not to set the forest alight. Somebody was hiding behind a thick shrub. Hank ran over to Malcolm.

“Are you all right?” he asked, crouching down beside the young man.

“I think so,” Malcolm replied, clutching his arm. Blood pooled between his fingers.

“What happened?”

Malcolm sucked in a breath. “Shot.”

Hank felt anger fill his body. Whoever did this was going to pay. “Stay here, and don’t do anything brave. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can,” he instructed.

Malcolm nodded. “I’m not the brave type.”

The man needed a confidence boost, but Hank didn’t have time for that now.

Pushing himself to his feet, he locked eyes with Oliver, who looked almost as angry as him, and then headed into battle. They found the bandits trying to round up some cattle that had been separated from the herd.

Hank didn’t hesitate. He was tired, frustrated, and angry, and all he wanted was to go home. These men had chosen the wrong time to try his patience.

He aimed his gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit its mark and the man went down with a pained cry.

Hank might not enjoy killing people, but he had no problem with inflicting a little deserved pain. A bullet in the thigh hurt like hell but generally didn’t cause too much long-term damage. Hank knew this from personal experience.

The gunshot and the man’s cries drew the attention of the rest of the bandits. With a quick count, Hank established that there were five of them. The closest one raised his rifle but was taken down by the butt of John’s rifle. The bandit crumpled to the ground.

“Keep an eye on him,” Hank instructed, pointing his torch at the man he had shot while marching forward, his pistol raised and ready. “You’re outnumbered!” he yelled to the remaining bandits. “Give yourselves up and live.”

The men looked hesitant, but as the rest of Hank’s crew came into view, the bandits raised their hands and fell to their knees. It was obvious there was no way they’d be escaping unharmed if they tried.

Hank and his men escorted the bandits back to their campsite. Once there, they tied them up, making sure their wrists and feet were bound. The man who had been knocked unconscious had woken and John begrudgingly treated the gunshot wound on the other bandit’s leg.

With the outlaws caught, Hank and a couple of his men rounded up the cattle that had strayed and then returned to the camp. It was after one in the morning by the time they all settled down again and Hank knew he would get little to no sleep. Max had no such problem and was snoring contently a few feet away.

Oliver had offered to keep watch in Malcolm’s place and John was keeping him company. Malcolm was sleeping off his injury in the back of the chuck wagon. John had removed the bullet and stitched him up. Malcolm’s arm was going to be all right, but Hank had a feeling that the young man wouldn’t be joining them on a cattle drive again.

The rest of his team were sleeping or at least trying to get some sleep. They had to be up early to finish the cattle drive, and they still had a long journey back home.

Chapter Two

It had been a long night. Hank had struggled to fall asleep after everything that had happened.

“Anything happen while I was out?” he asked when he awoke, stretching his arms above his head.

Oliver shook his head. “No,” and then added, “but almost.”

“What do you mean?”

“One of these bastards tried to make a run for it,” Oliver replied with a smile.

The other man sitting with him chuckled. “Kept me from getting any sleep.”

“Kept on falling over his own feet. Wasn’t even the one with a bullet in his thigh.”

“Sounds like a sight,” Hank agreed. “No problem catching him?”

Oliver shook his head. “Not even a little.”

Hank was grateful that Oliver and the other men on watch handled the situation.

Even on uneventful nights, sleep didn’t come easy when he was away from home. Before he married Mary, Hank hadn’t minded going on cattle drives. Now, however, it got worse every time he left her home alone.

He hated that he had to leave her, and he was always scared that something might happen while he wasn’t there. It had been almost two months since he left, and not knowing if his wife was all right was driving him crazy.

Hank ran his hand through his hair. He usually kept it short, but it had grown out enough to fall into his eyes, and now it was just one more thing to irritate him. With a sigh, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pushed himself to his feet, leaving his bedroll on the ground.

The drive was almost done, and by tomorrow he would be on his way home. Riding home would be much faster, and with the way he was missing Mary, he knew he was going to push himself and his horse as much as possible.

They had been lucky. They had made good time. Even with the couple incidents they’d had, everything had gone better than expected.

John was already awake, too. He had a fire going and was brewing a big pot of coffee. Next to it, in a cast iron pan, he was frying thinly sliced pieces of meat. They still had some bread and beans left too, so at least they could have a hardy breakfast. They were going to need their energy today.

When they were done eating, they gathered their belongings. Their bedrolls went into the chuckwagon, along with the pots, plates, and cups, and their gunny sacks were tied to their horses. The bandits were secured on the backs of their extra horses, and everybody was ready to go. Each of them had three horses, which they switched out daily. It was Ryan’s responsibility to care for the animals.

With all of them working together, it didn’t take long, and soon enough they were making their way toward Kansas. They were only a couple of hours away and arrived relatively early. It was still morning, but they still had to deliver the bandits to the sheriff’s office, and getting the cattle loaded into the stock cars took up the rest of the day. By the time they were done, the sun was setting.

The drive was complete, and they had only lost a handful of bulls along the way. It was a success and now Hank could go home.

Max and one of the other men were going to accompany the cattle to their destination. For that, Hank was paying them more. The other men were all joining Hank on a much shorter trip back to Houston.

They needed supplies and they were all exhausted and hungry, so instead of getting back on the road, they decided to stock up on supplies, eat a warm meal at the saloon, and spend the night at the inn.

The saloon was much like all the other saloons Hank had visited while on the road. He had eaten at a lot of them and had gotten drunk a few more times than he cared to admit. It had been good times, and even though he was a family man now, he still enjoyed a glass of whiskey occasionally.

Not so much at the saloon anymore, but at home with Mary. His wife didn’t like whiskey. She preferred wine, which in his opinion tasted far worse. Many times, after a long day’s work, Mary would pour them both a drink and they would sit on the porch, watching the sun set.

Sometimes they talked about what needed to be done on the ranch. Other times they laughed and joked about more personal things. Mary loved listening to his stories, and he enjoyed putting a smile on her face.

“Hank,” a voice said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry, what did you say?”

Oliver chuckled. “You gonna eat your food before it gets cold?”

Hank shook his head and took a bite of his steak. “Tired,” he told them after swallowing it down with some coffee.

“It’s been a long day,” John agreed.

The man looked slightly drunk, which meant he must have had a lot to drink. John was always drinking and hardly ever showed any effects.

Hank tried not to get carried away by his thoughts again and joined in the conversation. He had known most of the men for a long time and considered them friends, not workers.

“All right, that’s it for me,” Hank stated as he stood up. He’d finished his meal, had a good laugh, and needed some sleep. “I’m heading over to the inn.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Oliver agreed, getting up as well.

One by one the men got up, all apparently tired and wanting to get a good night’s rest.

“You all need to learn how to drink,” John stated with a frown. “We barely got started.”

“Next time,” Oliver told him.

“You always say that,” John pointed out as they started making their way through the saloon.

Hank had almost made it to the door when he heard a loud scuffle behind him, followed by some unhappy voices.

“Watch where you’re going!” somebody demanded.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going,” John retorted.

Hank let out a long breath before turning around. He’d witnessed his share of saloon brawls, and this was almost always how they started.

John was an intimidating guy with his big frame, beard, and steely eyes, but the man hovering in John’s face looked very scary himself. The man was tall, almost a foot taller than John, which wasn’t something a person saw all that often. He looked younger than John by at least ten years, and where John carried a lot of weight, this man was mostly muscle.

For a moment, Hank allowed himself to imagine what would happen if the two got into a fist fight. He wondered who would win. He didn’t allow that thought to linger too long or he was surely going to find out.

The man pushed John backwards, but John stood his ground, barely moving.

“No need for a fight,” Hank said, stepping forward. John was his senior, but sometimes he needed to step in and keep his men out of trouble.

“Should have told him that before he shoved me out of the way,” the man stated, glancing at Hank before turning his eyes back on John.

“Look, he’s a little drunk,” Hank explained. “Why don’t I buy you a drink and we call it even.”

The man chuckled. “I can buy my own drinks.”

A crowd had started to form around them.

“I bet you can take him, Charles,” somebody yelled.

Charles smiled, pulled back his arm, and flung his fist at John. The punch hit, catching John straight on the jaw. John wobbled slightly and stepped back to balance himself.

Hank had seen this happen before and was hoping he’d never have to witness it again. It was too late now.

“I’m going to kill you,” John roared, having regained his composure.

“John, don’t,” Hank yelled, but it fell on deaf ears.

Before he could even try to intervene, John launched himself at Charles. The two men went flying backwards, losing their footing and crashing into a nearby table. The men sitting at said table went sprawling back, their chairs falling back and flinging them onto the floor.

John landed on top on Charles, the wooden table breaking beneath their combined weight. Roars went up all around them. The barkeep started yelling, and the barmaids ran to safety. Some of the patrons escaped through the door, not wanting to get involved, while others pushed forward, wanting to see how it was going to play out.

All Hank wanted was a good night’s rest before they got back on the road, but clearly John had other ideas. Hank glanced over his shoulder, hoping to find the rest of his men there. He didn’t want them to get involved in the fight, but he was going to need their help to break it up.

Charles pushed John off of him and John hit the ground with a loud thud. For such a big man, who was more than a little drunk, John had quick reflexes. Without much of a struggle, he hoisted himself to his feet and kicked Charles in the gut. It was a hard kick and had the tall man gasping for air.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Hank said urgently as he rushed to where John was standing.

“Not so fast,” one of the men, who had been flung from his chair, roared as he threw a punch.

He had taken John, who had been glancing between Hank and Charles, by surprise and got him just below his ribs. John nearly doubled over and that was when all hell broke loose.

Hank’s men had clearly seen enough and before he could stop them, at least half of them jumped into the fight. If it had just been Charles and the guy who had thrown the punch, things would have been over quickly, but the other four men who had been thrown from their chairs decided to join in, too. As if that wasn’t enough, more men from the crowd got involved and soon enough all of Hank’s men were throwing punches.

It was a complete mess. Fists were flying, legs were kicking, and voices were yelling in anger and pain. Hank had to put a stop to it, but there was nothing he could do. He was still trying to come up with a plan when somebody stumbled into him, knocking him to the ground.

He didn’t want to get involved. He had promised Mary that he would stay out of trouble. It was a promise he had made happily since Hank didn’t particularly like getting into any troublesome situations.

He wasn’t given much of a choice, though, and soon enough he was pulled into the fight. Hank managed to maneuver his way through the crowd, only having to push off a couple of men and throwing the occasional punch. He had reached the bar counter and was about to grab one of his men to pull them away from the fight when the sound of a gunshot blasted into the night.

Everybody stopped fighting and turned toward the door. An eerie silence fell around them.

At the entrance stood a graying man, his gun raised and a scowl on his face. Flanking him stood two younger men. Both had their weapons raised and ready. The sheriff and his deputies had arrived, and Hank felt both relieved and worried.

Glancing through the space between the men, he saw more deputies outside. Nobody was getting away. The fight was over and all he could do now was wait and see how it played out.

Chapter Three

If it had just been John and Charles involved in the fight, Hank was sure both of them would have been locked up for the night. With so many men fighting, and most of them at least a little, if not a lot, drunk, finding out what had actually happened was near impossible for the sheriff and his men.

This was a blessing, since it meant all of them were let go with a warning. Hank had spoken to the sheriff on behalf of his men. He’d told the sheriff that Charles had started the fight but that he was sorry for his men’s involvement. He had also assured the sheriff that he and his men would be leaving town the next morning and with that assurance, the sheriff had let them go.

Fortunately, none of them had gotten hurt too badly. Hank had come off mostly unscathed since he had had no interest in being involved in the fight from the start. John and some of the others were hurt, but nothing too serious. They had all taken much worse beatings and would be fine.

They had all been pretty riled up, though, so getting them to the inn was a mission on its own. Once they were all in their rooms, they had passed out pretty quickly and Hank could finally go to bed. They were all grown men who could take care of themselves, but he and Oliver had stayed up until the last of them were sleeping.

Grown or not, some of them enjoyed getting into trouble a little more than they should.

Despite being exhausted, both mentally and physically, Hank had struggled to fall asleep. With everything that had happened, his mind was swirling with thoughts, and he had to focus on Mary to finally calm his nerves. He thought about their wedding day. It had been one of the best days of his life and was his most treasured memory.

“Please tell me you’re not getting cold feet,” Martha said with a frown as she watched him.

Hank spun around. “What? Why would you even say that?” he demanded as he glared at her. He loved his sister, but she was talking crazy.

“You’ve been pacing up and down for the last ten minutes. You’re going to walk a hole through the carpet.”

“I’m nervous,” Hank admitted, “but I don’t have cold feet.”

“What is it, then?” Martha asked, tilting her head to the side. “If you’re not reconsidering your decision, what has you so scared?”

“I’m not scared,” Hank stated. Men should never admit that they were scared, even if it was the truth. At least that was what his father had always said. 

Being around Mary had started to change his mindset a little, though. She always told him that men had just as much right to their feelings as woman. It was a wild thought, but deep down, he liked it.

Hank smiled to himself in the darkness of the room. Mary had taught him a lot over the years. She had made him into the man he was. Without her, he would still have been stuck in his old ways of thinking, but she had shown him just what a marriage should be.

Martha simply waited for him to carry on. Hank could tell she wasn’t going to let it go. 

“The ceremony was supposed to happen an hour ago,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “Why is it taking so long for her to get ready?”

“Oh,” Martha exhaled, her frown turning into a smile. “You’re worried that she changed her mind.”

“The guests must be thinking the same thing.” Hank started pacing again. He always knew Mary was too good for him.

Martha walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Her dress tore,” she stated. “She was embarrassed because she stepped on it and fell. She didn’t want anybody to know.”

It took a moment for Martha’s words to sink in. Mary hadn’t stood him up; she had a good reason for delaying the ceremony.

“She fell,” he stated, now worried for a completely different reason. “Is she all right?”

“Perfectly fine,” Martha assured him. “She said you would make fun of her and didn’t want me to tell you but clearly you had to know.”

Hank took a deep breath. “As long as she isn’t hurt, I can wait. The guests can, too.”

“That’s what I told her,” Martha assured him. “We had to sew her dress up and redo her hair. I’m sure her mother is almost done with it. Why don’t I go check?”

“Yes, please,” Hank agreed, “and let me know.”

Martha had returned ten minutes later to tell him that Mary was ready. He had managed to calm down by then and was back to his confident self by the time he had taken his place at the front of the aisle.

Seeing Mary walk into the decorated barn, her dress flowing around her and her eyes shining happily, was a vision ingrained in his memory. Mary was not just an amazing human being, but she was also stunningly beautiful.

“I thought you’d changed your mind,” Hank told her as they stepped outside. The ceremony was over, and the celebrations were in full swing.

“Never,” Mary replied, squeezing his hand. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have you.”

“You kept me waiting for more than an hour,” Hank stated with a smile as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “I was about ready to come look for you.”

“Sorry,” Mary said with a laugh. “I had a little accident.”

Hank chuckled at this.

“Oh no. Martha told you,” Mary exclaimed, her cheeks turning a bright red.

“She didn’t have much of a choice,” Hank admitted. “I was a nervous wreck. She had to tell me, or I was going to have a breakdown.”

Mary laughed as she wrapped her arms around me. “It’s all right. I would have told you myself anyway. I was just so embarrassed when it happened.”

Hank embraced his wife, joining in her laughter. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll make a great story to tell one day.”

Thinking about Mary always made him feel better. It had been a hell of a day, and he’d much rather forget the whole ordeal at the saloon. He had a lot to be grateful for, though, and it was with that thought that he fell asleep.

***

Hank woke the next morning with a pounding headache. The room was dark, and silence surrounded him. He still felt tired, but he was awake and there was no way he would fall asleep again. Stretching his limbs, Hank took a few deep breaths before sitting up.

He lit the lantern on his bedside table and poured some water from the pitcher into his glass. He hadn’t had any alcohol the night before but staying hydrated was always a good idea, especially when he would be traveling out in the open the whole day. He downed the water and got dressed before gathering his things and leaving his room.

Not all of his men would be as eager as him to get an early start, but they would survive. They were all fine, after all, and there was no need for their plans to change. They had all traveled with a hangover before and their bruises from the fight weren’t going to heal within a couple of hours.

Hank went from one room to the next, waking all of them. He left John for last. The big man woke easily and although his eyes were red and watery, he seemed perfectly content. Hank wasn’t sure how John did it, but the man never seemed to get a hangover.

“How you feeling?” Hank asked, raising a brow.

John pushed his blankets aside, stretched his limbs, and stood up. “Fit as a fiddle,” he replied. “Ready to take on the day. Hungry, though.”

Hank shook his head. “Everybody’s up. Get dressed. We’ll eat and then we’re leaving.”

Once they were all ready, they ate a quick breakfast at the inn and then they were on their way.

***

An hour into their journey, the sun peeked over the horizon. By midday, after having stopped to eat lunch and rest the horses, they split up into two groups. Hank was in a hurry and the oxen pulling the chuckwagon couldn’t keep up.

They always did it like that. Some of the men, those who didn’t mind being away from home longer, traveled with John, and those who were in a hurry, like Hank, traveled with him. It worked out great but, going forward, the men traveling with Hank would each have only two horses, one to ride and one to carry their bedroll and supplies. If all went well, they should be able to reach Houston in no more than two weeks.

Every time Hank went on a cattle drive, he hated it a little more. Maybe it was time for him to put his trust in John or Max to head the drives. Both of them knew what to do and he could trust them. It would be amazing not to have to go himself. He could stay at home and focus on Mary and running the ranch.

He was worried about handing over the reins, though. His men were good. They knew what they were doing. They could easily manage a cattle drive without him, but he was scared that they would get themselves into unnecessary trouble. Last night’s fight hadn’t been their fault, but he still worried. Mary always assured him that she understood that cattle drives were part of his job. He appreciated her so much for that, but he also knew she would prefer to have him at home.

While he was away, Mary and Buck, along with a dozen ranch hands, were running things back home at the ranch. Buck was his right-hand man back on the ranch, and together with Mary, they were fully capable, but he would still have preferred to have been there.

Yes, it was definitely time for a change. Going on cattle drives two to three times a year had become too much for him to deal with. When he got home, he would discuss it with Mary, and they would come up with a plan that would ensure the continued success of their ranch.