Unclaimed Bride. Lauri Robinson

the foothills of the Big Horns. His ranch, Heaven on Earth, was nestled there, right where the earth rose majestically into the sky. It was good land. Rich soil, an unending water supply and more acres of sweet grazing pastures than anywhere else in the nation. Come June, it would be fifteen years since he and Christine had topped the little ridge of the valley still a few miles ahead for the first time. She’d shouted for him to stop the oxen. He’d done so of course, wondering what had caught her attention. She’d jumped from the seat, and with her blond hair twisting and turning in the wind, she’d declared, “This is it, Ellis! This is our heaven on earth.”

      She’d been right of course, as always, and they’d set to building their new lives together. A right fine life they’d had, too, until the birth of their second child eight years later had taken her and the babe from him forevermore.

      He’d mourned the great loss, still did, but in the same right, he held thankfulness for what their years had given him. Happiness, joy, one of the largest ranches this side of the Mississippi and more precious than all else, his Angel.

      As if she understood his thoughts, his daughter leaned her head against his shoulder and settled those big brown eyes on him. Warmed, he winked. She grinned, and as the snow continued to pile up on the trail, the horses clomped onward.

      By the time they topped the little ridge an hour later, the sun, which hadn’t quite given up trying to brighten the gray winter sky, broke through for a moment to grace the homestead below with a welcoming glow. Even the wind stilled when the horses stopped, as was their normal routine, giving Ellis the opportunity to appreciate home from his favorite overlook.

      Swirls of smoke spiraled out of the house and bunkhouse chimneys. The other buildings, the barns, sheds and lean-tos, sat quietly as snow-flakes landed on their shingled roofs. Steam rose around the cattle near the barns, and men mingled between the buildings and pens, making the ranch look like a miniature city. It practically was. There were few things the ranch didn’t provide. The only reason he and Angel had gone to town today was to pick up the fixings for the holiday gathering they’d host next month.

      “That’s it, Miss Jennings,” Angel said, staring at the site below. “That’s Heaven on Earth.”

      The woman turned slowly, as if trying to keep one eye on the homestead. “What?”

      “Heaven on Earth,” Angel repeated. “That’s the name of our ranch.” Angel looked at him before she turned back to the woman. “Welcome home.”

      Ellis sucked in air as if he’d just been stomach punched. He actually braced a hand to his abdomen, wondering where the sudden lurching had come from. Swallowing, he realized it was from the way Miss Jennings’s blue eyes stared at him.

      He tucked the brim of his hat down, and flicked the reins over Jack and Jim, encouraging the animals to begin the final mile—all downhill—of their journey. He kicked the edge of the blanket away from his left foot, making a clear path to the brake if needed. He had no reason to be nervous, he’d traipsed the trail a million times over, but for some reason his nerve endings were dancing a jig beneath his skin.

      The decline went as usual, swift and uncomplicated, and the unloading of the wagon happened just as smoothly. The ranch hands were used to unloading Angel’s purchases, and since ninety percent of what they hauled went into the house, it didn’t take long before one of the hands led Jack and Jim off to the barn.

      Ellis entered through the open front door, carrying the last of the bundles. The foyer, though piled with boxes, crates and bundles, was empty. A faint voice, Angel’s, filtered down from above—no doubt she was showing Miss Jennings to a room. He set the last package on top of the others, silently admitting he was clueless as to what Angel had purchased, even though she had given him a full accounting of what she needed.

      Miss Jennings’s trunks were not amongst the other stuff, which meant Angel must have directed they be carried upstairs. His daughter was like her mother in that sense, too, good at giving orders and expecting them to be followed.

      Shrugging out of his sheepskin coat, Ellis walked across the foyer and down the hall that led to his office. He’d purchased a few things himself and had some accounting to do—now was as good of a time to do it as ever.

      Settled into his high-backed steerhide chair, he flipped open the ledger sitting on top of his desk and reached for the inkwell. A loud thud shook the ceiling. The scream accompanying it sent him flying out the door. Taking the stairs three at a time had him at the top of the steps and shooting down the hallway before his ears picked up the sounds now filling the house. He skidded to a stop in front of the first open bedroom door.

      Angel and Miss Jennings were on the floor, covered in an assortment of women’s underthings. The lid of one of the round-top trunks rocked back and forth on the floor. It had been years since giggles had echoed off the walls of the big house, and the way these two were going at it, the men in the bunkhouse had to hear it. An unusual fluttering happened in Ellis’s insides.

      Angel plucked a few frilly garments off her head. Seeing him, she giggled harder. “Oh, Pa.” She covered her snickering mouth. When she caught air again, she continued. “You should have seen it. As soon as we released the latch, the top flew off like a blasting cap.”

      Miss Jennings had one hand covering her lips, and her tiny shoulders shook with mirth. Lace hung over her head. He couldn’t tell if it was a petticoat or a pair of pantaloons, but the sparkling gaze of those unique eyes and the flush of her dainty cheeks sent a shiver racing up his spine like a mini bolt of lightning.

       Chapter Two

      Constance had put it off long enough. She’d been scrounging up courage all evening. Squaring her shoulders, she walked down the dark hall to Ellis Clayton’s office and, before she lost her nerve, rapped on the door. He hadn’t joined them for dinner, nor had he been back from the barn when Angel showed her where she could take a bath—which had been heavenly. But an hour ago, while staring out her bedroom window, she’d seen him cross the yard, once again hoisting his coat collar up against the snow. After checking her image in the mirror and making a few minor adjustments to her hair, she’d left her room. The past half hour, she’d paced the upstairs hall, listening to his downstairs movements. She may have found an ounce of courage, but a solution to her current situation remained as far away as England.

      The opening of the door made her flinch. She’d knocked, so the action shouldn’t have startled her, but it did.

      Ellis lifted a brow. “Miss Jennings? Is there something you need?”

      Tugging the shawl about her shoulders and twisting her fingers deep in the yarn, she nodded. “I’d like to speak with you, if you have a minute.”

      His lag increased her anxiety. She curled her toes to keep them from twisting her about for a fast exit. After what seemed like an eternity, he stepped back, holding the door wide, and waved an arm for her to enter.

      Thick carpet softened her footsteps. The office was as elaborate as the rest of the home. Totally unexpected in the wilds of Wyoming Territory, but in some ways, so similar to her childhood home in Richmond, she wanted to sigh with memories. Shelves stacked with books from the floor to the ceiling covered two walls, and a large fireplace not only warmed the room, but provided a friendly glow. A massive desk sat in the center of the room, positioned so one could gaze out the large windows framed with olive-colored drapes that were tied back to sway along the glass panes from ceiling to floor. The familiar scent of leather-bound books filled the air and had Constance taking a deep breath.

      “Have a seat,” he offered, pointing to the set of matching armchairs in front of the desk while he walked behind it.

      Memories snuck forward, of her father stationing himself just as Ellis was. She’d often sat on the corner of Papa’s desk, thudding her heels against the wood. Now wasn’t the time for childhood recollections. She had to quell her nerves, and offer her proposition, which would include sharing some of her past. Ellis deserved an explanation in exchange for his kindness if nothing else, but there were some things she’d never be able to