Marriage For Sale. CAROL DEVINE

he asked.

      “None.”

      “None?”

      “None,” she reiterated, still smarting from the disconcerting thought that Linc was merely fooling around with her.

      “Have you been to any other towns?”

      “No.”

      “Cities?”

      She sensed his searching glance and shook her head.

      “What about the other members of The Community?”

      “Other than health emergencies where specialized doctors are required, traveling outside The Community is simply not done.”

      “Don’t people need to buy tools and other farming equipment?”

      “Tools and other implements are forged by blacksmiths. What can’t be made is delivered.”

      “What about food, groceries?”

      “We grow our own food.”

      “All of it?”

      “What we can’t grow we trade for at the Hudson Valley co-op with our canned goods.” Somewhat mollified by his interest, Rachel relented, expanding her answer. “Our pickled peppers and mint-flavored peaches are in much demand.”

      “You can’t preserve all your food. What about refrigeration?”

      “The refrigeration you are referring to requires electric power. The use of such power is discouraged in order to maintain the connection to the land and the values of simplicity that go with it. However, I am familiar with gas heat. The elders encourage its use in our homes because the winters in Montana are so long and cold.”

      “Isn’t that against the so-called rules?”

      “We have adopted some modern conveniences to protect from the worst of winter weather. The safekeeping of the oldest and youngest is of primary importance in all families, wouldn’t you agree?”

      “Does that mean you have indoor plumbing?”

      “Each farmhouse has an individual pipe which delivers clean water.”

      “So old Granny Isaacs has to trot to the outhouse in the middle of winter to take care of business. Is that what you’re saying?”

      “The outhouse is out-of-doors for good reason. Would you have it any other way?”

      He blew out a great gust of air and tipped his hat back on his head in disbelief. “How old are you again?”

      “Eight and twenty.”

      “Next time say twenty-eight. Can you at least read?”

      “Certainly.”

      “You went to school?”

      “The Community takes the education of its children very seriously. Of course I went to school.”

      “How long?”

      “Through the eighth grade.”

      “Through the eighth grade,” he repeated, damning the place where she came from once again in his mind. Clearly, she was going to have to learn a lot more about the outside world. She wouldn’t make it on her own otherwise. And right now he didn’t see any alternative but to become her teacher. “For the time being, leaving you in town by yourself may not be the best idea I’ve ever had. You need to learn how to cope first.”

      “Learning how to cope with you will be a useful skill indeed.”

      He examined her, his green eyes narrow. “Believe me, I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

      Rachel quailed at the thought. Yet also felt exhilarated. Afraid that he might be making fun of her again, Rachel held his gaze. “What do you mean?” she asked pointedly.

      “For one thing, get used to the idea that you’ll be moving to town at some point. I figure it may take you a week or two to learn how to cope. If you don’t cooperate—”

      “You are my husband,” Rachel replied stiffly. “Of course I shall cooperate.”

      “Is that what you’ve been doing for the past hour—cooperating?”

      “I have an unfortunate habit of speaking my mind. Forgive me.”

      “I want you to speak your mind,” he said, in what sounded to her like exaggerated forbearance. “But you better be listening when I’m speaking about what’s on my mind. Specifically, learning what I want you to learn.”

      She placed her hand over her heart in a grand show of her own forbearance. “I swear on my mother’s grave. Or do you wish for me to cross my heart and hope to die?” she asked tartly.

      What he wished was for her to stop using those quaint expressions he remembered using as a kid—when he was still playful and innocent. “No,” he retorted. “I want you alive so I can wring your scrawny little neck.”

      Rachel clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from smiling too broadly at him. It was one thing to bait a bear—quite another to provoke him. She had made her point. Rubbing it in would accomplish nothing. Removing her hand, she wagged her finger at him. “You are a great one for joshing.”

      “The word is joking,” he said, sending her the sternest of glances. “Use it.”

      “Joking,” she repeated obediently, though she was having trouble maintaining a reasonably sober expression.

      “That’s your first lesson. The next one is to realize that Tall Timber is going to be your future home. I’ll give you until the end of the month to get ready to live there. After that, you’ll be on your own whether you’re ready or not.”

      “I understand. However, you shall not regret your decision to take me to your ranch. Thank you.”

      “I’m already regretting it, thanks to you,” he groused.

      Rachel hid her smile so as not to antagonize him further. Horses, her most favorite of animals, had their own way of grousing, too. They liked to put up a spirited resistance when asked to comply with her wishes. It was their way of reminding her that they weighed far more than she did and possessed lethal power. But her willingness to speak until she was fully heard kept the balance of power intact.

      There was little doubt in her mind that though Linc was less than enthusiastic about their marriage, once he understood what a valuable asset she was on his ranch, he wouldn’t want to let her go—either as a help mate or a wife.

      Three

      “Good gracious, Linc, what a marvel to behold. Your ranch is beyond anything I could have imagined,” Rachel exclaimed when the pickup crested the last hill, revealing the panoramic view that included the main buildings of the Triple M Ranch. Designed to look as though it had sprung from this land more than a century ago, the buildings blended into the austere landscape, with their weathered barn siding and steep, shake roofs.

      “Don’t get any ideas,” he warned, dedicated to squelching her enthusiasm. “You won’t be staying here long.”

      “Even so, I’ve rarely seen such a sight. And look at your dogs. I love dogs.” In one quick move, she hopped from the pickup before it came to a complete stop and waded into the yapping pack, showing a complete and utter disregard for her own safety.

      “Rachel!” By the time he halted the truck, the dogs were swarming around her like bees to honey. Luckily they were friendly, but Rachel couldn’t have known that when she took it into her head to jump from a moving truck. She needed more than a few lessons on how to survive in town. She needed to be taught how to survive, period.

      Shaking his head in disbelief, Linc opened the gate to the nearest round pen and drove the entire rig inside. Once he let down the trailer door in back, Summer would come charging out. Shortcuts like spooking