Nathaniel met her at the station near Red Hollow on a cold September afternoon.
He arrived two hours early.
Mateo accompanied him with the ranch's strongest wagon, which they'd modified after Clara explained her travel needs in a letter.
The vehicle had a reinforced floor, carefully arranged seating, a stable boarding platform, and a weatherproof covering.
Nathaniel had spent four evenings working on it despite the pain in his injured hand.
Mateo watched him adjust a metal bracket for the third time.
“It's strong enough.”
Nathaniel frowned.
“Could be stronger.”
Mateo raised one eyebrow.
“You're building a wagon, not a railway bridge.”
Nathaniel tightened the bracket.
“Better safe than sorry.”
Mateo smiled.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then asked.
“Nervous?”
Nathaniel grunted.
“No.”
Mateo looked toward the station.
“Then why did you shave twice?”
Nathaniel glared at him.
Mateo burst into laughter.
When the train finally arrived, steam rolled across the platform.
Passengers stepped down carrying bags and packages.
Several men unloaded trunks.
A woman in a green coat hurried toward her husband.
A child began crying.
Then Nathaniel saw Clara.
She was standing near the carriage entrance, waiting patiently while station staff brought the arranged boarding equipment into position.
She wore a deep burgundy traveling dress with dark lace along the sleeves, a wide black hat decorated with a small velvet ribbon, and an elegant coat tailored to her exceptionally full figure.
Her chestnut hair fell in thick waves around her broad, beautiful face.
Nathaniel stopped breathing.
For a moment, he simply stared.
He had expected her to be large.
She'd told him.
What he hadn't expected was how striking she would be.
Her expressive brown eyes.
Her confident posture.
The quiet way she surveyed the station.
And the fact that she appeared considerably more interested in the condition of the loading platform than in the people staring at her.
When she noticed Nathaniel, she smiled.
“Mr. Carter?”
He removed his hat.
“Miss Whitmore.”
She looked at him.
For a moment, both were quiet.
Then Clara smiled faintly.
“You look less miserable than your letters suggested.”
Nathaniel stared.
Mateo began coughing suspiciously behind him.
The rancher felt heat rise into his face.
“I beg your pardon?”
Clara's smile widened.
“You wrote as though your ranch had already defeated you.”
Nathaniel considered.
Then answered.
“It keeps trying.”
She laughed.