She stared forward.
“No hiding.”
His jaw tightened.
But he let her stay.
The lead rider dismounted.
He looked to be in his forties.
Clean-shaven.
Fine gloves despite the dust.
Not a common outlaw.
A man who preferred other people to commit his violence.
He removed his hat.
“There you are.”
The bride’s hand curled around her skirt.
The giant’s voice came low.
“You know this man?”
“Yes.”
The rider smiled.
“Know is an ungenerous word.”
“I gave her employment.”
The bride answered:
“You gave me a desk and expected gratitude to excuse everything done around it.”
The rider’s smile tightened.
The giant looked toward her.
The rider continued.
“She stole property.”
The ranch hands shifted.
The bride did not.
“I copied records.”
“You removed a ledger.”
The giant’s gaze moved toward her satchel visible through the open house door.
The bride looked at him.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“Before supper.”
The rider laughed.
“Convenient.”
The giant ignored him.
“What records?”
The bride’s eyes remained on the rider.
“Land purchases.”
“Freight contracts.”
“Payments.”
“Names.”
The rider’s expression hardened.
“Company business.”
The bride looked toward the rancher.
“And one of those names belongs to a dead man.”
The giant understood.
His brother.
The rider saw it happen.
That was a mistake.
“You found the locket.”
the rider said.
The bride froze.
The giant stepped forward.
“You know about it.”
The rider smiled slightly.
“More than you.”
The ranch hands reached for rifles.
Again, the giant lifted one hand.
The rider looked toward the bride.
“Give me the satchel.”
“No.”
“Those documents belong to the company.”
“They belong to anyone whose land you stole.”
Silence.
The giant turned toward her.
“Stole?”
The bride nodded.
The rider sighed as though she were an irritating child.
“Business records are complicated.”
“Forgery is not.”
His smile vanished.
The bride continued.
“I balanced your books.”
“I copied signatures.”
“I watched men purchase homestead claims from people who had supposedly signed contracts weeks after they died.”
The older ranch hand swore softly.
The rider’s companions shifted.
One looked uncomfortable.
The bride saw it.
Good.
Not everyone knew the whole truth.
She raised her voice.
“Ask him what the company paid for the south valley.”
The lead rider’s face hardened.
“Enough.”
“Ask him whose signature appears on the deed.”
The giant’s hands curled.
The rider looked toward him.
“This is not your affair.”
The giant answered:
“You rode onto my land looking for the woman I intend to marry.”
“It became my affair before you opened your mouth.”
The rider smiled without humor.
“A mail-order bride with stolen documents.”
“You think that makes her trustworthy?”
The rancher looked toward the woman.
She met his eyes.
He asked one question.
“Did you lie to me in your letters?”
“No.”
“Did you know about my brother when you answered the advertisement?”