A Wife in Wyoming. Lynnette Kent
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Ranch Rescue
Ford Marshall returns to Wyoming temporarily to help his brothers run the Circle M. He’s looking forward to some hard work, but also peace and quiet—until Caroline Donnelly hijacks his ranch for her program to help troubled teens.
Now he’s got unruly kids to deal with, a thousand chores and a growing attraction to Caroline that he isn’t sure he wants to deny. But Ford has nothing to offer a hometown girl. He has to return to his job in the city at some point soon—his brothers depend on that outside income to keep the ranch afloat. So why can’t Ford get the idea of a Wyoming wife, and coming home for good, off his mind?
He gazed at her in the cool blue twilight.
“You don’t live out at your dad’s ranch these days?”
“Um...no. I have a place in Bisons Creek, the top floor of the old Curry house. Remember it?”
“Sure. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I thought you’d be living at home.”
“No, Ford. I grew up and moved out.”
His jaw tightened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“Like you are?”
He held his hands out from his sides. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re clearly not happy to be showing me around. I was going to apologize, but that’ll take more of your valuable time.” She jolted down the steps and stalked past him.
“Caroline, wait. Caroline!” Ford caught up with her, grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. “Don’t run away.”
Breathing hard, she glared at him. “I am not running away. I’m trying to give you the distance you so obviously want.” She hated that saying it hurt enough to sting her eyes with tears. “Let. Me. Go.” She jerked her arm, trying to get free.
His fingers didn’t loosen around her wrist. “I’m not letting go, so calm down. It’s like fighting with a butterfly.”
She stopped, appalled. “I am not a butterfly.”
“No, you’re a really beautiful woman who’s driving me crazy.”
Her jaw dropped open in shock. She closed it, then swallowed hard. “What did you say?”
One of the best parts of writing fiction is being able to create the setting for your characters. You can put them into a world of glitz and glamour or, as I prefer, into a small town at the foot of Wyoming’s Big Horn Mountains. You can make them cowboys with horses to ride and cattle to herd and a ranch to take care of spread out under the wide blue sky of the high plains. You can write about the importance of family and friends, community and faith, commitment and integrity. And there’s nothing sexier than a man in jeans, boots and a cowboy hat.
Take the Marshall brothers—four cowboys bound by their ties to each other and to the land. There’s trouble on the Circle M Ranch this summer and it will take all of them, working together, to handle it. Ford’s story unfolds in A Wife in Wyoming, as he reconnects with the hometown girl he never forgot. He wasn’t good enough for Caroline Donnelly in the old days, but he’s changed. And so, it turns out, has she. Will those changes bring them closer together, or push them further apart?
I hope you enjoy getting to know the Marshalls and their world. I love to hear from readers—please feel free to send a note to PO Box 204, Vass, NC 28394, or contact me through my website, lynnettekentbooks.com.
As ever,
Lynnette Kent
A Wife in Wyoming
Lynnette Kent
LYNNETTE KENT lives on a farm in southeastern North Carolina with her six horses and six dogs. When she isn’t busy riding, driving or feeding animals, she loves to tend her gardens and read and write books.
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Contents
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
There was trouble on the Circle M Ranch, and Ford Marshall had come to take care of it. His brothers were doing their best, but when problems arose, the four Marshall boys handled them together. Always had, always would.
Ford had driven more than a thousand miles in the past two days, with only the last fifty left to go. Still, he pulled over at the top of the final descent, got out of the truck and went to stand on the edge of a five-hundred-foot drop. He stared down at the Powder River Valley laid out below, where the slopes of the Big Horn