Chapter One

"Elizabeth Francine McCready! Get your skinny little butt up to this house and clean all that mud off of you! Your father will whip you good and fire me too if he sees you looking like that!" Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she stomped her boots to clean some of the mud from them and walked up toward the house.

"See you later Frank." she said to the crusty old ranch hand she had helped wrangling steers. He gave her a dismissive wave and went back to work. Elizabeth looked down at her brown trousers and white blouse, all thoroughly caked with mud and then smiled up at Anita, the plump woman who had been like a mother to her growing up since her own mother had died when she had only been a baby.

"I'm nineteen years old Anita, a bit too old for pa to whip me just for getting muddy." Elizabeth said matter of factly. Anita shook her head as she looked the girl up and down.

"It's not just that you got muddy girl, it's that you got muddy when your father is on his way back with a man." Elizabeth rolled her eyes and took the brown leather, stetson hat from her head.

"Another one?" she asked as Anita ushered her into the house.

"Yes dear, another one." Anita led Elizabeth down the hall to the girls bedroom and waited patiently for her to undress and slide into the hot bath water Anita had just gotten done putting in the large metal tub.

"When is he going to realize that I'm not interested in having a husband? I won't marry just anybody." Elizabeth said as she began to wash the mud from her soft skin with the rose scented soap.

"He wouldn't bring you just anybody." Anita said patiently as she undid the long plait braid from Elizabeth's thick blond hair. "All the men he has brought here have been very good picks... They would have made good husbands." Anita smiled because she could practically 'hear' Elizabeth's eyes rolling.

"Well I don't want a good husband, I want a great husband. Besides aren't the days of arranged marriages over? I want to pick my own husband."

"You can. Just so long as you pick one your father likes." Anita replied as she grabbed the hairbrush off the vanity and handed it to Elizabeth who muttered some words under her breath that would have her dead Christian mother rolling over in her grave.

"Now finish getting cleaned up and put on that dress that I have lying on the bed. Do something pretty with your hair and don't come out until you look like a presentable lady."

"Why are you pushing me so hard to get married? I figured you'd be on my side seeing as how you've never been married." Anita sighed and put her hands on her plump hips.

"Not that it's any of your business missy, but I've never been married because I just couldn't find a cowboy worth my time. I was too picky and now I'm alone and couldn't turn a mans head if I walked buck naked down main street." Elizabeth laughed.

"Oh I think you'd definitely turn heads." she said matter of factly and then she ducked her head under the water. When she raised back up and wiped her eyes Anita was gone and so was her pile of dirty clothes and her boots.

She sighed as she wondered what kind of man her father was bringing home this time. Probably nobody she'd be interested in. She was finding that what she wanted in a man and what her father wanted for her in a man were two very different things. He wanted money and security. She wanted a pair of big warm hands and a heart stopping smile. Maybe she'd get lucky and he'd bring home a man that had all four!

"Yeah right." she muttered. "That'll be the day pigs fly." She wondered if it would be worth drowning herself as she sunk back down in the hot water.

XXX

Brody put his hat over his face to block the bright sun as he stretched out in the back of the small wagon and listened to his new boss and the man with the fancy suit talking up front.

He felt sorry for the guy in the suit, riding out to meet the woman that his new boss, Ernest McCready, said could be his wife. Brody sure as hell didn't want a wife and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why any man would.

You'd spend all your money on their fancy clothes and expensive jewelry just so they'd cook a few meals and pop out some babies. Women were only good for three things and that was cooking, complaining and sex. Brody knew how to cook good enough to get by, he had an older brother that complained plenty and if he ever wanted sex, there was plenty of willing women at the whorehouse. Yep, he had no need for a wife because he already had all three things they were good for taken care of.

"What is your daughters name Mr. McCready?" the slick talking city man asked.

"Elizabeth. She's a real beauty too, just like her mother was, Mr. Foster. You'll like her just fine."

"I'm sure I will sir, and please call me Grant." Brody snorted and then quickly coughed to cover up the sound. Nothing like puckering your lips up to your soon to be, and very rich, father-in-laws ass.

"She'll like you fine too I'm sure, Grant."

"I hope so sir. The way you describe her, she sounds absolutely wonderful."

"Yes she is." Mr. McCready replied and Brody couldn't help but wonder just how ugly the woman must be when she needed her father to find her a husband.

"So how many other hands you got out here Mr. McCready?" Brody asked, moving his hat back to the top of his head and leaning forward.

"You'll make ten." Mr. McCready replied.

"It's lucky one of them hasn't swept the little lady off her feet." Brody said with a grin and this earned him a sharp look from both men up front.

"My Elizabeth is too good for the likes of a poor old ranch hand." Mr. McCready said matter of factly. "She deserves a man who can provide her with a comfortable and stable life." Brody nodded and then leaned back against the side of the wagon. Spoiled little princess is what it sounded like to him. Good luck with that, Grant.

Brody pulled a cigarette and a match from his pocket. He ran the match across his stubble covered cheek to spark a flame and then lit his cigarette and took a long draw.

Spoiled, ugly, rich girl was his guess. Fancy silk dress, powder on her face, lacey gloves and a slow working brain. That was what Elizabeth sounded like to him. Good damn thing he wasn't good enough for her. He stretched out his long legs, crossed his ankles and stared at the passing prairie and occasional cluster of pines and oaks.

XXX

Elizabeth stared at herself in the full length mirror in her room and curled her nose. It's not that she hated dresses but she hated the silky ones that her father and Anita always insisted she wear whenever a new man came to the house.

The bright pink fabric looked ridiculous and made her feel like a child instead of a grown woman. She had her hair pulled back on her head with pins and several long tendrils that curled slightly framed her face and neck. She looked into her own big green eyes and sighed.

"Why am I dressing up like this?" she asked out loud. Even if the new man liked what he saw when she looked like this, he'd be disappointed tomorrow when he came by and found her in trousers and a plain shirt with her hair pulled up beneath her hat, big boots on her feet, and her covered from head to toe in dust, dirt and mud.

She was half tempted to pull the clothes off and go downstairs in her work clothes but if there was one thing she hated to do, it was let her father down. If he wanted her to wear this ridiculous dress and bat her lashes at some gussied up man than that's what she'd do... But she wasn't going to marry the jerk.

XXX

Brody let out a long whistle when the house came into view. It was two stories with bright white walls and a black door and black shutters around the many windows. A wide porch wrapped around the first story with thick white banisters and pillars.

"Nice house." he said as he crushed his cigarette against his boot and tossed it to the ground.

"Thank you." Mr. McCready said as he pulled the wagon to a stop outside a large red barn and Brody leapt out of the wagon and landed with a thud in his boots. He reached back in the wagon and grabbed his canvas bag, left over from his time in the war and slung it over his shoulder.

"The bunkhouse is over there." Mr. McCready pointed at a wooden building behind the barn. Brody nodded and then took in the rest of the ranch that was visible. A large corral was attached to the barn and another corral was to his left, filled with cattle and ranch hands. The hands were branding the young calves if the painful cries of the calves and the scent of singed fur and skin were any indication. Brody had always hated that process but he knew it was necessary

"Well go on and get your stuff put away Brody so you can get to work." Mr. McCready said then the old man broke down into a fit of coughing. Brody raised a brow at the sound and quickly looked away from him and started toward the bunkhouse. He'd heard men during the war get coughs like that and usually it had ended with the coughing man being put in a shallow grave as the company moved on.

Brody made his way to the empty bunkhouse and looked around at the messy beds within. He rubbed the back of his dirty neck and walked to the end of the building to a bed that was still made and looked untouched. The small table beside it was empty and he figured this bed must be his. He put his bag down and then made his way back out to find the head ranch hand and figure out what they needed him to do.

XXX

"Elizabeth, darling, get down here. There is someone I would like for you to meet." Ernest McCready called to his daughter. Grant stood nervously beside the window, twisting his gray derby hat in his hands. Marriage to Elizabeth McCready would make him a rich man. Ernest McCready was a sick man and everything he had, he would pass to his daughter upon his death. As her husband, Grant would be the one to be in charge of the ranch and the money.

Grant ran his hand through his slicked back dark hair and looked out the window. He wasn't a bad man. Most marriages between higher class individuals were based on money and what both parties could stand to gain. Grant was a rich man and Elizabeth would gain that and status by marrying him since he was well known in all the political circles, his father being a senator in Virginia.

He heard the whoosh of skirts as someone made their way down the hallway and he turned to find it impossible to catch his breath as he took in the sight of the woman who had just entered the room.

Her pink satin and lace dress was tight up top, emphasizing her full breasts and tiny waist before flaring out at her womanly hips. Her neck was long and graceful and her face was truly breathtaking. Her nose was tiny and upturned slightly and her lips were pink and full. Her cheekbones were high and covered in a light dusting of freckles, visible even through the powder she had placed on her cheeks.

Her wide green eyes were framed with long blond lashes that matched the color of her hair, pulled up on her head with only a few long, curled tendrils framing her face and giving him the urge to gently push them out of her face and behind her ear.

"Elizabeth, this is Grant Foster. Mr. Foster, this is my daughter Elizabeth." Mr. McCready beamed with pride as he introduced his daughter and Grant smiled.

"Hello Miss. McCready." he said as he took her gloved hand and pressed his lips against the cool pink satin.

Elizabeth had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes as the man kissed her glove and then raised back up. Another one. Her father had brought her yet another rich, well dressed, prissy man.

Of course this one was better looking than some of the other ones. His dark hair was full of product and slicked back on his head. His blue eyes seem to sparkle as he looked at her. His face was somewhat softer than what she preferred but handsome none the less and his smile revealed perfect white teeth.

He was tall and his body was clearly lean and well built beneath his expensive gray suit and vest.

"Hello Mr. Foster, it is a pleasure to meet you." she replied, doing her best to sound like a polite and proper lady.

"I am going to show Grant around the ranch, Elizabeth, perhaps you would accompany us?"

"Of course." Elizabeth said to her father and then Grant held out his arm as he placed his derby hat back on his head.

"Allow me." he said and his voice was warm. Elizabeth smiled and looped her arm through his and they followed his father out of the house.

Elizabeth did not pay attention to a single word her father and Grant spoke about the ranch as they walked. Instead she was focused on the calf branding going on and wishing she could jump the fence and help. Her place was working this ranch, not parading around in fancy dresses with a rich city slicker hanging off her arm.

"Come on Brody! You say you're tough, break that beast!" she heard Braxton's loud, booming voice call out, full of amusement. Elizabeth turned and looked at the corral behind the barn and her eyes widened at the sight of the wild mustang, leaping and bucking with a rider clinging to her back for dear life.

"What's going on over there?" Grant asked and Elizabeth answered before her father could.

"Clearly, that man is trying, and failing, to break that mustang. It's a hard thing to break a horse that doesn't want to be broken." Grant raised a brow and looked down at the woman on his arm.

"And what does a proper lady like you know about breaking mustangs?" he asked. Elizabeth wanted to let him know exactly how much she knew about the running of this ranch but one look at her father, and the warning look in his eyes, told her that he wouldn't be happy if she did so.

"Just what I've seen through the windows of course." she replied sweetly and she batted her lashed for good measure. Grant laughed. It was a light laugh and it filled her with irritation. Clearly he believed a woman's place was in the home. Strike three for Mr. Foster. Strike one had been the fact that her father had chosen him. Strike two had been the city slicker outfit and hair style and strike three was being a male chauvinist who didn't think a woman should know anything about a ranch.

Elizabeth looked back at the man on the horse and wondered who he was. She couldn't see much about him since he was currently being tossed around like a rag doll. His shoulder length brown hair was blowing around his face and she assumed the brown leather stetson hat lying in the dirt was his.

She was happy that her father and Mr. Foster became lost in conversation about breaking horses then because it gave her the chance to watch the newest hand at work. She liked knowing what the men working for her were capable of.

XXX

So Brody had bitten off more than he could chew when he'd jumped on this mustang's back. Clearly this lady needed more time to get to know her rider and required a bit more sweet talk than what he'd given to her, but dammit that damn Braxton had refused to keep his mouth shut and had goaded him into jumping right on her back.

Now he was clinging to her and his thighs were burning from the effort as he held big fist fulls of her mane in his hands and prayed he wouldn't eat dirt in front of the big son of a bitch named Braxton.

Brody caught a flash of pink and looked over at the corral fence and his eyes were immediately drawn to the woman in between Grant and Mr. McCready. So this was Elizabeth McCready.

He'd been right about the silky dress, the fancy gloves and the powdered face but damn oh damn had he been wrong about the ugly. He'd been one hundred kinds of wrong about the ugly. She had the body and the face of an angel. The body and the face of a woman who could make a man change his mind about settling down.

Suddenly the mustang surged beneath him and he was too distracted by the sight of the boss's daughter to right himself before he was tossed, very unceremoniously, onto his ass in the dirt. He jumped to his feet and ran for the fence as the mustang charged him. He grabbed his hat from the dirt and placed one hand on the fence, launching himself over it and placing his hat back on his head as he landed.

He saw the three onlookers on the other side of the corral, turn and walk back toward the house and he wiped the dust and dirt from his throbbing backside.

"You might as well forget about Elizabeth, Brody. Forget you even saw her. She's more woman then any man can handle and she's off limits to all us ranch hands anyway. The boss'll fire you and place a bullet in your ass just for good measure as you ride away if you so much as think about laying a hand on his little girl." Braxton said matter of factly. Brody snorted at the man, who was taller than his own six and a half feet, and broad as a bull with thick dark curls on his head and a handlebar mustache on his face.

"Who the hell are you talking about? I didn't notice a single woman except for the one with four legs and fur that just knocked me on my ass." Brody replied and Braxton shrugged as he chuckled.

"Whatever you say kid." he said. Brody rolled his eyes and launched himself back over the corral fence. He walked to the center of the corral and sat down in the dust, taking his hat off and placing it on his lap. If the mustang needed sweet talking and time that's what he'd give her.... Leave it to a woman to be so difficult about something.