Chapter One

Wyoming 1887

Birds sang their pleasant songs. Butterflies fluttered on the gentle spring breeze and bees buzzed quietly among the garden flowers. It was a beautiful day with comfortable weather, making the veranda a would-be place to spend the early afternoon.

But Rebecca was not enjoying the heavenly day—as a matter of fact, she felt very much as if she were in hell.

For today the proof had come that, once again, Rebecca had failed to get a child in her womb. And Martin had been quite vocal about his disappointment. He tended to forget, in his own displeasure, that it was a disappointment for Rebecca as well.

That's why she had been relieved when the man had left for a meeting in town. It meant she would have a few hours without his moping over her lack of pregnancy. A few hours to deal with her own emotions over her barren womb.

Rebecca did not have a bad life. She lived in a magnificent home on a sprawling ranch. She had all the finer things in life. Clothes, jewelry, baubles and trinkets. There were maids and servants and not a single household duty rested on her shoulders.

No, she didn't have a bad life—she simply had no real life at all.

Rebecca had not been born into this life. She'd been born out east to much different circumstances. Her parents had been dirt floor poor in their pitiful shack with rickety walls that hadn't offered any real protection from winter winds.

Her father had worked himself into an early grave; he'd only been thirty-two when his heart had given out. Rebecca's mother, very old before her time, had struggled for four years before realizing she could not provide for her three children any longer.

Rebecca, sixteen then, had been the oldest and the only girl. It had been with tears in her tired brown eyes, that Rebecca's mother had informed her she'd been purchased by a wealthy Wyoming rancher. It would provide her mother and brothers with money to survive as well as give Rebecca a better life than she'd ever have at home.

And so, at sixteen, Rebecca had left everything she knew behind and become a wife. Now, eight years later, she felt her husband's disappointment grow daily.

Martin was nearing forty. He had married her for one reason—to give him children. So far she had failed magnificently at that task.

Thanks to the doctor saying she needed a life without any excitement or stress to help her conceive, boredom had become her every day. She had no real friends, simply acquaintances through her husband. They were all terribly rich and stuffy folk and Rebecca knew they looked down their noses at Martin's store-bought wife from the slums.

She wasn't even allowed to help with the daily chores or tend to the animals as that would be actions far below her new station.

And, so, she sat. Day in and day out, sipping tea and wishing she could get with child. It would make Martin so happy—and herself as well. A little boy or girl to see to and care for. A beautiful babe to love and cherish just as her parents had loved her.

"Isn't that a lovely smile?" Martin's voice interrupted her thoughts.

Rebecca turned her head slightly to see him stepping onto the veranda with guests behind him—his two best friends Horace and Lester and their wives Sara and Marie.

It seemed her peaceful day was over, but honestly, she didn't mind. With company around, Martin may not dwell too much on the mornings events and she would have a bit of conversation for several hours.

Rebecca stood quickly. "Hello darling," she greeted as Martin kissed her cheek. "I didn't expect you home so soon."

Martin smiled as he stood beside her and put his arm around her waist lovingly. "Business ended early and I thought it was time we had guests. You haven't had company in a long while."

Rebecca smiled her thanks. Her husband truly was a good and decent man and he truly cared for her. Rebecca cared for him as well.

She graciously greeted their guests and everyone settled down together on the veranda. Their servant Tillie rushed off to get tea for the newcomers.

After a long while of polite conversation, Sara cleared her throat. "Rebecca, we've been attempting to convince your husband to come to town next Friday. They are going to be putting on a splendid performance at the theater and I believe you'd enjoy it."

Rebecca smiled. "Oh, that would be fun!" She laid an eager hand on Martin's arm. "We haven't gone to the theater in over a year."

Martin's blue eyes were hesitant as he looked at her. "The doctor recommended you rest, dear. He said that rest might help."

Rebecca winced. She knew their guests would know all about her failures as a wife. Martin was a man who didn't see anything as personal and would openly discuss anything.

"Darling, please," she implored, batting her lashes. "The doctor also said melancholy could hinder us. I need an evening out with you away from the ranch."

"Come on, Martin!" Lester insisted. "Let the poor girl out awhile."

"Yeah," Horace winked. "Giving women what they want now and then can lead to wonders in the bedroom."

While Lester and Horace chuckled, their wives swatted their arms and fanned their faces with indignation. Rebecca merely wished she could curl up in a ball and disappear.

Martin rubbed at his chin, his gaze never leaving her. "Will a night out truly make you happy? You've been so down as of late."

"It will," she admitted. She knew the only thing that would make her the happiest would be to become a mother but that simply did not seem to be in her cards. She had to find a way to be happy without that, and to make Martin happy despite her failures. She had to be a good wife to him in every way that she could.

Martin sighed and laid a tender hand on her cheek before nodding. "It should be a wonderful evening."