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You certainly dress provocatively enough. So why would you agree to sign a document forbidding you to marry?”
    Molly had no trouble answering that question. “A woman caring for a crippled brother has no chance of landing a husband. The moment a man finds out about Donny, he runs the other way.”
    “I see.” Miss Walker glanced at Donny before turning her gaze back to Molly. “And I assume you know this for a fact?”
    “Yes, ma’am. I’ve had twenty-two marriage proposals in all. Soon as I told them about Donny, every last man took off like a mule with his tail on fire. Didn’t matter if they were young or old, none of them wanted the added responsibility.”
    Miss Walker pursed her lips and thought for a moment. “Your loyalty to your brother is commendable.”
    “I’ll be equally loyal to you and the ranch. All I ask is that you give me a chance.”
    Miss Walker scrutinized her. “How do you propose to take care of your brother and keep up your duties?”
    “Donny only needs help getting in and out of bed. He’s quite capable of taking care of himself throughout the day.” That wasn’t true—God forgive her—but she didn’t dare reveal the full extent of Donny’s needed care. At least not yet.
    Donny nodded in agreement and Molly felt a tug of her heartstrings. Though he was very much against coming to the ranch, no one would ever guess it by his beseeching expression.
    Miss Walker studied Donny for a moment and brushed a wayward strand of hair away from her face. “I’ll probably regret this, but I’ll let you stay.”
    “Thank you, I—”
    “I don’t want thanks—I want blood and sweat.” The ranch owner’s gaze slid the length of Molly like a dressmaker measuring for clothes. “I generally give candidates a set time period to prove themselves. I’ll give you till mid-September to show me you’re as capable of learning the ranching business as you are at protecting your virtue.”
    One of the men laughed but Miss Walker ignored him. “If by some . . . miracle . . . you succeed, we’ll discuss the terms of our agreement. Until that time you’ll be paid less than the normal salary to make up for your brother’s room and board.”
    The wheelchair landed on the ground with a thud and both men brushed their hands together. Stretch grabbed the valise and set it next to the chair.
    Miss Walker hadn’t seemed to notice the wheelchair rising up and down like a barometer in changing weather. “I feel it fair to warn you that only one previous candidate lasted for more than a week. Most barely made it through the first couple of days.”
    Molly refused to be discouraged. She knew nothing about cattle, but life on a ranch couldn’t be any harder than living in a mining town.
    Miss Walker’s gaze settled on Molly’s velvet slippers, now covered in dust. “Do you have anything remotely similar to ranch attire?”
    Molly glanced down at her gown. It was the most fashionable one she owned, but next to the ranch owner’s practical garb it looked downright dowdy. “I’m afraid most of my clothes were lost in the fire.”
    “I’ll see what I can rustle up. Meanwhile, your room is waiting. I’ll have my housekeeper prepare a room for your brother.” She glanced at Stretch. “See that the horse and wagon are returned to the livery stable.” With that Miss Walker strode toward the ranch house, her jingling spurs sounding like a death knell.

    Molly waited for the two ranch hands to lift Donny into his wheelchair. The man named Stretch pushed the wheelchair through the courtyard and he and Feedbag hauled it onto the shaded verandah and into the house. A young Mexican woman greeted them, eyeing Molly up and down.
    “My name is Molly.” She pronounced each word precisely. She guessed the housekeeper was somewhere in her teens.
    “Rosita,” the woman replied, pointing to herself.
    Relieved that the woman seemed to understand English, a dozen questions leaped to mind, but they could wait