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She blinked, drawing her gaze back to the rancher, who didn’t look any happier to see her. This man was nothing like the man in his letters, who’d written so fondly of the ranch and his family. Unease twisted in her belly, like when one of Pa’s plans went awry.

She put a hand on Ben’s small shoulder. “This is Ben. And this is Eli.” She raised her other hand to Eli’s shoulder.

Isaac’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t outright reject them.

His gaze traveled to the street, past the crowd on the boardwalk, and landed on the man in the Stetson, standing several yards away, still on the platform.

Stetson was talking with two other men who must be in their forties, wearing dusty trousers and vests over their shirts. Ranchers?

Isaac McGraw stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. She needed him to focus on her.

“Will we be going to the parson’s house first?” Clare pressed, trying for a soft smile. “Before we go to your ranch?”

Isaac’s eyes snapped back to her, distraction gone. “Miss—there’s been a mistake. I didn’t send for you, and we are not getting hitched.”

His words didn’t register at first. When they did, she felt that knot in her belly twist tighter. “What do you mean?” she asked. “A mistake?”

He didn’t answer directly. “It would be best if you got on that train and went back where you came from.”

Ben’s hand fisted in her skirt. Eli made a scoffing sound. She could feel the boys’ nerves ratcheting higher. Or maybe it was her own.

“That won’t be possible.” There. She’d kept the tremble from her voice.

But Isaac didn’t soften.

She was aware of curious gazes from people milling about the platform nearby. She couldn’t afford to give Isaac more time to argue. “I don’t understand. You sent for me so we could be married.”

“I didn’t send for you.”

He’d said that before, but it didn’t make any more sense this time. His voice was low and urgent and made her think he wanted her to be silent.

It only agitated her more. She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out the folded envelope. “I have your letter right here. You promised we’d marry!” Her voice pitched higher and louder than she intended.

Heads turned from the crowd on the platform, especially Mr. Stetson and his two companions.

Their gazes were like nettles on her skin.

She and the boys were too exposed out here in the open.

She stepped closer to Isaac McGraw. Close enough to see the tight lines around his mouth and hear his breath catch.

“Is there somewhere more private we could go to straighten out this misunderstanding?” she asked softly.

Ben chose that moment to yank at her sleeve. “I’m hungry.”

Isaac glared at her. “We are not going anywhere,” he ground out. “You’re getting back on that train.”

Her plan was unraveling before her eyes. Since she’d stepped foot off the train, nothing had gone right. Victor was behind her. There was no returning, not after what she’d done. She couldn’t give up. “You gave your word. We’re getting married.”

A shadow fell over her. “Is there a problem here, miss?”

She didn’t notice until she looked his way that it was sharp-eyed Mr. Stetson from the train.

She was close enough to see the subtle change in Isaac’s expression, the way his back bristled. He turned a stony face to the interloper. “No.”

The man ignored Isaac, his calculating eyes on Clare. He puffed out his chest and tipped his hat toward Clare. “Heath Quade, president of the Cattlemen’s Association and a citizen of this fine town. And you are?”

“None of your business, Quade,” Isaac growled.

Ben butted his head into Clare’s side, jolting her. She’d been so caught up in the tension between the two men that, for a moment, she’d lost track of both boys. Panic flared as she turned—until she spotted Eli, quietly watching Quade. Relief rushed through her.

“I thought you were getting married.” Ben chose the worst moment to pipe up.

Heath Quade’s shrewd eyes darted between Isaac and Clare. “That true?”

The muscle in Isaac’s jaw jumped, but he remained mute.

Quade turned a calculating glance toward Clare. “You one of those mail-order brides? The McGraws sure do like them.”

Clare didn’t know what he meant, but it was clear his words stirred up something in Isaac.

“This ain’t your concern.” Isaac stepped in front of Clare and the boys, partially blocking her from Quade’s view. She was surprised by the protective gesture after his earlier scowl.

Isaac’s head turned, and she realized the two other men had stepped over to flank their friend Quade. With her feet at the back of the platform, it felt a little like being trapped. Her gaze darted all around as she looked for an escape.

One of the men addressed her. “This man botherin’ you?”

She shook her head.

Apparently, the moment of distraction meant Quade had stepped to the side, around Isaac. He addressed Clare.

“I couldn’t help but overhear?—”

“Stay out of it, Quade.” There was something dangerous in Isaac’s tone. Couldn’t everyone hear it?

Quade didn’t. “As an upstanding citizen of Calvin and a duly elected official, it’s my duty to come to the aid of a lady who finds herself abandoned at the train station.”

Isaac blocked Quade when he tried to step closer, keeping his lean, muscular body between Quade and Clare and her nephews. Almost like he was shielding her.

Her chest tightened. Had anybody ever stepped between her and danger? She didn’t think so.

“Did I hear you say you had a letter? A written promise to marry could be considered a binding contract.”

Clare’s fingers gripped the letter tighter. She wanted to shove it back into her pocket. But that would be too obvious now.

Quade spoke to the man closest to him. “What do you think, gentlemen? It’d sure be a shame if one of Calvin’s first homesteading families got sued for breach of contract.”

Isaac’s shoulders tensed, and his stance grew more rigid.

The other rancher looked uncomfortable. “If McGraw can’t keep his word, the circuit judge can sort this out when he comes to town.”

Something passed between Quade and Isaac. She wished she could see Isaac’s face.

Quade said, “Maybe we should just walk over to the marshal’s office and see what Marshal O’Grady has to say about this.”

Eli, a statue throughout the whole exchange, began to shake. His fists were clenched at his sides, and he was standing on the balls of his feet, ready to run.

Clare gripped his sleeve. “That won’t be necessary,” she said quickly to Quade. “I’m sure Mr. McGraw and I can come to an equitable?—”

Isaac turned toward her. He motioned to the stairs off the platform. “The wagon is thataway. Get a move on.”

The command in his voice grated on her last nerve, but she also had a sense that this was the only offer he was going to make. And she needed to get off the platform, away from so many prying eyes. Eyes that could report back to Victor if he ever sent a scout looking for her here.

She grabbed Eli’s arm with one hand and Ben’s hand with the other and followed Isaac’s long-legged stride off the train platform.