Page 15 of Claimed by the Cowboy (Havenstone: Mail Order Brides #3)

Kitty

A month of marriage to Tom Sutton, and I've never been happier.

I wake up every morning in our cabin in his strong arms, breathe in the clean mountain air, and spend my days bringing Ruth’s herb garden back to life. For the first time in forever, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I feel whole. Alive.

Well… most of the time. A few weeks ago, I started experiencing a tightness in my chest that my inhaler couldn’t ease.

Then, last week, the headaches began—nothing terrible, just stubborn enough to linger.

I’ve been brushing it off as too much sun or not enough water while working in the garden.

The last thing I want is to be a burden ag ain.

Not now. Not when everything finally feels right.

“Morning, beautiful,” Tom murmurs against my neck, his voice rough with sleep. His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer to his warm body.

“Morning, husband.” I love the way saying that word makes him smile against my skin.

“What’s the plan for today?” His hand slides over my ribs, thumb tracing lazy circles that make me shiver with remembered pleasure from last night. “More garden restoration?”

“I want to finish the chamomile section.”

“How do you feel? You’ve been a little off-color the last few weeks.”

Trust my husband to notice what I’ve been trying to ignore. His sharp blue eyes miss nothing.

“I’m fine,” I say lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “City girl, remember?” I tease. “I’m still getting used to all this sun and fresh air.”

His brow furrows, and I feel the weight of his gaze on me. “As long as you’re not overdoing it.”

I roll to face him, pressing a kiss to his jaw to soften my deflection. “Don’t go all protective cowboy on me. I’m tougher than I look, remember?”

“That you are,” he says quietly, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “But if you feel worse, you tell me. No excuses.”

Something in his tone makes my throat tighten. He means it—he’d move heaven and earth if I so much as whispered the word help .

I smile faintly and rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Okay. If it gets worse, I’ll tell you.”

His arms tighten, anchoring me against him. “Good. Because I intend to keep you healthy enough to annoy me for the next fifty years.”

I pull back to look at him. “Only fifty? Lightweight.”

His chuckle rumbles through me as he presses a kiss to the sensitive spot behind my ear that makes me melt. “So, who have you roped into helping you today? Delaney? ”

I shake my head. “No, Luna. Delaney is working with Daniel today.”

“Your sister seems happy. She’s thriving.”

“She is,” I say with pride. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so… free. She’s not surviving anymore. She’s living. We both are.”

“She’s a good fit as ranch coordinator. She’s already whipped the books into shape. Everyone loves having her around. And she’s been hovering around Shay like a mother hen with her favorite chick.”

I smile at the image. “Oh, she has. Shay can’t stand up too fast without Delaney appearing at her elbow, ready to catch her. I think she’s memorized the prenatal handbook cover to cover.”

Tom chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Henry swears your sister knows more about trimester diets than their doctor does.”

I shake my head, fondness welling up in my chest. “That’s Delaney. She’s been protecting me my whole life. Now that I don’t need her watching me every second, she’s found someone else to fuss over.”

“Can’t believe Henry’s gonna be a father in a few months.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Jesus, I’ll be an uncle.”

“And I’ll be an Aunty.” I brighten at the thought. “Shay is glowing. I can’t wait to meet the baby.”

“Neither can Henry. He’s walking around like he invented fatherhood.” Tom chuckles. Then his eyes dip to mine, his expression softening. “Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

Heat prickles my cheeks. “About babies?”

He brushes his thumb across my lower lip. “Don’t panic, darlin’. I’m not in a rush. I want time with you. Time for us to figure each other out, to enjoy this.”

Relief and tenderness bloom in my chest. “That’s exactly what I want too. Although”—I bite my lip—“we could’ve already made a baby. We haven’t exactly been careful. Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling off?”

Tom frowns. “Isn’t it too early to be having symptoms?”

I shrug. “It’s unlikely. ”

“Make an appointment with the doctor,” he says firmly, no mistaking the seriousness in his eyes.

I nod slowly. “I will. But Tom… if I were, if it’s happened sooner than we expected?—”

“Then we’ll handle it. As long as we’re together, I don’t care if it’s now, a year from now, or ten years down the road.”

Emotion swells in my chest, and I blink fast against the sting in my eyes.“If I’m not, I should probably find out about birth control.”

Tom studies me. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do it. But if you don’t want to go that route”—he shrugs—“I’ll wrap it. You call the shots when it comes to your body.”

Emotion thickens my throat. “I’ll call the doctor’s office tomorrow.”

“Good.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Whatever keeps you happy, healthy, and still climbing me like a tree at night, I’m on board.”

I chuckle and snuggle closer. “I’d love lots of kids with you when we’re ready. This ranch needs children running around and learning to love this land.”

Something fierce rises in my chest as I imagine little cowboys and cowgirls with Tom’s blue eyes and dark hair.

“How many is lots?”

“At least three,” I say without hesitation. “Maybe four. This place is too big for one or two. I want them to grow up healthy, with strong lungs and rosy cheeks from mountain air. I want them to run and play without ever worrying about breathing.”

“They will,” he promises, bringing my hand to his lips. “Our children will have everything—health, love, this land, family who will always protect them.”

“And goats for playmates?” I tease.

Tom chuckles. “That too.”

I sigh happily, pressing my face to his shoulder. “Perfect.”

A thought stirs in me, one I’ve been too shy to say out loud, but now feels like the right time to share it. “And maybe I could… study something. ”

His eyebrows lift, curious. “Study?”

I nod, heart thumping. “Plants. Herbs. Everything Ruth grew. I’ve been reading her notes, and I…

I love it. I want to learn. Make something of it—soap, lotion, teas, even candles.

Goat’s milk and herbs, all natural. I can picture it: shelves of jars and bars, things that heal and comfort, things I made.

” I bite my lip, suddenly self-conscious. “Does that sound silly?”

Tom tips my chin up with one finger, his smile slow and certain. “Darlin’, that sounds like the best damn idea I’ve ever heard. You’d be brilliant at it. And you know I’ll be first in line to brag about my wife’s miracle soaps.”

“Miracle?” I laugh, the knot of nerves easing.

“Miracle,” he insists. “Though if you don’t brand one with Cheese Puff’s face, I’ll be disappointed.”

I giggle into his chest, picturing a goat-shaped bar of soap. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously proud of you, maybe.” He kisses the top of my head. “We’ll make it happen. You’ll have your garden, your goats, your soaps. Your dream. ”

Warmth floods me, brighter than the morning sun. The faint throb behind my eyes lingers, but not enough to dull the joy. Still, I press my forehead against Tom’s shoulder, hoping his steady heartbeat will chase it away.

He nuzzles my hair. “Now… how about breakfast before I keep you in this bed all day?”

I smile. “Breakfast sounds good.”

An hour later, I’m kneeling in the rich Montana soil with Luna as we transplant delicate chamomile seedlings, the morning sun warming our backs.

The herb garden sprawls before us in various stages of restoration—wild bergamot already thriving, rows of mint perfuming the breeze, and echinacea and red clover transplanted from the pastures standing tall, their blossoms like little flags of resilience.

Honoring Ruth’s memory by taking something she loved and bringing it back to life has become my passion. Tom says she would’ve adored seeing her garden bloom again, and somehow, that makes me feel closer to her.

I wish I could’ve met her—not just the ranch matriarch everyone talks about with reverence, but the woman who loved these plants enough to carve out a space for them in the middle of Montana cattle country.

I feel like I know her a little from reading her careful notes about the herb garden, and I sometimes imagine her here beside me, hands in the soil, teaching me what each leaf and petal meant to her.

“This is going to be stunning once it all fills in,” Luna says, tucking a stray blonde curl behind her ear as she pats down the soil around a seedling. “Angus promised the greenhouse would be ready by the fall. Between your herbs and my veggies, this ranch’ll be the best-fed corner of Montana.”

I grin at her enthusiasm. “You’re starting to sound like me—counting plants before they’re grown.”

“Better than counting cows,” she quips. “This garden is going to be magic,” she adds, brushing soil from her hands. “Ruth would be so proud of you. ”

I smile. “I hope so. Honestly, I’ve been thinking…

I want to do more than just grow them. I’ve been researching classes online—herbal studies, natural skincare, things like that.

What if I blended what I’m learning with the goats’ milk from the ranch?

Soaps, lotions, maybe even tinctures. Natural products made right here. ”

Luna’s eyes light up. “Kitty, that’s brilliant.

People would eat that up—well, not literally, unless you made cheese, too.

” She laughs, then leans closer, practically bouncing with excitement.

“We could do it together! You with herbs, me with greenhouse produce and flowers. We could make a whole line of ranch-made goods. Jams, teas, soaps, skincare. We could sell them at the farmer’s market in town or even online. ”

The idea takes root instantly, blooming in my imagination. “You think people would buy it?”

“Buy it?” Luna scoffs. “They’d line up down the road for it. I mean, Havenridge Ranch is practically a brand already, what with the vet program. And everyone loves the goats.”

I grin. “I told Tom about my idea this morning, and he suggested I use Cheese Puff’s face for advertising.”

Luna laughs so hard that she nearly spills her tray of seedlings.

“Oh, that’s genius! She’s already famous since the Clover Canyon Herald ran that article about me rescuing her from the barn fire.

And it would be hilarious.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“We can call it Klitty’s Chamomile Soap. Who wouldn’t want to buy a bar?”

I roll my eyes then laugh with her. “Knew I’d never live down that introduction.”

Warmth hums in my chest as we work in comfortable silence. I have the sun on my shoulders, soil under my fingernails, and a husband who shows me every day how much he adores me.

This happiness is new, fragile in its unfamiliarity, but I’ll be damned if I’ll anything spoil it.