She Was Being Sold for Wearing Pants, the Cowboy Said, “She Can Wear What She Wants With Me”

Chapter 6

The social arrived faster than she wanted and slower than she feared. Clara stood in her cabin that Saturday afternoon, staring at the contents of her wardrobe like they were an enemy army. Men’s shirts. Men’s trousers. One plain brown dress that had seen too many church pews. Nothing for a dance. Nothing that wouldn’t draw stares, and everything already would.

A knock came at her door.

She opened it to find Yun standing there with a large wrapped package, his round face creased in a friendly smile. “Mr. Caleb,” he said, “ask me to give you this. For tonight.”

Puzzled, Clara took the package. Inside, folded with care, lay the blue dress. The one from the wardrobe. And pinned to the bodice was a note in a bold, slashing hand:

This belonged to my sister Adeline. She would be honored if you would wear it tonight — or wear your trousers. Either way, the Flying R will be proud to have you represent us. — C.

Clara traced the embroidery with her fingertips, something tight and strange closing around her throat. That he would offer his dead sister’s dress, knowing what had happened to her, showing that level of trust and respect — it moved her in a way she couldn’t put into words.

When Caleb knocked that evening, she opened the door in the blue dress, her hair pinned in a simple but elegant arrangement, a single wildflower tucked behind one ear. His expression as he saw her made her heart skip.

“You look beautiful,” he said simply.

“Thank you for the dress. It means a great deal that you would share something of Adeline’s with me.”

“She would have liked you,” Caleb said with a soft smile. “Strong. Independent. Not afraid to challenge convention.”

He offered his arm. This time, Clara took it without hesitation.

The town hall had been transformed — lanterns strung from the rafters, tables laden with food, a small band tuning in the corner. People from every ranch and farm in the valley had turned out, and the room buzzed with voices and laughter. As they entered, Clara was aware of the curious glances, the whispers that followed in their wake. The woman in trousers from the Flying R, wearing a dress on Finn Morgan’s— on Caleb Rhodes’s arm. Then a woman was approaching, smile polished, eyes not quite reaching them.

“Miss Vance. I’m Mrs. Whitcomb, the minister’s wife. We’re so pleased you could join us.” Her gaze flicked between Clara and Caleb. “Mr. Rhodes, your ranch has certainly become the talk of the territory lately. First hiring a female bookkeeper, and now—” She let the implication hang.

“The Flying R has always valued competence over convention, ma’am,” Caleb replied smoothly. “Miss Vance has brought order to our accounts that we sorely needed.”

“How progressive of you.” Mrs. Whitcomb’s tone made the word sound like an insult. “Well. Enjoy the evening.”

As she walked away, Clara leaned in. “I believe we’ve just been judged and found wanting.”

Caleb’s eyes twinkled. “Her approval isn’t high on my list of concerns.” He gestured toward the dance floor, where couples were beginning to gather as the band struck up a waltz. “May I have this dance, Miss Vance?”

“You may, Mr. Rhodes.”

It had been years since she’d danced, but her body remembered. Caleb proved an excellent partner, guiding her confidently through the steps, his hand at her waist respectful but warm. She found herself relaxing into the motion, the music, the simple pleasure of being held properly.

“You dance well for a cowboy,” she teased.

“My mother insisted all her children learn. Said civilization might be scarce out here, but that was no excuse for barbarity on the dance floor.”

Clara laughed, drawing more curious glances. “She sounds wonderful.”

“She was. Strong-minded. Like you. Never let my father get away with anything.”

They danced several more numbers, then broke for refreshments. Neighboring ranchers came by to be introduced — some welcoming, others barely concealing their disapproval. Through it all, Caleb stayed at her side. Joey and the hands drifted past, proudly introducing her as “our Miss Vance” to their acquaintances. Even Hank unbent enough to ask her for a dance, proving surprisingly light on his feet for such a lanky man.

During a lively reel, Clara noticed a group of men near the entrance watching her with particular interest. One — a well-dressed gentleman with a carefully groomed mustache — seemed vaguely familiar. When the dance ended, he approached, just as Caleb stepped away to fetch her punch.

“Miss Vance, isn’t it?” The man’s smile did not reach his cold eyes. “I believe we’ve met before.”

Looking at him more closely, Clara felt a chill of recognition. “Sage Creek,” she said flatly. “You were at the auction.”

“Indeed I was.” He offered a slight bow. “Marcus Vane. I was quite disappointed when Mr. Rhodes outbid me that day. I had plans for a woman of your spirit.”

Her skin crawled at his tone. “How fortunate for me that your plans were thwarted.”

“Temporary setback only, my dear.” Vane stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I’ve been making inquiries about you. A woman traveling alone, using different names in different towns. Quite suspicious behavior.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But rumors can be damaging — especially to a woman in your unusual position.” His eyes traveled over her appreciatively. “I have a proposition that might benefit us both.”

Before he could continue, Caleb appeared at her side, his expression darkening as he took in the scene. “Is there a problem here?”

Vane’s smile widened. “Mr. Rhodes. I was just becoming reacquainted with Miss Vance. We met briefly in Sage Creek.”

“I remember,” Caleb said coldly. “You were the man who tried to buy a human being.”

“Business transaction only,” Vane said with a shrug. “No hard feelings on my part. In fact, I was just telling Miss Vance that I might have an opportunity for her. My establishments could use someone with bookkeeping skills.”

“Miss Vance is employed at the Flying R.”

“For now.” Vane’s gaze returned to Clara. “But opportunities change. Think about my offer, my dear. I’ll be in town for the next week.” He tipped his hat. “Evening, Mr. Rhodes. Miss Vance.”

As he walked away, Clara released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “That man makes my skin crawl.”

“What did he say to you?” Caleb asked, concern threading his voice.

“Nothing specific. Implied threats, a vague proposition. Nothing I haven’t heard before.” She attempted a smile.

Caleb’s jaw tightened. “Vane is dangerous. He owns saloons and gambling houses throughout the territory. There are rumors of other, less legal enterprises as well.”

“He seemed to know I’ve been traveling under different names. Made it sound suspicious.”

“Have you?” Caleb asked, surprise flickering across his face.

Clara nodded reluctantly. “Sometimes, for safety. A woman alone attracts attention, and not all of it welcome.” She met his gaze directly. “I’ve never done anything illegal, Caleb. Just protected myself as best I could.”

“I believe you.” He said it without hesitation. “But Vane doesn’t make idle threats.”

The music had started again, but neither of them moved toward the dance floor. The festive air of the evening had shattered. “Perhaps we should leave,” Clara suggested.

Caleb considered it, then shook his head. “No. That would only give weight to whatever he’s trying to imply. We’ll stay, enjoy ourselves, and leave with the others.” His expression softened. “Unless you’re truly uncomfortable.”

Clara straightened her shoulders. “I’ve faced worse than Marcus Vane. I won’t let him ruin our evening.”

Caleb smiled, offering his arm. “That’s the spirit. Now, I believe they’re playing a waltz — and I’m still owed at least one more dance.”

They rejoined the dancers, but through every step, every turn, Clara could feel Vane’s gaze on her from the sidelines. Something about his interest frightened her more than she wanted to admit. Even to herself.