Poor Cowboy Took Job Working For Ranch Woman—Not Knowing She Owned Half the State They Rode On
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Levi Boone had been drifting for three months when he saw the weathered help-wanted sign nailed to the general store post in Cedar Falls. His last dollar had bought him a cup of coffee and a stale biscuit, and his horse needed grain more than he needed pride.
The notice was simple: "Ranch hand needed. Hard work, fair pay. Silverthorn Ranch, twenty miles north." He'd worked cattle before, mended fence, broken horses that didn't want breaking. What he hadn't expected was riding up to find a woman in worn leather chaps directing the unloading of hay bales with the authority of someone born to command. Camille Ashford stood with her boots planted wide, hat pulled low, barking orders to men twice her size who jumped to obey.
When she offered him the job with a firm handshake and steady eyes, Levi figured he'd found himself a decent foreman who happened to wear skirts. But what happens when a drifting cowboy discovers the woman paying his wages owns more land than some entire counties?
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