Black Hills Bride (5 page)

Especially the fact that whenever he spoke, he always seemed to be right. That tendency bothered her most of all.

What an annoying habit.

Erik arrived back at the retreat center a little more than four hours later. A tall, barrel-chested man with salt-and-pepper hair that touched his shoulders and a long, matching untrimmed beard accompanied him. The big man’s frayed red flannel shirt strained at the seams of his shoulders. Even the strength of his stride was impressive.

Or was that oppressive?

Dixie took a mental step backward. The man looked like a bear, or at least what she thought a bear must look like, being that she’d never seen a live one except in a zoo.

She grimaced as she recalled last night’s ruckus with the raccoon and wondered if the huge tree trunk could sense her discomposure. She struggled in vain to fight her emotions.

Even if the grizzly of a man didn’t feel her confusion, she was certain Erik saw everything, even the faint flush to her cheeks. He didn’t show it, though. Not a muscle moved out of place on his face. Not even his eyes gave him away.

“Dixie, I’d like you to meet Ed McDonnell, your new construction foreman.”

The big man grinned and stuck out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

That Dixie caught her jaw before it hit the floor was a feat in itself; that she managed to shake Ed’s hand and murmur something intelligible proved that miracles really did happen.

The walking grizzly had the impeccable manners and speech of a Southern gentleman!

She slid a glance at Erik, who had at last cracked a grin. He appeared to be enjoying himself, and she wondered for the tiniest inkling of a moment if Erik hadn’t spent the entire morning looking for the most backward-looking man in the territory to bring to her. Just to shake her up a bit.

She wouldn’t doubt it for a moment.

He probably didn’t know about Ed’s polished manners before he brought him up here, she thought cuttingly. It kind of ruined the image, took the edge off, in her opinion. She wondered what Erik thought.

She pinched her mouth into a firm, straight line and met Erik’s gaze stare for stare. If he was trying to frighten her off, he was going to have to do a lot better than this.

She had God, and God was a great deal larger than Ed McDonnell. She thrust out her right hand and smiled up at the man.

“Glad to meet you, Mr. McDonnell. I’m sure you’ll be perfect for the job. A real asset to our staff.” She stopped speaking and shifted her gaze to Erik. “I have absolute faith in Erik’s judgment.”

Erik’s heart leapt around like a newborn calf when her gaze met his. Her sparkling blue eyes were full of laughter—and challenge—neither of which he could figure.

But then again, he’d never claimed to be an expert on women. He’d brought her the best carpenter in South Dakota, as far as he knew. How could she find fault with that?

Besides that, Ed McDonnell was a vocal Christian influence in Custer, attending church as often as the doors were opened. So what was the problem?

He sent Ed to survey the property, claiming they’d catch up with him in a minute. He might not know women, but he was relatively positive Dixie had a few words for him, and he might as well get it over with.

Impossible woman.

“I will not be intimidated, Mr. Wheeler,” she ground out sharply as soon as Ed was out of hearing range.

One thing he was learning about Dixie—she called him
Mr. Wheeler
when she was angry. Clearly, he’d done something to upset her, whatever that might be. He had no clue. But he sure as shootin’ had done something wrong.

At least in her mind he had.

“What?” he snapped back, feeling just as prickly as she looked.

“What did you do, spend all morning looking for the biggest man in the county?”

The biggest man…?

“What?” he asked again, rubbing a hand across his jaw. The woman made less than no sense. “The
biggest
man? I brought you the
best
man in the whole county. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Oh, right. I see. And you’re going to stand there and tell me size had nothing to do with your selection.”

She marched up to him, planted her clenched fists on her hips and thrust her chin in the air as their gazes met and locked.

At six-foot-even, Erik towered over Dixie. Goliath to the Biblical David, if he remembered his childhood stories from Sunday school.

She was a petite little thing, that’s for sure. But she sure did pack a punch.

And then it struck him right between the eyes. He knew what had her so riled up. She thought he’d picked Ed McDonnell to frighten her off.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

He pressed his lips together and tugged down on his cowboy hat. He’d never do anything so low, even if he did believe she didn’t belong here.

And for some reason, it really bothered him that she thought he was capable of such an act. He’d already decided he wanted her to stick around for a while. But just until he got his colt and filly, of course.

“I’m going to join Ed now,” he stated gruffly.

She placed a hand on his arm and he froze, inside and out. Even his lungs refused to work.

“Oh, no, you’re not. Not until you assure me Ed McDonnell can do the job. I’m not paying men to intimidate me.”

Erik pulled his arm away and glared down at her until the rim of his hat was touching her forehead. Blood pounded in his head, which felt like an entire continent of oil drummers playing their song.

“Listen up, and listen good,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Because I’m only going to say this once.”

She didn’t so much as blink, though her bottom lip quivered slightly, no doubt from anger.

He pulled in a deep, calming breath and continued, though what he really wanted to do was turn and walk away. Or maybe kiss some sense into her. She didn’t look like she’d been kissed much. And she should be.

He shook his head. Only the thought of that colt and filly stopped him from doing something irrational—or maybe that was rational. And then just barely.

“I wouldn’t hire someone who couldn’t do the job,” he said in a low monotone, struggling to keep his anger under wraps. “Not even for you.”

M
aybe she’d made a mistake, but he didn’t have to get so huffy about it.

Okay, so he’d been right. Again.

A mere week had proven to Dixie the big grizzly named Ed McDonnell was a teddy bear inside, and the month that followed only served to further justify Erik’s choice in a foreman. Not only that, but Ed had a faith to rock mountains, and praised the name of Jesus loud and clear every chance he got.

She liked him. She really did.

And, she had to admit, if only to herself, he was an excellent foreman. Under Erik’s direction, he’d hand-picked a friendly, hardworking crew of five, all Christians, who’d cleared the messy building area within the first week and had laid the foundation for the new buildings within a month.

She was impressed. Thank the Lord. God was obviously providing for her despite her many setbacks.

Sometimes she wondered if she was deluding herself. But not now.

The carpenters worked not only swiftly, but cheerfully, as well. Each of them had a smile and a pleasant greeting for her when she was around, sweeping off their variety of cowboy hats and calling her
Miz Sullivan,
to her delight.

Men in Denver had never treated her so well, not with half the respect or graciousness these rough-around-the-edges country gentlemen showed. And carpenters in Denver did
not
wear cowboy hats.

Over the course of the first couple of weeks, she’d shed her designer jeans for a pair of Wrangler jeans and tied her hair back in a ponytail. She could almost pass as one of the carpenters, as much dust and mud clung to her by the end of each day.

The most laughable part of it was the pair of boots Erik bought her. She’d been mortified to wear them at first, as unfashionable as they were. But once they were broken in, she couldn’t imagine wearing anything else. They molded perfectly to her feet like a second skin. Why hadn’t anyone ever told her how comfortable a pair of cowboy boots could be?

Maybe she should announce it to the world and start a new fashion trend. It would be the first time in a long time fashion was actually
comfortable.
She laughed at the thought. She’d changed so much in such a short time, and she didn’t regret any of it.

After that first night, sleeping out in a tent didn’t bother her as much, especially after Erik fixed the tent so it wasn’t liable to fall over should a faint breeze occur some evening.

It had taken a while, but she found she enjoyed living out of a tent, staying outside late, lying out in the dark with so many, many stars twinkling down on her, far more than she’d seen in Colorado with the city lights of Denver blotting them out.

She had her food supply in tough plastic containers—and she now knew not to eat in or near her tent lest animals catch wind of it and think
she
was dinner—and the faithful Border collie who appeared as if by magic every night. She didn’t know where the dog came from or where she went afterward, but every night like clockwork, the Border collie returned to guard over her.

She’d managed to cope.

No. Much more than cope.
Live.

She was thriving, healthy and flourishing on the inside and out, more than she could ever have imagined or hoped for.

She put her management skills to work, as well. The first day the carpentry crew arrived, she’d set out to work right beside them. She wasn’t going to be the type of manager who ruled the roost without getting her feathers dirty.

She wanted more than just a working crew. She wanted to create a family atmosphere, and most of all, a peaceful, Christian atmosphere.

And she could only do that by giving it everything she had. She helped out whenever possible, though much of the work was beyond her ability and expertise.

She hauled wood and water, held up poles and learned to sand wood, and cooked and served the men their evening meal.

Okay, so cooking over an open fire wasn’t exactly her forte, along with so many other skills she was only now beginning to discover. Flames were tricky things, and she’d burned the fare more than once, though no one had complained.

Erik had laughingly mentioned bringing in a cook to handle that aspect of the job, and soon.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted, though she knew he was only teasing. And it was a rare occasion when Erik said even that much, so she supposed she should be grateful.

The stable was the first building raised, and Erik soon had it filled with horses and a stable crew working under him, forging mountain trails for future visitors and training the gentle horses to trail ride nose to tail, regardless of the equestrian skill—or lack of—in their riders.

She’d been so busy with the plans and construction of the main lodge, she hadn’t had time to get down to the barn and greet her new staff. She was anxious to introduce herself and her goals, but quickly discovered the stable hands weren’t nearly as anxious to meet her.

“We don’t take orders from a
woman,
” growled the first stable hand she approached. He had greasy, straw-colored hair and an attitude, Dixie noted, as he crossed his arms over an adolescent-thin chest.

The other four boys followed the young man’s lead, crowding in around him and nodding vigorously.

“I beg your pardon?” Dixie blundered, stunned by his rudeness and the blatant animosity on the expressions of the stable hands. The group’s unofficial leader pronounced the word
woman
as if it were spoiled food.

“You heard me.” The young man spat on the ground by her feet, and it took every bit of her will not to react.

She rankled inside, prickling from head to toe, but other than making a conscious effort to pull herself to her full height, she didn’t allow her emotions to show.

She might be hurt and angry at their hostility toward her, but she’d die before she’d show it. She had been caught off guard, expecting the stable hands to show the same friendly attitude as the carpenters.

Mentally retreating a few steps, she looked the group over. Every one of them looked uncomfortable, and the leader downright hostile.

They were testing her, she realized, like a toddler tested his mother’s limits. She definitely wasn’t expecting a brash confrontation after experiencing the easy nature of the construction crew, and she struggled to adjust to this new curve thrown at her.

Maybe part of her training should have included working with a youth group, she thought, however belated the realization. She should have known most of her staff would be youngsters.

She knew if she backed down now, the fight would be over. She had to confront this hostility head-on, nip it in the bud so it didn’t grow and spread.

“Am I correct in assuming that when Mr. Wheeler hired you on, it was with the understanding that you work for
me?
” she asked bluntly.

“We answer to Wheeler,” the belligerent ring-leader retorted, drawling his words.

“You’ll answer to me,” she snapped back, unable to contain the sting of rejection a moment longer. She’d felt it too many times in the past to put up with it now, especially from a gaggle of adolescent boys.

She pinned each of them with a glare in turn, especially the straw-haired boy. “Them’s the rules, boys. If you don’t like it, feel free to walk. But if you’re going to quit, do it now. I don’t expect to hear about this again. Understood?”

She whirled in place, her form-fitting boots stirring a cloud of dust around her feet. She had to get out of there, and fast, before she flew off the handle and told the boys what she really thought of their adolescent behavior.

She sent up a frantic prayer for help to contain the fury pounding through her, the nearly overwhelming need to vocalize her opinion of their prehistoric, chauvinistic attitudes.

She wanted them to know they were pushing her personal buttons—and that she wasn’t about to put up with it.

What she really wanted was to fire the whole lot of them, right here and now.

The only thing keeping her from doing that very thing was the knowledge Erik handpicked each man for the stable, and their individual abilities with horses. Each of these men excelled in their skills. They must, if Erik chose them.

He must believe they’d be able to handle the guests of a
Christian
retreat, even if she disagreed at the moment. The least she could do was consult him first, before firing the whole lot of them and forcing Erik back to square one.

She might be making a lion’s share of mistakes, but Dixie Sullivan never made the same mistake twice.

She’d accused Erik of trying to run her off when he’d brought her the big grizzly of a carpentry foreman, but she knew better now. She wouldn’t throw the stable hands’ attitudes in his face.

In fact, she wasn’t certain she would mention the incident to him at all. Wasn’t she the one insisting he didn’t help her out of every jam? She’d have to figure out an answer to this dilemma on her own.

Erik had his reasons for what he did and the men he hired, though he rarely spoke about them, or about anything else, for that matter. He’d given her no reason to distrust him up to this point, and she believed he’d do what he thought best for her—for the retreat, she mentally amended.

For some reason, he’d hired these particular boys to run the stable, although at the moment, she couldn’t imagine why.

Their crude, repellent behavior worried her. If they were this rude to her, how could she ever hope they’d lead pleasant trail rides for her guests, those who came to relax and find God here? Didn’t they understand they were working for a
Christian
retreat center?

Evidently not. Or else they just didn’t care. She’d have to figure out what to do, and soon.

As she stomped away, she overheard the boys taking turns letting out a string of mockery. She froze, their scornful words ringing in her ears. She clenched her fists to keep from turning around and letting them have it with all the fury of a hurricane.

She’d have a talk with them, all right.

But not right now. Not here, on their turf, in their time. She was sharp enough to realize they had her at a disadvantage here, catching her off guard as they had.

She needed time to think. She had to be in control of the situation—and her emotions—if she was ever going to convince them to cooperate, and right now she knew she’d do little more than yell and throw insults back at them. Which would just prove their point—that she was an irrational, emotional female incapable of running this retreat.

And she needed time to pray about it.

Apprehension and uncertainty washed over her, emotions that had become more and more familiar to her as the days passed.

Maybe the stable hands were right. Maybe she couldn’t do it alone. Hadn’t Erik said the very same thing?

Frowning, she blew out a breath and continued walking toward the safety and privacy of her truck. Maybe the boys were just testing her. If that were so, she’d pass the test and win their trust.

If not, they’d be the ones to go, not her.

Wild animals weren’t going to scare her away from doing the Lord’s work here in South Dakota, and neither was a pack of feral stable hands.

Come what may, she was determined to make this retreat center a reality.

Erik stepped farther into the shadow of the stable as Dixie walked by. She looked ready to spontaneously combust, and with good reason.

He’d been standing in the shadows since the beginning of the confrontation, hearing and seeing everything that transpired between Dixie and the stable hands.

Admiration for Dixie’s courage raged with fury for the boys’ brutal treatment of her. He’d been genuinely surprised when she stood up to the ignorant, ill-mannered adolescents—and not only stood up to them, but talked them down to size.

Dixie Sullivan might be short of stature, but she was in no way short of spirit.

He wondered, and not for the first time since he’d met her, about the reserve she drew on, the mysterious way she found strength beyond her measure.

Naturally she attributed it to God.

God doing the real work here. God leading the way through every path, both rough and smooth. God infusing her with the strength and courage to continue, when any sane person would quit and go home.

But to Erik, her words were nothing more than a mouthful of gibberish, completely useless in the real world. Dixie used God as a crutch because she didn’t have enough confidence in her own ability. She didn’t see the many things she accomplished all on her own.

Did she think just
any
woman could wander off in the wilderness on her own with dreams as big as castles, and actually have any hope of making those dreams a reality?

Most people wouldn’t even dare to dream.

And where reality was concerned, Dixie herself was doing most of the work. God wasn’t giving her any breaks, either, as far as Erik was concerned.

If anything, He was pitching her one challenge after another. Nothing Dixie attempted came as easily as it could. Or should.

Not if God, this personal God full of love and mercy, this God who supposedly communed one-on-one with His subjects—
really
wanted to help. It sure wasn’t for lack of trying on Dixie’s part.

He didn’t understand Christians’ faith, though he respected them, since his mother had been one of the faithful. But she had died young. His father withdrew, leaving Erik and his brothers virtual orphans.

His father. The poster child of hypocrites. He’d never believed, but then, when he died, he left his ranch, the only thing he
hadn’t
neglected, to Erik’s mother’s church.

It was Erik’s birthright. He’d worked right along with his father. Everyone expected the ranch to be his one day.

Instead, he’d been left with nothing.

He pounded his fist into the corner post on the stable wall. God wasn’t there to help then. Why should He be here now?