Brides of the West (2 page)

“How far is it to your farm?” she asked.

“Five miles north, and it’s a
ranch
.”

“Is there a difference?”

He stole a look from the corner of his eye to
see if she was being mean, but her thin face held no malice and her
green eyes were bright with nothing but curiosity. “Farms are itty
bitty things with fields and crops and fences. A ranch is a big
open hunk of land with free range steers.”

“Steers? Is that what you grow?”

“It’s what we
raise
. Cattle for beef
on a hundred thousand acres.”

She looked completely unimpressed. “No cows
or horses?”

Why the hell did he give a cuss what this
scrawny scrap of a female thought of his ranch? “I got a cow for
milk and I got horses for work. I got some chickens, too. But I
raise cattle.”

“Oh.”

A silence filled with the sound of grinding
wheels and clopping hooves stretched out. It must be his turn to
ask a question. Cuss it, he hated small talk.

“Where are you from, Mrs. Dalton? Seems like
you ain’t from around these parts. You got one of those eastern
accents.”

“I’m from England. London.”

It figured. Even if she was a mite taller
than most women, she reminded him of a porcelain doll he’d seen in
a shop window. Pale and fine boned and delicate enough to break at
a touch. That white skin of hers would fry in ten minutes in the
sun. If he wasn’t mistaken, her nose was already pink and covered
in freckles. Worse yet, she didn’t have enough meat on her to
survive a cold day in winter. Tom Wilkins must have thought it was
a fine joke to send him a woman who needed tendin’, instead of one
who could take her share of the work. Damn his no-good hide to hell
and gone.

“Can you cook?” he asked.

“Yes.”

The little pause before she answered added
fuel to his rage. A liar and a city woman. No woman dressed like
her would know how to cook. Only the Calico Queens who worked in
the Dry Gulch Saloon wore the shiny silky stuff she had on. Gals
who spent their days lazing around when decent folks were at work
and spent their nights helpin’ cowpokes out of their hard earned
cash for a roll in the hay. He’d had his fill of that kind of
woman.

And like a softheaded fool he’d offered to
feed her and take care of her for the next four days...and three
nights. Three nights of a woman under his roof that he couldn’t lay
a finger on and he wouldn’t be able to see straight. He’d have to
join Uncle Raven and the boys in the bunkhouse.

Another stolen glance at her out of the
corner of his eye, showed little more than the tip of her nose
around the brim of her straw bonnet. He’d seen enough back there at
the crossroad. All skin and bone and enormous green eyes in an
angular face, she reminded him of a half-starved cat. She wouldn’t
last a week out here. She sure looked as if she wanted to scratch
his eyes out when he’d up and told her the truth. She’d thank him
later.

Jake hauled in a deep breath and let go a
long sigh. No doubt about it. The boys and Uncle Raven were sure
gonna be fit to be tied when he gave ‘em the bad news. Hell, he was
disappointed himself. He’d been so damned hopeful at the thought of
a helpmate to share his troubles and his toil, not to mention the
vision of a soft willin’ woman in his bed at the end of the day.
There was nothin’ soft about this one.

Nothin’ except a full soft mouth that begged
to kiss and be kissed.

Nor did she have the hard-eyed look of a
saloon girl. She reminded him more of a prickly pear, with spines
that got under a man’s skin. And a soft, honeyed center. Curse it
to hell. Had what happened to Bill taught him nothing?

Oh yeah. He’d sure like Tom Wilkins to eat
his knuckles next time he saw him in town, ‘cept it would add to
his troubles.

“Circle Q is just up ahead,” he said.

“Circle Q? That is a strange name for a
village.”

“It’s the name of my ranch. There ain’t no
villages here ‘bouts. The nearest neighbors are five miles down the
road.”

She turned to face him, eyes narrowed and as
suspicious as a cornered barn cat. “Are there really lots of snakes
out there?”

He cursed the urge to smooth her hackles and
gentle her sharp tongue and nodded.

She gestured to the range at large and then
pointed to the rifle he kept close at hand on his other side. “Is
that why you carry a gun?”

Jesus. City women didn’t know a thing about
country life. “I bring it for the rabbits mostly. They make good
eatin’.”

She grimaced. “In London we buy our rabbits
from the butcher.”

Why wasn’t he surprised? Perhaps if she
understood what he’d been looking for in a wife, she wouldn’t be
quite so mad about his rejection. “It’s the woman’s job to skin
‘em.”

“Are you planning to hunt now?”

“If I see game, I shoot it. But we’re here.”
He couldn’t help the ring of pride in his voice as they passed
between the posts with the board emblazoned with his brand swinging
overhead.

***

To Tess, adrift on an ocean of dry grass
interrupted by the odd flash of a green bush, the long, low
buildings seemed to float waves of heat. No trees softened their
hard outlines. No flowers offered a welcome. Not even any cows, or
steers as he called them. Just the three clapboard buildings. The
one with the chimney and the covered porch must be the house. A
large barn stood a short way off with a split-rail fence out back
and a smaller building at right angles, also with a chimney. A
henhouse? Or storage? Maybe a smokehouse? It didn’t really matter,
since she wasn’t staying, so she swallowed her questions.

As they drew closer, she caught sight of a
figure in the entrance to the barn. A squat bow-legged man who drew
back into the shadows the moment he caught her gaze.

“Who is that?”

His firm lips flattened into a straight line.
“One of the hands.”

She frowned. “Do you mean he works for
you?”

“Yes, ma’am. He won’t bother you none. Takes
his food with us. Sleeps in the bunkhouse.”

That must be the small building with the
chimney. They pulled up in front of the house. Tess glanced over at
the barn, but the man had completely disappeared. Mr. Redmond
jumped down and tied the horse to a hitching post in front of the
porch steps. He came around to help her down, his large hands
filled the hollow of her waist, his breath cooling her suddenly
fiery cheek. The space between them crackled like air tensed for a
storm. He set her well clear of his body as if he’d felt the
charge, too, and grabbed her bag.

“This way, ma’am.”

She followed him up the two steps and across
the wooden porch. He ushered her through a plain-boarded front door
into what must be the parlor. The brown armchairs needed covers, if
not replacing. The plank floor was clean, but pitted from boot
heels. The windows were bare of drapery and the only picture on the
wall had faded to an indeterminate blob. It had been a long time
since a woman had laid a finger on this room.

“The kitchen is through there,” Mr. Redmond
said, jerking his chin to the back of the house. “Your room is down
the hall.”

Tess headed down the short passage and pushed
open the door at the end. She halted, amazed. The window, floor to
ceiling and two feet wide, looked out across the barren landscape
to the horizon. “Oh, my.”

Mr. Redmond came up behind her. The view no
longer held her attention. Her skin shimmered with the heat of his
body at her back. His manly scent invaded each intake of her breath
while the sound of his breathing filled her ears.

“It’s the only bedroom I have.” He sounded
almost defensive.

“The view is...spectacular.” She glanced at
the double bed and the rail across one corner holding what were
obviously his shirts and pants. “Where will you sleep?”

“I’ll take the couch.” The words shot at her,
as if he feared she’d invite him to share.

She swallowed her chagrin and managed a swift
smile. “You are very kind to offer me such generous hospitality,
Mr. Redmond, when clearly I am a disappointment.”

“It’s the least I could do.” He twisted his
hat in his suntanned hands. “Ma’am?”

She tilted her head in question.

“Do you think you could call me Jake?
Everyone always called my daddy, Mr. Redmond, and I ain’t so
comfortable with it. Not as a general rule.”

The telltale hint of red in his cheeks
appeared again, barely noticeable in the dark bronze of his skin.
It made him seem less hard, less sure of himself, just a little
less perfect. She nodded. “Why not? After all we have to spend the
next couple of days together. I’d prefer to be called Tess than
ma’am, too. It sounds a bit like the Queen, don’t you think?”

“Yes, ma...Tess.” He grinned and tossed her
bag on the bed. It was the first time he’d smiled since she’d met
him. A thing of beauty, all flashing white teeth and crinkles at
the corners of sparkling eyes. He went from merely strikingly
handsome to unbelievably gorgeous. Her heart did a stupid little
jump.

Mercy, she had to stop reacting to him this
way. He’d made it perfectly plain he had no interest.

“I’ll fetch in a pail of water for you to
wash. There’s a jug and a bowl in the kitchen you can use. Me an’
the boys generally swill down at the pump out back. The outhouse is
behind the barn.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the personal
turn in the conversation.

He strode out of the room clearly glad to be
gone.

She removed her bonnet, stripped off her
cotton spencer and felt a little cooler. She dabbed at the sweat
marks on her best gown with her handkerchief. It was probably
ruined. She should have known better than to dress so fine in the
ramshackle place New York City had turned out to be. A bowl of cool
water sounded like heaven with dust of half of America coating
every inch of her skin. A bath would be better, but that didn’t
seem to be an option. She strolled down the passageway and peeked
into the kitchen.

A scrubbed pine table surrounded by four
ladder-back chairs sat in the center of the wooden floor. A
Dresden-blue painted dresser stood against one wall and a
surprisingly modern-looking cooking range against the other.
Through the window in the back door, she caught sight of her host.
Even at this distance, those long lean legs encased in black and
his strong forearm working the pump handle made her breathe a
fraction faster. “Don’t look,” she muttered. “You are a respectable
widow, not an impressionable girl.” She pulled out a chair, sat and
folded her hands in her lap.

An unexpected sadness washed over her, a
sense of loss. Pure girlish foolishness. Something she had long ago
put behind her. She had no reason to feel downcast. All in all, the
whole adventure had turned out very well indeed, and after such a
shaky start. Having spent most of the journey wondering how she
would explain to her bridegroom an urgent desire to visit San
Antonio immediately after she was married, she really ought to be
relieved.

Her stomach clenched. What if Albert had left
San Antonio for California as he’d hinted in his last letter? All
she held dear depended on him returning to England before Mother
ruined everything. Fate could not be so cruel. Could it?

Boots thumped on wood. Seconds later, Jake
flung open the back door and stomped in with the pail swinging from
one hand. He glanced at her neckline. Her skin seemed to heat as if
branded. While his face remained blank, his gaze skittered away
faster than water bounces off hot fat.

Tess willed herself not to sigh. She didn’t
have the kind of bosom that made men’s eyes light up any more than
she had the kind of face that made them look twice. It mattered not
one whit that this man found her lacking, even if her insides
jolted each time her gaze drifted his way, which it did with
unnerving frequency.

Jake poured the water into a bowl on the
table and fished out a jar of soap from the dresser.

“Nice cooking range,” Tess said to break the
awkward silence. “Is it new?”

He grimaced. “Ordered it special from out
East.”

For the bride he no longer wanted. Idiotic
and from nowhere, tears misted her vision. She blinked them away
before they could spill over. It was exhaustion, nothing else. She
gestured to the bowl. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He hesitated. “I hope
you’ll excuse me, but I’ve chores to do. Cattle and such to check.
Can you do for yourself until supper? Perhaps rest up awhile?”

“Of course. I’ll be fine.”

She thought with longing of the large bed in
the other room, imagined how he would look stretched out beside
her. Felt heat rise in her cheeks. “I’ll be fine,” she
repeated.

He looked unsure, but clattered out of the
kitchen all the same. The sound of the front door opening and
closing signaled his departure.

Unable to resist, Tess tiptoed into the
parlor and, careful to stay out of sight, peeped out the window. He
leaped up onto the gig with loose-limbed athletic grace. Seconds
later, the vehicle disappeared
into the
barn
. She sighed. The only man she’d ever met who made her
heart pound like a blacksmith’s hammer and he didn’t want her.

But he had asked if she could cook. Perhaps
that was one way she could pay for her lodging.

***

Jake urged Copper into a trot, the back of
his neck itchin’ like he was being watched. Sweat. It had to be
sweat. The dark shadows inside the barn offered respite from the
afternoon sun, its rich manure and fresh hay smells balm to his
black mood.

He unbuckled Copper’s traces, whistling
through his teeth, watching his hands do work they’d done a hundred
times before, trying to ignore the anger eating away at his gut
like acid, steeling himself for the questions.