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Authors: Charlene Sands

Tags: #Romance

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BOOK: Chase Wheeler's Woman
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“Oh, my, Letty Sue,” Sally said, taking her arm and leading her into the house. “My heart’s never going to be the same.”

Letty Sue rolled her eyes. Sally was forever falling for the wrong man. “Never mind your heart, Sally. Chase Wheeler can only do it damage.”

“I’d be willing to chance it, Letty Sue. Why, he’s the most appealing man that’s come to Sweet Springs since I can remember.”

“You know what’s more appealing to me, Sally? Your baking skills. I’m relying on you to show me which end of a fry pan is up.”

That evening, Sam Fowler sat next to Letty Sue on the porch swing, sipping coffee. Luminous bright stars filled the sky and the Texas night air was delightfully
warm. “You’re getting better at brewing this stuff, Letty Sue. Doesn’t have a bitter edge to it this time.” Sam glanced into his cup.

“Oh, Sam,” Letty Sue began, “I should let you believe that my culinary skills are improving, but the truth is, Sally brewed that coffee just before she left an hour ago. She tried her best to teach me how to bake a pecan pie, but my crust flopped.”

Sam chuckled, bringing out a dimple at each corner of his mouth. His boyish charm and friendly manner were like a soothing balm to her woes. Aside from Sally, Sam was her best friend, and he knew her just about as well as anybody ever could. “So, your crust flopped. How does that happen?”

“I don’t know exactly, Sam.” Letty Sue recalled carefully watching everything Sally did, while half listening to her instructions. How difficult could baking a pie be, after all? But while Sally’s flaky crust took on a fine golden color, hers resembled a hard-shelled armadillo. Sally said she’d overworked the dough—that making a crust was tricky and you had to have just the right touch.

“But when I was all through,” Letty Sue lamented, “my dress was a mess, my hair was dusted with flour, making me appear about as old as ancient Rowena Eldridge, and worst of all, my pie tasted like mush. Brittle crust, soft center.” She threw her hands up in despair. “I don’t think I was created for such things, Sam. I’m not good in the kitchen.”

Once again, Sam laughed lightly and set his coffee
mug down. He took her hands in his. “Letty Sue, I think you can do whatever you set your mind to do.”

She pursed her lips, still feeling a bit like a failure. “I have to learn, Sam. All the other girls know these things, and Mama just won’t take me seriously. She still thinks of me as a child.”

Sam’s brown eyes softened, going about as mushy as Letty Sue’s pecan pie filling. “Ah, Letty Sue. It’ll come to you. Just be patient.”

She smiled then, feeling a surge of newfound confidence. “You know I treasure your friendship, Sam. You’re my best friend here at the ranch. I’m so lonely with Mama gone. Thank goodness I have you.” She kissed his cheek.

He patted her hand. “It’s just hard being friends with such a lovely woman, Letty Sue. Kinda makes a man wonder ‘what if’.”

She shifted in her seat to look him square in the eyes. “One day soon, Sam, we’ll both find what we’re looking for.”

“I hope so, Letty Sue. Sure wouldn’t like to see you disappointed. Sometimes what we go hunting for is right before our eyes. Kinda jumps up at you faster than a rattler looking for his next meal. And to think your mama didn’t have to go far to find Jasper Brody. He came to her. He’s a fine man.”

“I suppose,” Letty Sue allowed, “but that was different. He was searching for his long-lost niece. When he found Lily here in Sweet Springs, he decided to stay on.”

“A lucky day for him. Your mama makes him mighty happy.”

“Mama is a wonderful woman. Don’t remind me or I’ll start missing her all over again.”

With their coffee finished, they sat in companionable silence, a soft spring breeze blowing by as the porch swing swayed gently. Letty Sue let her mind drift off to all the cities she planned to visit, all the new exciting things waiting for her.

“Evening, Sam, Letty Sue.” An all-too-familiar deep voice interrupted her pleasing thoughts.

“Evening, Chase,” Sam said, straightening a bit in the swing.

Letty Sue nodded.

“I came by to check on Letty Sue,” he said, focusing his attention on Sam.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m fine, as you can see. Visiting with my good friend Sam,” Letty Sue offered airily.

Chase leaned on the porch rail and said sternly, “It’s late, Letty Sue. Best you get inside.”

Anger jolted through her instantly. The audacity of the man, she thought heatedly, treating her no better than a disobedient child. She was bone-tired of being treated that way. Especially from him! She jumped up from the swing. “Don’t you dare issue me an order, Chase Wheeler. I won’t have it.”

Sam stood then and turned to her. “He’s right, Letty Sue. It’s a bit late and sun up will come mighty quick if I don’t hit the sack soon. Thanks for the coffee.”

“But Sam—”

“Good night.” He cast a quick, indulgent smile her way, then headed down the porch steps and past Chase, wishing him a pleasant evening as well. Oh, Letty Sue was ready to bash her frying pan over Chase Wheeler’s obstinate head! Or better yet, an armadillo pie to his face would do nicely!

“Lock the door behind you now.” He waited, his patient stance more irritating than the calm in his eyes, telling her he fully expected her to obey.

“You’re not my keeper, Chase,” she said, folding her arms across her middle. Chase’s gaze dropped to her chest, puffed out now in righteous indignation. There was a flicker of awareness in those smoky depths that gave Letty Sue a measure of satisfaction.

“Until Joellen returns, I’m afraid I am. Now get yourself inside.”

Letty Sue inhaled deeply, her eyes on his, locked in a stubborn battle. Finally, Letty Sue relented. She was tired, mostly of his commanding ways, so she entered the house, slamming the door behind her.

Anger roiled in the pit of her stomach. She put a hand there to stop the commotion. Being bullied by the ranch foreman, a virtual stranger, didn’t set well. It just wasn’t fair.

As she made her way to the parlor, she glanced into the kitchen, noting the mess from this afternoon. Flour speckled the floor, the counter and the chairs. The utensils she’d used today were still soaking in a tub of water, and there on the table, looking quite pitiful, sat her pecan pie of stone.

She groaned aloud. This evening couldn’t get much worse. Her stomach clenched once again and she knew she’d not get a wink of sleep tonight, not until she made some sort of truce with Chase Wheeler.

But in her heart of hearts, she knew she’d most likely have better luck making a pact with the devil himself.

The stallion was in a feisty mood tonight, Chase surmised, taking a brush briskly to Tornado’s coat. He murmured soft words, earning the animal’s trust once again. “No hoof pick for you this evening,” Chase offered soothingly to the chestnut stallion. “I wouldn’t enjoy taking a swift kick to the ribs. You’re a bit too jittery for my liking. Sort of like me tonight, right, big fella?”

By the time Tornado gleamed from his ministrations, Chase had worked up a sweat. He tossed off his shirt, letting the cool air hit his chest. He needed cooling down, he thought wryly, but not from the work he’d done currying the fine animal. Hell, Chase was always honest with himself.

He needed to cool off more from seeing Letty Sue tonight than from any brushing he’d done to Tornado. It had bothered him to catch her sitting so cozily on the porch swing with Sam Fowler earlier. More than he liked to admit.

The woman was completely female, with a body that practically begged for a man’s touch and a face so damn near perfection it muddled the mind. Chase didn’t like her; she was spoiled and selfish and completely
useless on the ranch. It’d be best to remember that.

He closed the gate to Tornado’s stall and hung up the grooming brushes on a peg inside the tack room. The musty barn smells of leather, earth and animals suddenly took on a pleasing hint of fragrant jasmine. Chase whirled around instantly and saw her.

Letty Sue stood in the doorway to the small tack room, wearing a lacy blue dress and a tentative smile.

The dress hugged every curve the woman possessed and matched the brilliant hue of her bright, sky-blue eyes. Her smile, though, was less than bright and her lips trembled. “Hello again, Chase.” Her voice held a note of trepidation.

“Letty Sue,” he said warily, attempting to figure out what plan the woman was devising. Women like Letty Sue always had a plan. He’d learned that hard lesson not long ago. Marabella had used him for her own gain, then tossed him aside once he’d served his purpose. He’d been a fool for hooking up with the boss’s relation to begin with, and actually believing he might have a future with the woman. He’d not make that mistake again.

No more tangling with beautiful, tempting, deceitful women. It was a vow he intended to keep.

“Can we talk?” Letty Sue asked.

“It’s late.”

“I don’t think I can sleep.”

His jaw clenched and he was about to refuse when she added, “It won’t take but a minute of your time.”

He gestured to a bench along the wall. “Come in.”
The small room was darker than most, since there were no windows to let in the moonlight. He brought a lantern over to hang above them. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” She sat down, adjusting the folds of her dress. Her eyes sparkled like blue diamonds as the lantern light caressed her face. And her scent, of fresh jasmine, filled the air.

Chase sat down, too. He still didn’t know what she was up to.

She gasped, glancing at his bare chest. The light hit his scars in such a way that made them stand out even more harshly. He’d forgotten how frightening they must look to a woman with delicate sensibilities.

“H-how did you get those?”

Her gaze traveled up to his and for the very first time since he’d known her, he saw undeniable compassion in her eyes. “In a Cheyenne ritual.”

Surprise registered on her face, immediately marking their inherent differences. “But—”

“As I said, Letty Sue, it’s late, so say what you came here to say.”

She concealed her anger, but Chase sensed it. “I don’t like you giving me orders. This is my ranch, not yours. And you don’t have to tuck me in every night.”

Chase hid his grin by rubbing the stubble on his face. “Tuck you in? Honey, if I tucked you in every night, you’d not be in here complaining.”

She blinked, then comprehended his meaning. “Oh! You know that’s not what I meant. You don’t have to make sure I’m locked in the house at night.”

“Interrupted something with Sam tonight, did I?”

“No, of course not. Sam’s my friend. It’s just that, well, I’m not a child, Chase. I can take care of myself.”

He didn’t think so, but wasn’t going to argue the point. “I promised your mother I’d watch out for you.”

“I know. Mama’s always been overprotective. Ever since father was murdered, and, uh, the other attack.”

“You were both very brave.” He braced his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, shaking his head. “That must have left you with some bad memories.”

She became thoughtful, tilting her head, heaving a heavy sigh. Her voice was soft, sweet. “I was very young. I don’t remember much. Mama was the brave one.”

“She’s a special woman.”

“I never thanked you properly.”

“No need, Letty Sue.” He straightened to look into her eyes. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

“You went against your own kind.”

“Dog Soldiers weren’t my kind. They were ruthless renegades out for revenge. Both white men and Indians have been brutal at times, but my Cheyenne mother always taught me that violence wasn’t the answer. She’d hoped for peace, had trusted in the Cheyenne and white leaders to come to terms. But that really never happened, did it?”

Letty Sue shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” he said adamantly. “There are Indians dying of starvation and disease on the reservations.”

“Oh Chase…your mother?”

“She didn’t suffer long. For that I’m grateful.”

“I’m sorry. If anything happened to Mama I don’t know what I’d do.”

“And she feels the same way. You’re her only daughter, her only child. I’m here to see to your safety.”

“Can’t we come to a truce of some kind?”

“A truce?”

“Yes. I’m tired of all the fighting. I want you to treat me like the woman I am, and not as a child.”

He took a leisurely tour of her body with his eyes, and thought of dozens of ways to treat her as a woman. But that was out of the question. Letty Sue Withers with the bright blue eyes and pretty face was completely off-limits.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” She sounded astonished.

“If you behave like a grown-up, then I’ll treat you that way. I won’t
tuck
you in at night, but I will check your doors. Just be sure to lock up carefully before you turn in. If you go into town or to a neighboring ranch, let someone know, if I’m not around. And no more
Albert
incidences.”

Letty Sue blushed, but held her head high. “That was not entirely my fault.”

“Humph.”

“Do we have a truce?” she asked quickly, obviously not intending to rehash the day they’d met.

“We have a truce.” He stood up and put a hand out to help her up.

“A truce,” she repeated, taking the hand offered and rising up to stand close to him. He released her hand slowly, their eyes meeting.

“Will you tell me about the scars now?” Her gaze fastened on his chest, softening as she looked at his wounds.

“They’re from the sun dance. It’s believed that performing the ritual will bring revitalization to the earth around us. The tribe builds a sun dance lodge with a tall pole in the center, topped with buffalo robes celebrating our most respected warriors. After the lodge is blessed and prayers are offered to the Great Spirit, the dance begins.”

Letty Sue reached out and touched a scar on the right side of his chest. Her delicate fingers slid over its length, her gaze focused on the place her fingers traveled. She said softly, “But that doesn’t explain these.”

Immediate heat shot through him and his body tightened. Her innocent touch created an unwelcome stirring in his blood, a potent flame he could only name as fierce desire. He should back away, tell her to leave, anything that would take her hand away. Yet he didn’t. Instead he endured the torture of having her caress him. “After four days, young Cheyenne men engage in a ceremony thought to arouse the pity of the spirits. Sharpened skewers are hooked under the skin on different parts of the body. It’s a display proving Cheyenne bravery and endurance.”

BOOK: Chase Wheeler's Woman
11.12Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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