Colorado Bride (13 page)

“I refuse to have a drunk work for me. I shall hire your Mr. Bemis.”

“He won’t come.”

“You don’t know that yet. I haven’t asked him, and even if I do say so myself, I can be rather persuasive.” Lucas gave Carrie a look that made her want to slap his face. It was as though he was taking inventory of her charms and found them wanting.

“Naturally I know nothing of your successes back East, but Jake is a very different breed. I doubt even your looks will have much effect on him.”

“Why so?” Katie demanded indignantly. “Don’t you think Mrs. Simpson is a fine-looking woman?”

“Katie, you shouldn’t—”

“I do indeed, Katie, and I’ve already told her so, but shell be coming up against a hard case in Jake. There isn’t a woman in the world that could talk Jake into working for her.”

“We’ll just see about that. I’ll go into Fort Malone first thing tomorrow morning. I need supplies anyway.”

“You’ll never get him.”

“You just watch.”

“Want to make a little wager?”

“I don’t gamble,” Carrie said rather stuffily.

“Neither do I, in the normal way, but just consider this a friendly wager between friends.”

Carrie raised her eyebrows at the word
friends,
but all she said was, “What do you want to bet?”

“How about a kiss?”

“She’ll not be doing such a thing as that,” Katie exclaimed, scandalized.

“Don’t you think that’s a little more than
friendly?”

“You scared?” Lucas asked teasingly.

“No, it’s just not in good taste.”

“Tasted good to me,” he said, and when Carrie blushed, he added, “You
are
afraid.”

“No I’m not.”

“Then it’s a bet?”

“Well …” Lucas looked at her with the grin that infuriated her. “Yes,” she said with sudden decision. “It’s a bet.”

“Merciful saints!” Katie exclaimed. “You can’t go around kissing people, ma’am, and you a new-turned widow,” she protested.

“Don’t worry,” Carrie assured her horrified friend. “I’d have hired Jake anyway, but this bet is all the encouragement I need to make sure he’ll be working for me by tomorrow afternoon.” Carrie looked triumphantly at Lucas, thinking she had gotten the last word, but he got up from the table, wished them a cheerful good afternoon, and walked away whistling. That’s when Carrie knew she’d been had.

Chapter 7

“You can’t drive to Fort Malone by yourself,” Lucas decreed when he found Carrie harnessing a horse to the wagon next morning.

“Of course I can,” she replied testily. “Surely you don’t expect me to ride on the stage. I could just see the passengers waiting patiently while my order was filled. And of course they wouldn’t mind sharing their seats with sacks of flour, sugar, coffee, and I don’t know what else.”

The sarcasm in her voice didn’t improve Lucas’s temper, and he answered more sharply than he’d intended. “I’ll ride with you.” He hadn’t meant it to sound like a command, but Carrie had gotten under his skin so badly he couldn’t always control his voice when he talked to her.

“No you will not,” she stated emphatically. “I don’t need you to order supplies, and if I let you go with me to see Mr. Bemis, you’ll end up saying the only reason I was able to hire him was because of you.”

“Well …”

“Well nothing. I can manage this trip without your assistance. And I can hire Jake Bemis without it as well.”

“You’re determined to throw everything I try to do for you back in my face, aren’t you?” Lucas said, feeling his anger rise. He had never taken such an interest in any woman, certainly none had ever taken up so much of his thoughts, and her repeated response had been an effort to prove she had no need of him whatsoever.

“I apologize if that’s the way it seems, but every time
I
turn around, you and every other man who so much as opens his mouth around here feels free to tell me what I can and can’t do. First, I couldn’t do anything until my husband arrived"—she blushed, remembering that lie—"and now I can’t do anything without you. I appreciate your help, I really do, but I can’t have you standing over me the rest of my life just in case I decide to do something on my own.”

“You overrate your charms, Mrs. Simpson. I have no intention of standing over you for the
rest of my life,”
a furious Lucas snapped. “I might not even be here by the end of the week.” Carrie blushed crimson, anger battling mortification to deepen the color.

“I didn’t mean it literally. It’s just an expression. I have no desire to have you around for the rest of my life,” she responded, recovering somewhat. “I never had a nursemaid before, and I certainly can’t see me accepting one now.”

“Carrie,
ma’am,
you are a very pretty woman, in fact you’re just about the prettiest female I’ve ever set eyes on, but you’ll catch cold if you think every man will fall over his feet to make himself agreeable to you. I’d swear off women forever before I tied myself up like that for the rest of my life.” Haughty little filly. Well, he’d show her.

“Mr. Barrow, I have no desire to have you, or anyone else, tie themselves up to me for the rest of my life,” Carrie said, determined not to lose her temper again. “This whole conversation has strayed into the realm of the utterly ridiculous, and I suggest we talk of something else before we say things we may find it difficult to forget.”

Lucas swallowed hard. He was not used to being called down by a woman; even worse, he was not used to being in the wrong. He had let his concern for her get out of hand; he had allowed her refusal to accept his help to make him angry rather than admiring of her pluck. When, after that, she had made the comment about him being with her for the rest of his life, he panicked and said things he didn’t mean.

Boy, it was easy to tell he was no hand with the ladies. An Eastern woman like her, especially one as pretty as she was, probably had all the local beaux after her, flattering her, saying pretty things, and making her feel like the most wonderful thing God ever created. Well he
did
think she was the most wonderful thing God ever created, even better than his horses or his stage line, but he couldn’t tell her that. He would sound like a born fool talking to a woman that way. He’d probably sound like one anyway because he had no experience in saying pretty things. You didn’t need many words with the kind of women he was used to. They didn’t expect much talk. They didn’t have time for it. A tremendous feeling of frustration welled up inside him. How in the world did you go about sweet-talking a woman when she seemed bent and determined on taking the starch out of you?

“Do whatever you please, ma’am,” Lucas said, and walked off.

Carrie wanted to say something, anything that would bring him back, but she didn’t know how to explain why she had to establish her independence without making him think she didn’t want his attention, why she couldn’t accept his help unless she absolutely had to, so she turned back to the wagon. It would be better if she got on the road. She had a long trip and a lot to do. It was going to take her the better part of the day as it was, and she couldn’t afford to spend her time worrying about Lucas Barrow. He had been taking care of himself for many years, and he would probably continue to do so without her help.

But Carrie’s wagon had barely disappeared around the first bend in the road when Katie saw Lucas come riding by from the direction of his cabin. She grinned. She had known all along he was going to see Mrs. Simpson safely to Fort Malone and back. She laughed ruefully to herself. It would never occur to him that he was leaving her here all alone with two stages and goodness knew who else coming in during the day. He had to keep Mrs. Simpson in his sights or he wouldn’t be worth shooting. Katie smiled again. That’s the way it ought to be. She already knew Carrie and Lucas were going to fall in love. It was only a question of time before they figured it out for themselves.

Carrie was mad. She had been in town for over four hours and she still hadn’t received an answer to her request for an interview with Jake Bemis. She had ordered all the supplies she would need for weeks to come and had made arrangements for everything she couldn’t carry in her wagon to be delivered the next day. She had introduced herself to me mayor, the sheriff, and had a visit from the town’s ruling matron, and still not one word had come from Bemis. She had finally sent a second message, and she was now marking time in the general store, trying to ignore the curious and admiring looks of its proprietor and the various customers who came in from time to time, while she waited with increasing impatience for a reply.

Finally the last customer paid for his purchase and departed, and Henry Meade, the store owner, was unoccupied. Carrie decided it might be worth her while to see if she could gather a little information about Jake. It looked as though getting him to take her job was going to be more difficult than she planned. He was obviously not interested enough to come see her.

“Could you tell me something about a Mr. Jake Bemis?” Carrie asked, approaching the counter. Carrie was aware of the power of a good-looking woman and she was prepared to use every wile she had to get information out of Mr. Meade.

“Why do you want to know?” Meade asked unhelpfully.

“I need a new stock tender at the station, and he was recommended to me, rather highly as a matter of fact.”

“There’s nobody around here that’s better with horses than Jake when he wants to be.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Jake doesn’t work unless he wants to. He gets a little money from an aunt or somebody back East. It’s not much, I’m told, but it’s enough to keep him out of the cold. Only reason he works is he sometimes gets drunk and then he gambles away his money, or gives it away, and he has to take a job until his next check arrives.”

“Then you don’t think he’s likely to consider my offer?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t.”

“Would you tell me why?”

“I don’t rightly know that I should.”

“Look, I’m in urgent need of a stock tender, and I’ve been told Mr. Bemis is the best. You tell me he doesn’t have a job, but you don’t think he will take mine. I would like to try and convince him, but I need to know why you don’t think he’ll take my job.”

“Because he just got his check, and he hasn’t had time to spend it yet. But that ain’t why he wouldn’t take your job even if he was broke, which he ain’t.”

“What could be his objection? The job pays well.”

“It ain’t the job. It’s you.” These Westerners are nothing if not direct, thought Carrie, trying hard not to show her frustration.

“But he can’t object to me. He doesn’t even know me.”

“Doesn’t have to. Hell know by your name you’re a woman, and Jake Bemis is dead set against women. He won’t work for them either.” So Lucas wasn’t just trying to make her mad when he said that Bemis wouldn’t work for her. Still, she was certain he had egged her on to make her mad enough to try, and that irritated her as well. She was tired of him trying to take care of her, even when he did it without telling her.

Just then the lad Mr. Meade had sent to deliver the second message to Jake returned.

“Were you able to find him?” Meade asked.

“Sure,” the boy replied.

“Well, what did he say?” his employer asked. “This lady can’t be waiting all day for his answer.”

“He said there weren’t no use in his coming to meet you at the general store or anywhere else. He weren’t working for no woman, and that was the end of it.”

“See, didn’t I tell you?” Mr. Meade announced, clearly pleased to have been proved correct. Carrie got the feeling he was in secret agreement with Jake.

“Was he very disagreeable about it?” Carrie asked, determined not to give up.

“No, not so’s you’d notice. But he did say he had got your first message, and there was no use in you sending any more. He wasn’t interested in no woman’s job, and he wasn’t wasting his time talking to people about a job he wasn’t going to take.”

Sudden anger consumed Carrie. She was damned tired of being treated like a two-headed monster, and a helpless one at that. This drunken woman-hater might never take her job, but he was going to know he was dealing with something other than a shrinking violet.

“Where is Mr. Bemis now?” Carrie asked the boy, her anger under tight control.

“He’s over at the bathhouse getting all cleaned up. He’s going to the saloon tonight.”

“And where is this bathhouse?” Carrie asked sweetly, her smile blinding the boy and Mr. Meade to the glitter in her eyes.

“It ain’t no bathhouse for ladies,” the boy hastened to inform her.

“I don’t want to know for myself,” Carrie assured him. “I just want to know so I can recommend it to my workers when they come into town.”

“Okay,? said the boy. “It’s back of the hotel, but it’s nothing but a cow shed. Old man Tyler put in some wooden tubs and runs hot water out of a great big copper pot. He keeps a fire going under that pot pretty near all the time, and the water will take the skin off you if you’re not careful.”

“Thank you,” Carrie said, “and here’s something for your trouble.” The boy was too young to be particularly impressed by Carrie’s looks, but he could certainly appreciate the value of the coin in his hand. Carrie grew considerably in his estimation, and he made a mental note to be around the next time she came to town in case she should want him to run some more errands.