Love on the Range: A Looking Glass Lake Prequel (10 page)

“You ain’t got nothin’ to prove.” Fern squinted at her from under the brim of her tan cowboy hat. “You’re pretty enough to just sit around if you want, and you’d still get that man’s attention.”

Marlee snorted. Calamity shied to the right at the sound, and Marlee dug her fists into the cantankerous mare’s mane. She wanted to kick the horse for smarting off like that, but that could make Calamity burst into a gallop.

“I don’t want his attention,” Marlee corrected. “I’m simply trying to be a good trail cook and help the Paycoach family in their time of need.”

“Then impress him with your food,” Fern said. “You’re just like my Meg.”

Marlee sighed. She didn’t need to hear more about Meg’s woes over finding a good man. She’d heard enough of that yesterday.

But even if she wasn’t distracted by Calamity’s meanderings, Marlee still would not have been able to stop Fern’s chatter.

“Meg is too afraid to use her feminine charms to lasso herself a man,” Fern said.

Marlee grunted as Calamity trotted around a stand of trees. Uphill. Away from Fern. That was the first time the horse seemed to read Marlee’s mind. Time to get away from talk about getting matched with the grumpy cowboy.

But Calamity was only interested in checking out a bush, and she headed right back to Fern’s side. Fern waited patiently.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wanting a man,” Fern said. “It’s how the good Lord made us.”

Marlee laughed. “What scripture says that?”

Fern rolled her eyes. “It’s in the very first book,” she said. “Don’t you read your Bible? Says as soon as God was done makin’ Adam, He said, ‘It’s not good for man to be alone.’”

There wasn’t much Marlee could say to that.

“It’s the first thing God said that wasn’t good. And I reckon He knows.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When Marlee and Fern came to the creek Jett had told them about, they turned and headed up the mountain.

“You know,” Fern said as they rode. “I think you already got Jett’s attention. Why else would he have you workin’ so close to him?”

Marlee grunted. She’d never grunted so many times in her life. Maybe Jett’s ways were rubbing off on her. But conversation with Fern didn’t exactly leave her many other options. And besides, Jett was nowhere in sight.

Not what Marlee would call working close together.

Jett had said there was a meadow up here where the cattle sometimes liked to hang out and graze. Cold weather should have driven them to lower pastures by now, but he’d said it would be good to check it out anyway.

And he’d promised he’d be heading back their direction with a few cattle he’d spied over the ridge. If Fern and Marlee found any livestock, Jett would help them drive the cattle to the next campsite where a corral was set up. All Fern and Marlee needed to do was flush them out of the brush and into the meadow before he got there.

It didn’t sound too hard.

But then again, the idea of being a line cook at a ranch hadn’t sounded too hard, either.

“Yup,” Fern was saying. “He wants you close by.”

“Maybe because he expected I’d need rescuing,” Marlee muttered. Just like everyone else in her family. Being the youngest meant being rescued, even if she didn’t need it.

Fern pulled her horse to a dead stop, her mouth halfway open. “A rescue,” she said. “That’s not a bad idea.”

But Calamity was in no mood to stop for conversation. She pushed past Fern, blowing through her nose.

By the time they got to the meadow, Marlee was ready to set up her tent right there in the middle of the wildflowers and crash for the night.

But it was only four o’clock in the afternoon. And even though the shadows were already starting to lengthen, and a fall sunset was on its way, there was no way she wanted her boss catching her in a catnap.

“You go to that side of the meadow, and I’ll take this side,” Fern said. She flicked at her horse with her heels, and the bay took off, straight for the trees. For an old woman, she sure looked good in the saddle.

Marlee sighed and tightened her grip on the saddle horn.

“All right, Calamity,” she whispered. “Let’s go find a cow.”

But she squeezed her eyes shut and said a quick prayer that she wouldn’t find one. She had no idea what she would do with it if she found a cow. If she couldn’t get the horse she was riding to follow directions, how in the world was she going to get a cow to obey?

Marlee gave a tug to the reins, trying to guide Calamity toward the trees.

Calamity snorted and jerked her head in the opposite direction, and started backing up instead of turning.

So Marlee tried the other side. Again, Calamity tossed her head and this time, she neighed and reared up slightly before dancing backwards again.

“You mangy fleabag,” Marlee screeched as she clung to the saddle horn.

“You’ve got to take control,” a man’s voice called out from the trees.

Marlee leaned forward in the saddle and squinted.

Jett sat on a tall roan horse, grinning as he headed her way. He was relaxed in the saddle.

Take control? What did he think she was trying to do? Take a nap?

Jett’s horse came up next to Calamity, and Jett sat back in the saddle, eyes shadowed by his hat. “Sit up straight. Bouncing all around in the saddle just confuses her.”

Marlee straightened then. Not because he’d told her to, but because his attitude frayed her nerves.

“You expect her to listen, but when you’re all over the place in the saddle, she has no idea where you really want her to go,” he added.

How in the world did he know she’d been bouncing around in the saddle?

“Hold the reins firm, but not tight.” He demonstrated with his horse. “You gotta have soft hands and give her some room in the head. You don’t want to constrict her so much. How would you like it if somebody kept pulling back on your head all the time?”

Marlee looked down at Calamity. Sure enough, the mare’s neck was arched because Marlee had choked up on the reins.

“Yank her in like that, and she’s not going to trust you at all,” Jett continued, his voice softer. “Would you trust someone who didn’t give you any breathing room?”

Marlee loosened her grip, and let the reins out. Calamity tossed her head, and immediately relaxed, standing calmly.

Jett grinned. “I see you ride with your knives, too.” He gestured toward the knife roll slung across her torso.

Marlee’s blood simmered, sharpening the aches in her body. These knives were too expensive to just leave laying around at camp. She needed them close at all times. They weren’t like those cheap knives she and her cousins used to throw into the homemade dart board on the farm.

“I see you ride with your attitude,” she huffed.

He threw his head back and laughed.

Just then, Fern broke through the trees ahead, two heifers scampering in front of her.

“Hiyah!” Jett leaned forward and his roan sprang into action, heading the cattle off before they could dive back into the tree line.

He eased them back toward Fern and Marlee.

“That one rascal about got the jump on me,” Fern said, breathing hard. “I thought I’d lost him for sure, but then he spooked at a stump, and I closed in on him.” She grinned, took off her hat and swiped at her brow with her arm.

Jett grinned. “Feels good to get back in the saddle, I reckon,” he said.

“It’s been too long,” Fern said.

“Yup,” he nodded and paused a minute. “But let’s bring ‘em in easy,” he said. His eyes flicked to the cattle, restraint etched in the lines around his mouth.

Crazy Hoss had said stressed cattle got skinny and lost the ranch money. She hadn’t expected this much tact and patience from a hard man like Jett, especially when it came to losing the ranch money. But here he was, toning down Fern’s boisterous behavior with a gentle touch.

“No sense in stressing them any more than we have to.” He shifted in the saddle and his big roan circled behind the cattle. “You ride point. Marlee and I will ride drag.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Fern slapped her hat back on. She clicked at her horse and loped down the trail, leading the way for the cattle to follow.

As they headed down the trail, Marlee saw a cloud of dust on the road up ahead. That must be Crazy Hoss driving the chuck wagon.

“A few more hours until we get to camp,” Jett said. “You’ll be glad to get out of the saddle.”

Marlee ground her teeth to keep her anger from boiling over. How dare he tell her how she felt. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she could be peeled out of the saddle at all. Pain fused her to Calamity’s broad back and her mouth had hardened into a permanent grimace of torture. But she was too tired to do anything but glare at him.

As they neared the road, Fern slowed and whistled for Crazy Hoss to stop the wagon.

Marlee could see the two of them talking but couldn’t quite make out their words.

“I’m too old for this,” Fern said when Marlee and Jett caught up with them. She rubbed her lower back and screwed up her face.

“Said she’s got somethin’ happenin’ with her sciatica,” Crazy Hoss said.

“I might have to ride back to camp in the wagon with Crazy Hoss.” Fern slid off her horse and tied it to the back of the chuck wagon.

Marlee stared. In a million years, she’d never describe that rickety old rump-busting chuck wagon as more comfortable than a saddle.

Jett narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin. “Sciatica, huh?”

Marlee took another good look at Fern as she hoisted herself up on the wagon bench. The woman didn’t wince once as she vaulted onto the seat.

Crazy Hoss shook his head. “I had a sciatica once,” he started.

Fern shushed him. “It’s an old folk’s thing.” She waved her hand at Jett. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You didn’t look so old when you came bustin’ out of the bush a minute ago,” Jett said.

“Sciatica’s a funny thing.” Crazy Hoss smiled lazily. “Comes and goes.”

“Yup.” Fern grinned. “Never can tell when it will hit ya. One minute, you’re roundin’ up cattle, and the next minute, bam!” She slapped her hands together, and Calamity shimmied under Marlee.

“Looks like you two will have to get them cows to camp alone.” Crazy Hoss chuckled and tipped his hat. “See you back at camp.”

* * *

Perfect. He was down another cowhand in Fern, and Marlee’s boasts of being able to ride were clearly not founded.

Unless by “ride,” she’d meant clinging for dear life onto the back of the best cow horse in the Bitterroot Range as if it would throw her unexpectedly.

Calamity was Jett’s horse. They’d spent so many hours working cattle together, the mare could practically do the job on her own, without a rider.

That’s why he’d let Marlee ride her today, and he rode Fat Cat, Logan Paycoach’s big roan.

But Marlee wasn’t exactly what Jett would consider a rider. Not that he expected much from a city girl. Still, he was in desperate need of more cowhands.

He snuck a glance at Marlee, and admired the story playing out in the tight set of her lips. The woman was clearly in pain, but she wasn’t complaining. In fact, she’d improved her posture significantly since he’d given her pointers earlier.

But this harsh terrain didn’t give any points out for effort. And he couldn’t afford to, either. He’d be okay with taking her out on a trail ride for the fun of it. But this wasn’t a leisurely trail ride.

This was wild country.

Normally, the entire Paycoach family went on the cattle drive. Without them, the ranch had less than half their usual manpower. Plus, the ranch was late in getting started in the drive. Late and down cowhands. Bad combo.

And even if they weren’t short on help, there were the bears. With the early cold sweeping in, bears were getting crankier and more desperate about getting their bellies full before hibernating for the winter.

To top it all off, just today he’d come across more evidence of rustlers in the area…a ring, the ash still warm from a fire that morning. In the dust around the fire pit he’d found the unmistakable marks of running irons. Only rustlers used those.

Somebody had been up there near the meadow, and they’d been careful to put out their fire before dawn. Whoever it was didn’t want to be seen.

All afternoon, he’d chased the question around. What to do about those rustlers? What would Silas do if he were still here?

“What are you thinking?”

Marlee’s voice cut through his contemplation, and Jett stretched his shoulders. “Silas.”

“You miss him,” she said softly.

He nodded.

“I wish I could have met him.”

Jett smiled. Worries about rustlers slunk to the back of his mind. “He’d have liked you,” he said.

She blushed and ducked her head, a curl brushing her cheek. Something sweet swelled up in his chest.

“Mom was sick and couldn’t work,” he said.