Love on the Range: A Looking Glass Lake Prequel (5 page)

But a quitter? No.

Not Marlee Donovan.

“Ok, but I’m bringing my own knives. And the produce.”

He opened his mouth but she drilled him with a glare.

“Don’t you dare try to stop me, Jett Maddox.”

He started to say something again, and she pulled her knife back out and pointed it at him.

He put both palms up and backed out.

Smart man.

Marlee heaved a huge sigh when the door swung shut behind him.

All right.

She’d just won the first shootout in the OK Corral.

But had she really? Because she was off her rocker to even consider going. Making a good impression and landing this job seemed hard enough. Now she had to do it on a cattle drive?

Even as she searched the kitchen, found an old cooler and filled it with ice, her brain spun in circles.

She could still back out.

A wave of bitterness surged. No. There was no way she was going back home with her tail between her legs.

She crumbled cooling bacon and threw rows of sourdough bread in the oven to crisp into croutons.

Yeah, but backing out on this working interview didn’t mean she was quitting on her dream, did it? Surely, she could find another avenue to her dream job as head chef of a five-star resort restaurant.

But instead, she packed green beans in layers of paper towels in gallon-sized plastic bags to keep them fresh. She’d have to cook them on the trail within the first week, or they’d spoil.

Her hands trembled when she took roasted red peppers out of the oven and peeled them. They wouldn’t last a whole month on the trail, unless she packed them in oil. She lined the jars up on the counter and stuffed the sautéed spinach and garlic cloves in with the peppers.

Yep, she was crazy.

She’d only been camping once in her life. And she’d hated it. But she couldn’t stomach going back home in shame, either. She imagined knocking on Mom and Dad’s door with a heavy suitcase in one hand and the weight of failure dragging her shoulders down.

Worst of all would be the smug look on Dad’s face.

Marlee rubbed her head as she surveyed her handiwork.

Maybe there was another option.

She should use her last precious minutes to make a call and try to get hired on a cruise line. Maybe she could squeeze into a ship’s kitchen mopping floors and taking out the trash.

But she knew she wouldn’t. She hated water.

And besides, something about the west had already gotten under her skin.

Marlee raised her eyes and whispered a quick prayer. “Lord, please don’t let me regret this.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Outside, Crazy Hoss and an older woman helped Marlee settle her cooler in the back of the chuck wagon.

The woman introduced herself as Fern Aimstock.

“I normally run Mustang Sally’s Beauty Salon in town.” She beamed, pumped Marlee’s hand and patted her on the back at the same time, and then pulled her into a surprisingly strong hug. It was like being hugged by a slightly pudgy tornado.

“When we’re done here,” Fern said. “You should come in for a complimentary manicure.” She smiled and nudged Marlee. “That’ll put the lady back in you after this rough ride.”

Marlee swallowed. “Um…so how long is it going to be?” she asked.

“About a day’s drive up the mountain, and we’ll hit our first camp,” Crazy Hoss said.

“Crazy Hoss and I are going to drive the chuck wagon,” Fern said.

“We could find a seat for you back there with the bedrolls.” Crazy Hoss jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the bed of the wagon.

Marlee peered behind him. Under the canvas, thick rolls filled the back of the wagon nearly to the ceiling.

“Maybe you could sit on a bag of beans, like I did once,” Fern said, her eyes gleaming.

Marlee gave her a polite smile. She’d never seen anyone so excited about sitting on a bag of beans.

“The back of that wagon would be a comfy place for a tush of any size,” Fern declared.

Jett passed by Marlee and tossed another bedroll in the back of the chuck wagon.

“I could saddle up our oldest nag if you would rather ride,” he said. Though his tone was serious, the dimple in his cheek surfaced.

Marlee gritted her teeth.

She rounded on him, but before she could get a word out, he was already loping off toward the barn.

“Hold it right there, cowboy,” she hollered. But he didn’t slow down one bit.

She had to run to catch up with him.

“This whole cattle drive thing is news to me. I signed on to be a line cook. Do you know what that means?”

He finally turned around and looked down at her.

“It does NOT mean I’m in charge of a crazy kitchen on wheels in the middle of a cow field. It means I’m in charge of one station, and that’s it. But I’m a classically trained chef, and I have the chops to be your head chef for the trail if that’s what this cattle drive needs.”

“You angling for a raise?” His eyes glittered, and even though he didn’t move a muscle, she had the feeling he’d just squared off to face her down.

Marlee snorted. “I’m angling for some good communication for a change. You brought me out here as a line cook. If you want me as your head chef, to run the whole kit and caboodle on the cattle drive, then let’s discuss it. But you’ll have to pay me accordingly. That’s only fair.”

“We have a head chef,” he said stiffly.

Wow. A spark whizzed up her spine. He was a lot taller up close. Under the shadow of his hat, his black eyes looked nearly purple.

She sure wouldn’t want to be his enemy. But still, the man knew nothing about professional kitchens and how they should be run.

“Well, I’m not gonna be pushed around by some cowboy. I don’t care if you are the head foreman. The head chef is my boss. I demand to meet her in person before we leave.”

Before he had a chance to answer, a tall man came out of the barn.

The moment he stepped into the sunlight, all activity on the ranch halted.

Even dogs lying in the shade seemed to pant more quietly.

Marlee sucked in a breath. Maybe this guy was the owner. Maybe she was finally going to meet someone in charge—someone other than Jett.

“Logan,” Jett grunted. “Meet Marlee Donovan. Marlee, Logan Paycoach.”

Logan stuck his hand out, but his eyes were dull and distracted. Like he wasn’t really seeing her.

“Nice to meet you.” She smiled but nothing changed in his vacant look. It was as if she’d dropped a pebble into a pond and stood waiting for ripples that never happened.

“How’s it going?” Jett asked.

Logan’s face fell.

Jett put his arm around the other man’s shoulders.

Marlee took a step back. The two men were standing right there. Neither had moved, but she felt invisible to them.

“It’s bad,” Logan said. He kept his eyes on the ground, face hidden under the brim of his hat. “She’s still not waking up. Austin’s okay, but we’re afraid we’re gonna lose—” His voice choked off.

The skin on the back of her neck prickled. Something awful was happening to this family.

“Mom’s falling apart—” Logan stopped again.

“I’ve got this,” Jett said. His voice was low. “You need to stay with your family.”

Marlee peered down at her boots. Already, a film of dust covered them so the rhinestones barely winked out at her.

Logan nodded. “I can’t do that,” he said. “You’ll be short three full teams.”

Jett cleared his throat. “I’ll handle it.”

He put his hand on Logan’s shoulder, and bowed his head and began to pray. “Lord, we don’t understand why this is happening, but we know You love us and we need Your help.”

Marlee froze in place. Jett’s prayer was simple. Straight-forward. Unashamed.

She wasn’t used to people praying aloud for her, though it would feel nice.

Inside, she prayed with them.

After the prayer, Jett and Logan drifted into the barn.

And then Jett came back out, alone. Like always, he was a man on a mission.

“You can’t meet the woman who hired you,” he said as he stalked past Marlee. “She’s in critical care.”

Marlee blinked. That’s the woman they were talking about? The woman they’d prayed for?

Cassie Paycoach was in Intensive Care?

Marlee hurried to catch up with him.

“You could have told me.”

“I just did.”

“Yeah, but I mean before, when—”

…when she hadn’t yet made a fool of herself?

But she couldn’t argue with the look he gave her.

Now was not the time to stand around talking about who should have done what.

“Is there anything I can do to help them?”

“You can get your tail end up in that chuck wagon and hit the trail.”

She frowned.

“Right now, we got a late start going, and the only hold-up is you.”

CHAPTER SIX

At first, Marlee tried sitting up front, squeezed onto the hard wooden seat between Crazy Hoss and Fern.

As the wagon jolted over ruts and rocks, every bump bruised her tail bone. It was awfully hard to concentrate on what Fern and Crazy Hoss were saying.

They were telling her all about chuck wagons and ranching history and about how lots of ranches like the Paycoach’s still used horses and authentic chuck wagons when running their cattle.

“It’s a lot less stressful on the cattle to have horses herding them,” Crazy Hoss said.

The wagon hit something in the road, and pain shot through Marlee’s spine. Had anyone ever thought about how stressful chuck wagons were on humans?

“Some ranches use ATVs to herd, but that stresses the cattle,” Fern added.

“Stressed cattle means skinnier cattle,” Crazy Hoss said. “And then the ranch loses money.”

“But surely you could drive one of those food trucks up here for cooking,” Marlee said. “I could easily feed an army out of one of those things, and you wouldn’t have to use it to herd cattle.”

Crazy Hoss chuckled. “Them things are expensive. Besides, trail cookin’ doesn’t need to be complicated. And we like the chuck wagon. It’s a tradition.”

Who in their right mind would enjoy a tradition that was full of so much punishment and pain? Her rear end was aching so badly, she finally crawled into the back and settled onto the bedrolls. They were piled nearly to the canvas roof, so she sat with her neck hunched over, grabbing onto anything to steady herself as the wagon rumbled along.

Marlee couldn’t imagine either of her sisters in this situation. Maybe she should have given her career in accounting one more shot.

“Tell me about the Paycoach family.”

“That’s a sad story if there ever was one,” Fern said. She shook her head, eyes tearing up. “Silas and Thelma Paycoach knew they were made for each other since they were old enough to compete against each other in the mutton-busting competition. They built this ranch up and raised a family. Six of the finest young men around and two amazing girls. And now, Thelma had to bury her husband last week and her youngest girl is in the hospital and won’t wake up.”

Marlee stared outside, where bright sunshine splintered the mountain ridges with dancing fall colors. It was hard to imagine grief so terrible in a world this beautiful. “What happened?”

Fern shrugged. “Plane crash,” she said. “Austin was flying the plane. He’s Silas and Thelma’s middle boy. He runs the only airport around here. Normally takes up hunters or charters folks from the Boise airport.”

“That’s why my charter flight from Boise was canceled,” Marlee gasped.

Fern nodded.

“Was he okay?”

“Yeah. Broke his leg and a few places in his back. Doctors say he might not walk again. But he and Cassie were lucky to survive.”

So far.

Marlee shivered. The words shadowed the air, unspoken.

“Austin said his equipment malfunctioned. Had to make an emergency landing. Thelma refuses to leave Cassie’s side. Matt, West and Logan are doing their best to keep the ranch going, but they spend most of their time at the hospital, too. And Jaxson has a newborn at home and a sick wife.”

“Jett’s stepped up to run this place,” Crazy Hoss said. “That’s a fine cowboy right there. The kind of man I’d be proud to ride the river with any day.”

Marlee bit her cheek to keep from snorting. “He sure doesn’t talk much,” she said.

“When Jett picked you up from the train station, I’ll bet he didn’t tell you this was going to be a cattle drive.” Fern’s eyebrows rose.

“No,” Marlee said, her voice clipped. “He didn’t.”

Crazy Hoss cackled. “Don’t expect he would.”

“He didn’t tell me I was going to have to cook in a chuck wagon, either,” Marlee retorted.