Love on the Range: A Looking Glass Lake Prequel (6 page)

“He’s a man of few words,” Crazy Hoss said.

“But he’s a good man,” Fern put in.

“I’m sure he is.” How many more times were they going to tell her how wonderful Jett was?

“Actions speak louder than words.” Crazy Hoss flicked the reins as they neared a steep grade. The horses picked up speed. “He’s a man of action if there ever was one.”

“He knew he’d scare you off if he told you about the chuck wagon,” Fern said.

Yeah, it was an authentic wagon, all right. Complete with the hard wooden seats that bruised her tail bone.

Both Fern and Crazy Hoss seemed awfully proud of it. But couldn’t they have at least upgraded the seats?

Marlee pulled out her phone, and started a text to Tanya. Her friend would get a kick out of Marlee’s chuck wagon distress. Besides, maybe a little laugh and some sympathy would help ease the pain in her tail bone.

“You won’t get a signal out here,” Fern said, gesturing to Marlee’s cell phone. “This area is too remote and rugged for anything but satellite phones.”

Marlee sighed and stuffed her phone back into her pocket. So much for distraction from the pain.

An hour later, Fern complained of her back hurting, so she climbed back to lounge on the bedrolls with Marlee.

Lounging wasn’t all Fern did. She also grilled Marlee about her love life.

“What about men?” Fern’s eyes twinkled. “A beauty like you has got to have a beau.”

Marlee shook her head. In her first round of college when she’d gotten her accounting degree, she’d been far too busy studying for tests she could barely pass. And in culinary school, even though the tests were easier, she’d worked to pay her way. Both she and Tanya had been strict about enforcing their own no-dating policies.

Fern reached forward and patted Marlee’s knee. “Don’t you worry about that, darlin’,” she said. “This is the perfect place to meet a good man.”

Marlee swallowed a smile. If she had to guess about the perfect place to meet a good man, a cattle drive wouldn’t be the first to come to mind.

“I just hope I don’t meet a bear,” Marlee said. Maybe changing the subject would distract Fern. “Is it too much to hope that they’re all in hibernation already?”

“Goodness, no.” Fern laughed. “They won’t be hibernating until the snows set in for good. But don’t you worry about that. There is plenty of menfolk who would jump at the chance to protect you.” She chuckled. “That’s what I tried to tell Meg.”

“Who is Meg?”

“My daughter.” Fern sighed so heavily, she sank a little lower on the pile of bedrolls. “My old maid daughter.”

Marlee frowned. She’d only read that term in old-fashioned books. She had no idea people still used it.

“That’s why I’m here,” Fern said.

That got a cackle from Crazy Hoss up front. “Fern signed Meg up for this cattle drive, hoping Meg would catch the eye of a single cowboy out here.”

Fern bristled. “It was a great idea, and she should have listened to me. She’d be married up by now if she gave any of my plans half a chance.”

Crazy Hoss hooted with laughter. “It was the first time I’ve ever seen that sweet and gentle gal outright refuse to obey her mother.” The old man whacked his knee with glee. “So now Fern has to take Meg’s place for the cattle drive.”

“Honestly!” Fern flushed. “This is the perfect place for her to find a man.” She sniffed and turned her attention back to Marlee. “She’s great with horses, and simply stunning in the saddle. If you don’t look too closely at her face.”

Marlee’s mouth fell open, and she had to clamp it shut to hold in the gasp that bolted from her chest.

“It’s the truth,” Fern said, unperturbed by her own bold words and Marlee’s shock. “She’s my own daughter, so I can say it. It’s the plain unvarnished truth.”

“Now, Fern.” Crazy Hoss turned in his seat to pin Fern with a stern look. “Meg ain’t exactly been beaten by the ugly stick, and you know it. She’s a fine strong woman.”

Fern snorted. “Strong is what folks around here call a woman when she isn’t good-looking. But the truth is, Meg’s covered from head to toe in freckles, and she refuses to wear makeup or do anything with her hair because she’s too busy spending all of her time with her precious wild mustangs. She doesn’t realize how wild she looks herself.”

Marlee gazed out over Crazy Hoss’s head where the horses plodded up the winding mountain road. Beyond the horses, the face of the mountain rose, swathed in thick pine, with an occasional blaze of aspen. Out there somewhere were herds of wild mustangs. Maybe, if she could land this job, she’d track Meg down and ask her how a person went about spending time with wild mustangs.

“You, on the other hand….” Fern’s voice trailed off as she studied Marlee.

Uh-oh.

“You’ll be easy to marry off. You’re a real beauty.”

Marlee’s cheeks heated. “I’m just here to cook,” she put in hastily.

Fern laughed. She sat back, smiling and blinking like a contented cat. “A person can do two things at once, you know.”

Maybe she should have taken Jett up on his offer to saddle an old nag for her, instead of riding in the matchmaker’s chuck wagon.

But it was too late for that now.

* * *

They pulled into camp as the sun set.

Marlee was sorer than she’d ever been in her life, but she had to ignore it if she was going to get through the evening.

“I’ll help ya with the tent,” Crazy Hoss said. He’d unhitched the team, and had hobbled them in a nearby meadow.

Now, he was pulling rope and canvas out of the wagon.

“The tent?” Marlee stared. She was supposed to set up a tent? This wasn’t something they’d covered in culinary school.

“The mess hall and kitchen,” Crazy Hoss said. He threw her a corner of heavy canvas. “You didn’t think you were going to cook in the wagon, did ya?”

Marlee lugged the canvas where he directed. She bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from groaning every time she had to move.

“Nobody expects you to be good at this,” Crazy Hoss said.

Marlee snorted. “I’m a professional chef,” she muttered. “Emphasis on professional.”

“That might be true.” Crazy Hoss bent to pound a stake. Then he straightened and squinted at her. “But we don’t expect you to be a good chuck wagon cook. At least not out of the gate.”

If Marlee wasn’t so tired, she’d have set him straight on that. It’s true she wasn’t good at a lot of things. She didn’t have the most avant-garde menus. But she consistently put out good food. Nobody had to worry she was going to be a bad chuck wagon cook.

“That’s why I’m here, you know,” Crazy Hoss said. “Jett figured you might need a bit of help to get yer head on straight when it comes to this chuck wagon stuff…but don’t let me intimidate you.”

This time, when he threw another canvas corner to her, she wasn’t ready, and she dropped it.

Nobody expects you to be good at this.

It stung because it sounded an awful lot like what Dad said all the time.

We don’t expect you to be good at school, Marlee. But this chef nonsense isn’t practical. You need to study something you can use in real life.

Marlee sighed. Dad had never said anything like that to her older sisters. He didn’t have to. One was a brain surgeon and one was a District Attorney. Marlee was the only family failure.

Apparently, not even a grumpy cowboy like Jett expected much from her. He’d never even met her, and he’d already lined up Crazy Hoss to babysit her on this trip.

How dare Jett make any assumptions about her! As if springing a cattle drive and a kitchen without running water on her wasn’t bad enough, now she had to report to a boss who had decided she’d fail before she even had a chance to get started.

On this working interview Cassie was supposed to make the decision, not a cowboy. Warm, funny and excited-about-food Cassie.

“You got any experience with outdoor cookin’?” Crazy Hoss interrupted her thoughts.

Marlee watched him pound in the final tent peg. “Yes.” Technically, it was true. There was the grilling class in culinary school, and then she’d even helped a team put together a real pig Luau for her catering class.

“I’ve had an awful lot of good Dutch oven meals in my day.” Crazy Hoss grinned and rocked back on his heels, patting his stomach.

“Don’t let him give you a hard time, Marlee,” Fern said as she brushed by with an armload of firewood. “What he’s had is a lot of cowboy slop served with a side of dry cornbread. And none of it prepared by a professional chef.” She dumped the firewood and straightened up, eyes bright with expectation. “This is gonna be good.”

Tense muscles eased in Marlee’s shoulders. Well, at least one person didn’t expect her to be a flop.

The tent they’d just put up hooked to the back of the chuck wagon, and they’d set up a couple of folding tables and benches so it formed a kind of dining area.

“Folks will only use this dining area if it rains or snows,” Crazy Hoss said. “They prefer to sit around the campfire. So it’s mostly all yours.”

She ducked inside the tent and followed Crazy Hoss to the back of the chuck wagon, where cupboards and drawers were built in. Dried blueberries, beans, dried beef, and other staples like flour, coffee and sugar nestled against each other neatly in the drawers.

With the table set up next to the food storage, her kitchen was a bit larger than she’d expected.

“There ain’t much room for haulin’ food,” Crazy Hoss said. “So we usually have beans and cornbread every night. Pancakes in the mornin.’ The cowboys take a couple biscuits with ‘em for lunch when they hit the trail. Some of the young ones bring their own protein bars. They’ll all be hungry as springtime bears come supper time.”

He plodded to the front of the tent and rolled canvas flaps back, securing them with ties. “If you show me where ya put yer soaked beans, I’d be happy to set ‘em on the fire for ya,” Crazy Hoss said.

Marlee blinked. “Um….”

Outside, the low-lying sun tinged everything in the camp with gold. It was a picture-perfect evening. The sky above purpled and blazed as cowboys finished pitching tents and gathered around the fire, talking and laughing and waiting for their dinner.

It was picture-perfect, except for one thing: nobody had told her she needed to put beans on to soak.

Crazy Hoss cracked his knuckles. “Might not sound like much, but beans and cornbread cooked in a Dutch oven over hot coals could feed a king, if he was in the saddle all day. I shore am lookin’ forward to this.”

“Um, I—” Marlee stammered, as her mind worked. The one thing the men wanted, and she couldn’t get it on to cook. And this was no normal kitchen. Improvising wasn’t going to be easy. “I’ve got something else planned,” she blurted.

It was kind of true. She could do something with that chipped, dried beef. And she’d brought along the produce she’d prepped at the ranch. Spinach, peppers, cabbage, tomatoes and green beans.

She took a deep breath. “I can handle it,” she said. “You go relax and I’ll get everything ready on my own.”

When Crazy Hoss left, Marlee let out a long sigh and rolled her head back, stretching sore muscles.

Seriously. Would it have been too much to ask to pack a propane grill? She’d never cooked with a Dutch oven, but Crazy Hoss had said something about cooking over coals.

How hard could it be?

Marlee got to work. She cobbled together a weak stew of chipped beef, tomatoes, and cabbage. She tossed in all the peppers she’d roasted and soaked in garlic oil that morning. That should give the stew a nice deep flavor, even though it wouldn’t be cooked for very long.

At the last minute, she even hustled up a quick dough for dumplings. They would thicken the broth, and between the stew and the garlic sourdough croutons she’d toasted earlier that day, there wouldn’t be an empty belly in camp.

Marlee settled several large Dutch ovens full of stew on the coals, and then plopped into a chair by the fire next to Fern.

Already, as the last bit of purple turned to navy blue in the sky above, cold rolled down from higher up in the mountains.

“We’ll push on to our base camp tomorrow,” Jett said. “It’ll be another full day of driving in the chuck wagon.” He peered at her, a question in his eyes.

“She’ll survive it,” Fern chuckled. She patted Marlee on the knee. “This gal’s tough.”

Marlee stretched and smiled sweetly back at Jett.

His doubtful look would come right off after he tasted the dinner she’d just created.

Yeah. She was going to survive this cattle drive. She might come back with mosquito bites all over, and a whiplash from the chuck wagon, but Marlee Donovan had already risen to the occasion and produced a dinner that would knock their socks off.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Marlee stirred the stew and took a plate from the first cowboy in line. She plopped a heaping serving of stew onto his plate.

Oh, no.

The dumplings had sunk to the bottom, and were stuck in one gritty burnt layer. Their charred edges taunted her from the steaming stew she’d just served.