Texas Brides Collection (57 page)

A lady boss? Why had he taken this job? He came looking for Will’s widow, thinking she might be in a bad way and know a little about her husband’s past dealings. Instead, he’d been waylaid. Sure, she had a pretty face and owned a large ranch, but this was downright degrading. Colt swung a look after her. Mrs. Langley might dress like a man and give orders like a man, but she didn’t walk like a man.

Anne studied her two daughters inside the shadows of the horse barn. Some days she wondered if she’d done the right thing by making them strong and feisty. After seeing their behavior toward Colt Wilson, she realized she’d stepped over the boundaries between strength and inhospitality.

Sammie Jo crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. Nancy had her familiar stance of planting her chubby hands on her hips.

“I’m ashamed of both of you,” she said. “What have I taught you about manners?”

“I didn’t like the way he looked,” Sammie Jo said.

“And I didn’t like the way he smelled,” Nancy said.

“Hmm. Is that what the Bible teaches?”

“No, ma’am,” they chorused.

“Look around you.” Anne pointed toward the horse stalls. “Do you like what you see and smell?”

“Not really.” Sammie Jo wrinkled her nose. “Needs a good cleaning.”

“And you two are going to do that very thing.” Anne almost laughed at the horrified looks on their faces.

“Mama, that’s too hard a punishment.” Nancy’s eyes widened, mirroring the same shade of blue as her sister’s.

“I’d rather take a whippin’,” added Sammie Jo.

Anne shook her head. “That’s too easy. You can think about good manners and what the good Lord requires of us while you’re cleaning stalls.” She nodded at her precious daughters and headed toward the sunlight filling the doorway. “You can watch the horse-breakin’ before you start your work.”

Giggles broke from behind her, but she dared not turn around or she’d relinquish the stall cleaning. Anne had shoveled them a man-sized job, but she hoped it taught her sassy girls a lesson.

Colt Wilson
. She searched the cobwebs of her mind for the name. Nothing tore through the many memories of Will and their countless hours together. Near the end he’d told her many things, but a wayward man by the name of Colt Wilson wasn’t one of them. Maybe he followed the law back then. Given time, she’d find out the truth. If she’d learned anything over the past five years, it was how life dealt every man and woman a bushel basket of mountains and valleys. How people handled those happenings made them who they were today. She’d hardened through it…maybe too hard.

Anne shuddered. Where were her brains in subjecting Sammie Jo and Nancy to an outlaw—or rather a past outlaw? And what about the good hands who worked for her? Some men never shook off the habits that had thrown them behind bars. Still, a nudging at her heart had told her to offer him a job. And she sure hoped it was the Lord and not stupidity.

“Mrs. Langley, are you riding?” Thatcher Lee asked.

She surfaced from her reverie and waved at the young man standing with the other three hands. She laughed at the seriousness on his face—barely eighteen years old and her self-proclaimed protector. Or maybe he had his eye on Sammie Jo in a few years. That thought curdled her stomach.

“Ah, yes, I am. In fact, I want that bronc you’re afraid of.”

“The sorrel stallion?” Thatcher Lee asked.

“You bet. I see you have him ready. About time I showed you men how to ride.”

Clancy strode up to the corral with Colt beside him. “Anne, that horse is mean. You could hurt yourself real bad. Why not let me sell him?”

“Are you kidding? How many times in the past few years have you seen me back down from a good fight?” She laughed again.

“When he tosses you on the ground I’m not helping you up.” Standing with his back against the sun, Clancy’s shoulder-length silver hair glistened, his Apache heritage evident from every inch of him.

She opened the gate and headed toward the stallion, which snorted and pranced. Clancy might be right. Thatcher Lee held the reins and tried to settle the horse. Oh, this one would cause her to taste dirt more than once.

“Be careful, Mama,” Nancy called. Sammie Jo knew better than to object.
Fearfulness ruined Anne’s concentration.

Lord, I have a foolish streak, and I know it. Seems like I always have to prove something
. She grabbed the reins, stepped into the stirrup and swung onto the saddle. As if stung by a swarm of bees, the horse reared. Anne dug her knees into his sides and held on. Her heart raced, pumping excitement through her veins. That quickly, his head touched the ground, and his rear legs aimed for the sky. If she hadn’t watched the stallion’s habits, she’d be lying in a heap of bruised flesh looking up at the sun—and listening to Clancy scold with an “I told you so.” It could happen yet.

About the time that thought emptied her head, she lost balance and hit the hard ground. Thatcher Lee headed her way, but she waved him off and spit out a mouthful of dirt. The young man grabbed the stallion’s reins, and she mounted the horse again.

With a twist of powerful muscles, the horse jerked and twisted in midair. She heard nothing, saw nothing, and concentrated on the massive animal beneath her in an attempt to sense its every move. After several minutes, the stallion began to slow. Good thing, for she was ready to give the job to the nearest ranch hand.

Some days she didn’t have a lick of sense.

Finally, the stallion ceased its rearing and snorting and allowed her to walk him around the corral. The others shouted her on. She tossed them a smile.
This is the last time I’m doing this
.

When she finally dismounted and handed the reins to Thatcher Lee, she thought her legs had turned to matchsticks.

“You all right?” Thatcher Lee whispered.

“Yeah,” she said. “If I mention doing this again, remind me I have two daughters to raise.”

From beneath his hat he nodded and grinned.

Anne glanced at Clancy, who narrowed his eyes. No doubt he had his lecture all worked out. She deserved it. Her gaze swept to Colt. Curiosity rested in his dark eyes. Usually admiration greeted her from the ranch hands.

Pride goeth before destruction
. That’s why she wasn’t breaking any more horses.

Anne glanced at her girls standing on either side of Clancy. Nancy’s face had turned ashen. She’d apologize to her baby girl. Shame had made its point. She walked over to her girls.

“Good job, Mama.” Sammie Jo lifted her chin.

Anne nodded and cupped Nancy’s quivering chin in her hand. “I won’t be breaking any more horses, darlin’.”

The little girl swallowed hard and swiped at a single tear rolling over her cheek. “Thank you.”

She caught Colt Wilson’s gaze again. This time he offered a thin-lipped smile.

“Young’uns have a way of setting us right,” he said.

Fire burned her cheeks. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your remarks to yourself.”

“Just making an observation, ma’am.”

“I can take care of my girls just fine.”

“I reckon so.”

His words were like kindling on a crackling fire, but she dare not lose her temper in front of the girls or Clancy. What made matters worse was that he’d spoken rightly. To prove herself equal to a man, she’d risked her life, but she didn’t need him pointing out the truth. And that’s what made her even angrier.

T
hree days later, on Saturday night, with a belly full of smoked ham and beans, Colt brushed down his mare in the ebb of daylight. He’d already decided to take an evening ride and think through the mess he’d gotten himself into. Decisions needed to be made soon, because his idea of a good job didn’t mean taking orders from a woman. He’d looked up Will for a reason, and those reasons still needled at him.

The sound of sloshing water snatched his attention. He watched a couple of the ranch hands hustle about heating water over a fire and adding it to a watering trough in the middle of the barn.

“What’s going on in there?” he asked Thatcher Lee.

“Bath night,” the muscular young man said.

“Why?”

“ ’Cause we smell. Mrs. Langley demands it.”

“Why?”

Thatcher Lee scowled. “For church. We all go to church on Sunday morning with Mrs. Langley and the girls.”

Colt laughed. “Not me. I haven’t set foot in a church since my ma carried me on her hip.”

“Well, on the Double L, you either get to church or hit the road.”

Irritation bubbled up inside Colt, but he swallowed it. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard strange notions coming from Anne Langley. The more he thought about the Double L, the more he realized she had to know about what he and Will had done. Where else had she gotten the money to build up this ranch? He’d learned from Clancy that Will had purchased it about a year before he had the accident.

That meant a portion of this fine acreage was Colt’s. All he had to do was convince her of his partial ownership. Except every time he considered Anne Langley as a business partner, his insides shook.

“What if I don’t have any clean clothes?” Colt asked.

“We have extras.”

“I’d rather take a bath in the creek.”

Thatcher Lee tossed him a cake of soap. “Me and Clancy feel the same way. I’m on my way now. You might as well join us.”

“Since I don’t have a choice, I reckon so.”

A bath and church. This woman would drive him crazy. He nearly laughed aloud. The sight of the Langley women stepping into church with their jeans and boots instead of dresses and bonnets must amuse the locals. No matter. He’d catch up on his sleep during the sermon.

Sunday morning he dressed in clean clothes and stomped the dirt and manure off his boots. He mounted up with the rest of the hands, thinking his brothers would never let him live this one down. Clancy had a Bible. No wonder the old Indian didn’t curse or tell a good story now and then. As far as drinking, he doubted if Clancy did that either, since the boss lady didn’t allow it on the ranch.

Up at the house, Colt did a double take. The Langley women sashayed onto the front porch dressed like fine ladies. Why, they looked quite fetching—especially Mrs. Langley. All three had ribbons in their hair and wore shoes instead of boots. But what he noticed the most was how Mrs. Langley curved out nicely in a corn-colored dress, and her walk still took his breath away.

Stop it, Colt. You’ll get shot for such thoughts
. He lifted his hat and brushed back his hair, hoping no one could hear what raced through his mind. Every time he considered Will and the boss lady married, he simply couldn’t picture it. Will’s take-charge nature and the strong-willed woman Colt secretly called “Boss Lady” would have been like fire and dynamite. And he wouldn’t have wanted to be around for the explosion.

Oh, he should be fair. The boss lady did have her gentle moments; he’d witnessed her tender side with the girls and Rosita—and even Clancy.

The small church stood out in the middle of nowhere with plenty of room for wagons and horses to crowd around the wood-framed building. He expected folks to be solemn, but they were laughing and calling out to each other as if they were on a picnic. Peculiar. Real peculiar.

He swung over his horse and watched Clancy help the boss lady and her daughters down from the wagon as if they’d break in two. Mrs. Langley sure played the part well.

Colt waited as long as possible before he mounted the wooden steps to the church. Spending his morning with Bible thumpers didn’t appeal to him. Not at all. He took his place on a bench with the other hands while Clancy sat with the Langley women. The arrangement made it easy for Colt to sleep and her not to know.

The preacher stepped up to the front. “Open your hymn books to ‘Shall We Gather at the River?’ ”

Colt grinned. The man must have been at the creek last night when he, Clancy, and Thatcher Lee took their baths. In the next instant he closed his eyes, and that was all he remembered.