The Christmas Journey (2 page)

J
osephine Wylie marched back inside the livery, still madder than a dunked cat. If those two mangy curs had done anything to hurt Danny—

Her eyes lit on the fancily-dressed stranger, and she suddenly had a target for her anger.

He stood staring at her with a dazed look—like he’d just swallowed a gnat. But then he smiled and stepped forward. “I believe introductions are in order. I’m Ryland Lassiter.”

She ignored the hand. “You’re also a flea-brained fool. What in Sam Hill did you think you were doing?”

He stiffened, slowly lowering his hand. “I was coming to the aid of that stalwart young man at your side.”

Hah! Did he think he was going to win her over with his highfalutin talk and that toe-tingly deep voice of his? She planted her fists on her hips. “By going up against two gun-toting varmints with nothing but a pitchfork?”

“Now see here—”

She didn’t give him a chance to finish his protest. “Mister, you might be the biggest toad in the pond where you come
from, but that don’t mean beans around here. If you want to risk your own hide, that’s your business, but your blamed fool actions put Danny in danger, too. That’s either pebble-brained stupidity or grizzly-sized disregard for others, neither of which I can stomach.”

“Nor can I.” The man’s words were controlled but she didn’t miss the flash of temper in his storm-gray eyes. “I also can’t abide bullies. When I arrived, Danny was already trying to face them down. I only—”

“What!” Jo’s heartbeat kicked up a notch as she swung around. “Daniel Edward Atkins, is that true?”

Danny’s face reddened even as he thrust out his jaw. “They owed us for a week’s feed and stabling. With Thanksgiving and Christmas coming up, we need that money.”

This was her fault. She shouldn’t have left him alone knowing those two polecats had mounts stabled here. He could handle a lot of the work right enough, but at eleven he just wasn’t old enough to understand all the consequences of his actions. If anything had happened to him while she was at the feed store…

Jo leaned forward, baring the full force of her frown on the unrepentant boy. “I’ve told you before, nothing’s worth getting shot over. If someone gives you this kind of trouble, let it go and we’ll get Sheriff Hammond to handle it afterward.”

The boy kicked at a clod of dirt. “I’m big enough to hold my own.”

Jo blew the stray hair off her forehead with an exasperated huff. If only that were true. Someday, Danny would be old enough to take over and she’d finally be free to go her own way. But today’s actions only proved how far away that day was.

Offering up a quick prayer for patience, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Danny, I got to know you’re going to mind what I tell you when I leave you in charge.”

He gave a reluctant nod, then glanced past her, reminding Jo they weren’t alone.

And that she had some crow to eat.

Someday, Lord, I’m going to learn to get all the facts before flying off the handle. Your teaching about thinking twice before speaking once is a sure-enough tough one for me to learn.

Squaring her shoulders, she turned to the gent who’d introduced himself as Ryland Lassiter. “Looks like I owe you an apology, Mister. And a big thank-you to boot.” She thrust out her hand, not sure if he’d take it after the way she’d lit into him.

But he seemed willing to let it go. Taking her hand, he gave a short bow before releasing it. Well, wasn’t he a fancy-mannered gent.

“Apology accepted. And there’s no need for thanks. It’s you who actually saved the day. Miss…” He cocked his head to one side with a questioning smile.

“Wylie. Josephine Wylie. But everyone just calls me Jo.”

“Well, Miss Wylie, I’m glad I could be of service.”

Miss Wylie—she couldn’t remember the last time someone had called her that. Certainly not since her pa died and she took over the livery.

She was suddenly very aware of just how unladylike she looked in her overalls and boots. Certainly not like any of the prim-and-proper misses a fancy gent like him must be used to.

Jo turned and hung the rifle on a set of pegs near the door, as much to hide her sudden discomfort as anything else. He probably thought she was a bumpkin who didn’t know how a lady was supposed to dress or act.

Then she gave herself a mental shake. There was absolutely no reason why she should give a fig what he thought of her. He was likely just passing through Knotty Pine—she’d never see him again once he went on his way.

When she turned back around she was ready to look him in the eye again. But she glanced at Danny first. “Time you headed up to the house. Cora Beth has your lunch ready by now. And the train’s been delayed, so we picked up a couple of boarders for tonight. I’m sure she’s going to need your help getting everyone settled in.”

With a nod, Danny turned to his rescuer. “Thanks for your help, Mister.” He flashed a cocky grin. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

The man nodded with a smile. “I’d be happy to have you on my side anytime.”

With a wave, Danny left the livery, whistling as he went.

Which left her alone with Mr. Lassiter.

Her first apology had been a bit grudging. Time to fix that. “Sorry I snapped at you. You stepped in to help Danny when you could’ve just stood by, and for that I’m beholden. No telling what those two snakes would’ve done if you hadn’t come along.”

He shrugged and gave her another of those let’s-be-friends smiles. “I did what needed doing. Danny’s more than just your stableboy I take it.”

She nodded. “Foster brother.”

“Well, he was brave to stand up to those thugs the way he did.”

“Pigheaded, more like.” She tilted her chin, irritation flaring again. “He might’ve gotten himself killed.” Just the thought of what could have happened set her stomach churning.

“He’s just a boy.”

“But
you
aren’t.” Fool greenhorn. Didn’t he realize how serious that little dust-up had been? Her hands fisted at her sides as she fought the urge to shake a finger in his face. “I know you mean well, and it might be different where you come from, but it’s best you learn that in these parts there are men who’d as soon shoot you as look at you.”

His jaw tightened. Probably didn’t like getting lectured to, but it was for his own good.

“Where I come from,” he said, each word dropping like a stone, “is Hawk’s Creek Ranch, about eighty miles northwest of here.”

Jo’s head went up and her hands unclenched. He was a Texan? And a rancher to boot. Well, he sure as fire didn’t look or dress like any rancher she’d ever met.

“And no,” he continued, “as it happens, it isn’t any different from Knotty Pine, at least not in the way you mean. I find bullies are pretty much the same wherever you find them.”

Wherever you find them.
She knew he hadn’t meant anything by that, but the words still carried the bite of a scorpion sting.

“Now, if you don’t mind getting down to business,” he said, “I would like to rent a rig and I’m in a hurry.”

Getting down to business sounded just fine to her. She leaned back against a stall and met his gaze head-on. “When do you need it, for how long and where are you headed?”

“The when is right now. The where is Foxberry and I’m not certain how long I’ll be gone, but it will likely be about a week.” He raised one brow. “Do you have a rig for lease or not?”

She had the feeling this gent was used to getting his way. Too bad she’d have to disappoint him. “Sorry. The buggy and buckboard are both leased out for the day. The buggy’s due back by suppertime, though, if you want to wait.”

He impatiently brushed a bit of straw from his sleeve. “I don’t.”

Jo straightened. “Look, I reckon you came in on the train. I heard there was a problem with the tracks up around Tatter’s Gully. It’s happened before. They ought to have it fixed by noon tomorrow.”

“Like I said, I’m in a hurry.” He ran a hand through his hair,
mussing it just enough to take a dab of the polish off his dandified looks.

She approved of the change.

“If there are no carriages, what about renting me a horse and saddle?” He nodded toward the two animals still in the stable. His tone had been polite, but she saw the muscles in that square jaw of his tense. Impatience flashed in his see-through-you eyes.

She didn’t much blame him for wanting to be on his way. She’d been dreaming of getting out of Knotty Pine for what seemed her whole life.

Jo retrieved the pitchfork and leaned on it, studying her would-be customer. He was a sure-enough puzzlement. Obviously well-heeled. And not a bad-looking man if you liked the broad-shouldered, smooth-as-worn-leather type. But he wasn’t a too-good-to-get-his-hands-dirty gent either. Knew how to handle himself, too. That had been a slick move he’d made, knocking the gun from Otis’s hand and then covering Danny’s back.

“Let’s see,” she said, thinking out loud, “Foxberry is about a day’s ride—assuming you’re an experienced rider.” She paused and he nodded stiffly. Not that she’d expect him to answer otherwise. “It’s just past noon so you won’t get there today. Let’s say three days for the trip there and back then, and maybe five days’ stay. That means you’d have the animal tied up for about eight days, give or take.”

Jo rubbed her chin, ready for a bit of dickering. “That kind of time won’t come cheap. You sure you wouldn’t rather wait? My family runs a boardinghouse and I’m sure my sister has a comfortable room we can rent you for a fair price.”

Mr. Lassiter pulled a wallet out of his coat. “I appreciate the offer, but no thanks. Name your price so I can get going.”

Jo’s knuckles whitened as her grip tightened on the pitchfork. He could just whip out that wallet of his and go wherever
he wanted, whenever he wanted. And he didn’t even seem to realize how lucky he was. Much as she hankered to get out and see something of the world, she’d never traveled more than twenty miles from Knotty Pine in her entire twenty-three years.

Lord God, it just ain’t fair.

“One hundred dollars.” The words were out of her mouth before she’d even realized what she was going to say.

“A hundred dollars?” His eyes narrowed. “I could practically
buy
the animal for that price.”

Too late to back down now. “Not one as good as these. Besides, I don’t have any guarantees you’re going to return the animal, do I?” She ignored the way he’d stiffened. “Like I said, you’d be better off waiting for the train.”

To her surprise, he pulled out a wad of bills. “Here. Anything to get on my way.”

Realizing her jaw had dropped, Jo hurriedly closed her mouth. This fool was actually carrying that kind of money around with him? And a hundred dollars didn’t even clean him out—the wallet was still plump when he stuffed it back into his jacket. “But—”

He’d grabbed her hand and the shock of that physical contact shut her up. He slapped the money into her palm, then moved to the stalls.

Guilt pinched at Jo’s conscience. She’d expected him to haggle a bit—not actually agree to her outlandish price. It just wouldn’t be right for her to take all this money.

She bit her lip, staring at his stiff back. How could she give some of it back without sounding like a henwit?

I know, Lord, it’s my own fault for letting envy get the best of me.

Stuffing the money in her pocket, Jo followed him to the far end of the livery. “Of course,” she said as casually as she could,
“you’ll get half of this back when you return the horse.” Much as she tried, she couldn’t stop the heat rising in her cheeks.

He shot her a look she couldn’t read. Then he nodded and pointed to the larger of the animals. “I’ll take this one.”

“That’s Scout.” The knot in Jo’s stomach eased as she settled back down to discussing business. “I’m afraid he’s a bit fractious—doesn’t take to strangers much. You’d be better off with Licorice.”

He shrugged. “He’s the better of the two horses. And I’ve handled more spirited animals before, both Texas-bred and foreign. I’ve even helped saddle-break my share. So I think I can manage Scout here just fine.”

Jo clamped her lips closed. There he went, hinting about his travels again. That was the worst part about this job. Watching other people come and go, hearing about all the places they’d been or were headed to, while she just stood and watched life pass her by. Would she ever be able to act on the plans she and Aunt Pearl had made?

Without waiting for assistance, Mr. Lassiter began gathering tack. He moved with an ease and sureness she had to admire. But he also seemed in an awful hurry. Made you wonder if he was running
from
something or
to
something.

“You manage this place all on your own?” he asked, not pausing from his efforts.

“Yep. Lock, stock and barrel.” Somebody had to support the family and for now she was it.

“Seems a mighty big responsibility.”

She stiffened. “For a woman, you mean.”

He glanced up and his expression reflected friendly curiosity, nothing more. “No offense, but I admit I find it an unorthodox arrangement.”