Wildflower (4 page)

“Why?”

Roscoe’s question was aimed at Logan, but Matt answered, “Because the ranch is my dowry.”

With deadly calm, Roscoe pointed his scowl at her. “What did you say?”

She slanted up her chin. Taller and beefier than Logan, with black, unkempt hair, Roscoe had always reminded her of wild mountain man. He used his size to intimidate those around him, but she’d never given him that kind of power over her, no matter how threatening he acted. Yet an ominous ripple traversed her skin at the loathing in the foreman’s beady, black eyes. “Logan gets the ranch when he marries me.”

Roscoe narrowed his gaze and took a step. Logan moved in front of her, his arms board straight and his hands fisted.

“I’ve been at this goddamn ranch for six fucking years,” Roscoe ground out through clenched jaws. “
I’m
the foreman and
I
deserve to be the owner. I woulda
fuckin
’ married you if it meant
gettin
’ it.”

Matt stepped from behind Logan, her own ire rising. “Well, Pa didn’t ask you, did he? He must not have thought you’d be a good ranch owner. Or husband.” She threw the last comment out just to dig at the foreman’s hide.

Roscoe snaked a hand out and grasped her arm in a crushing grip. “You fucking bit—”

Logan’s fist connected to Roscoe’s jaw. The big man thrust her away and staggered back three steps. He regained his balance, a hand to his chin. Because of the funeral, all the guns had been left in the bunkhouse. Good thing, because the glare Roscoe sent Logan had murder written all over it.

Logan again positioned himself in front of Matt. “That’s my future wife you’re addressing.”

Tingles spouted in her stomach at Logan’s protective stance even as she peeked around his body.

“You best apologize, Turner, for disrespecting her and me.”

Roscoe straightened. Hatred blazed in his eyes. “Fuck you.”

Logan’s chuckle held no humor. “No thanks. Pack your gear, Turner. You’re done here.” He wrapped an arm around Matt’s shoulders. Even through her thick coat, the shielding heat of his body seeped into her skin. Something quivered low in her belly as he escorted her away.

Halfway toward the cookhouse, his arm slid from her shoulders. Matt missed the warmth almost immediately and despised
herself
for the weakness. She glanced at the former foreman stomping toward the bunkhouse then at Logan. “You think it was smart to fire Roscoe? He’s good with cattle and we’re shorthanded right now.”

Logan grunted. “We’ll be just fine without him.” He stopped at the bottom of the cookhouse. “You sure you don’t want to wait a few days to get married?”

Anxiety pinched her stomach. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No. I just thought a woman would want her wedding day to be special and not a rushed affair.”

Her heavy heart lifted for a moment, until she realized she wasn’t a normal woman. She shook her head. “It’s stupid to go to that kind of trouble.” She walked up the steps. “Besides, once the ceremony’s done, I’ll be leaving.”

Logan’s hand gripped her arm and pulled her back. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

Matt jerked from his grasp. “I said I’d marry you. Never said anything about staying.”

“It isn’t safe for you to be wandering the prairie alone.”

Her eyes tapered. “Safe or not, it’s not your concern.”

“As your husband, it will be my concern.”

Her heart caught at the sincerity of his voice. She ignored the sensation. “Like I said, you needn’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“Like
I
said, as your husband, I damn sure will worry.”

The steely edge to his voice had her almost believing he was concerned for her. Almost. But how could he be when the only thing he wanted was the ranch? She turned toward the door.

Without warning, Logan scooped her into his arms and pivoted from the steps. She wiggled and fought, slapping at any part of him she could hit. The rigidness of his chest and back did her more damage than she did to him. “Put me down!”

Around the side of the cookhouse, he set her on the ground, her arms pinned to her sides by his large hands. She glared at him. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking this conversation should be private and not shared with everyone inside.”

She kicked his legs, but he easily sidestepped the attempt. He gave her a small shake, frustration mingling with compassion in his eyes. “Before you get more riled than a town drunk without a whiskey, listen to what I have to say.”

The last thing she wanted to do was listen, but she couldn’t break free of his hold. She sucked in a breath and lowered her gaze. “I’m listening.”

He slowly released her like he expected her to bolt
then
crossed his arms. “You can just take off, not when the snow’s still thick on the prairie. You know it’s not safe. And then there’s the question of money and the fact you don’t have any.”

She stared at the ground, not responding.

“If you agree to stay until after the cattle drive in June, I’ll give you a share of the stockyard sale. Wasn’t that the deal you made with Gene?”

She looked up then. “Yes, but I don’t want to stay.”

“I know you don’t want to, but it’s the smart thing to do.”

“But—”

His finger on her lips silenced any more words. The rough feel of his finger on her lips sent a waterfall of shivers down her spine. “You said you’d listen.” He tucked his arm back across his chest. “In addition, I promise to deliver you safely to wherever it is you want to go. I also need you to stay, Matt.”

In spite of herself, joy flickered in her chest. “You need me to stay? Why?”

“Because we’re still shorthanded and because…” Logan turned his gaze to the horizon with a heavy sigh. “Because rustling’s gotten bad. Real bad.” He looked at her again. “We’ve lost almost two dozen head in the past month alone.”

“
What
?” Any joyful thought vanished. “Why the hell is
this the
first I’ve heard about it?”

“It wasn’t my place to say. Roscoe’s the foreman. Or was. ‘Sides, with your pa so sick, you had enough on your mind. The rustlers are getting more aggressive, too. They’re going after medium-sized spreads and not just the small ones. I plan to move the herd to the east pasture this week.”

“Thought we were wintering that pasture for the fall.”

“We were, but it’s closer so the men spend less time riding to and from the herd for their shifts and more time guarding it.”

She rubbed a gloved hand across her forehead. Why hadn’t she had the good sense to be born a boy? If she had, things might be different now. Maybe her father wouldn’t be dead. Maybe rustling wouldn’t be a threat. Maybe she wouldn’t be forced to marry someone who didn’t want her. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

She shrugged off the mental despair. “I’m only one person. I can leave once the men are back in their saddles.”

“You might be only one person, but no one knows these parts better than you. And you’re good with cattle, Matt. Damn good.”

“Not as good as Roscoe and you let him go.” She shook her head again. “You don’t need me.”

“Let me be the judge of what I need.”

“Why is it so dang important that I stay?” The truth chilled her bones. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Just what do you reckon is going to happen between us once we’re married?”

A tense silence charged the great prairie as they stared at each other.

“I won’t bed you,” she declared in a hushed voice. “Even if I stay, I won’t bed you.”

Anger flared in his eyes right before he looked away. “I’m not asking you to.”

A cut to her pride, but she refused to show it. “Good.” She turned again toward the cookhouse. “So long as that’s clear.”

“It is. And you’ll stay until after the drive.”

“I will. Now let’s go get this marriage thing done.”

Head down against another cold slap of wind, she had to wonder if she hadn’t just made a deal with the devil.

~
~
~

Lucifer was having a good, hard laugh at Logan’s expense. He was marrying Matt, but wouldn’t be able to touch her.

Hell’s fire
!

Gene’s body wasn’t even cold, and the girl wanted to hightail it out of Indian Territory. Logan knew leaving was what she wanted, so it shouldn’t have surprised him. Yet it did.

Or maybe it was his body’s reaction that surprised him.

He hadn’t expected his blood to thump through his veins in anticipation of marrying her. Hadn’t expected buried need to swell his cock at the chance of claiming the woman he’d only allowed himself to dream about. A chance which would never be realized if she had anything to say about it.

At least she was staying until after the drive. Three months. He didn’t hold much hope she’d change her mind, but it was possible. He laughed to himself. Right. Like lassoing the wind was possible.

He didn’t know who was more stunned at the announcement he and Matt were marrying; the preacher, the old cook or the neighbors. Not that it mattered. The simple ceremony was over in a matter of minutes. No rings were exchanged because none were had. He made a mental note to buy her a band the next time he went to town.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Wilson intoned. “You may kiss your bride.”

Logan put his hand on Matt’s shoulder and angled her toward him. He hadn’t even held her hand during the hastily repeated vows. Cupping her cheek, he lowered his head. Wariness grew in her Kentucky clover eyes.

He brushed the satiny skin of her cheek with his lips. A faint gasp escaped her. He repeated the caress on the other cheek. The bright anxiousness in her eyes locked onto his heart and squeezed. He was just about to settle his mouth against hers when the loud clanging of a dropped pot made her jump away.

All eyes landed on Chuck who had the decency to cringe, if only a little bit. “Sorry, folks,” he apologized. “Handle slipped.”

Chuck set about wiping up the spilled stew from the table as Logan turned to Matt, but she’d moved away. To pull her back and claim his kiss would have only focused more attention on them. He bit back a curse and stood silently by her side.

No one wasted time in skedaddling from the cookhouse. Probably because they didn’t know what to say, sorry for the death of your father or congratulations on your marriage.

The reverend and the neighbors headed home while Logan left Matt to help Chuck clean up and went to the bunkhouse to gather his gear.

Grateful to see Roscoe had cleared out, he stuffed his two spare shirts and extra pair of Levi’s into his saddlebag, along with his shaving kit and the other paltry possessions he owned. After stopping by the barn to pick up his bedroll, he strode across the yard to the main house. He pushed open the door without knocking.

Matt sat at the table, a bowl of stew in front of her. She vaulted to her feet, choking on a mouthful of food. “What are you doing here?”

He dropped his saddlebag and bedroll onto the floor. “Moving in. What are you doing? Thought you were helping Chuck.”

“He told me to
git
.” Her gaze followed him as he set his rifle in the corner by the door. “You can’t stay here.”

His hackles rose at her bristly tone. “Where should I stay? In case you forgot, we’re married.”