A Cheyenne Celebration

by Caroline Lee

  A Cheyenne Celebration

  Other works by Caroline Lee

  The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet

  A Cheyenne Christmas

  A Cheyenne Celebration

  A Cheyenne Thanksgiving

  A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming

  Where They Belong: A Sweet Cheyenne Christmas Novella

  The Mothers of Sweet Cheyenne: A short story collection

  Everland Ever After

  Little Red (Rojita + Hank)

  Ella (Ella + Ian)

  Beauty (Arabella + Vincenzo)

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  Copyright © 2014, Caroline Lee

  CarolineLeeRomance@gmail.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  First edition: 2014

  This work is made available in e-book format by Amazon Kindle at www.amazon.com

  And in paperback format by CreateSpace at www.createspace.com

  Printing/manufacturing information for this book may be found on the last page

  Cover: EDHGraphics

  For all of us Mollys

  who can’t help but roll our eyes

  at pristinely perfect

  romance heroines.

  CHAPTER ONE

  June, 1881

  The week after she turned twenty, Cameron MacLeod came courting. Serena wasn’t that surprised when Brixley poked his head into the office—her father’s office—to tell her that he’d put Mr. MacLeod in the parlor. No, Serena had expected the rancher days ago. She was impressed he’d managed to wait a full week.

  She thanked Brixley with a smile, and closed the account ledger in front of her. An ache had started behind her eyes, and she rubbed her temples in a futile attempt to rid herself of it. It wasn’t even noon, but she’d already spent hours poring over her father’s scratchy handwriting, attempting to make sense of the year ahead. Her shoulders were sore from the tension of trying to make the numbers match up.

  Numbers! Who would have thought that ranching involved so many numbers? It was just silly. Her father had always seemed to effortlessly balance the books; making sure that their spread had the proper feed and manpower, and knowing exactly how many head of cattle they could afford to send to slaughter any particular year. But since his death almost two years ago, Serena had been stumbling through his equations, hoping that nothing much would change, and that the ranch would continue to operate smoothly.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t, and she could no longer ignore that fact. She’d lost several hands who had refused to work for a woman, and because she was so unprepared, the ranch had lost cattle to both of the past winters. And no matter how many times she did the math, the current numbers didn’t add up correctly either. Serena had a strong suspicion her beef was being rustled. But she pinched the bridge of her nose and admitted to herself that it could just be because she was so terrible with numbers. Honest to Heaven, she had no idea what she was doing, or how she was supposed to keep her father’s ranch from going under.

  The groan that escaped her lips when she stood and stretched wasn’t entirely from the ache in her back. She was honest enough with herself to admit the truth; she was never going to make the Double-S a success. It wasn’t just that she hated the numbers, hated having to balance everything so properly. That would be fine if she truly loved the ranch; she could learn how to do those things.

  But she hated the Double-S; hated almost everything about it. The dirt and the coarseness and the numbers and the memories. She hated the thought of spending the rest of her life trapped here on this patch of nothingness, when there was a perfectly good city not two hours’ ride away. She hated having to sacrifice to keep her father’s dream alive, when she hadn’t particularly cared for the man in the first place.

  She sighed, and mentally tsked herself, straightening her shoulders. She didn’t hate the Double-S, not truly. There were some nice parts to it, like the sunsets and the poppies. The years she’d spent here hadn’t been horrible; just lonely. She’d been desperate for affection after her mother passed away, and her father was a distant, intimidating presence in her life. But when their neighbor Mr. Barker married, and his new sisters-in-law came to live with him, Serena would often spend hours at his house, reading Wendy’s books and talking about fashion. Wendy had been one of the bright spots of Serena’s life on the Double-S, but she’d moved to St. Louis a year ago for school. Serena missed being able to talk things over with her best friend. Wendy probably wouldn’t have any trouble with all of these numbers.

  Voices from the parlor interrupted her maudlin musing. Oh yes, Mr. MacLeod. Her hands fluttered about her bun, tucking in stray strands and pinching her cheeks for color. She smoothed down the front of her dress, brushing off the few crumbs left by Brixley’s breakfast muffin.

  Her smile was a little forced when she slipped through the foyer into the parlor, and noticed the dining room door swinging shut. Thank goodness, Brixley had covered her bad manners of making her guest wait by offering him refreshments. There was a tall glass of lemonade on the table beside Mr. MacLeod, and a cup of tea beside her Aunt Agnes—at least, Serena thought it was Agnes, rather than her identical twin Agatha—who was dozing in her favorite chair in the corner. Caesar was curled up on her lap, but opened one orange eye to glare at her haughtily for interrupting his nap. Mr. MacLeod was eying the older woman nervously, as if not sure if he should attempt polite conversation.

  But he stood when he noticed Serena enter the room, and she caught her breath to see him, as she did every time. My goodness, but he was striking. Handsome even, in a course, cowboy sort of way. His hair was golden-brown, and he wore it long, in waves that brushed his collar at times, and his shoulders at others. His eyes were the green of a Wyoming spring, under harshly slanted brows. He’d shaved for this visit—maybe he knew that she hated beards—and his square jaw was clenched. But his most remarkable feature was his height; she barely came up to his chest, and felt tiny next to him. But he had always been very gentle with her, and had never given her any reason to think that he’d be as intimidating as her father had been. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a certain wariness.

  “Happy birthday, Miss Selkirk.” Mr. MacLeod kept his voice quiet, but thrust a bouquet at her, and she blinked in surprise. Clutched in one dark fist was a collection of her favorite yellow poppies, black-eyed-susans, and delicate little cinquefoils. They were lovely together, and so carefully arrayed that she couldn’t help but be charmed. Here was a man who carried a Winchester and wrangled cattle and rode fence in the worst blizzard, stopping to arrange wildflowers for his neighbor. She couldn’t imagine her father ever doing anything so sweet.

  And so this time, her smile was genuine when she took the bouquet from him. “Thank you very much, Mr. MacLeod. That’s very kind of you.” If she hadn’t been watching him from the corner of her eye while she arranged the flowers in one of her mother’s vases, she might have missed the slight flush that crept up the collar of his new shirt. Was he wearing a new shirt just for her?

  It was a little endearing to think that he might be uncomfortable in her presence—even though she knew why he was here—so she set out to relax him. “You didn’t need to bring me flowers, Mr. MacLeod, but I’m so very pleased that you did. You probably didn’t know this, but I adore the poppies that
grow wild on our properties.”

  He smiled crookedly, and suddenly the room felt warm. Striking? No, Cameron MacLeod could be downright handsome, especially with that humble little smile. “I remember, Miss Selkirk. You mentioned it at Easter a few years ago. And please, call me Cam.”

  Serena took a deep breath. Here it came. Of course a man bent on courting would insist on her using his given name. “Very well, Cam.”

  “And I hope, in return, I might call you Serena.”

  Her smile hitched, and suddenly she couldn’t think of anything coy or polite to say. Her gaze darted to dear Agnes, softly snoring the light streaming through the front window, looking as contented as the cat on her lap. Serena wasn’t completely convinced that the older woman was asleep; leave it to one of her aunts to enact an elaborate charade, just to spy on her. Still, sleeping or not, it would have been nice if her aunt had given her some kind of sign about the propriety of Mr. MacL—Cam’s request. “That seems… improper.” She inwardly winced at her awkwardness.

  “Miss Selkirk…. Serena.” Despite holding her own breath in horrified anticipation, she couldn’t help but notice the way the cotton of his shirt stretched across his shoulders as he took a deep breath. “As you know, we’ve been neighbors for many years, and our ranches border one another along several miles. Your father was a canny businessman, and grew the Double-S into a successful cattle ranch. He was a respected member of the Laramie County Stock Association… And I am too. I can’t yet match your nine hundred head of cattle, but I’m getting there. My Open Skye is a desirable piece of property itself.”

  It was actually sweet the way he was getting so nervous, extolling his assets. She knew that Mr. MacLe—Cam wasn’t a boastful man, but he’d have to make sure that she knew his worth, if he expected to ask for her hand. Who would have ever thought that such a large, overwhelming man could be nervous over a little something like courting a woman? She tried not to smile as her mind wandered.

  Oh, she knew very well how much the Open Skye was worth, and had spent some time thinking hard about it over the last several months. Cam had bought up the land west of the Double-S when she was eleven, and had been frantically expanding for the last nine years. Despite his father’s grouchiness, Serena had seen the MacLeods every few months at social functions, and hadn’t been blind to Cam’s approving glances as she’d grown older. The Double-S sat on a deep bend of Horse Creek, a more reliable water source than the Open Skye had access to. Oh, Cam’s cattle wouldn’t parch, since her father had never fenced out MacLeod beef, but she knew that he wanted access to her bend. He probably wouldn’t mind access to her cattle, as well; as he’d said, the Double-S had even more animals than he did. And, if Serena were honest with herself—she didn’t think she was being boastful, if she only admitted it to herself—Cam probably wanted access to her, too.

  Marriageable young women were rare in the Wyoming Territory, and even rarer outside of Cheyenne. If a man wanted a bride, he’d have to take who he could find, but Serena thought that she was pretty enough. Her aunts always told her so, anyway, and she wasn’t blind to the admiring looks men seemed to send her way. Her features were plain, but her skin was clear. Everyone seemed to place so much worth on porcelain skin—which she seemed to be blessed with—but so few women actually bothered to protect themselves from the ravages of the sun. Serena made a point of always wearing bonnets and gloves, and prided herself on the fact that nary a freckle appeared on the bridge of her nose, even in the heat of summer. Her clear, smooth skin matched her hair; hair so blonde it was nearly silver. It was straight as a board, and easy enough to pull back into a bun, but nearly impossible to do anything else with, other than have it lay flat against her back. She often despaired of ever being able to wear any of the fashionable coiffures the ladies in Cheyenne wore.

  But she had to admit that Cam probably wasn’t courting her for her hair—styled or no—or even her skin. He’d known her for years, had watched her grow older. “Grow older”, rather than “grow up”, because it seemed to Serena that she’d stopped growing around fourteen; she was smaller than almost anyone she knew, besides little Annie. It was a point of irritation with Serena, since it caused people to take her less seriously. But Cam had been her neighbor for years, and it probably wouldn’t have mattered if she were thirty and buck-toothed; he’d still want to court her. He wanted the Double-S.

  The ranch had been in limbo for the last two years, since Stanley Selkirk’s death. Serena had come back to live here almost full-time, to manage it, despite her utter unsuitability to the task. But upon her twentieth birthday last week, the Double-S Ranch and all of its profits became legally hers to dispose of as she saw fit. And Cameron MacLeod was obviously hoping that meant marriage; she could marry him and combine their ranches. He would have reliable access to water, and double the size of his property.

  And she? What would she get? Well, she’d get a man to handle all of this ridiculous ranch business. All of these stupid numbers. And not just any man; Cam MacLeod was a handsome man who made her breath hitch when he smiled, who was already established and a proven businessman. A woman could look long and hard and not find a better candidate for a husband.

  Which is why Serena was able to let her mind wander through most of what he was saying now; she’d been thinking about it—about him—for months. Yes, Cameron MacLeod was prime husband material, with only one teensy problem.

  She didn’t want to marry him. She didn’t want to be stuck out here on the Double-S—or even the Open Skye—for the rest of her life. She didn’t want a husband who was almost two feet taller than her and strong enough to crush her with one hand. It didn’t matter if he’d always been gentle with her; she couldn’t help but find his size daunting.

  But what other option did she have? She had no skills, no way to support herself. She and her aunts had become used to living on the ranch’s proceeds. Why, they could barely cook for themselves, and she couldn’t imagine them cleaning a house. Thank goodness for Brixley! …whose wage was paid from the profits the Double-S brought in each year.

  She sighed. Like it or not, she was stuck with the ranch until she could come up with a better way to support herself and her aunts.

  Cam must have misinterpreted that sigh, because he sat up even straighter, if it was possible. “And I know that my father isn’t the easiest to get along with—” the understatement of the year! “—but I’m sure that he can be polite enough to welcome my wife to my home. You are…” Cam cleared his throat. “You are the most perfect woman in Laramie County. Probably the entire Territory! I would be honored if…” he cleared his throat again, and she had to repress a smile, focusing on appearing merely mildly interested. “If you would consent to my courting you.” He glanced at Agnes, still doing her napping act. “I know that your aunts aren’t your guardians anymore, but I’ll ask them too, when Miss… Agnes…? wakes up.”

  Serena couldn’t contain her smile, but she hoped it looked pleased, rather than teasing, which is how she felt. She’d heard that Cam MacLeod had once wrestled a bull determined to gore one of his cowhands, and here the man was blushing and stammering over asking to court her. It was positively silly, to think that he might be nervous about something so small.

  But despite the flattering implications, Serena couldn’t make herself agree to his suit whole-heartedly. She liked Cam, yes, and even found him attractive. He would make a wonderful husband; honest, true and devoted. But a wonderful husband to her? She still wasn’t sure. She’d spent twenty years hating being a rancher’s daughter. Did she want to spend the rest of her life as a rancher’s wife?

  And so she told him the truth, or as much of the truth as she thought he needed to hear. “I am truly flattered, Cam. You’ve been our neighbor for years, and we’ve always considered you—and your father—” God forgive her for that little white lie “—to be dear friends. We haven’t seen you nearly often enough, and I would welcome your company a bit more often.”

  Sh
e smiled sweetly at him, and his return grin was practically blinding… and made her breath short again. She hadn’t exactly given him permission to court her, but hadn’t turned him down either. Apparently, that was good enough. And my, was it getting warmer in here?

  She stood up abruptly, and crossed to the window, loosening the curtains to block out some of the June sun, and made sure to bump into her aunt’s chair. She was almost certain this was Agnes. Sleeping or pretending, it was a good time for the older woman to involve herself.

  “Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry, Aunt Agnes!” Her words were a little louder than necessary. Caesar gave an affronted yowl and jumped down from Agnes’ lap to stalk arrogantly for the foyer.

  The older woman made a point of blinking theatrically, fluttering her hands about her bosom. “Please excuse me, dear, I was just resting, and must have dropped off.” Serena’s back was to her aunt and Cam, and felt safe in rolling her eyes. The old interferer had probably been hoping to catch her niece in a bit of juicy gossip. She and her twin were always trying to out-do one another with their latest stories, even though they no longer lived in the city.

  “Oh! Serena, we have a guest! Whyever didn’t you wake me?”

  Cam was very polite, helping her aunt out of the chair and answering her questions about his health and his home. She very pointedly did not ask after his father, Serena noticed. “Well, my boy, you will be joining us for luncheon, I’m sure?” Not giving him a chance to answer, she hurried to the dining room door. “Brixley! Mr. MacLeod will be joining us for the meal!”

  “Yes’m, I figured!”

  Serena caught Cam’s small smile, and shared it with him. Despite her aunts’ background and ladylike behavior, they each hollered to Brixley like cowhands. And the old servant hollered right back.