Love on the Range: A Looking Glass Lake Prequel

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Love on the Range: A Looking Glass Lake Prequel Page 4

by Rebecca Nightsong


  She had to run to catch up with him.

  “This whole cattle drive thing is news to me. I signed on to be a line cook. Do you know what that means?”

  He finally turned around and looked down at her.

  “It does NOT mean I’m in charge of a crazy kitchen on wheels in the middle of a cow field. It means I’m in charge of one station, and that’s it. But I’m a classically trained chef, and I have the chops to be your head chef for the trail if that’s what this cattle drive needs.”

  “You angling for a raise?” His eyes glittered, and even though he didn’t move a muscle, she had the feeling he’d just squared off to face her down.

  Marlee snorted. “I’m angling for some good communication for a change. You brought me out here as a line cook. If you want me as your head chef, to run the whole kit and caboodle on the cattle drive, then let’s discuss it. But you’ll have to pay me accordingly. That’s only fair.”

  “We have a head chef,” he said stiffly.

  Wow. A spark whizzed up her spine. He was a lot taller up close. Under the shadow of his hat, his black eyes looked nearly purple.

  She sure wouldn’t want to be his enemy. But still, the man knew nothing about professional kitchens and how they should be run.

  “Well, I’m not gonna be pushed around by some cowboy. I don’t care if you are the head foreman. The head chef is my boss. I demand to meet her in person before we leave.”

  Before he had a chance to answer, a tall man came out of the barn.

  The moment he stepped into the sunlight, all activity on the ranch halted.

  Even dogs lying in the shade seemed to pant more quietly.

  Marlee sucked in a breath. Maybe this guy was the owner. Maybe she was finally going to meet someone in charge—someone other than Jett.

  “Logan,” Jett grunted. “Meet Marlee Donovan. Marlee, Logan Paycoach.”

  Logan stuck his hand out, but his eyes were dull and distracted. Like he wasn’t really seeing her.

  “Nice to meet you.” She smiled but nothing changed in his vacant look. It was as if she’d dropped a pebble into a pond and stood waiting for ripples that never happened.

  “How’s it going?” Jett asked.

  Logan’s face fell.

  Jett put his arm around the other man’s shoulders.

  Marlee took a step back. The two men were standing right there. Neither had moved, but she felt invisible to them.

  “It’s bad,” Logan said. He kept his eyes on the ground, face hidden under the brim of his hat. “She’s still not waking up. Austin’s okay, but we’re afraid we’re gonna lose—” His voice choked off.

  The skin on the back of her neck prickled. Something awful was happening to this family.

  “Mom’s falling apart—” Logan stopped again.

  “I’ve got this,” Jett said. His voice was low. “You need to stay with your family.”

  Marlee peered down at her boots. Already, a film of dust covered them so the rhinestones barely winked out at her.

  Logan nodded. “I can’t do that,” he said. “You’ll be short three full teams.”

  Jett cleared his throat. “I’ll handle it.”

  He put his hand on Logan’s shoulder, and bowed his head and began to pray. “Lord, we don’t understand why this is happening, but we know You love us and we need Your help.”

  Marlee froze in place. Jett’s prayer was simple. Straight-forward. Unashamed.

  She wasn’t used to people praying aloud for her, though it would feel nice.

  Inside, she prayed with them.

  After the prayer, Jett and Logan drifted into the barn.

  And then Jett came back out, alone. Like always, he was a man on a mission.

  “You can’t meet the woman who hired you,” he said as he stalked past Marlee. “She’s in critical care.”

  Marlee blinked. That’s the woman they were talking about? The woman they’d prayed for?

  Cassie Paycoach was in Intensive Care?

  Marlee hurried to catch up with him.

  “You could have told me.”

  “I just did.”

  “Yeah, but I mean before, when—”

  …when she hadn’t yet made a fool of herself?

  But she couldn’t argue with the look he gave her.

  Now was not the time to stand around talking about who should have done what.

  “Is there anything I can do to help them?”

  “You can get your tail end up in that chuck wagon and hit the trail.”

  She frowned.

  “Right now, we got a late start going, and the only hold-up is you.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  At first, Marlee tried sitting up front, squeezed onto the hard wooden seat between Crazy Hoss and Fern.

  As the wagon jolted over ruts and rocks, every bump bruised her tail bone. It was awfully hard to concentrate on what Fern and Crazy Hoss were saying.

  They were telling her all about chuck wagons and ranching history and about how lots of ranches like the Paycoach’s still used horses and authentic chuck wagons when running their cattle.

  “It’s a lot less stressful on the cattle to have horses herding them,” Crazy Hoss said.

  The wagon hit something in the road, and pain shot through Marlee’s spine. Had anyone ever thought about how stressful chuck wagons were on humans?

  “Some ranches use ATVs to herd, but that stresses the cattle,” Fern added.

  “Stressed cattle means skinnier cattle,” Crazy Hoss said. “And then the ranch loses money.”

  “But surely you could drive one of those food trucks up here for cooking,” Marlee said. “I could easily feed an army out of one of those things, and you wouldn’t have to use it to herd cattle.”

  Crazy Hoss chuckled. “Them things are expensive. Besides, trail cookin’ doesn’t need to be complicated. And we like the chuck wagon. It’s a tradition.”

  Who in their right mind would enjoy a tradition that was full of so much punishment and pain? Her rear end was aching so badly, she finally crawled into the back and settled onto the bedrolls. They were piled nearly to the canvas roof, so she sat with her neck hunched over, grabbing onto anything to steady herself as the wagon rumbled along.

  Marlee couldn’t imagine either of her sisters in this situation. Maybe she should have given her career in accounting one more shot.

  “Tell me about the Paycoach family.”

  “That’s a sad story if there ever was one,” Fern said. She shook her head, eyes tearing up. “Silas and Thelma Paycoach knew they were made for each other since they were old enough to compete against each other in the mutton-busting competition. They built this ranch up and raised a family. Six of the finest young men around and two amazing girls. And now, Thelma had to bury her husband last week and her youngest girl is in the hospital and won’t wake up.”

  Marlee stared outside, where bright sunshine splintered the mountain ridges with dancing fall colors. It was hard to imagine grief so terrible in a world this beautiful. “What happened?”

  Fern shrugged. “Plane crash,” she said. “Austin was flying the plane. He’s Silas and Thelma’s middle boy. He runs the only airport around here. Normally takes up hunters or charters folks from the Boise airport.”

  “That’s why my charter flight from Boise was canceled,” Marlee gasped.

  Fern nodded.

  “Was he okay?”

  “Yeah. Broke his leg and a few places in his back. Doctors say he might not walk again. But he and Cassie were lucky to survive.”

  So far.

  Marlee shivered. The words shadowed the air, unspoken.

  “Austin said his equipment malfunctioned. Had to make an emergency landing. Thelma refuses to leave Cassie’s side. Matt, West and Logan are doing their best to keep the ranch going, but they spend most of their time at the hospital, too. And Jaxson has a newborn at home and a sick wife.”

  “Jett’s stepped up to run this place,” Crazy Hoss said. “That’s
a fine cowboy right there. The kind of man I’d be proud to ride the river with any day.”

  Marlee bit her cheek to keep from snorting. “He sure doesn’t talk much,” she said.

  “When Jett picked you up from the train station, I’ll bet he didn’t tell you this was going to be a cattle drive.” Fern’s eyebrows rose.

  “No,” Marlee said, her voice clipped. “He didn’t.”

  Crazy Hoss cackled. “Don’t expect he would.”

  “He didn’t tell me I was going to have to cook in a chuck wagon, either,” Marlee retorted.

  “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 tha
t 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.

 

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