Love on the Range: A Looking Glass Lake Prequel

by Rebecca Nightsong

  * * *

  Marlee lugged a pail of boiling water into the tent, mixed it with cold water and started on the dishes.

  “Should have let me get that for you.” Jett ducked inside the tent and crossed to the table. With his free hand, he opened the cupboard, looking for another dishpan.

  Marlee stepped in front of him, and closed the cupboard firmly. “Not tonight,” she said. “You’re an injured man.”

  She looked up at him, caught in his eyes.

  They stood close. Too close. Close enough that warmth from his body radiated against hers. Something quivered in her stomach and squeezed at the breath in her lungs. She ducked her head and scurried around him, back to the dishes.

  “I’m alive thanks to you.”

  Marlee swallowed a chuckle.

  “Let me in on the joke.” A smile waited at the corners of his mouth.

  “My dad,” Marlee said. “When I left for this job, he said not to come back until I was ready for a serious career.”

  Jett’s eyes flashed and his nostrils flared. “I don’t see the humor,” he growled.

  She put a hand on his arm, stroking lightly as if calming Calamity. “I keep wondering if he’d think saving a life is serious enough,” she murmured. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Her muscles ached, bruised by the grueling trail and the merciless doses of adrenaline she’d endured. But here she was, thinking about disappointing her dad.

  Jett reached out for her, tugging her toward him. “It’s serious,” he said. He smoothed a curl that had stuck to her cheek.

  His touch calmed her. A kind of quiet expectancy washed over her.

  “So seriously, thank you.” His voice came to her, soft in the golden light of the tent.

  He let go of her hand then and moved next to her, leaning against the table.

  Marlee swallowed, her throat dry. He made her feel like a success instead of Marlee the Mistake and General Disappointment.

  “For what? Burnt beans?” She put her hands back in the dishwater, so he wouldn’t see how badly they were shaking.

  His smile was quick, the dimple peeking out.

  Marlee looked down at her hands, focusing on the bubbles in the dishwater.

  “Thank you,” he said again. “I can’t say it enough.””

  She flushed. “You’re a cowboy. You’d have found some way to get out of that fix.”

  He just looked at her for a long time. He scooted closer.

  “Some fixes are easier to get out of than others.”

  She laughed, but his gaze was serious.

  He was relaxed and in no hurry, letting his eyes drift over her face, up to her hair, and back down to her lips. He moved like he had when he’d ridden toward her on Fat Cat earlier that day…relaxed and fluid.

  But her heart skittered even worse than Calamity had when she’d choked up on the reins.

  Shadows danced on the walls of the cook tent from the golden fire flickering outside.

  Jett tipped his head and leaned toward her and Marlee forgot how to breathe.

  Was he going to kiss her?

  He pressed his thumb in the indent of her chin. It was the gentlest of touches. Her eyes drifted closed. But then she popped them back open real fast, blood whooshing in her ears.

  “Some fixes a man might not want to get out of,” he said. He searched her eyes then, and her head fell back as he stepped even closer.

  His eyes danced with fire flicker and his dimple hinted at flirtation, but those black eyes held her with their intensity.

  “Honey, you got more of that—” Fern broke in through the tent door. “Oh.” She stopped when she saw them. “If you’re having a moment in here, I don’t want to interrupt.” She chuckled and started to back out.

  But Jett turned and strode toward the door, leaving Marlee stunned.

  “No, ma’am,” he said. He paused by Fern and looked down at her. “Nothing to interrupt. Better get you some more of those apple dumplings. Might even cure that sciatica of yours.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  For the rest of the cattle drive, Jett was the perfect gentleman. The perfect gentleman boss.

  No more hints at flirtation. Unless she counted the daily evening ritual of pouring her a spiced hot chocolate after helping her with the dishes.

  But that might be his way of being a good trail boss, just trying to keep employee morale up.

  But Jett hadn’t poured anyone else hot chocolate.

  Not that she’d had much time or energy to think about it. Riding every day was more brutal than she’d anticipated. Today, she and Fern rode drag, following behind the herd and watching for stragglers.

  “How does it feel to survive your first cattle drive?” Fern called out when they topped the last crest. She pulled her horse to a stop and turned around in the saddle.

  Marlee scooted Calamity up next to Fern and stopped, too.

  Below, a bellowing tide of cattle streamed down the gravel road, dust swirling over them. Beyond that, the ranch buildings nestled in the valley below, waiting for eager cowpokes to return.

  “It feels like I’ll need to sleep for a whole month,” Marlee said.

  Fern laughed and they moved forward again. “That’s how I felt on my first cattle drive, too.”

  Calamity’s ears pricked and she lifted her head and quickened her pace.

  Marlee chuckled and leaned forward to rub the mare’s neck. “I’m excited to get home, too,” she murmured.

  Jett rode just ahead of them. She heard his distinctive “hiyah” and the cattle moved faster, too. Was he anxious to get home?

  “I’ll bet he’s got some mixed feelings,” Fern said. She nodded in Jett’s direction.

  Marlee swallowed a lump. As the cattle drive had gone on, worry had spread throughout camp. They weren’t finding nearly as many cattle as in years past.

  Then, on the last night, the men had come across a makeshift corral with signs of cattle and horses. When the men got back to camp that night, Jett had said it was rustlers. They’d been there a few weeks before the cattle drive had started, and had swooped in. Jett said he guessed they’d stolen over forty head of cattle.

  At over one-thousand dollars a head at the cattle sale, that meant a big loss for the Paycoach ranch.

  By the time they pulled into the Paycoach ranch, pretty much everyone was relieved that the drive was over, and feeling unsettled about the loss of so many cattle.

  The men worked to secure the cattle in their winter pastures, and then headed to the barns to put up the horses.

  “You go ahead and get dinner on,” Fern said. “I’ll take care of Calamity.”

  Marlee didn’t waste time arguing. Sore and tired as she was, she headed to her kitchen on stiff legs that had grown more accustomed to riding than walking.

  Stepping inside, she ran her hands lightly over the shining surfaces. If her arms were big enough, she’d hug the big ovens. She’d never been so happy to see a modern kitchen in her life.

  This was her kitchen. Her very own…at least until her new boss came back from the hospital. Whenever that was going to happen.

  After feeding the tired and hungry crew, maybe she’d have time to check and see how Cassie was doing.

  She said a quick prayer for Cassie and the Paycoach family and then started in with dinner preparation.

  As she sliced potatoes, Marlee glanced out the long low windows. She loved the view from this kitchen. She could prepare meals and still feel a part of what was going on around the barn and corrals.

  Outside, Logan Paycoach and Jett stood talking near the barn. Jett put his hand on Logan’s shoulder. The two men bowed their heads. They were praying again.

  She hadn’t been at the ranch long. In fact, she hadn’t met any of the large Paycoach family except for Logan. The family spent nearly all their time at the hospital with Cassie, and only Logan was at the ranch when the cattle drive had returned home. But she could tell by the talk around the ranch that the family was very
close. This had to be painful for them.

  She had scalloped potatoes and ham in the oven, and a green salad prepped in no time. She was pouring brownie batter into large sheet pans when the mess hall door opened, and cowboy boots clumped on the wooden floors toward the kitchen.

  She had her back to the door, but whoever had entered was miles ahead of dinnertime.

  “You’re early, cowboy,” she sang out. “Dinner’s not for another hour, so tell your pals they’ll have to stay out of my kitchen, no matter how good it smells.”

  She popped the brownies into the oven, and turned around, wiping her hands on the towel tucked into her apron.

  The smile melted off her face.

  Jett leaned against the stainless steel counter behind her, arms crossed and face weary.

  She didn’t ask what was wrong. She was starting to understand this man. When something was wrong, he needed time to think about it. When he was ready, he’d talk.

  Why in heaven’s name he’d come to her kitchen to think about it, she had no idea.

  But she was glad he had.

  She’d finished her work for dinner, but he could help her prep for tomorrow’s hash browns.

  “Here.” She shoved a bag of potatoes in his hand and a peeler.

  He gave her a blank look, raised brows questioning.

  She shrugged and gave him a small smile. “Sometimes life doesn’t feel so bad if you focus on something small like peeling a potato.”

  He nodded, his face still serious. Then he turned to the sink, and got busy peeling.

  They worked in silence for a minute, except for the skitch of the potato peeler.

  Marlee finished a batch of fudge frosting and put it in the refrigerator to cool. She grabbed a towel to dry her hands.

  “Cassie’s gone,” he finally said.

  “Oh, no.” Marlee dropped the towel, tears springing up.

  Jett set the potato peeler on the counter, and turned toward her, eyes bleak. “I can’t—” He looked down, the brim of his hat blocking her view of his eyes. “I’ve worked here almost my whole life,” he said, his throat working. “They’re my family. And Logan said I’ve got to run this place for a while. Said he and Matt….”

  Marlee swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. What could she say to him? What comfort could she possibly offer?

  Jett looked up then, those black eyes sharp with pain. “I haven’t told them about the cattle loss yet. How do you say to a man who just lost his dad and sister in the space of a few weeks that he lost half of his cattle, too? That he might lose his ranch, too? It’s—it can’t come in the same conversation.”

  Silently, Marlee prayed, asking God for the right words of comfort. But no words came. Maybe this wasn’t the time for words of any kind.

  God, please comfort him.

  She took the half-peeled potato out of his hand and put her arms around him. He wasn’t wearing his sling any longer, but she moved gently, so she wouldn’t jar his ribs. She laid her cheek against his chest.

  For a moment, he stood there. And then he put his arms around her, too. Uncertain at first, but then he pulled her tight and rested his chin on her head, the stubble from his chin stinging her scalp through her hair.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  During the next few weeks, Marlee settled into a rhythm.

  After serving breakfast to the men, she spent the rest of the morning prepping for lunch and dinner. And after serving lunch, she had a few hours to herself.

  Sometimes she went into town and had pie at the Moose Dimple Café with Crazy Hoss and Annie and Fern’s shy daughter, Meg Aimstock. Sometimes Fern was there, if Mustang Sally’s had a lull in customers. Fern had even roped her into a few matches of Boggle since Fern was preparing for a Boggle tournament at the senior center.

  Sometimes, she hiked the slopes near the ranch, telling herself that bears were tucked away in their dens because snow had already dusted the pines and aspens with its lacy ice.

  And during all of that time, Jett seemed to avoid her. Since she’d put her arms around to comfort him, he hadn’t come to the kitchen. Not once.

  He’d hugged her—really held onto her like a drowning man with a raft. But after that, he almost avoided her. At least on the trail, he’d helped with dishes and poured her spicy hot chocolate. They’d shared danger and victory. He’d taught her about riding. And she’d learned from him.

  Although they hadn’t talked much out there, they’d come to an understanding. They shared something that felt real.

  But now? Now, it just felt odd.

  Last week at the funeral, the little town had put Cassie in the frozen ground next to her father while snow swirled around Thelma, Matt, Logan, West, Austin, Jaxson and Cheyenne. Jett stood behind Logan, looking like a bodyguard in a cowboy hat, as if he could defend the family against anything.

  But inside, he had to be feeling so frustrated that there wasn’t anything he could do to protect them from the most painful suffering they endured right now.

  She missed him. Missed their companionship while riding for rogue cattle. Missed their conversations over dishes and missed sharing hot chocolate with him. But she couldn’t blame him.

  The Paycoach family didn’t own grief over the loss of Silas and Cassie. It was Jett’s sorrow as well.

  Marlee sighed and set her Bible on the gleaming stainless steel counter and then started the coffee.

  The door opened, and Marlee heard boots.

  It was early for a cowboy to be inside. It wasn’t breakfast time yet. She’d barely set the coffee on for herself, and outside, stars still shone.

  Her heartbeat quickened. Maybe it was Jett.

  But it was Logan Paycoach. Haggard lines and dark circles carved grief deeply into his face.

  “We’re out of coffee down at the house,” he said.

  “Sure,” she said. She scurried to the kitchen to grab a mug. She paused a moment. Should she bring two mugs out? Her southern sense of hospitality told her to sit down and share coffee with the man.

  But he was her boss, and he was grieving. And he was a busy man. Maybe he just wanted to take it with him and get on with his day. She peeked around the corner. He was sitting down, cowboy hat on the table next to him, his face in his hands.

  She grabbed two mugs, the cream and sugar and the whole pot of coffee.

  When she poured the coffee, he took it immediately and nearly downed the full mug, so she topped it off again before pouring her own.

  “That was the first honest-to-goodness cattle drive I’ve ever been on,” she said.

  It was a good place to start a conversation. If he didn’t want to talk, he could let it stand.

  Logan tried to smile, but the effort made him look even more tired.

  Poor guy apparently wasn’t sleeping well.

  “You own this place, so I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I burned every dinner for the first three days,” she said. “I’m not used to Dutch oven cooking.”

  He laughed, and at least a little light came into his eyes before flickering out.

  Marlee chuckled. She could hardly believe she was confessing her shortcomings to the man who would decide whether she would be hired for the job.

  But the cattle drive had changed her. Jett’s gentle way with horses reflected his light touch with the crew.

  Including her.

  His easy-going attitude about her burning the food had dissolved her pride.

  In fact, everyone had been good-natured, refusing to tease or make any comments. Instead, they’d given her time to figure it out.

  “I finally got the hang of it,” she said. “After Jett had mercy on me and showed me how to use Dutch ovens.”

  “I hear Cassie brought you here for a working interview of sorts. You work a while and then she’d decide whether to keep you on?”

  “Yeah.” Marlee looked down into her coffee.

  “How long?”

  “It was supposed to be a two week trial,” she said. />
  “You should have said something.”

  She shrugged. “Decisions about my future didn’t seem very important when….”

  …when they’d just buried Cassie and Silas.

  Logan cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said, his voice roughened with emotion.

  “Thanks for the coffee,” he said. “Coffee’s a great kindness when sleep is hard to come by.”

  He jammed his hat on and strode toward the door.

  Pausing, he turned to look at her.

  “You deserve a decision,” he said. “I’ll let Jett know. It’ll be his call.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The timer buzzed, and Marlee swallowed a few butterflies as she peeked into the oven.

  The bubbling cobbler teased her taste buds.

  Perfection.

  Carefully, Marlee slid it out of the oven. Crisp golden edges oozed with caramelized peachy goodness, and across the middle of the cobbler, the pillowy cloud of dough boasted a buttery-sweet golden shell.

  During her last year in culinary school, Marlee had perfected her peach cobbler recipe. The secret ingredient she’d used made it knock-down drag-out good, even by southern cobbler standards. It had won several awards in contests, and it was the only dish she’d made in culinary school that had been a clear home run. The only one she’d been truly proud of.

  Marlee filled a tray with servings of the hot cobbler, and then scooped out some of her own homemade vanilla-bean ice cream for each dish.

  She had to work hard to keep her feet from dancing in glee as she carried the tray to the cafeteria where the cowboys waited patiently for their dessert.

  She served Jett first.

  “Since you’ve got a tough decision to make about hiring me, I thought I’d sweeten you up with my famous signature dish.” She laughed as she set his plate down. “It’s won awards. I call it ‘Mad Marlee’s Peach Cobbler.’ It will prove why I’m the only chef for the job.”

  Jett nodded, his face serious.

  “Mad Marlee,” Buck chuckled. “That’s about right.”