Stunned expressions met his question. The oldest and crustiest cowboy, mashed potatoes staining his beard, tilted his head. “The rancher’s daughter in the purple dress, that’s who.”
Toby searched the crowd. She stood next to an older, distinguished man carrying on a conversation with several other suited gentlemen. “She didn’t say anything.”
The crusty cowboy squinted. “And you didn’t say nothin’ to her?”
A younger cowboy lifted his hat and smoothed back greasy hair. “Don’t care what you say, Geezer, no woman pretty as a painted wagon is gonna marry a cowpoke.”
Geezer ran a hand down his beard and licked off the mashed potatoes. “I talked to a couple of the boys who work here. Seems the gal likes cows so much she works ’em just like a hired hand. Plans on competin’, too.”
“No, what they said is they wouldn’t be surprised if she planned on competin’,” a skinny man to Toby’s left chimed in. “And just ’cause she works with cowboys don’t mean she’s like to marry one.”
Geezer tugged on his beard. “Wouldn’t be so all-fired sure of that, Needle.”
The confidence in Peltzer’s eye earlier and the conversation by the trees took on new meaning. Peltzer didn’t care who won the competition, he planned to win the rancher’s daughter.
Toby set down the pie, his appetite gone. Winning meant nothing. A foreman could be fired as fast as a hand. Security lay in being an owner. And if you couldn’t buy a ranch, you could marry into it.
He should leave before the Double L drew him back in, made him care too much. But it was too late. It had been too late the moment he recognized the hills, creeks, and cuts where thick prairie grass fell away to reveal red dirt and gray rock.
What he needed was to win the competition and keep the rancher’s daughter safe from scalawags like Peltzer because, even though this was where his family’s curse began…
It was still home.
Chapter 4
Pink light filtered through the willow branches. Nia finished her prayers, swept aside the sheltering leaves, and nearly collided with a pair of scuffed boots. A yelp escaped as she snapped her head up.
A cowboy in a red plaid shirt stepped backward and yanked off his hat. “I’m sorry, miss.”
Her fingers curled. He shouldn’t be intruding on her special place or getting so close to the main house. At the very least, he shouldn’t disarm her with his obvious discomfiture. “Can I help you with something, mister?”
Three nicks dotted his neck, two more on his shaved cheeks. Auburn hair, ends blunt-cut and ragged, hung almost to his shoulders. “Rumor is you’re the rancher’s daughter.”
Nia lowered her brows. “What’s it to you?”
“Also heard you was planning to compete. That true?” He stared over her shoulder, eyes flitting up, down, sideways.
She jutted her chin forward. “And again I ask, what’s it to you?”
He scratched the corner of his mouth. “Just wondering if I’m wasting my time, is all.”
For a heartbeat, Nia’s attention was captured by the firm set of the man’s lips—until his words connected with her brain. She gave him a frown. “Look, mister, I don’t know who you are, but I’d appreciate some privacy.”
“I’m sorry, miss. I… I haven’t spent much time with womenfolk…” He looked heavenward, like he was searching for an answer to something. “Well, except for the last nine months, but”—he shook his head—“I think I’m goin’ about this all wrong.”
Nia scratched an itch under her left eye. “Going about what?”
He turned the brim of his battered hat in circles. “Well… uh… I’m trying to figure how to ask something without getting you as riled up as a new mama protecting her calf.”
“Then why don’t you straight up ask instead of beating around the bush?”
He jammed his hat on and looked her in the eye. “You planning on marrying one of the cowboys that’s come to compete?”
All the breath left her lungs. For weeks, Papa talked about how Marigold marrying well was such a comfort. If Nia didn’t know better, she’d be tempted to think he sent out another advertisement, this time for a husband for her. “Who told you that?”
He shrugged.
Nia stomped close. “I asked you a question, cowboy.”
His eyes were green. Green with flecks of brown, and so clear she saw herself in them. Not the mistake-prone girl—or who she’d become to make up for that girlhood—but the woman she wanted to be someday.
Nia cut off the fanciful thoughts. Twelve years ago—and again a few years later—she’d indulged such nonsense. Both times it led to disaster. Had she been wiser back then, there would be no need now to choose a foreman to keep her home. She gritted her teeth and stepped close enough to smell lye soap and leather. “Who told you I planned to compete and marry?”
He held his ground, gaze pinned on her. “I overheard it at the cookout last night, miss. Seeing as how I just got here, I don’t rightly know the men’s names yet.”
She stepped back and stood tall. “What’s your name?”
His eyes widened. “We met yesterday when I registered.”
“I met about eighty cowboys yesterday. That doesn’t mean I remember everyone’s names. And judging by the fresh nicks on your face, you lost a beard between now and then.”
His fingers went to his shirt collar. He withdrew a leather strip and toyed with the medallion. It looked like a button with the center drilled out.
Something about him was… disturbing? Or familiar? Maybe both. “Did we meet before yesterday?”
He looked down at his boots. “No, miss. I been workin’ the south end of Texas probably as long as you’ve been alive.”
How old did he think she was? He appeared about thirty, but Texas aged its residents with harsh winds and hot sun. “All right, mister, I’m going to answer your questions on one condition: you leave me in peace.”
When he lifted his head, Nia lost her breath for a second time. Hunger, pain, desperation, hope—she saw it all, warring in his eyes. She wanted to reach out, touch his face, assure him that everything wrong in his world could be made right.
“Yes’m.”
She dropped her gaze, inhaled and exhaled before looking at him again. “I am the rancher’s daughter, but whom and when I plan to marry is my business.”
He bobbed his head in time with his Adam’s apple. “But you’ll be real careful about who you choose, if’n you do marry?”
“You said you’d leave me in peace. I expect you to keep your end of the bargain.” For some reason, though, she cared why it mattered to him.
“Yes’m.” To her surprise—and dismay—he turned and walked away.
Dismay? Because he didn’t search her out to turn her head with flattery? Surely she had more sense than that. “Why do you care who I marry?”
He stopped and swung around. “’Cause it matters.”
“Why?” She couldn’t read his expression. Exasperation? Surprise?
“Look, miss, I got no right to speak to you like this. I know that. But you got upwards of seventy men competing for straw boss. There are certain things we come here expecting, and number one on the list is working for your father. He’s built up a fine spread. He didn’t even have to give directions to the Double L in the newspaper advertisement ’cause everyone knows who he is and what he’s done here.”
Nia nodded like she understood what that had to do with whom she’d marry. Heat prickled across her neck and chest.
He stepped closer. “Men have given up good jobs to compete. Some of them won’t be welcomed back.” He spread his hands out. “If’n you marry someone that’s just gonna up and fire men the moment he’s in charge, well…” He gave a flick of his arms and wrists.
So it was nothing personal.
Like she’d hoped.
Fickle, traitorous heart! Had it learned nothing from past experience?
She turned on her heel and fled toward the house.
Once safe inside her bedroom, she realized she never did get the cowboy’s name.
Toby checked his saddle, rope, and pigging string. Blaze’s ears twitched at the sound of cattle. The calf roping event was in full swing, and they were up next.
They’d done this a thousand times, but this was different. Today, Toby couldn’t concentrate for seeing the rancher’s daughter in wool pants and leather chaps.
“Seventy-three!”
Toby patted Blaze’s flank. “This is it, boy.” He went to the horse’s head, grabbed the trailing reins, and headed for the starting chute. His neck burned under the glaring sun. Or maybe it was the heat of dread. Everywhere he looked, someone watched him. Any moment, he’d be recognized and run off the Double L.
Blaze nickered and pulled the reins from Toby’s hand. Spinning around, Toby saw a wild look in his horse’s eye. He grabbed the reins and slowly pulled. “Whoa, boy.”
The horse resisted, neck craning upward. He pranced sideways and bumped into a gray gelding being led the opposite direction.
“Hey! Watch it!”
Toby kept trying to calm Blaze. Nothing worked, not the repeated tongue clicks, the gentle words, or a firm hand on the reins. Blaze tugged and sidestepped, causing havoc for spectators and competitors crowded around the calf-roping pen.
A hand reached over his shoulder. “Here. Give me the reins.” It was the rancher’s daughter, and so close to his ear that Toby jerked like he’d been hit.
He glanced over his shoulder. Her brown eyes were full of confidence and something softer. Toby hesitated. “You sure you can handle him?”
She nodded.
“Okay, then.” He let go and, using his hands and eyes, checked for whatever was making the horse wild. It took about four seconds to realize the cinch was too tight. Toby pulled up on the buckle and released it. Blaze stilled, but his muscles quivered. Toby rubbed the horse’s flank and began checking for signs of injury. Nothing appeared swollen or cut.
Gentle words from the rancher’s daughter calmed Blaze’s nervousness.
Toby’s heartbeat slowed and his breathing eased with each undamaged hoof and hock. After checking all four, he returned to the horse’s head and took the reins.
“He okay?” She started her own inspection of Blaze.
Not sure if he should be offended, Toby watched her examine every part of the horse. “Someone must’ve cinched the buckle while we was walking.”
The woman bent to check. Toby had to look somewhere else.
Ten feet away, Peltzer leaned against a split-rail fence wearing a malicious grin. “Havin’ a little trouble there, Scrubby?”
Hot indignation surged through Toby. He clamped his teeth shut. Turned until the only thing he saw was Blaze’s nose. Even if Peltzer had messed with the buckle, finger-pointing without proof would start a ruckus. And the odds weren’t good: Peltzer plus ten other cowboys against Toby and a woman who’d like as not throw the first punch.
Raucous laughter pelted his back like rocks.
“He looks okay.” The feminine voice grated.
Toby bobbed his head once, pulled on Blaze’s reins, and headed for the starting chute before what was left of his temper exploded.
“You’re welcome!”
With a lift of his hand, Toby acknowledged the woman’s help and her sarcasm. “Thank you” tickled his tongue, but so did “You slimy weasel.” Best to keep his lips tight until he controlled the words.
Toby pressed down on the saddle.
Blaze swung his head around and snorted.
“Just makin’ sure there’s no burr under there that’s gonna get me bucked off before we even start.”
A leather-skinned cowboy with hair as red as a sunset met Toby at the gate. “You seventy-three?”
“Yes, sir.” Toby pulled the registration paper from his back pocket and handed it over.
The man unfolded the sheet, checked it, and then passed it to a young boy, who ran off. “Your horse okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You want to register a complaint?” He tipped the brim of his hat up and looked Toby eye to eye.
“Not without proof.”
Approval flickered in the man’s eyes. “Fair enough.”
Toby mounted, but his nervousness made Blaze toss his mane. “Yeah, yeah. I hear ya.” Toby forced himself to relax as they walked inside the starting chute. He leaned close to Blaze’s ear. “Let’s show these folks how calf roping’s done.”
He placed the pigging rope between his teeth and nodded at the cowboy holding the chute closed. Twelve seconds later, Toby and Blaze took over the top spot. He sought out the rancher’s daughter. She had a brilliant smile on her face but stood within inches of Peltzer, whose grin was now triumphant. Possessive.
Like a man who’d just won the best prize of all.
Chapter 5
The following morning, Toby arose before dawn. Blaze lifted his head from the ground. “Shh, boy. I’m off to pay my respects is all.”
Waning moonlight cast faint shadows over the landscape. Nothing stirred except the chirping cicadas. Toby headed straight to the willow tree and peeked through the trailing leaves half hoping the rancher’s daughter was inside. She wasn’t, of course, and he was three kinds of stupid for being disappointed, especially when his whole reason for getting up early was to avoid her.
Well, if she’d been there, he’d be able to find out if she’d accepted a proposal from Peltzer. That’s all he’d wanted if he saw her. Nothing more.
Yeah.
Nothing more.
As Toby slipped between the sheltering branches, holiness wrapped around his soul. He sat between two roots curled in the shape of a heart. Tears welled and spilled onto his cheeks. He let them fall. Welcomed them, because the moment deserved a proper display of emotion.
“Hi, Ma.” Toby rubbed his bare hand along the rough bark. “I’m real sorry I haven’t come sooner, but…”
Should he tell her about the life he’d led? Did she already know? She was in heaven where there were gold streets and no more tears, but could she look down and see him? “I hope you can hear me because I don’t rightly know if I’ll ever get back here.”
Regret clawed his throat. “I miss you, Ma. Something fierce. You and little Sam.”
He reached up and untied the leather strip around his neck. The pearly button glowed, despite the dim light. “I’m not sure if babies should have buttons, little brother, but it’s all I got.” He dug a hole with his fingertips. “I would’ve been good to you, Sammy, and I think our Pa might’ve been, too. He just got… I don’t know… all balled up somehow when you and Ma died. He helped me make this, you know.”
Toby laid the leather necklace into the hole and covered it with loose dirt. “We worked real hard to make sure we didn’t crack the button as we drilled out the center. It was from your Sunday go-to-meeting dress, Ma. The only thing Pa saved of yours.”
He placed his hand over the dirt mound. “I’m real sorry I couldn’t keep Pa from turning into, you know, what he turned into. I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing, but I’m pretty sure he would’ve liked to say something nice over your spot if’n he’d a got the chance.” Toby gripped the tree roots like they were his mother’s fingers. “I’m real sorry about that, too. I wish…”
Too many things.
“But that don’t matter now. What I can tell you is the folks runnin’ the Double L have turned it into something real special. Course if you can see me, you probably already know that.” Leafy shadows waltzed across the back of his hand in time with the breeze. “My chances of winning this here competition are about as slim as a spider leg, but if’n I do, I’ll make you a promise.”
Toby lifted his head and looked toward the heavens. “If by some miracle I end up hiring on at the Double L, I’ll do my level best to see it stays as fine as any place you ever wrote about in your Someday Journal.”
The vow settled something in his spirit, allowed him to stand and sa
y his good-byes.
“I love you, Ma, you and little Sammy, though I never got to know him much. I done what you told me as best I could. I go to church when I can, work my hardest, and try to honor God in everything I do. I sure would take it kindly if you’d tell Him and ask if’n there’s any way I can make up for what Pa done. I’d tell Him myself, but He don’t listen to me these days.”
Nia backed up the moment the cowboy stood. She’d been staring out her bedroom window when she saw him sneak between the willow’s trailing branches. Three minutes later, she was dressed and out the door. After tiptoeing close to the tree, she’d angled her ear toward the leaves, anxious to hear what a cowboy prayed about when he thought he was alone.
Since yesterday, respect for him had built despite their rocky first meeting. When he gave her his horse’s reins without questioning her ability, she was pleasantly surprised. His calf-roping win by a margin of six seconds took extraordinary skill. But admiration burst into full bloom when she heard his vow about keeping the Double L a fine place.
She wasn’t sure who he was talking to because she’d heard only bits and pieces, but this was her favorite place to talk with her mother, pray to God, and hope her words traveled to heaven. Tenderness for a man who sought a place to speak to his own loved one, whoever it was, seeped into her heart.
He swept through the curtain of willow branches and stood before her. His eyes went wide, his mouth opening and closing without any words coming forth.
Righteous indignation over his trespassing was long gone, taking all her accusations with it. “I… uh, I…”
He cast a guilty glance toward the tree.
Nia longed to offer comfort but couldn’t without betraying her eavesdropping. “I saw you from my window.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing his upper arm like he was cold, but said nothing.
Grasping for something to explain her presence, Nia blurted, “I was wondering if you’d partner with me for the team roping and team penning events.”
The Cowboy’s Bride Collection: 9 Historical Romances Form on Old West Ranches Page 46