The names were so absurd, she almost cracked a smile, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She passed an empty stall and stared at the mess in the corner then spun around, nearly colliding with him. “Who mucked this stall?”
“I did. Why?”
“Because it’s not clean. Just look at that horse flop in the corner.” She spun around, hands on her hips. “If you’re going to do a job halfway, you might as well not bother doing it.”
His brows lifted. “Overlooking one measly flop isn’t doing a job halfway.”
“It’s not doing it thoroughly either.” She grabbed a shovel off the far wall, marched into the stall, scooped up the offending item and carried it outside. Glancing over her shoulder, she called out, “Uncle Will always said if you’re only going to do a job partway, you might as well not do it at all.”
Brooks leaned against the barn door, more than a little irritated with Miss Fancy Britches. Her scolding reminded him of the ones he used to get at home from his pa. He didn’t know how he’d overlooked that horse flop, other than the barn had still been in shadows early this morning when he’d mucked out the stalls. He didn’t like her high-and-mighty attitude, but instead of making him angry like his pa had when he’d scolded him more than ten years ago, Keri’s tongue-lashing made him—what? Yeah, he was embarrassed and a bit irritated, but he wished he had done a better job—to prove to her that he wasn’t the lazy no-good she thought him to be.
He checked the four empty stalls for anything he might have skipped over this morning in his eagerness to get to breakfast, but things looked all right to him. He pulled the list he’d made earlier of chores that needed doing from his shirt pocket and studied it. Wood needed chopping, as always. A number of places on the house and barn needed repair. The house needed a paint job in the worse way. One porch step was loose. A window on the rear of the house was cracked and needed to be replaced. He blew out a sigh. Had there been so much to do back at his pa’s place? No wonder the man was always needling him to work. It would take one man weeks to do it all, and this list didn’t even include repairing fences that seemed an almost constant issue to be dealt with, as well as tending the cattle and the small herd of horses at Raven Creek.
Brooks searched the barn until he found a hammer and some nails, then walked to the porch. He bounced on the bottom step, listening to its creak. Upon closer inspection, he found a crack that angled across one corner. He could nail the board more securely to its brace, but eventually, it would have to be replaced. “There’s no time like today,” his pa used to say.
After prying up the loose board, he headed back to the barn to find one that he could use as a replacement. He paused and stared at the house, then allowed his gaze to rove across the closest pasture and to the barn. This all belonged to him. It was a huge responsibility, especially since he had other people to support and watch out for. His thoughts had turned to his pa numerous times in the few days he’d been at Raven Creek. For the first time in his life, he finally understood why his father had pushed him hard to pull his own weight.
He hadn’t been fair to his father. Riley Morgan was a good man, and he deserved a better son than Brooks had been. Maybe his younger brother Phillip had become that man. Brooks winced. He’d wronged his family by riding off and never letting them know what had happened. Waco wasn’t all that far from Raven Creek. Maybe it was time to make amends.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Keri pulled out a pot and smacked it down on top of the stove with a loud, satisfying clang. If her uncle was going to lose the ranch to someone, why couldn’t it have been a man who knew ranching and was efficient, not a bumbling two-bit gambler.
Moo-tilda. She shook her head at the crazy cow name but couldn’t help the grin it brought to her face. It was so ridiculous, she halfway liked it, not that she’d tell him.
She blew out a sigh at the empty bucket and grabbed the handle. The stew wouldn’t cook without water, and even though he’d promised to keep the bucket filled, there it was, empty again. If he spent as much time working as he did grinning, this place would be in spiffy shape in no time.
As she stepped onto the porch, a wagon pulled into the yard. Keri started to go back for her rifle, but then she noticed a woman sitting next to the driver. She wore a pink gingham dress with a matching sunbonnet. When she saw Keri, the woman waved. She looked familiar, but Keri couldn’t place her.
Then she glanced at the man, and her heart dropped down to her boot tips. Carl Peters. The man who wanted to be her beau, once upon a time. She had tried to discourage him on numerous occasions, but he kept coming back like a pesky rodent.
She walked across the porch, and Mr. Morgan came out of the barn. He suddenly dropped his tools and flapped his arms like chicken wings. He yelled something at the same time the buggy creaked to a halt. What was the crazy man doing?
Keri jogged down the steps to greet her guests—but her foot hit air instead of the bottom step, and she fell—flat on her face. The bucket flew through the air, colliding with the buggy’s wheel. The horse squealed and sidestepped away from her. Carl shouted. The woman screamed.
Pain knifed through Keri’s ankle, stealing her breath. Her elbow and chin hurt where they collided with the ground, and dirt filled her mouth. She lifted her head and spat it out, but had little success.
She suddenly realized just what a spectacle she’d made. Rolling over, she stared at the bottom step—or rather—where the step had been. What in the world?
Brooks slid to a halt beside her just as Carl jumped from the buggy. A man tugged on each of her arms.
“Are you all right?” they asked in unison.
“Stop pulling on me, and just let me sit here a moment.” She grabbed her ankle. It hurt, but not too horribly. The stiffness of her boots probably saved it from worse injury.
“Carl, come help me down. Perhaps I can help.” The woman from the wagon waved her hand.
Carl stared at Keri with a sympathetic gaze, then his blond brows dipped as he looked at Brooks. He stood and strode back to the buggy.
“Who’s that?” Brooks’s gaze followed Carl.
“An old acquaintance.”
Brooks grinned. “So, not a beau.”
She scowled at the ninny. “Where is my step?”
“Dead and gone. I just removed it and had returned to the barn for a slat to repair it. I was only gone a few minutes. I’m sorry, Missy. I never meant for you to get hurt.”
She leaned close. “Stop calling me that, and help me up, so I can greet my guests properly.”
He did as ordered, but that didn’t silence him. “You need to be resting that ankle, not entertaining. What if it’s broken?”
“It’s not, so hush.” Keri allowed Brooks to help her up, then leaned on his arm and found him more than secure enough to hold her up. Standing on one leg and holding her injured foot off the ground caused her to have to press against him—the one man she longed to stay away from.
But now Carl was here, and suddenly Brooks Morgan didn’t seem half as bad.
Carl escorted his sister Ellen toward them, his gaze ranging from concerned to curious. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” his sister said. “That was quite a tumble you took.”
“I’m fine, thank you. I just wasn’t aware of the fact that someone had uprooted my bottom step.”
Brooks cleared his throat. “Uh … that was my fault. I was in the middle of repairing it.”
“And who are you?” Carl asked, his brows lifted nearly to his hairline.
“Brooks Morgan.” He smiled. “I’d shake your hand but they’re full right now. I need to get Keri off her feet.”
“Perhaps we should come back another day, Carl. Miss Langston needs to rest after taking such a tumble.”
Carl frowned, then released his sister. “Just a moment, Ellen.” Keri’s pulse took off running as he approached. “Let me help get Miss Langston inside first.”
As he drew near, Keri could smell the
strong odor of his bay rum cologne. Brooks stiffened. “I can get her in the house without help.”
Offering a placating smile, Carl reached for Keri’s other hand, but Brooks stole her breath away when he lifted her into his arms. He smiled and winked. Up so close those eyes looked like the beautiful ocean water.
“Put me down,” she hissed.
“No.” He waggled his brows. “Carl, would you be so good as to open the door?”
Huffing a frustrated breath, Carl stepped up onto the second step and onto the porch. “Why don’t you hand her up to me? That would be the easiest thing.”
As much as Keri wanted out of Brooks’s arms, she wanted to be in Carl’s even less. In fact, slim as he was, she wasn’t certain he could hold her. But before she could voice her opinion, Brooks hoisted her more tightly against him and took the steps as if she weighed no more than a five-pound sack of sugar.
Carl shoved the door open, albeit not so gently, then stepped back to allow Brooks to carry her inside. Brooks carefully laid her on the sofa, but she swung around into a sitting position. Her ankle ached, but she wasn’t about to lie down in front of these two men.
Stepping inside, Carl removed his hat. “How can I help, Miss Langston?”
Keri sat straight, forcing her mind off her aches and pains. “Thank you for your offer, Mr. Peters, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
He nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. Chilly blue eyes stared back. “Ellen will be disappointed. She was looking forward to hearing about your adventures in Georgia.”
“Please give her my apology, and tell her we’ll do it another time.”
Brooks stood beside the door like a butler but she had the feeling he was more protector than servant. Carl turned and pinned a glare on him. “Just who are you?”
Grinning, he held out his hand. “Brooks Morgan.”
Carl shook his head and shrugged. “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”
“It means I’m the owner of Raven Creek.”
Cold blue eyes assessed Brooks. A muscle twitched in the man’s jaw. “If you own this ranch, why is Miss Langston still living here?”
Keri started to rise, and Brooks saw her grimace and then fall back against the sofa. “Because this is my home.”
Mr. Peters set his hat atop his head and parked his hands on his hips, brows lifted in an arch. “You mean Mr. Morgan, here, owns the ranch, but he lets you live here?”
Keri lifted her chin, but Brooks could see the uncertainty in her eyes. “What’s wrong with that? He stays in the bunkhouse with the other men.”
“I can think of a lot of people who might think the situation improper.”
Keri gasped and hopped up on her one good foot, wincing as she managed to stand. “What an awful thing to say, Carl. I would think you know me better than that.”
“Who knows how much a woman can change in two years? I don’t guess you learned much at that lady’s school if you’re still going around dressed in men’s pants.”
“And I think you need to leave.” Keri dropped back to the sofa, eyes narrowed to tiny slits.
“You heard the lady.” Brooks stepped in between Carl and Keri. “She wants you to leave her house.”
Mr. Peters snorted. “Her house. I thought you owned this place. It’s a strange set-up you have here—and not at all good for Miss Langston’s reputation.”
Brooks grabbed the man’s fancy shirt. “The situation here is just fine. Nothing improper is going on at all. Miss Langston gets to keep her home, and I own the ranch. If I find out you’re spreading rumors, you’ll answer to me. You hear?” He gave the man a shake.
Carl Peters was only an inch shorter than Brooks, but the fact that the man had to glare up at him gave Brooks plenty of satisfaction.
“I’ve planned on courting Miss Langston for many years. Just make sure you stay out of my way. I’m not a man to trifle with.” He tipped his hat at Keri. “Get some rest and get to feeling better. I’ll be back in a few days to see how you’re doing.” The man spun on his heel and exited the house.
Keri moaned, but Brooks wasn’t sure if it was from pain or the thought of Peters returning. He stood guard at the door as the man helped the woman into the buggy before stomping around to the other side. He cast another searing gaze at Brooks, then slapped the reins on his horse’s back.
Leaving the door open, Brooks turned back to Keri. She lay in the corner of the sofa, her eyes shut but her brow was pinched together. “Are you in pain?”
She nodded.
Brooks hurried to her side and lifted her injured foot onto the sofa. “We need to get that boot off. If it swells too much, it may have to be cut off.”
“No!” Keri’s pretty blue eyes pierced him. “Uncle Will gave them to me.”
He knew without her saying that the boots were special. “All right. I’ll see if I can get it off. It might hurt a little.”
She nodded and bit her lower lip.
Brooks stared at her thin leg, hesitant to touch her. But he couldn’t help her if he didn’t. He knelt on the floor in front of the sofa, wrapped her leg under his arm, and tugged on her boot. She hissed, but remained quiet. It looked like the ankle had swollen, but he had good hopes it wasn’t broken, because she’d be screeching if it was. He took a firmer hold of her leg and the boot and pulled harder. The boot loosened and broke free. He dropped it on the floor and removed Keri’s sock. The ankle was swollen, for certain, but it didn’t look oddly shaped or broken. He blew out a sigh of relief.
“That hurt.” Keri’s voice cracked, and he turned in time to see her swipe her eyes.
“Sorry, but it had to come off.”
“I know.” She exhaled a sigh. “Do you think you could turn loose of my leg now?”
Brooks glanced down and realized her leg was still under his arm, and he’d been gently massaging the area just above the injury. He dropped it and jumped up, heat marching up his neck. “Sorry.”
A soft smile lifted the corners of Keri’s lips. “It actually felt good.” But fast as a snap of someone’s fingers, the smile faded. “Why didn’t you warn me that you’d removed that step?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, then shrugged and shook his head. “ ’Cause I just didn’t think about it. I’d just pulled up the step and headed to the barn to find a replacement when that buggy drove up and you came out of the house. I’d planned to repair it right away, but you were too fast for me.”
Keri wiggled her foot. “It’s just a sprain. Should be good as new in a few days.”
Brooks relaxed, but he still felt awful. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
“No, but if you could fetch the bucket I dropped and fill the pot on the stove, I’d be beholden to you. I need to get some beans cooking.”
Glad to have something to do, Brooks backed toward the front door. “Like I said before, I’m real sorry about this, and I hope you aren’t hurt too bad.”
She waved a hand in dismissal, and he scurried outside, feeling lower than a rat’s belly. He found the bucket lying in the yard, pounded it hard against the porch rail a few times to loosen the dust and grass, and headed to the well. The well bucket made a splash, but when he hauled it up, the pail was only a little over half full. He poured the water into Keri’s bucket and dropped it down again.
He gazed up at the brilliant blue sky with not a cloud in sight. They needed rain. Nate had told him the creek was starting to dry up, and there sure wasn’t enough water in the well to satisfy a thirsty herd of cattle. A crow cawed overhead, and he glanced up again. “Lord, if’n You’ve a mind to send rain, we sure could use some.”
When he returned to the house, he knocked, even though he’d left the door open. He stepped inside, and Keri was balancing beside the sofa on one foot. He set down the bucket and hurried toward her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I—well—” She turned her head toward the wall. “This old sofa is hard, and things are poking my—”
<
br /> Brooks tried hard not to grin. “Would you like me to take you to your bedroom?”
Her head jerked back, cheeks flaming. “Don’t you dare laugh. This is all your fault anyway.”
“You’re right. I should have told you that I’d removed the step, but I thought you were still upset after our talk in the barn. I didn’t want to disturb you and thought I could finish the job before anyone noticed.”
She gazed up at him, looking so alone and vulnerable. “I guess you could help me to my room.”
He smiled, then hoisted her up in his arms.
“Hey, I said help.”
“Trust me, this is the least painful way.” He carried her into the other room and looked around the kitchen. An empty pot sat on the stove and some carrots, two onions, and a bowl of unpeeled potatoes sat on the worktable. Looked like they’d be having stew tonight. Fine by him.
The only door led to the outside, and he glanced at Keri’s face. It was so close he could see a faint line of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and her vivid eyes held his gaze. Brooks swallowed hard. If he kept staring at her, he would end up kissing her. He spun around so fast, Keri grabbed his shoulders with both hands. “Where is your room?”
“Upstairs.” She batted her eyes and gave him an innocent smile. “Sure you want to carry me?”
Ignoring her snide comment, he hustled through the parlor and up the stairs that hugged the wall, swallowing back a grunt. Keri’s floral scent washed over him. Every muscle in his body was tense, and though she was small and light, carrying her up a mess of stairs still winded him. And how was she going to get back down if she needed to?
At the landing, Keri pointed to the door to the left. Inside was a beautiful room—definitely a female’s room—painted a pale green, with white curtains fluttering in the breeze. He set her down on her bed and stepped back, feeling more uncomfortable than the time he accidentally walked into a house of ill repute when he was running an errand for his employer. He backed into the hall. “I’ll—uh—be—uh—downstairs. Holler if you need me.”
End of the Trail Page 7