The Wrangler's Inconvenient Wife

by Lacy Williams

  After several hours of hard rain, the weather had finally cleared just before sunset. It had given them a beautiful rainbow-colored sky. He’d found himself wondering what Fran thought of it, then shook the errant thought of her away.

  He might’ve lost his focus earlier that afternoon, but he couldn’t let it happen again.

  Kissed her. He’d kissed her.

  In all the dramatics following his rescue of Emma, he’d forgotten about it until Fran had confronted him.

  He might like her, but it didn’t mean things were going to change.

  He had a job to do, and losing focus could mean someone would get hurt or the cattle didn’t get to the buyer on time.

  He couldn’t fail his pa.

  And he didn’t dare risk trusting his heart to a woman.

  So he’d been hiding with the cattle all night.

  The cook pot was kitty-corner to the wagon and looked like it might have a bit left for him. All he had to do was go get it and slink back into the shadows before Fran saw him.

  Except when he was ladling the savory-smelling stew into his bowl, he heard a sniffle from around the side of the wagon.

  Was Emma upset again?

  He’d known women, especially young women, needed reassuring, but this was getting to be a bit much....

  He peered around the corner of the wagon. It wasn’t Emma crying softly into her apron. It was Fran.

  Fran, who’d suffered in silence while he’d asked her to do things she’d never done before in her life, like driving the wagon and cooking for twelve men.

  Was crying.

  He must’ve made some noise, because she looked up. The firelight behind him reflected off the tears on her cheeks.

  Another woman might’ve turned to him, wanted him to see her pain or even fix it, but Fran turned away, ducking behind the other end of the wagon.

  Aw, snakeskin.

  He couldn’t just leave her.

  He closed his eyes briefly, then made his way around the wagon, leaving his supper behind.

  Fran wasn’t curled up in a little ball, like he might’ve expected.

  She was standing tall—still didn’t reach his chin, she was so tiny—and wiping her face with the edge of her shawl. Pretending, with a smile, that she was fine.

  “You all right?” she asked. “You’ve had a long day in the saddle. How’s your hand?”

  He waved it at the silly woman. All his fingers moved like they were supposed to, even if his hand was still sore and swollen.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. He leveled a look on her, trying to send her a silent message that he wasn’t going to take any nonsense answer.

  “Oh.” She laughed a little, but it sounded too much like a sob to be real. “Just having...a moment. I didn’t want Emma to hear.”

  Her eyes flickered briefly to his face. “Coddling her again,” she amended.

  If she was trying to throw him off the track, it hadn’t worked.

  He let his hand close over her elbow, even though he knew he shouldn’t touch her. “Fran,” he warned.

  That was when her chin tilted down, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

  “I’m just second-guessing myself,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” he prompted, when she didn’t continue.

  She took a tiny breath. Another. Then answered, “Things I might’ve done differently. What if I’d been more proactive finding work in Memphis? Emma and I could’ve been long gone from the finishing school when Underhill came calling.”

  “Or you’d have been completely on your own,” he felt compelled to point out.

  She wiped her face again.

  “Why couldn’t that monster have been attracted to me instead?”

  He laughed at the absurdity of her words. “You can’t be serious. You’d rather have a lunatic like that coming after you?”

  “Better me than Emma,” she returned stubbornly.

  She stepped away, leaving his hand to fall away from her elbow. “Look at me,” she demanded.

  “I am looking,” he said over the lump that rose in his throat, half choking him. Her fierceness drew him. He should leave, but he couldn’t make his feet work right.

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  Nothing, far as he could tell.

  “Tim didn’t want to marry me. You don’t want to be married to me.”

  She’d worked herself up into a fine fit now, eyes sparking and hands gesticulating in front of her.

  “There must be something wrong with me,” she concluded.

  If there was, he couldn’t see it. That was his problem—he liked her, was attracted to her. And he shouldn’t have been. Hadn’t his past taught him anything?

  But her words stirred up the unwelcome reminder of something he hadn’t had time to talk to her about earlier.

  “You said you wouldn’t lie to me,” he reminded her, closing in on her and taking her upper arms in his hands. Her eyes widened as she recognized the gravity of his tone and expression.

  “Y-yes.”

  “Did that Tim fella ever kiss you?”

  He saw the answer in her eyes, but waited for the minute shake of her head—barely—before he lowered his head to hers.

  He crashed into the kiss like she’d crashed into his life, upending everything in his ordered world.

  She met him sweetly, passionately. Her arms clung to his shoulders. One hand even snuck up to the back of his neck and buried itself in his tangled hair. She knocked into the back of his hat brim, and that small shift brought him back to his senses.

  He set her away from him, untangling her arms from around him.

  Her eyes were big, luminous in the moonlight.

  “Don’t say that was a mistake,” she whispered, lips trembling.

  He mashed his hat down on his head. Clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her again.

  “It has to be,” he said.

  And turned and walked out into the darkness.

  Chapter Ten

  Fran was awake long before the cowboys began rolling out of their bedrolls, their murmurs soft in the semidarkness.

  She let Emma sleep for a bit longer and crept out of the wagon.

  She had no desire to see her husband, so she snuck through the dew-wet grasses to find a bit of privacy. Even though he’d told her not to go off alone. She needed a moment to herself.

  The sun was a slip of orange light on the horizon, and she watched it grow. The fields all around her remained cloaked in gray as the sky’s blue lightened. A line of low-lying clouds at the horizon turned gold.

  Bright white light slid into the growing blue in the sky and then began to slide in golden rays across the prairie, turning the green grass golden at its dewy tips. Spreading. Spreading.

  Illuminating everything.

  Illuminating her.

  She glanced behind her to make sure no one was around.

  She was utterly humiliated.

  Edgar had come to her the night before. Had kissed her breathless.

  And apparently found her wanting.

  She didn’t want to go back to the cowboy camp. Didn’t want to drive that wagon all day, her shame visible to everyone.

  How could she have kissed him back?

  She was falling for him, that was how.

  He’d given her the protection of his name, offering her only that.

  But in reality, giving so much more. He’d taken her and Emma in, given her a chance to prove herself on the cattle drive.

  Helped her in getting away from what was chasing her.

  Rescued Emma.

  He was so much more than the aloof cowboy he pretended to be.

  And she coul
dn’t help admiring him, couldn’t help wishing things could have been different. That they’d met under different circumstances.

  That he was really attracted to her.

  He’d certainly seemed to be, in the throes of that passionate kiss, but...

  She froze, her swirling thoughts coalescing into one.

  On the afternoon they were married, he’d said and she’d overheard several comments that indicated he never planned to marry. She knew he didn’t trust women, but she did not know the reason why.

  What if he was attracted to her? Even liked her?

  But was still wary.

  She’d been reacting to the circumstances in her life for what seemed so long. Her parents’ deaths, Daniel’s desertion. Then spiriting Emma away from Underhill’s reach.

  What if she were proactive in...well, courting her husband?

  What if she could make him fall in love with her? Or at the very least, realize that she could offer him a comfortable home, companionship. Friendship. Reasons they should stay together.

  Time was not on her side. She’d overheard some of the cowboys the night before say they should reach Tuck’s Station later that day. That only left a day or so for him to finish the sale of the cattle before he tried to settle her and Emma in Calvin.

  Could she change his mind in such a short time?

  She didn’t know, but she had to try. Didn’t she?

  * * *

  “Ricky ain’t happy.”

  Matty spoke in a low, concerned tone. Most of the other cowboys had left after they consumed their breakfasts, but some remained close, saddling up for the start of another long day.

  Add him to the list of people who were unhappy with Edgar. Fran couldn’t be thrilled with him either, not after how he’d treated her the day before. Confusing her. Confusing the both of them.

  Tuck’s Station couldn’t arrive fast enough.

  “He tell you why?” Edgar asked finally, curiosity getting the better of him.

  “No. He’s keeping to himself, real suspicious.”

  Edgar nodded. “You think he’ll finish the job?”

  Matty squinted beneath the brim of his Stetson. He chewed on a piece of grass, the thin green line bobbling between his lips when he spoke. “He knows someone’s following us. He ain’t gonna leave you in danger. Possible danger.”

  Edgar wasn’t so sure his brother’s loyalty was to him, not after the last aborted conversation they’d had. “He owes it to Pa to do right by the cattle. We all do.”

  Matty’s eyes shifted over to him. His brow was furrowed. “Pa didn’t take us in to count some kind of debt.”

  “I know.”

  “You sure?”

  Matty’s pointed question made Edgar look away, watching the last of the cowboys swing up into the saddle.

  Jonas had never asked Edgar to work on the homestead, now the growing ranch. He hadn’t had to. Edgar had wanted to pay back his adoptive pa for taking him in and giving him a home when no one else would. Jonas had given him a place to lay his head, love, support, everything.

  It mattered. And that was why Edgar had to do this job right.

  What would he do if Ricky left the herd and the job behind? They had just enough cowboys to wrangle the animals where they needed to go. Would his brother be selfish enough to leave the job unfinished?

  Should Edgar try to talk to him again, smooth things over?

  “Someone’s glad to see you.”

  Edgar followed Matty’s nod to Fran as she picked her way across the couple of bedrolls that hadn’t been secured on their owners’ horses. She moved toward where he and his brother sat, downing the remains of their pan-fried biscuits.

  She was smiling, beaming at him.

  He looked down, examining himself. Had he smeared some dirt or grease across his body, or otherwise forgotten to button something up?

  Nope. Everything seemed in order, from his boots to his chin. He leaned back into the saddle he was propped against and pushed back his Stetson to see her better as she approached.

  “Good morning,” she greeted.

  He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to understand what had happened between last night when he’d left her near tears and this morning.

  “Mornin’,” he mumbled around a bite of biscuit.

  She didn’t reprimand him for his poor manners, but leaned down and bussed his cheek.

  He choked on his biscuit.

  “Let me refill your coffee before I start cleaning up.” She took the mug from his suddenly nerveless fingers and turned away.

  He registered his brother practically rolling on the ground at the stunned expression he must have been wearing.

  “Knock it off,” he growled, thumping Matty’s leg with his boot.

  “You just—hee, hee, hee—you look so thunderstruck!”

  He felt thunderstruck.

  He was a cad, and she should be angry with him.

  Not kissing his cheek like she was happy to see him.

  “Quiet,” he warned his brother.

  “You charmer, you!” Matty was still belly laughing, swiping at tears rolling down his cheeks with one sleeve while he fanned his face with his Stetson.

  “What’s going on?” Seb asked, plopping down a few feet away. He’d been on the last watch of the night and looked exhausted.

  Thank goodness they were only a half day from Tuck’s Station.

  “Hee, hee, hee—Ed’s gone and found the one woman who likes his crotchety nature.”

  “Shut. Up!” he hissed, looking over his shoulder to make sure she hadn’t heard.

  Seb brightened, his exhaustion disappearing as he straightened, knocking back his hat with wide eyes.

  “There’s nothing between us,” Edgar insisted. “We’re parting ways. I’ve got an idea to put her up in Calvin.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t be kissing her behind the wagon,” Matty said, suddenly serious. “Might give her the wrong idea.”

  Edgar’s face and ears went hot.

  “Well, I think it’s grand that Edgar’s finally found someone to love,” Seb interjected, clearly trying to play the peacemaker.

  “I have not.” Edgar looked over his shoulder again, but thankfully Fran still hadn’t reappeared with his coffee.

  He kept his voice low when he turned back to his brothers. “She’s a pill, all right? Yeah, I like her, a little, but you both know I wasn’t looking for a wife.”

  Seb shrugged. “You got one, though. Shouldn’t waste your chance.”

  Matty kicked his head back and Edgar shot a look over his shoulder to see Fran approaching. She didn’t have his coffee mug—instead she had a pair of kitchen shears. He got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “I started thinking... If you’re going to represent your papa for this deal with the cattle, you should look a little more... A little less...”

  He raised one eyebrow at her. “What’s wrong with the way I look?” Not that he didn’t know. But he wanted to see what she would say.

  She had the grace to blush. “I know spring must be a busy time on a ranch. Maybe you haven’t realized it’s past time for a haircut.”

  “And a shave,” Seb offered helpfully.

  Edgar glared at his brother.

  “Well, I don’t have a razor,” Fran said.

  That was good, because he wouldn’t trust her that close to him with a blade.

  “But I found these shears in the bottom of the wagon and I thought I could at least attempt to...” She waved one limp hand toward him, toward his head specifically.

  He waited for her to finish.

  She frowned at him.

  “To make you more presentable,” she finished firmly.

  Matty sl
apped him on the back. “Sounds like a fine idea. You’re overdue for a trim.”

  The mark of a smart man was knowing when he was beat. And Edgar knew, between his two brothers and Fran, he wasn’t getting out of this without a haircut. Like it or not.

  So he gave in with what grace he could muster.

  “Fine,” he muttered.

  He’d ridden through this area before and knew of a little stream farther past the wooded area. It was a little bit more of a hike than they’d had the first two nights out on the prairie, but by the time he’d built that fire the day before it seemed silly to move the wagon for a little less of a walk to do dishes and water the horses.

  He followed her there and stood on the still-swollen bank, waiting for her to tell him what she had planned. He took off his Stetson and tossed it up the bank a few feet for its own protection.

  “Why don’t you...” She looked him up and down, and he felt the full difference in their heights.

  She set down the wooden bucket and a towel he hadn’t realized she was carrying and plunked her hand on her hip, biting her lip and assessing him with her eyes.

  He wasn’t going to make this any easier on her. It had been her idea after all.

  Even though he knew his ma would appreciate the thought.

  “I suppose you should sit here.”

  He followed her directions to kneel on the bank of the creek—a little too close for his comfort, but he supposed he’d been dunked the night before and this clean stream wouldn’t hurt none. It wasn’t deep, even with the extra inch or two from the recent rain.

  Then, with a little pressure from her hand on his shoulder, she had him bent over the water, and he heard the soft swoosh as she dipped the bucket.

  He yelped at the icy sensation of the entire bucket being poured on his head and splashing onto his shoulders.

  Water sluiced down his face and cooled him all the way down the neck of his shirt.

  Then she pressed on his shoulders and he sat back on his heels. Her palm rested against his forehead, hot on his now-chilled skin, and she flipped back the hair that had been dripping in his face.

  He squinted up at her.

  She grinned. “Sorry.”

  “Sure you are,” he growled. But he wasn’t angry.