A Rancher’s Surrender

by Michelle Beattie

  A very prim-looking woman about Letty’s age clipped along the boardwalk, her shoulders thrust back. Jillian wouldn’t have been surprised to see a plank holding them that way. Her head was tilted so high it was a wonder she could see where she was going. As she approached them, her gaze flitted over Jillian. Her brow furrowed and her mouth pinched as though someone had just stuck a lemon into it. Angling her body away from Jillian, she fixed her gaze on Letty.

  “If you have a moment, I need to make some purchases,” the woman said. Her voice matched her expression perfectly.

  “Of course, Angela.” Letty held open the door, letting the woman precede her. “Nice meeting you, Jillian. See you Sunday!”

  From the mercantile, Jillian passed Shane’s office and moved to the post office. Though she was able to send off a letter to her mother and sister, Katie, informing them she’d made it safely, the man behind the counter—she had no idea his name as he didn’t bother introducing himself—hurried her along as though he couldn’t get her out fast enough.

  Undaunted, Jillian said hello to everyone she passed. They could ignore her all they liked, but she wouldn’t make it easy. She made a point of going into several businesses and introducing herself. Cold politeness met her at every turn. It wasn’t long before her anger was simmering. Deciding to let it go for today, she guided Hope to the feed mill. She’d get what she needed and go home.

  Inside, a boy about Annabelle’s age greeted her. Since it was, other than Letty’s, the first real smile she’d seen thus far, she strolled over to the boy.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello. Can I help you?”

  “You work here?” Jillian asked. Most of the bags that lined the wall weighed more than he did.

  “My pa owns the mill. I do chores after school and we were let out early today. I’m Jacob, Jacob Garvey.”

  He had tousled, blond hair and smudges of dirt on his cheek. She’d never spent much time around children, but one thing she could say about both this boy and Annabelle was that they were honest and open. If only the rest of the town were as smart.

  “Nice to meet you Jacob. I’m Jillian Matthews. I’m the new veterinarian.”

  His brown eyes widened. “Really? You can fix animals, make them better?”

  “No, she can’t,” came the reply from the back of the mill. Striding forward was a tall, wide-shouldered man with a stern face.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You weren’t able to save Wade’s cow, were you?”

  “That was entirely—”

  “Your fault. Now what do you want?”

  Jillian snapped her mouth closed. Was this really how the man conducted his business? Then he could take his superior attitude and—

  “There isn’t another feed mill. Closest one is a full day’s ride away. In one direction. Now, did you want something or not?”

  She swallowed her pride. For now. But she’d be sure to ask either Letty or Eileen just where that other feed mill was. Losing two days was a bargain compared to giving this man her hard-earned and, with a wagon of supplies, her quickly depleting dollars.

  She told him what she required and grudgingly handed over the money. He sneered as he pocketed the bills then jerked his chin toward the wall. “Bags are right there.” He pointed. “Come on, Jacob. We have work to do.”

  It wasn’t that the bags were too heavy for her to carry. They weren’t, though she did strain under the weight as she awkwardly carried one out to her wagon. But she knew, she just knew, he would never let another woman carry them out by herself. She hefted the bag into the wagon. If he expected to break her by a little hard work he had another thing coming.

  Jillian was breathing heavy when she set the last bag on the ground behind her wagon. She took a few breaths, wiped her brow, and grabbed the corners.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, let me help you with that!”

  Of the people that lingered on the boardwalk—including Mr. Garvey who, despite his claims of having work to do, stood in his doorway—the one person to offer help was a woman no taller than Jillian herself was. She snapped a fierce look Garvey’s way before settling her gaze on Jillian.

  “I’m Silver. Let me help you with that.”

  Before Jillian could respond to the name, the woman grabbed the bag by two corners. Hurriedly, Jillian grasped the bottom and together they lifted it up. Silver slapped the dust off her hands.

  “Is that the last of it?”

  “It is; thank you for your help.”

  “Well, it wasn’t as though anybody else was willing,” she said with another cutting glare toward Mr. Garvey. He sneered and disappeared into his mill. “How does a cold glass of sweet tea sound?”

  Considering her throat was drier than sand, Jillian smiled.

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  “I’m just at the end of Main Street.” Her gaze never wavered. “I own Silver’s Saloon.”

  “Letty told me. I saw the sign when I was at the post office.”

  Silver nodded. “I saw you looking, figured who you were, and decided to take a walk.”

  “You followed me?”

  “Nothing as sinister as that.” Silver reassured. “Let’s just say I thought perhaps you could use a friendly face.”

  “I appreciate it, thank you.”

  “And you have no problem coming into a saloon? Even one that hasn’t yet opened for the day?”

  Jillian had never been in a saloon. She knew if she went she’d be judged—yet again—by her decision. Still, it wasn’t a hard choice. This woman had helped her where others hadn’t. She’d offered kindness and hospitality. Saloon or not, it spoke of Silver’s character.

  “Lead the way,” Jillian answered.

  *

  Jillian followed Silver into the back door of the saloon to a spacious kitchen that, surprisingly, looked as modern as some she’d seen in Philadelphia. Silver pushed open another door and Jillian found herself, for the first time in her life, in the middle of a saloon.

  Sunlight poured through the large windows and splayed its glow over the polished wooden floors. Midnight-blue velvet curtains, pulled back with gold sashes, flanked the windows, allowing the natural light to tumble in. Through the sparkling glass, she saw Grey’s Saloon. Like Silver’s, it was closed at this time of day.

  Turning in a slow circle, she took in the round tables with the chairs tucked in tight, the piano beneath the most gorgeous staircase she’d ever seen. She couldn’t help herself. She stepped over and ran her hand over the smooth wood.

  “It took me months to get the handrail the way I wanted it.”

  Jillian turned. Silver was about her size, though slightly shorter. Combs pulled her blonde hair away from her face, revealing delicate features reminiscent of fairies. Loose, gold curls coiled down her back. The dress she wore was modest, but Jillian recognized it as being the same high fashion women wore back home.

  “You did this?”

  Silver smiled proudly. “I didn’t build it. When I bought this saloon it was nothing but a beat-up old barn. I fixed what I could, bought what I couldn’t.” Her smile was nearly as bright as the sunlight. “It’s not beat-up any longer.”

  No, it certainly wasn’t. Letting her hand slip off the balustrade, Jillian’s gaze fell to the bar. Judging from its luster, Jillian didn’t doubt it would be smooth as the banister. Wine bottles, whiskey bottles, and others of varying shapes and sizes lined the glass shelf they rested on. Behind them a gilded mirror reflected her surprise.

  “It’s pretty.”

  “Thank you. That was my goal.”

  Silver slipped behind the counter, poured the sweet tea and passed Jillian a tall glass.

  “I imagine big cities like Philadelphia have the luxury of serving ice in its drinks but Marietta doesn’t have an ice house. However, I made that just before stepping outside and the well water is cold as any mountain spring.”

  “It’s fine, thank you.” Jillian took a long swallow, couldn’t help
but look around again before she faced her hostess.

  Eyes the color of rich coffee laced with a touch of cream watched her closely. At first glance, Jillian imagined many people took in Silver’s pretty face and little else. But Jillian had learned to examine the eyes and what she saw in Silver’s was a woman who, quite likely, people underestimated. There was more to Silver than a pixie’s face.

  A fact soon confirmed.

  “Jillian, a lot of folks in this town will talk behind your back rather than to your face. As much as that fact annoys me, I can’t seem to change it. There are a few, however, that prefer to tell it like is, so I’ll be up front with you.

  “Being seen with me won’t help you. I don’t own a brothel, that’s what separates mine from Grey’s. The only rooms upstairs are my own and no man has stepped foot in them. Still, it’s assumed I must be a whore, as why else would I have wanted to build a saloon.

  “Much as I think we could come to be friends since we seem to be about the same age and we’re both outsiders, I’ll understand if you choose to walk away.”

  Silver’s words struck Jillian speechless. Here was a woman who’d made this saloon the stunning establishment that it was, who’d very likely, by stepping forward and helping a stranger, further segregated herself from a town that already shunned her.

  While Jillian’s younger sister Katie had always been surrounded by friends, Jillian herself had never made any close acquaintances. Sure, when she and Clint went out the women were polite and cordial, but they never called on her for tea nor made any effort to get to know her better. Though she’d been busy working and learning at her father’s side, she’d always secretly envied Katie’s large circle of friends.

  Experience had taught her not many people changed their minds once they were set. Jillian had seen firsthand today just how set many of those minds were. She was willing to be friendly and even put up with the rudeness, but she wouldn’t bow to them and to what they thought she ought to be any more than she had back home.

  “You mustn’t be a very good poker player.”

  Silver’s smile was confident. “Actually, I’ve been known to win my share as I can bluff when I need to.” She shrugged. “There was no need to here.”

  Jillian took another sip of the sweet drink. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “Good, then I have a little more for you. I know what happened at the Parker ranch.”

  Jillian hadn’t been sure how to broach the subject of Wade and couldn’t believe her good fortune that Silver mentioned him first. She fussed with her glass a moment then asked the question that had been foremost in her mind since leaving the mercantile.

  “Letty mentioned Wade was here and speaking of me. Did he—well—did he have anything good to say about me, or was it all bad?”

  Silver leaned a hip against the bar. “As I’m sure you know, he wasn’t happy to learn that the vet he’d helped hire was a woman.”

  “Yes, he made that clear both the night of the surgery and again this morning when he was over.”

  With brows raised, Silver studied Jillian over her glass of lemonade. “He paid you a visit?”

  “He paid me. For the surgery.”

  “Oh. Well, at least he doesn’t blame you for the animal dying. I feel I should tell you he did at first.”

  “That’s how word got round then, isn’t it? Wade was here blaming me?”

  Silver placed a hand over Jillian’s. “Once he’d talked it out, he came to realize you weren’t at fault.”

  “By then, the damage was done, wasn’t it? Others must have heard him blaming me.”

  Silver’s pained expression confirmed that he had, in fact, been overheard. Jillian took a deep breath. It was done; all she could do now was move forward and work at changing folks’ opinions. Hopefully the fact that Wade now understood she’d done everything she could, would help sway them.

  “Was the man at the feed mill one of the men who overheard Wade?”

  “Steven wasn’t here last night, but some of his friends were. I’m sure they didn’t waste any time running to Steven’s house.”

  “Steven?”

  “Steven Garvey. He doesn’t only own the feed mill, he’s the mayor.”

  He was mayor as well? Her future in Marietta suddenly looked even bleaker than it had moments ago.

  “Truthfully, Jillian, Steven would have been just as mean to you whether that cow died or not. He and Wade have known each other for years and apparently they’ve never gotten along. He’ll make a ruckus about this because it was Wade’s decision to hire you. That you’re a woman will only give him more ammunition.”

  “But Wade didn’t even know I was a woman when he hired me.”

  Silver shrugged. “That won’t matter to Steven. As I said, he hates Wade. If he can make Wade look bad, he’ll jump at the chance.”

  Jillian clasped her hands together. “I can’t afford to lose Wade’s support. He’s the only one who’s seen what I can do.”

  “Once Wade gives his word, it’s ironclad. If he said he’d support you, then he will. But Steven will be as dedicated in ensuring nobody else comes around to Wade’s point of view.”

  Had she really believed moving west would be simpler?

  “What are you going to do?” Silver asked.

  Jillian sat tall. “What I told Letty I’d do. I know Wade doesn’t have time to smooth feathers and, frankly, it’s not up to him. So I will. I’ll visit the farms and ranches, make myself known. Make myself clear that they hired me for my qualifications.”

  Silver lifted her glass. “To fighting for what you want, no matter what.”

  Thinking of Steven at the feed mill and the man at the post office and hoping things wouldn’t come to “no matter what”, Jillian tapped her glass to Silver’s.

  *

  The impact of driving home the nails sent tremors up Wade’s arm. Added to that his sweaty palm was making it harder and harder to hold his grip. He dropped the tool into the grass and wiped his hand on his pants. He squinted at the sky, praying for a cloud, anything to give him some relief from this heat. Normally their valley was breezy but this spring had been unusually calm. Grabbing the shirt he’d abandoned hours ago, Wade lifted it off the ground and wiped his face.

  Hearing a rider coming in, Wade tensed. After their prank, James and Scott had gone up to check the high country, to ensure everything was ready to move the cattle up. They shouldn’t be back unless they’d run into trouble.

  But it wasn’t Scott or James; it was Jillian. His first reaction was a hard kick of his heart, followed by an equally swift rush of desire. He crumpled his shirt and flung it aside. If only his lust could be as easily discarded.

  Sighing, he faced the oncoming rider. What struck him first was her dishevelment. Considering the lack of breeze, even a little horseback ride wouldn’t toss her hair like that. Half her braid had come undone and the other half barely hung on. She had a smear of dirt on her cheek. Her blouse was dirty and—

  The horse had barely come to a stop when Wade stepped forward, grabbed her mare’s halter. “What happened?”

  She had a large tear at her elbow and there was some blood. A crazy fury swept through him.

  “I lost a wheel on my wagon.” She shoved some hair behind her ear. “I know to check the wheels, make sure they aren’t loose. But I had a lot on my mind and…” She slapped a hand over her skirt. A poof of dust floated up from the fabric. “Anyhow, if I’d checked, I wouldn’t have taken a tumble.”

  Knowing she hadn’t been manhandled didn’t ease his tension. Losing a wheel unexpectedly often threw a driver and spooked the horse. It wasn’t uncommon to be knocked to the ground by the unexpected jar then trampled by the wagon when a frightened horse took off. It was the reminder he needed to cool his blood. A woman like Jillian would constantly be in harm’s way. And those who were foolish enough to care for her would always worry, would always be at risk of losing her.

  “Front or back?”

&n
bsp; “Back, luckily. I took a fall. Some of my supplies were tossed about, but it didn’t hurt Hope or spook her as much as it could have.”

  “You were lucky.”

  “I know. And I can see you’re busy…”

  Her eyes slid over him and for a day that was already sweltering, the temperature suddenly shot up another ten degrees. He felt a bead of sweat skip down his chest and roll over his belly. He nearly swallowed his tongue when her eyes tracked it to the waistband of his pants. Her throat rose and fell as she swallowed. Blood roared in his ears.

  Her face looking as hot as he felt, she said, “I know I’m imposing, clearly you were hard at work, but I can’t get the wheel on by myself and coming here was closer than going back to town.”

  Hell, with the way his body was reacting, being alone with her wasn’t a good idea. But neither could he refuse her help.

  “All right.” He sighed. “Just let me get a drink and a clean shirt.” He turned and had to do some fancy footwork to keep from knocking his daughter to the ground.

  “Annabelle!”

  “Papa, can I come?”

  “What?”

  “Can I go with you? It won’t take me long to get Peanut ready and—”

  “Whoa, Button,” Wade said, kneeling before his daughter and cupping her chin in his hand. “Did you finish your chores?”

  Her little shoulders drooped as she realized she’d lost her chance. “No.”

  “Sorry, Button. But we had a bargain, remember? If you finish your chores like Grandma asked, after supper we’ll go catch frogs.”

  Blue eyes so like Amy’s it never failed to break his heart, filled with tears. “But I wanna come.”

  “Well, if you come with me now, then you’ll have to finish your chores later and we won’t have time for frog catching. So, you can choose. Come with me now, which is nothing but fixing a boring old wheel, or do as you were asked and we’ll have all sorts of fun later.”

  “And you’ll let me keep one like you promised?”

  “Yes.” Though he feared for the poor critter’s life. He knew by her smile which choice she’d made.