Competition got in the way of what might have become friendship. Chad supposed that was natural enough, their being the same age and near the same weight and height. Soon enough they were competing over anything and everything. Schoolwork, fishing, hunting, shooting, racing, didn’t matter what, they each had to be the better at it. But Spencer turned out to be a sore loser and had started many of those first fights.
It wasn’t long before they didn’t need much of an excuse to fight, since the fighting turned out to be just another form of competition between them. They’d busted up the schoolroom so often in those days, the town officials elected to abandon the small, one-room schoolhouse in favor of the church, in hopes it would have a more calming influence on the boys. It didn’t, but at least they took their fights out into the churchyard thereafter.
They might have outgrown these tendencies, might still have become friends someday and laughed over the antics of their youth. Anything was possible. But then they got old enough to start noticing females . .
Wilma Jones was the first they both took a liking to. Six fights later and after Spence had carved “I love you, Wilma” on every single plank of her house late one night, the Joneses moved back East, taking Wilma with them.
Agatha Winston was the second girl they both noticed, again at the same time. They were sixteen by then, and their fights were getting a little more bloody. Aggie happened to get in the middle of one of them and got her nose broken. Chad guiltily suspected it was his fist that had done it, but he’d never been quite sure. She’d refused to talk to either of them after that and still didn’t, even though she was married with three kids now.
The kicker, though, was Clare Johnson. She’d bloomed late, or they just hadn’t paid attention since she was a couple of years younger than they were. But she was a real nice girl, always helping out the younger children in school. She aspired to be a teacher herself someday.
Chad became infatuated with her soon after his seventeenth birthday, his first—and last—serious interest in a girl. He took her on a picnic, invited her to keep him company while he fished, danced every dance with her at the shindig following the Wilkses’ barn-raising, and was sure he was the first to steal a kiss from her because she’d blushed so bright red afterward. He never would have thought to do more than that. She was a nice girl, the kind you courted slowly, then married.
He tried to keep his interest a secret this time. He didn’t take her out to places where Spencer would notice—Spencer was too uppity to go to barn-raisings, so Chad was sure he hadn’t heard about the dancing. But Spencer was doing his own secret courting of Clare that Chad didn’t know about—until it was too late. And Spencer didn’t abide by the rules, he didn’t stop with a kiss.
He actually seduced Clare, then the son of a bitch bragged about it, so Chad would know he’d lost. Spencer didn’t consider that his bragging would effectively ruin Clare—or he didn’t care. It was more important to him to win.
The fights escalated after that. Chad and Spencer couldn’t be in the same room without trying to kill each other. And that sorry state of affairs continued until Spencer’s father, Tom Evans, finally got fed up with paying his share of the damages his boy had caused and shipped him off to finish his schooling with relatives back East. The town breathed a collective sigh of relief-—until months later the peace and quiet actually got a bit boring and some folks were bemoaning the loss of their weekly entertainment in watching Chad and Spencer go after each other wherever they happened to meet.
When Spencer Evans finally returned to town after his father’s death to take over the Not Here Saloon, the townsfolk were filled with both dread and expectancy. But enough time had passed, both boys were men now, and fortunately, the town now had two saloons, so Chad actually made an effort to avoid Spencer. He didn’t always succeed, and there were still the occasional fights between them, but nothing like what had gone on during their youth.
Clare was still in Trenton. She’d helped in her father’s tin shop until he died, then she sold it. She worked in Spencer’s saloon now, handled the entertainment, onstage and otherwise. And every time Chad thought of her these days, he despised Spencer even more.
But Amanda wouldn’t be staying in town more than one night, and Reds ranch was a good days ride from town, so he didn’t expect Spencer to come sniffing around. Besides, Red wouldn’t allow a seducer of innocents to court her very innocent niece.
Chapter 12
“YOU DISMISSED THE COACH? That was our personal coach!”
Chad tipped his hat back, looked up at the morning sky, counted to ten. It looked like Amanda was going to require all of his patience today. Good thing he had a lot.
He glanced back at the ladies standing at the top of the steps in front of the hotel. Only Amanda was glaring at him incredulously. Marian was examining her nails in a somewhat suspect display of indifference. Their maid looked bored as usual.
He’d brought them three mounts to ride. He’d spent a good thirty minutes in discussion over those horses to make sure they were suitable for ladies before he left the stable. He supposed he should have warned them that they’d be traveling the rest of the way on horseback. But he simply hadn’t thought it was necessary.
Everyone and their mother got around by horseback out here.
Patience well in hand again, he told Amanda, “It wasn’t your personal—anything. The only reason you got to use it as long as you did was because I browbeat the depot employee into allowing you to use it, since it was one of their drivers that abandoned you and the coach. I had to threaten to break his neck if he didn’t agree. But that coach is too big for the narrow road out to the ranch. Besides, Will took off with it at the crack of dawn, so it’s long gone already.”
Amanda took on a mulish look. “I am not riding a horse. You’ll just have to rent us a carriage then.”
Well hell, when she got ornery, she really got ornery. It was a good thing she was so pretty that a man could overlook a few annoying traits.
He sighed. “Horses you can rent. Wagons to haul supplies you can rent. But if there’s even one carriage in this town, I’d be mighty surprised. Trenton isn’t big enough to need them. Folks around here walk where they want to get to. And lastly, the narrow track out to the ranch winds a good distance out of the way to keep to flat land, takes an extra half day using it, which means sleeping outdoors for the night. With horses you can cut a straight path and get there before dark tonight.”
“Then you’ll just have to rent us a wagon, won’t you?” Amanda replied.
His explanation had been reasonable. Did she really want to rough it on the side of the road? Or was she just being stubborn? Some women, when they took a stand, refused to back down from it for any reason, even when proven wrong without a doubt.
“I’ve already done that for your trunks. The driver will be here at any moment to pick them up and get them delivered by tomorrow.”
“Then what is the problem? I’ll simply ride with the wagon.”
“You’re missing the point,” Chad replied. “That means an extra day—”
“No, you are missing the point,” she cut in. “I am not riding on the back of a horse, not today, not tomorrow, not ever! So if some other means of transport cannot be arranged, I’ll be staying right here.”
“You won’t win this battle, Kinkaid,” Marian inserted. There was a distinct note of humor in her tone, but whether it was at his expense or her sister’s was anyone’s guess. “She’s afraid of horses.”
“I am not!” Amanda swung around to face her sister. “I just refuse to subject myself to the extreme
aches associated with sitting on a horse for any length of time.”
“You won’t like riding on a wagon,” Chad pointed out. “It’s not designed for comfort either. Nor is sleeping on the ground for that matter.”
“On the ground? Don’t be absurd. I would sleep in the wagon, of course.”
“The wagon would be loaded with—”
“It will just have to be unloaded,” Amanda interrupted him again, and in a tone that defied argument.
“It won’t fit all three of you.”
“And your point is?”
He stared at her incredulously. He didn’t miss the implication. A wagon just for her own individual use was what she was saying, yet where he came from, what was good for one sibling was good for the rest. Was he going to have to go through this whole argument again with the spinster if he agreed to this nonsense? Get another wagon just for them all to sleep in?
Marian actually laughed—at him. His expression over Amanda’s remark right then would probably have made a bull snicker. With less patience, he might have exploded at that point. But for some odd reason, he didn’t mind her humor. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh, and the sound was actually pleasant, even somewhat contagious. He didn’t laugh as well, but the urge to do so did take a few notches off of his annoyance.
She must have read his mind, too, because she said, “Guess it’s a good thing I don’t mind sleeping on the ground—or riding a horse for that matter.”
“You’ve never been on a horse before either,” Amanda said petulantly.
“Yes, but unlike you, I’m willing to try new things. And how difficult can it be, plodding along at a walk beside a wagon.”
Marian was rubbing it in, that they were going to be delayed just to accommodate Amanda’s stubbornness. It didn’t work though. Not even a slight blush was forthcoming from the lovely blond.
And then the wagon in question pulled into view, coming around the corner just down the block. Marian started laughing again.
“Oh my God, mules,” she gasped out between chuckles. “I could probably get to Aunt Kathleen’s quicker if I walked.”
This time Amanda did blush. She was also furious, observing the mode of transportation she had insisted she would ride on. And she turned that fury on Chad.
“Is this your idea of a joke? “You expect me to ride behind mules?”
“Riding behind them was your idea, not mine. I brought you a perfectly good horse—”
“Which you can exchange for those mules. And I don’t care how long it takes. If I can’t have a carriage, I at least have to have a wagon pulled by horses.”
Chad started counting to ten again. While he was at it, Spencer showed up. He was all dandified, wearing his Sunday best though he wasn’t a churchgoer, which meant he’d hoped to catch the ladies before they left town and impress them with the debonair ways he’d learned during those few years he’d been shipped back East to finish off his schooling.
“Good morning, ladies.” Spencer tipped his hat. “I couldn’t help overhearing that you may need my assistance—if a carriage is what you require.”
He might have said ladies, but his eyes were all over Amanda. And she was impressed, to go by the smile she offered him. Women did seem to get all silly when they were around Spencer Evans, finding his boyish looks exceptionally handsome. Dark brown hair, emerald green eyes, and the confidence that came with being a successful man of business.
“Indeed, sir. And you are?”
“Spencer Evans, at your service.”
“We were told there were no carriages to be had in this town.”
“Some people are too ignorant to know any better,” Spencer said.
“But you do have a carriage for hire then?” Amanda confirmed.
“Brand spanking new, delivered just last month,” he was pleased to say. “But I’ll hear no talk of hiring. You’re most welcome to use it, however.”
Chad turned away, began counting to one hundred this time. He hadn’t missed the digs from both of them. The last thing he wanted to do was fight in front of Amanda, but if he said even two words to Spencer, that’s probably what would happen. Her barbs he could ignore, Spencer’s he couldn’t.
But they weren’t waiting for his reaction. They were still ironing out the details. And it was easy to see where this was leading, not just a generous offer on Spencer’s part to ingratiate himself with Amanda, but an opportunity to see more of her.
Spencer was saying, “I’ll come by to fetch it tomorrow afternoon—”
“Don’t bother,” Chad cut in, unable to keep quiet any longer. “Someone will bring it back.”
“No bother at all. I’m already looking forward to one of Red’s home-cooked dinners.”
Spencer had done his homework. He knew who the Laton sisters were and where they were going, had probably found Will Candles last night and grilled him. Chad had actually expected him to show up in the hotel dining room last night to meet them. He might have and been too late. The ladies hadn’t tarried over dinner, had retired early to bed, so if Spencer had wasted time slicking himself up before coming over, he would have missed them.
It took an extra hour to finally get going. Chad had to buy some blankets for the night, food for dinner. And there had been a teeth-grinding moment when Spencer pulled up with his brand spanking new carriage and Amanda admitted she didn’t know how to drive one. After making all that fuss, she couldn’t even drive the thing.
That news even surprised Spencer, long enough to keep him from offering that service as well. The maid spoke up and said she was capable of driving it.
Spencer would have offered if he hadn’t been rendered momentarily speechless. And Chad would probably have broken his nose for it. He was plumb out of patience. But that was usually the case after a run-in with Spencer Evans.
Chapter 13
THEY CAMPED NEXT TO a water hole. It wasn’t the best-tasting water around, but Chad had brought a supply, so they didn’t need to drink it. He did the cooking himself. Marian actually offered to, but if she cooked the way Red did, and they both hailed from the same place, he’d rather eat roots, so he declined. Besides, he didn’t trust Marian not to burn the camp down, she was so clumsy. The farther she stayed from the campfire, the better.
He’d managed to cool off, his temper, that is, as the day got hotter. A pure waste of time, riding alongside a carriage, but what the hell, it was only one more day. Amanda even magnanimously elected to sleep in the carriage, since it was a two-seater and she was short enough to fit on one of the padded seats, if she curled her legs that is. The padding was what swayed her, but at least he didn’t have to unload the wagon for her—after it finally caught up to them.
Chad half expected Spencer to show up that night with some flimsy excuse about making sure the ladies were all right. It was something Chad might have done if he wanted to see more of a woman who had caught his interest. But then he was forgetting that Spencer was town raised. His particular town might be in the middle of Texas , but there was still a big difference in being raised in the comforts of town and roughing it out on the plains, which anyone raised on a ranch was used to.
And Spencer had already used up his quota of flimsy excuses. Looking forward to Red’s cooking—Chad gave a mental snort. The bastard didn’t even know that if Red had ever cooked a meal in her life, it had probably burned, that she employed cooks for herself as well as the bunkhouse for just that reason, which she wasn’t ashamed to admit.
The maid Ella Mae offered to clean up after dinner, which was nice of her. She was a quiet one. Brown hair kept in a soft bun not nearly as severe as Marian’s, green eyes, a few years older than the sisters, she went about her duties without drawing much attention to herself. She was a plain-looking woman, except for the hint of humor always in her eyes. Marian spoke to her as if she were a friend. Amanda spoke to her with more respect than he’d heard her use with anyone else. Neither treated her as a menial servant. They didn’t tell her to do things, they asked. He supposed she’d been with them long enough that she was more like family.
Of course, as families went, the sisters didn’t exactly behave like they were related. They didn’t talk much to each other, but when they did, they rarely had a nice word to say. He figured they’d had an argument somewhere along their journey and just hadn’t made up yet
. That might explain some of Amanda’s testiness as well—and the spinsters rudeness.
Amanda had left the campfire to prepare for bed. Chad watched her surreptitiously for a bit as she fussed with the blankets he’d bought to find one for her use. Ella Mae had brought her a bucket of water. She used it to wash the dust from the day off her face and neck, but then took it with her behind the wagon for a bit more privacy.
He was finding her more and more lovely with each passing day. He hoped he wasn’t getting smitten—not yet anyway. With no encouragement coming from her other than a few smiles, and those had been passed out to others as well, not just him, he still didn’t know whether he stood a chance in hell of gaining her affections.
Usually there were clues, lots of them, small subtle ways a woman let a man know she was interested in him. He’d never been in doubt about a woman’s interest, well, certainly not for this long. Of course, he hadn’t been obvious about his interest in her either. He had decided to wait before making any move on her, so maybe she was keeping her own feelings firmly under wraps until he started dropping some clues of his own.
With Amanda gone from sight, he glanced back toward the campfire and was surprised to find himself alone with the spinster. The fire was reflected in both lenses of her spectacles, two miniature campfires in exact detail. It looked most odd, but then she always looked odd with those spectacles shoved so far up the bridge of her nose.
She seemed tired tonight, even though she had chosen not to ride a horse today after all, since the carriage had more than enough room for both sisters. He still grudgingly admired her gumption over that, to be willing to ride a horse, when apparently neither sister had ever sat on one before. He had briefly thought about teaching her how, once they were at the ranch, but then gave himself a mental kick for even vaguely considering it. The more distance he kept from her, the better for him.
A Man to Call My Own Page 6