Love Finds You in Sundance, Wyoming

by Miralee Ferrell

  Travis shook his head, working to stifle his frustration. Libby’s husband had hired more household help than she’d known what to do with, and as far as Travis was concerned, she’d grown soft as a result. Most women in the West would never think of asking for outside help. But she’d been widowed less than a year and never lived this far from town.

  Nate placed his hat back on his head after Libby disappeared through the door. He raised his eyebrows at Travis. “Hope I didn’t rile your sister too much, Boss, and add to your troubles.”

  Travis waved at the chair on the porch and took the one near it. “Libby needs a little time, that’s all. I’ll have to put some thought into what I can do to help ease her mind, but right now I’m worried about the stock we’re losing.”

  “Yes, sir.” Nate stretched his long legs in front of him.

  Travis tapped his fingers against the wicker arm of the chair. “I don’t have the manpower to put a cowboy on it full-time, and finding good cowhands is getting harder.”

  “I heard some talk from a puncher over at the Broken Bar Ranch. Seems he heard tell of a fella who’s good with horses and an expert tracker as well. Mexican man—doesn’t speak much English. Might put out word we could use him—see if he’ll mosey this way.”

  Travis shook his head. “If he’s already got a job, why would he want to move?”

  “Might, for the right money.” Nate pushed up from his chair and hitched his belt. “I’ll ask around, see what he’s used to getting paid.”

  “Pay him what you have to. The calves we’re losing will cost us more than a tracker’s wages. He can figure out where the varmints are holed up, and you boys can clean them out. Besides, having another hand with the horses would be a plus.”

  Angel broke camp, swung onto Bella, and slid her rifle into its scabbard. Thankfully it was payday. A shiver ran across her shoulder blades. Another nightmare had haunted the early morning hours, dredging up the memory of the outlaw who’d made her life miserable just a few years ago. She’d heard word from time to time about the old rustler band. They’d fled Texas after killing the Texas Ranger and his posse and moved their operation to New Mexico. As much as she’d love to see her uncle José, she couldn’t take the chance Hinson would hear of a young Mexican man who was a crack shot with a rifle, so she’d gone north to Wyoming. She bumped Bella into a canter. Hopefully Uncle José had left the band and started over.

  Angel cantered across an open pasture and slowed her mare to a walk. Several ranch hands milled in front of the barn, and Mr. Granger, the tough-as-dried-leather owner of the Broken Bar Ranch, stood outside handing out the pay envelopes. Good. She reined Bella to a halt.

  Granger swung around, and his bushy brows lowered. “Angelo. You got a telegram. Climb off that mare and take a gander. Got your pay, as well.” He thrust out two envelopes as she stepped forward.

  “Telegram? ¿Quién le mandé?” She kept her words short, her accent strong, and her sombrero low. She hated payday when all the men were here.

  “I told you, I don’t speak much Mexican.” He turned to one of his men. “What’d Angelo say?”

  “He wants to know who sent it.”

  Granger shrugged. “No idea.” He gave it to her and turned to the next man.

  Angel stuffed the envelope with her pay into the back pocket of her denim trousers. She grabbed Bella’s reins and drew the horse a few feet away, stopping in the shade of a wide-spread tree. The telegram was penned in neat script.

  Sundance Ranch needs help. Stop. Will pay top wages. Stop.

  Come soon. Stop. Travis Morgan. End.

  She tucked the paper into her shirt pocket, a deep sense of relief washing over her. “Boss?”

  Granger turned his head toward her. “Yeah.”

  “Nuevo job. You know Sundance Ranch?”

  The big man motioned to his foreman, and the slight, stooped cowhand strode over to join them. “Where’s the Sundance Ranch? They want Angelo to work for them. Right, Angelo?”

  She dipped her head. “Sí.”

  The foreman drew off his hat and scratched his head under thinning hair. “Well now, cerca del Sundance. You know—the place the Sundance kid hails from.” He pushed his hat back onto his head.

  Angel maintained a quizzical expression. It would only embarrass Mr. Granger if he discovered her secret now. No sense in allowing him to know she understood every word.

  Granger grunted and waved the man away. “Thanks, Sam.” He turned to Angel. “I hate lettin’ you go, Angelo, but it’s your call. Go east. One hour from Sundance.” He held up a finger. “Uno hour. Sí?”

  She grinned and nodded. “Sí. Gracias.”

  “No tener prisa.” He frowned. “Hope I said that right—no rush. Get some grub and bunk here. Start mañana”

  “Gracias, Señor Granger. Eat, then ride.” Angel headed toward the barn. She’d rub down her horse, give her a nosebag of grain, and hit the trail. The boss had tried to get her to stay in the bunkhouse before, but that wasn’t an option. Best ride an hour or so from the ranch where she was still in familiar territory, then get an early start in the morning.

  She stripped Bella’s saddle and turned her out in a pen to roll. Her horse deserved a short rest before riding out again. This new job had come just in time. No more hiding her long curls under her sombrero and speaking broken English. Once she arrived at the new ranch she’d be riding as Angel Ramirez. She only hoped the desperation in that telegram would last after her new boss discovered he’d hired a woman instead of a man.

  Chapter Three

  Angel shifted in her saddle to ease the ache in her back. She’d been riding straight through for eight hours now, with only a couple stops to water her horse. A few minutes ago she’d skirted Sundance, loath to meet any strangers. The town was located on the edge of the Black Hills, and the founders had settled in a wide basin at the foot of Sundance Mountain. She’d kept away from towns most of her life and didn’t feel comfortable venturing into one now. The ranch lay about six miles northeast of town, not far from the Montana border, so she might be riding on ranch property now. At least she was close; she was thankful for that.

  A whisper of her spur against Bella’s side moved the mare into a swinging lope. The country had flattened out. This section was cattle country, with grassland as far as she could see, and only an occasional butte or rocky gully marked the land. The grass could easily feed thousands of stock. Of course, more cattle meant an increase in predators.

  After covering what must be a couple of miles she spotted a roofline. Reining in her horse, she stood in the stirrups. A cluster of buildings loomed ahead, with a two-story house off to the side. The lane leading to the house had an upright log set in the ground on each side of the hard-packed surface, with a slender pole nailed across the top between the two. Someone had burned the words SUNDANCE RANCH into a board that hung from the crosspiece. Horses grazed in a pasture to the side of a barn.

  “It looks like we made it, Bella.” She ran her gloved hand down her horse’s neck and picked up the reins. “Let’s go see what our new boss thinks of us.” The mare broke into a canter and Angel let her go, the pace fitting the pounding of her heart.

  Angel wasn’t in a rush to reveal her identity. She tucked a strand of hair back inside her sombrero, suddenly glad that trail dust coated her body and that she’d worn a loose-fitting jacket. What if she’d made the wrong decision in coming out of hiding, and this man regretted his offer? She reined Bella to a trot. It might be best to take things easy.

  Bella slowed to a stop in the dusty area between the barn and the house. Angel surveyed the empty space, wondering at the lack of activity. She nudged Bella toward the hitching rail in front of the wood-sided house.

  The front door gave a slight squeak and swung open. A pretty blond woman stood framed by the doorway. She appeared to be at least ten years older than Angel and wore her hair in a bun. Small flowers dotted her lavender skirt, and gray buttons closed the front of the plain-cut
blouse. A quizzical expression tugged at her mouth, but her eyes were welcoming. “Good day, sir. May I help you?”

  Angel hesitated, disliking this continued deception. What would it be like to live in a house like this and dress in fine clothes? She wanted to be free of her outlaw past, but tracking varmints and breaking horses was the only life she knew. A slight jerk brought the brim of her sombrero down over her forehead. “Howdy, ma’am. I’ve come in response to your husband’s telegram.” Angel purposely dropped her voice a notch, and her sense of integrity dropped with it.

  “My husband?” The woman moved away from the door, letting the screen slam shut behind her. “Oh, you mean Travis.” She took a step forward and rested her hand on one of the porch posts. “I’m Libby Waters. Would you care for something cold to drink?”

  “No. Thanks. Any idea when Mr. Morgan will return?”

  “It’s near supper time, so he should be here soon. May I ask what telegram?”

  Angel wondered if she should tell this woman her business. She decided to risk it. “Asking me to work for him.”

  “So he’s hiring another hand for the ranch. I shouldn’t be surprised.” Her voice held a bit of an edge.

  Angel scrambled to understand the direction the conversation had taken.

  “Pardon my manners.” Libby shrugged, and sadness flashed across her fine-boned features. “That’s not your worry.” She shaded her eyes against the sun lying low on the horizon. “Someone’s coming.”

  Five men all riding bay or sorrel horses trotted up the lane and reined their mounts in front of the barn. A sudden panic gripped Angel. She nearly turned her horse and fled. In the three years of living like a man she’d grown comfortable with the role, and the thought of leaving the security it provided choked her.

  Then, squaring her shoulders, she faced the riders, watching them veer toward the barn. More than anything she longed to be true to herself. If only she could muster the courage to remove her sombrero and introduce herself properly to this man.

  Travis, Nate, and three of the other cowboys dismounted in front of the barn. Travis wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. It had been another frustrating day with heavy losses to the wolves and no word from his telegram. After supper he’d probably have to deal with Libby’s repeated requests for household help and talk to her about James. She continued to interfere with his attempts to turn the boy into a man.

  On top of everything else, he’d gotten another letter from his father urging him to “Give up this foolishness and come back to St. Louis.” Why couldn’t the man understand Travis’s need to succeed on his own? It shamed him that his father didn’t trust his judgment. His stomach hardened into a knot. Shake it off. It wasn’t the time to worry about it, with stock dying and the range overrun with wolves.

  Libby waved and stepped to the edge of the porch. “Travis. There’s someone to see you.”

  He’d already noted the lone rider sitting a black mare near the hitching rail, a bedroll and set of saddlebags behind the saddle. Slight of build, the man had a sombrero pulled low. A drifter looking for work or his tracker come at last? He handed his reins to Nate and walked toward the rider. “What can I do for you, mister?”

  “I’m Angelo de Luca. You sent a telegram saying you needed a tracker.”

  He nodded and looked the man over but couldn’t see much of his face with the sombrero shading it, other than smooth cheeks and chin beneath the coating of dust. “So you’re Angelo de Luca. You’re younger than I expected. I need someone who can ride, shoot, and track.” He narrowed his eyes. “You sure you can do this job?”

  The young man stiffened. “You sent the telegram. You must have heard of my reputation.”

  Travis took a step toward the edge of the porch and rubbed the day-old growth on his chin. “In that case, glad you made it. I’d about given up hope when I didn’t get a reply.”

  De Luca shrugged. “I headed out as soon as I got your wire. Took awhile to get here.”

  “No matter. That all your gear?”

  “It’s all I need.”

  Travis stared for a long moment. Something about this man felt strange. Maybe it was the pitch of his voice or the fact he wasn’t speaking Spanish. Someone got it wrong. “Nate will take you to the bunkhouse.” He waved toward a single-story building with a wide porch on the front, just to the side of the barn.

  Thank the good Lord he’d finally get on top of the predator problem. Maybe one thing would get solved, and he could move on. He’d build his herd to the point where his father must recognize his success. The man had seen him as a disappointment for long enough.

  He raised his voice. “Nate. De Luca’s arrived.”

  The older man raised his hand. “Be right there.”

  At least they’d found another experienced hand. He relaxed and smiled. Once he dealt with Libby’s needs, their immediate problems were over.

  Angel turned in her saddle. Travis Morgan stared into her eyes and her stomach did a somersault. Tall, broad shoulders, dark brown hair. Must be somewhere in his late twenties. She liked his purposeful walk—he appeared to be a man who knew what he wanted. Her muscles tensed as he drew a step closer. She’d hoped to talk to her new boss privately. Maybe land the job, then gently let him know of the— well—altered situation. But no way would she sleep in a bunkhouse with a bunch of cowboys.

  She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. Time to end this. “Do I have the job?”

  “You do.”

  “I won’t sleep in the bunkhouse, Mr. Morgan.”

  The muscles around his mouth tightened, firming his square jaw. The deep blue eyes darkened a shade. “All the men bunk there, unless they’re on the range overnight. No exceptions.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the cowboy called Nate step closer. He wore a serious expression. She’d not make friends by refusing to bunk with the men. “I’ll stay out on the range. Same as I do on every job.”

  Travis took his time pondering her response. “Not unless you’re too far from the ranch come nightfall. My ranch hands eat at my table for the morning and evening meal, and report to me each night. There are a couple of empty bunks, so you’re not putting anyone out.”

  Angel’s heart plummeted clear down to her dust-caked boots. There seemed no hope for it—she should have done this sooner. She tipped back her hat to meet Travis’s gaze. “I’m afraid there’s a slight problem.”

  She swung off of her horse and removed her bulky jacket, hanging it on the saddle horn. Snatching her sombrero from her head, Angel allowed her hair to cascade over her shoulders.

  Chapter Four

  Travis gazed into the dust-smudged visage of what must surely be a woman. He noted the long black curls and the wide brown eyes. The perfectly formed lips and her now obvious curves contradicted her attire, not to mention the gun strapped to her hip. His gaze strayed downward almost without his permission and flew back to her face, his own burning with shame. He’d never gawked at a woman’s figure before, and he’d have to repent for that later. Yes, he could definitely attest that this was a woman.

  Nate cleared his throat. “Guess I’d best check on the men and horses, Boss.” He removed his hat and nodded. “Ma’am.” Just as quickly as he’d arrived, he turned tail and ran—like a scared jack-rabbit fleeing from a hawk. The least he could’ve done was stay and help Travis dig out of this hole. Travis shoved his hat to the back of his head.

  He faced the girl again. Large eyes stared up into his. He’d thought his sister’s pretty, but these dark pools left him short of breath. “Who are you?” His words came out rough, and he noted the sharp intake of the girl’s breath.

  “Angel Ramirez.” She withdrew the sombrero from under her arm and shoved it back onto her black curls.

  He waited, sorting through his memory.

  She lifted one shoulder and sighed. “Angel de Luca Ramirez.” She paused another moment. “Angelo de Luca. The tracker and horseman you sent
for.”

  Travis felt as though he’d been bucked from a bronco and the wind knocked from him. He couldn’t believe it—wouldn’t believe it. Women didn’t work for a living and pass themselves off as men. What he’d give to only have Libby’s expectations to deal with. He groaned. Now there were two strong-willed women on the ranch, and he didn’t feel equipped to deal with either.

  Angel stared at the man who held her future in his hands and waited. If she didn’t land this job, she was finished. His blue gaze, deeper than a desert spring, made something flutter in her chest. But from his stern look he was none too happy with her information.

  Then the stunned expression slowly softened to one of disbelief. “I beg your pardon?” His words held a hint of amusement. “I sent my telegram to a man, not a woman.”

  Angel stiffened. The last thing she’d tolerate was someone laughing at her. She’d earned her place, and no one would take that away. “You sent your telegram to me.” She jabbed her thumb toward her chest. “I am Angelo de Luca. But my real name is Angel de Luca Ramirez.”

  A grin creased Travis’s face, setting off a dimple in the corner of his cheek. “So who put you up to this? One of my cowboys?” He turned away and stared at the man standing nearby. “Nate. Who hired this girl to pretend to be de Luca? The jig is up, but it was a good joke.” He turned to Angel. “They find you in the dance hall?”

  Angel’s blood thrummed in her ears. The smell of fresh-cut hay permeated the air, lending a false feeling of contentment in sharp contrast to the charged atmosphere.

  She uttered a low cry and leapt at the man, swinging her closed fist. There’d been plenty of times growing up where she’d had to fight the boys in the band, and she’d learned to hold her own. Her knuckles connected with the man’s chin, and he staggered backward.