Love Finds You in Sundance, Wyoming

by Miralee Ferrell

  He raised one brow. “Go ahead.”

  “She can work in the house. I need someone to help with the cooking and cleaning, and this girl would be ideal.”

  Travis shook his head. “No. She has a job, and she’ll be at it most of the day—sometimes well into the evening.”

  Libby pushed down a frown. “All of the men take two meals here, and Smokey can’t keep up with all the work. I help clean up after we’re finished, and do all the laundry, as well as changing the linens and trying to keep up with the dust that blows in, and the mud you track in. Think of the time I could give to the garden. We’d have fresh vegetables instead of relying on so many canned items from the store.”

  “I’m sorry, but I made a promise when I hired her. She said she won’t do household chores and I agreed. I’m in a bind and don’t have a choice.”

  Frustration rose in Libby’s breast and she scowled, not caring if it made him angry. “You can pay for a woman to track down poor animals, but you can’t hire any household help?” She jumped from her seat. “I’m sorry you think so little of your own family, Travis.”

  “That’s enough, Lib. You know she’s not tracking down ‘poor animals,’ but deadly wolves killing my stock. The very same stock whose sale puts food on the table and keeps this place going. Besides, she’ll be busy riding some of the young horses, as well.” He grasped the arms of the chair and pushed to his feet. “The time might come when we bring a woman in to help, but not now. I imagine Miss Ramirez will take care of her own laundry, although she doesn’t appear to have an abundance of clothing. Any other household chores will continue to fall on you.”

  When he walked toward the door, hopelessness swamped Libby. This Western life was too hard, too demanding. Papa had catered to everything Mother wanted when Libby was growing up—but then after Mother’s death, he’d changed too. As much as she loved Travis, she wouldn’t have chosen to live here instead of with Papa, but Papa had grown so cold and demanding these past few years.

  Loneliness had been her constant companion after her husband’s death. She’d hoped to make a friend in the area, but the ranches were so far apart, and one church service per week didn’t afford much time to get acquainted. Most of the women had their own households to look after and couldn’t traipse around the country visiting heartsick widows.

  She’d make the best of these circumstances with this new employee. Maybe the woman was lonely, as well, and in need of a friend. Surely when Miss Ramirez finished her outside chores, she’d understand the need to help inside—and work shared by a friend always seemed lighter. Yes. Her mood lifted, and hope surged into her mind. Living in this desolate wilderness might be endurable now. This new situation could easily be an answer to her prayers.

  Angel rested her palm lightly on the butt of her revolver as the two cowboys edged closer. The tall, blond, handsome one covered the remaining few yards with a long stride while the short, bowlegged cowboy hobbled along beside him. Both wore horsehair chaps, dusty boots, and the tall one had a gun on his hip. A day’s stubble edged the jaw of the shorter man, while the other’s shone as though recently groomed. If it weren’t for the gun, she’d think the man a dandy.

  They halted a couple of yards away and stared, then leaned close together and whispered. The short one raised his hands, grinned, and backed off a step. The well-built cowpoke hooked his thumbs into the leather waistband of his chaps and sauntered forward. “Howdy, ma’am. Nice day, ain’t it?” He grinned and waited for her reply.

  Angel gawked at the man, then swung her gaze to his partner. What did they want? She relaxed her grip on her revolver.

  As the silence stretched, the man’s grin faded, and a red stain crept up his neck and into his cheeks. He dropped his head and scuffed his boot in the dust. “Guess I didn’t learn the manners my mama tried to teach me.” His shoulders squared, and he raised his chin. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, I shoulda introduced myself.”

  His friend grabbed his arm and hissed close to his ear, “Let’s slope out of here. You done made an idj’t of yerself.” They took a step back, the shorter man still clutching the taller one’s arm.

  Angel broke from her stupor. “Wait. What are your names?”

  The bowlegged cowboy’s ears turned pink, and he yanked the hat from his head. “I’m Wren, and this here long drink of water is Arizona.”

  The cowboy in question withdrew his hat and bowed from the waist, leaning over until his sombrero almost swept the ground. He rose back up and laid his hat over his heart. “I am mighty pleased to meet you, ma’am. Sorry we got off on the wrong foot.” Arizona shot a quick glance at Wren and took a step toward Angel. “You’re some handy with that sidearm and rifle, and a purty woman to boot. Where’d you learn to shoot so good?”

  Angel’s smile faded. “My uncle taught me.”

  Wren edged closer. “He must be a fine man. Don’t know too many uncles what would learn a girl to shoot.”

  She stiffened. “Yes.” These two cowpokes were getting too personal. “I need to get my things.” Angel turned on her heel and strode toward her horse. Time to put Bella up and find her a bait of grain.

  “Aw, Wren, why’d you have to go and spook her? She was just warming up to us and you spoiled it.” Arizona’s drawl drifted after Angel as she sought refuge inside the barn.

  Travis let the front door bang behind him. Maybe he should ease up on Libby and not expect so much. After all, she’d experienced a difficult loss a short time ago and was still adjusting to Western life. He settled his hat onto his head. Time to regain control of this day.

  Heading toward the barn, he drew up short. James was standing at the nearly closed door of the barn, peeking inside. “James! What’re you doing?”

  The boy leapt as if shot. “Nothin’, Uncle Travis. Honest.”

  “I hope you’re not bothering Miss Ramirez.”

  “She’s going to help me learn to shoot better.”

  Travis wagged his head and stifled a groan. “I didn’t hire her to spend time with you.”

  The boy dropped his eyes but not before Travis saw a glint of something—anger…rebellion?

  James spun away from Travis. “I’ll go see if Ma needs me.” He raced away from the barn.

  It was bad enough that his cowboys were smitten with the woman, but James as well? He hoped the boy wasn’t spying on Angelo. Angel. Miss Ramirez. He ground his teeth. What was he supposed to call the woman, anyway? Most of the men had nicknames, or went by their last name. No one stood on formality with a hand on a ranch, but he didn’t see himself calling her Angel. What kind of name was that for a girl, anyway?

  How did he get saddled with a female cowhand who was too fetching for her own good? He hadn’t been smitten with a woman since he was nineteen, and boy howdy, he’d guard his heart against this one if it was the last thing he did. Making the ranch a success must remain his top priority. He’d be hanged if he’d let his men forget it. First thing, he’d ask around about someone who could take her place. Trouble wearing britches didn’t belong on his ranch.

  Chapter Six

  Angel swung her feet over the edge of the narrow mattress and stared around the room, prodding her memory like a rogue steer. She rubbed the small of her back and winced. After three years of bunking on the hard ground, this bed was a mite too soft.

  It looked like the sun had risen at least a half hour ago, and sounds of breakfast preparations came from beyond her door. Angel’s heart sank at the thought of sitting down to a meal with all those people. The boss had mentioned having his cowboys share the meals with his family. Social skills were not her strong suit.

  A glance around her room revealed a tall bureau with a small oval mirror above it. An earthenware basin, pitcher, hairbrush, and comb set rested on top of a fancy bit of lace. She crossed the room and reached out a hesitant hand, touching the pitcher. What beautiful colors. A heart hunger rose inside her. She snatched back her hand and gripped it with her other one. How foolish. She was a t
racker. Not a woman deserving of pretty things.

  She started to turn away but paused when she glimpsed herself in the mirror. Black curls hung in disarray well past her shoulders, and touches of dust smudged her cheeks. Somehow she’d missed a few spots before falling into bed last night. Dare she use the hairbrush and comb? And maybe even the ribbon lying alongside? Braiding her hair would keep it out of her way, and surely Mrs. Waters—Libby, as she’d asked to be called—wouldn’t have left the items if she wasn’t to use them.

  Five minutes later she stared with satisfaction at her image—neat and presentable, even if she did feel a little strange sporting a ribbon on the end of her braid. With her hair pulled back, maybe the men wouldn’t be so apt to gawk. They might even forget she was a woman, when they saw her packing a rifle and wearing her denim trousers each day.

  Angel cracked her door and peered out. Three men stood nearby, talking and laughing. Libby glided past, carrying a platter of fried potatoes. Angel’s mouth watered, and her stomach growled. No more lollygagging in her room. She stepped out into the short hallway and in two quiet strides arrived at the dining area.

  Silence fell over the group gathered near the long table. Arizona raised his head and stared. “Well, I’ll be jigged. I wasn’t dreaming yesterday, Wren. She’s a looker, just like I said.”

  Wren elbowed his partner and scowled. “Shut yer trap, you dinged fool.”

  Angel swung her warm gaze away from the men, willing her color to return to normal. Men at the outlaw camp had bantered and tossed ribald comments at the women, and she’d hardly noticed.

  If only she could resume her role as a man. She’d been stupid to reveal her womanhood, and now she’d pay, just like some of the women at her old camp. She hitched at her belt and raised her chin. Her gun. It would stand between her and these men, if need be. Arizona seemed harmless, but you never knew.

  Arizona slapped his forehead. “Golly! I’m plumb sorry, Miss. Wren here is right. I’m a fool, no two ways about it.” He bent pleading eyes on her and mustered a weak smile. “Can you forgive me. Agin?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but a young voice piped into the silence. “Where’s your gun, Miss Angel? Are you going to shoot wolves today? Can I come with you?” The questions tumbled from James’s lips, his voice breaking in a high note on the last words. He winced and cleared his throat. “If it’s all right with Uncle Travis.”

  Libby plunked a platter of beefsteak on the table and turned with her hands on her hips. “It certainly is not all right with me, young man. I’m sure Miss Ramirez will have enough to do without you getting in her way. Besides, you know what I think about you shooting animals.”

  Resentment flashed across the boy’s face. He hung his head and kicked his toe against the wood floor. “Yes, Ma.”

  Travis clapped James on the back and ushered him toward the table. “Enough talk. The food’s getting cold.” He turned toward Angel and nodded at the chair on the far side. “Why don’t you sit there? Libby has the seat beside you.”

  Angel wasn’t sure which was worse—trying to avoid the smitten cowboys or making conversation with Libby Waters. The woman was polite enough on the surface, but in her gut Angel knew Libby wasn’t happy about her living here. She drew out the chair and sank onto its hard surface. Everything would look better when she was in the saddle and on her own.

  Libby smoothed the napkin on her lap and chanced a peek at the strange woman sitting beside her. Angel Ramirez had been silent most of the meal, with only an occasional yes or no. Libby had tried to draw her out but got little return. She gave a mental shrug. The young woman wouldn’t fit at any society party that she’d encountered— why, she didn’t even seem comfortable in a roomful of men.

  Part of her felt sorry for the girl. She seemed so alone—unsure of herself. Although that hadn’t been the case when Miss Ramirez shot at the coins. Libby frowned. What made a woman want to dress like a man and hunt animals? Every woman she’d known enjoyed improving her feminine skills, eager to preside over her own home one day. All her life, she’d hungered for a family of her own—a husband who cherished her and a house full of happy children. George had loved her the best way he knew how, but she’d never known true contentment.

  She shook off the troubling feelings. The last thing she wanted was a strange, taciturn woman underfoot. But she would be kind. Since early childhood she’d been taught to be polite. Not to be rude. Accept. Smile. Be gracious.

  Her shoulders slumped. This was not her home. It belonged to her brother, and he set the rules. She would do this. She would tolerate this woman playing at being a man and even be courteous.

  Maybe this Angel person might one day be a friend.

  She almost laughed aloud at the thought and chanced another glance at the girl. No. She’d wager Angel wouldn’t last long enough for that to happen. Travis wasn’t happy about the arrangement, and from the stubborn set of the girl’s face, neither was she.

  Travis sat at the end of the table and kicked himself. Why had he put that woman so close? He could have placed Libby beside him, then his new hand, then James, and still protect her from the moonstruck cowboys. And why should he protect her, anyway? She’d posed as a man all this time and surely could take care of herself.

  He twisted in his seat and raised his voice above the hubbub. “Smokey. Got any more of those flapjacks?”

  The portly cook bustled out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on an apron and raising bushy brows. “More?” He eyed the empty platter and let out a guffaw, his breath wheezing between parted lips. “Wren, you hawg! How does a man your size put away so much food?”

  Wren looked up from his plate piled six deep and grinned, the fork poised inches from his mouth. “I work circles around the rest of these geezers.”

  The room erupted in hoots and would have continued had Travis not lifted his hand. “All right, men, let’s show a little respect for the ladies.” He nodded toward Libby and Angel, and the room instantly quieted.

  Bud plucked his napkin from his lap, swiped at his lips, and covered a belch. “Sorry, ma’am.” Color rose in his cheeks.

  “Ha! You blush better than any woman I ever did see, Bud.” Arizona crowed the words. “Now your face matches your hair, jest fine and dandy.”

  Bud dropped his napkin and leaned forward, all sign of merriment gone. “Want to meet me outside and see who’s a woman, cowpoke?”

  Arizona pushed back his chair, the legs scraping the floor. “Sure thing, pard. Let’s have at it.”

  Angel emitted a strangled sound and turned her head, but not before Travis saw amusement dance in her eyes.

  Libby gasped, and her fingers flew to her lips. “Oh my. Travis, are you going to allow your men to fight?”

  Travis wagged his head and sighed. “The next cowpoke who opens his mouth when he shouldn’t stays here and builds the new branding pen.”

  Immediate silence fell, and all heads bent over their meal. Forks scraped across plates in the still room. Travis grunted with satisfaction and hazarded a look at his sister. Poor Libby. The past few months had been hard on her. She’d come from a genteel background and married a man who’d treated her like fine china. Had it not been for their mother insisting Libby learn to cook and clean while growing up, she’d be helpless. It hadn’t been easy on her, moving so far from society. He needed to pray for his sister instead of allowing himself to get irritated.

  A motion on his left pulled him that direction. Angel Ramirez carefully folded her napkin and placed it beside her plate. “I’d like to get to work now, if you don’t mind?”

  Her quiet voice surprised him. Why had he thought her rough and uncouth last night? She’d begged off having the evening meal with them, saying she wasn’t hungry and needed to sleep. This was the first time he’d seen her up close with her hair braided and face scrubbed. Her sun-kissed skin was the color of a golden panther, and her dark eyes smoldered with an emotion he couldn’t quite peg.

  Trouble. Beauti
ful trouble, but nevertheless, still trouble. He’d better ride herd on his men for the next few days, or they’d stampede after this girl like wild buffalo in the middle of a lightning storm. He tossed his napkin on top of his plate, his appetite gone. “Sure thing. Come to my office, and I’ll show you on the map where we’ve sighted the wolf packs over the past few weeks.” He turned toward the kitchen again. “Smokey?”

  The cook stepped back into view. “Yeah, Boss?”

  “Pack a lunch for Miss Ramirez. She’ll be out all day.”

  “Sure thing.” The man grinned, exposing a gold tooth. “I’ll whip you up something special for your first day, Miss.”

  Angel pushed back her chair and stood. “A couple of biscuits and a slice of leftover beef will do. I’ll get my rifle and meet you in your office.”

  Travis nodded. “On the far side of the living room there’s a door. The window in my office looks out over the barn and corrals.”

  A hush fell over the room.

  A low whistle came from somewhere down the table and Travis turned his head, staring at each of his men in turn. Not one sheepish look graced the countenance of a single cowboy, but admiration appeared in nearly every set of eyes. Including James’s. He might have more trouble than he’d bargained for.

  He shoved his chair back and launched to his feet. “All right, you big-eyed calves. Get to work or find a new job.”

  All four men jumped to their feet and bolted for the door, barely looking back with a mumbled “ma’am” toward Libby. Of the cowboys, only his manager, Nate, remained, and he shook his head, not meeting Travis’s gaze.

  Travis glared at his foreman. “They’re your responsibility today. I’m riding out with Miss Ramirez to show her some of the landmarks. Keep those boys close to the ranch, even if you put them to building fence. One of them shows up dogging our new hand, and he’s done.

  Got it?”