Love Finds You in Sundance, Wyoming

by Miralee Ferrell

  Arizona threw his hands in a wide gesture and shook his head. “We didn’t do any such thing, Boss. Miss Libby, she took the presents we brought to Miss Angel and she perked right up. We got to see her through the open door. She loved the flowers I gave her.” He preened like a peacock strutting in front of its mate.

  Travis shook his head. Sometimes he wondered why he kept the cocky, good-looking cowboy, the way he went on about women. But Arizona had a good heart and was one of the best hands he’d ever hired. Too bad his curly blond hair and square-jawed good looks had drawn so much attention from the fair sex over the years. He needed to settle down and get married. The thought jolted him. What if Arizona were interested in Angel and she in him? They’d make a handsome pair. But Angel? He shook his head, not liking the direction his thoughts had taken him.

  “Something wrong, Boss?” Wren stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “If you don’t need nothin’ else, I reckon we’d best get to work.”

  “Yeah, I agree.” Arizona sauntered toward the door. “I want to rustle and finish up. Miss Angel said I could come back and visit her later.” He grinned and headed for the door, whistling a jaunty tune.

  “Hold it, men.” Travis stepped toward them. “No one visits Angel today. The doctor said she needs quiet and sleep. He’s coming back in the morning, but until then, she’s off limits.”

  Arizona let out a loud groan. “But I promised her I’d come. What’s she gonna think of me?”

  Travis smiled and clapped Arizona on the shoulder. “I’ll be sure and tell her you wanted to come, when I sit with her later tonight.”

  Wren elbowed Arizona and whispered something too low to hear. Arizona growled in return, scowled, and stalked out the door.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Later that evening Travis knocked gently on Angel’s door and waited. He’d seen her anxiety when he’d escorted the doctor here yesterday, and he didn’t want to upset her if she were awake.

  The door eased open, and Libby beckoned him inside. “She’s sleeping. I hate leaving her, but I’m having trouble staying awake.”

  Travis slipped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “I’m sorry. Guess I should’ve come sooner.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Angel only fell asleep less than an hour ago. It’s better this way.”

  “Anything I need to know?”

  “She’s past the point of danger, but watch for signs of restlessness. If her face is flushed or her skin warm to the touch, you’ll need to bathe her forehead with cool water.”

  “All right. Have a good night, Lib.” Travis patted her arm and smiled. “Doc Simmons says you’re a first-rate nurse and missed your calling.”

  Libby shrugged. “It’s nice feeling useful, besides just cooking and cleaning.” She slipped out the door and eased it shut behind her.

  Travis made his way to the chair near the edge of Angel’s bed and sank into it with a quiet grunt. Libby must still be struggling with living here and he couldn’t blame her. Nothing but rough men surrounded her most of the time, and more work than she was accustomed to. Maybe he should try to find a woman to move in and help. That would give Libby more time with James. He’d meant to talk to the boy regarding the sheriff’s concerns. He and Libby would have to tackle that issue soon.

  His gaze rested on the still form burrowed under the covers, her face and hair peeking out from the blanket. How small she appeared. Warmth crept up into his cheeks and he averted his gaze. What would Angel think if she knew he was sitting beside her bed? Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be seemly, but what else could he do? Libby shouldn’t be expected to care for her alone, and he certainly wouldn’t send one of his cowboys in here.

  The memory of Arizona’s request smote him hard. The man seemed infatuated with Angel, and according to him, she’d welcomed his attention. He should be happy for Arizona, as his cowboy seemed lonely since arriving at the ranch. But the picture of Arizona and Angel making a life together left a sour taste in his mouth.

  He looked around the room, which was dimly lit by a lantern perched on the bureau. Its glow cast fingers of light in a shallow circle. He’d planned this room for guests, with the hope that someday his father might visit. But Father’s presence had never graced his home.

  A barely audible moan came from a few feet away. “Thirsty.” Her slender hand escaped from the covers and stretched toward him.

  Travis nearly toppled the chair in his haste to get the water. He’d not expected her to wake. Maybe she’d drink and slip back into sleep, never realizing who’d sat beside her. His hand trembled as he lifted the pitcher and tipped it over the glass. He then stepped across to Angel’s bedside and offered the drink without a word, holding his breath and praying she’d take it without noting his presence.

  Her fingers twitched, and her arm dropped to the top of the quilt. “Help me, Libby? Don’t think I can sit up alone.”

  Travis stifled a groan. Now what? Should he call Libby or urge Angel to try? Surely it wouldn’t be proper to help Angel sit up. He’d have to touch her to do that.

  He wrestled with the dilemma for nearly a minute, hating himself for the battle raging inside. On the range he had no problem making a quick and accurate judgment, even when danger lurked. But he’d never felt as great a danger as he sensed now, with this black-haired beauty lying so close. What was he afraid of? Sure she was a beautiful woman, but she was his employee, not his sweetheart.

  “Libby?” Angel struggled to sit on her own, then fell back with a whimper.

  He stepped closer and leaned over the bed, praying he wouldn’t startle her. “It’s not Libby. It’s me. Travis.”

  She gasped, but Travis couldn’t see her face with his body blocking the lantern’s light.

  “Shh, it’s all right. I’ll help you sit if you need me to.”

  “What—are you—doing here?” She forced the words through clenched teeth. “Where’s Libby?”

  He sank back into the chair. “She needed sleep, and I sent her to bed.”

  “But why you?”

  “There’s no one else I trust to care for you.” The words startled him with the starkness of their truth. “Smokey might have been all right, but he has to be up early to fix breakfast.”

  “Arizona or Wren?” The whisper was almost too low to hear.

  “Didn’t seem like a good idea.” He lifted the glass and rose to his feet again. “Let me help you.”

  “No!” She braced one elbow under herself and pushed, grunting with the exertion. “I—can—do it.”

  Travis reached out his free hand to help, but she shook her head and glared. “No.” Angel struggled to rise, and beads of sweat popped out on her forehead. When she achieved the halfway point she paused, her arm shaking, then fell back against the pillow. “Go. Please. I’ll just sleep.”

  “I’m afraid not, young lady.” Travis had had enough. It was a good thing his father switched him hard the one time he’d let loose with a curse word, or he’d surely be using one now. What a stubborn, mule-headed woman. “You need water, and I’m going to help you, like it or not. We can’t have your fever returning.” He leaned over the bed and started to slip his hand under her neck when a lone tear trickled down her cheek.

  She turned her head away.

  Travis nearly buckled. That tear was like a kick in the gut by a wild steer. What was he doing in this woman’s room, forcing his presence on her? He’d made her cry, and he doubted that Angel Ramirez cried easily. He steeled himself and carefully slid his hand under her neck and lifted, then placed the glass to her lips.

  She raised her good arm and grasped the glass with strong fingers, drinking eagerly. Travis waited until she’d almost drained it and gently laid her back down. His hand tingled, and a tremor ran up his arm. He must be getting weak. Angel didn’t weigh a thing, and it had been no effort at all to hold her, but here he was, shaking like a boy battling his first crush. “Did you get enough?”

  “Ye
s, thank you.” Her normally firm voice was hesitant. “I’d like to go back to sleep, if you don’t mind.”

  “Certainly. I’ll just sit quietly and try not to bother you. Would you like me to douse the lantern?”

  “No. Leave it. I don’t want…” She bit her lip.

  “Want what?” He leaned forward, afraid he’d miss the answer, but none came. “Angel?” Travis longed to comfort her but knew his touch wouldn’t be welcomed.

  “Nothing. I’m fine.” She turned her head away.

  Angel fought to open her heavy eyelids. She’d gone to sleep and dreamed of the room being black as sin and a stranger slipping in through the door. He’d walked to her bed and bent over, his leering smile sending a sliver of fear into her heart. Had something like that happened in her past? Why was her blood pounding through her veins like a runaway horse? Surely no man would enter her room without her permission.

  A vague image stirred. Uncle José’s voice growling low and the click of a gun. Heavy footsteps leaving her room and a savage curse drifting back on the night air. Had it been a dream, or was her mind trying to tell her something?

  She rolled over onto her side facing the door, and her body jerked. A man sat slumped in the chair nearby, his head lolling to the side. Had the man she’d dreamt about come back? Where was her gun? Her numbed brain couldn’t remember. She’d put it under the edge of her bed, instead of her pillow.

  A whiffling snore broke from his lips. Travis.

  Angel scooted a couple of inches closer to the wall and relaxed. But Libby had been here when she drifted off to sleep, hadn’t she? The afternoon and evening blurred together in her mind, and she worked to separate reality from the dreamlike state she’d fallen into the past few hours. A hazy memory returned of a hand slipping under her neck and someone lifting a glass to her lips. She’d been so very thirsty, but not too long ago the consuming thirst had abated. Had Travis talked to her and given her a drink before she fell back into a troubled sleep? How long had he been here, and why?

  She remembered the four cowboys coming to see her earlier with an assortment of gifts. Arizona had actually blushed when he’d offered his bouquet of wildflowers drooping over his clasped fist. She sensed that the cowboy was sweet on her, and it gave her a strange feeling inside. More than once in the past she’d had a low-down outlaw look at her in a way that made her cringe, but not once had a decent young man showered her with gifts or kind words. She’d longed for somewhere to fit in, and often wondered if she’d ever have a home of her own. Might Arizona—?

  Travis shifted, grunted, and eased upright, shaking his head. He mumbled something Angel couldn’t understand and slowly slid back into the chair.

  Angel wished she could reach the glass of water on her own, but her arm throbbed and she doubted she could creep out of bed without waking her boss. “Are you awake, Travis?”

  He straightened so quickly the chair rocked. “Huh? What?” He turned his head back and forth, then fixed his bleary eyes on her. “Angel? How come…?”

  “You’re in my room? I was hoping you could tell me.” She paused. “After you give me a drink of water.”

  “Water?” He ran his hand over his head, making the dark brown locks stick out several different directions. “Oh. I’ll get it.” The glass sat on a small, round table close to his elbow, and he passed it over to her outstretched hand. “Need some help?”

  “No. I’m better. Thanks.” Angel put her feet flat against the mattress, pushed herself higher on her pillow, then drew the blanket up under her chin. A long, slow drink moistened her dry mouth. She sighed and handed the glass back to him. “Sorry to wake you.”

  Travis set it carefully on the table and grunted. “I’m the one who should apologize. I can’t believe I fell asleep.” He grimaced, looking like a little boy who’d been caught doing something naughty. “You go back to sleep, and I’ll stay awake in case you need anything.”

  Angel slid back against her pillow. “I don’t think I’ll be able to now. Seems like all I’ve done lately is sleep.”

  “How do you feel?” He extended his hand toward her and hesitated. “I’m supposed to keep an eye on you, in case you have a fever again. Do you mind if I touch your forehead?”

  She squirmed and tried not to shrink back. How silly to mind Travis’s touch. José placed a cool cloth on her head when she had a fever one time and smoothed his hand over her hair. His touch soothed her thrashing and calmed her so she could sleep. But Travis wasn’t her uncle. “Sure. I guess it’s all right.”

  Travis placed gentle fingers against her skin and let them rest there for several moments. Angel felt as though her skin were on fire.

  “You feel cool. No sign of a fever that I can tell.” He sat back in his chair and grinned. “The doctor will be back this morning.” He glanced out the window at the lightening sky. “Hopefully you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

  Angel winced. “Don’t worry. I’ll be able to ride in another day or so. A couple of scratches aren’t going to keep me down.” Weariness pulled at her. “I think I’ll rest now. I guess I’m tired, after all.”

  Travis sat frozen, unsure whether to speak or allow Angel to sleep. She needed her rest, but he hated the impression he’d once again planted in her mind. “Angel?” She lay silent, unmoving, but he couldn’t let this go. “I’d like to talk to you for another minute.” He waited, his gut tense and his mouth dry.

  She didn’t turn her head. “I need to sleep.”

  “I know.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “I apologize for how that sounded. I keep putting my foot in my mouth, and I’m sorry. Take as long as you need to, before you go back to work.” Travis sat up and squared his shoulders. “In fact, I insist that you listen to the doctor and don’t overdo. You mustn’t have a setback.”

  He sighed. “And not because of your job. I care about you. As a person, not just as an employee.” He felt like he was stumbling over his words.

  She didn’t appear convinced. She kept her gaze averted, and her teeth worried her lower lip.

  “Angel? Would you look at me? Please?”

  Her lovely face swiveled his direction, but no smile softened her features. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll be fine and back to work soon.”

  He blew his breath out hard between his lips. “I meant what I said.” He struggled to push out the words. “When I hired you, I had serious doubts about you doing the job, but I’ve changed my mind.” The air around them grew still. He was intent on continuing his explanation, when a gentle knock sounded at the door.

  “Travis?” The door opened a few inches, and Libby peeked around the edge. “I thought I heard voices. Is Angel awake?”

  Travis leaned back hard against the chair, not knowing whether to feel irritated or relieved. Had Angel even heard the last thing he’d said? Her gaze was trained on Libby, and he pushed to his feet, frustrated at the interruption. “Yes, and she’s all yours, Libby. I’ll get to my chores and see you at breakfast.”

  Travis chanced a quick look at Angel before leaving the room, but she’d already closed her eyes. So much for trying to explain. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the door. There was work to do, and plenty of it—and no time to stand around regretting what hadn’t been said.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Travis tossed back his blanket and swung his feet to the floor, grimacing as his bare skin made contact with the cold wood. Early June mornings in Wyoming still had a bite. He passed his knuckles over his eyes. What he’d give for a couple more hours of sleep. He’d spelled Libby again last night, but she’d come in the wee hours and insisted he rest for a while. He didn’t know whether he was thankful or disappointed that Angel had slept the entire time he’d sat beside her.

  During the day yesterday there’d been no opportunity to talk about the misunderstanding of the night before. He’d make a point of speaking to her today. Doc Simmons had seemed satisfied with her progress when he’d stopped by
yesterday, insisting she was on the mend.

  A yawn slipped out. He stifled it and grabbed his jeans. Slipping into his cotton shirt and splashing water on his face, he forced himself to take his time and not rush out the door. No sense in accosting Angel this early in the morning.

  Travis rolled his shoulders, hoping to ease the tension. Why in the world was he tense over talking to one of his employees? He snatched at the towel hanging on a hook next to the bureau. After all, he was the boss and Angel—well, Angel was…

  His thoughts stalled. He shoved his hat onto his head and bolted for the door.

  At the top of the stairs he slowed his pace, keenly aware of the hush lying over the house. James would still be rolled in his blankets and Angel undoubtedly slept. Clomping down the stairs with his hard-heeled boots beating a tattoo might wake his family, so he eased down the staircase, gripping the oak handrail.

  A soft metal thump in the kitchen made him pick up the pace. Libby stood, frowning at the stove.

  “Libby? I didn’t expect to see you in here yet. Is Angel sleeping?”

  Libby swung away from the stove and brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. “Yes. And I don’t understand this cookstove. The cantankerous thing won’t light, and I want a pot of coffee.”

  Travis opened the cast-iron door of the stove. He peered inside and chuckled. “You can’t start a fire with just a log and paper, Lib. You’ve got to use kindling.” He withdrew the chunk of split wood, set it on the hearth, and reached into the bin next to the stove for a handful of kindling. The small box of matches lay within easy reach on a shelf, and he struck one against the side of the oven. A few moments later he dusted off his hands and shut the door. “The draft needs to be open. If it doesn’t get air, the wood won’t burn.”