The Rancher Takes a Cowgirl

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The Rancher Takes a Cowgirl Page 10

by Misty M. Beller


  Who was she kidding, his greed would last much longer on that score. But if she wore a dress to town, she would blend in with the other women. Nothing about her would be memorable if a stranger came to town asking questions.

  She glanced up to meet Monty’s gaze. “I’d love to.”

  ~ ~ ~

  GRACE HELD THE burgundy dress to her chest in the mirror and examined her reflection. The dark color was too formal for a Saturday outing. She tossed it on the bed and picked up her blue cotton. Even with the lace trimming, this was still more fitting for the day.

  She stared into the mirror. What was she doing accepting this man’s proposal, even for a simple outing together? She couldn’t get involved with him. There was too much chance she’d have to run again. Leonard’s connections spread too far. His greed ran way too deep to give up before he’d found her. Found the treasure.

  But she couldn’t let him have it, no matter what. To him, it meant only riches. But to her, it was her heritage. The very reason for her existence.

  Turning, she padded to the bed and sank onto it, still clutching the dress to her chest. What was she going to do? Part of her wanted to go with Monty more than she wanted to breathe again. But was it wise?

  No, definitely not wise. Could she get away with just today? She’d have to keep her distance from him. And keep her pistol tucked in her boot.

  But she could do it. Just for today, she would allow herself to enjoy each minute as it came. But not get too close to the man by her side.

  Chapter Thirteen

  MONTY WHISTLED THE tune to “Sweet Betsy from Pike” as he cut a sideways glance at the woman on the wagon seat beside him. She sure was a pretty thing in that blue dress. Pretty enough to make him want to sit and stare. And he could probably get away with it too, because she’d not offered more than a single look and maybe a sentence or two since they’d left Double Rocking B property a half hour ago.

  What was running through her mind? Grace had never been a magpie, but today her silence stretched between them like the width of the Rio Bravo. Had he made her angry? Lord, I’m no good at this courting stuff. Is that why you’ve kept me from women all these years? Give me wisdom.

  He licked his parched lips to bring some moisture back into them. “Any place special you’d like to stop in town? I need to go by the mercantile and the saddlery. Other than that, the day’s yours.”

  She spared him a glance, then turned back to the countryside as it eased past. “I don’t know. The mercantile, sure. Maybe just a drive through the rest of the town to see what it’s like. I’ve not been any closer than our round-up camp.”

  He studied her. “Not even before you joined on at the ranch?” How had she known where to find them if she hadn’t come through town? The main road to the Double Rocking B fed straight through Seguin. Surely she hadn’t been roaming the countryside and stumbled onto the ranch buildings.

  She glanced at the horses and shrugged. She still hadn’t met his gaze, but at least she didn’t have her back to him now. “No, not through Seguin.”

  “So did you hear about our ranch in San Antonio?”

  “I knew there were several ranches taking on help. The area looked nice, so I stopped in at the first place that seemed to be kept up decently well.”

  Not a direct answer, but he’d let it slide this time. He just needed to keep her talking. “How long was the trip from California?”

  Her mouth pinched, hiding those full lips he could still taste. “About five months.”

  “Five months?” He didn’t bite back the words before they slipped out. She could have walked from California in less time. “You must not have taken a direct route then.”

  She shrugged again, then glanced down at her hands. “Just saw the countryside.”

  Monty followed her gaze down. Her fingers were interlaced, clasped tightly enough to show white at the knuckles, but the thumbs played a back-and-forth game. First one on top, then the other. Was she nervous about something? Or bored?

  Either way, the whole point of today was for her to have a pleasant time. He’d do well to find a better topic.

  “Got a letter from Bo the other day.”

  She perked up and finally looked his way. “They made it home safely?”

  He nodded. “Miranda’s still feeling poorly, but he said the children asked about you.”

  “Asked about me?”

  The corner of his mouth tugged into a grin. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “Paul and Sandria were so sweet but…I didn’t think they’d even remember my name.”

  He tightened the reins to slow the horses as the wagon picked up speed down a hill. As soon as he could spare his attention from the road, he turned to capture Grace’s gaze. “You’re a very memorable woman, Grace.”

  She blanched, part of the color slipping from her face. Uncomfortable with his words?

  He pressed on anyway. “How could they not love you? It’d be hard for anyone not to.”

  There. He’d planted a seed. He held her gaze for another moment, the edge of his vision catching the steady rise and fall of her chest.

  The road turned, and he had to move his focus back to steering the team. Let that give her something to think about.

  ~ ~ ~

  THE WHITE LIMECRETE wall around Seguin perched in the distance as Grace took in the view. She was almost sad to see the quiet ride with Monty end.

  His words about her being memorable had spooked her, though. Memorable was the very last word she wanted to apply to herself. So memorable a passerby would recognize her from a description in a newspaper? She had no doubt Leonard had advertisements in every paper west of the Mississippi. Probably the eastern ones, too.

  As they neared the opening in the whitewashed wall and the clean rows of buildings forming the pretty town, Grace reached under the bench seat for the stylish bonnet Anna had loaned her. “I suppose I should put this on so I don’t embarrass you.” And so she wouldn’t be recognized as easily, although the brim of this hat barely shaded half her face.

  A smile played at the corners of Monty’s mouth. “You could have come in your vest and chaps and it wouldn’t have bothered me.”

  Heat flamed up her neck before she had a chance to press it down. The way Monty’s dark eyes soaked into her right now was not at all like a ranch foreman to a hired hand.

  He parked the wagon in front of a building sporting “Theo Koch’s Saddlery” in black painted letters across the front. “I just need to drop some saddles off, but you can come in if you like.”

  As Grace stepped through the open front door, the smell of leather wrapped around her. There was nothing quite like that wonderful, spicy aroma. She closed her eyes and inhaled, then opened them and moved to the closest saddle display. A rich mahogany color, with a star shape carved into the skirt on either side.

  One by one, she examined every piece in the shop while Monty talked with a man behind the counter. Mr. Koch obviously had an eye for tooling leather, with many of his wares sporting decorative elements and designs.

  After a few moments, Monty stepped up behind her, his presence soaking warmth through her even as her heart picked up speed. She held up a knife sheath. “Look at this, Monty. I haven’t seen anything this elaborate since I left California. Some of our men from Mexico used to have ornate knife and gun holsters. Saddles, too. Sort of like that one.” She pointed across the room to a vaquero saddle, complete with angled stirrup covers and all the trimmings.

  He cleared his throat. “I have a saddle something like that. Haven’t used it in years, though.”

  She spun on him. “You do?”

  He looked a little sheepish. “Probably covered in dust and mold but…yeah.”

  After the saddlery, they walked over to Stewart’s Mercantile. What a surprise to meet Anna’s aunt and uncle there. She’d heard Anna had a small amount of family somewhere in the area, but hadn’t expected to be introduced today.

  When they stepped out of th
e shop, Grace touched her hat to make sure it was still in place and leaned close to Monty. “You didn’t tell me we’d see people you knew here. I hope I looked presentable.”

  He touched his hand to the small of her back and leaned down. “You look beautiful and they loved you.” The warmth of his breath touched her neck, sending gooseflesh across her shoulders.

  She hazarded a glance at him, but the intense heat in his eyes took her breath. He was so close, less than a foot away. She forced her gaze down. Dangerous. Being so close to this man was way too dangerous.

  “Are you hungry?” Monty’s hand still rested on her back. The lightest touch, yet it warmed through her dress and chemise, all the way to her core.

  She probably should have played the delicate female and said no, but after the long wagon ride to town, she was hungry. “A bit. Whenever you’re ready.”

  He paused and scanned the street. Grace stopped too, but the abruptness of his halt made his hand slip from her back. She immediately missed the touch, but tried not to let it show on her face.

  “We could eat at the Magnolia if you like. They have a nice dining room. Or…we could get a box lunch from the café and eat at the square. There’s a pretty pleasure ground there with benches and a little pond.”

  She spun to face him. “Let’s do, Monty. That sounds wonderful.”

  After purchasing sandwiches at the Bakery and Confectionary, they strolled toward the center of town. Several benches lined the expanse of grass around a small pool of water. Massive trees overhung several seats, pillars of wisdom that must have seen many decades of change in the town.

  Monty pointed to one of the benches. “Does this look all right?”

  Grace couldn’t help but eye the massive trunk beside it. “What do you think about sitting there?” She turned to look at him. “Would you mind?”

  One side of his mouth tipped up. “I’d prefer it.”

  It took real work to pull her gaze from that mouth. She could still feel the touch of his lips to hers. The nearness of him. Squaring her shoulders, she marched toward the base of the pecan tree.

  It would have been easier if she’d worn trousers and not this infernal dress and petticoats, but she finally had the skirts straightened and positioned so she didn’t show her boots. As if Monty hadn’t seen them before…but still.

  While they ate, Monty told her stories of when he and Jacob came to town as boys. She hadn’t realized they’d been so close. Monty didn’t come out and say it, but it sounded like he might have been the stabilizing force to Jacob’s daredevil ideas. She couldn’t help a grin at that. Everything about Monty was solid and reassuring. Like he could bear the weight of any challenge.

  If only she could share her own struggles with him. But that was out of the question.

  He asked about the area she’d grown up, and she did her best to describe the desert country, with its cactus and sagebrush and rocky bluffs. It took a lot more land to raise cattle there than it did in Texas.

  “How far from town were you?” He leaned forward, cross-legged, and fingered a piece of grass while he watched her.

  Grace rested against the tree trunk and sank into her memories. “It was a little over a half day’s ride to the village of Santa Ana. We didn’t go very often, maybe once or twice a year. Instead, Mama and Papa threw all kinds of rodeos and fiestas on the ranch for our men and the neighbors. We celebrated Carnaval, Día de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe, Las Posadas, and lots of other holidays. The men took any excuse they could to celebrate.” She allowed a soft chuckle. “I think they might have made up some of the festivals.”

  Monty’s husky laugh joined hers, a low rumble in his chest that made her stomach flip. “Sounds like your growing up years were more Mexican than mine.”

  She met his gaze, and couldn’t help sharing his smile. His eyes held such magnetism, especially when they sparkled like this. “Do you miss it?”

  He raised his brows. “My upbringing?”

  She wrinkled her nose. He was being obtuse on purpose. “Mexico.”

  Tilting his head, he studied her. “Can’t say that I do. I was only twelve when I left, and things were so hard there. After my parents died, I left Bo with our cousins. Tío had so many mouths to feed already, I couldn’t justify adding myself to the lot. Figured I was old enough to make my own way.

  “So, I wandered around for a while, picking up odd jobs. Stumbled across the border to Texas without even realizing it. Jacob’s pa found me in Seguin and offered me a job. I was pretty hungry by that point, and the Double Rocking B seemed a step better than heaven. I never once thought about leaving after that.”

  What a sad but incredibly touching story. “Have you thought about leaving now that you’re grown?”

  Monty met her gaze solidly. “No. I owe a lot to the O’Brien family. They’ll always have my loyalty.”

  The passion in his voice was unmistakable, and something tightened in her chest. That loyalty—it was in her blood, too. She didn’t want to be always on the run. Always looking over her shoulder. She wanted a permanent home, like the ranch where she’d grown up. A home with a man she loved, working by his side. A man like Monty. The yearning washed through her with such force it stung her eyes.

  She focused on Monty again and her breath caught at the expression in his gaze. Those windows to his soul were normally dark, but not this rich coal black, with heat that radiated through her. His focus wandered down to her mouth, springing up memories she couldn’t fight. Her skin remembered the feel of him, the taste of him—wanted another.

  He was closer now. Drawing even nearer. Her eyes drifted shut, more than ready for him.

  As his lips touched hers, a warmth flooded through her. She drank him in. Kissing him back, sliding her fingers behind his neck, into his hair.

  She’d been wrong. She didn’t want a permanent life with a man like Monty.

  She wanted him.

  ~ ~ ~

  MONTY BIT BACK a groan as he pulled Grace closer. Nothing was close enough, though. She tasted like apples and cinnamon from the tart she’d eaten at lunch. He wanted more. Craved more.

  Who needed this courting stuff anyway? Why couldn’t they just go straight to the preacher? He loved Grace. She was his soul, he could feel it in every part of his being.

  With the last ounce of strength left in him, he pulled away, resting his forehead on hers as their breaths mingled. “Grace.”

  She touched a finger to his lips, stilling his words. He nibbled the tip of it. There would be time enough for words. Time enough to make his intentions clear.

  For now, he pulled her close, tight against his chest. He could feel the beat of her heart, almost as strong as the pounding of his own. After several moments, she sank into him, as if finally melting away the last of her resistance. He tightened his grip, his thumb stroking circles on her back.

  Finally, at long last, he had the woman God intended for him. He could feel it in every fiber.

  Chapter Fourteen

  GRACE FOUND HERSELF once again admiring the tooled leather in Mr. Koch’s saddlery while Monty settled up with the man at the counter. Through the single shop window, the freshly hitched team stood with tails swishing against summer flies. Soon they’d be starting the long ride back to the ranch. Almost two hours Monty said the trip took, although it hadn’t seemed that long on the way in. Of course, the company had been pleasant.

  She fought the urge to touch a hand to her lips. Monty’s kiss had been…sweet molasses. The most perfect thing she’d ever experienced.

  Her eyes drifted toward the window again. Wagons and men on horseback passed in a steady stream. Most looked like area farmers and ranchers. Today being Saturday, it must be a popular day to come to town.

  In some of the wagons, women perched beside their menfolk, serviceable bonnets shading their faces so it was hard to gauge age or features. Other than Anna, it’d been so long since she’d known a woman’s friendship. What would it be like to meet these ladies? To ch
at at church or visit during sickness. She swallowed. Those kinds of thoughts would get her in trouble.

  She’d do much better to focus on the men passing by, always keeping a watch for anyone who bore resemblance to Leonard.

  Like that man riding astride the stocky bay. From a distance, he looked remarkably like her step-brother. Same slight hunch to his shoulders, just barely tilted right from an old arm injury. He claimed he’d taken the bullet in defense of a lady, but she’d always thought it more likely he’d been called out for cheating at cards. Or maybe it had been a gunfight over a lady of the night. He’d never been shy about his activities there. Except, of course, when Papa or his mother had been around. He was smooth as freshly-strained milk when he wanted to be.

  As the man rode closer, an eerie sense of familiarity crept over her. That hat. The way he held his reins in both hands, like he was afraid the horse would leap out from under him any minute. The brim of the brown bowler hat shaded his face so she couldn’t make out any features from this distance.

  She edged to the side of the window frame, yet didn’t dare take her eyes off him. He seemed to be scanning the passers-by on the street, but not looking into store windows. And then he shifted, so the light hit his face, and cold bumps broke out across Grace’s body.

  It was him.

  After five months and fourteen hundred miles, Leonard had found her.

  “Are you ready?”

  Grace jumped at least six inches at the words murmured close to her ear. She whirled, her hand reaching for the Colt at her hip, but finding only cotton fabric.

  Monty studied her, head tilted and brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

  At least the startle had forced her heart into beating again. Blood rushed through her with enough force to steal all her strength. She gripped Monty’s arm when her knees started to buckle.

 

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