by Stacey Kayne
“More trouble?” asked Cora Mae, her neck craned to see what had captured their attention.
Chance smiled at the pretty patch of trouble he was about to take home. “I seem to be blessed that way.” He checked to make sure her trunk had been roped down, then held a hand out to help her up onto the seat. “After you, Cora Mae.”
She shrugged off his touch and stepped onto the cart without his assistance. “It’s just Cora.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My name,” she said, smoothing down the full yellow skirt that had swallowed the entire seat. “I shortened it when I began working at the mill. I prefer to be called Cora.”
“That sure is a pretty name,” said Garret, already mounted on his pinto with Chance’s horse and the pack horse lined up behind.
The kid had a lot to learn about women. Pretty didn’t mean trustworthy. There was no denying the truth he’d seen in her eyes. Cora Mae was hiding something. He was in no mood to play a charlatan’s game.
“Better secure your hatpin, Cora Mae. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
Chapter Two
C ora clutched the seat, her feet braced wide on the buckboard as Chance drove her cart across another green valley as though he were leading the last wagon train out of hell. A biting wind flattened the tall grass before them.
Chance’s strong frame seemed to follow every shift of the seat while she shook until her teeth rattled. So focused was he on the uneven terrain, he’d likely not notice if she toppled out. Perhaps he intended to send her careening to the ground. What on earth had she been thinking, traveling into the middle of the Wyoming wilderness to find two boys from her childhood?
The wagon slowed as they reached the crest of another rise. Chance reined the horse to a halt. A valley stretched out before her, covered by swaying grasses bursting with wildflowers and spotted with boulders and trees.
She uncurled her fingers from the seat and ran them briskly over her arms, trying to rub some of the chill from her skin. She glanced beside her and found Chance’s gaze intent on hers. His striking features could have been carved in granite, the sparkling green of his eyes cold and clear as a gemstone.
“Sorry about your dress.”
She glanced down at the dark smudges on her yellow skirt. Knowing more were on the dress front hidden beneath her crossed arms, an instant heat flared in her cheeks.
“It’s nothing,” she said, certain the dress had fared far better than her pride. Had she actually hugged him? She must have been blinded by images of the boy who’d long since outgrown her memory of him. What a spectacle she must have made.
How could she not have expected the full-grown man beside her to be a stranger? A frightening one at that. Chance’s reception had fallen drastically short of her expectations.
Seemingly out of things to say, he gazed across the windswept grasses. She took the opportunity to secure her hat before the wind snatched it away completely. After a few minutes of listening to the jingle of horse harnesses and watching the wind chase leaves and grass, she couldn’t stand it. Unfriendly as he may be, it was still Chance Morgan who sat beside her. The closest friend she’d ever had.
“Did you never wonder about me?”
His jaw flexed as though the question annoyed him. “Sure we did.”
“Are your memories of me so terrible?”
He eased back against the seat and released a long sigh before he finally met her gaze. His expression softened, revealing a sadness Cora felt to the bottom of her soul.
“You know I didn’t want to leave you behind.”
She’d clung to that hope for two decades.
“Tuck and I, we spent countless nights plotting all kinds of scenarios for going back for you.”
“You did?” Warmth blossomed inside her.
“But we were kids, Cora Mae. And you were Winifred’s daughter.”
And just that quickly the spark died, stamped out by the hatred buried in those last two words. Winifred’s daughter. “Has it been so long that you’ve confused me with my mother?”
“No. But apparently you believe enough time has passed between us that you can lie to me and get away with it.”
Cora froze, stunned by his candid accusation.
Her mother’s manipulation may have driven her here, but Cora wouldn’t allow Winifred’s influence to ruin her chance to know her stepbrothers again.
“I’ve not lied,” she insisted.
“Cora Mae.” His voice was barely a rumble above the wind.
The sudden warmth in his green eyes stole her breath. His lips tipped into a slight smile, and Cora was struck by the urge to…certainly not hug him.
“I think you forget how well I know you,” he said.
She hadn’t forgotten. She’d never stopped praying for the day he would come back into her life. Winifred wouldn’t steal this from her. She wouldn’t allow it.
“You knew a child. The man sitting before me is proof that people change over time. You’re hardly the sweet boy I once knew.”
“Sweet boy? I recall doing my best to set off a certain prissy tomboy’s spitfire temper and landing her in a mess of trouble on several occasions.”
He’d been the best adventure of her life. “You were worth the trouble.”
He arched a golden eyebrow and Cora averted her gaze, suddenly uncomfortable with the intimacy of sitting so close to him and speaking of such personal matters. “You were my very best friend,” she clarified. “It’s one of the few childhood memories I hold dear.”
“All clear!”
Cora jumped at the sound of Garret’s voice. She glanced back to see him approaching on his horse with Chance’s horse and a packhorse trailing behind him, realizing only then that she hadn’t seen him since they’d left Slippery Gulch some time ago.
“Have you been right behind us all along?” she asked as he reined in beside them.
“No, ma’am.” He dismounted and began changing the lineup of the three horses. “I stayed a short ways back, making sure Wyatt didn’t send any of his men after us.”
“After us?”
“You don’t need to fret none.” Garret met her gaze with a grin. “I didn’t spot any riders.” He mounted the other saddled horse now standing at the front of the line. “Which pass are we taking?” he said to Chance.
“Northeast is the shortest.”
Garret gave a sharp nod.
“Mr. Spud mentioned a distinct trail to your ranch,” she said, certain this was not the direction he’d described. “I haven’t noted one.”
“We’re using a stock trail,” said Chance. “Not the smoothest ride, but it shaves nearly an hour off travel. We’ll make it home in time for Skylar’s supper.”
“Tucker’s wife?”
“Yeah.”
At thirty-three, she had truly expected them both to be wed by now. “You’ve not married?”
Chance gave a short, humorless laugh. “Marriage is not for me. Not in this lifetime.”
She found an odd sense of comfort in that response and rather agreed with his outlook.
“Miss Cora,” Garret said, reining in beside her. He leaned over and dropped a large coat over her shoulders, enveloping her in a warm lamb’s wool lining. “No sense in you shivering all the way to the ranch.”
“Thank you.” She pulled the thick coat tight and breathed in a musky, masculine scent.
“Chance can’t use it. You might as well stay warm.”
Chance noticed the sudden stiffness of her spine. She paused in the midst of securing the top button at her throat. After blindsiding him with all that sentimental talk about being her best friend, he didn’t see why she should be repulsed by wearing his coat.
“Do you mind?” she asked, meeting his gaze with clear reluctance.
“Why should I?” he said, unsure of how he felt about anything at the moment. He only wished he’d thought of it sooner. The heavy brown leather enveloped her from her chin to her knees. Keeping her cove
red up was a definite improvement.
“I have a layer of mud to keep me warm. Your lips are practically blue.”
“See you at the ranch,” Garret said as he set off ahead of them.
The wagon lurched forward. Cora resumed her hold on the seat as her exhausted muscles prepared for another jarring ride.
“Sure hope you got more sensible clothing in that trunk.”
“I have.” Indeed, there was nothing but sensible clothing in her trunk. Not that it mattered. Chance’s reception had made it painfully obviously she would not have been well received, no matter what she’d worn. Thankfully she’d ignored her mother’s order to throw out her maid attire.
She owed her mother nothing. Her life was her own.
Descending the hillside at hair-raising speed, she sucked in a deep breath of crisp Wyoming air, and tasted freedom.
Hours later the warm hues of sunset streaked the sky as they rode into a green valley with a horse ranch at its center. Snow-capped mountains rose up on either side. Cora gazed out in amazement at all Chance and Tucker had accomplished. A maze of fencing and outbuildings surrounded a massive two-story house. Horses milled about in the various pens and dotted the distant pastures.
As they neared the house, they captured the attention of men on horseback and others inside fences. Garret stood in the yard near a large barn. He held a little boy with the same pale shade of white-blond hair.
The moment they stopped, Cora shrugged Chance’s coat from her shoulders and jumped from the cart, ready to have her feet on the blessed unmoving ground.
“Unco ’ance!” The little boy, no older than two, ran toward them.
“Hey, Joshua.” Chance stepped beside Cora and crouched down to catch the child at midleap into his arms. He lifted him high, initiating wild giggles before he set him down on his little booted feet. It was the wide smile on Chance’s face that stole Cora’s attention, the pure joy that lit his eyes as he looked at Joshua. “You been good for your mama?”
Cotton-white curls flipped in the wind as he bobbled his head enthusiastically.
“Go tell Uncle Garret to give you your treat.”
Joshua glanced past his uncle, his big blue eyes taking Cora in before he turned and ran back to Garret.
Chance stepped around her, not bothering to introduce her to his nephew.
“Chance Morgan!” shouted a woman’s hostile voice.
He looked toward the house, his broad shoulders blocking Cora’s view. “Don’t worry. I plan to go around back and clean up before stepping foot in the house.”
“I should hope so!”
Cora eased around her rude host to see the tall woman standing on the porch. Her loose blond hair and blue dress whipped in the wind, the midsection of her dress strapped tight over her protruding belly. She appeared dreadfully overdue for giving birth. Her brilliant blue eyes surged wide as she spotted Cora.
“Oh! I didn’t realize we had company.”
Chance put his hand on Cora’s lower back and ushered her forward. “Skylar, this is Miss Cora Mae Tindale, my, uh…stepsister.”
Skylar gaped at her from the top of the stairs. “Truly?”
Cora struggled to smile as she shuffled up the steps. “I am sorry to arrive unannounced.”
“Nonsense. Tucker will be so excited. He’s mentioned you on several occasions. Isn’t this wonderful, Chance?”
He stood at the base of the steps, stiff as a stone statue, her carpetbag in one hand. “It is.”
“Where have you traveled from?” asked Skylar.
“Del-uhum, Massachusetts,” she corrected, catching her slip and the sudden scrutiny in Chance’s gaze. He knew full well her mother’s family resided in Delaware.
“Del—um, Massachusetts.” He held up her valise. “Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”
She snatched her luggage. “Yes, well, it’s…small.” Goodness gracious. This was going to be a very short visit.
“You came all that way alone?”
Cora turned to Skylar, anxious to escape the intensity of Chance’s green eyes, unnerved by the flutters in her belly. “I was able to travel by rail for much of the journey. The past week on the stage was a bit unsettling at times.”
“I can imagine. The stage line—” Skylar’s words broke off, her startled gaze looking past Cora. “Joshua, what’s in your mouth?”
Clutching his uncle’s big hand, he smiled a red toothy grin. “Canny.”
Skylar sighed before casting a disapproving glance at Chance. “You’re going to rot his teeth.”
Chance grinned as he ruffled the child’s white hair. “Baby teeth fall out anyhow, don’t they, cowboy?” He turned away, his nephew in tow. “I’ll bring the trunk in after I finish with the horses and wash up.”
“No more candy,” Skylar called after them.
“Fine.”
Skylar took Cora by the arm. “Let’s get out of this wind. You must be chilled to the bone.”
Cora stepped into a great room lined with honey-colored polished pine from the floor to the high ceiling. Instantly enveloped by heat, it felt like walking into pure sunshine. A fire crackled in the massive stone fireplace to her left. Across the room, a banister staircase led to an open second story. She was quite taken aback by the grandeur of it all, yet everything in the room spoke of simplicity.
Four oversize chairs covered in cowhide, a single rocking chair and a few wooden footstools were spaced around the fireplace and what appeared to be a sheepskin rug. To her left, in the immediate parlor area, a tapestry sofa and wing back chair complemented a bare coffee table.
“What a beautiful home.”
Skylar beamed. “Thank you. The kitchen is straight back.” She led her through the formal dining room. Oil lamps glowed from a circular chandelier above a long table already set with at least a dozen place settings. “I’m just finishing up with supper preparations.”
The scent of fresh bread wafted from the kitchen—another tidy room polished to a shine from floor to ceiling.
“Please, sit.” Skylar motioned to one of the six chairs.
“Thank you.” Cora set her bag beside the table and removed her pin and hat. Skylar eased onto a chair, folding her hands over her round stomach. Despite her smile, the woman appeared thoroughly exhausted.
“I hope you don’t think me too rude for asking but are you carrying twins?” Cora was fearful she already knew the answer.
“There’d better be two in there,” Skylar said, patting the rounded rise. “I wasn’t half this big at the end with Joshua.”
Cora forced a smile, knowing Chance and Tucker’s mother had died shortly after their birth.
“There’s coffee on the stove, and hot water if you’d prefer tea.”
“Tea sounds wonderful. Please, allow me to get it,” Cora said as Skylar began to rise. “I’ve been sitting for days on end and find I’m quite restless.”
The hiss of a pot boiling over drew their attention to the stove before she could retrieve a cup from the open cupboard. “I’ve got it,” she said, quickly grabbing a dishtowel and lifting the lid from the sputtering pot.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I ran a boardinghouse for four years in Massachusetts. You can’t imagine how I’ve missed my kitchen.” She missed it all, being in charge of her house, her girls, her life.
The back door opened, letting in a gust of wind and a clean version of Chance, yet there was something distinctly different about his presence, the ease in his expression, the smooth slide of his smile as he looked at Skylar.
Tucker.
He slammed the door and dropped to his knees in front of his wife. “How are my little kickers?” he asked, pressing his cheek to Skylar’s protruding belly. It was one of the sweetest displays of affection Cora had ever seen.
“Um, Tuck.” A pink hue rose into Skylar’s cheeks. “You have company.”
Tucker glanced over his shoulder. “Oh,” he said, and quickly stood. “I beg your pardon.”
>
Cora could only grin.
“This is Miss Tindale,” said Skylar. “Your stepsister.”
Tucker’s green eyes surged wide. “Cora Mae?”
“Hello, Tucker.”
He gave a shout. In an instant she was wrenched off her feet in a tight hug before he set her back down. “Look at you!” He took a step back, a grin pushing high into his cheeks as he shook his head. “My God. All grown up.”
“Twenty years away will do that to a person.”
His laughter initiated her own. What a switch. Tears burned in her eyes as joy swept through her. This was the reception she’d hoped for.
“Well, let’s have it,” he said. “What are you doing here? How did you get out here?”
“By rail and stage,” she said, batting away her tears. “I’d heard about some fine horses coming from the Morgan Ranch in Wyoming Territory, and I had to see for myself.”
His grin widened. “I’ll be damned. Who brought you out?”
“Chance. I ran into him while leaving the Slippery Gulch depot.”
Tucker’s smile fell. His gaze paused on her dirty dress as his brow knitted in a look of concern. “How’d that go?”
“He didn’t throw me in the dirt, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She smiled at the blatant relief on Tucker’s face. “But he didn’t seem pleased to see me, either.”
“Thoughts of your mama can sure put ice up the spine.”
“Yes, I know. And I’m sorry. You may recall she was no fonder of me, her own flesh and blood.”
“I do recall.”
“She’s passed on, and I’ve been on my own for quite some time now. I wanted to see the brothers I’d missed so dearly. I promise not to wear out my welcome.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, Cora Mae. With the babies due any day, some extra help around here would be really appreciated. Right, honey?”
“I won’t complain,” Skylar said, her hands folded over her belly as she watched them with a wide smile. “I usually have help from our foreman’s wife, Margarete, but since Zeke’s been hurt she’s had her hands full. Tucker, why don’t you help Cora get settled in a room upstairs so she can freshen up before supper?”