As he bit into the apple, he wondered if Annora Bostwick could cook. At least, she was pretty, in a leather-tough, snooty sort of way. If he could loosen up that board she had stuck up her backside, she might not be too bad to wake up to for the rest of his life. She'd be easy to spot with that red hair. Beautiful hair, actually.
The problem would be finding her in bed. It would be like searching for an imp or a leprechaun, too small and tricky to grasp or keep hold of.
The front door opened and shut.
"Birch?" Chance's voice.
"In the study."
A moment later, Chance appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the jamb and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, how'd it go? Did you achieve your goal and send her packing?"
Birch took another bite of apple and stared at the empty grate in the fireplace. He wouldn't mind a fire today, even though it was plenty warm enough without one. He could think of few things more soothing than a flickering blaze on a hearth.
"Come on, Birch, give." Chance pushed away from the door frame and sat on the edge of a plush leather chair Shank had favored.
"I followed your advice, friend. I held my temper all the way home."
Chance flopped back in his seat. "And? You never said a word to her?"
"Not until we reached your place." He repeated what he'd said to Annora, then related her fiery comeback.
His foreman broke into laughter. "She's sharp, that one. Birch, old man, I think you may have met your match."
"Long as I don't have to marry her."
"The Ride for a Bride Race will determine your fate on that score."
Birch glowered at him. "Thanks to your wife. Did you paddle her behind like I told you to?"
"Hell, no. I encouraged her to find you a wife." Chance leaned forward, his forearms dangling over his thighs. "Besides, it wouldn't be right to spank a fragile lady in the family way."
The frown on Birch's forehead vanished. "She's expecting?"
"Yeah. Come next spring, we'll be neck deep in diapers and baby gear."
Birch grinned. "How is she feeling?"
"Fine, now. She had some morning sickness at first. Now, she's plain excited. Having her cousin here seems to add to the pleasure." He paused, staring at Birch. "Boss, are you listening?"
"Yes, I heard you." But his mind had wandered. What would happen if he did "touch" Annora Bostwick again? Better yet, what if he kissed her?
~~^~~
The following day had been set aside for the bronc riding competition, in which Birch planned to participate, even though it came a bit closer to bronc breaking than he liked. He considered riding a horse until it either threw its rider or gave in a kinder way to gentle it than the methods most ranchers practiced. More arguments had erupted between him and his father over breaking horses than anything else. Shank insisted on doing it the old-fashioned way, which Birch considered cruel, and potentially damaging. He preferred kinder, slower methods that didn't risk killing the animal's spirit.
His father and John-B Angstrom broke horses through fear and pain. Not Birch.
When he arrived at the competition grounds at mid-morning, he found a crowd already gathered. He and the boys had roped off the grounds to keep people back far enough from the action to avoid injuries. They'd also created a makeshift corral where those who came by horseback could leave their animals. After depositing his own with the others, Birch walked to where some competitors had gathered on the sidelines.
"Got troubles, Birch," Danny from the Double J announced.
"What now?"
"Females." Getting information out of Danny was like pulling teeth from a butterfly.
"What about them?"
A Bar L hand cut the interrogation short. "They're trying to shut down the competition."
"Yeah. You gonna allow this, Boss?" Shorty, one of Birch's own men asked.
"Confound it. I'll see what's happening for myself." He waded through the mob who grew restless and angry, finding Annora Bostwick and three other women parading back and forth in front of the roped-off arena. Each waved a hand-painted sign. "Cruelty to animals is against God's rules," "Put a saddle on your back, see if you like it," "Banish spurs forever;" and "Animals feel pain same as you."
"Why don't you women go home to your kitchens where you belong?" a man shouted.
Jenks Clondry tried to corner Annora. "If you expect to be my wife, you'll drop that sign and get home right now."
She put her delicate hand on his chest and shoved him away with surprising force. "I've no intention of becoming your wife or anyone else's. Now get away from me."
"What are you going to do, lady, hit him with your sign?" someone yelled.
Laughter and more taunts followed. Someone threw a rock that came close to striking one of the women.
"Hell, Birch." Chance appeared beside him. "You better do something fast."
"You think I don't know that?" Birch understood how the men felt. He'd like to haul the women to jail to be locked up. But, if he didn't want more trouble, he'd better handle it without aggravating matters. Pushing through the crowd, he planted himself in front of Annora. "Woman, these men are about two seconds away from turning ugly. If you don't want to see the ladies you dragged out here to help you get hurt, you'd best leave now."
"I will not be bullied, Birch Struthers." She glared up at him, her green eyes flashing, and that tiny hand now braced against his chest. "Not by you or anyone else."
Anger had turned her irises a gold-green hue he'd never seen in an eye before. With the sun shining on her red hair, she looked like a Greek goddess about to rain terror on her enemies.
Another rock landed at her feet.
"Would you rather be stoned?" he asked. "Or do you want to wait for them to fetch some tar and feathers?"
Her gaze darted to the riled-up crowd and back. Looking disgusted, she said, "They wouldn't dare."
"I wouldn't count on it. Listen, you're begging for trouble, and if I don't get you out of here now, you're going to get it. Now, do you want my protection or not?"
"I think we'd better go, Annora," one of the women said. They all looked scared.
"Very well, but I go in protest. I want you all to know that." She shoved her sign at Birch, hiked up her skirts to keep them out of the dirt about twenty restless pairs of boots had raked up, and stalked toward the men, head high, shoulders back and a double-dare-you expression on her pretty face.
The mob parted before her like the Red Sea, and the other ladies followed in her wake.
Damned if Birch didn't see something almost magnificent about Annora Bostwick at that moment. He felt a measure of pride, which he squelched. The woman was trouble, pure and simple. Nothing more. For him in particular.
He trailed after the ladies until they were safe in town. On Main Street, they parted, each going her own way. Birch stayed behind Annora until she vanished inside her office. Hopeful that she'd stay put and not cause any more problems, he returned to the competition.
"Everything all right?" Chance asked as they went to start the proceedings.
"I hope so. I've half a notion to wire that impudent little miss's father and suggest he give her a good paddling."
Chuckling, Chance said, "I'd like to see that."
"So would I."
CHAPTER FIVE
Birch Struthers won the bronc riding that day. At the end of the day, he returned home a contented man and fell asleep exhausted, yet looking forward to the calf-tying scheduled for the next day. But a pair of gold-green eyes and the hot feel of a tiny hand on his chest haunted his dreams.
He awoke to the drumming of rain on his window and thunder in the distance.
With the ranch competition canceled, work at the High Plains Ranch went on as usual. Birch had returned to the house to clean up and eat lunch when Chance showed up.
"You pull those calves out of the mud?" Birch asked.
"Yeah."
Mable brought Chance a plate of roast beef, cheese, a
nd bread. He didn't need an invitation. Joining Birch for the noon meal gave them time and opportunity to discuss ranch matters.
Birch passed him a pitcher of fresh milk. Chance filled his glass and selected a piece of beef to pop into his mouth. As he chewed, he said, "The south fence is down again. We got the strays rounded up, and the boys are fixing the fence now."
"Good. I'd like to know why that particular stretch of fence seems to fall so often. Any sign it was tampered with?"
"No." Chance took a drink of milk. "The ground there is kind of marshy, and the posts fall over. Might be a good idea to move the fence, even if that is the property line."
"All right. Have it done then." Birch wiped his mouth, paying particular attention to his mustache, and sat back, his stomach full. "But have someone keep an eye on that strip and a good count of the cattle. I want to be sure we aren't dealing with clever rustlers."
"Will do. Lissette wanted me to invite you over for supper tonight. She's making your favorites."
No one in the county made tastier fried chicken and potato salad than Lissette Brownell. Whenever that meal was slated to be on the table, Birch wanted to be there. This time, however, he hesitated. "I suppose your guest will be there too?"
"Annora?" Chance lowered his head to study his plate, a sign he'd as soon avoid the subject. "Yes, she'll be there. Don't let it fret you none, Birch. She's assured Lissette she has no intention of marrying up with anybody. Likes her freedom, that one does." His foreman's body language told Birch he wasn't as convinced of Annora's honesty as his wife was. Birch told himself it didn't matter. All that counted was what he intended to do, and wedding her wasn't on his agenda either. "I'll be there. You know I can't pass up Lissette's chicken. She knows it too. That's what worries me. I don't want those two females ganging up on me."
Chance laughed. "They're only women. I know you're not afraid of them."
"Hell, no."
Mable brought in chocolate cake and the men dove in. When half the cake was gone, they went back to work.
That evening, Birch took special care not to dress too nicely. He chose an old shirt with a collar that needed turning and denims with one patched knee. The type of clothes he always wore to the Brownell house for supper. Or close enough.
He sucked in a deep breath of chicken-scented air the moment he stepped into the house. Another habit the two men had; they never knocked at each other's doors. Lissette stood at the stove, turning fat pieces of crispy, browned chicken. Birch saw no sign of Annora, which suited him fine. More than fine. He wondered what color she'd be wearing tonight. He'd loved her in the blue she'd worn that first day. Why was she so against marrying him? Was it only him, or did she feel the same for all men? Didn't she find him attractive?
"Come sit down, Birch," Lissette said. "Chance is still washing up."
He made himself comfortable, sitting in his usual chair across from the master of the house, and made sure he didn't disturb the place settings already laid out. "Smells fantastic as usual, Lissette."
"Thank you." She went to the ice box and brought out a big bowl of potato salad to place on the table. "Do you think you'll be able to resume the competition tomorrow? Chance said the sky looked ready to clear up."
"It is. I think things will be fine for a good day of testing a man's strength."
Lissette laughed. "You men, testing each other to see who's best. You don't see women doing that."
"Oh, no? Haven't you noticed at church on Sunday all the women showing off their new dresses, hats, and whatever?"
"Okay, you have me there."
Annora chose that moment to enter the room. Habit brought Birch to his feet. She looked almost as tasty as the chicken in a simple lavender dress that complimented her hair. But, oh, what hair. Before, she had always worn it up, with select strands left to dangle seductively. Tonight, she had left it free to flow down her back to her waist in gleaming waves. The urge to grab up a chicken leg when he entered the house faded next to the yearning to run his fingers through those radiant tresses.
Ignoring his unwanted fancies, he pulled out a chair for her and reclaimed his own without saying more than, "Evening, Miss Bostwick."
Rather than sitting, she said, "Good evening. I have a confession, Mr. Struthers."
That made Birch fidget. "Oh?"
"I asked Lissette to invite you tonight in the hope that we could...well, start over, I suppose." She held out a hand. "Friends?"
He wasn't too sure about the term, friends, but he accepted. His hand swallowed hers like a marble in a baseball mitt. "Friends."
She took her seat, and Chance emerged from the back hall.
"Good, everyone's here," he said. "Honey, you need any help?"
Lissette gave him a special smile she reserved for her husband alone. "No, but thank you for the offer. Everything is ready. Sit down."
She set the platter of chicken in the middle of the table and took her own seat. "Annora, would you like to offer up a prayer?"
"Of course." She asked for the usual blessing on the food and the well-being of the household, her head bowed, hands folded at the edge of the table, reverent but without the fervor of a zealot, which gratified Birch. He attended church but hated being preached at.
From under his lashes, he watched her. A few minutes into the meal, he asked, "How do you like Sheridan by now, Miss Bostwick?"
She gave him a smile that almost had him choking on his potato salad—a big, genuine smile he thought he could almost fall into.
"I love it, Mr. Struthers. I'm still learning about ranching and the other interests of the local residents, but I love the beauty of the land and those mountains. Oh, I do adore those mountains. We have nothing like them in New York, you know."
He did know. He'd gotten his law degree in Boston. "I imagine Wyoming is quite a change for you."
"Yes." She took a sip of water and set down the glass. "The fresh air alone is worth the long trip here."
Birch glanced at Chance, wondering if this could be the same woman he'd met that first day when she kept little Jeremy from being trampled during the race. The difference, he realized, was her mood. She'd always been angry before. Tonight, she was relaxed and pleasant, a woman he might very well come to like.
No sooner had that notion passed through his head than he tossed it out. He and Annora Bostwick were no match and never would be. He might like her, even lust after her maybe a little, but that didn’t make the idea of marriage acceptable.
What about your desperate need to wed, Birch?
Okay, so marriage wasn't out of the question. She was the Ride for a Bride prize, after all, and everyone, including Birch, expected him to win that race.
That didn't mean he had to go through with a wedding. Being a lawyer; he could find a loophole in almost any agreement. Including this one.
~~^~~
The next day, Annora awoke to feel refreshed and eager for the day. Rising, she rushed to the window to look out. A blue sky shone down on the ranch. Lissette told her last night that she would be here. She’d be at the main house helping Mable prepare food to feed the hands at the competition. She told Annora to make herself at home.
After washing up, before dressing, she helped herself to a slice of bread, buttered it, added wild plum jelly, and nibbled on it while she waited for the leftover morning coffee to warm up on the stove. Chance, she knew, would have already left for the ranch games with Birch.
She smiled, remembering how he'd scolded her for referring to them as games.
"It's a matter of ranch hands testing themselves to see who are the better bull riders, bronc busters, and so forth," he'd said. "We work hard all year. This is our chance to let off steam and do what we love with no boss or anybody depending on the results. That makes it fun instead of work."
"You keep telling yourself that, Chance," she'd teased.
To have the house all to herself gave Annora an opportunity to pretend she had a home of her own and a man who would be coming
home at the end of the day. Not that she did want a man, she reminded herself. She might if she could find one who was honest and could be trusted. But so far, one like that didn't seem to exist.
Outside the front windows, green grass spread out for what seemed forever. In the distance, horses grazed and frolicked. No fences to pen them in. This was open-range, Chance had said, which meant livestock from the different ranches were allowed to mingle. Come August, they would be rounded up and separated by brand. Calves born during the summer would be branded, the young bulls neutered. Another important time in a rancher's life.
But, for now, the animals were free. Annora liked that idea. Feeling her own need for freedom, she decided to go out and explore. She went to her room to grab her shawl. In a while, she would go to the big house to help with the noon meal.
As she waded through the tall, thick grass, she marveled at the idea of owning so much land. Birch's father must have been a wealthy man. It followed that Birch would be too, now. Lissette had told her he'd inherited the ranch when his father died last year.
Wildflowers blossomed in the grass. In no time, she had an armful to grace the Brownell dining table. When she turned to head back, there was no ranch in sight. No buildings whatsoever, only grass, grass and more grass. She saw horses and cattle scattered in the distance, but no ranch. Feeling uneasy, she hurried her steps.
The land wasn't as flat as it had looked from Lissette's window. She had passed through hollows and gullies. As she climbed out of a dip deeper than most, she found herself face to face with an enormous bull with horns that stood out from his head for what she guessed to be thirty inches on either side.
He started toward her, snorting and bellowing. Screaming, Annora dropped the flowers, grabbed up her skirts and ran. Hoofbeats behind her told her the bull was after her. All she could think of was those horns spearing her and tossing her lifeless body into the air.
Panting, she tripped, screaming, on a badger hole and fell. Risking a glance behind her, she saw the bull charging toward her, head lowered, ready to skewer her with his horns. Picking herself up, she ran on. Please, please, someone, help me.
Ride for a Bride in Wyoming (Rocky Mountain Romances Book 4) Page 5