She deflated a little and he wished he had said something more encouraging.
“When we get outside, I think you should tell Bobby and Dale to get started on the barn. Then I’ll show you the ranch.”
Two cowboys waited at the corral. One lanky fella draped himself over the fence; the other, shorter and pudgier, sat on a bale of hay, chewing on a piece of straw. Behind them, the blackened skeleton of the barn lay in a heap. Dillon spotted a flatbed wagon off to the side loaded with a pile of fresh lumber.
“Bobby, Dale, I’d like you to meet my husband, Dillon Pine.”
Husband? Dillon nearly gaped but caught himself. He wasn’t used to the word, or the role. To their credit, the two men recovered from their own shock quickly and extended their hands.
“Howdy,” Bobby said.
The straw had fallen out of Dale’s mouth, but clung to his chin. “Good to know you,” he said, reinserting it.
They shook hands and Dillon smiled, trying to make the expression real. “Hello. Nice to meet you both. Miss Audra speaks very highly of you.” The ranch hands puffed up like roosters. Noting the response, Dillon poured on a little more honey. “You’ve stood by her. I appreciate that.”
“Yes, sir,” Bobby pushed his hat back. “Miss Audra is a fine lady, but she knows we’re glad to have a man around again.”
“For a couple of reasons,” Dale muttered.
“Mr. Pine has a lot to learn about ranching, boys,” Audra interjected, “but we’ll teach him. Right now, I—we—” She motioned to Dillon. “That is, after discussing the plans for today . . .” She twirled her hand.
He got the cue. “You two get started on the barn. My wife is going to give me the penny tour.”
“Yes, sir,” the two echoed and jerked on their work gloves double time. Dillon didn’t miss the indignant look Audra gave the men, as if they never moved that fast for her.
“Dale, why don’t you saddle up Daisy for Mr. Pine here? Until we know how well he rides, she’s the best choice.”
Daisy? All three of the men exchanged puzzled glances, but Dillon got the point. Audra had something to prove and it would have to be at his expense. He didn’t have to go along easily, though. “I appreciate your concern, dear. Daisy will be fine for the time being. I can, however, saddle my own horse, Dale. You two go on and tackle the barn.”
The men nodded and left.
Dillon folded his arms over his chest and gave Audra a hard look. “This how it’s gonna be? Beat me down to lift yourself up.”
She shifted on her feet, looking away. “I figure it has to be this way. You saw. I’m walking a fine line between respect and failure here.”
“You’re not the only one.”
“But it doesn’t matter if they see you as weak or incompetent. Just by virtue of your gender, you’re instantly seen as more competent than I am.” She glared at the men lifting wood from the wagon. “I have to make a dent in that idea.”
And Dillon was just supposed to put up with the dented pride? Fine. He could do it. For a year. The time would fly by . . .
“Fortunately, we keep all the feed and the tack here instead of the barn.” Audra plucked reins, bridles, and bits from the storage shed’s wall.
Dillon ran his hand over a fine Fred Mueller saddle hanging from a rack, a beautiful thing of rich black and red leather with a padded suede seat and intricate tool work.
Audra came to stand beside him and gently caressed the pommel. “That was my pa’s.” She tugged on the stirrup of the one hanging above it, a worn, simple, no-frills saddle. “Use this one.”
Dillon lamented not getting to use that high-end saddle and the Navajo blanket it sat on, but he understood and would go along.
It wasn’t like he had much of a choice.
6
Dillon lowered himself into the tub of hot water and sighed with sublime contentment. Not a bone in his body didn’t ache. He’d never spent so many hours in the saddle, not even back at school practicing with the polo team.
Audra, on the other hand, belonged on a horse. Flowing and natural, she rode like the animal was an extension of her body. At one point her braid had come loose during a canter over a ridge, and her blonde hair had poured out behind her like a golden waterfall. Truly, there had been moments when he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She was a masterpiece, as gorgeous as any work of art in a museum.
Only she was a real, living, breathing woman.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he chastised himself aloud. “Uh-uh. No getting caught in that.” He grabbed the soap and lathered up. “A year. You get to play cowboy and then you’re done. Remember, it’s house arrest. No touching the jailer.”
“Dillon?” Audra knocked on his door. “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. Hope you’re hungry.”
Food. Yes, food. He would focus on that hunger and . . . not the other.
Since Dillon had to admit Audra was beautiful enough to shame Venus di Milo, and could ride, rope, and herd cattle like a man, he halfway suspected she could cook like a chef. He took a bite of her Beef Wellington and almost groaned with pleasure. Suspicion confirmed. He hadn’t exactly been eating in the finest establishments in Cheyenne, as he’d been busy chasing down some wholesale products. Not to mention two days in jail had certainly whet his appetite for good food, but the Wellington was a sensual explosion of flavor in his mouth.
Audra sat down opposite him, her face angelic, her expression hopeful in the lantern’s amber light.
He swallowed and tried not to think about appetites of any kind. “It’s very good. You’re a fine cook.”
“Thank you, but I thought you might say grace.”
“Oh, I don’t—”
“That’s fine.” She smiled, a little sadly, he thought. “I’ll say it.”
She blessed the meal then scooped her own serving. She poked at it for a moment, instead of tasting it. “I know this is just a business arrangement—us, I mean—but I thought a special meal was in order.”
“I’m glad you thought so.” He closed his eyes and savored another bite. “Truly glad.”
“Good.” They ate quietly for a few minutes, but he could tell by her tapping fingers on the water glass she was searching for a way to start conversation. “So, Uncle Winston told me a little about you, but I was wondering, why did you go back East?”
The Wellington lost a little of its flavor and he washed it down with a splash of coffee. “Did he tell you who my father is?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Another lawyer down in Denver is all he said. And that they’ve been friends a long time.”
Now Dillon poked at his food. “I can be a little headstrong, I suppose. My father and I had a falling-out. He wanted me to be an attorney, too. I want to be a businessman. Our last discussion ended badly. I left for Yale and didn’t come back until three months ago.”
“So you never visited your parents the whole time you were in school?”
“My mother came twice. She was unhappy with how I was conducting myself. But she wrote me, regardless.” He could tell Audra wanted to ask more questions and, in fairness, his vague language did leave the door open for them. “I suppose since we’re married, you should know a thing or two about me. I put myself through school by gambling, doing a little boxing. Mother was disappointed. I didn’t tell her Father had opted not to pay for my education, and I had no desire to return to Colorado without one.”
He took a bite of the beef, chuckling at how angry and determined he’d been those first few years of school. “I had no intention of ever returning at all.”
“What changed?”
“The O’Herlihy Brothers knew people in Cheyenne who wanted items stored and shipped. I wanted to start my own freight business. They agreed to send me some customers. I agreed to cut rates if they paid in whiskey.” He stared through his plate. “Not the best idea I’ve ever had.”
“Pa told me once you can tell a lot about a man by who he’s willing to do busin
ess with.”
Dillon thought the observation was harsh, but mostly true. He hoped in his case it was wrong. “I’d like to think that one bad choice is not a reflection of how smart I really am. I suppose I could be wrong, though.” An awkward silence fell and Dillon went back to his meal.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean for that to be a cut.”
“No, it’s fine. Who knows. Maybe I would have kept going down a road filled with bad choices if I hadn’t been caught up in the gang’s mess.”
“Yes, I suppose marrying a strange woman doesn’t qualify as a bad decision.” She laughed and he echoed it, this time with real humor.
“It does sound bad when you say it out right.”
Their laughter died and they looked at one another. What kind of decision would this turn out to be? He suspected they were both pondering that very question.
“I play poker,” she said unexpectedly.
His eyes bugged. “Do you?”
“Rancher’s daughter. Not a lot to do on long, cold winter nights. Pa was good, but I was better.”
“How do you know he didn’t let you win?”
Grinning, she rose and sauntered over to the fireplace. She pulled down a deck of cards and a box and set them on the table. The box was full of poker chips. “Let’s find out.”
The game lasted for a while. Dillon noticed that Audra was not eager to talk about herself, but she talked about the ranch with great enthusiasm. And she was impressively well-versed in the running of it. She rattled off numbers, historical figures, and projections like a Wall Street businessman. She talked at length about the plans for the Diamond D, her goals for building a larger herd, and her dream of running a fine horse ranch here as well.
All while cleaning Dillon out of a hundred dollars. He’d never enjoyed losing money more. What a conundrum she was. A girl who could play poker with the best of them, yet said grace at dinner. He could make a pastime out of trying to figure her out. He doubted, however, a year would be long enough.
7
Audra supposed it might take several nights to get used to having Dillon in the house. Or at least that was her rationalization for why she couldn’t sleep. She had enjoyed playing poker with him, the game a temporary reprieve from her grief. This was the first time she’d had company since her father passed. She longed to hear his gruff voice just once more, telling her to saddle up and get a move on.
But Dillon, he seemed to feed a different kind of longing, one that puzzled her. How many times during the game had her gaze wandered to his lips, his freshly shaved jaw? She’d noticed he ran his hand through his dark, wavy hair every time he debated a bluff. He caressed a card gently when he had a terrible hand. She was fascinated with his hands . . . clean, lean, strong . . .
Huffing a frustrated sigh, she threw the covers back and quietly wandered out to the front porch in her nightgown. The inky black sky covered in glittering diamonds, the mysterious Milky Way, and shooting stars disappearing behind the mountains always filled her with such a sense of wonder. Yes, she felt small and insignificant, yet loved by a God Who had created an amazing vista. If she had her ranch and these stars, she’d always count herself blessed.
“It is a sight.”
She squeaked like a terrified mouse when Dillon moved in the rocking chair to her right. She folded her arms, even though the gown was quite modest.
“Sorry.” He rose and walked over to her, carrying a lit cigar. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m not used to having anyone here, is all. I hope my cooking or the bed isn’t the problem.”
“Nope. It’s all very,” he took a puff, exhaled it slowly, “comfortable.” He didn’t necessarily sound pleased.
“Should I say I’m sorry?”
He waved the glowing cigar. “I just meant, I’m . . .” he grunted. “Never mind. It’ll take a little getting used to, but it’s just—”
“Just for a year?”
Whereas the length of time had seemed so insignificant before, now Audra glimpsed the dangers ahead.
“Tell me how you see this playing out,” he said, hooking his thumb in his belt loop, the cigar glowing orange. “How do I run this ranch?”
She rubbed her arms, the cool summer night raising gooseflesh. “I guess I imagined I would ride everywhere with you but quietly make the decisions. You deliver them.”
“You’re the ventriloquist and I’m the dummy?”
“I—I . . .” That sounded horrible. “No, that’s not right.”
“Maybe it is a fair trade for prison. Small price to pay, my pride, I mean.”
Audra had no idea what to say to that. It did seem like a small price to her. After all, this really wasn’t going to be that painful, not compared to actual prison. She had half-a-mind to be annoyed with him going on about his pride.
Men. “I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”
He mumbled goodnight around the cigar in his mouth.
A week later, Dillon could argue he and Audra had started settling into a routine of sorts. At least their time together went a bit more smoothly. At breakfast they discussed basic ranch management, stock yields, expenses, and so on. They touched on the daily chores required on a ranch, which included finishing the barn and riding sections of fence. They fed stock together so he could get a feel for feed requirements, and she’d given him a tour of the land near the ranch house.
The more he learned, the more Dillon caught himself thinking that ranching was more a business and less a seat-of-your-pants venture. A quick glance at Audra’s books spoke volumes about ways to improve stock yields and cut expenses. Ideas thundered through his head like a herd of stampeding cattle. But he couldn’t take anything away from her. Audra knew how to run a ranch. Her business sense was impressive, especially considering she’d never attended college.
Today, the happy couple saddled up and headed off for a special ride, or so the little missus had called it.
“We’re going to ride a section it’s important you see.” Audra kicked Cookie into a canter, and Dillon did an admirable job keeping up with her without being showy. While he resented being relegated to second fiddle, he despised the constant urge to prove his manliness and decided to keep his ego—and his own equestrian skills—in check. Even if it was like chewing on nails.
They’d ridden for half an hour or so when she finally said, “It’s important a rancher knows where his boundaries are.”
“How much land do you have exactly?”
“Right now, I’m holding on to twelve hundred acres.”
Dillon whistled. “That’s a nice size plot.”
“I wish it were bigger. To put it in perspective, Jess Fairbanks owns three times that. And that’s one of the things I wanted to show you.”
Another hour of riding passed and Audra showed no signs of slowing. The land around them was wide open, hilly, and dotted with dense, deep-green pine forests. Towering mountains, hazy and blue, surrounded the valley. The clean cedar-scented air struck a homey chord in Dillon. Maybe he would go visit Denver sooner rather than later.
His gaze crept over to Audra, her hips rocking fluidly in the saddle, her ornery jaw softened by a smile. He smiled, too, knowing he was enjoying this almost as much as she seemed to be.
“This makes our arrangement a little easier to swallow.”
“You like riding?” She sounded surprised.
He looked around. “I like riding out here. I feel like I could keep going till I hit the Yellowstone.”
“There’s only one problem with that. Follow me.” She turned her horse due west.
After several minutes of watching her and wondering about his bride, Dillon risked learning a little about her. He considered it a risk because he wasn’t sure if he should venture too near the fire. “Have you ever been outside of Wyoming?”
“Sure. I’ve been to Colorado and Utah.”
“You ever been to any big cities, like New York or San Francisco?”
/> “Nope.”
“And you don’t think you’re missing anything, either, do you.” It wasn’t a question. He’d never seen a person, male or female, more born to ranch, to ride the high country and the plains. Audra had found her destiny and he envied her. “You don’t think one day you’ll feel like you should have done more with your life?”
She cut him a sideways glance and smirked. “Wait till you see this and you’ll know the answer.”
She led him up a steep hill. Navigating around massive boulders, cedars, and pines, they emerged on top of a high and long butte. The view took his breath away. In the far distance, snow-tipped mountains reached unchallenged for the sky. Much closer, rolling green hills and valleys spread from horizon to horizon. A ribbon of aquamarine snaked its way through the center of the landscape.
Home. The space. The big sky. How he had missed the mountains and the plains. He could live if he never saw the East again. It made him wonder why he’d ever left in the first place.
“That river down there is the border between my ranch and Fairbanks’s. Neither of us controls it; we share the water. The grass, though, is better on my side because of the runoff.”
“And he’s crossed over, has he?”
“Repeatedly. But now that you’re here . . .”
“Now that I’m here, he’ll back off?”
“That was my plan.”
Dillon heard the uncertainty, and thought immediately of the veiled warning Fairbanks had issued in town. “You could be right.”
But he suspected the opposite. Jess Fairbanks struck him as a man who didn’t stand down till the fight was finished. Near as Dillon could tell, it hadn’t gotten started good . . . not yet.
8
For all his faults, Dillon did not shirk work, a source of pride to him. A competent carpenter, he jumped in and helped Bobby and Dale on the barn, listening carefully to their conversations. He learned a fair amount about cattle as they assessed the condition of the herd and expressed their longing to get back into the saddle.
The Brides of Evergreen Box Set Page 19