Charming Jo

by Laura Drewry

  “Okay.” She sipped her coffee, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t. “What’s in San Francisco?”

  Travers tipped back in his chair, his fingers laced behind his head. “The ocean.”

  “The ocean? That’s it?”

  His chair fell forward with a thunk; the dreamy look that held him a moment ago vanished, replaced with disbelief and a little shock.

  “Have you ever seen the ocean, Miss Joanna?”

  “Jo. And no. But it’s just water, Travers. We’ve got a great big pond out back of the spread that I’m sure you’ll like just fine.”

  A soft rumbling chuckle slipped through his lips. “Believe me, Miss Joanna, your pond – no matter how big – is nothing compared to the Pacific.”

  She shrugged. Water was water – and salt water wouldn’t do her cattle much good.

  “Does your uncle know you’re hiring me?” Travers’s smile faded, but a small twitch lingered at the corner of his mouth. Was he mocking her?

  “It’s my ranch, not Mac’s.” Took more than a little willpower to keep from looking away.

  “That’s a no.” Travers returned her pointed look.

  “Listen.” She rested her elbows on the table and folded her arms in front. “Mac’s a big boy – if he has a problem with you being out there, he can take it up with me. Besides, you two’ll hardly cross paths.” She cleared her throat against the lie. “He’ll be out with the cattle and you’ll be working with me getting the fence up and tending to the yards.”

  “Believe me,” he nodded, all traces of humor gone. “We’ll cross paths.”

  “So you’ll do it?”

  He took a long sip of his coffee. “Not for sixty dollars a month.”

  “Sixty-five.” She couldn’t let him get away. It suddenly didn’t matter that this was Levi Travers, the lowest of low, the subject of more scandalous stories than Jo had fingers and toes. He was a live body capable of work.

  “Miss McCaine. . .”

  “I’m being more than fair.”

  “I told you I’m on my way out of town.”

  “Seventy.”

  He hesitated, seeming to consider her offer for the first time. Jo pounced.

  “Seventy-five – but I need your word you’ll finish the job.” Like his word meant anything. Probably wasn’t worth the bile that pooled in her belly.

  “Seventy-five a month, plus my own cabin.”

  Jo nodded. Had she lost her mind? Nobody got paid that kind of money on her spread!

  He tipped his head to the side, still not looking convinced. “I’d have a few conditions.”

  She nodded for him to continue. If it meant getting her fence built before she lost half her herd in the round-up, she was ready to concede almost anything. Almost.

  “First – I get real meals – none of the usual crap they serve in bunkhouses. I want to sit down at a real table for my meals.”

  Jo wasn’t about to argue that with him. Who cared where he ate? Besides, Cook had long quit anyway and Newt burned almost everything he put in a pot, so the hands pretty much fended for themselves. And having Travers in the house at meal times would give Mac and Carrie someone else to complain to. Or about.

  Carrie. Jo worried her lip for a moment. Carrie might pose a bit of a problem.

  “Second,” Travers continued, ticking his conditions off on his fingers. “Since you haven’t started the fence yet and you seem to be losing help quicker than you can hire it, we need to bring in someone else.”

  She shook her head. “There isn’t anyone. Lefty said --”

  “I know someone who’ll come.”

  She eyed him uneasily. “Who?”

  “Someone who’s not afraid of a little hard work – even if it’s for a woman.” The grin was back.

  Jo challenged him with her own smile. “Even if it’s for a woman who’s hell-bent on fencing her neighbors out of prime grazing land?”

  “Yup. Even so.”

  “That’d be a nice change.” She looked down into her coffee – anywhere to break the hold his gaze had on her. “Who is it?”

  “Name’s Will Brennan.”

  “Never heard of him.” Jo looked back at Travers. “Where’s he from?”

  “Doesn’t matter. He’s the man for the job.” His gaze never wavered, his voice never hitched.

  “You’re sure you trust him? Or, more to the point, can I trust him?”

  “I’d trust Brennan with my life.”

  “He gets the same pay as my other hands plus room and board.”

  Travers nodded, but Jo hesitated. Not only was she hiring Levi Travers, but now she was going to hire one of his friends? She’d be lucky if the two of them didn’t turn her ranch into a giant whore house. She shuddered. Best not to think about it.

  “Anything else?” When he shook his head, Jo nodded. “Fine. I have two conditions of my own.”

  “And they would be?”

  “My ranch is not a saloon. There’s no gambling, drinking, or ladies allowed. If you want to come into town on your own time and get into trouble, that’s your business, as long as you’re back at work on time and sober. Goes for Brennan, too.”

  “And?” His grin was back again, knocking a bit of the starch out of Jo.

  She drained her mug, then pinned him with her fiercest glare. “And stay away from my sister.”

  Travers choked on his coffee. “What?”

  “Let’s not play games, Travers.” Jo didn’t even blink. “You’ve earned yourself a reputation that I’m sure your mother must cringe at.”

  “My mother’s dead.” Not an ounce of emotion showed in his face. Not a frown, not a tear, not even a sigh.

  “So’s mine.” Jo pushed aside the quick pinch around her heart. “Doesn’t mean we should be doing anything to shame them.”

  He eyed her slowly, almost like he was searching for something.

  “What’s your point, Miss McCaine?”

  “My point is that I won’t have you trying anything with Carrie. She might be young and pretty, but you’ll be keeping your hands to yourself. Save your dazzling little smile and charm for someone like Stella. Got it?”

  His dazzling little smile got bigger. “You think I’m charming?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Or had she?

  “And you think my smile is dazzling.” He raised his brow a notch. “Never been told that before. The charming part, yeah, but never that I had a dazzling smile.”

  Jo rolled her eyes and sighed loud enough to attract Maggie’s attention. When the other woman raised the coffee pot in question, Jo shook her head. The sooner this conversation was over, the better.

  “Do we have a deal or not?”

  “What about you, Miss Joanna McCaine?” His smile slipped away, but his eyes crinkled around the edges. “Can I flash my dazzling little smile and try to charm you?”

  With a grin of her own, Jo plopped her hat back in place and stood. “The name’s Jo, and save your breath, Travers. . .”

  “Levi.”

  “Save your breath, Levi. I’m not interested in being charmed. And besides, once you’ve seen my sister, you’ll forget all about everyone else – especially me.”

  She reached into her pocket for some coins, but stopped when he shook his head at her.

  “Few things you should know about me, Miss Joanna.” With slow measure, he rose from his chair, his gaze never leaving hers. “First off, I make no promises about your sister until I’ve actually seen her.” With a flash of that smile and a wink, he continued. “Second, I’m taking it as a personal challenge to charm you – whether you’re interested or not. And last. . .” He dropped several coins on the table. “I don’t ever let ladies pay for my coffee.”

  Jo suppressed a smile. A lady. No one ever called her a lady. Hell, most people had long forgotten she was even human.

  They walked back out into the sunshine, his hand against the small of her back, as though guiding her. The victory she’d felt at hiring him was outdon
e by the wave of butterflies brought on by his touch and that cursed smile. Good thing she was the sensible one in the family and not an air-brained dreamer like Carrie. Otherwise, she’d sure as sin find herself being charmed by this cad.

  He squinted into the harsh sunlight before setting his twinkling eyes back on her. “When do I start?”

  She quickly recovered her senses and forced herself to concentrate. “Five minutes ago. Better go break the news to Stella that you’ll be busy for the next few months. And wire your friend – the sooner he gets here, the better.” She started across the road to the livery. “Hurry and catch up – the day’s half gone already.”

  Levi’s voice, deep and rich, laughed at her back. “I’d have done it for sixty.”

  Jo tucked her long braid under her hat and called back, “I’d have paid ninety.”

  With one easy leap, she mounted her horse and turned toward home; the home she’d help build. She’d be damned if she was going to lose half her herd in round-up because she couldn’t get a fence built.

  Of course, by hiring Travers, she’d probably just damned herself all the way to hell and back anyway.

  CHAPTER 2

  Levi stood on the boardwalk, hands jammed deep in his pockets, and watched the fiery hellion ride away. Who’d have thought a woman dressed like a dirty old cowhand could be so damned attractive? Heavy denim pants hung straight from her waist and were rolled up enough that she probably could have made two extra legs out of the cuffs. Her blue cotton shirt, little more than a rag and tucked into the belted waistband, didn’t fit much better. In fact, it looked more like an old potato sack hanging off her shoulders. And as for that sorry excuse of a hat. . .

  Nope, he’d never seen such a God-awful getup in all his life. Yet somehow, on young Joanna McCaine, he couldn’t imagine anything else. He’d heard all sorts of stories about her; how she ran her ranch with an iron will and sharp tongue, how she thought she was so damned much smarter than all the other ranchers in the county, and how, ten years after the fact, she still cried when she visited her mother’s graveside. Even so, the girl from the stories didn’t seem to do a damn bit of justice to the woman who’d just hired him.

  The thick gray dust had long settled behind Joanna before Levi finally blinked. He hustled to the post office to send his wire to Will, then gathered his horse and few belongings he owned, and set out for the Double M. Stella be damned, he had better things to do this afternoon.

  The vast Kansas prairie spread out before him in a million shades of green and gold. Wheat fields, cattle, crops and new railroads were popping up everywhere. There was money to be made from the expansion and he’d do whatever he needed to if it meant it would put him that much closer to San Francisco. Even if it meant working for a woman.

  At seventy-five dollars a month, he’d finally be able to leave town on his own, instead of being chased out. He could move on to greener pastures, cleaner saloons and prettier girls than Lefty’s. He’d finally have a life of his own; one that didn’t constantly remind him of who he was and where he came from. Maybe he’d even give up the cards and whiskey and do something legitimate. Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  Until then, his life belonged to Joanna McCaine. And working for a woman was going to be real interesting. Wasn’t a woman alive who could make a decision without changing her mind fourteen times – and if there were two McCaine girls in charge of the Double M, he could only imagine what kind of chaos was running rampant out there regardless of how tough Joanna McCaine was said to be.

  And speaking of Miss Joanna, she sure didn’t waste time playing coy, did she? He’d fully expected to catch up with her by now, but he was almost to the ranch before he had any clue she’d taken the same road.

  Travers slowed his mount to a walk as he neared the McCaine house; a simple two-story, frame and clapboard structure with a gabled roof and two brick-end chimneys. Joanna stood on the porch, leaning against one of the square posts, her arms crossed over her chest. She watched him through doubting eyes, her expression clear; she didn’t trust him any more than anyone else did. And by the look on her face, she would have been just as happy to shoot him as hire him.

  With a cock of her brow, Jo nodded toward the house.

  “Come on in. You might as well meet Carrie while I’m here to keep an eye on you. Then we’ll head out.”

  “Head out where?” Levi slid from his saddle and tossed the reins over the porch rail.

  “The range.” She narrowed her jade eyes at him. “Where did you think you’d find the cattle? In the parlor?”

  He tried not to smile, but God help him, he’d never had a woman speak to him like that before.

  “Even though you won’t be working directly with the herd,” she said as she pushed through the door, “you’ll need to familiarize yourself with the set-up just in case.”

  “Just in case what?”

  “In case the rest of my men quit and I need you to take over the herd.”

  He stomped his boots on the porch, sipped his hat from his head and followed her inside. A soft scent of lemon hung in the air as he took a moment to look around.

  The keeping room was by no means extravagant, but it was nicely furnished with a large mossy-colored sofa and two matching wing chairs. A small oak desk sat under the western window, and in the far corner was a rather old-looking piano, with a fiddle set on top.

  “This way.” With a flick of her wrist, Joanna’s hat tipped into her hand, releasing her long thick braid down her back. It wasn’t red, exactly, but more of a cinnamon-brick color. Not a curl or a wisp in sight, either. The single plait was a far cry from the hairstyles he’d seen on the women at Lefty’s – or any other woman, for that matter.

  Most women liked fancy styles, with those twists and ringlet things and fancy combs or pins – just like Stella wore. Hell, that’s what he liked, too. Was nothing better than pulling those fancy combs from a woman’s hair and letting it tumble over her bare shoulders. Especially when those women were blonde. There was something about a blonde. . .

  “Travers, this is my sister, Carrie.” Joanna’s hard voice – and the sight before him – slammed him in mid-thought.

  Standing in front of him was a girl right out of a fairy tale, draped in pink silk from the choker at her throat, to the tight bodice of her dress, all the way down to her tiny slippers. Her honey-blonde hair was pulled back from her face, with a fringe of soft ringlets framing her face; eyes, the color of the Kansas sky, shone back at him from behind long blonde lashes.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Travers.” The girl’s voice was light as air, her lips curved in a soft smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.” She held out her hand and waited for his response.

  A long moment passed without a word, and before Levi could catch his breath, or take her hand, Joanna slapped him hard across the back of the head.

  “Breathe, Travers.” With an exaggerated eye-roll, she shook her head and moved past the other girl. “Close your mouth and stop staring. We made a deal, and you’ll damn well hold up your end.”

  He didn’t dare remind her that he’d made no promises with regard to her sister.

  The blonde girl giggled behind her hand and flounced up the stairs, leaving Levi to stumble behind Joanna to the kitchen.

  “That’s your sister?” He tried to hide his shock, but who was he kidding?

  “Yes,” she barked. “That’s my sister. What’s your point?”

  It was Levi’s turn to shake his head. “You two don’t look anything like.”

  “I’m aware of that,” she growled. “It’s not like you’re the first to notice.”

  The kitchen turned out to be a large, bright room that welcomed him with its mouth-watering aromas and space to move. White lacy curtains fluttered in the open window and baking pans of various sizes covered most of the table nd side-board.

  Joanna waved him in behind herself.

  “Ginny, this is Levi Travers. He’s going to help with
the fence so Mac can get out with the herd.”

  A middle-aged woman with graying hair, and eyes to match, smiled over the obvious shock of hearing his name. Flour covered her blue-checked apron and most of her right cheek.

  “I’d shake your hand, but. . .” She smiled down at her hands, wrist deep in mucky batter. “Perhaps next time.”

  Levi took quick stock of the ingredients on the table. “Oatmeal raisin?” he asked hopefully.

  “Yes,” Ginny began. “They’re--”

  Jo elbowed Levi hard in the ribs. “She’s Mac’s wife, so you’d be wise to not even look at her.”

  “Joanna!” Ginny’s eyes rounded as she flushed a deep crimson. “My niece forgets herself, Mr. Travers. Believes she’s part man most of the time.” After a brief moment, and a harsh glare at Joanna, she offered him a tentative smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  He offered a slight bow while fighting back a chuckle. “Pleasure’s mine. Your niece,” he tipped his head toward Jo, but kept his eyes on Ginny, “has given the order that I’m not to consort with females of any kind on your ranch, so pardon me if I seem a little. . .antisocial.”

  The corners of Ginny’s mouth lifted, but she didn’t laugh. How could such a sweet woman be married to someone as mean as Mac McCaine?

  Jo rolled her eyes. “Travers thinks himself rather charming, Ginny. Don’t be fooled by anything he says or does. And whatever you do, don’t let him alone with Carrie.”

  A tiny wave of guilt washed over him, but he ignored it. They’d be smart to keep him away from that Carrie girl. Hell, if they had any sense, they’d keep him away from Joanna, too, though it seemed pretty clear she’d be the tougher of the two to win over.

  The older woman looked between Levi and Jo then asked quietly. “Does Mac know he’s here?”

  “Not yet.” A quick flash of something raced across Joanna’s face, but she seemed to recover as quick as it hit her, and turned back to Levi. “Meals are at six, noon and six. Wash bucket’s outside the door there.” She indicated the back door, then pinched a biscuit from the bowl on the counter and tossed him one.

  “Do you do all the cooking?” he asked Ginny. One bite of that fluffy morsel had him hoping so.