A Cowboy for Katie

by Debra Clopton

  A flurry of women raced to the window and Marcus Crandon strode to the door. Treb followed, ready to step in if he needed to.

  Katie had her gun out and aimed straight at a skinny, shiftless-looking cowpoke who was standing in the street. Treb figured some women might call the man handsome. He didn’t like the man on sight. There was a calculating look in his eyes that instantly made Treb distrust him. And he was good at reading people.

  Behind him, across the street, the gathering of cowboys outside the saloon had multiplied.

  “Now, Katie darlin’, put that firearm away. All I’m saying is I’d like the chance to court you. You need some help and I’m willing and able—”

  “Ha! Willing and able to take my land right out from under me.” She waved her gun at him. “Now move on back over there before I have you high-stepping across that road.”

  Anger, and something dangerous that Treb didn’t like, flashed across the man’s face. Lending support, Treb moved past Crandon and onto the boardwalk behind Katie. The cowpoke met his warning gaze, then he turned to storm back toward the other side of the street. He didn’t stop till he’d slammed through the swinging doors of the saloon and several fellas followed him.

  Katie had made an enemy today. Treb wondered how many others she’d made before he’d come into town.

  She spun back toward the store, her expression grim, the gun still in her hand. A gasp went up behind him. He turned to see feathers and hands waving and ladies scurrying away from the window.

  Glancing to see what his boss thought of that, he found wary, gleaming eyes watching him. In a sweeping motion, she holstered her pistol, leaving her hand resting on the pearl handle like a gunslinger. “I’ve spoke my piece. It’s time to head out.”

  A young teen had loaded up the back of the wagon. He looked a little nervous, standing there, off to the side.

  “Mister,” he whispered low, “you best get on with it before trouble starts. That there fella won’t take kindly to being talked to like that in public.”

  Treb glanced across the street, making sure no others were going to come calling on Katie. Who in his right mind would do that anyway? Hadn’t they seen how she was acting?

  Treb didn’t pick up his pace as he took in the bewildered expressions on the men’s faces. He had to agree, until he got a handle on what he’d gotten himself into, he planned on keeping his focus on doing the job he’d been hired to do, getting his money, and heading out on his new horse as soon as possible.

  “You ready?” Katie Pearl asked as he rounded the end of the wagon. Those wary cornflower-blue eyes slammed into him and knocked the breath right out of him. “We’re wasting daylight.”

  “You driving or am I?” he asked, not at all happy about the way those eyes of hers were affecting him. He’d seen blue eyes before, but there was something different about hers . . .

  What was it about these eyes? They’re crazy, maybe?

  He ignored the echoing voice in his head. Maybe it was that behind their startling color and the warning to keep away, he saw a powerful lonesomeness. He knew about being lonesome, had learned to head it off at the pass when it tried to grab hold of him. For the most part he’d made his peace with it.

  She didn’t look like she had.

  Grabbing the rail, she climbed up and sat down on the seat and looked at him. “Myrtle May’s driving. She always does.” She gave him a half grin that almost made him smile.

  Almost. “Who is Myrtle May?” he asked, climbing up beside her.

  She pointed at the gray horse hitched to the wagon. “Let’s go home, Myrtle May. Hold on, Cowboy.”

  Her warning came almost too late because the horse shot off as if it were in a race. The jolt sent Katie and Treb slamming hard into each other. Katie bounced off of him and nearly toppled over the edge of the wagon. Treb threw his arm around her and yanked her back against him.

  “Thank you,” she gasped, her hat hitting him in the face. She grabbed for it as it went flying out toward the street.

  Treb snatched the hat with his free hand while tightening his grip on Katie just as the silly horse ran straight into the path of an oncoming wagon.

  Katie pushed away from him as if he were a hot coal, then grabbed for the reins as they barely missed colliding with the wagon.

  “Watch out!” the grizzly-looking man yelled. He shot to his feet in his wagon and pumped a fist at them.

  Katie shot to her feet. “Watch out yourself!” she yelled as the wagon careened across the rutted road and past other wagons heading their way.

  Treb gripped her by the gun belt and yanked her down. Her backside hit the seat with a hard thud.

  “Ouch!” she yelped, glaring at him, mouth open, eyes flashing. He pushed her hat at her and snatched the reins in one motion. Fuming, she fumbled to get a grip on her hat before it took another ride on the wind.

  “Myrtle May’s done driving today,” he snapped, pulling firmly on the reins.

  “Hey, give those back to me.”

  “Nope.”

  “You work for me,” she huffed, looking madder than an angry prairie dog. “Give me those reins.”

  “Nope.” Focusing straight ahead, he placed his elbows on his knees and gave a tug to let Myrtle May know he was in charge.

  “Well,” Katie huffed again. He could feel her eyes burning holes in his back. “I ought to—”

  He looked briefly over his shoulder at her. “Fire me? Looks like you have plenty of men lined up ready to take my place.”

  Katie eyed him rebelliously from beneath the brim of the floppy brown hat.

  He wondered if her hand was tickling the pearl handle of her Colt.

  Probably. He could be a dead man in about half a second.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SERVES YOU RIGHT, KATIE PEARL.

  Katie nibbled at her bottom lip, her hands holding tight to the reins the stubborn man handed over to her after they’d gotten out of town and into open space. Poor Myrtle May was moving at her own sporadic pace toward the ranch.

  He hadn’t said a word since he’d handed her the leathers. He’d arched one of his thick, dark brows, then slumped in the seat like a lump of lard. A handsome lump, but a lump nonetheless. He’d pulled his hat down over his eyes and leaned back against the oat bags that were stacked higher than the low seat back. Time for a nap.

  Katie tugged her hat to the side to shield her eyes just a bit, then snuck a peek at him.

  The dad-burn hat got in her way. But she could see that he was a huge, dark-haired mountain of a man.

  She hadn’t realized how big he was until he’d climbed up and sat down beside her. And then when he’d grabbed her up against him! The man had muscles as hard as green pears. Almost knocked the breath out of her when he’d slammed her to him. To be fair, she might have leaned out too far when she stood up and waved her fist at the rude man in the other wagon. Not that she would have fallen out of the thing—she’d have saved herself before that.

  She was good at saving herself.

  Still, truth be told, Treb Rayburn had sort of rescued her . . .

  “So, what are you mad about?” she grunted out loud before she could stop herself. She glanced at Treb and was relieved that he was still sleeping. Since the tornado, she tended to talk to herself—and it was plumb worrisome. But at night in the dark, it was a comfort, hearing the sound of a voice even if it was her own. It had been her only comfort when she’d been trapped in the dark for days, hurting and alone.

  Katie stared out across the pastures.

  She was so thankful her ranch was getting close. Going to town these days was a near intolerable strain, almost beyond bearing now that everyone there thought she was a lunatic.

  You are a lunatic.

  She tried to ignore the voice in her head, concentrating on the wildflowers blooming across this stretch of the road. But even their bright yellow faces and deep burgundy colors failed to lift her spirits.

  Her life was a mess. Nothing helped he
r spirits since the tornado ripped across her home leaving nothing but disaster in its wake.

  Her pa was dead.

  Her home destroyed.

  Sometimes she thought she was destroyed too.

  She wasn’t sure what to think of herself anymore. Honestly, she was scared.

  Not that she’d let anyone know it. Forcing the thought away, she glanced at the good-looking lump. “What were you thinking, Katie Pearl?”

  The old gray horse drove the buckboard over a rut, jostling everyone, including the lump—she’d been hitting ruts pretty regular on this trip. “Haven’t had anyone but myself and Myrtle May to talk to for weeks, and now look what I’ve done. Hired a non-talker.”

  The words slipped out just like before. She shot Treb another glance.

  He nudged his hat back and was studying her. Katie’s insides dipped—even though Myrtle May hadn’t hit a hole in the road.

  “I talk. Just resting a bit. So, you know how to use that sharpshooter on your hip?”

  That he thought she’d been talking to him was a relief. She relaxed, staring at him. She’d forgotten that his voice was as smooth as honey—she’d been having a little trouble with her memory lately. Forgetting things. And her head hurt something fierce sometimes. Of course there were a fair amount of things that weren’t right about her since the tornado. She recognized it, but just couldn’t seem to fix most of them. But she would.

  “Better than most,” she said. “It eases my mind a great deal, just like my pa told me it would when he taught me.” She cut her eyes back to his. “Not many men find my ability to shoot a good thing. Especially when they find themselves staring down the barrel of my Colt or my long gun.”

  “Sounds like your pa was a wise man too.”

  Oh, that got her right in the heart. “He was.” She sighed, giving Treb a grateful look. “Not the easiest man to know, but my pa was the best rancher around these parts. Wasn’t anything he couldn’t face straight on and win because of his mind working so far out in front of him. Just wasn’t nothing he could do when the . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to go on. She rubbed her temple as a pounding started. That day was fuzzy in her head, bits and pieces coming together in odd ways and none of it fitting quite right. Most times she’d wake in the middle of the night crying and with a fierce headache when scenes collided in her head. Her hands were damp just thinking about it. And the pain started throbbing in her temple like a sledgehammer hitting one of those spikes she’d seen workers hammering into a railroad track. She blinked hard and tore her eyes away from Treb’s penetrating gaze.

  “Sounds like you’ve had a tough situation out here.”

  His quiet words caused some calm to settle over her thoughts. She nodded and took a steadying breath. “Nothin’ I can’t handle. Except the building. I don’t know a thing about building.”

  Silence surrounded them again as the blue sky and the green meadows spread out before and behind them. Progress. That was what her pa was always saying. A person always needed to be making progress, moving forward. That was what she was trying to do. Even as dark as things were inside her head since he’d left her.

  And he’d been more than right about the relief she got from making progress and being able to shoot her Colt. If she just kept pushing, things would get better. She hoped.

  “So you’ve had your share of no-goods calling trying to get your ranch?”

  “They call me Crazy Katie, and they might be right. But even I know that since my pa died and left me owner of the ranch, it makes me a prime prospect for marryin’. A bride they think they could make cower so they could claim my land for themselves. They’ve been crawling out of every hole in the ground since I was . . . found alive.” She started to say pulled out of her grave, but the words stuck. “I’ve been running them off by using them for target practice, but they just keep coming. They’re a dense lot, that’s for certain. Isn’t that right, Myrtle May? Some men just need a good kick in the head—that’s what Myrtle thinks about the situation.”

  “I’m real sorry about what you’ve gone through. But it sounds like your pa would be real proud of you and Myrtle May. Sounds like you two have it all figured out.”

  They topped the hill and her gut tightened up knowing what lay on the other side. A wave of lonesomeness crashed over her as she met the deep gray eyes of Treb. Suddenly she was fighting back the urge to cry. She didn’t have anything figured out. Her life lay in ruins over this hill, and try as she might, she just couldn’t fit the pieces back together.

  But looking at Treb calmed some of the upheaval inside her. For the first time since the tornado ripped her world apart, it was good to have someone riding beside her. He might be moving on when the job was done, but for now, there was comfort in his presence.

  And his words.

  The drive to Katie’s place took half the day—especially with a horse that went whatever speed it wanted, when it wanted. The horse seemed at times to simply follow the grass trail.

  It was no wonder, considering how far the drive was, that it took several days for someone to realize she and her pa had been in trouble after the tornado. Katie had talked to herself several times on the drive. He wasn’t sure if she even realized that she was speaking sometimes. If he hadn’t been forewarned, he’d have been disturbed by it.

  He hadn’t been prepared, though, for the extent of damage he was going to see until they topped a rise and there it was—or what was left of the house and surrounding grounds. The place was a disaster. The house had been nearly demolished. One side lay in rubble, the roof was torn off the other side, and the front side was missing too. This had been the home of a man who’d done well for himself and his daughter.

  The extent of what Katie had been through hit Treb as he realized she’d lain beneath all this rubble for days—with her father dead. There was no doubt that God had been looking out for her that day. The cross made of two sticks that marked the fresh grave on the hill belonging to her pa was evidence enough of that.

  There was a chicken coop that leaned to one side and looked as if it had been somewhat repaired. A barn was still standing but part of the roof was missing. The corral was a pitiful sight—clearly Katie had attempted to repair it herself with a mishmash of materials. Surprisingly, though, it held a number of good-looking horses. How it held them in he wasn’t sure, but it did. The makeshift concoction of wood looked as if it might fall down with the slightest wind.

  Myrtle May took them to a spot beside the barn where a small grouping of supplies sat right out in the open. Even bags of feed and flour. Treb didn’t understand why they were here, not with the barn sitting right there with half a roof to protect them from the elements.

  “Unload everything here,” she said, hopping from the wagon.

  She was the boss so Treb kept his mouth shut, though it was hard to do. He got busy earning his wages.

  Hefting the first bag of oats, he laid it beside the other bags of supplies already there in the dirt and watched as Katie unhitched Myrtle and led her to a small pen off to the side of the barn. Like the chicken coop, it was a pitiful thing leaning to one side—the loose posts shook as she tugged the gate open, and the entire pen moved.

  Treb watched her lead the horse inside. With her back straight in her blue calico dress, Katie was silhouetted against the pale summer sky. The poor girl. It was her against the world. A sudden and unwanted wave of protectiveness washed over him.

  “Don’t go there,” he growled to himself under his breath. He shook off the emotion and got back to work. He’d known Katie Pearl for the whole sum of half a day—best just to keep his mind on helping her get her house fixed, then get out of here as fast as he could ride.

  Beyond that, helping her get her life in order was none of his business.

  “Where have you been sleeping?” he asked, eyeing the campfire in the center of the clearing between the rubble that had been her house and the barn.

  She came out of the stall, struggling to
drag the pitiful gate closed before she nodded toward the campfire. “There.”

  Disbelief had him scrubbing the back of his neck hard. “Let me get this straight. You’ve been sleeping out here for a month?” And no one had come help her clean up this wreck? What was wrong with this town?

  “Three weeks,” she said defensively. “And that’s where I’ll keep sleeping. You, on the other hand, can bunk in the barn.”

  She was getting odder by the moment.

  He reckoned he could understand her staying there a night or two. He enjoyed sleeping beneath the stars as much as the next man, and he did it often on his travels, but this was a woman. One used to living inside a nice home.

  But that was her choice and none of his business, he reminded himself.

  As soon as he finished unloading the supplies, he went to check out the barn. It had half a roof but it was a wreck inside. The splintered wood and shingles of the ruined roof still lay where it had caved in. Standing in the entrance, he spied two saddles among the ruins. “There’s some good tack and stuff in here,” he called to Katie. “Do you want me to clean some of this up?” She was over by a pile of limbs and cut wood.

  “That would be a good thing for you to do for now,” she said, distracted as she gathered an armload of wood. “We’ll start the house tomorrow.”

  Glad to have a plan, he strode forward and pushed debris out of the way until he was able to pull the saddles free. How could she be so reckless with something so valuable? Tamping down his consternation, he moved the saddles to the side, then set out to save what he could from the rubble.

  Before the sun started setting, Katie had a roaring fire going and was stirring a pot of beans as he took a break from working. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since the jerky he’d had that morning.

  Moving over to the fire, he sat down on a log and watched her. Her hand shook as she stirred.