by Joyce Armor
“Let’s go check out every ounce of her,” Jackson said as he headed toward the barn. “I’d hate to have to put her out to pasture.”
Garrett followed him with the pinto. “You’re talking about the horse, right?”
Jackson chuckled as the two men entered the barn, where it took only a minute to discover the problem. Garrett removed the horse’s saddle and blanket. He set the saddle on a rail and checked the blanket carefully before he found it: a large burr. He noted a bloody spot on the horse’s back where the burr had dug in.
Garrett held the nasty burr between his thumb and forefinger for Jackson to examine.
“That didn’t get there by itself,” the rancher said. “Somebody has it in for our housekeeper.”
“I knew she was hiding something.”
* * *
Libby spent a couple of hours sitting up in bed, wearing only her chemise. She was propped against several fluffy pillows, as Carmen entertained her with stories of her childhood in Mexico and tales of the ranch in Carmen’s early days as the cook. They weathered Indian raids, blizzards, rustlers, flooding and other disasters. It was hard to picture her mother withstanding any of those challenges. To leave a fine man like Jackson, though. If they truly had been man and wife, she must have been awfully shallow. Libby almost chuckled at that. Elinora was shallow. It was all about pretty things and the image with her.
“Was Mr. Butterman married back then?”
“No, I worked here for three or four years before the señor married.”
“He must have had…lady friends before that. He’s so handsome,” Libby fished, but Carmen wasn’t biting.
Her head still throbbed, yet Carmen’s chatter seemed to dull the pain. At times, she didn’t even feel it.
“The ladies have always appreciated the señor,” the older woman said as she rose. “I must see to dinner. I will send someone up to sit with you.”
“Really, that is not necessary,” Libby smiled.
“Jes it is. You cannot sleep.”
Naturally that made her yearn to close her eyes and sink into oblivion. Libby sighed as Carmen picked up the tea tray from the bedside table and walked off. The young housekeeper was so tired. I’ll just close my eyes for a minute.
She must have dozed off, for suddenly someone was gently nudging her shoulder and she startled awake to find Jackson Butterman, of all people, leaning over her.
“No sleeping, remember? Doctor’s orders.”
“Oh, I was just resting my eyes.”
“Hmm…I noticed,” he said, not buying it.
She smiled guiltily. Libby wanted desperately to talk with this powerful man who could be her father but wanted almost equally as desperately for him to go away. She wasn’t at full strength; she wasn’t ready. She didn’t know what to say, especially in her current, oh-so-vulnerable condition. A part of her wanted to just blurt out her story, yet she wasn’t ready to fully trust him yet. So she said nothing.
He sat and seemed to be at a loss for words as well.
She studied him, struck again at how attractive and solid he looked. A man’s man, looking so red-blooded in a light green shirt and the ubiquitous black vest. “Surely you have more important things to do than sit here with me,” Libby finally said.
“Do you need anything?” He had a way of following his own agenda, no matter what someone said or did, the mark of a good leader, she supposed.
“No. Thank you.”
“Are you feeling any better?”
“I…”
“You don’t need to lie.”
She hesitated, then started again. “I suspect I am going to feel a bit worse before I feel better, but I truly am not so bad. It’s just a headache and a few aches and pains. It could have been much worse.”
“Carmen is making her famous enchiladas for dinner. I think a good meal will perk you up. After dinner, we’ll talk about the incident.”
“The incident?”
“Your ‘accident.’”
The way he said “accident” sent a shiver down her spine.
“All right.” She pulled the quilt up nearly to her neck, just to be doing something. “Would you mind pouring me a glass of water, please?”
He did so and handed her the glass, noting her unsuccessful attempt to keep her hand from shaking as she grasped it.
“You have not gotten very much work out of your housekeeper yet,” she observed wryly. “I am very sorry. Tomorrow I should be able to get back to work. ”
“Don’t worry about that. There is no sense coming back to work until you’re one hundred percent.”
She handed him the glass. “Still, I apologize for inconveniencing you.”
“ This could not be predicted,” he said as he set the glass on the nightstand, and then added, “could it?”
“Uh…no, of course not.”
“Then your job is safe.”
That gave her a sinking feeling somehow. Jackson was definitely a man who would not countenance lying. But she wasn’t really lying, except about her name. She was simply holding her cards close to the vest. They chatted about the ranch and a little about her journey west and then heard Carmen ringing the dinner bell.
“I’ll assist you downstairs,” Jackson said. He was such a rancher gentleman.
She squirmed a little bit. “Um…I need to…”
He looked at her, not understanding.
“I’m not…”
Still no comprehension.
Time for some plain speaking. “I have to put my gown back on.”
“Oh.” He jumped up like he was sitting on heated coals. “I’ll wait in the hallway. Just come out when you’re ready. You’re sure you don’t need any help? Not by me!”
She smiled. It was somehow heartwarming to see the strong, capable man floundering. “No, I’m fine. I’ll be there shortly.”
After he closed the door, she got up and swayed dizzily, fighting a wave of nausea. She grabbed the bedpost for a moment and took a deep breath before finding her footing. Now there was only one of everything. Good. She slowly made her way across the room. As she donned one of her new gowns, the yellow one, she glanced out the window, wondering how hard it would be to escape through that venue rather than face the music. She could tell even Jackson was becoming suspicious of her now. She had to laugh, in spite of herself. Libby was many things, but she wasn’t a coward. She rebraided her hair, pinched her cheeks, took a deep breath, turned and headed for the door. Hesitating momentarily, she sucked in more air, opened the door and walked through to meet her fate.
The dinner was delicious, as the Butterman patriarch had predicted. Carmen had a way of making every meal taste wonderful, her culinary repertoire ranging from delectable Mexican dishes to more traditional American fare, including beef and pork roasts and sumptuous stews. In addition to Garrett, Jackson and Carmen, four ranch hands and the stable boy, Jody, who was Gem’s son, joined them for the meal, which included a dessert of melt-in-your-mouth chocolate cake.
When everyone finished eating and Carmen began clearing the plates, Libby saw Jackson nod toward the ranch hands and the boy, and they practically knocked over their chairs in their haste to exit.
Uh-oh. That can’t be good. Libby was in trouble.
“Dinner was wonderful. Thank you, ma’am,” said one cowboy.
The other three added their appreciation, the boy just grinned and they all quickly took their leave.
Libby could barely breathe. Her heart began pounding so hard she thought surely it would burst through her chest. Why didn’t they just shoot her? Or chuck her out the door? It might be less painful.
“How are you feeling? You’re still awfully pale. Would you care for some brandy?” Jackson asked her as Carmen handed him his usual after-dinner drink.
“No, thank you. I’m not much for spirits.”
“Garrett?”
“Not tonight.”
Great. He wanted to be sober for the inquisition or attack or whatever it was to
be. Libby shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she poked at her cake crumbs with her fork. Jackson eyed her thoughtfully while sipping his brandy. She felt like a bug under a microscope.
Garrett tipped his head as he watched her as well. Even when obviously nervous, she somehow got to him. There was just something about her. Run! his instincts told him, but he didn’t move. He would play this hand out.
“Is there something you want to tell us?” Jackson said, swirling the brandy in his glass.
Libby looked up. Yes, unfortunately, he was speaking to her.
“About what?” Now she was just embarrassed. It was obvious they all knew she was hiding something. Did he know about her connection to Elinora or that she had lied about her name?
“Your accident today was no accident. Someone put a burr under your saddle.”
“What? It couldn’t have gotten there by mistake?”
Garrett snorted.
“No,” Jackson said. “Is there someone who wants to cause you harm? That fall could have killed you, Libby.”
A part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him she was his long lost daughter and to take what comfort he could give her, but perhaps she was a coward after all.
She couldn’t do it. Not yet. Still, if her tormenters had caught up to her already, she had to tell the men about them in case it put them and others on the ranch in danger. No, it was worse than that. She had to leave before someone else got hurt.
Libby looked at her hands for a long time, tapping her fingers on the table. Then she sighed and looked up. Carmen was about to take her plate when Libby put up a hand to stop her.
“You should hear this too, Carmen.”
The cook looked at her questioningly, then at Jackson, who nodded. She sat.
Libby sighed and then looked up, resigned. “I grew up in St. Louis. My father was very cold and sometimes cruel. My mother was rather oblivious. She had her clubs and charities and didn’t pay much mind to me, but she came to the marriage with wealth. She set aside a huge dowry for me that could not be touched until I married or I turned 21, whichever came first.”
“How old are you?” Jackson inquired.
“I’ll be 21 in 12 days.” It was the first thing she thought of every morning when she awoke, not because of the money she would inherit but because she would be safe. She paused, thinking, wishing she could be somewhere else.
“Go on,” Garrett said, his eyes narrowing.
That bothered her. She felt as if she had been gaining his trust, and now it was gone. “Two weeks ago, while my mother lay dying, my father told me I had to marry a man named Edward Capo DeJulius in three days. I had no idea who he was.”
“I thought you said he was your stepfather.”
“He is, but I didn’t know it at that point.”
The men leaned in almost imperceptibly, obviously intrigued.
She didn’t notice the way Carmen’s eyes homed in on her at that admission.
“When I told my mother about the wedding, she was happy for me until she found out who the groom was. Then she became terribly upset. She said DeJulius is a monster and she gave me money to flee.”
“That’s how you ended up here,” Jackson said.
She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Yes. My mother said her husband was selling me to DeJulius to take care of his gambling debts. She also said both men would come after me. I thought I would be safe since I only had to hide out for a few weeks.”
“Apparently not,” Garrett said. It was almost an accusation.
“I’m sorry,” Libby replied. “I didn’t think I would be putting anyone else in danger.”
“You think your father…or stepfather would actually harm you?”
“I’m not sure, but…yes, I think he might. He never liked me or treated me well. If I’m gone before I turn 21, the dowry is his.”
Garrett put his hands on the table as if he were trying to hold it down. “What about this other fellow?”
“Edward DeJulius? If he finds me, he will try to force me into marriage.”
“And after that, he won’t need you alive either,” Jackson pointed out.
“I’m very sorry,” Libby said, and Garrett, in spite of himself, felt sympathy. She was the victim here, and she was apologizing. “I did not think they would find me so fast. I’ll pack up right away and move to town and then get the next stage out.”
She started to get up.
“Sit,” Jackson said with an authority that brooked no disobedience.
She sat, waiting for the inevitable lecture and berating. She didn’t feel like Lionhearted Libby now. She felt rather pathetic.
Jackson took another drink, then set his glass down and folded his linen napkin as he chose his words carefully. “I wish you had been honest with us when you arrived,” he began.
Garrett noticed she had paled even more. Was she afraid of Jackson? Did she think he would hurt her or punish her?
“But none of this situation, it seems to me, is your fault,” he continued, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Unless these men are going to bring an army with them, this ranch is about the safest place you could be.”
“But I can’t…”
“…You can and you will stay here, at least until you turn 21 and your money, and of course your life, are safe. We protect our women here, Libby. Nothing will happen to you. You have my word.”
And his word was his bond, unlike Elias Parminter’s. How could she be so lucky?
“But you need to be smart,” Garrett pointed out. “Don’t leave the ranch without an escort, me, Jackson or one of the hands. Be aware of your surroundings at all times.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to put anyone in danger. I would feel terrible if…”
Carmen patted her hand.
“You are one of us now, señorita. Think of us as your family.”
Libby’s eyes darted to each of the people at the table. “I…don’t know what to say, except I promise this will not affect my job. I’ll still do the best job I can.”
“All right then.” Jackson rose and started to leave as the others began to get up. He turned back to his housekeeper. “Libby?”
“Yes?”
“If anything out of the ordinary happens, you let one of us know right away, day or night.”
“Yes, sir. I will,” she promised.
Carmen and Jackson left the room, but Garrett held back until they were gone. “I…uh…I know you’ll probably go crazy if you’re stuck inside all day, every day,” said. “If you want, I will try to find time to ride with you, on the ranch. You should probably rest tomorrow and stay away from town for these two weeks.”
“Even church?”
“Even church. But a few prayers wouldn’t be amiss.”
“I would like to ride, Garrett. Thank you.”
She smiled, and he felt an inordinate amount of contentment. It’s a smile, not the second coming, he chided himself.
Three days later, Carmen packed Libby and Garrett a picnic lunch of fried chicken, sweetbreads, fritters and citrus fruit, along with her special lemonade in a sealed container. He saddled their horses, attached the small picnic basket behind his saddle and helped her mount the pinto.
“Did you check for burrs?” she joked.
“As a matter of fact, I did, and she’s all healed from the last incident,” he smiled as he effortlessly jumped into his saddle. She couldn’t help but notice his taut muscles that perfectly complemented his ruggedly handsome face. Garrett Winslow was all cowboy, for certain. Like Jackson, he looked like he was right out of a dime novel. She didn’t see how she would ever look at fancy Eastern gentlemen with their lace cuffs and pristine appearance the same way again. They would seem sickly or at least ineffectual in comparison. The two headed out of the barn and, after passing the ranch house and waving at Carmen, urged the horses into a comfortable lope.
What was Carmen up to? Libby had the feeling she was the smartest one of all of them, and she was prac
tically beside herself with joy when Libby asked her if she could take a little snack with them on their ride. Carmen had shooed her away and prepared a four-course meal and had a spring in her step when she handed it to Libby. She obviously was trying to encourage a romance between the two. For a brief moment, Libby allowed herself to wonder what that might be like. Then she tossed it right out of her mind, reminding herself that no man, especially one as bossy as Garrett, would rule her again.
It was a gorgeous day, the sky as blue as blue could be, with a few puffy white clouds, the snow-capped mountains gleaming in the distance, the hills alive with waving grasses and yellow and blue wildflowers. Libby felt a serenity of spirit that had eluded her much of her life. It balanced the guilt she bore for not telling Jackson the whole truth. She promised herself she would do so as soon as the immediate danger passed. She wanted him to want her because she was his daughter, not because she was a damsel in distress. And she was almost positive she was his daughter, hoping that wasn’t wishful thinking.
They rode for what seemed to her to be several miles before coming to a truly stunning vista overlooking a beautiful picturesque creek bordered by shining boulders and majestic pine trees. A master painting could not have looked more breathtaking. Garrett reigned in his gelding, and Libby stopped beside him.
“Oh, Garrett,” she whispered almost reverently. “This is exquisite…perfect.” Why people thought they needed a church to be close to God, she didn’t know. She could feel His presence here.
“It’s my favorite place on the ranch. I come here sometimes when I need to think.”
“It is incredible, and I’m honored. Thank you.”
Suddenly his collar seemed too tight. Somehow she had struck a nerve and it annoyed him. “Well, don’t read too much into it,” he almost spat out. “We had to go somewhere.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean…I just…I’m just happy to be here. That’s all.” Please, couldn’t the earth just swallow me up now?
“Let’s go down closer to the creek,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
It was the old, grouchy Garrett. Now she felt on level ground. No need to think about his muscular forearms or strong, calloused, beautiful hands. No, sir. Concentrate on his rotten attitude.