Family Matters (The Travers Brothers Series): The Travers Brothers Series

by Rita Hestand

  Her mind wandered to the Travers family. She couldn't place all of them, had only met a few of them once a long time ago. Why Jimmy insisted that this Rusty Travers was the answer to all her problems, she didn't know. Jimmy didn't know them any more than she did.

  She sighed, edging her horse away from a prairie dog hole, she smiled. "Dagger you must be getting old, you didn't even see that hole, did you boy? Looks like your roaming days are about over."

  She petted the sleek coat of her favorite horse and smiled a contented smile. "If Rusty Travers can get me a loan, then I can stay here. And I guess even marriage isn't too high a price to pay. As long as it's in name only."

  The horse neighed at her words.

  "The cowboy doesn't know what he's in for. I'll make him think—married!"

  She giggled and galloped home.

  Chapter Two

  Rusty drove into the O'Leary ranch yard late that cold February night. There were no lights on in the old fashioned ranch house, no sign of anyone being up. He stared at the place in silent appreciation. Nothing fancy, but very workable, he decided. He got out of the truck and looked around. He should have waited to come in the daylight. He might scare her to death, but the sooner he talked to her, the better.

  The wind whipped at his bare neck and he adjusted the collar on his jacket.

  Getting married seemed all wrong to him, especially under these conditions. Maybe if he could talk to the girl, they could come up with a better solution. Surely she didn't want to marry him either.

  The ranch was big according to what his brother had told him, encompassing prime acreage. He couldn't blame anyone for wanting to hold onto it. He'd do the same given the circumstances.

  Even though the house showed signs of wear and tear, and the barn wasn't in the best of shape, it was truly a working ranch, any cowboy could see that.

  He was about to turn around and leave for the nearest town when a low voice curled around him, a very unwelcoming voice. Her voice held the kind of steel edge that curls around your neck and makes your hair stand straight up.

  "Get your hands up, mister. And keep them there."

  It was a female voice, even though it rattled on a husky note.

  "You must be Hannah O'Leary."

  "You've got that right, but it doesn't begin to tell me who you are." she said, her voice sounding much like she'd just woken from a deep sleep. Still it didn't change the fact that her shotgun was pointed at the middle of his back.

  "Not a very nice way to greet your intended, is it?" He tried to turn around, but the butt of the gun stabbed him.

  "So you're Rusty Travers?" the voice sounded just a tad shocked.

  "That's me, now will you let me turn around so I can see who I'm talking to?" He growled angrily.

  "Not just yet. How do I know you are a Travers? You sneak in here at this time of night, what on earth for? A cowboy with good sense wouldn't do something like that. Got any identification?"

  He pointed to his hip pocket with one finger, "In my wallet."

  "Take it out, slowly," she urged him with the tip of the gun.

  Rusty reached around and pulled out his wallet, handing it to her.

  She took the wallet with one hand, and held it up to the dim light coming from the screen door. "I can't see well enough out here. But even if you are, why did you sneak in here in the middle of the night?

  "'Cause I," he forgot about the gun and turned around. But there was no seeing the dark shadow that loomed before him. All he saw was baggy pants and heavy wool jacket, and a floppy hat and the cold hard metal that was too damned close for comfort.

  "'Cause you what?" she asked still pointing the gun.

  "Mind if we get rid of the gun. They have a tendency to go off, you know." He pushed the end of the shotgun away from him and put his hands on his hips as though he were facing down some hombre from the old west.

  "You still haven't answered my question. Why did you decide to come in the middle of the night, like some snake?" she asked.

  They were both mere shadows to each other, Rusty realized as he tried to get a good look at her. There was no moon to highlight the features, only ominous shadows.

  "Look, I just got hit in the face with all this today myself, and needless to say I wasn't thinking too straight. I got a late start, and I wanted to get here to talk to you before everyone showed up for our shotgun wedding." He said on a slightly sarcastic note.

  "Why you," and before he knew what hit him, she had jumped him, straddled him, knocking him to the ground. He wrestled her like a bear, a bear that bit, and scratched and pinched.

  "Hey, hey," he began as he rolled her over and straddled the top of her. Realizing he had the control he relaxed a little as she panted hard.

  "Get off me, you big lug," she demanded, her hair spilling out from her hat like a wild animal, and cloud of darkness covering the ground.

  "This is no way to start a marriage, Little Darlin'," he said sardonically trying to get a good look at her, but unable to make her out in the darkness, no matter how close he got.

  White teeth flashed at him, but it wasn't a smile he'd bet.

  "Don't you Little Darlin' me, you big galoot. Get off of me."

  "No ma'am. Not till you settle down and listen for a minute. I take it you are about as happy about this heavenly union as I am." He said with a chuckle.

  For a second she stilled beneath him, and he realized that whatever she was wearing, it was way too big for her, because her flesh was swallowed in it.

  "You can say that again. I don’t need a man to save me. And if I marry you, it will be in name only." she gritted.

  "Noted. I'm glad we have that straight." He said and rose up to help her up.

  She didn't take his hand. Getting to her feet she backed away from him.

  Another woman came around the side of the house, a shotgun in her hand too. Rusty watched her. She was wearing a robe and had her hair up in some sort of towel or something from the looks of it. He'd sure interrupted them both. But she had a good aim on that shotgun, too. "You all right Miss Hannah?" came the southern drawl.

  "I'm fine, Josey. I'm sorry we disturbed you. Go on back to bed. I can handle this one."

  The woman seemed to stare at Rusty for a full minute then went back the way she had come. "You just give a holler if you need any help, you hear?" She called over her shoulder.

  Rusty faced the wildcat again. "Does everyone on this ranch keep their guns ready?"

  "Josey is a little over protective of me..." Hannah replied.

  "I can see that."

  Hannah seemed to consider the guns and Rusty saw her teeth flash in a quick smile. Then she moved in closer. "Look, this is the most asinine thing I've ever been part of. Naturally, you won't have to hang around once we've got it legal, you know," she insisted grabbing her gun and heading for her house as though he were dismissed.

  Not likely.

  He followed, not liking the easy way she ignored him. Rejecting him first, hit hard. "I'm afraid I've come to stay for a bit." He announced as they neared the porch.

  She whirled around almost in his face. "Stay?" "Yes ma'am." He adjusted his hat.

  "But you just said you don't want this any more than I do. What's to keep you here?"

  "You think we might go in the house to talk about this?" Rusty glanced around the sides of the house, then back at her. "I wouldn't want to disturb anyone else, tonight. I don't need any more guns to deal with."

  "We aren't going anywhere until you explain that statement." She protested, as her hands went to her hips and her legs spread as though she were about to draw a pistol on him.

  He scratched his chin. If he played his cards right, he might get out of the whole thing sooner than he thought. "I don't like this any better than you do, believe me. But, I gave my word. And...like it or not, I'll marry you. Then we'll go get that loan you need so badly. But I want to make good and damn sure you put the money where it belongs—on the ranch."

 
He saw her teeth flash again but she wasn't smiling this time either and he knew her jaw had dropped in a full blown gasp, even the gun fell now. "You think I'd cheat you?"

  It sounded silly even to him, but how could he be sure of anything?

  Rusty eyed her strangely. He hadn't meant it to sound so much like a slap in the face, but he was more than a little sure that's how she took it. The woman had pride, he liked that. Independent too, and she sure didn't lack for spunk. If she was half as cute as her spirit they might get through this without killing each other.

  "Let's just say I'm protecting my investment." He saw her pride swell. Damned if didn't like her grit and determination. Still he didn't know this woman, and he wasn't turning her loose with his name to do as she pleased, especially with his prize winning breeding stock at stake.

  "Investment? So that's what this marriage is all about, you're afraid I'll welsh on my end of the deal. You want to own my property?" She said bitterly. "What could a red-neck like you have, anyway, that would secure a loan of this size?"

  "Try prize winning breeding stock, mine, every one of them. Hand raised. Now you might have a ranch to lose, but I'll have something to lose too, and that gives me the same leverage as you, lady. But you'll still be using my name for credit, and till I know you are using it for the ranch and not something else, I'll stick around. For all I know you might be like your old man."

  He'd gone a little too far, he could tell by the way her head jerked in his direction.

  She took a step closer. "And just what do you know about my old man?" She started to slap him but he caught her arm in midair.

  It wasn't quite fair to accuse her of such trickery, but she made him mad. He tried to calm himself for a second, taking a deep breath.

  "Look, let's start all over, okay?" He pushed her arm down toward her side. "We got off on the wrong foot, and it's probably my fault for coming in the middle of the night."

  He eyed her when she stood silently staring at him. "I'm Rusty Travers; I've come to save you, remember?"

  She stared long and hard.

  "Save me?" She nearly laughed, then sobered. "Let me get this straight, you're planning on living here?"

  "Yes ma'am, I think I am."

  What was he doing inviting more trouble into his life. She was letting him off the hook. They could get married and he could go home, simple, maybe not that simple. Why did he insist on complicating his life with another female. If he lost his breeding stock he'd be the one starting over. Still, he didn't know her and he wasn't sure he could trust this story even if Deke did believe every word of it.

  Deep down, he'd known he was stuck, he gave Deke his word. And he'd keep it.

  "I won't have it!" she stomped her booted heel against the porch and folded her arms over her chest as though that would do any good.

  Rusty was tired and angry and put out with this temperamental mess of a woman. He bent and hauled her over one shoulder and barged into her home like a bulldozer. He ignored the fact that everywhere he touched seemed almost bony, not at all like Jennifer. Good, his mind took notes. Once inside he set her down in the middle of what looked like a living room.

  He turned on the lights, after groping for the switch. The furniture was homey, but comfortably worn. Old fashioned was the word that came to mind as his glance scanned the room. Dollies on the armchairs, an old rocker, a loomed rug, and a well-used fireplace made the place seem almost homey. Then his eyes landed on her. He stopped dead in his tracks.

  Was this his intended wife to be? He almost sighed. She wore the ugliest pair of overalls he'd ever seen, the most faded flannel shirt he'd ever beheld, and that hat was ready for a trash can. Her hair was a mess, falling in bits and pieces around her face and shoulders. She reminded him of a wild colt.

  She wore no make-up, but even without it, he saw classic lines of a woman who could fix up pretty well. Her face was slender, belying the body she hid with her clothes. Her eyes were big and a cow-eyed brown, her brows were finely arched and as dark as her hair. Her skin was almost an olive. He wondered what she might look like with the right clothes and a little make-up.

  He winced inwardly; she certainly wasn't anything like Jennifer. Still he couldn't be sure what she looked like, dressed like that. Her clothes hid her. She probably had a potbelly or thick-waisted and unfit. Jennifer worked out constantly and kept her tiny figure in a perfect eight shape. Just the kind of figure a man liked to sink his hands around. But this—he wasn't sure about. Probably best that she wasn't a knock-out, that way there would be no chance of him falling for her.

  Still her face was a complete shock. In a plain sort of way, she was sorta...cute.

  Cute! Where had that come from? He didn't need to be thinking about her as cute.

  She seemed to be surveying him too. Her eyes went from head to booted heels and came back to rest on his face, slowly. He couldn't help but wonder if he passed inspection.

  Angry eyes stared back at him.

  Whether she liked what she saw was debatable from that instant frown she wore.

  "How many bedrooms do you have here?" He glanced down the long dark hallway.

  She gasped then looked around as though she had to consider the question. "Three, why?

  "That's enough. I'll take one. I'm tired. Can we talk in the morning?"

  He was already headed down the long hallway looking for an obvious place to sleep. She stared after him. Funny he would have sworn she would try to throw him out.

  "The last one on the right...." She informed him.

  He stopped when he found it and turned to look at her. Her mouth hung open and he chuckled. She was almost cute when she looked that surprised.

  "Mind if I take a quick shower and hit the hay, we can talk this out in the morning."

  He turned to find the bathroom at the end of the hall. He nodded and bumped it open with his boot. Then he proceeded to close the door behind him. Not that he was the least bit satisfied with leaving it all up in the air another day, but he'd been digging holes all day, and driving most of the night and a cowboy could only handle so much in one day.

  *****

  Half an hour later, Hannah heard the cowboy come out of the bathroom, felt the humidity from the shower, sniffed the heady scent of freshly showered man, and listened as he crept down the hallway to the spare room.

  She was shocked to acknowledge he had more than his fair share of good looks. No, he was gorgeous, who was she kidding. She'd never seen a man in better physical shape. She hadn't expected that. But she knew his type well enough. He was nothing more than a red-necked cowboy, and she wanted no part of him. She wanted him out of here, now more than ever.

  But how?

  It pained her to admit she would owe him more than a certificate with her name on it and a quick goodbye. But she would owe him. And she hated the debt between them already. That alone could make living with him intolerable.

  What worried her most, wasn't the debt she would owe, nor the fact that he didn't trust her. What worried her was that she felt some odd attraction for him. She recognized it as such, and knew that was nothing but pure trouble.

  *****

  Rusty tip-toed through the dark hallway to the room he'd picked out. He turned back the covers on the bed and smelled the sunshine on them. There was a feather down quilt on top the bed, and it reminded him of home. He smiled. He stretched his sore muscled body across it, wondering just how he planned on handling this woman and this situation. He slipped out of everything but his underwear and slipped between the sheets. He'd left his bag of clothes in the truck, and he wasn't about to go after them now. He'd figure this all out, and soon, but tonight, he was simply too tired to worry about it. He inhaled the clean smell of the linens, as he flopped around till he found a soft spot.

  He tossed and turned trying to get to sleep and regretted it when he realized the springs gave him away. Still, he had to figure out what he was doing here. He wanted no part of this whole set up and suddenly he was
insinuating himself inside the house and into a bedroom without the slightest thought. He must have gone loco; he sighed and closed his eyes.

  Nah, he hadn't gone loco, he just needed some rest. He'd be thinking clearly by morning.

  He was relatively safe; this Hannah girl wasn't his type at all. She obviously didn't go in for the more feminine side of her own nature. Just as well. Although that wild mane of hair falling about her shoulders and face did take him by surprise, and finding huge brown eyes staring up at him almost innocently was more than he bargained for, but she certainly was no Jennifer.

  There wasn't a chance in the world of falling for this gal, he knew that much. Not that she didn't have a few redeeming qualities. Nice full lips, wild and beautiful hair under that dirty old hat, and what secrets was she hiding with those clothes? It didn't matter, his heart was safe. He did like the way she rebelled at the entire idea though. Glad she wasn't keen on the marrying part either. Maybe come morning they could strike some kind of bargain. Maybe he wouldn't have to marry her.

  That was a lot of maybes.

  He tried to remember what he felt when he was on top of her though. He couldn't. More bone than flesh. Maybe she was a skinny runt with no figure at all. Maybe she wore clothes like she did to hide it.

  Probably no curves at all to her, although he thought he felt a slight softness at her breast. Well, he wouldn't be finding out. He wasn't here for that. Even though she was a mystery and he liked unraveling mysteries most of the time.

  No one could ever hold a candle to Jennifer and that was that. So why was he even thinking along those lines. He'd had the best. It'd be a cold day in hell if he ever found anything to come close to comparing to his Jenny girl.