Cowboys and Highlanders

by Scott, Tarah

  “I’m here to apply for the position.” She handed him the paper.

  TJ laughed. He had to admit she sounded confident as she spoke. “This is a posting for a ranch hand.”

  “I have two hands,” she said showing her naiveté. “I can do many tasks.”

  TJ rolled his eyes.

  “I can cook.”

  “There are a hundred men working on this ranch at any given time. I have all the cooks I need.”

  “Oh, well, that’s probably for the best. Cooking isn’t my best skill. I’m much better at housework. It would give your wife more time for herself.”

  “I’m not in need of a housekeeper.”

  “Oh. Um…” Her hesitation told him she hadn’t really expected to be turned away. She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “I can clean up after the stock. Help in the fields. Honestly, I am willing to do anything.”

  TJ put up his hand stopping her from continuing. “Not only do I not need a girl who doesn’t look strong enough to lift her bag, let alone work the ranch, but I don’t have the facilities to house you. I’ve got one large building that houses all the help. More specifically, I hire men.” Some of the men he employed were drifters, others had been with him for years. This woman wouldn’t last an hour.

  “I can stay in the barn with the animals.”

  TJ snorted. “You’re obviously new to Montana. It’s too cold in the barns. You’ll freeze. Look outside. It snowed two feet since yesterday and we’ve still got at least another two months of heavy snows. No, now I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

  “I understand. Sorry to waste your time.” She turned from him and reached for the door handle.

  “Oh hell,” he whispered. He didn’t have to see tears to know she was struggling to keep her composure. Her breath hitched, shoulders shuddered, and then she took a deep inhale and turned the handle.

  “Hold on.” He ran his hands through his hair. “You can wait until first light to go back to town.”

  She turned and faced him. “I rode out with Train assuming I would be staying on as a hired hand. I would appreciate it if you could make arrangements to take me back to Copper City.” With her chin raised, back erect, she stood even with his chest.

  TJ groaned. “You mean to say you traveled thirty miles for a job you should’ve known you couldn’t do? Of all the dumb—”

  “Papa?” The little girl returned, followed by Train carrying a small child in his arms.

  “He needs a diaper. And that is not one of my job duties.” He handed the child to TJ. “Besides, I’m done tending to the youngins.” Train opened the front door.

  “I’ll need you to go to town again tomorrow,” TJ called as Train walked out.

  “Can’t, boss. You’ll have to ask someone else.” The door closed with a resounding thud.

  “I’ll find my own way.” Allison opened the door and went after Train.

  TJ stood in the doorway and listened.

  Train smiled at the young woman as she approached the rig. TJ didn’t have to wonder how she’d convinced his right-hand man to bring her back with him. The woman had a certain appeal. She was attractive, if not a little plump. The kind of woman who felt good under a man.

  “I’m sorry I misrepresented myself. I really thought Mr. Bester might have a job for me.”

  “I could have told you there weren’t any women out here. Unless of course, you’re a wife.” Train leaned against the rear of the wagon and crossed his arms.

  “Maybe I could talk with Mrs. Bester? She might like some help taking care of the house.”

  “TJ makes all the decisions.” He walked around the side of the wagon. “I’m afraid if he said you have to leave, there’s not much anyone can do to change his mind.” Train jumped into the driver’s seat, nodded to TJ watching from the door, and set off down the hill.

  Light spilled across the porch. TJ stood in the door still holding the small child. Cast in shadow, his expression indiscernible. “Come inside.”

  The voice revealed nothing, yet caressed her skin with an intimidating awareness. The fine hairs on her arms prickled beneath the layers of clothing.

  “We’ll get you to town tomorrow.”

  Allison reluctantly went back into the house.

  “Take off your coat.” He turned to the little girl. “Sissy, take our guest into the kitchen and get her something to eat. I need to get your brother dressed for bed.”

  After Allison removed her coat, Sissy led her to the back of the house. At first glance, the house looked perfect.

  Allison’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she noticed several details hadn’t been seen to in what looked like quite a while. The wood floors didn’t shine with fresh polish. Spiders had been busy making small webs in the chandelier. And a thin layer of dust covered a mahogany table in the hall. Although there were beautiful doilies on the table, the ivory color had yellowed.

  “Would you like a sandwich or leftover supper? I usually save the leftover supper for papa’s lunch, but I can make him something else tomorrow.” Sissy pulled a stool to the edge of the counter and easily climbed up. She clearly had a system for retrieving items. She crawled and hopped from one location to another in the spacious room. Finally, she jumped down and opened the stove.

  “Be careful.” Allison leapt from the table and took the heavy cloth from her hand. “You shouldn’t touch the stove.”

  Sissy tugged the cloth back and pulled open the oven door. She grabbed a small piece of wood from a crate and tossed it into the fire. “I know what I’m doing,” she said, and smiled. “I’m almost seven. Do you want coffee? Papa says I make the best.” She set the kettle on the stove to heat.

  “Yes, I would. Can I help you?”

  “You’re a guest.” Sissy took four cups from the cupboard. “I need to get my brother some milk.” Her long skinny arms shook as she lifted the heavy carafe. Slowly, she filled two cups half full. “So what do you want to eat?” she asked, setting one of the cups on the tray of a high chair sitting against the wall near the stove.

  “Whatever you feel like making would be fine.” Allison wondered where her mother was.

  “Here we are.” TJ put his son in the high chair and helped him with his cup of milk. “Is that coffee I smell?” he asked, smiling at his daughter.

  Sissy took the hot coffee from the stove and poured both TJ and Allison a cup. Then the little girl proceeded to fill the rest of her milk cup to the top with coffee. Allison wanted to ask this father what he was thinking letting his child have coffee, especially before bed. However, her situation was precarious enough without insulting the man who offered, or rather relented and gave her shelter for the night.

  While they ate, the little boy stared at her and Sissy chattered.

  Twenty minutes later, TJ dismissed himself to put the little boy to bed. Allison and Sissy went into the large front room. Store bought furniture mixed nicely with homemade wooden pieces.

  Sissy sat near the fire, which left Allison to sit on the sofa. There were other chairs in the room, but she wanted to stay close to the fire’s warmth. Tomorrow she might just be on the streets of Copper City.

  “If you want, I’ll comb your hair for you.” Allison felt for the child. Her hair was long and tangled. “When I was young, my mother used to brush my hair after a bath. I always liked it.”

  Sissy thought about it for a moment before jumping from her seat and running up the stairs.

  “Sis,” TJ yelled. “Please be quiet so he can go to sleep.”

  Allison smiled at the irony. TJ’s yelling right next to the little boy couldn’t be helping.

  A minute later, Sissy came charging down the stairs. Once again, TJ hollered. Allison giggled.

  Sissy rolled her eyes. “He’s too all-fired tired to do much more than belly-achin’. When he’s real wrathy, he’d liking to tan my backside. He tells me that, but he never does.” Sissy held a boar hairbrush with a silver engraved handle. Abalone shells decorated the back
of the brush in an interesting flower design.

  “When I was growing up, my mother did all the yelling.”

  “My mama doesn’t say nothing.”

  Allison wanted Sissy to continue, but the little girl plopped down to the floor and crossed her legs.

  “You have beautiful hair.” Allison parted Sissy’s hair into small sections. Working from the roots, she pulled the snarls loose, careful not to yank on the hair and hurt her scalp. “It’s the same color as your papa’s.”

  “Papa tells me I look like my mama.”

  “Then your mama is very beautiful.” Sissy seemed very pleased. She smiled and her shoulders visibly relaxed.

  Sissy’s chatter abruptly ended when TJ returned from putting his son to bed. He clapped his hands twice, and Sissy jumped from the floor and ran into his arms. After kissing his cheek, she turned to Allison.

  “Good night, Miss Allison,” she said, and clamored up the stairs. TJ cringed and Allison nearly laughed. Sissy blew her father a kiss at the top of the stairs. He shook his head, but Allison saw the hint of a smile tilt his lips.

  “She’s sweet,” Allison said. TJ watched her without actually looking. She could feel the weight of his stare, but when she glanced at him, he turned away.

  With Sissy gone, Allison became uncomfortable with the silence. TJ crossed the room. He had his back to her as he poured himself a drink at the marble-topped liquor counter stocked with glass decanters filled to various levels.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  Allison had never wanted to drink before, but somehow the offer from TJ enticed. The flicker of the fireplace reflected off the crystal glass he held in his hand. The amber liquid swirled and hypnotized. She didn’t hear TJ repeat the question.

  He turned to her. Those blue eyes caused her to flush. “Thank you, but I don’t drink,” she stammered.

  “You can have water, or there’s milk in the kitchen.”

  “I suppose with two kids you can never have enough milk,” she said.

  Allison was uncomfortable. TJ was a married man with two children, not to mention a stranger, and they seemed to be the only two adults in the house, all good reasons to feel uneasy sitting alone with him in the firelight on a cold and stormy night. Her stomach pitched and rolled. The long ride, coupled with the loneliness she’d been feeling since the onset of her journey, came to an apex. What else offered an explanation to why her body tingled under his watchful gaze?

  “I appreciate your kindness. I realize now what an inconvenience I’ve caused. I assure you, it wasn’t my intention. I’m simply desperate for a way to earn money.” Allison folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” She flicked an imaginary speck of dirt from her skirt.

  Maybe she never should’ve left Boston. At some point, after she’d given Henry children, marriage to him would’ve become bearable. Money equaled power; the Oakdale’s had both. But still… “I never should have come here.”

  “You’re no different than anyone else. We all need to make our way somehow. You’ll think more clearly in the morning after you’ve slept.”

  She didn’t want to explain Boston, Henry, or the direness of her predicament. Tomorrow TJ Bester would barely be an acquaintance. What benefit would there be in sharing her burden? “Actually, I am tired.” She covered her mouth as she yawned. “And I suppose if I’m to be honest, I knew it was unlikely you’d have a position for me.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It takes a lot of mettle to take a chance. If you were a man, I’d probably find a place for you.” He swallowed the last of his drink. “I’ll build a fire in the guest room so you can get some sleep.”

  “That’s not necessary. I don’t want to impose any more than I have. I can sleep without a fire.” She started to follow him out of the room.

  “Stay put. I’ll be a few minutes and it’ll take some time for the room to warm.” Without a sound, his stocking feet took him up the stairs.

  It was several minutes later when TJ touched her shoulder, startling her. “Ready?”

  Allison leapt off the couch. She didn’t want to admit TJ made her heart skip a beat. Handsome men had spoken with her before, and she had never felt weak in the knees. Of course, there was always the exception, such as at the train platform with this very same man.

  Here was a man with a wife, a family, and a successful ranch. Yet, alone with him, this large room closed in on her. Wherever he stood, the warmth of his body touched hers. Never had she been so keenly aware of a man.

  Allison picked up her bag and followed him up the stairs. “Your home is beautiful.”

  “My wife’s responsible for that. She told me what she wanted and I built it.”

  “You built this house?” The arched ceilings reminded her of the smooth underside of a boat. “I’ll be sure to tell her what lovely taste she has.”

  “We get up early around here.” He opened the bedroom door. “I don’t know who’ll be driving you back to town. Be ready by sunup because whoever gets the privilege is going to want to get an early start.” There was a note of sarcasm to his tone.

  Allison walked into the room. “Mr. Bester?” She stood a few feet in front of him holding her bag. “Are you sure there’s no work around here that would be suitable for me? Perhaps your wife would like help around the house. I love to do laundry and clean floors.” If she couldn’t change his mind, tomorrow she would definitely be in a new line of work by sundown.

  “My wife doesn’t like other women in the house. Good night, Miss Lake.” He softly closed the door.

  Chapter Three

  The following morning, back in Copper City, Allison sat in a restaurant across the street from a large brothel. Business appeared to be a booming at the Dusty Rose. Men entered with alarming regularity. Was the work split between many women at the establishment or just a few? Her head spun with the severity of her situation. Granted, the money would be better if a girl stayed busy, but the amount of men overwhelmed if there were only a few whores. How many men could a woman service in a day? Didn’t she get tired?

  Could she do it? Could she lay down with men for money? Since she didn’t have a place to stay, didn’t have much money left, she was out of options. Trying to look as pleasing as possible, she left the top button of her blouse undone. With an awkward sway of her hips—is this really how women entice men?—she crossed the street to do the unthinkable. “I will not cry. I will not cry,” she repeated softly to herself, walking into the building.

  Smoke hung heavy in the air. Men milled about. Some sat with women in comfortable looking chairs covered with red and royal purple velour. Breasts overflowed from corsets. One man had his hand on the exposed flesh of a woman’s calf as her legs draped across his lap. Bronze statues of naked woman adorned small square tables set in each corner. Wallpaper with an ornate pattern of vines and leaves had turned from a blend of copper and gold, to a mustard yellow and rust. It was beginning to peel around the ceiling and window edges.

  Enticing women flaunted their bodies while serving drinks to men sitting at tables smoking cigars and laughing loudly. A girl made her way upstairs. How long before she’d be back for another customer? They didn’t pay whores to talk.

  A pretty, blond girl tossed her head back and laughed when a man, dirty from the mines with a wiry black beard, slapped her on the fanny and pushed her toward the stairs. “See to my needs, little lassie,” he said with a thick Irish accent. Several men had thick drawls. Their laughter rumbled around the room.

  “Can I help you?” a raspy voice asked. “You look like you’re in the wrong place.”

  Allison caught her reflection in a large sconce mirror hanging on the wall. She gasped at the pasty image. Now that she was here, she wanted to be home married to Henry having his arrogant children and living a miserable life. She couldn’t do this.

  Never did she imagine life in the West would be a disappointment. Of course, there were jobs. Cooks, seamstresses, librarians, and schooltea
chers. But alas, more people were coming into town than there was work for them to do. She was a few weeks away from turning eighteen, without any experience. And if she wasn’t careful, she wouldn’t have this as a possibility either.

  “Honey? Are you looking for someone?” the woman asked. “Hello, you do talk, don’t you?”

  “I don’t…” Allison looked around wildly. “I…” She broke into tears.

  “Oh dear, come with me.” The woman took her by the arm and led her down a long hall and into a private room. “This is the third time this week I’ve had a girl break into tears in my parlor at the thought of becoming a whore.”

  The room had a large desk sitting in the center. In contrast to the parlor, in this room the walls were covered with beautiful paintings and satin cloth. The effect was very elegant. Black, oriental cabinets inlaid with designs of birds and plants lined one wall.

  “My name’s Sandy.” She handed Allison a hankie. “Dry your eyes. Tell me your name and what you’re doing here.”

  Although Sandy was older than most of the women sitting in the parlor, she was still very attractive. Hair the color of a setting sun in the fall was piled high on her head. Her ample bosom barely contained in a red corset. Black fabric cascaded over the curves of her hips draping to the floor. A sheer robe, belted at the waist, wrapped around her shoulders and fell open at her legs.

  Allison sniffed a few times. “I came to Copper City about a week ago. I didn’t expect it to be so expensive. But I couldn’t stay in Boston and now I just want to go home.” She started to cry again.

  Sandy sat on a heart-shaped sofa with heart-shaped throw pillows. “And you’ve come to ask for money? I’m a business woman, honey. Why would you think I would give you anything?”

  “Oh no,” she said, horrified. “I would never beg for money.”

  “Then what do you want?” Sandy stood, causing her silk robe to balloon and sway as she retrieved a cigarette off the desk.

  Allison had never smoked tobacco. Sandy licked her lips, puckered her mouth drawing attention to the thin wrinkles, and inhaled deeply. The tip glowed red. Sandy held the smoke momentarily, finally exhaling on a sigh.