Southern Charms

by Trana Mae Simmons

  “Need any help?” Shane asked, coming up beside her.

  “Cinder prefers I take care of him,” she said honestly, taking her gunny sack to the other side of the horse without looking at him. “Why don’t you wait up at the house? There’s no sense in you having to suffer in this heat.”

  “It isn’t even the end of June yet. How bad is the heat in August here?”

  “Bad. But you know what they say.”

  “No. What?”

  “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. They say that down around Houston, closer to the Gulf, you could almost wash your clothes outside without a tub of water in the summer.”

  Shane chuckled, and she realized she was coming to know that chuckle. Expect it, even. Like it, even.

  “They are obviously right,” he said.

  Smiling, she finished wiping the sweat off Cinder and picked up her curry comb. Tried to, anyway. She heard the rasp of it on the other side and realized Shane had found it on the shelf and was already currying the gelding.

  So much for what she had said about Cinder preferring her to care for him. Had the horse been a cat, it would be purring in contentment at the sure strokes to its hide. Shoot, the gelding’s eyes drooped to half mast in enjoyment, skin rippling in pleasure at Shane’s sure, strong strokes.

  Grabbing her hoof pick instead, Ellie bent to examine Cinder’s hooves. She hadn’t noticed any problems with his gait on the way in, but experience warned a stone hidden in a loose shoe could cause later problems.

  The rear hoof was fine. She backed up and picked up Cinder’s front hoof. Hearing a grunt, she glanced over her shoulder.

  Shane stood there, staring at her, the curry comb ready to fall out of his grasp. A violent blush heated Ellie’s cheeks at the picture she made—rear sticking inelegantly in the air while she held Cinder’s hoof in her hand.

  She dropped the hoof with a thud, and Cinder let her know he didn’t care for the rough treatment. He turned and butted her on the rear. She stumbled and caught herself against Cinder’s rump.

  “Hey, horse, quit that,” Shane ordered. An instant later, he peeled Ellie away from the horse and turned her in his grasp. “You all right?”

  “I’ve been butted by horses before,” she insisted, struggling against his hold.

  “Butted on the butt?” Shane repeated. “Oh, yeah, I understand.”

  Ellie’s blush heightened at the intent of his words. Her embarrassment put a sharp bite in her tone. “Not only does Cinder prefer me taking care of him, I prefer it myself. Do you mind waiting up at the house?”

  “Hey.” Shane spread his arms in an innocent gesture. “I was only trying to help.”

  Grabbing the curry comb from his hand, Ellie put her back to him. She curried the other side of Cinder with vigorous strokes, and when she didn’t hear Shane move off immediately, she sent a quick glare over her shoulder. He guiltily jerked his gaze upward from studying her bottom again.

  “I’ll see you up at the house,” she gritted.

  Shrugging, he turned and stuck his hands in his trouser pockets, then sauntered away. He didn’t once look back, which she knew because she watched him all the way out of the barn. Disgusted when disappointment stabbed her after his broad back disappeared, she bent back to her task.

  A moment later, as she was getting ready to turn Cinder into the corral and give him a measure of oats, Ellie heard a thunder of hooves race into the ranch yard. No one galloped a horse after a hard day’s work in this heat without a good reason—and usually the reason meant trouble. Leaving Cinder tied to his stall door, Ellie ran from the barn.

  Cal drew his cow pony up in front of the barn in a shower of dust and leaped from the saddle. Having heard the commotion from inside the bunkhouse, Shorty was right behind him.

  “Danny’s out at the north water hole,” Cal said without preamble. “Either the stream broke through one of the underground alkaline shelves or someone poisoned the water.”

  “How many?” Ellie asked.

  “Two dead,” he replied succinctly, catching her meaning without further explanation. “Danny’s keepin’ the rest of them away, but we’ll need to fence off that hole or more will die.”

  “Saddle a couple fresh horses while I hitch the wagon up,” she ordered. “There’s posts and wire in the supply shed. Shorty, get it open and be ready to load soon as I pull the wagon over there.”

  “Can I help?” Shane stood at Ellie’s side.

  “We’ll probably be out there until after midnight,” she warned. “It’s a fairly large water hole. And you’re not really dressed for range work.”

  “I don’t have anything better to do. And I don’t mind if these clothes get dirty. They’ll wash.”

  “Then we would definitely appreciate your help,” Ellie said honestly. She wasn’t foolish enough to turn down an extra pair of hands in an emergency—strong hands, at that.

  She headed for the other pasture on the far side of the barn, where her two draft horses lazed away days when she didn’t need them to pull the wagon for ranch chores. She whistled, and the well-trained animals responded with plodding but certain steps. Quickly she caught them and led them into the barn, where she harnessed them and hitched them to the wagon. By the time she drove the wagon over to the storage shed, Shane had piled a good stack of fence posts outside.

  Shorty watched Shane in awe as he picked up six fence posts and heaved them into the wagon bed while Shorty had trouble managing his three. Shane started to grab a roll of wire, but Ellie stopped him with a cry.

  “Here.” She dug into the wooden box on the wagon where she kept tools and gloves. Pulling out the largest pair of gloves she could find, she tossed them to him. “That wire is sharp. That’s why they call it barbed wire.”

  “Thanks.”

  As soon as the wagon was loaded, Shane climbed onto the seat beside her. Ellie clucked to the horses, heading them out in a trot. It was quite a drive to the water hole, but they would make the trip easier if they drove more slowly than if they hurried in this heat. On fresh mounts, Cal and Shorty galloped ahead, leaving her and Shane to follow alone.

  As they passed the bunkhouse, Cookie came out and Ellie pulled the wagon up. He loaded several canteens into the wagon, then went back in and brought out a wooden box covered by a white cloth.

  “I’ll have a regular meal ready when y’all get back in,” he said.

  Ellie nodded and sent the horses on their way again.

  “You seem to have a well-trained crew,” Shane mused after a moment.

  “You mean, for being bossed by a woman?”

  “No, I didn’t mean that at all,” Shane said in an exasperated voice. “It’s just that Rockford said you had several thousand acres here, yet you run the place very efficiently with a small crew. I have to admire that in a male or female foreman.”

  “You don’t have any experience at knowing how a ranch is run.”

  “No, but I do know about running a business efficiently. And at the bottom line, that’s all a ranch is—a business where you need to make a profit over and above your expenses.”

  Grudgingly Ellie admitted he was right. Still she had a long-standing prickliness and ready defensiveness whenever anyone discussed the subject of her being a female in charge of a cattle ranch. Not that other women hadn’t successfully run ranches in the West. Shoot fire, she knew of at least two other ranches in their end of the state with women who were widows running them.

  For some reason, though, she wanted Shane Morgan’s respect a tad more than she’d ever wanted any other man’s. Why, she had no idea. He was only an eastern tenderfoot, who was more at home with smokestacks than buffalo grass.

  Wasn’t he?

  * * * *

  It was well after midnight by the time the weary group re-entered the ranch yard. Cookie kept his word, and a hot meal waited for them, although Ellie was far too tired to eat much after they cared for the horses and went to the bunkhouse. Talk swirled desultory, mostly consi
sting of their certainty the poisoned water hole was a natural disaster rather than a man-made one.

  Ellie had made sure she sat close by the doorway, and after a few bites, she stood.

  “Why doesn’t everyone take an extra hour in the morning? I, for one, am going to. But right now, I really need to clean up and get to bed.”

  Shane stirred beside her, and Cookie said, “I fergot to give you the message from your sister, Miz Ellie. She said that there other’n, that Rockford, went on back inta town. But he put that ‘uns—” he nodded at Shane “—horse in a stall first.”

  Understanding Cookie’s cryptic words—that Rockford had put up Shane’s horse before he went back into town—she realized it would be an insult to Shane to force him to make that long ride back tonight. He had worked as hard as the rest of them—perhaps even harder.

  “There’s a guest room always prepared at the house,” she told him, knowing her men would expect Shane to stay up there and not with them. “And a bathing room off the kitchen you can use before you retire.”

  When she moved out the door, he stood and came after her.

  “You can finish eating,” she told him when he caught up to her slow, tired stride. “I’ll light a lantern in the room you can use and leave the door open.”

  “I ate ten times as much as you did while you toyed with your food,” he said with that nice chuckle that took the sting out of his words. “I’m more than ready to clean up and catch a few hours sleep, and I definitely appreciate the offer of a bed for the night.”

  “By the way, Shane,” Shorty called after them. “Thanks for all your help.”

  “No problem,” he called back.

  “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Ellie said as they walked. “We’d still be out there if you hadn’t helped.”

  He only nodded and strode on beside her, matching his stride to hers. The night had cooled the air to a tolerable degree, although later in the summer the nights would swelter in tune with the days. For now, the sky overhead—clear, pure and cloud-free—reached endlessly into the far corners of the universe, yet the stars and planets filled the vastness. A bright moon sent Shane’s shadow skittering ahead of them as though they chased it to the porch. It climbed the steps silently before they did.

  Shane held the door for her, but remained on the porch after she entered the house.

  “I think I’ll stay out here and have a smoke before I go in.”

  “You smoke?” she asked. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Not often, but once in a while I enjoy one. Please don’t feel you have to keep me company for politeness’s sake. I was in the kitchen earlier and know where the bathing room is. And I can find the guest room and put myself to bed.”

  “All right.” Ellie stifled a yawn. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She hurried out of sight, and Shane closed the door. He stared into the dimness on the other side of the screen until he realized what he was doing and that his thoughts were too unclear to make any sense. Strolling over to the porch railing, he propped a hip on it and leaned back against a post, taking his makings from a shirt pocket.

  He didn’t smoke that often and in fact, had thought about quitting. Supposedly tobacco was only an enjoyable vice that men kept away from the ladies due to their disgust at the vile smell. But Shane had noticed some of the heavier smokers at the club hacking and coughing unpleasantly as they aged.

  He deftly rolled the fine-cut tobacco into a paper and licked it closed. Few people he knew rolled their own smokes, most of them having succumbed to the easiness of pre-rolled cigarettes. They just didn’t taste the same, though.

  He struck a match on the porch railing and inhaled. The smoke found its place in his lungs, and he enjoyed the easing of tension and sense of looseness it fostered. Dropping the match into a nearby flower pot, he studied the ranch and the people he hadn’t even known would enter his world a few days ago.

  Despite the energy-draining heat, he had enjoyed the work of fencing off the waterhole this evening. The men treated him as one of them instead of a city-slicker outsider. Had Rockford joined them, it might have been different, but Shane didn’t suppose the other man even gave a thought to helping out. Probably had been surprised when Shane rode out with the crew.

  Granted, the man was besotted with Darlene Parker, but you would think Rockford would grab a chance like helping in an emergency to win some points with her. After all, the ranch belonged to Darlene and her mother, from what Shane had found out in the Pinkerton report.

  Is that what he had done with Ellie? Tried to win points with her? Tried to impress her, win her admiration by helping her with her all-important ranch? Clearly, the Leaning G meant a lot to her, given how hard she worked.

  Shane dragged on his cigarette, denying the contemplation as soon as it crossed his mind. He hadn’t even known Ellie two days ago, and he had absolutely no reason to try to impress her. He only needed to gain her confidence long enough to see if she remembered any further clues to either prove or disprove her identity.

  Given what he already found out—the records on the train being destroyed—he doubted he would be able to find firm evidence one way or the other. With Ellie admitting she was only two when she arrived, he doubted very much she would recall anything of her former life. He assumed, though Ellie hadn’t said so, that the chaperons on the train had told George what Ellie’s name was along with her age. But George had given his adoptive daughter his own last name. Maybe changed her first name, also. Indeed he had, if her identity panned out.

  But the Pinkerton’s report indicated the two elderly women accompanying the orphans were both dead now, after eighteen years. So there was no way to question anyone directly associated with the orphan transport.

  There was that one strong coincidence, though. Rose Spencer’s daughter had been two years old when she disappeared. And being unable to find her cherished daughter had contributed to Rose’s untimely death.

  Shane had no idea what he would do if he couldn’t prove Ellie’s identify one way or the other. He wouldn’t even think of allowing his mother to become involved with Ellie without proof she was truly Rose’s daughter. It would break Mariana Morgan’s heart if she fell in love with Ellie and then found out later that Ellie had accepted the place in life as an heiress under false pretenses.

  He finished his smoke and ground the butt out in the flowerpot. Ellie Parker sure didn’t fit the picture of a missing heiress. Physically, maybe. She had that delicate, fine-boned stature that came from a background of blue-blood, and she would blend right in with the crowd of the season’s debutantes at their coming outs.

  No, she would probably outshine the lot of them, he admitted. Not strictly due to her physical beauty, either. She had an assurance and capability most women lacked—a maturity he admired. It took a special person to be able to supervise a crew of men and have them not only accept her rules but work without resentment under them.

  He actually enjoyed her company, too, he admitted.

  “Keep you mind on why you’re here, Morgan,” he reminded himself.

  He needed to finish his business and get out of here. He couldn’t imagine how these people tolerated this hot, barren state. This western-type culture. This...Texas. Even in town, he felt like he was in a foreign country where he had trouble understanding the language. The sooner he got back to New York, the better.

  He had accompanied Rockford out here today not only to get to know Ellie better, but in the hopes of meeting the elusive stepmother.

  He actually admitted that lie aloud. “Sure you did, Morgan. You came out here because you wanted to see the pretty little blonde named Ellie again.”

  He did need to feel out the stepmother, though, but the woman hadn’t made an appearance. When he managed to bring her name up casually in the conversation, Darlene said her mother didn’t receive visitors in the heat of the afternoon, but she would join them for dinner.

  Dinner he missed because he wen
t out on the range to help out that pretty little blonde.

  At this point, the stepmother would be the most likely one to know any further background on Ellie. Even with the records destroyed, she might have talked to some of the chaperons of the orphans. Or found out what her husband had been told. Might be able to at least confirm the point of Ellie’s entry onto the train.

  But how could he question the stepmother without raising suspicion? The only idea he had come up with so far had been discarded as soon as he met Ellie Parker and found himself admiring her drive and independence.

  He couldn’t bring himself to evidence a false interest in Ellie. Play on the fact that he wanted to know more about her before he took the final step of asking her to be his wife, which was the only reason Elvina Parker probably would answer his inquiries.

  He snorted repugnance at himself when the thought crossed his mind that courting Ellie wouldn’t be an unpleasant chore. He would have to walk a fine line in order to pursue his investigation without giving Ellie the wrong idea—that he was indeed trying to build a relationship with her.

  He turned and went on into the house. For an instant, he thought he saw someone over beside the window curtains, but on closer examination, it was just the breeze blowing one of the curtain sheers. He walked on to the kitchen, wishing he were back at the hotel and could take a full, soaking bath, given his tired muscles.

  In the bathing room, he found his wish fulfilled. A marble tub stood there, with spiquots ready to emit both hot and cold water for a bath. Someone had laid out a man’s nightshirt, which he supposed had belonged to George Parker. It was probably too small, but he wasn’t picky right then.

  Chapter 7

  As soon as Shane disappeared into the kitchen, Elvina emerged from behind the curtain at the window and climbed the stairwell. From her invisible stance in a corner of the room, Fatima watched her. She had no idea why Ellie’s stepmother skulked around in the dark, but then, it didn’t matter much. At least, not to Fatima and her goals. As long as Elvina didn’t interfere with the blossoming romance between Ellie and Shane, Fatima wouldn’t let Elvina’s prowling bother her.