Love Finds You in Sundance, Wyoming

by Miralee Ferrell

  He caught himself, rubbed his chin, and stared. “What was that for?”

  She kept her hands up for a moment, then slowly dropped them to her hips and glared. “For laughing at me. I’m one of the best marksmen and trackers in this country, and I’ll not be slighted like that.”

  “Sorry, lady. I’m not buying it. You’ve earned whatever someone paid you. I’ll admit, you look like the real thing, and you throw a punch like one, but it’s time to come clean.”

  Nate stepped up and tapped Travis’s arm. “Uh…Boss?”

  Travis jerked his chin to the side. “Go drag the fella out here who came up with this idea. I’ve had enough.” He waved Nate toward the bunkhouse.

  Angel turned and stalked for her horse. Rarely did she allow her rifle to be far from her reach, but running into this man had rattled her. She removed it from its sheath and checked the load. Full. Good. She drew a couple of two-bit pieces and a silver dollar out of her saddlebag and walked back.

  She wouldn’t lower herself by talking to these men again until they understood. She withdrew her Colt revolver and placed the rifle against a nearby post. Without further warning, she threw the coin as high as her strength would allow, whipped up her revolver, and fired. The handgun boomed and the smell of gunpowder lingered in the air as the silver piece jerked with the impact of the bullet.

  “You.” She motioned toward Nate, then dug a silver dollar from her pocket. “Put this on edge, face out, on the butt of that branch.” She flipped the coin through the air and smirked when he caught it.

  “Huh?” The man stared at her like he didn’t have a brain.

  She waved at the tree that must be at least fifty feet away and pointed at the dead branch positioned just above his head. “Put it against the trunk on that branch.” She spoke slowly, turned, picked up her rifle, and walked the opposite direction.

  “Hey! What’re you doing?” Travis called after her, but she ignored him until she’d paced off another hundred feet. Far enough for a decent demonstration, but nothing like what she could do if she put her mind to it. Right now while shaking with anger was no time to push her limits.

  She swung around. Nate stood near the tree. The sun glinted off the face of the silver dollar where he’d placed it. Perfect. “Move away from the tree.”

  “What?”

  She raised her voice. “Move away from the tree. Unless you’d like a chunk of bark in your face.” She cocked the rifle and raised it to her shoulder.

  The man bolted, taking three leaps and landing not far from his boss.

  Silence settled over the clearing, but Angel saw motion from the corner of her eye. She lowered the rifle and swung to the side. Three long-legged, dusty cowboys and a short, scrawny one stood gawking near what must be the bunkhouse. One whistled low between his teeth, and a big grin split the mug of another. Angel turned her head and ignored them.

  “Hey, Boss. I’ll give you two-bits she makes it,” a voice called.

  “Shut up, Arizona, or I’ll make you the next target,” Nate growled.

  The man obeyed, but another cowboy took Arizona up on his bet.

  Angel grinned. Their boss was due for a surprise, and she hoped these men would rub his face in it when she finished.

  The door of the house banged open, and the woman who’d welcomed Angel stood on the porch, a boy by her side.

  Angel hefted the rifle again and placed it firmly against her shoulder. No time to think of the people watching—she had to make this shot. Her reputation, her virtue, and her very identity had been questioned. She focused on the small, gleaming disk at the base of the branch, drew in a deep breath, and exhaled. Her finger tightened on the trigger, and she squeezed it slowly. The report of the gun sounded loud in her ear, but her focus stayed trained on the dollar. A split second later, the coin leapt in the air and completed a dizzying dance before landing a full stride away from Travis Morgan’s boots.

  Travis rubbed his chin where the girl’s fist had landed as she walked toward him. How had he thought anything about her feminine? Ladylike she was not. More like a wildcat in trousers with a face pretty enough to make most men drop their guard. He stared at her as she lowered the .45-caliber Winchester. She was an excellent shot, he’d give her that. But Angelo de Luca? He shook his head and groaned. What in the world had he gotten himself into?

  A sudden whoop split the air, and the four cowboys who’d stood frozen near the bunkhouse door came to life. Charlie, Wren, Arizona, and Bud all raced one another, pushing and shoving to reach the girl first. Smokey, their sixty-year-old grub slinger, ambled behind, a wide grin creasing his sun-bronzed face.

  “Man, did you see that shootin’?” Arizona’s voice rose above the rest as the blond cowpoke beat the rest of the men to where the girl stood.

  Wren caught up and elbowed him out of the way. The man might be built like a banty rooster, but he was wiry and tough when riled. “Outta the way, men. I wanna shake the hand of the woman who made that shot,” he crowed.

  Charlie and Bud jostled for a spot beside the bemused girl, who didn’t seem able to take in the sudden change in the atmosphere. Charlie leaned close and stared at the rifle. “That one of them new Winchester repeaters I been hearin’ about? Saw an advertisement over to the store, but ain’t seen one of ‘em in the flesh.” He extended a hand. “Can I hold it?”

  The girl came alive. She jerked the rifle close and took a step back. “No one handles my guns.” She turned toward Travis and raised her brows, the rifle cradled in her arms. “Well?”

  He crossed the open space with Nate stalking behind. “Well, what? That was great shooting.” The words came out grudging and harsh—not the way he’d typically address a woman—but the painful memory of that punch left him on edge. Besides, the girl’s claim rankled. Range gossip couldn’t have gotten the facts so off kilter, neglecting to mention that Angelo de Luca was a woman.

  “Do you believe me? I’m the person you hired.” Her expression grew cold. She slipped her hand into her breast pocket and removed a folded piece of paper. “See for yourself.”

  He reluctantly took the paper. The telegram he’d sent lay exposed on his palm. “How? Why?” He scratched his head.

  Nate stepped up and clapped him on the back. “Hey, Boss. Looks like you’ve hired a crack shot. If she can ride and track like she shoots, I’d say you’ve got a winner.” A beaming grin lit the man’s face. He swung toward the girl and his smile faded. “I think what the boss is trying to ask is how do you happen to be a girl, instead of the man we expected.”

  Angel stared at him like he’d asked something incredibly stupid, then a smile peeked out. “How do I happen to be a girl? I reckon I was born one.”

  Travis felt a surge of annoyance. He’d wanted to hire a man and got a young woman. “That’s not what Nate meant.” He folded his arms over his chest and tried not to glare. The cowhands hovered in the background, and by their moonstruck expressions this girl had more than captivated their interest. He swung around. “Find something useful to do.”

  Arizona’s lips drooped, and he kicked a pebble. “Aw, Boss. We’d like to get better acquainted with the lady.”

  “Now.” Travis pointed at the barn and the men scurried away, but more than one cast a glance over his shoulder.

  Smokey stepped forward. “Guess I’ll rustle up some grub.” He tugged at the brim of his hat, smiled at the girl, and moseyed back toward the house.

  Nate stood beside him, still staring at the rifle.

  Travis held up the telegram. “I’d appreciate an explanation.”

  The girl sobered. “Fine. I’ve worked for the past three years under my mother’s maiden name, de Luca. I’m using my own name now. Ramirez.”

  “Why not use your own name to begin with? And why let people think you were a man?”

  She bent an intent look on him. “Would you have hired a woman?”

  He felt like he’d been punched again and wasn’t sure how to answer. He wouldn’t have asked
a woman to take a man’s job and probably wouldn’t hire her even now. But her expression silenced him.

  She nodded. “That’s what I thought. No one else would either. I don’t have any formal schooling, so I can’t teach. I’ve never learned to sew, cook, or any of the things women do.” She stared at him coolly. “So what kind of job would that leave me?”

  Heat rose in his cheeks. Only one occupation remained. “I apologize for my remarks. They were—inappropriate.”

  She rested the rifle butt on the ground and gripped the muzzle. “They were. But you wouldn’t have hired me if you hadn’t heard about my ability to track, ride, and shoot. I hope you’re not going back on your offer.”

  He shook his head, regret coursing through him, but it couldn’t be helped. “I’m afraid I am, Miss Ramirez. I don’t intend to hire a woman to do a man’s job, no matter how good a shot you are.”

  “Why not? I’ve done it for three years.”

  Nate shifted at Travis’s side. “Boss?”

  Travis gave a slight shake of his head. “Just a minute, Nate.” He turned back to the girl. “You did it under false pretenses.”

  Nate stepped forward. “Boss, give me a minute.”

  Travis pushed down his irritation. His foreman had proven his wisdom over the past few years, and he’d do well to listen. “All right. What?”

  “The ranch is getting overrun with wolves, and Arizona spotted a mountain lion yesterday. We don’t got a lot of choice at the moment.”

  “You’re suggesting we hire this woman?”

  Angel stiffened. “My name is Angel Ramirez, not ’this woman.’”

  Travis gave a slow nod. “My apologies, ma’am.”

  Nate tipped his head to the side. “I do. Leastwise, for now. If she can track ‘em, the boys can clean ‘em out. Plus, we got some rank horses needing work.”

  “I don’t like it. She might come recommended, but she’s still a woman.”

  Angel took a step toward him. “And that’s a problem—why?”

  Travis whipped off his hat and slapped it against his leg. “You saw how the men reacted. It’s different with Libby, her being my sister and newly widowed and all. You’ll create all sorts of havoc among my cowboys. Besides, you can’t sleep in the bunkhouse.”

  Angel shrugged. “I stay clear of the men. The job is all I care about. And I never stay in a bunkhouse. I live on the range.”

  “That may have worked before, but not now. I can’t have the men sneaking out at night trying to find your camp so they can spark you.”

  She bristled. “No one gets close to my camp, day or night, without me knowing it. And I don’t flirt with men.”

  Travis shook his head. “I won’t have you sleeping out unless you’re at least a half day’s ride from the ranch. If I let you stay on, you’ll have to take a room in the house.”

  Angel started to protest, but Travis stopped her. “That’s my condition. My sister will act as chaperone when I’m at home. I’ll give you the job until I find someone else, but you stay at the house. Agreed?”

  Angel bit her lip. Her face reflected her struggle, and sympathy tugged at his heart, but he didn’t relent. It was bad enough agreeing to let her stay on, but he’d be hog-tied if he’d allow her to sleep on the range with his men within easy riding distance.

  “All right. But I don’t cook or clean, and I don’t aim to learn. I track critters and break horses. Period. You and your sister had best understand, or I’ll move on.”

  Travis closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and slowly nodded. “Understood. Now I just have to break the news to Libby.”

  Angel glared at Travis Morgan. The nerve of the man. If she’d be such a burden on his sister, why insist she live in the house? If she had another job lined up, she’d hit the saddle. But she didn’t. A feeling of helplessness flooded Angel. She detested not having any options. “Don’t worry about it.” Angel made a hasty decision and met Travis’s gaze. “I’ll find something else. No need to upset your sister by asking a stranger to share her home.”

  Travis studied her. “That’s not necessary. This is my home, and Libby will welcome anyone I choose to invite. Besides, it’s not for long.”

  Angel’s knuckles tingled. She was glad she’d punched him. He still didn’t believe she could do the job. “Fine. I’m not happy about staying here, either. But I’ll earn my keep. I’ll not give you reason to regret you hired me, even if the job only lasts a few days.”

  “Could you“—he hesitated and glanced toward the ranch house— “wait here a few minutes?”

  She shrugged. “I’m in no hurry.”

  He strode across the dirt clearing and didn’t look back. He opened the front door of the house and closed it carefully behind him. Libby had seemed nice enough, but Angel wouldn’t lay any bets on the woman welcoming her—even if the house belonged to her brother. The few women at the outlaw stronghold were jealous of the little they owned and guarded it closely. Some had shown her kindness when she was young but treated her differently when she showed signs of impending womanhood. No. She couldn’t see this sister of Travis Morgan welcoming a strange woman into her domain, regardless of whose name appeared on the deed.

  Chapter Five

  A boot tramped on the packed ground behind her. She slipped her fingers around the butt of her gun and waited. No one spoke, but she sensed the person shifting his weight and edging closer. She whipped the revolver out of her holster and spun around, holding the weapon waist high. “What do you want?”

  A wide-eyed boy gaped at her, and his hands slowly rose to chest height. “Please don’t shoot, lady. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  Angel stared for a moment, then holstered her gun. “It isn’t a good idea to sneak up on a person. Who are you?”

  The color slowly returned to the boy’s face. “James. My uncle Travis owns this ranch.” He straightened his shoulders. “I’ve never seen a woman in men’s clothes before.”

  “Well, now you have. Didn’t your mama teach you it’s not polite to stare? You should close your mouth before something flies into it.” The way the boy looked at her rankled. Were all the men on this ranch either rude or ignorant?

  “Why are you dressed that way?” He ran his tongue over his lips. “Would you really have shot me?”

  She tipped her head to the side. “I’ve never killed a little kid yet, and I don’t aim to start now.”

  James’s head jerked up. “I’m not a kid. I’m thirteen years old— almost a grown man. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I track varmints and work horses. I can’t very well do that in a dress, now can I?” She allowed a small smile to tilt up the corner of her lips.

  “What kind of varmints? Wolves?” An eager light sprang to his eyes.

  “Yes. Wolves, coyotes, cougars, bear—depending on what’s killing the stock. I understand a couple of wolf packs are working this area.”

  “I shot at one a week ago. Uncle Travis lent me his rifle.” The excited expression faded. “But I missed.”

  Angel glanced toward the door. Still no sign of anyone stirring. She could only imagine the conversation between Travis and his sister. She turned back to the boy. “We all miss sometimes. It takes practice to shoot well. I didn’t hit the first target I shot at, either.” No sense in telling him it was a cougar that had pulled down a colt the band acquired in the dead of the night.

  “Would you teach me to shoot?” James took a step forward and eyed her gun.

  Angel raised both hands and shook her head. “Not my job, boy. That’s up to your uncle. I was hired to track varmints and break horses, not mollycoddle youngsters.” His face fell, and Angel immediately regretted her words. She’d gotten along with most of the children raised in the band, so why be ornery with this one? “Of course, if I ever have time…”

  James’s mouth broke into a wide smile. “Golly, thanks! Are you sleeping in the bunkhouse?”

  Angel stifled a chuckle. “No. That wouldn�
��t be—appropriate. I’ll be staying in a spare room in your uncle’s house. And I don’t know for how long. Until he finds someone else to do my job, I guess.”

  The hair on Angel’s arms prickled. She whirled around just as someone cleared his throat. She stared into the eager faces of two of the cowboys who’d watched her earlier.

  Libby stood with her arms folded. “That—girl—is going to live where?”

  Travis sighed. “I can’t let her stay in the bunkhouse with the men and it’s not safe for her to sleep out on the range. That leaves one option—my house.”

  She sank onto the sofa in the large living area and drew a pillow onto her lap. “But she’s been sleeping on the range for the past three years. What does it matter if she continues?” Her fingers tightened around the embroidered fabric, and she forced them to relax.

  “Because she was masquerading as a man, but now everyone knows she’s a woman. It wouldn’t be safe for her to sleep outside.”

  “You don’t trust your own men?”

  A muscle in Travis’s jaw clenched. “Yes. But she’s an attractive woman—or would be if she dressed properly—and she might be a temptation for some of the men to—visit.” He walked over to his favorite stuffed chair and sat. “It’s not like she’ll be here long, Libby. I don’t see why it needs to be a problem.”

  She bit her lip. Sometimes her brother could be so thick-headed. “So you’ve decided to hire her?”

  “For the time being—until someone qualified turns up.”

  “I find it hard to believe that a woman can do an adequate job.” She wrinkled her nose. “Tracking and killing predators out on the range. It’s such a horrible occupation, and so unladylike.”

  “I’m not hiring her to kill the varmints, Lib, just spot them. My cowboys will take care of cleaning them out, but I can’t spare the men to track every wolf, bear, and cat threatening my herd.”

  A thought propelled her forward on her seat. “I have an idea, Travis.” Real hope surged through her heart for the first time since she’d arrived at this lonely wasteland.