Another Chance

by Michelle Beattie

  It wasn't that the bags were too heavy for her to carry. They weren't, though she did strain under the weight as she awkwardly carried one out to her wagon. But she knew, she just knew, that he would never let another woman carry them out by herself. Well, she thought, as she hefted another up into the wagon, if he expected to break her by a little hard work he had another thing coming.

  Breathing heavy, though trying to hide it, Jillian set the last bag at the base of her wagon. She took a few breaths, wiped her brow and grabbed the corners.

  "Oh, for Heaven's sake, let me help you with that!"

  Of the people that lingered on the boardwalk--including Mr. Garvey who, despite his claims of having work to do, stood in his doorway--the one person to offer help was a woman no taller than Jillian herself was. She snapped a fierce look Garvey's way before settling her gaze on Jillian.

  "I'm Silver. Let me help you with that."

  Before Jillian could respond to the name, the woman had grabbed the bag by two corners. Hurriedly, Jillian grasped the bottom and together they hefted it up. Silver slapped the dust off her hands.

  "Is that the last of it? Good," she answered at Jillian's nod. "How does a cold glass of lemonade sound?"

  Considering her throat was drier than sand, Jillian smiled.

  "Sounds wonderful."

  "That's my place over there." She gestured down the street to a large sign that read "Silver's Saloon". "Saloon's closed for now so we won't be bothered." Another cutting look went Garvey's way before it swept over those who lingered and watched.

  Jillian had never been in a saloon. She knew by the hush that spilled over the street that everyone was waiting to see if she'd go and she knew she'd be judged--yet again--by her decision. Still it wasn't a hard choice. This woman had helped her where the others hadn't. She'd offered kindness and hospitality. Saloon or not, it spoke of her character. Besides, if she went, she just may find out what Wade had said about her.

  Nodding, Jillian answered. "Lead the way."

  ***

  Jillian followed Silver into the back door of the saloon to a spacious kitchen that, surprisingly, looked as modern as some she'd seen in Philadelphia. Silver didn't stop. She pushed open another door and Jillian found herself, for the first time in her life, in the middle of a saloon.

  Sunlight poured through the large windows and splayed its glow over the polished wooden floors. Midnight-blue velvet curtains, pulled back with gold sashes, flanked the windows, allowing the natural light to tumble in.

  Turning in a slow circle, she took in the round tables with the chairs tucked in tight, the piano beneath the most gorgeous staircase she'd ever seen. She couldn't help herself. She stepped over and ran her hand over the smooth wood.

  "It took me months to get the handrail the way I wanted it."

  Jillian turned. Silver was about her size, though slightly shorter. Combs pulled her blonde hair away from her face revealing delicate features reminiscent of fairies. Loose gold curls coiled down her back. The dress she wore was modest, but Jillian recognized it as being the same high fashion women wore back home.

  "You did this?"

  Silver smiled proudly. "I didn't build it. When I bought this saloon it was nothing but a rundown watering hole. I fixed what I could, bought what I couldn't." Her smile was nearly as bright as the sunlight. "It's not rundown any longer."

  No, it certainly wasn't. Letting her hand slip off the balustrade, Jillian's gaze fell to the bar. The long counter was made of the same wood and judging from its luster, Jillian didn't doubt it would be smooth as the banister. Wine bottles, whiskey bottles and many more of varying shapes and sizes lined the glass shelf they rested on. Behind them a gilded mirror reflected her surprise.

  "It's pretty."

  "Thank you. That was my goal."

  Silver slipped behind the counter, poured the lemonade and passed Jillian a tall glass.

  "I imagine big cities like Philadelphia have the luxury of serving ice in its drinks but Cedar Springs doesn't have an ice house. However, I just made that before stepping outside and the well water is cold as any mountain spring."

  "It's fine, thank you." Jillian took a long swallow, couldn't help but look around again before she faced her hostess.

  Eyes the color of rich coffee laced with a touch of cream watched her closely. At first glance, Jillian imagined many people took in Silver's pretty face and little else. But Jillian had learned to examine the eyes and what she saw in Silver's was a woman who, quite likely, people underestimated. There was more to Silver than a pixie's face.

  A fact soon confirmed.

  "Jillian, most folks in this town will talk behind your back rather than to your face. As much as that fact annoys me, I can't seem to change it. There are a few, however, that prefer to tell it like is, so I'll be up front with you.

  "Being seen with me won't help you. I don't own a brothel. The only rooms upstairs are my own and no man has stepped foot in them. Still it's assumed I must be a whore, as why else would I own a saloon.

  "Much as I think we could come to be friends since we seem to be about the same age and we're both outsiders, I'll understand if you chose to walk away."

  Silver's words struck Jillian speechless. Here was a woman who'd made this saloon the stunning establishment that it was, who'd very likely, by stepping forward and helping a stranger, further segregated herself from a town that already shunned her.

  While Jillian's younger sister Katie had always been surrounded by friends, Jillian herself had never made any close friends. Sure, when she and Clint went out the women were polite and cordial, but they never called on her for tea or made any effort to get to know her better. Though she'd been busy working and learning at her father's side, she'd always secretly envied Katie's large circle of friends.

  Experience had taught her that not many people changed their minds once they were set. Jillian had seen firsthand today just how set many of those minds were. She was willing to be friendly and even put up with the rudeness, but she wouldn't bow to them and to what they thought she ought to be any more than she had back home.

  "You mustn't be a very good poker player."

  Silver's smile was confident. "Actually, I've been known to win my share as I can bluff when I need to." She shrugged. "There was no need to here."

  Jillian took another sip of the tart drink. "I appreciate your honesty."

  "Good, then I have a little more for you. I know what happened at the Parker ranch."

  Jillian hadn't been sure how she'd broach the subject of Wade and couldn't believe her good fortune that Silver mentioned him first, sparing her having to do so. She fussed with her glass a moment, then asked the question that had been foremost in her mind since leaving the mercantile.

  "Letty mentioned Wade was here and speaking of me. Did he, um, have anything good to say about me, or was it all bad?"

  Silver leaned against a hip against the bar. "As I'm sure you know, he wasn't happy to learn that the vet he'd helped hire was a woman."

  "Yes, he made that clear both the night of the surgery and again this morning when he was over."

  With brows raised, Silver studied Jillian over her glass of lemonade. "He paid you a visit?"

  "He paid me. For the surgery."

  "Oh. Well, at least he doesn't blame you for the animal dying. I feel I should tell you he did at first."

  "That's how word got round then, isn't it? Wade was here blaming me?"

  Silver placed a hand over Jillian's. "Once he'd talked it out, calmed down, he came to realize you weren't at fault."

  "By then, the damage was done, wasn't it? Others must have heard him blaming me."

  Jillian knew by Silver's pained expression that he had in fact been overheard. She took a deep breath. It was done; all she could do now was move forward and work at changing folks' opinions. Hopefully the fact that Wade now understood she'd done everything she could, would help sway them.

  "Was the man at the feed mill one of the men w
ho overheard Wade?"

  "Steven wasn't here last night, but some of his friends were. I'm sure they didn't waste any time running to Steven's house."

  "Steven?"

  "Garvey. He owns the feed mill and he's the mayor."

  Oh, no. The mayor hated her. Could this get any worse?

  "Truthfully, Jillian, he'd have been just as mean to you whether that cow died or not. Steven and Wade grew up together and apparently they've never gotten along. He'll make a ruckus about this because it was Wade's decision to hire you. That you're a woman will only give him more ammunition."

  "But Wade didn't even know I was a woman when he hired me."

  Silver shrugged. "That won't matter to Steven. As I said, he hates Wade. If he can make Wade look bad, he'll jump at the chance."

  Jillian shook her head. "I can't afford to lose Wade's support. He's the only one who's seen what I can do."

  "Once Wade gives his word, it's iron clad. If he said he'd support you, then he will. But Steven will be as dedicated in ensuring nobody else comes around to Wade's point of view."

  Had she really believed moving west would be simpler?

  "What are you going to do?" Silver asked.

  "What I told Letty I'd do. I know Wade doesn't have time to smooth feathers, and frankly it's not up to him. So I will. I'll visit the farms and ranches, make myself known. Make myself clear that they hired me for my qualifications."

  Silver lifted her glass. "To fighting for what you want, no matter what."

  Thinking of Steven at the feed mill and the man at the telegraph office and hoping things wouldn't come to "no matter what", Jillian tapped her glass to Silver's.

  SEVEN

  The impact of driving home the nails sent tremors up Wade's arm. The hammer handle was slick in his palm as he worked on the barn. He dropped the tool into the grass and wiped his hand on his pants. He squinted at the sky, praying for a cloud, anything to give him some relief from this heat. Moving to the shirt he'd abandoned hours ago, he lifted it off the ground and wiped his face.

  Hearing a rider coming in, Wade tensed. After their little prank earlier, Wade had sent James and Scott to check fences. They shouldn't be back unless they'd run into trouble. God, he hoped that wasn't the case. He couldn't afford to have lost cattle through broken fences or from rustlers, though there hadn't been any of those around these parts in some time.

  But it wasn't Scott or James; it was Jillian. His first reaction was a hard kick of his heart, followed by an equally swift rush of desire. He rolled his eyes upward. Why her, he wondered again. Annoyed with his reaction, he crumpled his shirt in his fists and flung it. Now if only his lust could be as easily discarded.

  Sighing, he faced the oncoming rider. What struck him first was her dishevelment. Considering the lack of breeze, even a little horseback ride wouldn't toss her hair like that. Half her braid had come undone and the other half barely hung on. She had a smear of dirt on her cheek. Her blouse was dirty and-

  The horse had barely come to a stop when Wade stepped forward.

  "Why is your blouse torn?" She had a large tear at her elbow and there was some blood. A crazy fury swept through him.

  "I lost a wheel on my buckboard." She shoved some hair behind her ear. "I know to check the wheels, make sure they aren't loose. But with everything that happened this morning…"

  A sweet flush rose up her neck, tinted her cheeks. Damn, he thought, it was one thing to fight desire. But fighting it knowing she felt the same? He wiped his upper lip. Shit.

  She slapped a hand over her skirt, sending out a poof of dust. "Anyhow if I'd checked, I wouldn't have taken a tumble."

  Knowing she hadn't been manhandled didn't ease his tension. Losing a wheel unexpectedly often threw a driver and spooked the horse. It wasn't uncommon to be knocked to the ground by the unexpected jar, then trampled by the wagon when a frightened horse took off. It was the reminder he needed to cool his blood. A woman like Jillian would constantly be in harm's way. And those who were foolish enough to care for her would always worry, would always be at risk of losing her.

  "Front or back?"

  "Back, luckily. I was knocked out, took a fall. Some of my supplies were tossed about, but it didn't hurt Hope or spook her as much as it could have."

  "You were lucky."

  "I know. And I can see you're busy..."

  Her eyes slid over him and for a day that was already sweltering, the temperature suddenly shot up another ten degrees. He felt a bead of sweat skip down his chest and roll over his belly. He nearly swallowed his tongue when her eyes tracked it to the waistband of his pants. Her throat rose and fell as she swallowed. Blood roared in his ears. He went thick and hard.

  Her face now more of a burn than a flush, she said, "I know I'm imposing, clearly you were hard at work, but I can't get the wheel on by myself and coming here was closer than going back to town."

  Hell, with the way his body was reacting, being alone with her wasn't a good idea. But neither could he refuse her help. It was the same dilemma he'd had the night he'd met her. He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn't.

  "All right," he sighed. "Just let me get a drink and a clean shirt." He turned and had to do some fancy footwork to keep from knocking his daughter to the ground.

  "Annabelle!"

  "Papa. Can I come?"

  "What?"

  "Can I go with you? It won't take me long to get Peanut ready and-"

  "Whoa, Button," Wade said, kneeling before his daughter and cupping her chin in his hand. "Did you finish your chores?"

  Her little shoulders drooped as she realized she'd lost her chance. "No."

  "Sorry, Button. But we had a bargain, remember? If you finish your chores like Grandma asked, after supper I'll take you to catch frogs."

  Blue eyes so like Amy's it never failed to break his heart, filled with tears. "But I wanna come."

  "Well, if you come with me now, then you'll have to finish your chores later and we won't have time for frog catching. So, you can choose. Come with me now, which is nothing but fixing a boring old wheel, or do as you were asked and we'll have all sorts of fun later."

  "And you'll let me keep one like you promised?"

  "Yes." Though he feared for the poor critter's life. He knew by her smile which choice she'd made.

  "All right, Papa. I'll go finish my chores right now!"

  "Wait!" he called before she bolted away. "What do you say to Miss Matthews?"

  "Hello, Miss Matthews," Annabelle said hurriedly before bolting away.

  Wade watched his daughter skip behind the barn. He heard the chickens cluck and squawk as she burst into the henhouse.

  Jillian giggled. The sound captivated him, as did the warmth that filled her eyes when she smiled.

  "She must keep you hopping."

  Wade shook his head. "You have no idea."

  ***

  Wade secured Whiskey to a nearby tree and grabbed the fallen wheel. It wasn't broken, which meant he'd be bringing back the spare he'd brought along.

  He passed her the wheel. "I'll push up the corner, you slip the wheel on."

  She nodded and within moments the wheel was in place and secured. Silently they worked to load the spilled supplies back into the buckboard. Despite her protest that she could do it, he re-harnessed Hope to the wagon. Wiping his hands on his thighs, he faced her.

  "That should do it."

  Her green eyes met his and she stepped forward, her hand outstretched. "Thank you. I couldn't do this alone and you saved me from having to go all the way back to town. I know I'm likely the last person you'd want to help and I appreciate that you did it anyway."

  Her hand was small and delicate within his. Soft. Silky soft. It conjured up all sorts of thoughts he shouldn't be having.

  But they bombarded him mercilessly. Flickers of images filled his mind. The way she'd looked at his naked chest. The way her cheeks had flushed. The way she'd made him feel as she looked at him. The way she was making him fee
l again.

  He pulled his hand away but it burned as though branded. Damn. He hadn't looked twice at any woman since Amy died. Certainly she was pretty, but there were a lot of pretty women around Cedar Springs, take Silver for example. Maybe it was the combination of Jillian's green eyes with that reddish-gold hair that he wanted to touch so badly his fingers twitched with need.

  He knew by looking he could span her waist with his hands, could fill those same hands with her breasts. Knowing it, wanting it, drove him to distraction. He had to physically drag all the reasons she was wrong for him back to the forefront of his mind, where reason, not lust, reigned.

  "Wade? Everything all right?"

  "Yeah, sorry." He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Heat must be getting to me."

  Despite knowing better, he helped her into the buckboard. His fingers sank into the soft flesh at her waist. How long had it been since he'd felt the give of a woman's flesh?

  Not the right woman, his mind repeated.

  Yet he stood there, aroused and overheated, until Jillian rode out of sight.

  ***

  For hours he stared at the ledgers, scratching out numbers and shuffling them around. All he had to show for it was a crick in his neck, a thumping headache and acid twisting in his belly like a tornado ripping across the plains. Nothing he did erased the fact that he remained deeply in debt and the dream of a horse ranch was as far away as ever.

  Goddammit.

  He slammed the books shut, pressed his fingers over his eyes. It would take a miracle to turn the ranch around. And miracles were in damn short supply around the Triple P. The only thing he could be thankful for was the deal he'd made with Liam, who owned a spread not far from Wade's ranch. In much the same predicament Wade was in, they'd agreed to trade bulls. It would breathe new blood into each of their herds without the expense of buying a new bull.

  There was also Chancy, the yearling colt he and Scott were working on. He was a smart horse, a fast learner and showed excellent potential to be a damn good cow pony. They'd thought to keep him, add him to their small herd of working horses, but maybe they should sell him instead. Since Scott had come to the Triple P he'd garnered a reputation as a solid horseman and more than a few men had come to him for advice for difficult horses. If they put Chancy up for sale, let folks know Scott did most of the training…