by James, Sandy
He chuckled at her. “Why, you don’t weigh more than a gnat.” Blue eyes smiled at her. “I promise to keep you safe.”
Susan didn’t know why, but she believed him. Her friends always said she was a good judge of character, and she somehow knew Sean Connery would never lie to her. With a resigned sigh, she let him take her hand and tried to reach her foot up to the high stirrup. Grace was certainly not the order of the day, and she wondered if she looked as awkward as she felt swinging up behind him in the saddle. The very cozy and horribly slippery saddle. God, if she was in front of him, it would be downright indecent.
The horse took a step forward. Susan let out a frightened squeak and wrapped her arms around Daniel’s waist.
“Hang on tight.” He kicked the horse into a trot.
The gait was so rough that Susan was sure her teeth would crack from the vibration. Peering to her side, she gauged exactly how far she would eventually fall. The more she looked, the farther she leaned. When the horse changed from a trot to a canter, she almost tumbled over.
Daniel reached behind to put a restraining hand on her thigh. “Hanging on back there, Miss Hollis? I’d hate to leave you behind.”
“Trying to.”
“Don’t worry, darlin’, I won’t let you fall.” His voice sounded so warm and full of concern, it took away her fear.
Pressing her cheek against his broad back, she squeezed a little tighter against him. The guy was a mountain of muscle, and she found comfort in his strength. He really wasn’t going to let her fall.
She had found her first friend.
* * * *
It had been easy for James to settle into the Golden Nugget. The ambiance of the place had him absolutely bewitched.
The bar itself was enormous and occupied most of one entire wall. Beautifully made from dark wood, it sported carved wooden spindles in the middle and on both ends. Running the length of the structure was a long brass rail at a height convenient for a man to rest a foot as he stood waiting to be served. Brass spittoons waited on the floor for those inclined to chew tobacco. Since the chewers missed more often than not, and since more beer got spilled than consumed, the wooden floor was covered in an absorbent layer of sawdust. An enormous mirror hung behind the bar and was draped in red cloth bordered with gold tassels. A large wooden clock sat mounted high above the mirror.
This place could have been the stereotypical saloon featured in any western. James had immediately felt at home, like he belonged in this new place with its odor of sawdust, spilled beer, and cigar smoke.
With a contented sigh, he grabbed a couple of whiskey bottles and stooped to put them on the bar’s bottom shelf.
“Who are you?”
Startled by the feminine voice, James bumped his head on the underside of the bar. Rubbing the sore spot, he eased up to full height. “I’m James…um, I mean Big Jim Williams. Who are you?”
A coy smile and some exaggerated bats of her eyelashes were his answer. He had no idea who the girl was, but he knew what she was. A shameless flirt. And probably not any older than his own daughter. “Big Jim, huh? Did Daddy give you that name? Or did some woman pin it on you?”
“Daddy? Are you Li’l Jim’s daughter?”
She nodded, making her long ringlets of blonde curls float around her shoulders.
“Let me guess. Your father wouldn’t like you to be in the saloon. Would he?”
With an exaggerated pout of her lips, she replied, “He never lets me have any fun. I’m seventeen. I’m all grown up.”
Seventeen? Younger than Lynne. He quickly decided he would treat her like any other teenage girl. Throwing her a paternal frown, he said, “You know you shouldn’t be out here. Not in the bar. What’s your name, young lady?”
“Caroline.” She twisted a long curl around her finger and gave him another coy smile that served like a dunk in ice water.
James had to admit his middle-aged ego felt flattered that such a pretty girl wanted to flirt with him, but he hadn’t ever been attracted to seventeen-year-olds, even when he’d been seventeen. He liked his women older and smarter. With short brown hair, big brown eyes, and a sassy sense of humor.
Brushing aside a lingering hurt that Susan hadn’t even come looking for him, James decided to nip what could potentially be a major problem in the proverbial bud. “Go on, Caroline. Get out of the bar.” He inclined his head toward the big staircase. “I imagine your room’s up those stairs. Go on.”
Caroline stomped her foot like the frustrated child she was. “You’re as bad as Daddy.” With a swish of her satin skirts, she whirled around and went to the staircase. On the landing, she turned to face James again. “I’m all grown up. I am. You’ll see.” Then she disappeared up the stairs.
“Sure you are.” James was about to stoop back down to finish stocking the bottom shelf when Li’l Jim came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of freshly washed mugs. He set them on the bar.
James grabbed a bar towel and helped his boss dry the glasses. “Just met your daughter.”
Li’l Jim threw a stern frown at James. “Caroline was down here? Well, don’t you go gettin’ no notions about her.”
Not pointing out the overreaction, James shook his head. “No notions at all. Hell, I’ve got jeans older than her.”
Li’l Jim’s gaze settled on James’s face, something James had seen Li’l Jim do with almost everyone he talked to. The man seemed to like to judge a person’s honesty by his expression. He must have decided James was being sincere. With a curt nod, Li’l Jim went back to drying the glasses. “That girl’s trouble lookin’ for a place to land. Has been since the day she was born. Should never have let her come back from St. Louis.”
James placed the glass he’d dried on the bar and picked up another damp one. “St. Louis? What was she doing in St. Louis?”
“Sent her to a girls’ school. Her mama passed away a few winters back. Caroline went a bit…wild. I didn’t have no sisters, so I don’t rightly know how to raise a little girl. With her mama gone, Caroline needed to be ’round womenfolk.”
“When did she come back?”
“Last spring. I’m not sure that fancy school settled her down none. She’s been a bit…free with her attentions.” Li’l Jim slammed the mug he’d dried down on the bar hard enough James was surprised it didn’t break. “Daniel’s boy Hank’s been the worst of the lot. Hanging ’round. Sniffing after her like some stallion after a mare in season.” He let out a disgusted snort. “No account cowboy. Can’t give Caroline all she needs.” He wagged his towel at James. “Don’t you go gettin’ no designs on her, neither.”
Ah, so Caroline was spoiled, and spoiled kids had a habit of finding ways to get what they wanted. James hoped her flirting was just that, nothing but innocent flirting. He liked his job, and he sure didn’t want his boss thinking he had any interest in his underage and out of control daughter.
“Nothing to worry about, Li’l Jim. She’s a pretty girl,” he said, worried that Li’l Jim was still giving him a wary stare, “but she’s way too young for me.”
“Good. Good.” Li’l Jim punctuated each word with a decisive nod before he picked up the empty tray and headed back toward the kitchen.
As the customers started to trickle inside the Golden Nugget, James couldn’t help but search the faces for Susan’s familiar smile. But she never came to find him.
Where in the hell was she?
Chapter 8
Abigail Miller could have been a romance novel heroine. Young. Thin enough she’d probably wear a size two. Dark hair plaited into one long braid that brushed her waist. A heart-shaped face. Perky boobs.
Susan glanced down at her own chest and wondered what devastating effect gravity was inflicting on her own breasts, especially without proper underwire support. With a resigned sigh, she looked back up and caught Abigail’s smile. Straight, white teeth.
Figures.
Daniel slid off his horse and reached up for Susan. Terrified of falling, she l
et him put his hands around her waist and lift her to the ground. When he let her go, her knees buckled. Strong hands immediately grabbed her again to hold her steady. A knowing smile spread over his face. “Long time since you’ve ridden, Miss Hollis?”
About a hundred years.
“Yeah. A really long time.” After a few moments of standing on trembling legs and wondering why yoga hadn’t strengthened them as much as she’d always thought, she shyly brushed his hands away. It seemed so odd to have any man but James touching her. A small flicker of warmth raced through her.
Would feeling something for Daniel betray James? Had all those years of marriage left her unable to enjoy another man’s caress? Daniel smelled good, masculine—like the outdoors. He was handsome in an earthy sort of way, and he acted like an absolute gentleman.
She suddenly realized that her future—or her past—would probably be very lonely now that James Williams was no longer a part of her life. Was she meant to be alone now?
“Stronger now?” Daniel asked.
Susan nodded, refusing to wallow in self-pity. Daniel took her hand and led her to his daughter. “Abigail, I’d like you to meet Susie Hollis. Miss Hollis, this is my daughter Abigail. Spitting image of her mama.”
The young woman’s smile seemed warm and friendly. She obviously saw nothing odd about her father hauling home some strange woman like a cat drags a dead mouse to its owner’s doorstep. “Nice to meet you, Miss Miller.”
“Oh, please, call me Abigail.”
“Susan. Or…or Susie.”
Abigail gave her another warm smile. “Daddy, why don’t you take Susan inside? I’ll call the boys to breakfast.” Daniel headed toward the back porch steps as Susan followed. Abigail went over to a large metal triangle, picked up the bar dangling by its side, and started pounding out a rhythm. After a few moments, Abigail followed them inside.
Daniel doffed his hat and hung it on some wooden pegs just inside the door. Then he led Susan to the table and pulled back one of the benches.
Just as she was sitting down, two very tall and very muscular young men—one of whom she recognized from when she and James had first arrived—tried to come through the kitchen door at the same time. Because it wasn’t wide enough, their shoulders lodged together and they found themselves stuck like a log jam trying to move down too narrow a river. Pushing and grunting for a few moments, both finally spilled through the door, nearly tripping into the table. Before they could stumble to the bench, Abigail took a step in front of them, threw them a chastising frown, and pointed at the wooden pegs.
Both of the young men—who were surely no older than the seniors in her high school history classes—blushed, took off their hats, and hung them on pegs. Then, surprisingly, they both unbuckled their side arms and hung them up as well. Only then did Abigail allow them to sit at her table.
Food was piled high on the rough-hewn table. Fried eggs. Thick slices of steak. Enormous biscuits. A jar of honey and another that looked like homemade strawberry jam. What appeared to be real butter. Susan’s mouth began to water.
Daniel folded his hands and bowed his head. Abigail and the boys followed suit. Susan did as well, refreshed by the simple faith of this family. Prayer preceded food, and everyone here accepted that. She could hardly recall the last time her family had sat together at a table to share a meal, let alone prayed. Daniel offered a quick blessing and when he said, “Amen,” a feeding frenzy commenced.
Watching transfixed as the two cowboys ate like they’d been starving, Susan finally grabbed a biscuit before they all vanished.
Daniel glanced over at the boys, smiled, and shook his head. “They work up a mighty big appetite, and they surely eat their share.”
Abigail picked up the plate of fried eggs, slid two onto her own plate, and then handed the plate to Susan. “Please take the last eggs.” She smiled at her father. “More than their share, Daddy. And their mouths are too full for them to even introduce themselves.” She nodded at the one with the dark brown hair. “That’s Hank.”
He glanced up, his cheeks so full of food he looked like some chipmunk gathering nuts for the winter, and nodded. He acted like he didn’t even remember seeing her and James when the rock had plopped them down in the middle of the Circle M. Hank went right back to eating.
“And that’s Cain,” Abigail added, inclining her head toward the blond. Cain didn’t even stop chewing, didn’t even slow down or glance up to acknowledge Susan’s presence.
These young men weren’t Daniel’s sons. Abigail hadn’t introduced them as her brothers, and they sure didn’t look like either of the Millers. Susan finally decided they were probably hired hands, but with the closeness of people in this era, they’d probably grown very dear to Daniel and Abigail. Plus, they were eating at the family table.
After breakfast and despite Abigail’s protests, Susan helped with the cleanup while the cowboys grabbed their guns and hats and left through the back door. Daniel excused himself and followed them outside.
Gathering the empty plates and carrying them to the sink, Abigail rolled up her sleeves and took over the chore of washing. “What brings you to River Bend, Susan?”
A meddling old man and a big, stupid rock. “Just traveling through. Trying to get back home.”
“You have family ’round here?”
Susan shook her head as she grabbed a drying cloth and took a clean, dripping dish from Abigail.
“Where’s home?”
“Chicago.”
“And you’re in River Bend? Not taking a direct route to get back there, are you?” A dimple creased Abigail’s left cheek. Even her smiles were beautiful.
Susan shrugged and took another clean dish from Abigail’s wet hands. There simply weren’t too many honest answers she could give her hostess about her past. Thankfully, Abigail changed the subject.
“It’s sure nice to have another woman around. Since Mama’s gone, the only females ’round here are me, Dolly, the mares, and the milk cows. Too many menfolk for my taste.”
“Dolly?”
“Our housekeeper. She’s in Bozeman right now. Her youngest daughter’s having a baby soon, and Dolly wanted to be there to help take care of the other children. It’s been mighty lonely since she left. Did Daddy tell you Mama died a few years back?”
Susan nodded, not entirely sure she wanted to hear too much about Daniel’s late wife. Once again, Abigail had mercy on her and quit the topic, chatting instead about the town and its citizens. Her soft chatter made Susan feel comfortable and accepted. Abigail’s stories about the town marshal showed she disliked him every bit as much as Susan. Thanks to the diversion of pleasant conversation, the two women had the kitchen clean in no time.
“Would you like to see the house?” Abigail asked.
“Please,” Susan replied with a quick nod. “I’ve never seen a real ranch house. Most are tourist traps…um…I mean I’ve never been out West before.” She followed Abigail into the huge, center room of the enormous house.
Susan let her gaze wander. The great room was rustic and captivating. A large stone fireplace took up most of the far wall. Heavy wooden beams supported the ceiling. A large sofa, flanked by two brown chairs, sat in front of the fireplace. The ranch house looked like some expensive, trendy ski lodge minus the luxury of indoor plumbing. The only thing missing was people dressed in down vests, toting skis.
“Daddy and Mama built this place board by board. Before that, they had a two-room cabin.” Abigail’s prideful smile lit her face.
“It’s so beautiful. I can’t imagine anyone around here having a nicer place.”
“Daddy’s got the Midas touch, especially where cattle and horses are concerned.”
Abigail led Susan into the study just off the larger room. “This is Daddy’s library.” A desk covered in assorted papers and books dominated the room whose walls were nothing more than shelf after shelf of beautiful books that she would consider old. They weren’t old in this era.
Daniel clearly liked to read. An admirable trait. Susan was so enamored of the leather-bound novels, she wandered the room, reading titles and wishing she had all the time in the world. She’d breathe in the welcoming, library-esque smell, pull each book down, and reverently read it in its first edition form.
The upstairs had four bedrooms but no bath. Susan tried to remember when faucets made their appearance, but this date was obviously a bit early for a shower or even a tub. Heavens, how she missed the twenty-first century. Surviving without a bathroom was going to be a trial.
The bedrooms all looked warm and inviting. Hand-stitched, patchwork quilts on every bed. Big brass headboards. Ceramic pitchers and bowls on small stands. Warm sunshine streaming in from every window. She envied the Millers and their beautiful home, even if they didn’t have a shower. For this time and place, the Circle M ranch house was truly a masterpiece.
Daniel came striding into the great room, hat in hand, when the women came back down the stairs. “Susie,” he said with a nod. “Abigail been giving you the grand tour?”
Susan replied in kind. “You have a beautiful home. Abigail said you built it yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am. Had some help from the boys and the missus. Abigail, too. Took us quite a few years, but now we’ve got a comfortable home.”
The man was humble. Another admirable quality. The more she learned about him, the more she realized Daniel Miller was truly a good man. She sure didn’t want to take unfair advantage of his kindness and overstay her welcome. He obviously had a lot of responsibility and didn’t need to waste his precious time on some lost misfit from a different world.
“Thank you so much for breakfast, Mr. Miller. I shouldn’t take up any more of your time. You probably need to get back to work, and I’m sure Hank and Cain are looking for you.” It wasn’t as if she had anywhere else to go, but she wasn’t going to abuse Daniel and Abigail’s hospitality. She’d find some way back to River Bend, probably walking the entire way. Then she’d look for James.
A shiver of hurt ran through her that James hadn’t come searching for her. How easy had it been for him to walk away?
