“Hey, Alex!” Charlie Danson waved a big-boned hand that protruded from a rumpled shirtsleeve. “Did you have a nice ride?” He sat sprawled across a large wooden bench in the shade of the veranda, looking every bit the unkempt miner’s son she remembered from his preceding visits.
Alex sighed. Just an hour ago she’d wrestled with her not wanting to change, but as she looked from untidy Charlie to prim and proper Walter, she wished for a teensy bit of change, just this once. These two young men had been trying to court her for months, and each of their visits was a virtual replay of the one before.
Charlie’s aversion to riding a horse appeared to have driven him on foot from his father’s nearby claim. Mud caked his rough work boots, and dried sweat had cut little rivulets through the dirt on his face. Walter’s fastidious appearance stood in sharp contrast, his neat black suit brushed and his hat shining.
Walter peered over the top of his eyeglasses at her clothing and frowned. “Aren’t you going to change, Alexia?”
“No.” She stepped up onto the porch and sank into a nearby chair. “I’ve been checking the foals in the upper pasture and I’ll be heading back out after you leave, so I see no reason to change.”
She glanced at his crestfallen face and felt a twinge of guilt for her harsh tone. Patting his hand, she added, “I’ll get you both more tea.” She reached for their mugs and headed into the house, leaving two very quiet young men on the porch.
A few moments later she slipped back onto the long porch, her tray laden with refilled cups and a heaping plate of cookies. She reached the corner and started to turn when a loud whisper slowed her steps.
“Why don’t you head home, Charlie? You know Alexia’s always been interested in me, not a big overgrown kid like you.” Walter’s severe words brought Alex to a halt.
“Aw, shucks. That ain’t true, and you—you—you know it.” Charlie’s slow, rather pained speech caused Alex to wince. “She’s my friend, too. I’ve knowed her longer than you, and my pa runs a mine. He don’t just work at the mercantile.”
“My father doesn’t work at the store, he owns it,” hissed Walter. “It’s not doing you any good hanging around here. I mean to court Alexia proper. You don’t know anything about what ladies want—all you understand is dirt and rocks.”
Alex rolled her eyes and groaned. Charlie and Walter had been rivals since grammar school, but this was ridiculous. The last thing she wanted was for either of them to court her, and the sooner they realized it, the better.
She stepped around the corner of the covered porch and crossed the last few yards in long strides. “Here you go! More cookies and tea.” A swift glance at Charlie’s red face and Walter’s sullen countenance gave her resolve. “I’m sorry to leave you boys, but Dad’s passing left a lot on my shoulders. Not that I can’t handle it, of course,” she added as a look of sharp triumph crossed Walter’s face. “It leaves me less time to socialize, and I really must get back to my chores.”
Both young men started to protest and rise, but she waved them back. “Never mind getting up. Sit and finish your cookies. I’m sure you haven’t chatted with each other for some time. Feel free to ask Martha for anything you need.” She stepped off the porch and headed for the barn, trying to hide a grin.
“But…wait!” Walter sprang to his feet and swung to the edge of the porch. “I wanted to take you for a drive in my buggy. It’s going to be a fine evening. I’m sure your ranch hands can take care of the chores, Alexia.”
“I’m sure they can, too, but what kind of example would that be, asking them to do my work?” She shook her head, keeping a straight and solemn face. “No, sir. That’s not what they’re used to, and I don’t intend to change. Would you give Charlie a ride home? I’m sure he’d appreciate the offer.” She didn’t try to hide her grin this time, as her pant-clad legs carried her the last few strides to the barn.
Justin nodded at a few friendly faces on his way from the boardinghouse to the church, but he didn’t slow to chat. He had to make a decision about Toby.
A freight wagon loaded with bulging burlap bags pulled to a stop in front of the general store, and the driver jumped down to tie up his team. Justin veered around the end of the wagon and stepped over a wide stretch of mud.
The loud bark of a dog preceded the screams of a young boy, as a brown-speckled hound dashed down the middle of the road with a ragged youngster on its heels. “Hey, you! That’s my hat! Bring it back.” The boy’s tousled curls shone in the sun and his shirttail whipped in the breeze as he disappeared around a corner close on the hound’s heels.
Justin chuckled and shook his head, remembering his own youthful antics. He’d bet the youngster wouldn’t give up until he’d caught the hound and then all would be forgiven. Boys and dogs seemed to have an understanding, and their upsets often turned to play.
He crossed an open grassy area and slowed in front of the church, suddenly remembering the humiliation he’d suffered at the hands of the local blacksmith not many days ago. The big brute had better not try anything today. Tackling him when his back was turned might have worked once, but that wouldn’t happen again.
The church looked like a recent addition—the cedar shakes on the roof hadn’t grayed from the sun, and the paint on the siding hadn’t peeled. Clean windows sparkled in the morning light, and caring hands had planted flowering bushes near the front door. A bell high up in the steeple hung silent, but it held an air of expectant waiting.
He stopped near the double front doors and reached for the handle when it suddenly swung open and a man pushed his way through. Justin drew back, wondering at the determined expression on the man’s face. Parson Moser followed as far as the open door and stood without speaking. He nodded at Justin.
The man jerked at the reins tied to the rail and loosened his horse. “Pastor, I’d appreciate your help—a woman’s going to have a rough time making a success of that ranch.” The dark-haired man shoved a broad-brimmed hat onto his head. “Never mind; I’ll ride out and tell her myself.” He raised a hand to the parson, ignoring the man standing nearby, then swung up into the saddle. A jerk pulled the horse around, causing him to stamp and snort. The rider touched the gelding with his spurs and cantered toward the hills.
“Mr. Phillips, I’m sorry for the poor welcome. Won’t you come in?” Parson Moser stepped toward Justin, his hand outstretched.
Justin shook the man’s hand and nodded. “Don’t mind if I do. Something’s weighing on my mind.” He stepped ahead of the parson into the cool darkness of the small sanctuary. “And I’d be pleased if you’d call me Justin.”
“Certainly.” The parson motioned Justin toward the back of the church and ushered him into the tiny room that served as an office.
The area appeared neat, and the aroma of fresh leather filled the air. Justin sniffed appreciatively and glanced around, drawing a chuckle from the older man. “Even preachers have to care for their gear. Never know when you’re going to get called out to a ranch or a mine. I just oiled my bridle.” He nodded to the simple leather headstall hanging on the back of a nearby chair.
“You don’t use a buggy?” Justin settled into the chair across from the small wood desk. “I’d have thought—”
“That it’s more fitting for a man of my age and station?” Parson Moser smiled. “I do if the weather’s bad. But I grew up on horseback. My father owned a ranch, and I rode herd before becoming a preacher. I guess straddling a horse is still in my blood.”
Justin relaxed, liking this man even more. “I’m hoping for your help.”
The parson leaned forward, clasping his hands on the worn desk. “Name it.”
“It’s about my son.” He drew a deep breath. “I need to find work and I can’t care for Toby at the same time.”
“I see.” Parson Moser nodded and met Justin’s gaze. “What are you thinking?”
“Are there any families in your church who’d consider taking in a little boy?” He winced as the words left his mouth
. “I don’t mean permanent, just for a short time till I can get a job and figure out a way to care for him at the same time….” His words trailed off and he bowed his head, certain he’d see censure in the preacher’s eyes.
Parson Moser cleared his throat. “Hmm. That may not be the only option, if you love the boy and want to keep him.”
Justin’s head jerked up and he almost glared. “Of course I love him. I didn’t have much say in his raising, but I’d do anything to keep him. If there’s another option, let’s hear it.”
A smile crept across the older man’s face, crinkling his mouth at the corners and lighting up his eyes. “There might be, if you wouldn’t mind working at a ranch owned by a woman.”
“A woman?” Justin shook his head. “I don’t follow.”
“Miss Alexia has a large spread a couple of miles out of town. Her man Joe helps run the place, but I’m guessing they might need help.”
“Where does Toby fit in?”
“Martha’s the housekeeper—she’s been there for years. She loves children and might care for your son if you were hired. Talk to Joe Todd—he’s been on the job since the ranch started. I think he does the hiring, and he’s a good man. Tell him you stopped here and that I sent you.” He leaned forward and met Justin’s eyes. “One thing, though. Can you ride, rope, and break a horse?”
A slow smile spread across Justin’s face. “Yes, sir. That I can.”
“Then pack your duds and offer your help. I can’t imagine Joe’ll turn you down. Ride east out of town about a mile and a half. Cross a stream and head up a hill. The ranch is on a long plateau.” He pushed back his chair and rose, offering his hand. “Good luck. You may be the godsend that ranch is looking for.”
Justin nodded. “Thanks. I’ll take your advice.” He shook the parson’s hand and jammed his hat back on his head. Time to get Toby and head out. Maybe his luck had changed and he’d find one last chance at the ranch up the road.
Chapter Ten
Alex shaded her eyes, looking toward the sinking sun at the man on horseback riding up the lane. His seat in the saddle looked familiar, but the glare of the sun in her eyes didn’t allow clear visibility until he’d almost reached the porch.
Carter Foster pulled his horse out of its slow trot and rested his hand on the pommel. His smile lit up the serious planes of his face. “Alexia, I haven’t seen you in some time. Sorry to hear about your father’s passing.”
She allowed herself a brief nod and a small smile. “Thank you. What brings you out this late in the day?”
He rested his hands on the pommel of his saddle, and a pained expression creased his handsome face. “I’ve been worried about you since Ben died. I’d have attended the service, but business took me east for a spell. I only returned a few days ago.”
She crossed her arms and leaned against a nearby pillar. “So you came to offer your condolences?”
He shook his head and smiled. “Aren’t you going to ask me to step down?”
She had no desire to entertain him, but common courtesy demanded it. “Of course, and I apologize. I’ll ask Martha to bring some coffee to the parlor. Have you eaten?”
He stepped down from his gelding and knotted the reins around the rail. “I’ve eaten. Coffee would be fine, thanks. But it’s a lovely day. How about having a cup with me here on the porch?”
“I don’t mind taking a break. I’ll be right back. Help yourself to a chair.” She hurried to the kitchen and nearly bumped into Martha in the doorway. “Do you have a pot of coffee on?”
The bustling woman wiped her hands on a towel and then tossed it on a hook. “Of course. When don’t I have hot coffee? Who’s here, and why don’t you bring them in?”
Alex opened a cupboard door and pulled out an earthenware mug. “Carter Foster. He prefers to stay on the porch.”
Martha grunted and frowned. “Strange him coming here now. We didn’t see much of him when your pa was alive. Wonder what he wants now that Ben’s gone?”
“Now, Martha, that’s not fair. You know Carter travels to Auburn on business. I’m sure he’ll be around more, now that he’s running his pa’s place the way I’m running mine.” Alex wrapped a towel around the handle of the coffeepot sitting on the stove and poured the hot brew into the mug. “Besides, you know that Papa and Mr. Foster were old friends—and distant cousins to boot. Papa always said we should be kind to family.”
“Sure, and I agree with that, when they’re family. But Carter Foster is so far removed you can’t rightly call him that. He’s after one thing. This ranch. And I’d not be surprised to learn that he’d like you in the bargain.”
Alex turned so fast she almost slopped the coffee. “Martha! Carter’s always been decent to me. But I’m not in love with him, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”
Martha picked up a big pot of steaming water from the back of the stove and poured it into the washbasin. “He may be nice enough, but he’s too old for you. Even if his daddy left him a big ranch and enough money to buy this place three times over, it don’t make him the right man for you.”
Alex patted Martha’s shoulder. “Clarence Elton did tell me he offered to pay off the note and buy the ranch if I had any problems. But don’t worry,” she hurried when Martha turned a grim face her way. “I do not intend to sell him the ranch. But I need to hear him out.”
Martha sighed. “I reckon we’d best be polite, even to those who think they’re better than the rest of us.” She plunked dishes in the water so hard that Alex winced. “But don’t you be inviting him to dinner.”
Alex laughed and hugged Martha then headed toward the front porch with the coffee. Carter reclined in the swing, pushing off against a post with his dust-covered riding boot. His black broadcloth suit and matching hat looked new and appeared little worse for the ride from his place.
He stretched out a hand that hadn’t seen much hard labor and grasped the mug of coffee. “Thank you, Alexia.”
She sank into a padded wicker chair a few feet away and sipped her cold tea. “I’m curious as to what brings you out this way. It’s not like you to visit without a reason.”
He shot her a direct look and laughed. “Never one to hide how you feel, are you, my dear? Can’t I make a social call without raising suspicion?”
“I doubt a social call brought you here, Carter. Clarence Elton told me you stopped by the bank.”
“Ah.” He lifted the mug to his mouth but didn’t drop his eyes. “I’ll get to the point, then. I’d like to buy the ranch.” He raised a hand when she started to protest.
Alex drew a deep breath, released it slowly, and nodded.
He set his mug on a table nearby and laced his fingers in his lap. “I can offer you top dollar for the land and the horses, and I’ll keep on any wranglers who care to stay. You can’t run this place by yourself. I understand you’ve already lost at least two hands, and others will probably follow. If you can’t keep up with the ranch, you may lose your contract with the cavalry. Why not sell now? Move yourself and Martha into town. You’ll have enough to keep you in a nice little house for years, or at least until you find a husband.” He grinned and leaned back in his seat.
Alex shifted in her seat, suddenly wishing she’d listened to Martha about inviting Carter to stay. An offer for her ranch didn’t bother her so much, but the ongoing insistence that she needed a husband was growing old. She raised her gaze and kept it fixed on Carter’s smiling face. “No thanks, Carter. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but Papa taught me enough to make a success of the ranch. This is my home, and I have no intention of moving.” She set her glass down on the arm of her chair with a little more force than she planned, and liquid spilled over the side.
“I know that mortgage will be hard to meet. I could offer an alternative that would solve your problems and allow you to keep the ranch.”
Alex picked up her tea and took a sip. “And what would that be?”
“Marry me, and the ranch wou
ld still belong to you. We’d run it together, and with my ranch adjoining yours, we’d be the largest force between here and Auburn.”
She gasped and nearly choked on her drink. “Marry you? But—I don’t love you.”
A smile softened his features. “I care for you, Alexia. I wanted to court you properly instead of rushing this, but with your father gone… well, I thought I should declare myself.”
Alex clasped her hands in her lap and bowed her head, trying to sort her thoughts. Carter wasn’t like Charlie or Walter—he was older, more mature, and with a spread almost as big as her own. A bit of a dandy, perhaps, and content to slide along on family money, but a decent sort nevertheless. She looked up into his handsome face. The offer wasn’t distasteful, just unexpected. If she never found someone to truly love, could she marry to save the ranch and all she’d grown up loving? She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “That’s kind of you, Carter, but I can’t say yes to something this sudden. I’ve never considered you in that regard.”
“I’m sure you’d come to care for me. I’d be good to you, Alexia. And think of the land we’d own between us. You control one of the best water sources within a hundred miles. My place adjoins yours and is covered with good timber. Besides, I have enough money for both of us, and your worry about the mortgage would be over.”
She set her glass on the porch and rose. “I’m sorry. I’m not prepared to make a decision like that based solely on finances.”
The eager light dimmed in Carter’s eyes, but he maintained his smile. “Life would be much easier for you.”
She shook her head and stepped away. “I won’t say yes, Carter, but I appreciate your offer and I’m honored that you care.”
He settled his hat on his head and straightened his bow tie. “Since you didn’t say no, the proposal stands,” he said softly. He stepped off the porch, untied the reins from the hitching rail, and swung into his saddle. “I’ll stop by again. I’d hate to lose touch with my great-uncle’s only surviving family.” His face lit with a stunning smile. “And I’m not giving up hope that you might change your mind.”
Love Finds You in Last Chance, California Page 8
