Love Finds You in Last Chance, California

by Miralee Ferrell

  “No. I won’t take your charity.” The woman lay rigid and unmoving. Suddenly she raised a hand, placed it against the wall and pushed, rolling herself onto her back. A deep groan emanated from between her parted lips, and Alex saw beads of sweat break out across the pale forehead. “Look at this face. I’m a worthless saloon girl who got what she deserved. That’s what all the townspeople are saying. Admit it.”

  She glared up at Alex out of red, swollen eyes that were only half open. Bruises shadowed her cheekbones and chin, where a hard object—probably a man’s fist or foot—had landed repeated blows. The once dainty, clear complexion sported red, black, and blue splotches, and her forehead showed neat stitches just beneath the hairline.

  Alex met the stormy gaze of the battered young woman but didn’t flinch. She’d seen injuries like this before, when one of the wranglers had gotten into a brawl, but never on the face of a woman. But there was no way she’d allow Christy to see her dismay. “I don’t care what you look like or what the townspeople think. It’s not their concern who I invite to my home.”

  Christy lifted a shaking hand and tugged the sheet up close to her chin. “Then you’re crazier than I thought. Besides, Justin Phillips works for you, and he’s not going to want me on the place.”

  “I’ve discussed it with Justin, as well as Martha and Uncle Joe, and it’s settled. You’re coming. You have no place to go and no other choice, unless you’re independently wealthy. But I’m guessing that’s not the case, based on your occupation.” Alex hated the need for the brusque words but saw no other way of penetrating the woman’s stubborn refusal.

  Christy’s expression hardened and she turned her face away. “Fine. I’ll come, but only because you’re right—I don’t have a choice. But the minute I’m able, I’m leaving. And I’ll pay you for every scrap of food I eat and every day I take up space in your bed if it’s the last thing I do. I won’t be beholden to you.”

  Alex shrugged and tried to hide a smile as the sense of relief at her victory washed over her. “I don’t have a problem with that. Doc says we can pick you up on Monday. And in case you didn’t think of it, you’ll be living in the same house as Toby. I don’t think Justin wants to keep you away from your nephew, if you love him as much as you appear to.”

  Christy seemed to brighten at the words and nodded, but she didn’t respond.

  Alex took a step back then paused. “Is there anything you’d like Uncle Joe to get from your room?”

  Christy drew in a sharp breath then coughed. “Ouch. These blamed ribs hurt—can’t even take a deep breath without pain.” She laid a hand over her chest and smoothed the sheet. “I’d love to say no, but the truth is, I’d like to have my valise. I can have the doc send someone to bring it over, if they haven’t already tossed it.”

  “I’ll have Uncle Joe get it. Christy…” She hesitated, not sure of the wisdom of her next question. “Doc says you don’t know who attacked you, or why. That true?”

  Christy’s face drained of color and she struggled to shift toward the wall. No sound escaped her closed lips, but her stiff back shouted that she was through talking.

  Chapter Thirty

  The church buzzed with excitement following the shortened service. Parson Moser had dismissed them early, explaining that he’d never be forgiven if the ladies’ covered dishes and pies wilted in the midday heat. Women scurried from their places and prodded their husbands out the door toward wagons and horses waiting behind the building.

  Alex peeked over her shoulder at Justin and Toby standing along the back wall. Justin had declined Martha’s invitation to sit with them in church, giving Toby’s inability to sit still through the service as an excuse. Alex hoped his reason didn’t disguise a deeper motive. His recent offer of friendship reassured her somewhat, but she’d hate to see them slip back into a place of mutual distrust and avoidance.

  Toby spotted her and squealed. “’Lexie, I go to a picnic!” The high-pitched voice wafted across the open space, followed by a sweet giggle. Justin raised an amused gaze and met her eyes. Everything in the room seemed to come to a quiet standstill as the look deepened into a question.

  Alex drew in her breath and bit her bottom lip, surprised at the nervous flutter in her stomach. She dropped her eyes and spun away, searching for Martha or Elizabeth in the chattering crowd. What had she seen in his eyes? Dare she hope he might want more than friendship? Would he think her bold that she’d held his gaze?

  A gentle hand patted her arm. “Alexia, dear.” Martha stood nearby with her eyebrows raised. “Are you all right? You seem to have a bit of color—did you get too hot? It is rather close in here today.”

  “It’s a bit warm, but I’m fine.” Alex turned away and ducked her head.

  “Well, then, let’s get the food from the wagon and find a place in the shade. Joe’s spreading our blankets, so we’d best get a move on.”

  When Alex glanced back at the spot near the door, Justin and Toby had disappeared. He hadn’t waited to walk with them. What if she’d imagined more from his gaze than he’d meant to convey? He’d made it clear that day in her office that friendship was all he desired. A dull disappointment settled inside, coloring the afternoon in a drab shade of gray.

  She stepped outside and her spirit lifted at the sight that met her gaze. Families spread large, colorful quilts under the spreading bows of cedar and fir trees. The unmarried miners attached themselves to a variety of families, squatting on their heels and visiting. Squeals from small children erupted as they escaped the confines of their parents and chased one another across the clearing behind the church.

  Delicious smells wafted on the gentle summer breeze, starting a low rumble in Alex’s stomach. After her earlier disappointment, she’d thought she wouldn’t be hungry, but the sight of Martha’s heavily laden basket convinced her otherwise.

  Martha lifted a covered platter out of the basket, which Alex knew contained deep-fried chicken. “Come here, child, and help me.” She waved a wrinkled hand at the box near her knee. “You unpack that one. It has the dessert and cold-water jug. Too bad we couldn’t get any milk yesterday, but you can’t hardly beat the likes of our spring water, no-how.”

  Alex knelt beside the wooden crate and pulled off the lid. “If Mr. Elton finds out that you brought your famous apple pie, I’m afraid he’ll leave his wife’s side and sneak over here for a piece.” The thought of the banker brought back the memory of her father’s loan against the ranch, and a dull ache returned to Alex’s stomach. Why did life have to be so difficult?

  She gave herself a mental shake. Just a couple of days ago she’d turned her problems over to the Lord, and here she was trying to pick them up again. Best to leave them lay and not try to figure out all the answers. God had promised to see her through every difficulty with His grace and strength. Sure, the answers might not be exactly what she expected, but they’d always be His best. That’s where trust came in—letting Him make the decisions when her fingers were itching to take the reins.

  Martha peeked inside a large gingham cloth at an abundance of home-baked biscuits. “Clarence is more than welcome to a piece. I brought plenty. Never know who might come hungry.” She pushed up on her knees and peered across the small throng of people gathered under nearby trees. “Where’s my Toby-boy? Justin promised to bring him over. He didn’t take him to sit with Frank and Davis, did he?”

  Alex rocked back on her heels then pushed to her feet and shaded her eyes against the early afternoon sun. Elizabeth waved at her from a nearby blanket she shared with her uncle Larry, Sheriff Ramsey, and his wife, Sarah. Too bad Elizabeth didn’t have a beau—with her sweet spirit and gentle nature, she’d make some man a wonderful wife.

  Parson Moser strolled from one group to the next, apparently intent on greeting each person who’d come to share the festivities with the church family, regular attendees or not. His booming laugh rang out as he leaned over to ruffle Johnny’s hair. The freckle-faced boy grinned up at the older man, b
ut the chattering crowd drowned out his reply.

  A small, dark-haired boy darted around a woman’s wide skirt. Toby. Justin must be close behind, as he never allowed the boy far from his sight unless he was in the care of Martha or Uncle Joe. Justin’s tall, lean frame and smiling face appeared a few yards behind Toby, and Alex relaxed. He’d kept his word and stayed for the picnic. Now if he’d come share their meal as she’d asked. She watched him wend his way through the crowd and noted that more than one set of female eyes appraised his movements as he passed.

  Martha raised a plump arm and waved. “To–by,” her high-pitched call rang out, carrying above the noise. “Over here, darlin’.”

  Justin grasped Toby’s hand and steered him toward their blanket, releasing him when they arrived. The small boy scampered across the intervening space and launched himself into Martha’s arms. “Miz Marfa, I hungry!”

  Martha picked the boy up and settled him on her hip. “When aren’t you hungry, little man?”

  He wiped a lock of hair out of his eyes and peered into her face. “Never.”

  The solemn reply brought a round of chuckles from the three adults and elicited a big grin from Toby. “Miz Marfa bring chicken and pie?”

  She nodded and patted his back then let him slip to the ground. “Yes, we have chicken and pie. We’re just waiting for Uncle Joe and then we’ll eat.” She turned to Justin and motioned toward the box. “Won’t you get out plates and silverware and take a seat?”

  Justin didn’t move. “How about the rest of your men? Aren’t they joining us?” He looked at Alex with raised brows. “You mentioned joining your ‘ranch’ family. I don’t think I should stay if the other men aren’t coming.”

  She tucked her feet under her skirt and shook her head. “Davis, Will, and Frank are here somewhere. Martha packed them their own basket since they like to smoke with some of the hands from nearby properties. They’ll stop by when it’s time for pie.”

  He scooped up Toby and took a step back. “Maybe I’d best find their group.”

  Alex rose to her knees and held out her hand. “No need. Martha’s been looking forward to having Toby, and we wouldn’t want the two of you separated. You’re both welcome. Please stay.” She bit her lower lip to keep from proclaiming just how welcome they both were to her.

  Justin sank onto the blanket a few feet from Alex. He’d been wandering the grounds for the last few minutes, gathering the nerve to approach. The last time they’d talked about their mutual decision to trust in God, he’d felt an intimacy he’d never experienced with a woman. Why hadn’t he declared his affection for her instead of asking her to be his friend? But maybe it was just as well—she’d eagerly accepted the proffered friendship and didn’t seem dismayed at not taking it further.

  Then there was the added complication of Toby—his welfare must come first. Alex appeared to care for him, but would she want a stepson? Worse still, would she think the ranch drew his interest more than she did? A woman on her own with holdings the size of the Circle T had to be careful. Many men might court her in hopes of attaining control of her spread.

  Toby plopped down in Justin’s lap, drawing his thoughts back to the present. “Papa, Toby wants pie.” The little boy reached up and patted Justin’s face.

  “Not now, son. We’ll eat Martha’s other good food first.” He hugged the slim body against his chest and glanced at Alex. The expression on her face was unreadable.

  Joe hobbled across the cleared area, stepping carefully over the large sugar pine cones in his path. “Save any vittles for me, Toby?” His weathered face lit with a smile and he sank down next to the boy.

  “Uh-huh. Toby saved pie for Unca Joe.” Toby scooted off Justin’s lap and trotted over to Joe. “Papa says chicken first.”

  Joe hooted with laughter. “That’s what Martha always says. I tell her you should eat pie first, case anythin’ happens and you don’t get a chance. It all ends up in the same place, anyhow.”

  Martha wagged her head and shook her finger. “Don’t go givin’ that boy any ideas.”

  Parson Moser raised his voice and called for attention. “Let’s ask the Lord’s blessing on this abundance so we can enjoy what our womenfolk have prepared.” Silence settled over the crowd, and the parson offered a short prayer.

  The next few minutes passed in companionable silence as Martha heaped each plate with a variety of mouthwatering dishes. Justin’s stomach growled as he eyed the chicken, biscuits, beans, fresh greens from Martha’s garden, apples from the nearby community orchard, and warm pies nestled in their box. “This all looks so good that I don’t know where to start.” He grinned up at Martha with his fork poised above his plate.

  A pleased flush covered her face and a sparkle lit her eyes. “Ah, go on with you. Just grab a drumstick and dig in. I know a hungry man when I see one.”

  Alex bent over Toby, tucking a cloth into the neck of his button-up shirt and whispering something in his ear. The boy nodded, grinned, and drew a chicken wing to his mouth. She giggled and tousled his hair then turned her smile on Justin.

  His heart stopped for a brief moment then rushed on, pounding an assault in his ears at the tenderness in her eyes. A rush of emotion nearly choked him. He pressed his napkin to his mouth to cover the sputter. How long had it been since he’d felt the desire that pounded through his veins? But this time it was different. Mixed with the physical attraction was a longing for a pure and holy relationship.

  His parents had experienced that type of love—one that encouraged, protected, and sustained. Alex’s integrity and depth of character called to something within him, making him long to love and cherish her in a way that transcended mere physical desire. All this flitted through his thoughts as he watched her interact with his small son. He couldn’t completely grasp what he hoped might happen between them, but he yearned for so much more than what he had now.

  He scraped his fork across his plate and lifted the last bite to his mouth then froze. Carter Foster wove his way around a nearby family, his gaze intent on Alex. Who had invited him? Did Alex know that Foster was coming? He frowned and reached for Toby. An urgency to hold and protect his son inexplicably drove him.

  Alex’s laugh broke and stilled as Justin drew Toby from her arms and onto his lap. “Justin, Toby’s fine.”

  He tipped his head toward Carter, who stood silently on the edge of the blanket behind her. “You have company.”

  Alex’s head turned in the direction he indicated. “Carter. How nice of you to stop by.” Her voice expressed curiosity, but did it also hold a hint of warmth?

  Carter swept his hat off his dark head and smiled, first at Alex then at Martha and Joe. “Ladies, you both look lovely. Joe, you appear in fine mettle.” Justin didn’t miss the man’s lack of acknowledgment for himself and Toby.

  Martha’s brows rose, but she allowed a small smile to soften her lips. “Have you eaten?”

  “I have, but I’d never turn down a piece of your pie.” He stepped forward and gazed at the box of pies sitting near Martha’s knees.

  She reached for the box and drew out a pie tin. The golden crust was dotted with small chunks of apple juice that had oozed out the slits in the top. “Certainly. Take a seat. Alexia, would you pass Mr. Foster a plate?”

  Carter knelt beside Alexia and smiled into her upturned face then reached across for a plate, his shoulder and upper arm brushing hers. She drew back slightly but didn’t appear perturbed.

  Justin frowned and tightened his grip on his squirming son. Had Alex invited Foster just as she’d invited him? She’d made it clear she was asking Justin only as part of their group of wranglers, not as a special guest. Had Foster received a more personal invitation?

  Carter settled in beside Alex. “I’d have come sooner, but pressing business kept me at the ranch longer than I’d planned.”

  Joe leaned forward on the knuckles of his right hand. “Pressing business? Anythin’ wrong?”

  “Just a small mystery I hope to c
lear up soon.” Carter accepted his slice of pie with a smile and a nod. “I’m finding a discrepancy in the tally of my cattle. Of course, they could easily have wandered into the deep timber or down in the breaks of a canyon. That doesn’t worry me, but the few head of missing horses does.”

  Alex’s head snapped up. “You’ve lost horses? When did that start?”

  Carter lifted a forkful of pie to his mouth then paused as his gaze turned toward Justin. “Not exactly sure, but I’d say about four to five weeks ago. About the time you arrived, Phillips.”

  Justin dropped his fork and set his plate aside. “I don’t care for what you’re implying.”

  Martha reached for Toby and shushed the whimpering boy. “Now, Justin, I’m sure Mr. Foster doesn’t mean anything. Do you, Carter? It’s just an unfortunate coincidence that you discovered some stock missing around that time.”

  Foster gave a slow nod and a smile that didn’t come close to reaching the eyes still trained on Justin. “Certainly, Martha. My apologies if I implied anything else.” His smile grew as he turned toward Alex. “I expected your other men to be close by, seeing that your new hand is here with you. You don’t typically invite your wranglers to the church picnic, I’m sure.”

  Alex started to answer, but Justin pushed to his feet. “Martha, I’ll take Toby for a walk and let Miss Travers enjoy her time with her guest.”

  Martha’s eyes widened, and her gaze darted from Justin to Alex and back. “Don’t you go rushing off, young man. We invited you to eat with us, and you’ve only had one piece of my pie.”

  “And a perfect piece it was, Martha.” He scooped Toby up in his arms and bowed toward Alex. “Miss Travers, I wish you a good afternoon.”

  Justin sensed more than saw Alex stiffen and start to reach out a hand, but he didn’t pause. A deep sense of rage was building inside him, and he needed to escape before it ruptured. He’d beaten a man for less than what Foster threw at him, but his desire to honor the Lord had stayed his hand this time.