“We didn’t mean no harm!” one of the men called after her.
Gemma didn’t bother to turn around. Not doing so went against everything she’d been taught, but she didn’t care. This wasn’t New York. The old rules and manners did not apply in Wyoming. She had already tried to make them, and she’d failed miserably.
No, nothing was familiar here. This wasn’t Park Avenue and this wasn’t the dime western she kept at her bedside. This was a new, strange land, and it was threatening to be the death of her.
16
16. Mitchell
Chapter Sixteen
The grass in the western field was nearly all gone, Mitch noticed as he stared down at it. They’d taken to keeping the cattle close to home the last few weeks, not driving them out to graze near the hills. As a result, all the greenery surrounding the farm was close to being eaten up.
He was trying to stay collected as Samuel went on, speaking the same piece he always did. To do that, Mitchell had to make a point of not looking at the man.
“We just need more hands,” Samuel was saying. “It’s that simple. That way, there’s no problem with patrolling.”
“We can’t,” Mitchell sternly bit back. He slowly lifted his face and looked at Samuel’s. “Not right now.”
Behind Samuel, Nat bounced from foot to foot, looking nervous. “I can take up longer watches.”
The bags under the young hand’s eyes were worse than they’d ever been. Nat was a good kid, one who would work himself to death if it would get the job done, but Mitch wasn’t going to let him do that.
“If we hadn’t have lost those heads last winter, you wouldn’t be having the money issues now,” Samuel pointed out.
Mitch shot him a sharp look. Enough was enough. He’d made a mistake last winter by not going up into the hills and getting those heads before the storm came. Samuel had insisted there was a blizzard headed their way, that any farm animals out in it would freeze to death, but Mitch had brushed the warning off. He’d messed up and he knew it.
He just didn’t appreciate Samuel bringing it up.
“That’s in the past,” Mitch hissed.
Samuel shook his head and looked away. “All I’m saying is—”
“What? What are you saying?”
Samuel turned his steely eyes on Mitchell’s. “Nothing,” he seethed. “This ain’t your Pa’s ranch anymore. It’s yours. Run it as you see fit.”
With that, he turned heel and stalked away. Mitch watched him go, his whole body trembling with rage. He would have gotten rid of Samuel if he could, but the fact that his old man had hired the hand always stopped him. Mitchell’s father had gotten along with the fellow, so why couldn’t he?
“School’s out next week,” Nat said. “My parents can loan my brother out for a while, I’m sure. He can come over here and help.”
Mitch clapped Nat on the shoulder. “That’s real nice, Nat. Thank you, but I can’t take advantage of your family like that.”
“You wouldn’t even have to pay him a full wage.”
The offer made Mitch wince. “Exactly.”
Over Nat’s shoulder, some movement caught Mitch’s eye. Gemma strode along the end of the fruit orchard, her strides long and purposeful.
“Go on up to lunch,” Mitch instructed, not even looking at Nat. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jogging across the field, Mitchell caught up with Gemma. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
She turned to him in surprise, her eyes red and puffy. Mitch instantly stopped smiling. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
She shook her head.
“You’re crying.”
“It’s fine,” she rasped.
“No, it’s not. Are you hurt? Did someone do something to you?”
Fire raged in his chest. If anyone had put so much as a finger on her…
“No, I just...” She waved her hand in the air and let out a tired sigh. “I cracked all the eggs.”
“For a cake?”
Gemma dryly laughed. “No. I dropped them. On the ground.”
Her lower lip trembled and she turned away and began walking, so fast that Mitch had to jog once more to keep up.
“That’s not so bad.”
“Yes, it is,” she said, not looking at him. “All I had to do was collect the eggs and carry them back to the house safely, and I couldn’t even do that.”
They were heading down the hill near the road, going to the stream that broke off from Lullaby Creek.
Gemma couldn’t have known where she was headed, but she sure acted like she did. Her hands curled against her side, she continued her angry march.
“You don’t have to be out here with me,” she said to the bank. “I know you have plenty of work to get done.”
There wasn’t a trace of resentment in her voice, but the mention of all the work he had “to get done” caused Mitch physical pain. He didn’t need any more reminding of how little time he had for Gemma.
“Don’t worry about it. I want to be here with you.”
She stopped walking and faced him. “You do?”
The air became thick between them, the scenery behind Gemma becoming blurry and fading away. “Yes,” Mitchell honestly answered.
A crack exploded above their heads, making Gemma jump. Dark gray clouds were collecting, their fat rain drops only a few seconds away from falling.
“Come on.” Mitchell took Gemma’s elbow and steered her toward the trees by the stream. “We don’t want to be out in the open during a storm.”
The rain came down just as they slipped beneath the canopy of the closely huddled trees. With the thick layers of leaves, only a few drops managed to make their way down onto the two people taking shelter.
Gemma pressed herself close to the trunk of the largest tree and stared out at the drizzle. Lightning flashed across the sky, striking somewhere not far from the main house.
“That’s why we don’t want to be out there,” Mitchell pointed out. “That could have been us.”
Gemma frowned. “I suppose there won’t be any eggs for breakfast tomorrow.”
“You’re still thinking about the eggs, huh?”
“How can I not?”
Mitch sucked in his lower lip and turned away. He didn’t know what to say. Or what Gemma wanted him to say. He’d known almost right away that she probably wasn’t fit for farm life. But that also didn’t matter all that much, as long as she wanted to stay.
He sure wanted her to.
“I know life here must be very different than what you’re used to.”
Something like trepidation crossed her face. “I… yes, it is.” She quickly looked away, her fingers twisting together against her apron.
Mitch studied her nervous profile. For some reason, it didn’t seem like she wanted to talk about life in New York. Were there bad memories there for her?
“I hope you still want to stay here,” he slowly said.
Gemma whipped her face back to him, her eyes wide. “Yes! I certainly do!”
He couldn’t hold back the relieved sigh. “Good.”
“I know I’m probably not what you were expecting, though,” she sullenly went on. “I’m afraid I’m not as cut out for farm life as I hoped I would be.”
It was one of the most honest confessions Mitchell had ever heard and it made his respect for Gemma double.
Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it lightly. “That’s all right. I never expected New York to be full of ranches, anyhow. It was the passion you wrote about that made me want to bring you here. It seemed like you had heart. You do have heart.”
Gemma’s lashes fluttered quickly and her breaths became sharper as Mitchell talked. Warm sparks traveled through his palm and fingers, making him feel as if he were an extension of the lightning storm taking place all around them.
“I have a slight confession to make,” she murmured, casting her eyes sideways. “I read these… well, these dime
westerns. And I suppose I thought life out here would be just like in them. I imagined every day would be exciting, that there would be gold mining and Indians and cowboys fighting on horseback.”
Mitch laughed. “Dime westerns, huh?”
She blushed and nodded. “They’re silly.”
“They sound like fun.”
“I brought my favorite one,” she slowly said.
“Maybe you can read it to me sometime.”
Pleasure consumed her face. “That would be nice,” she breathlessly answered.
“As far as excitement… this is only your second day here. I don’t think you should be so quick to pass judgment on Winding Path. This land might just surprise you.”
“Are there Indians?”
“Nearby, sure, but things have been peaceful with them the last few years and we should pray it stays that way.”
Gemma seriously nodded, but Mitch could see the excitement hiding in her eyes. She was so adventure-seeking, so eager, so emotional and wild. She was what his father would have called a handful.
And Mitch found that he loved it. Spending most of his life on a ranch meant he was used to unpredictability. He hadn’t known Gemma was the kind of woman he was looking for, but now that she had arrived, he was pleased to discover she fit right into his life.
He couldn’t stop his hand from lifting and grazing down the side of her cheek. At the touch, Gemma took in a quick little breath. Even under the dark shroud of the trees, he could see the blacks of her eyes grow.
A soft lump developed in Mitchell’s throat and he tried to swallow it down, but it wasn’t going anywhere. His hands shook and his heart pounded away, the distant thundering in the sky no comparison.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he softly said. “There’s no one in the whole world like you, Gemma Campbell. I’m sure of it. And I don’t want you going anywhere.”
The back of his hand was against the tip of her chin. He knew he’d touched her longer than was appropriate, that he should have dropped his arm and moved away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Gemma tilted her face up, her soft, pink lips parted.
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” she breathlessly answered. “I have to confess, I’ve thought about leaving since arriving here… but only because everything just feels so strange. It seems as if I never know what to do in any given situation. I’d be no better off blindfolded, I’m afraid.”
Mitch smiled. “You’ll learn. Don’t worry. You think all these ranch hands knew what to do their first days on the job? Or Clara? Or me? We all get there by working hard and not quitting. And I know we still don’t know each other all that well, but you came all the way out west on your own, and that makes me think you’re determined. That you can’t be beat down—not by anyone.”
Gemma let out a slight whimper and her eyes floated closed. Mitch was on fire, burning to touch the tender, passionate woman. All he wanted in the world in that moment was to take her in his arms and keep her close, to keep her safe, to make her his.
But instead, he dropped his hand from her face and took a step back. “I want to marry you next week.”
Her eyes flew open.
“On Sunday,” he continued before she could say anything. “If that’s all right with you.”
“It’s quite all right,” she murmured, sounding like she’d drank half a bottle of whiskey.
“Good.”
Behind her, a patch of sunlight hit the earth. The storm was over and the clouds were parting. It was a new beginning.
“Come on.” Mitch jerked his head toward the barns. “I’ll walk you back to the chicken coop. I know a few places in the bushes where the hens like to hide their eggs.”
17
17. Gemma
Chapter Seventeen
Gemma stared the rooster down, looking him straight in the eye. “Not today, Mister. From now on, I am in charge around here.”
Setting her basket down, she rooted around in her pocket for the pins she’d had left over from putting up her hair. Locating them, she got to work folding up the hem of her skirt and securing it to her apron. She’d seen a maid back in New York wear her dress that way so that it wouldn’t trip her up, and now, Gemma would do the same.
“Out of my way,” she confidently said, marching right past the rooster and into the coop. He didn’t follow, nor did the hens cluck. The entire operation went incredibly smoothly, with Gemma finding ten eggs in the coop and another five in the nearby bushes.
The whole morning had been this way, with one wondrous event after another unfolding. When Gemma first felt sunlight strike her face, instead of groaning and rolling over, she’d jumped from bed and hurried into the kitchen to help Clara with breakfast. Half the men, including Mitchell, were already done eating and out working, but no matter. Gemma would wake up even earlier the next morning. Soon, she would be up just as early as the rest of them, doing her part, frying eggs and washing clothes.
The magical moment with Mitchell the day before had changed everything for her. He’d said all the right things. It was as if he could see right into her soul. He took note of her wounds and disgraces and nursed them until she became all better.
And the way he looked at her… Gemma had never known a man could look at a woman in such a way, or make her feel the way Mitchell had her.
Her intuition had been right. The West had called her. Mitchell was destined to be her husband. Soon, they would be man and wife, joined together as one. The thought made Gemma feel like she had sprouted wings.
She floated back to the main house, where she deposited the eggs in the kitchen with Clara before going back outside once more. There was bread to be baked later—the first loaves Gemma would ever bake—but until then, she had a small amount of free time and she knew just where she wanted to spend it.
The horse barn was cool and welcoming, a comforting cave. Gemma trailed along the stalls, reaching out to give the horses bits of the broken carrot she’d pulled from the garden. They nibbled gratefully, snorting their thanks. Gemma looked for the horse Mitchell seemed to favor and noticed her gone. Gemma hadn’t seen Mitchell at breakfast, but she hoped he would make an appearance at the next meal.
Thinking about Mitchell brought back the memory of the day before yet again. With her hands still on the soft nose of a brown mare, she closed her eyes and sank back into the past. Alone in the dark barn, she could nearly feel his touch on her cheek, could almost hear his voice saying they would marry next Sunday…
“Hello there!”
Gemma gasped and stepped away from the horse. A stocky figure approached her. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
Gemma blinked against the light, waiting for her eyes to make sense of what was in front of her. Finally, the ranch hand came into focus.
“Nathaniel Keenan, Miss.” He tipped his hat.
Gemma smiled. “Nat.”
She had yet to memorize all the ranch hands’ names, but Nat was one of the easiest to remember. While some of the help had never given her more than a side glance and some were downright intimidating, Nat had been welcoming from the very beginning, when he had offered her his seat at the dining table.
He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I didn’t know you were in here, or else I would have gone around the barn. I was just walking through, on my way to give a calf a bottle.”
Now, he really had Gemma’s interest. “A bottle?” she cried. “What happened to his mother?”
Nat shrugged. “She’s still around, but for some dang reason, the babe isn’t taking to the teat. He takes a bottle just fine, though.”
“A baby cow,” she sighed. “Lovely.”
She’d seen a few of them around, but hadn’t known any of them were eating from bottles.
“Would you like to come with? He’s right over in that field.” Nat pointed past Gemma’s shoulder.
She clapped her hands in happiness. “Oh, yes, please! That would be delightful.”
<
br /> “Great. Let’s get on!”
Leaving the horses behind, Gemma followed him out the other end of the barn and into a nearby field. It was one of the few areas that was fenced in on the ranch and contained a few cows and their calves.
Her Western Heart (Seeing Ranch series) (A Western Historical Romance Book) Page 11
