Sighing long and hard, she shook her head. “No, I don’t. Ain’t that so, Myrtle May?”
Myrtle didn’t answer, which didn’t surprise Katie. Her horse was a little on the quiet side. And that was okay. Katie didn’t mind the quiet—though she sure missed conversations with her pa. She just plain missed her pa.
It was just her now. And though things were fuzzy in her head since the tornado, she was making it. If only she didn’t have to go to town for supplies.
She tugged her pa’s hat low over her eyes and gritted her jaw down tight.
“You can do this, Katie Pearl. Yes, you can,” she assured herself. “Long as you don’t have to shoot somebody, you’ll be just fine.”
Almost there, Katie sat up ramrod straight and hiked her chin in the air. Clamping her brows down hard, dare in her eyes, she stared straight ahead and pretended her stomach wasn’t so queasy that it threatened to give her back the ham and beans she’d fed it for breakfast.
A man’s horse dropping dead in the middle of nowhere left a man with few options.
Treb Rayburn was that man.
His shoulder numb, he let the saddle that had been riding his back for the last three days slide to the ground as he stared at the pitiful excuse of a town. Midway, Texas, or so the sign read.
Not much to look at—not by a long shot—but his aching feet and sore back would attest that he’d never been happier to see a town in all his life.
Scanning the street, his gaze drifted past the clapboard hotel and diner that were by no means fancy and then on past the saloon, which appeared to be doing a fair business from the looks of the cowboys lined up outside. Treb wasn’t interested in the saloon. He continued his survey, coming to rest on Crandon’s General Store, sitting directly across the street from the saloon.
That’d be the place.
Hefting his saddle once more, he strode down the rutted, dusty street and stepped up onto the rough wood walk, purpose in his steps. He’d find work, earn enough money to replace his horse, and then he’d be on his way toward the next sunset, the next horizon. He had places to go and things to see: Galveston, New Orleans, and on farther along the Gulf of Mexico.
A few miles beyond Midway ran the Trinity River. Treb planned to cross the river as soon as he had a fresh horse beneath him.
His boots thudded along as he strode toward the store where he’d begin his search for work. A young woman in a blue gingham dress with a holstered pistol strapped around her slim hips caught his attention. She wore an oversized felt hat with a wide brim. He wasn’t sure if it was the gun or the cornflower-blue eyes that met his briefly before darting off that drew his attention. After all, he’d seen women in the West packin’ pistols and rifles before. This was still wild country and a person had to be prepared. He decided that what got his attention the most was that he’d never seen one quite so pretty and wary at the same time. Her eyes connected to his again, but she spun away and started studying the dry goods in the window like she was desperate to have what was there.
Treb rubbed his bristly jaw and figured he needed a shave. A bath wouldn’t hurt either. The door was open and he walked inside, setting his saddle in the corner out of the way. There was a tall crane of a man with a pleasant smile helping two older women choose some thread. Treb didn’t miss their curious stares as the man moved away from them and came toward him.
“Hello, I’m Marcus Crandon, proprietor. May I help you?”
Treb introduced himself as they shook hands. “I’m just passing through—” Movement distracted Treb when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the young woman on the sidewalk peeking around the door at him. Her face was small, her chin dainty, her cheekbones high, her expression suspicious. When his gaze met those blue, blue eyes, she scowled at him, tugged her hat low, and found the doorjamb immensely fascinating.
Curious for certain. Treb wasn’t sure what to make of the snoopy young woman who seemed to be stuck to the boardwalk. He forced himself to focus on the proprietor. “My horse died about three days back, and I need to find some work. Nothing permanent, mind you. Just something so I can earn enough money to buy a good horse and be on my way.”
Crossing his lanky arms, Mr. Crandon tapped his cleft chin with his index finger. “Got wanderlust in your veins, do you?”
“Like floodwaters,” Treb said, grinning. “There’s a big, vast land out there, and I aim to see most of it before I settle down.”
Crandon grinned. “When I was younger, I got the itch myself. That’s how I ended up here. I wish you all the best.” He paused, briefly. “Tell you what, they might be hiring down at the Rattlesnake Ranch. That ranch is so huge they’re always looking for cowpokes.”
“Psst.”
Treb heard the loud hiss and looked around.
“Psst!” It was the gal from the sidewalk hissing. She was peeking around the door, her brows crunched down hard. She waved to draw their attention.
“Katie,” Crandon said patiently, as if talking to a child. “Hold on. Ernie is getting your order ready and will have it out to you soon. Your windows aren’t here yet though.”
She shook her head impatiently and glared straight at Treb. “Him. I want him,” she said, motioning for Treb to come over.
He wasn’t at all sure what to make of the woman. She couldn’t be more than twenty, and she was pleasant enough to look at. But it was the wariness in her eyes that struck him as he stared back at her and poked a finger to his chest. “Me?” he asked, looking around just to make certain no one had come to stand behind him.
She nodded real fast, waving him over.
Treb shot a questioning glance at Crandon, who hiked a brow, his hawk eyes studying Treb. “Katie’s not one to talk to strangers. Truth be told, she’s not one to talk to most anyone. Least not lately.”
Treb’s neck started to itch from all the folks in the store looking at him with an interest that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago.
Slowly, he strode toward the curious woman. She scuffled away from the door to stand in front of the big window. While no one inside would be able to hear what Katie had to say to him, they’d have a full view of the conversation.
Her hand rested ominously on her pistol as he walked toward her. But he was six feet two inches tall, and she had to crane her head back to look up at him.
“I’ll hire you on at my ranch. Starting now.”
His brows dipped, not sure he’d heard her right. But there was no mistaking her clear words. She shifted her pretty eyes from side to side. It made Treb nervous just watching her.
“You’ll hire me?” he managed after those eyes came back to meet his. It was the first chance he’d had to look really close into them, and his gut did a funny thing—kind of dropped and rolled, end over end, the way it had three days earlier when his horse fell dead beneath him and sent him tumbling headfirst into the road. He wasn’t sure what to think of the look in her eyes. They narrowed now, distrust edging them. Her eyes were beautiful, and his gaze dropped to the firm tilt of her kissable lips . . . What in tarnation was he thinking?
This woman looked like she’d just as soon shoot him before she’d even think about kissing him. Then again, she was offering him a job.
“You can’t be more’n twenty,” he said, not beating around the bush. “You telling me your pa would hire me?”
“My pa’s dead. If you want to be hired on at my place then I’m the one you’d be hirin’ on under. I’ll pay you double what Rattlesnake’ll pay you, and add a good horse to the bargain when the job is done.” She shot off a wage that he’d be a fool to pass up. With a horse in the bargain—no doubt about it—it was too good to be true.
There had to be a catch.
“What exactly would I be doing?”
Her brows puckered up. “What do you think? Ranchin’ cleanup and . . . ah, building.”
He heard the hesitation in the last word. “Building? What would I be building?”
“A house. Mine was destroyed b
y the tornado three weeks ago, and I need help putting it back together. I’ve got windows ordered and will need some walls to hold them in place. I need the building more’n anything.”
He was pretty certain he heard sadness in her voice. Treb didn’t do sadness too well. He wasn’t much on getting close enough to folks to care about their feelings, and he had no desire to experience it anyway. He’d had his belly full of emotion.
He wasn’t real enthusiastic about the idea of working for a woman either. Especially one younger than him and who looked like she was itchin’ to shoot a man rather than hire one. While standing there contemplating his situation, a scrawny cowboy with shifty, weasel eyes strode toward them. The cowboy halted abruptly and turned pasty white the instant he spied Katie. Poor fellow looked like he didn’t know what to do.
Katie glowered at him—she might be small, but there was no never mind to that, not with the way her hand itched on that pistol at her hip. The man’s gaze dropped to that pistol, then he spun and crossed the busy street as if someone had just lit fire to his pants.
Treb nodded toward the fella. “Friend of yours?”
Katie scowled. “Only if I needed target practice.”
Treb nudged his hat back a notch and cocked his head to the side. “You plannin’ to use me for target practice?”
Her soft lips twitched and her eyes lightened for a brief moment before she slammed her brows down and frowned. “Not long as you do your work and don’t ask me to marry you.”
He almost laughed—but held back, figuring if he did she might shoot him where he stood. “Marry you? I’m not marrying anyone, so you’ve got yourself a deal.”
He could have sworn he saw relief in those distrustful eyes. But it vanished just as quickly as he saw it appear. “Good. Got my wagon right there. Soon as they finish loading up my supplies, we can head out to my place.”
“I’ve got a few things to grab for myself inside the store, then I’ll meet you back out here. How’s that?” he asked, still not accustomed to having a woman for a boss. She gave a curt nod, and he headed inside only to stop in the doorway and turn back. “Can I ask you something?”
“Don’t see why not.”
“How do you know you can trust me?” It was a fair question. He wasn’t sure why this girl of a woman was in the position she was in, owning a ranch and all, but it didn’t sit right on his chest, her trusting a stranger. If she had been his mother or his sister, he wouldn’t be too happy with her for just hiring some could-be-vagrant off the street.
Her brow hiked instantly. “I can shoot better than most men and I don’t sleep much. If you’re not to be trusted, I’ll figure it out soon enough. Then you’ll be the one turning pale and crossing the street before I lose my good humor and shoot you.”
Treb’s lip hitched up on one side. She had some spunk. He admired that in a woman. His mother crossed his thoughts again but he pushed that door closed. Some regrets were too hard to go back and think about. “I reckon you’re right about that.” He started for the store, then spun back again. “And thanks for the hire. You’ll get a hard day’s work out of me, and I can promise you there won’t be any need in pointing that pearl-handled pistol my way.”
“Then we’ll get on just fine.”
When he entered the store, the two women who had been buying thread were now almost standing at the door. They were concentrating on the molasses as if they were starving. He’d caught them spying on him, no doubt about it. Women, he thought with mild disgust.
“Ladies,” he drawled, tipping his hat, then moved toward Crandon.
“Did I hear right?” Crandon asked. “Did Katie Pearl just hire you on at her ranch?”
“Yep.”
Shocked gasps erupted from the molasses aisle. He spun to find the women in a tizzy.
“Crazy Katie Pearl has hired a man!” one said, her hand to her cheek.
Women he hadn’t noticed before hurried from other parts of the store.
“A man,” whispered a plump lady in head-to-toe purple. She flapped open her fan and began fanning herself.
Treb looked at Crandon and leaned in with a question for his ears only. “Why are they doing that?”
The proprietor shrugged a shoulder. “Ever since the tornado Katie hasn’t been . . . herself. Her pa got killed in that tornado and she’s been peculiar ever since. Don’t want nothing to do with folks. And I mean nothing.” Crandon shook his head. “It’s a bad situation.”
Treb didn’t feel comfortable talking about the poor woman so he kept his mouth shut—but he was about to spend time out there with Katie Pearl.
“She was trapped under her house, you know,” one lady offered.
“For days,” the purple-clad one added. “Poor thing lay in the dark all alone talking to herself. It was just terrible.”
Treb felt a knuckle in his gut thinking about it.
Another lady hiked a brow as she gave him the once-over. “She’s done nothing but threaten to shoot every man who’s looked at her twice since then, and heaven forbid one ask for her hand in marriage. Why, it’s indecent, I tell you! A young girl like her needs a husband’s protection. Don’t you agree?”
“Especially if she’s going to hire help all by herself,” another added, her lips turned down in a frown.
Treb had heard enough. He tugged his hat down low. “Ma’am, I’m her hired help. I don’t reckon it much matters what I think.” With that said, he laid his money on the counter and picked up the tin of peppermints he’d come in to purchase. He had a mighty fierce sweet tooth, and he’d learned it never hurt to have a little something on him at all times.
A man never knew when he needed to head off trouble—sometimes it took a gun and sometimes it just took a treat. Suddenly there was a commotion out on the sidewalk.
“I told you to stay away from me, you lily-livered skunk!” Katie Pearl’s voice, distinct and determined, erupted through the doorway. “Just stay right where you are. I want no part of you.”
A flurry of women raced to the window and Marcus Crandon strode to the door. Treb followed, ready to step in if he needed to.
Katie had her gun out and aimed straight at a skinny, shiftless-looking cowpoke who was standing in the street. Treb figured some women might call the man handsome. He didn’t like the man on sight. There was a calculating look in his eyes that instantly made Treb distrust him. And he was good at reading people.
Behind him, across the street, the gathering of cowboys outside the saloon had multiplied.
“Now, Katie darlin’, put that firearm away. All I’m saying is I’d like the chance to court you. You need some help and I’m willing and able—”
“Ha! Willing and able to take my land right out from under me.” She waved her gun at him. “Now move on back over there before I have you high-stepping across that road.”
Anger, and something dangerous that Treb didn’t like, flashed across the man’s face. Lending support, Treb moved past Crandon and onto the boardwalk behind Katie. The cowpoke met his warning gaze, then he turned to storm back toward the other side of the street. He didn’t stop till he’d slammed through the swinging doors of the saloon and several fellas followed him.
Katie had made an enemy today. Treb wondered how many others she’d made before he’d come into town.
She spun back toward the store, her expression grim, the gun still in her hand. A gasp went up behind him. He turned to see feathers and hands waving and ladies scurrying away from the window.
Glancing to see what his boss thought of that, he found wary, gleaming eyes watching him. In a sweeping motion, she holstered her pistol, leaving her hand resting on the pearl handle like a gunslinger. “I’ve spoke my piece. It’s time to head out.”
A young teen had loaded up the back of the wagon. He looked a little nervous, standing there, off to the side.
“Mister,” he whispered low, “you best get on with it before trouble starts. That there fella won’t take kindly to being talked to li
ke that in public.”
Treb glanced across the street, making sure no others were going to come calling on Katie. Who in his right mind would do that anyway? Hadn’t they seen how she was acting?
Treb didn’t pick up his pace as he took in the bewildered expressions on the men’s faces. He had to agree, until he got a handle on what he’d gotten himself into, he planned on keeping his focus on doing the job he’d been hired to do, getting his money, and heading out on his new horse as soon as possible.
“You ready?” Katie Pearl asked as he rounded the end of the wagon. Those wary cornflower-blue eyes slammed into him and knocked the breath right out of him. “We’re wasting daylight.”
“You driving or am I?” he asked, not at all happy about the way those eyes of hers were affecting him. He’d seen blue eyes before, but there was something different about hers . . .
What was it about these eyes? They’re crazy, maybe?
He ignored the echoing voice in his head. Maybe it was that behind their startling color and the warning to keep away, he saw a powerful lonesomeness. He knew about being lonesome, had learned to head it off at the pass when it tried to grab hold of him. For the most part he’d made his peace with it.
She didn’t look like she had.
Grabbing the rail, she climbed up and sat down on the seat and looked at him. “Myrtle May’s driving. She always does.” She gave him a half grin that almost made him smile.
Almost. “Who is Myrtle May?” he asked, climbing up beside her.
She pointed at the gray horse hitched to the wagon. “Let’s go home, Myrtle May. Hold on, Cowboy.”
Her warning came almost too late because the horse shot off as if it were in a race. The jolt sent Katie and Treb slamming hard into each other. Katie bounced off of him and nearly toppled over the edge of the wagon. Treb threw his arm around her and yanked her back against him.
Four Weddings and a Kiss Page 14
