Lionhearted Libby

by Joyce Armor

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “He was a brave young man,” his mother smiled sadly. “What about you, señorita? Do you want children?”

  Libby stopped on the steps, her shoulders slumping. “I would have liked to have had children, but I don’t think I’ll ever get married.”

  “But why? I think you were meant to marry and have many children.”

  “I don’t want anyone ordering me around ever again.” She turned around then and headed back up the stairs. “I’d better get on with my chores.”

  Carmen watched her walk away. This one was made for marriage and children. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she called after her. “Garrett would like to see you on the veranda at 5 o’clock.”

  “But why?” And why did the thought of meeting him on the veranda make her feel panicky?

  “You will have to ask him.”

  Libby spent the rest of the day cleaning, dusting and changing bedding. She also washed the bedding in a tub with heated water and hung everything outside to dry. After that, she went over the household grocery purchases with Carmen, a task she would be taking on from here on out. Despite her promise, she missed the lunchtime meal because she was up in her room soaking her feet, thinking about Garrett and dreading their meeting.

  Why did he want to talk to her? Had he found out who she was? Was he going to threaten her and force her to leave? She had tried to figure out which of the six bedrooms was his but finally realized he must stay in the bunkhouse with the hands. That made sense, she guessed, especially since he seemed young to be a foreman. He probably would do whatever he needed to do to gain the men’s respect. Ha! He was not trying very hard to gain her respect. Not trying at all, in fact. Apparently he was going out of his way to annoy her. And it was working.

  Carmen seemed determined throughout the day to tell Libby about Garrett, so she learned he had shown up at the ranch at age 15, alone in the world. Her heart ached for that lonely and belligerent boy, but that did not mean she appreciated his surly attitude now. She was actually dusting the beautiful grandfather clock in the hallway outside Jackson’s study when it began chiming, announcing 5 o’clock. With her heart in her throat, she tucked her dust rag into her apron pocket and trudged toward the front door, feeling like she was heading toward her doom.

  Libby had been sitting in one of the wicker chairs on the veranda for 10 minutes, which seemed like two hours, trying to look a lot less nervous than she felt, when she decided she’d done her duty and waited long enough. But before she could even get out of the chair, she heard the pounding of approaching hooves and Garrett appeared in a hail of dust. He vaulted out of the saddle as a stable boy ran up and took the reins.

  She tried not to notice how truly magnificent and so very masculine he looked during this display of a cowboy in all his glory. He took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh, releasing more dust in the air as he clomped up the stairs.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said.

  “Oh, I didn’t notice,” she replied, lifting her chin slightly.

  “How was your day?”

  “Busy.”

  Okay, she was not going to make this easy. Like most men, Garrett did not find it comfortable to apologize in the first place, and he searched for the right words as he slowly paced in front of her. He had not yet found them when Carmen came out with a tray with a pitcher and two glasses.

  “Lemonade,” she smiled.

  “Oh, Carmen, that’s so thoughtful of you. Thank you,” Libby gushed.

  Garrett sat. Carmen stared at him for a moment and he stared right back. Finally, she shook her head and went back into the house. Libby poured the lemonade and handed him a glass.

  “Thank you.” He took a long drink, and she watched in fascination as his Adam’s apple moved slowly up and down. He still didn’t speak. She took a swallow of the cold drink. Then she took a second and third swallow, all the while looking at him warily. “Is there a reason you wanted to meet me now?”

  “Yes.” He stood suddenly. “Yes.”

  She raised her eyebrows in anticipation.

  “We got off on the wrong foot.”

  “Yes, because you were mean.”

  “I was mean?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “All right, I admit I was not as nice as I could have been. I’m sorry. I just…well, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings and I’m sorry about last night.”

  Inwardly, Libby breathed a sigh of relief and perhaps outwardly too, as Garrett saw a look of what seemed like utter relief on her face. Now that was interesting.

  “Thank you. I accept your apology,” she said rather formally, rising. “I need to get cleaned up for supper.” She opened the door to go in and then turned back to Garrett. “I hope we can be friends.” Highly unlikely. Nigh unto impossible.

  “Can you ride?”

  “Horses?”

  “Well, anybody can ride a wagon or buggy.”

  So much for being nice. That lasted all of a minute. “Yes, I can ride.”

  “I have to go into town in the morning. Would you like to join me? You can’t make a full shopping trip because I’m not taking the wagon, but you could pick up a few things if you need them. I’m going early, about 8 o’clock.”

  She hesitated.

  “It will do you good to get out.”

  She really wanted to go. “All right, I think I would enjoy that, and that would get me back in time to do a full day’s work.” She started to head inside.

  “We don’t have a side saddle.”

  “I don’t need one,” she said and disappeared inside.

  Garrett looked at the door long after she’d gone. Now why did he go and do that? He told himself it was to have more time to investigate her, to see what she was really up to. He had to admit though, in spite of himself, he found Libby intriguing. But that didn’t mean he trusted her. Or ever would.

  * * *

  Libby smiled as she donned the dark brown breeches that had belonged to one of Carmen’s sons. The cook also had given her a white cotton shirt, which she knotted at her waist and then rolled the sleeves up. Over this ensemble, she put on her cloak, which would cover the outrageous attire once she got to town. Thankfully, it would be early morning so it wouldn’t be too hot yet.

  As they left the ranch behind and climbed out of the valley, Garrett watched Libby ride surprisingly competently in the breeches that hugged her so backside so provocatively. “I’m surprised you can ride astride,” he said.

  The comment annoyed her, as he seemed to have made all these wrong assumptions about her. “I spent a great deal of time alone when I was growing up,” she said, almost haughtily. “Our stable master was an old cowboy from Texas. I’m sure my father…my stepfather…would not have tolerated him if he had not been so good with horses.”

  “I don’t think Texas cowboys think much of side saddles.”

  “That’s the truth,” Libby chuckled. “I became friends with Sam and he’s the one who trained me to ride astride…when my stepfather was not around.”

  “Well, he did a good job.”

  She didn’t want him to see how unreasonably pleased she felt at the compliment and changed the subject. “Where did you grow up, Garrett?”

  “Kansas,” he answered. “Let’s canter.” He took off.

  So much for a discussion of his youth. Two could play that game, she thought as she kicked her horse into a gallop to catch up with him and then slowed to a canter. Then she took the time to look around her at the startlingly blue sky and green hills that seemed to be almost breathing as the breeze riffled through the grass. This was as close to paradise as she had ever seen. It filled her with joy.

  “This is such beautiful country,” Libby sighed. She felt it in her soul, a deep, visceral connection.

  “You’re right about that. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

  Libby spent the rest of the ride into town trying not to notice Garrett’s muscular thighs gripping his
gelding and his beautiful hairy forearms peeking out of the sleeves of his blue plaid shirt. On that ride, she realized that already her life in St. Louis seemed a distant past, as if she could barely remember the city. Perhaps it was because of the heartache associated with it, she decided. Whatever happened from now on, she knew she would never again live in St. Louis.

  Before they reached town, she buttoned her cloak to hide the breeches. Garrett led her to Finn’s Mercantile and stopped. “This is probably where you want to be. I’ll leave my horse here, too, but I’m going to the bank and the feed store as well. How about if I meet you back here in about 30 minutes?”

  “That’s fine,” she said, dismounting and tying her reins to the hitching post. He did the same, then walked off.

  She buttoned the top button of her long cloak as she stood watching him, appreciating his easy gait.

  “He is not for you,” came a familiar irritating voice behind her.

  She turned to see Cindy Lou, looking as voluptuous and slightly wanton as ever in a lime green bodice-hugging, breast-revealing satin gown.

  “Who?” Libby smiled mysteriously, as if she didn’t know.

  “He needs a real woman,” Cindy Lou said, giving Libby a dismissive look.

  “I hope he finds one,” Libby said and walked off.

  What an irritating creature. What could Garrett possibly see in her? Oh, who was she kidding? He saw an hourglass figure, big creamy breasts that practically jumped out and landed in his hands and luminous blond curls, not to mention abounding confidence and a sexuality Libby would probably never possess. Cindy Lou had so discombobulated her, she hadn’t gone into the mercantile as planned but continued to march down the street. She came to Lila’s Dress Shop and stopped. Oh, why not. She went in.

  The quaint little shop held several racks of dresses ranging from simple shifts to a few ball gowns and a table of yard goods. Behind a long, lacquered table that served as a counter sat a young woman who looked to be in her mid-20s. She was stitching a lace border on a yellow dress.

  “You must be Lila,” Libby said.

  “Actually, Lila was my aunt. I inherited the store. I’m Nellie Baxter.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Libby.” She did not want to lie about her last name but did not want to tell the truth either, so she just left it out.

  Libby had never before had the experience, but knew sometimes one just meets someone who becomes an instant friend. Thirty minutes later the two women were laughing and planning to get together soon as Libby left the shop with a package containing three gowns, two that would serve as work frocks and another for when she wanted to look a little more dressed up. As she got back to the mercantile and tied her package on her horse behind the saddle, Garrett approached with a few items he put into his saddlebags.

  “Did you get everything you needed?”

  “Needed? No. Wanted? Yes.”

  He smiled. “Let’s get back to the ranch then.”

  They had both mounted and started off when Libby’s pinto made a strange sound and suddenly began bucking. She valiantly tried to stay on and get the horse under control as Garrett attempted to get close enough to yank her out of the saddle before she fell. Just as he was about to grab her around the waist, the horse gave a tremendous buck and threw her off. As she catapulted into the air and came down, her head glanced off a hitching post and she crumpled to the ground, lifeless, her cloak buttons popping and her breeches on display for all to see.

  Chapter 7

  Garrett jumped off his gelding and ran to Libby as a woman screamed and the banker and two cowpokes started to rush toward her. She lay there in a collapsed heap, looking so lifeless. He moved wisps of her shiny black hair out of her face. Placing his ear on her chest to make sure she was breathing, he felt a moment of shame that he was so aware of her breasts. They were not large, yet they weren’t overly small either. Very firm. He had the errant thought that they were just about right. He forced his mind to halt that line of thinking almost as soon as he had the notion. Then he quickly felt her arms, legs and ribs, trying his best not to notice how good she felt—for God sakes, any young woman would feel good if you were feeling her all over—to determine if she had any broken bones. Satisfied she was in one piece, he looked at the purple knot forming on her forehead as he gently gathered her up in his arms, arranging her cloak over the breeches as best as he could. Libby might appreciate that later. “Get the horses and tie them up at the mercantile, would you, Joe?” he said to one cowpoke as the crowd dispersed to let him through.

  “Sure thing,” the man nodded.

  Garrett carried the unconscious young woman toward Doc Watkins’ office on the other side of the feed store, his heart pounding. What the hell happened? That cayuse was one of Jackson’s most gentle horses.

  At the doctor’s office, Garrett pounded on the door with one hand while supporting Libby with the other. When Lena Watkins, the physician’s kindly wife and nurse, opened it, she stepped immediately aside and Garrett rushed in with his burden. “Where’s the doc?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as anxious as he felt.

  The middle-aged woman tied on a faded white apron as she surveyed the limp figure. “What happened?”

  “She got bucked off her horse and hit her head on the hitching post.”

  Mrs. Watkins gently felt the large purple lump on Libby’s forehead for a moment. She looked closer. “Yes, I see some splinters here.” She studied the lump for a few more moments and then looked at Garrett. “Bring her back to the second room on the left. I’ll get the doc.”

  Libby was so light, like a little pixie, and felt so right in his arms as he carried her to the examining room. That’s ridiculous. He didn’t want to like her. He didn’t even trust her. Then why did you invite her to come with you this morning? He ignored the aggravating thought in his head and gently placed her on the padded table. She was so pale and young looking. And innocent. How could he have treated her so poorly? A moment later, the paunchy, gray-haired Doc Watkins entered the room, making a beeline for his patient.

  “Who is she?”

  “Libby Wagoner. Jackson’s new housekeeper.”

  The doctor nudged Garrett out of the way so he could examine Libby. As he lifted one eyelid and then the other, she began to stir. As the physician examined her body for broken bones, cuts and abrasions, she opened her blue eyes, reminding Garrett of the Montana sky on one of those perfect spring days. What the hell was the matter with him? That sounded like it was right out of one of those mushy novels that women read. He had to stop this. Libby slowly turned toward him, looking confused. “Wh…what happened?”

  Garrett put a hand on your shoulder. “You got bucked off your horse and took a hard fall,” he said. “You hit your head pretty hard.”

  She thought about that for a moment. “Oh…oh, that’s right. Something spooked the horse. I…I tried to hold on. Where am I?”

  “You’re in my office,” said another deep voice she didn’t recognize. “I’m Doc Watkins.” He nudged Garrett out of the way again.

  Libby looked into a pair of warm, twinkly hazel eyes.

  She started to get up. “I’m okay. We should…” A dizzy spell sent her swaying, and the doctor gently pushed her back down onto the pillow.

  “You’re not going anywhere for a while,” he said firmly.

  Three and a half hours later, Libby sat in front of Garrett on his horse, her backside pressed against his front side. It had been a long, long ride from town to the ranch for the virile foreman, who gritted his teeth and concentrated on keeping the alluring, soft, curvy Libby safe. Her limbs were so loose, he had to keep one arm around her at all times lest she slide off the saddle and bounce on the ground. He had tied the reins of her horse to his saddle and had had no problem with it, although it slowed the trip as he worked to keep Libby from falling and both animals safe from gopher holes, snakes and nasty bushes. At last, the entourage climbed the final hill and headed into the valley toward the ranch.


  “Are you still awake?” he nudged his passenger.

  The doctor cautioned him that she needed to stay awake at least until nighttime to make sure she didn’t fall into a coma. And then someone needed to keep an eye on her for any changes in her condition throughout the first night.

  “Yes, I’m awake,” she groaned.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Oh…not as good as I’d like. I suppose I’ve felt worse, though.”

  “I guess we all have. Do you have a headache?”

  “Pounding.”

  “I imagine you’re going to be awfully sore everywhere come tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Garrett.”

  “I was trying to get you off the horse, but I didn’t get there in time.”

  “It was an accident. I’ll be all right. I think I just need a little nap.” And then she straightened a little. “Oh, but I need to work.”

  “You cannot sleep yet. And don’t worry about work.”

  “I cannot lose this job.” Her voice was shaky, like she might begin crying any moment.

  He had no experience with women crying and did not want to start now. “Jackson is a fair man, Libby. He will not punish you for an accident or expect you to work when you’re not feeling well.”

  As they approached the ranch house, Carmen and Jackson came outside.

  “What took you so long? Carmen was worried.”

  “Oh, señor, and you were not?”

  Garrett dismounted and helped Libby down. “Libby’s horse bucked her off in town. She was knocked unconscious and needs to take it easy and stay awake until tonight.”

  “I’m all right. Honestly. Just a little banged up.”

  Carmen hustled forward and helped Libby into the house as the stable boy jogged up to take the horses. Garrett held onto the reins of Libby’s horse.

  “What are you thinking?” Jackson eyed Garrett, knowing that look.

  “She’s a good rider and this horse is as gentle as they come.”