Love Finds You in Sundance, Wyoming (5 page)

She nodded. “That’s what I thought. No one else would either. I don’t have any formal schooling, so I can’t teach. I’ve never learned to sew, cook, or any of the things women do.” She stared at him coolly. “So what kind of job would that leave me?”

Heat rose in his cheeks. Only one occupation remained. “I apologize for my remarks. They were—inappropriate.”

She rested the rifle butt on the ground and gripped the muzzle. “They were. But you wouldn’t have hired me if you hadn’t heard about my ability to track, ride, and shoot. I hope you’re not going back on your offer.”

He shook his head, regret coursing through him, but it couldn’t be helped. “I’m afraid I am, Miss Ramirez. I don’t intend to hire a woman to do a man’s job, no matter how good a shot you are.”

“Why not? I’ve done it for three years.”

Nate shifted at Travis’s side. “Boss?”

Travis gave a slight shake of his head. “Just a minute, Nate.” He turned back to the girl. “You did it under false pretenses.”

Nate stepped forward. “Boss, give me a minute.”

Travis pushed down his irritation. His foreman had proven his wisdom over the past few years, and he’d do well to listen. “All right. What?”

“The ranch is getting overrun with wolves, and Arizona spotted a mountain lion yesterday. We don’t got a lot of choice at the moment.”

“You’re suggesting we hire this woman?”

Angel stiffened. “My name is Angel Ramirez, not ’this woman.’”

Travis gave a slow nod. “My apologies, ma’am.”

Nate tipped his head to the side. “I do. Leastwise, for now. If she can track ‘em, the boys can clean ‘em out. Plus, we got some rank horses needing work.”

“I don’t like it. She might come recommended, but she’s still a woman.”

Angel took a step toward him. “And that’s a problem—why?”

Travis whipped off his hat and slapped it against his leg. “You saw how the men reacted. It’s different with Libby, her being my sister and newly widowed and all. You’ll create all sorts of havoc among my cowboys. Besides, you can’t sleep in the bunkhouse.”

Angel shrugged. “I stay clear of the men. The job is all I care about. And I
never
stay in a bunkhouse. I live on the range.”

“That may have worked before, but not now. I can’t have the men sneaking out at night trying to find your camp so they can spark you.”

She bristled. “No one gets close to my camp, day or night, without me knowing it. And I don’t flirt with men.”

Travis shook his head. “I won’t have you sleeping out unless you’re at least a half day’s ride from the ranch. If I let you stay on, you’ll have to take a room in the house.”

Angel started to protest, but Travis stopped her. “That’s my condition. My sister will act as chaperone when I’m at home. I’ll give you the job until I find someone else, but you stay at the house. Agreed?”

Angel bit her lip. Her face reflected her struggle, and sympathy tugged at his heart, but he didn’t relent. It was bad enough agreeing to let her stay on, but he’d be hog-tied if he’d allow her to sleep on the range with his men within easy riding distance.

“All right. But I don’t cook or clean, and I don’t aim to learn. I track critters and break horses. Period. You and your sister had best understand, or I’ll move on.”

Travis closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and slowly nodded. “Understood. Now I just have to break the news to Libby.”

Angel glared at Travis Morgan. The nerve of the man. If she’d be such a burden on his sister, why insist she live in the house? If she had another job lined up, she’d hit the saddle. But she didn’t. A feeling of helplessness flooded Angel. She detested not having any options. “Don’t worry about it.” Angel made a hasty decision and met Travis’s gaze. “I’ll find something else. No need to upset your sister by asking a stranger to share her home.”

Travis studied her. “That’s not necessary. This is
my
home, and Libby will welcome anyone I choose to invite. Besides, it’s not for long.”

Angel’s knuckles tingled. She was glad she’d punched him. He still didn’t believe she could do the job. “Fine. I’m not happy about staying here, either. But I’ll earn my keep. I’ll not give you reason to regret you hired me, even if the job only lasts a few days.”

“Could you“—he hesitated and glanced toward the ranch house— “wait here a few minutes?”

She shrugged. “I’m in no hurry.”

He strode across the dirt clearing and didn’t look back. He opened the front door of the house and closed it carefully behind him. Libby had seemed nice enough, but Angel wouldn’t lay any bets on the woman welcoming her—even if the house belonged to her brother. The few women at the outlaw stronghold were jealous of the little they owned and guarded it closely. Some had shown her kindness when she was young but treated her differently when she showed signs of impending womanhood. No. She couldn’t see this sister of Travis Morgan welcoming a strange woman into her domain, regardless of whose name appeared on the deed.

A boot tramped on the packed ground behind her. She slipped her fingers around the butt of her gun and waited. No one spoke, but she sensed the person shifting his weight and edging closer. She whipped the revolver out of her holster and spun around, holding the weapon waist high. “What do you want?”

A wide-eyed boy gaped at her, and his hands slowly rose to chest height. “Please don’t shoot, lady. I didn’t mean any harm.”

Angel stared for a moment, then holstered her gun. “It isn’t a good idea to sneak up on a person. Who are you?”

The color slowly returned to the boy’s face. “James. My uncle Travis owns this ranch.” He straightened his shoulders. “I’ve never seen a woman in men’s clothes before.”

“Well, now you have. Didn’t your mama teach you it’s not polite to stare? You should close your mouth before something flies into it.” The way the boy looked at her rankled. Were all the men on this ranch either rude or ignorant?

“Why are you dressed that way?” He ran his tongue over his lips. “Would you really have shot me?”

She tipped her head to the side. “I’ve never killed a little kid yet, and I don’t aim to start now.”

James’s head jerked up. “I’m not a kid. I’m thirteen years old— almost a grown man. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I track varmints and work horses. I can’t very well do that in a dress, now can I?” She allowed a small smile to tilt up the corner of her lips.

“What kind of varmints? Wolves?” An eager light sprang to his eyes.

“Yes. Wolves, coyotes, cougars, bear—depending on what’s killing the stock. I understand a couple of wolf packs are working this area.”

“I shot at one a week ago. Uncle Travis lent me his rifle.” The excited expression faded. “But I missed.”

Angel glanced toward the door. Still no sign of anyone stirring. She could only imagine the conversation between Travis and his sister. She turned back to the boy. “We all miss sometimes. It takes practice to shoot well. I didn’t hit the first target I shot at, either.” No sense in telling him it was a cougar that had pulled down a colt the band acquired in the dead of the night.

“Would you teach me to shoot?” James took a step forward and eyed her gun.

Angel raised both hands and shook her head. “Not my job, boy. That’s up to your uncle. I was hired to track varmints and break horses, not mollycoddle youngsters.” His face fell, and Angel immediately regretted her words. She’d gotten along with most of the children raised in the band, so why be ornery with this one? “Of course, if I ever have time…”

James’s mouth broke into a wide smile. “Golly, thanks! Are you sleeping in the bunkhouse?”

Angel stifled a chuckle. “No. That wouldn’t be—appropriate. I’ll be staying in a spare room in your uncle’s house. And I don’t know for how long. Until he finds someone else to do my job, I guess.”

The hair on Angel’s arms prickled. She whirled around just as someone cleared his throat. She stared into the eager faces of two of the cowboys who’d watched her earlier.

Libby stood with her arms folded. “That—girl—is going to live
where?”

Travis sighed. “I can’t let her stay in the bunkhouse with the men and it’s not safe for her to sleep out on the range. That leaves one option—my house.”

She sank onto the sofa in the large living area and drew a pillow onto her lap. “But she’s been sleeping on the range for the past three years. What does it matter if she continues?” Her fingers tightened around the embroidered fabric, and she forced them to relax.

“Because she was masquerading as a man, but now everyone knows she’s a woman. It wouldn’t be safe for her to sleep outside.”

“You don’t trust your own men?”

A muscle in Travis’s jaw clenched. “Yes. But she’s an attractive woman—or would be if she dressed properly—and she might be a temptation for some of the men to—visit.” He walked over to his favorite stuffed chair and sat. “It’s not like she’ll be here long, Libby. I don’t see why it needs to be a problem.”

She bit her lip. Sometimes her brother could be so thick-headed. “So you’ve decided to hire her?”

“For the time being—until someone qualified turns up.”

“I find it hard to believe that a woman can do an adequate job.” She wrinkled her nose. “Tracking and killing predators out on the range. It’s such a horrible occupation, and so unladylike.”

“I’m not hiring her to kill the varmints, Lib, just spot them. My cowboys will take care of cleaning them out, but I can’t spare the men to track every wolf, bear, and cat threatening my herd.”

A thought propelled her forward on her seat. “I have an idea, Travis.” Real hope surged through her heart for the first time since she’d arrived at this lonely wasteland.

He raised one brow. “Go ahead.”

“She can work in the house. I need someone to help with the cooking and cleaning, and this girl would be ideal.”

Travis shook his head. “No. She has a job, and she’ll be at it most of the day—sometimes well into the evening.”

Libby pushed down a frown. “All of the men take two meals here, and Smokey can’t keep up with all the work. I help clean up after we’re finished, and do all the laundry, as well as changing the linens and trying to keep up with the dust that blows in, and the mud you track in. Think of the time I could give to the garden. We’d have fresh vegetables instead of relying on so many canned items from the store.”

“I’m sorry, but I made a promise when I hired her. She said she won’t do household chores and I agreed. I’m in a bind and don’t have a choice.”

Frustration rose in Libby’s breast and she scowled, not caring if it made him angry. “You can pay for a woman to track down poor animals, but you can’t hire any household help?” She jumped from her seat. “I’m sorry you think so little of your own family, Travis.”

“That’s enough, Lib. You know she’s not tracking down ‘poor animals,’ but deadly wolves killing my stock. The very same stock whose sale puts food on the table and keeps this place going. Besides, she’ll be busy riding some of the young horses, as well.” He grasped the arms of the chair and pushed to his feet. “The time might come when we bring a woman in to help, but not now. I imagine Miss Ramirez will take care of her own laundry, although she doesn’t appear to have an abundance of clothing. Any other household chores will continue to fall on you.”

When he walked toward the door, hopelessness swamped Libby. This Western life was too hard, too demanding. Papa had catered to everything Mother wanted when Libby was growing up—but then after Mother’s death, he’d changed too. As much as she loved Travis, she wouldn’t have chosen to live here instead of with Papa, but Papa had grown so cold and demanding these past few years.

Loneliness had been her constant companion after her husband’s death. She’d hoped to make a friend in the area, but the ranches were so far apart, and one church service per week didn’t afford much time to get acquainted. Most of the women had their own households to look after and couldn’t traipse around the country visiting heartsick widows.

She’d make the best of these circumstances with this new employee. Maybe the woman was lonely, as well, and in need of a friend. Surely when Miss Ramirez finished her outside chores, she’d understand the need to help inside—and work shared by a friend always seemed lighter. Yes. Her mood lifted, and hope surged into her mind. Living in this desolate wilderness might be endurable now. This new situation could easily be an answer to her prayers.

Angel rested her palm lightly on the butt of her revolver as the two cowboys edged closer. The tall, blond, handsome one covered the remaining few yards with a long stride while the short, bowlegged cowboy hobbled along beside him. Both wore horsehair chaps, dusty boots, and the tall one had a gun on his hip. A day’s stubble edged the jaw of the shorter man, while the other’s shone as though recently groomed. If it weren’t for the gun, she’d think the man a dandy.

They halted a couple of yards away and stared, then leaned close together and whispered. The short one raised his hands, grinned, and backed off a step. The well-built cowpoke hooked his thumbs into the leather waistband of his chaps and sauntered forward. “Howdy, ma’am. Nice day, ain’t it?” He grinned and waited for her reply.

Angel gawked at the man, then swung her gaze to his partner. What did they want? She relaxed her grip on her revolver.

As the silence stretched, the man’s grin faded, and a red stain crept up his neck and into his cheeks. He dropped his head and scuffed his boot in the dust. “Guess I didn’t learn the manners my mama tried to teach me.” His shoulders squared, and he raised his chin. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, I shoulda introduced myself.”

His friend grabbed his arm and hissed close to his ear, “Let’s slope out of here. You done made an idj’t of yerself.” They took a step back, the shorter man still clutching the taller one’s arm.

Angel broke from her stupor. “Wait. What
are
your names?”

The bowlegged cowboy’s ears turned pink, and he yanked the hat from his head. “I’m Wren, and this here long drink of water is Arizona.”

The cowboy in question withdrew his hat and bowed from the waist, leaning over until his sombrero almost swept the ground. He rose back up and laid his hat over his heart. “I am mighty pleased to meet you, ma’am. Sorry we got off on the wrong foot.” Arizona shot a quick glance at Wren and took a step toward Angel. “You’re some handy with that sidearm and rifle, and a purty woman to boot. Where’d you learn to shoot so good?”

Angel’s smile faded. “My uncle taught me.”

Wren edged closer. “He must be a fine man. Don’t know too many uncles what would learn a girl to shoot.”

She stiffened. “Yes.” These two cowpokes were getting too personal. “I need to get my things.” Angel turned on her heel and strode toward her horse. Time to put Bella up and find her a bait of grain.

“Aw, Wren, why’d you have to go and spook her? She was just warming up to us and you spoiled it.” Arizona’s drawl drifted after Angel as she sought refuge inside the barn.

Travis let the front door bang behind him. Maybe he should ease up on Libby and not expect so much. After all, she’d experienced a difficult loss a short time ago and was still adjusting to Western life. He settled his hat onto his head. Time to regain control of this day.

Heading toward the barn, he drew up short. James was standing at the nearly closed door of the barn, peeking inside. “James! What’re you doing?”

The boy leapt as if shot. “Nothin’, Uncle Travis. Honest.”

“I hope you’re not bothering Miss Ramirez.”

“She’s going to help me learn to shoot better.”

Travis wagged his head and stifled a groan. “I didn’t hire her to spend time with you.”

The boy dropped his eyes but not before Travis saw a glint of something—anger…rebellion?

James spun away from Travis. “I’ll go see if Ma needs me.” He raced away from the barn.

It was bad enough that his cowboys were smitten with the woman, but James as well? He hoped the boy wasn’t spying on Angelo. Angel. Miss Ramirez. He ground his teeth. What was he supposed to call the woman, anyway? Most of the men had nicknames, or went by their last name. No one stood on formality with a hand on a ranch, but he didn’t see himself calling her Angel. What kind of name was that for a girl, anyway?