The food was excellent. He had a feeling the middle daughter of Teagen McMurray had a great deal to do with not only the meal, but the running of the house. She’d been the one to show each man to his room in what she called “the old part of the house.” Rose McMurray was striking with her long black hair and dark eyes, but he’d already guessed she was one of those women who didn’t realize her own beauty or its effect on men. He watched her play the hostess for the evening, making sure everyone was served. He could almost see himself married to her. He wouldn’t have to worry about her skills at running a house, and she’d be most pleasant to take to bed—once they were married, of course.
He almost laughed aloud. All this fresh air was doing him no good. He was starting to believe in his own dreams.
The youngest of the three had introduced herself as Beth, but Lewt noticed the others called her Bethie as though she were still a child and not a woman fully grown. She had wonderful auburn hair that curled about her pretty face. Her green eyes seemed to hold laughter in their depths. Lewt found himself smiling every time she looked at him. She’d give him beautiful children, he decided, since he was imagining. He could see himself dancing with Beth, and she’d be accepted and loved by all. Beth would always be the belle of the ball.
Emily, the oldest, didn’t have Beth’s beauty or Rose’s skills at running everything, but she did have a shy charm about her. Rose said that Emily loved horses. If he chose her, his house would be quiet and probably peaceful. Who knows, they might even build a summer place on the ranch so she could be near the horses she loved. She was also taller than her sisters, and he thought she’d look grand on his arm as they walked through downtown Austin.
As he watched Emily, he noticed she didn’t look up at Boyd when he talked of horses. Either she wasn’t as interested in horses as her sister thought, or she wasn’t interested in Boyd. The latter Lewt found more possible.
Lewt smiled to himself. Who knew, maybe he could outcharm both Boyd and Davis, and then he’d pick which girl would suit him best. He’d pay her compliments and carry her around on a pillow all week and by Thursday or Friday, they’d be making a trip to town to talk to the preacher. Or, if Reverend Watson hadn’t turned in his license when he retired, maybe he’d do the honors in this very room. Lewt guessed her family would want a big wedding that would take weeks to plan, but he’d insist he couldn’t wait and he was sure she’d go along. When the train headed back to Austin next Saturday, one of these ladies would be his wife before anyone had time to look into his past.
Lewt laughed to himself. If dreams were gold, he was getting richer by the minute.
If he were married, his bride and he would stay at a nice, respectable hotel, or maybe with her uncle, the judge, until he found a suitable house. Then he’d . . .
“Mr. Paterson, would you like a slice of cake?”
Lewt stared at Rose for a moment. He’d been so lost in his plan, he’d forgotten about the others. “Yes, thank you, Miss McMurray.”
“Please,” Rose said loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. “We’ll get very confused if you spend the entire week calling all three of us by Miss McMurray. Don’t you think it would be all right to go by our first names?”
“I don’t know about that,” Mrs. Watson said, playing her part as chaperone, but the others agreed that as long as the
Miss
remained, it would be proper to switch to first names. They were already introducing themselves all over again before Mrs. Watson could get in another objection.
Davis’s mother, Mrs. Allender, giggled and declared, “Now we have a party. Much better than a formal dinner.”
Rose smiled down at Lewt as she handed him a slice of cake. “I’m Miss Rose,” she said just to him. “Just plain Rose.”
“Lewton, but friends call me Lewt, and there is nothing about you, sweet Miss Rose, that is plain.” She was the one, he decided as he watched her move on to the next guest. She’d be everything he’d want in a wife.
Beth leaned across the table and offered her hand. “Please, Lewt, call me Beth.”
Lewt took her small hand in his. The view from her not-so-modest neckline when she leaned over was just low enough to be interesting. “I will,” he said, thinking he might as well say
I do
right now. He had no idea what love was, but this was probably as close as he’d ever get to it. Her skin was creamy smooth and her eyes the color of summer green. Miss Beth was the one.
Then shy Emily took his hand. She was polite and charming, but not overly friendly. She’d make him earn her love, and he liked a challenge. She was the kind of woman a man would never want to raise his voice around. She’d be a treasure to have at his side.
Hell
, he thought,
I might as well become Mormon and marry all three of them
. The problem wasn’t going to be figuring out which one he wanted. The problem was trying to determine which one to leave behind. It crossed his mind that maybe all women outside saloons were like this. No wonder their fathers and brothers and even cousins watched them so carefully.
Lewt sat back and tried to enjoy the cake but found himself jealous whenever Boyd or Davis even looked at any of the Misses McMurray. By the time the men went up the stairs to their three rooms and the women circled through the kitchen to a staircase leading to the new wing of the house, Lewt decided he’d go mad this week. The only two women he didn’t want tonight were Mrs. Watson, the drunken chaperone who sported a mustache thicker than most men could manage, and Mrs. Allender, who was so wide it would take two men to get their arms around the lady.
Reverend Watson said that everyone could sleep in tomorrow morning because of the late night, but anyone interested could find coffee in the kitchen if they rose early, and he added that there would be a prayer service served with the biscuits. The old preacher seemed to think his role was head of the household, but none of the McMurrays appeared to feel that way. Lewt had an idea that these women were used to having their own way. The thought crossed his mind that if Walter Freeport the Fourth had slapped any one of them, he’d be shot dead before he could lower his hand.
Boyd Sinclair, since he hadn’t slept the night before, planned to take the preacher’s advice and sleep the clock around. Davis commented that he wanted his mother to rest, so he planned to spend the morning reading in his room.
Five hours later, Lewt was up at dawn. He didn’t care if everyone else slept. He needed to get to know the ranch. From the dinner conversation he’d figured out that they all loved the land, so it made sense that he learn as much as he could about how the place was run. Everything he learned, every step he took this week would help him if he ever got the chance to walk away from gambling and become a respectable businessman.
He dressed in the black suit that he’d already grown tired of and followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen.
At first he thought a lean man dressed in work clothes stood by the stove, but as she moved, he recognized the grace of a woman.
“Pardon me,” he said. “I’m sorry, I thought . . .”
She turned toward him, the black hat she wore hiding most of her face in the shadowy room. “You’re in the right place if you want coffee, stranger. I was just leaving.”
Lewt took a step into the room, then stopped as he spotted a gun hanging low on her side. “I can come back later.”
“Suit yourself. I always come in for coffee before I ride out to check the herd.”
“You work here?”
The woman grinned. “My papa knew horses and he taught me. I’ve worked the McMurray horses for years.”
Lewt moved closer and pulled a cup off the shelf. “You live here on the ranch?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, stranger, but I still live with my folks.”
“Oh,” he said, thinking this place must be big enough to have a dozen houses tucked away in the trees or around the other side of the hills. If she rode in and wanted coffee, it made sense that she’d stop in here and not bother with the bunkhouse. For all he knew, she might even be friends with the women here. If she was and she knew ranching, she’d be a gold mine to him.
She filled his cup with what looked like coffee strong enough to pass for soup. “There’s bread on the table, but breakfast usually doesn’t happen for a few more hours. I’ll be in the north pasture by then.”
He watched her make herself at home, and he did the same. When she cut a thick slice of bread and added butter and jelly, he borrowed the knife and did the same. For a while, they ate in silence.
“I’m Lewt,” he finally said. “You got a name?”
“Yep,” she said between bites.
“Mind telling me?”
“Em,” she said. “Folk just call me Em.”
“Well, M.” It was far too early to try to figure out why her parents gave her an initial for a name. “Mind if I ask you a favor?”
“You can ask.” She lowered her hat, but he swore he saw her smile for a second. “I’m not partial to handing out favors to strangers.”
“We’re not strangers, M. We’ve had breakfast together.”
No reaction from the woman, who didn’t seem to have a friendly bone in her slender body.
“I was just wondering if I could ride out to the herd with you. I’d like to look around. You know, get to know the lay of the land. Maybe learn more about ranching.”
Her head rose slightly, and he knew she was looking at his city suit and thin leather half boots.
“It’s cold out there.”
“I’ll survive.” When he’d borrowed Four’s clothes, he hadn’t thought he’d be doing much riding.
“Can you stay in the saddle?”
“I’ll manage.”
“I don’t know. I like working alone. You’d just be in the way.”
“I swear, I won’t even talk to you.” He wished he could tell her he figured he’d be nuts by noon if he had to spend the morning talking to the Watsons about the good old days or Mrs. Allender about her bird’s illness. “I got to do something.”
“You could help cook,” Em said.
“Come on, give me a break. I know even less about cooking than I do about ranching. I may never have this chance again. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to work on a ranch. I’ll do my best to make you a good hand for the day.”
She stood as if to leave.
“How about we flip for it.” He pulled the double eagle from his pocket. “Heads, you take me with you for the day. Tails, I’ll never speak to you again, I swear.”
She shrugged. “It’d be worth the gamble, I guess.”
He flipped the coin. “Heads,” he said, without looking at the coin.
She snorted. “Well, then, we’d better get going.”
He followed her out the back door, wondering if he’d made a mistake. It had to be near freezing, and the material of his suit would be lucky to make it to noon without ripping.
She didn’t seem to care, and he figured he could handle being cold for a few hours. In truth, the look she gave him was probably colder than any norther blowing in.
When she reached the barn, she asked Sumner to saddle him a horse, then tossed him an old work coat that had been hanging on the barn wall.
The old wool smelled like the inside of a barn, and Lewt wondered if it hadn’t been the home of more than one mouse.
“You’re welcome to this if you want it,” she said.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was testing him. If she was, he had no intention of failing.
Straw and who knew what else was sticking to the material of the coat in several places, but Lewt tugged it on.
When he looked up, he saw her eyes for the first time. She was tall, almost his height, with a long straight nose and light blue eyes. To his surprise, she was looking at him as if fully expecting him to refuse the coat.
“Thanks,” he said, trying to button it across his chest. He had nothing to prove to this woman. He didn’t even care what she thought of him, but she seemed the only one around who could teach him what he needed to know to be able to talk to the beautiful McMurray sisters. Davis was from a big farming family, so he’d know all about running an operation like this, and Boyd’s love of horses had made him the leader in most of the conversations at dinner.
Lewt knew how to gamble, how to play the odds, how to stay out of bar fights, and how to collect the table money fast if a fight broke out, but he knew little about ranching. He was a fast learner, though. This woman dressed in men’s clothing and wearing a gun already disliked him. If he asked her dumb questions, she didn’t look like she could think much less of him.
As Sumner brought his horse up, the woman moved to her mount and swung up with easy grace.
The old man held the horse’s head as Lewt tried to climb on the half-wild animal. “Give him his head,” Sumner whispered. “He’ll follow Miss Em’s horse.”
Lewt, who rarely rode, managed to climb on his mount without making a fool of himself. They were out of the barn at a speed that almost knocked him off the horse. The house was out of sight before he felt like he gained control of his mount or got into the rhythm of the run.
A mile later he smiled when he realized what joy it was to ride a fine horse. The animal moved to his slightest command. The woman a few lengths in front of him used no whip or spurs. She didn’t need to. These animals were born to run. He just hoped he was born to ride, because he didn’t know if he could find the ranch house if he fell off, and he had no doubt this M woman would leave him behind.
The sun rose, spreading golden across the winter land. When Lewt finally had time to look at his surroundings, he was amazed at the wild beauty of the place. He could only imagine how grand it must be in summer when everything was green.
The woman finally slowed and glanced back at him. She seemed surprised he was still there.
She didn’t speak or give him any hint of where they were going. He didn’t ask. He simply followed and studied his surroundings. Most of his life he’d traveled by stage or train, but the dirt trails and rails passed no view as grand as this one. They crossed streams, slowed to a walk along wooded paths, and ran full-out in pastures.