The Cowboy Meets His Match Page 6

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  Chase rode up to the ranch house and dismounted. He’d ridden into town to report the theft of his cattle, for all the good it would do him. A rash of cattle rustling had plagued the county in recent months. Not only had the thefts stymied the local sheriff, but they’d also baffled the Rangers.

  But that wasn’t the only thing that had put him in a bad mood. He’d stopped by the hotel hoping to talk to Cassie Decker, but she’d already checked out. Feeling bad for letting her down, he’d sent her a telegram that he wanted to talk to her. There had to be something he could do to make amends.

  There had been one bright spot in his day. He’d learned the judge was out of town. That meant he was still married, at least for now, and the ranch was still his. It might only be a temporary reprieve, but it gave him time to think up another plan.

  Blast it all! Who was he kidding? The only way to save the ranch was to satisfy the requirements of his father’s will.

  After tying his horse, Rebel, to the rail, Chase walked to the side of the house and rolled up his sleeves. Hanging his hat on a hook, he lowered his hands into the rain barrel all the way to his elbows. The cool water offered a welcome respite from the dust and the heat but did nothing for his dark mood.

  He plunged his head all the way into the water, as much to curtail his troubled thoughts as to cool down his heated body.

  It had been an especially warm winter and was an even warmer spring, with very little rain. That meant a bleak summer ahead.

  Lifting his dripping head out of the barrel, he sputtered and reached for a towel. He wiped his face dry and blinked the water out of his eyes. The sound of footsteps on gravel told him he wasn’t alone. Thinking it was one of the cowhands with news about the rustlers, he turned. Much to his surprise, he found himself staring into the big, blue eyes of his accidental bride.

  Without so much as a howdy-do, she tossed her head and regarded him with a narrowed gaze. “What happens after the year is up?”

  He glanced at the horse and buggy he’d failed to notice earlier. He needed a full moment to make sense of her words. “So, have you given up on an annulment?”

  “The judge is out of town until Friday,” she said. “So again I ask, what happens at the end?”

  Chase stared at her with wary regard. Was she really thinking about staying in the marriage? “Like I told you. Either we stay married, or you give me the gate…eh…divorce,” he said, keeping his voice neutral. He didn’t want to scare her off a second time.

  He couldn’t tell by the look on her face if it was the married part or a possibility of divorce that she found distasteful. True, divorce was still looked down upon by most folks, but it was gradually becoming more acceptable. The only grounds necessary were incompatibility of temperament, which made a divorce easier to attain than an annulment.

  Hanging the towel to dry, he plucked his Stetson off the hook. He raked his fingers through his still-dripping hair before donning his hat. “What happened with Garvey?”

  She moistened her lips. “I decided that perhaps I had acted a bit too…hastily.”

  He shook his head. “So he turned you down, did he?”

  She lifted her chin. “Mr. Garvey is…no longer in a position to take on a wife.”

  “Ah. So you decided to come crawlin’ back here.” He didn’t mean to give her a hard time, but the whole situation had put him in a bad mood.

  She stood straight and refused to wilt beneath his steady gaze. “I am not crawling back. I simply want to know what I would be letting myself in for, should I decide to stay.”

  He considered her query. “Like I said earlier, if’n you stay, I’ll make certain you’ll have enough ballast to start a new life after the year is up.”

  She hesitated before asking, “As your wife, what would my…duties be?”

  He rubbed his chin. Ah, now they were getting down to business. “The usual. I’d expect you to run my household and oversee my social obligations. Of course, you’d also help with the beeves.”

  “Beeves?”

  He frowned. “Cattle.”

  When the puzzled look remained on her face, he explained. “There are certain times of the year that things get hectic around here, and we need all the meat hooks we can get.” Her frown told him he’d lost her again. “All hands are needed,” he said by way of explanation.

  His easygoing manner belied his growing concern. Ranch life was tough. He’d known big, brawny men to break beneath its rigorous demands. What chance did a dainty lady with baby-soft hands and creamy-white skin have of surviving such a life?

  “Have you ever cared for livestock?” he asked. “Cows? Goats…?”

  She shook her head. “I had a cat once.”

  “A cat?”

  “And a bird.”

  He stared at her, incredulous. Of all the women he could have married, he doubted there was one less suited to ranch life. “I don’t think this will work,” he said. “You stayin’ here, I mean.”

  “Why not?” she asked, her eyes ablaze.

  “No offense, ma’am, but this life isn’t for everyone.”

  She lifted her chin. “You said it would be for only a year.”

  “A year’s a long time if you’re somewhere you don’t want to be.”

  She studied him for a moment. “I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

  It was a tough decision. He needed her every bit as much as he suspected she needed him. Still, everything told him it was a bad idea, and he couldn’t help but worry about her welfare and safety. If something happened to her…

  He was just about to send her away when the sudden look of desperation in her eyes made him change his mind. “If you insist on stayin’, there’s not much I can do about it. But don’t say you weren’t warned.”

  She accepted his decision with a nod. “About my duties as your wife…”

  The sudden flare of her cheeks told him that it wasn’t the difficulties of ranch life that worried her. Or even the cattle.

  “The will states that it has to be…a real marriage.” Reminded that only a short while ago, she had threatened to tell the judge he was unable to perform his husbandly duties, he couldn’t help but add, “And I can assure you, that would not be a problem.”

  He paused to both weigh her reaction and gather his thoughts. Here they were, discussing the intimate side of marriage, and he didn’t even know what to call her. Missus sounded too formal, but her Christian name suggested a familiarity neither of them were ready for.

  The color drained from her face. “By a real marriage, you mean—”

  “It’ll have to look that way publicly,” he hastened to assure her, “but privately, I shall…respect your wishes.” It wasn’t the kind of marriage he’d envisioned or even wanted, but beggars didn’t always get to be choosers.

  “You mean if I don’t want—”

  They stared at each other for a full minute. In the short time he’d known her, he’d seen her scared, angry, indignant, and proud, but nothing had affected him as much as the vulnerability now showing in the depths of her long-lashed eyes. A protective surge rushed through him, followed by guilt for giving her such a hard time. As difficult as it was for him to admit needing another’s help, there was no getting around it. If she stayed, she would be doing him a huge favor.

  “I know I’m not the man you planned on marryin’,” he said. “But I promise to do right by you.” When she showed no sign of lowering her guard, he continued. “All I’m askin’ for is a year. If’n for any reason you wish to end the arrangement before the time is up, I’ll not stop you from leavin’. I’ll even pay your way back to Boston, if’n that’s what you want. In return, I ask only that you act like a real wife to me in public. No one must know about our private arrangement.”

  “Why a year?” she asked.

  Chase drew in his breath. The unresolved hostilities with his pa still festered like an open wound. He’d hoped to earn his father’s forgiveness, but now it was too late. Even on his deathbed, his father had not uttered the words Chase had longed to hear.

  “My father had the notion that a man wasn’t settled until he had a wife to support.” Not wanting to go into detail, Chase gave her the least complicated answer he could think of. “Guess the marriage stipulation was his way of makin’ sure his heir stuck to business and did right by the ranch.”

  She mulled over his words with a thoughtful frown. “Didn’t he know how much this ranch means to you?”

  Surprised that she knew that much about him—knew what even his father hadn’t known—Chase was momentarily speechless. “I once gave him reason to doubt me,” he said after a long moment. “Doubt my loyalty to the ranch.”

  “I see,” she said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “So, what do you say?”

  She lifted her chin, and this time, the eyes meeting his were as bold as a charging bull’s. “If I agree to stay, do I have your word that you will not try to claim your physical rights as a husband?”

  He studied her with keen interest. Never had he met a woman of such extremes. One moment, she appeared vulnerable, and the next instant, she looked ready to fight him tooth and nail. “You have my word,” he said. “And I trust that I have your word that you won’t get jealous, should I assert my husbandly rights on another?”

  He wouldn’t, of course. Due to his father’s will, he had to take this sham of a marriage seriously. He also happened to believe that marriage, even one as precarious as this one, deserved fidelity. Still, he couldn’t resist challenging her as she’d challenged him.

  Much to his chagrin, she didn’t blink an eyelash. “You wouldn’t risk the ranch for a meaningless dalliance,” she said, her expression daring him to contradict her.

  It irritated him that he was still trying to figure her out, and she already had him fully pegged.

  “Should you demand…marital privileges, our deal is off,” she added with meaning. “Do I make myself clear?”

  Confound it! The woman was beginning to sound like a Philadelphy lawyer. Still, she was offering him a chance to save the ranch, and he’d be a fool not to take it. “Oh yes,” he said tersely. “Quite clear.”

  “So?” she asked, taking the bull by the tail. “Do we have an agreement?”

  “Depends,” he said, studying her.

  She narrowed her eyes. “On what?”

  “Whether I can trust you to ride for the brand.”

  “I told you, I don’t ride.”

  Not used to having to explain himself, Chase tried not to let his irritation show. “‘To ride for the brand’ means to put the ranch first and foremost. Long as you’re here.”

  She hesitated. “If that’s what you want,” she said at last and held out her hand like a man accustomed to closing lucrative business deals.

  The woman continued to amaze. She might be afraid of mice, but there was definitely more to her than met the eye. As much as he hated to admit it, Chase was intrigued—and that was what worried him. Not only was she as unpredictable as the weather, but she was unlike any other woman he’d ever met. Their marriage might not be a conventional one, but neither would it be dull. His only hope was that they made it through the next twelve months without killing each other, as unlikely as it seemed.

  He grasped her offered hand in his and wondered how something so small and delicate could have delivered such a hard blow to his right cheek. “Deal.”

  8

  Chase’s large hand swallowed hers like a whale swallowed a minnow. Feeling momentarily disconcerted by the sheer power of him, Emily pulled away. Not wanting to let on how his size and strength intimidated her, she swallowed her insecurity and stared at him with a boldness she didn’t feel.

  He stepped away from the rain barrel. “Since we’re now official, I’ll show you around.” Without waiting for her to agree, he started across the yard and obviously expected her to follow.

  Dressed as he was for work, his spurs jingled, and his holster creaked beneath the weight of his firearm. A red kerchief was tied loosely around his neck, and his ever-present Stetson rode firmly on his still-wet head.

  Like a man on a mission, he pointed out the stables, the bunkhouse, and other outbuildings, including a root cellar, the blacksmith/farrier works, and the icehouse.

  Walking by his side, Emily fanned her heated face with her hand. The relentless sun didn’t seem to bother her escort, and it was all she could do to keep up with his long strides. It wasn’t just her straight skirt that hampered her movements. Her shoes, made of thin Moroccan leather with paper-thin soles, were better suited for a Bostonian tea party than a romp around a cattle ranch.

  Chase stopped by a fence in the shade of a sprawling sycamore and hung his clasped hands over the wooden rail. The fence surrounded one of several pastures, each serving a different purpose. “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes keen and assessing beneath the brim of his hat.

  He sounded genuinely concerned for her welfare, but Emily still felt shy and unsure of herself in his presence, though she did her best to hide it. Somehow, she sensed he respected strength.

  “I’m fine,” she said brusquely. It was bad enough that she had to depend on him for her very survival. The last thing she wanted was his pity.

  She joined him at the fence, careful to keep a safe distance between them. Could she trust him to keep his end of the bargain? Legally, he had every right to demand full privileges as her husband. For that reason, she was acutely aware of his strong masculine presence. He oozed virility in a way that no other man of her acquaintance ever had. How long could such a man be satisfied with a marriage in name only?

  The air quivered with heat, and the distant outbuildings looked like they were underwater.

  “I didn’t know Texas was this hot,” she said, dabbing at her wet forehead with a dainty lace handkerchief.

  He glanced at her. “Doesn’t it get hot in Boston?”

  “Yes, but not in March,” she said. “It’s even been known to snow as late as May or June.”

  “Sure glad I’m not raisin’ cattle there. Hard enough to raise ’em here.”

  She studied his strong-chinned profile. It seemed that he measured everything by how it would affect his ranch.

  “Hey, Rusty,” he called to the wrangler exercising one of the horses. “How ’bout bringin’ Daisy out so my wife can get acquainted with her?”

  Emily stiffened at the word wife. Though legally he had every right to call her that, it still sounded strange and unfamiliar. She’d always hoped to marry for love. To keep herself for that one special man. Crazy as it seemed, she still hoped to fulfill that dream, though her chances now looked slim if not altogether impossible.

  She waited for Rusty to move out of earshot. “What should I call you?”

  The question seemed to confound him, and he took a long time to answer. “My name’s Chase,” he said at length. “Call me that.” He studied her. “And I’ll call you Emily.”

  Something in the lazy way he said her name, the way he stretched it out as if reluctant to let it go, made her catch her breath. “That sounds so…informal. In Boston, many married couples refer to each other as Mr. and Mrs. At least in public.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Like I said, we’re much more civilized out here.”

  They both looked away just as Rusty walked out of the stables leading a gray-and-white horse by a rope. From a distance, Rusty had looked older—probably because of his slow walk, which had just a touch of swagger. A closer look revealed he was somewhere in his mid to late twenties. The ginger hair beneath his wide-brim hat explained his name.

  Chase ran his hand along the horse’s neck. “This here is Daisy. You’ll enjoy ridin’ her.”

  Emily kept her distance, her stomach clenched tight. “I…I told you, I don’t ride.”

  Chase’s eyes narrowed. “And I told you that your duties would include helpin’ with the cattle. You won’t be much good to me on foot.”

  Emily swallowed hard. “But…she’s so…tall.”

  His hands stilled on the horse’s neck. “This here pony is only fourteen and a half hands.”

  Emily frowned. “Hands?”

  “That’s how we measure hosses.” Bending his thumb to his palm and holding his fingers together, Chase showed her the proper way to measure a horse. “Most people workin’ with horses don’t have a tape measure handy, but we all have meat hooks.” He finished by running his hand along the horse’s neck. “Trust me, she’s gentle as a lamb.”

  As if to agree, the mare dipped her head and nuzzled Chase’s vest pocket. “Sorry, Daisy. I don’t have any treats for you today.”

  “Want me to saddle her up?” Rusty asked.

  “Yeah, why not?” Chase said. “While you’re at it, saddle my hoss as well.” He locked her gaze in his. “My bride and I will take a ride.”

  “You…you want me to ride?” she gasped.

  He dismissed Rusty with a nod before answering. “It’s the only way I can show you the rest of the ranch.”

  “I told you I don’t ride.”

  “I guess we’ll just have to ride double then.”

  “I’m sorry…”

  He turned his head to meet her gaze. “You’ll have to ride on my hoss with me.”

  The mere thought of sitting in the same saddle as this man brought a flush to Emily’s face, and her nerves tensed. To hide her discomfort, she crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “I don’t ride horseback. Period.”

  He turned to face her square on. “Well, ma’am, it’s like this. Either you learn to ride, or you better plan on livin’ like a hermit. What few vehicles the ranch owns are needed for work. I’m not fixin’ to send one of my boys into town to rent a four-wheeler every time you get the notion to giddy-up somewhere.”