The Cowboy Meets His Match Page 7

  Emily dropped her hands to her waist and stared up at him with grim determination. It wasn’t just that she couldn’t ride. Horses scared her, and for good reason. As a child, she’d been bitten by one and still had a scar on her thigh to prove it.

  “I’ll walk to town, if need be,” she said.

  His eyebrows shot up. “Walk?” He laughed. “Do you have an idea how long that would take you?”

  Emily lifted her chin, eyes flashing. “I’m not getting on that horse!”

  His jaw clenched. “Like it or not, you’re gonna have to learn to ride. As my wife, you’ll be expected to accompany me to the gospel mill,” he said, his uncompromising voice leaving no room for argument or even discussion. “We’ll also be expected to attend certain social affairs.”

  She blinked. “What’s a gospel mill?” she asked.

  Chase’s eyes widened. “You’re kiddin’, right? They don’t have places of worship in Boston?”

  She drew in her breath. This married life was beginning to be more complicated than she’d imagined. Just figuring out the language was turning out to be a full-time job.

  “We have churches in Boston,” she said. “And I made it clear there were certain things I would not do.”

  “The only thing you made clear is that you would not share my bed.”

  The mention of his bed unnerved her, but she refused to back down. “You can add horseback riding to the list.”

  “I’ll do no such thing! Learning to ride is for your own good.”

  She glared at him. “I agreed to your terms. It’s only fair that you agree to mine!”

  “You agreed to playin’ your role in public.” His eyes blazed. “And that includes wearin’ my ring.”

  She quickly covered her bare left hand with her right. “I-I—”

  “Oh no!” He groaned and shushed her with a finger to his mouth. “Looks like we have company,” he said beneath his breath. He squinted against the sun. “I’m afraid you’re ’bout to meet my nosy neighbor, Mrs. Buttonwood.”

  Recalling Big-Foot Harry’s warning, Emily followed Chase’s gaze to the horse heading their way.

  Chase slipped a possessive arm around her shoulder. Startled, she looked up at him. “We’re newlyweds, remember?” he said and turned her to face their guest.

  Even as she felt a pleasant jolt at his touch, Emily bristled at the ease with which he pretended their sham of a marriage was real.

  “A new bride would be expected to smile,” he added, his warm breath tickling her ear. Heat that had nothing to do with the sun coursed through her veins. Fearing her knees would buckle, she steadied herself with a hand on the fence.

  Mrs. Buttonwood brought her black gelding to a stop in front of them and dismounted. The horse stood a full head taller than Daisy.

  Emily felt Chase squeeze her shoulder. Taking the hint, she swallowed her irritation and forced a smile.

  Mrs. Buttonwood greeted her in kind. “I went to the house, and your housekeeper said I’d find you here.” She gave Emily a quick once-over. “Now aren’t you two the lovebirds?”

  Accustomed to the sidesaddle riders back home, Emily was surprised at the woman’s masculine command of her horse, as well as her manly attire.

  Chase moved his arm away from Emily’s shoulder. “Nice to see you, Mrs. Buttonwood.”

  “Yes. Well, I wanted to meet the new bride.” Switching the reins from her right hand to her left, Mrs. Buttonwood afforded Chase a playful punch on the arm. Turning to Emily, she nodded approval. “So, you’re Cassie.”

  A moment of awkward silence followed before Chase spoke. “Actually, my wife’s name is Emily.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. Buttonwood looked confused and then curious. “I could have sworn that I heard that your new bride’s name was Cassie.” Falling silent, she waited for an explanation and, when none came, remembered her manners. “By the way, I’m Helen Buttonwood. My husband and I own the ranch down the road a piece.”

  Since Mrs. Buttonwood was considerably older, Emily bobbed her head. “Pleased to meet you,” she said politely.

  Mrs. Buttonwood’s eyes widened. “Oh my! Aren’t you the lady? Please call me Helen. And do let me see your ring.”

  “Well, I—” Emily hid her bare hand in the folds of her skirt.

  “It’s being resized,” Chase said as smoothly as if he’d rehearsed it.

  Mrs. Buttonwood looked momentarily alarmed. “Oh. I do hope it’ll be ready by next Saturday.”

  Chase frowned. “What’s next Saturday?”

  “I’m planning a little get-together. You know, to help celebrate your wedding. Nothing outlandish, of course. Just a small gathering with a few neighbors. You didn’t think we’d let an occasion like this pass unnoticed, did you?” Without waiting for a reply, Mrs. Buttonwood directed her next comments to Emily. “This is the most important occasion in a woman’s life, and men act like it’s no big deal. Everyone will want to meet you. You will come?”

  Fortunately, Chase answered, relieving Emily of the need to do so. “My new bride and I haven’t had a chance to discuss how and when I would introduce her to our neighbors.”

  “Problem solved,” Mrs. Buttonwood said, undaunted. “So, do I hear a yes?”

  “I’d rather we wait for a couple of weeks,” Chase said, and Emily didn’t miss the challenge in the look he gave her. “That will give my wife time to get used to her new role.”

  “Oh…I see… I understand,” Mrs. Buttonwood said, though it was clear by the disappointed look on her face that she didn’t. “But do tell. How did the two of you meet?”

  It wasn’t a question Emily was prepared to answer. How did one explain marrying the wrong man—a stranger—by mistake?

  “We would love to tell you the full story, but we’re fixin’ to take a ride,” Chase said smoothly. “I want to show my bride the ranch.”

  Mrs. Buttonwood’s gaze lit on Emily’s dress, her expression changing to alarm. “You’re riding dressed like that?”

  Emily glanced at Helen’s plain divided skirt and no-nonsense man’s shirt. “Well, I…”

  Mrs. Buttonwood didn’t give her a chance to finish before assailing Chase. “How could you think about taking her horseback riding dressed in her Sunday-go-to-meeting best? Why, she’d have to lift her skirts to unprecedented heights just to mount.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” she continued without stopping to take a breath. Her social invitation had been declined, but she apparently had no intention of being turned down a second time. “I’ll have one of my hands ride over later today with appropriate riding attire.” She stepped back and visually inspected Emily’s figure. “Such a tiny thing,” she said with a shake of the head, as if Emily’s small stature posed a problem. “But I’m sure I’ll find something to fit you.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Emily said. “But I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble at all.” Mrs. Buttonwood gave Emily her own playful punch in the arm. “We rancher wives have to stick together.” With that, she turned to her horse and mounted. “I hope we can plan that little get-together soon,” she called from astride her saddle. “The others are dying to meet you.” With a wave of her hand, she rode off, and the tension immediately left the air.

  “Unprecedented heights?” Chase said, his eyes warm with humor, and for the first time since landing in Haywire, Emily couldn’t help but laugh.

  * * *

  By the end of the day, Emily’s mind was awhirl with the many sights she’d witnessed. Since she’d refused to mount a horse, Chase had made her walk to the roping pasture. It couldn’t have been more than a quarter of a mile away from the main house. Even in her city shoes, the walk had offered no hardship, but one of the cowhands had chastised Chase for making his bride walk so far.

  Emily thought it the strangest thing. The cowhands seemed to think nothing of sitting in a saddle for hours at a time but balked at having to walk even a short distance on foot.

  Before witnessing the men at work, she’d had no idea that running a ranch required so much in the way of sweat and guts. Never again would she take a piece of meat on her plate for granted.

  At first glance, the arid ground had looked dull and lifeless. What a false impression that had been! Under Chase’s patient tutelage, she now knew that the land teemed with life, and the battle of survival against the forces of nature was in constant play.

  Still, nothing had changed her mind about the ranch. She still hated the relentless dust and sickening smell. But given Chase’s passion, she now understood why he would do anything to keep from losing the ranch. Why he would even endure their strange marriage.

  The sun had dipped low in the sky by the time Emily returned to her room to catch her breath and freshen up for supper. There she found the housekeeper.

  Peggy Sue jumped when Emily entered the room, and her face flared red. “Oh, I’m s-sorry,” she stammered and quickly moved away from the full-length mirror. The wedding gown she’d been holding up to herself was now bunched in her arms. “I…I was just about to hang this up.”

  She looked so flustered and embarrassed that Emily felt sorry for her. Chances were she’d never seen a finer gown and was probably shocked to have found it so carelessly tossed on a chair.

  “Thank you,” Emily said. “That’s very thoughtful.”

  Peggy Sue spread the gown neatly across the bed, smoothing out the full skirt. Though she appeared to be somewhere in her early twenties, she had the weary look of someone much older. Brown hair pulled into a severe bun did nothing to soften the sharp angles of her face. Nor did the shapeless gray frock and thick-soled shoes do anything to enhance her looks.

  “It’s beautiful,” Peggy Sue said, her voice hushed in awe. She ran a finger along the lacy bodice. “I don’t think it will fit into the wardrobe. Would you rather I boxed it up?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Since Peggy Sue still looked flustered and uncomfortable, Emily tried to put her at ease. “Have you worked here long?” she asked.

  Peggy Sue shoved her hands in her apron pocket. “Ever since my daughter was a baby.”

  “Does your daughter live here too?” Earlier, Emily had spotted a young child but assumed she belonged to Cookie or one of the cowhands.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That must have been the little girl I saw earlier. What’s her name?”

  “Ginny. She’s nine years old.” Peggy Sue’s eyes sought Emily’s. “She won’t give you any trouble.”

  “I’m sure she won’t. Does your husband work on the ranch too?”

  Peggy Sue hesitated, and her cheeks turned bright red. “I’m not married,” she said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed…” Emily felt bad for putting her on the spot and decided not to pry further.

  Peggy Sue tossed a nod at the wedding gown. “I…I noticed that there’s a small rip at the hem. I’m quite handy with a needle. If you’d like, I’d be happy to mend it.”

  Emily had no further use for the gown. If she never saw it again, that would be soon enough. Indeed, all it had done so far was bring her bad luck. But the housekeeper looked so eager to please that Emily didn’t have the heart to turn down her offer.

  “That would be very kind of you,” she said.

  With an audible sigh, Peggy Sue lifted the gown off the bed, smoothed it carefully over her arm, and inched toward the door. “I’ll have it back in a day or two.”

  “There’s no hurry.” Emily wanted to say more, but Peggy Sue had already left the room as if she couldn’t leave fast enough.

  9

  Emily had no idea where Chase had spent the night. Nor did she care. As long as it wasn’t with her. All she knew was that he had left the house early that morning on urgent ranch business. In his stead, the affable cook insisted upon taking Emily to the bunkhouse and introducing her to the ranch hands while he delivered their noontime meal.

  “Mind your manners,” he called to the men as they entered the low-slung building. “There’s a lady present.”

  The room was rustic and had an open-beamed ceiling and pitted plank floor. A rock fireplace commanded one entire wall, and bare, narrow windows took up another. Cots filled two-thirds of the room, and a long table surrounded by ladder-back chairs occupied the rest.

  When introduced, the ranch hands rose from the table, shuffled their feet, and politely doffed their hats. Altogether there were seven ranch hands, and all were dressed in canvas pants and plain bib shirts.

  Each man had a curious name that either described his physical appearance or stated his place of origin. She’d already met Big-Foot Harry and Rusty, but there also were Kansas Pete, Beanpole Tom, Gabby, and the man they called Foxhound. The deep, gravelly voice belonged to the ranch foreman, Boomer.

  The men varied in age from early twenties to midforties. All were wiry, had sun-bronzed skin, and spoke with either a twang or a lazy drawl. After an initial wariness at having a woman in their midst, the men began to relax.

  “Nice to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” the man who’d been introduced as Boomer said, speaking for the rest of them. “Anythin’ me and the boys can do fer you, just give us a holler.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said. She glanced at the steaming bowls on the table. “Please, don’t let me keep you from your meal.”

  The men took their seats again and eagerly helped themselves to Cookie’s son-of-a-gun stew. The man who’d been introduced as Kansas Pete spoke up. “Big-Foot Harry said you and the boss got married by accident.”

  Cookie looked appalled. “What’s the matter with you, Kansas Pete? You ain’t supposed to talk about that.” He turned to Emily. “Let’s go.”

  “It’s all right,” Emily said. “I’m sure no harm was meant.” There was no sense denying what apparently was now common knowledge. Or would be once Mrs. Buttonwood learned the truth. Hoping to put the men at ease, Emily said, “The stampede caused a lot of confusion.”

  Boomer chuckled. “I’ll say. Guess you could say the stakes have never been so high.” Laughing at his own pun, he lifted his spoon to his mouth and made a loud slurping sound.

  Beanpole Tom reached across the table for a sourdough biscuit. “If you ask me, the boss lucked out.”

  “That’s what I herd.” Big-Foot Harry laughed. When no one laughed with him, he spelled the word out. “H-e-r-d. Get it?”

  Cookie rolled his eyes. “I think that’s our cue to leave,” he said, ushering Emily out the door. He waited until they were a distance from the bunkhouse before apologizing for the men. “Don’t mind them. They’re all talk, but they don’t mean nothin’ by it.”

  Actually, she liked the cowhands. They were nothing like the men back home with their tweed suits and uppity airs. Instead, the men here were much more down-to-earth and unassuming.

  After Emily had visited the bunkhouse and met the friendly occupants, the main house seemed more remote and lonely than ever.

  That was why she was disappointed to find the large dining room table set that night for only two. For some reason she couldn’t quite name, the thought of being alone with the man who was her husband put her nerves on edge. Not that she’d seen that much of him since he’d shown her around the ranch.

  Now he greeted her with a wary nod and held her chair for her until she was seated. He then took his place clear at the opposite end of the long table. It was their first meal together, and for once, he seemed to lack his usual self-confidence. Instead, he looked as uneasy as Emily felt.

  Grateful for the distance between them, she glanced about the room. Accustomed to the noisy family gatherings she’d grown up with, she felt a wave of homesickness wash over her. It was only after her mother had died that things began to fall apart. Her grandparents, aunt, and uncle said it was too painful to visit the Beacon Hill mansion, and that put an end to the lush parties and festive dinners.

  Perhaps if the family had been more supportive, her father might not have grieved himself to death. If he were still alive, she wouldn’t be stuck on an isolated ranch miles away from anything, that’s for certain. Nor would she be married to a stranger.

  Emily heaved a sigh. It was hard to know what affected her more—thoughts of the past or the gloomy surroundings. Not even the soft glow of candlelight could make the room with its stark white walls, rough-hewn rafters, and austere furnishings feel warm or inviting.

  As if sensing her troubled thoughts, Chase visually followed her gaze to one of the bare walls. “Something wrong?”

  Shaking her head, she stared across the vast expanse of maple wood. Chase had removed his pearl-gray hat. His slightly disheveled brown hair gave him a boyish look. Twisted-wire garters held his shirtsleeves to his elbows.

  “No, nothing,” she murmured. Everything. She hated how her life had taken such an unexpected turn. This wasn’t the kind of life she’d hoped for, had indeed planned for.

  Chase studied her a moment before accepting her answer without further questioning. “I asked Cookie to serve us in here. Thought you’d feel more comfortable.” He glanced around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “This room hasn’t been used much since my grandmother died. She liked to entertain and would throw large dinner parties here.”

  Emily moistened her lips. “Where do you normally dine?”

  “In my office,” he said.

  “And the others?”

  He sat back in his chair. “The others?”

  “Your men. Do they take all their meals in the bunkhouse?” The lack of a kitchen meant Cookie had to carry everything from the main house, and that seemed to her a needless chore.

  The question seemed to surprise him. “That there’s their livin’ quarters.”