Learning To Love (Contemporary Cowboy Romance) (Carson Hill Ranch series:Book 1) (3 page)

              “Excuse me? Aren’t you getting off in Hale?” the bus driver asked, tapping the young woman on the shoulder. She opened her eyes, startled for a moment by the bright light coming through the grimy bus window. Gracie snored softly with her head on Miranda’s shoulder, the younger girl’s curls having long escaped their ability to stay put in their ponytail over the four days of travel from Newark. It took her a moment to remember where she was and, more importantly, why.

             
“Yes, oh, thank you. I must have dozed off,” Miranda explained, thanking the old driver.. She let her head fall back against the seat, hesitating to wake Gracie. It had been so difficult to get any rest, let alone privacy, during their trip west, she didn’t even mind her younger sister’s assumption that she could use her as a pillow. If Miranda’s ex-boyfriend had seen this level of sisterly love, there would have been more than a few ugly words and a lot of yelling. He had done his very best to isolate Miranda from her family but when her mother died and Gracie had to have a place to stay, it only made things worse. Now that Miranda and Gracie were alone in the world, just the two of them, she couldn’t afford to risk losing a kind soul any more than she could refuse to breathe.

             
She tried to stretch her cramped limbs without jostling Gracie, but it didn’t work. The girl snapped to attention, sitting bolt upright at the realization that she had just been napping on her poor sister. Her cheeks flushed pink as she stole a sideways glance at Miranda.

             
“Don’t worry, Gracie, you couldn’t help yourself. I’m sure I was so tired, I didn’t notice myself,” Miranda said, patting the girl’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

             
The trip from the east had started well enough, with Miranda and Gracie taking a train first, one that had reclining seats, a snack bar, wifi, and more. Eventually, the train took them as far as they could go, and the bus trip leg of the journey began. The buses were cramped and smelly but even worse, they stopped in every single town between Chicago and Texas.

             
Now, her new home in Hale, Texas, awaited her, along with any number of new experiences. Miranda had found the email response one day, not knowing Gracie had signed her up for an Internet dating site. Gracie had even reached out to a number of prospects who the younger girl had romantically thought were promising, pretending to be Miranda. After she got over her anger at being tricked, and got over her fear that her ex would find out and lash out at her, she began to read the responses, first for the laugh but later, for the escape. It’s not like she ever in a million years thought about actually contacting one of these lonely cowboys, but it was pleasant to let herself daydream for a few stolen minutes.

             
After Gracie had to come live with her, the trouble began. Her asshole ex-boyfriend, Mike, was jealous the instant she showed up, complaining every time Miranda did something for the poor, now-orphaned girl. Even taking off work to go register her for school had pissed him off so much, he’d shoved her to the floor, stopping just short of actually hitting her this time because Gracie was now standing there, witnessing it all.

             
That’s what he really resented,
Miranda thought sadly, remembering how horrible the last two years of her life had been.
He hated having a witness around stopping him from taking everything out on me.

             
That’s when the idea of answering one of these emails first came to mind. She had to do something to get away, but had no idea of how. Mike controlled everything, her bank account, her car, even her cell phone, and he liked it that way. It was how he could make sure she stuck around. But the night she woke up to Gracie protesting, her cries coming through the wall from where she slept on the couch as Mike... she wouldn’t think about that right now.

             
“Do you know how much longer it will be?” Gracie asked in her soft spoken voice, peering out the windows as though the answer was posted somewhere on the landscape.

             
“Not with any real certainty, but the driver woke me up because the next stop is ours. It wouldn’t be too much longer, I think.”  She smiled reassuringly at her sister, hopeful that her own confidence would influence Gracie, who had not wholly embraced the idea of living out West. She had only agreed to take part in this under the agreement that if it wasn’t to her liking, they would split, heading to who knows where, but that they would do it together. Miranda had begged her to give it half a year at least before deciding whether or not she could live on the ranch, and even that took calling upon every ounce of loyalty Gracie felt for her big sister.

             
“Is it true that we’ll get to eat our meals outside, sitting on the ground beside a fire?” Gracie asked, her fears now replaced by the rumors she’d heard or stories she’d read in books back home.

             
“I don’t see why that would be true. This is the 21
st
century, you know. But even if it is, I’m sure it’s only for special occasions or when there’s some kind of cowboy thing going on. Wouldn’t that be an adventure?” she asked with an excited twinkle in her eye. Miranda did her best to be a source of comfort to the girl, one who had never ventured outside the city and had already been through so much. She could only imagine what fears were coursing through Gracie’s mind.

             
Miranda felt the bus begin to slow, telling her the driver had been right. The dull feeling she’d had inside her about this trip was gone now, replaced, for the first time since reading the ad, by waves of nervousness. What was this town going to be like? More importantly, what was this guy going to be like? All of his emails said he’d wanted to date for a short time and that he was ready to marry the right woman. Miranda had been impressed with his conversations, with the adoring way he wrote and asked about things going on in her own life. But she knew from experience that sweet talking was easy to come by and that it was a favorite tool for some guys to get what they wanted.

             
She couldn’t be sure if she was arguing with herself, or trying to convince herself. Miranda had berated herself more than once for sneaking away like she did, but it wasn’t because she wasn’t entitled to leave. She wasn’t exactly on the run from the law but the less Mike knew about her whereabouts, the better. It was sufficient to say she hadn’t left things on a good note, if the Louisville slugger she’d beaten him with was any indication.

             
My own choice of a stranger is better than any choice I’ve made so far,
she reminded herself, repeating the mantra that had kept her steeled and her head held high during this long trip west. She squared her shoulders and looked across the sea of tired, grumpy passengers taking up residence in the Greyhound, her eyes never wavering from the door that would take her off this bus and into a new life, and into the arms of a husband of her own choosing.

             
“Are you sure you read the email right, Miranda?” Gracie asked, for what had to have been the fourth time. “And the date’s correct?”

             
“Yes, Gracie,” Miranda replied once again, forcing herself to remember to speak nicely. Here they were, in the infamous West for only a matter of hours, and already her sister was getting on her nerves, peppering her with questions when she was already nervous. “I’ve spoken with the guy in the bus station, remember? He told me this was the correct day and we were on the correct bus. Whoever was supposed to pick us up from the station is just late.” She continued to fan herself delicately, wishing more than anything that she could take off her thick overcoat to get some relief from the unbelievable heat, but what kind of first impression would that make? She had chosen this outfit specifically because not only did it look pretty, but it also looked responsible and powerful. It was an outfit that said, “I’ve taken all the crap I plan to take from people, so don’t even start.” So she sat to wait.

             
And wait. More than once, Miranda entertained the idea of going into one of the two buildings closest to the fairly good-sized station, as one was clearly a shop of some kind and the other looked to be some sort of restaurant. But looking at the patrons leaving the shop loaded down with fifty pound sacks of feed, she wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t be in the way. That left the restaurant.

             
“Let’s go, Gracie. We can get something to eat and at least get out of this heat and into the shade.” Miranda walked ahead of Gracie, after asking the guy behind the counter in the bus station if he would guard their suitcases, leaving her teenaged sister to scamper after her. It only took a moment to realize their mistake.

             
As the two ladies pushed open the half-door and stepped into the darkened tavern, Miranda immediately threw one delicately gloved hand over Gracie’s eyes, pinning the girl’s head to her own chest to prevent her from seeing the display taking place inside. Not only were half the men wearing barely more than undershirts hanging out of filthy, ill-cut pants, but two sad-looking girls—no doubt around Gracie’s age—were doing what could only pass for dancing in this town as the unwashed, undressed men stared on. That alone was bad enough, but the fact that the girls had on almost no clothing, their bare breasts on display as the men leered, was horrifying.

             
Miranda wasted no time in turning them around and barreling out the door, letting it slam shut on its rusty spring without caring for the fine fabric of her power outfit. Gracie blinked at the harsh sunlight when Miranda released her eyes, then visibly shuddered.

             
“What kind of place is this?” she asked quietly. “Are those girls all right?”

             
“Yes, Gracie, I’m very sorry you saw that. Believe it or not, those girls have chosen to work here. At least, I hope they’ve chosen to.” Miranda pulled herself up to her usual formal posture and turned on her heel, eager to put as much distance between that den of Gomorrah and their physical bodies as possible.

             
She didn’t make it very far. Before she could take a full step, she found herself pressed against another person, this one very much a man if the solid wall of muscle beneath where her hands had landed was any indication. She immediately pulled her hands away from the man’s chest, but he gripped both of her elbows tightly and pulled her impossibly closer to keep her from falling backward. Even that type of physical contact was too scary, especially from a stranger. Miranda wrenched herself away with a stomp on the unsuspecting man’s foot and a forceful shove to his chest, only to find herself staggering backward until she lost her footing and fell, landing unceremoniously on her bottom in the dirt. Her eyes traveled up from his broken in and scuffed boots to his well-worn jeans until finally she found herself looking up at his tanned skin and dark eyes, shaded by a weather-beaten cowboy hat. The whole image would have been almost funny, like a walking cliche, if he hadn’t been so damn gorgeous.

The most alarming thing about him was the complete lack of emotion on his face. Miranda, of course, expected chivalry and apologies but given the scene inside the bar, she could have also understood a debasing, slovenly grin. But this man was blank.

              “Oh, no! Miranda!” Gracie cried, throwing herself down beside Miranda and inspecting the damage. Miranda glared up at the man who had all but thrown her to the ground, glowering fiercely and readying herself to scream for the cops, as Gracie turned red in the face and balled up her fists before yelling, “Who do you think you are?”

             
“I’m the guy who was sent to fetch you and take you to Carson Hill Ranch, so get off the ground and let’s go,” he replied gruffly before turning and walking away without so much as offering his hand to help Miranda off the ground. The girls watched his retreating form in shock and would have refused to move from the spot if a few sweaty men engaged in a bar fight hadn’t charged through the door just then, nearly running them over.

             
Gracie helped Miranda to her feet and began brushing at her sister’s clothes, trying in vain to get as much of the deep brownish-red dirt off her while trying not to bring attention to Miranda’s backside. “Do we really have to go with that awful man?” she whispered.

             
Miranda swallowed, then took a deep breath and released it. “I guess we do. But don’t worry, when I meet my future husband, that jerk will be gone before the ink is dry on our marriage license.” She gathered up the hem of her broomstick skirt and followed, Gracie running beside her and clinging to her arm.

             
They followed the man to a pickup truck parked beside the bus station and were glad to see that their suitcases were already waiting in the open bed. That meant that he at least was not going to expect them to load their own belongings. Miranda stopped short when the man, whom she could now see was not very old at all, climbed into the driver’s seat and put his hands on the steering wheel, waiting for them to get in.

             
“Um, I’m sorry,” Miranda began, trying—and failing—to keep her distaste for this guy out of her voice, “but where are my sister and I supposed to sit?” The rest of the truck cab was filled with various pieces of farm equipment and sacks of things he’d bought in the small store in town.

             
He slumped his shoulders and hung his head before answering. “I recommend sitting on those suitcases you packed with you. Just don’t sit up too high, you’re liable to bounce right out of the back. But wherever you sit, make sure you’re nice and comfy. We have over an hour ahead of us and we won’t be stopping along the way.”

             
“AN HOUR?” Miranda shrieked, forgetting all of the diction she had carefully honed over the years working in an office building. Her face fell as he ignored her protest. She glanced at Gracie, who could only shrug her shoulders and place one high-top sneakered foot on the tire to try to hoist herself up. She made it into the dirty truck bed and reached for her sister’s hands to help her, as their cowboy escort wasn’t lifting a finger to assist.

             
Once they were more or less settled, the stern cowboy turned the key and put the ancient truck in gear before turning onto a dirt path, causing the ladies to grab suddenly at the rough hewn sides of the truck bed to avoid being thrown sideways from the jolt. Miranda shot daggers at the driver with her eyes. She didn’t want to ruin anyone’s first impression of her with a complaint about her new husband’s staff, but this kind of behavior was completely uncalled for. Who cares if she met this guy online? She was still a human being and she’d had enough of men who treated her like she wasn’t. She wanted to make sure she addressed the issue with her new guy and pointed out the correct hired hand, so she leaned toward the open rear window of the cab.

             
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” she said aloofly, not wanting to even pretend to have an interest in this rude man’s affairs.

             
He didn’t answer for the length of several long pauses, then he leaned toward the open driver’s side window of the ride and spit out a head of wheat he’d been chewing on before answering with a tone of disgust.

             
“Casey Carson. Apparently, I’m your new husband.”