Love Finds You in Last Chance, California (11 page)

Elizabeth didn’t reply, but a smug little smile clung to her lips as she tugged her friend out of the room.

Alex sat on Banner and leaned her hands against the pommel of her saddle. The knoll where she’d stopped stood several hundred feet above the high plateau and gave her an excellent view of the ranch.

She’d ridden to the far side of the property not long after sunrise, needing time alone. Over the years, she’d discovered that her mind worked best when on horseback, so she’d saddled Banner, whistled to Hunter, and headed for her favorite lookout.

Distant bay, sorrel, and black horses dotted the plateau floor, and occasional puffs of dust rose under the hooves of young foals racing across patches where the grass hadn’t yet returned. The ridges of the Sierra Nevada range loomed over it all, casting impressive shadows over the high mountain plateau. The sound of the wind whispering among the sugar pines soothed Alex’s agitation.

She swung from the saddle, slipped her horse’s reins around a low-hanging branch, and whistled sharply. Before long she heard a crashing in the dense mesquite as Hunter bolted through and dashed to her side, his big pink tongue lolling and his sides heaving. “What’ve you been hunting, you big goof?” She stroked his black ears and looked into his soulful eyes. “Where’s your stick? Go find it.”

Hunter streaked away and began a frantic hunt under the nearby trees. A few minutes later he returned triumphant, a large stick clamped in his jaws.

Alex held out her hand, and the dog obediently placed it on her palm. He stepped aside, his gaze never leaving the stick. She leaned back and heaved her entire body into the throw. Hunter’s long strides covered the distance almost before the stick landed near the stream bank.

Alex continued the game for a few minutes then sank onto the grass and patted the ground beside her. “Down, Hunter. That’s enough—no more.”

The quiet of the spot reached out and embraced her, wrapping tendrils of peace around the trouble still surging in her mind. While her father’s decision to mortgage the ranch and keep it a secret baffled her, another part of her heart admitted he’d known her better than anyone. He’d understood her dread of change and how hard she’d fought against it all her life. She’d been her father’s daughter for so many years, and an independent woman besides. He must have realized she’d want to succeed on her own.

He’d had high hopes she’d meet a man and marry someday, and he used to tease her about becoming an old maid. In her heart she admitted to occasional loneliness, but she didn’t feel the need for a husband. She could break a young horse, deliver a foal, shoot as well as Uncle Joe or Papa, mend fences, ride herd at night, and track with the best of the hands. About the only thing she couldn’t do was cook, and she cheerfully left that to Martha. Nobody cooked like Martha anyway, so she saw no sense in trying.

A wet nose and soft whine brought her back to the present, and she stroked Hunter’s head. “I’ll keep this ranch and make it succeed on my own. I don’t want to share it with anyone but you, Martha, and Uncle Joe.”

Hunter crept a little closer, laid his head on her knee, and gazed into her face, his ears cocked forward. “Do me a favor? Chase off any men that come courting and I’ll throw a stick for you anytime—deal?”

He tipped his head to the side and his entire body wriggled.

“Good boy. We’ll keep life the way it is now.”

Alex pushed to her feet and the big dog jumped up, watching her every move. “Guess we’d better go check on the foals. Nothing will get done while we sit here moping.” She untied the buckskin’s reins and swung up into the saddle. The view from this hill never failed to satisfy her continual longing for freedom.

Why couldn’t she have been born a man? Running the ranch alone wouldn’t be an issue. Why in the world couldn’t women be treated the same as men? She shook her head, knowing that wouldn’t happen in her lifetime. At least she still wore the pants on her ranch. She grinned and looked at her legs. Quite literally—and if she had her way, that’s how it would remain.

Two hours later Alex rode onto the ranch and swung down in front of the barn. They’d covered some distance and she’d given the gelding his head, allowing a fast gallop across the valley floor. Banner loved the freedom, and the run had somewhat loosened the hard knot lodged in her chest.

“Alexia? You have visitors, dear.” Martha’s strong voice floated across the open area between the house and the barn. “Charlie and Walter both arrived a few minutes ago and are inside washing up. I told them I’d bring tea and cookies to the front porch. You can join them there when you’re finished.”

Alex groaned and rolled her eyes, not excited about the prospect of visiting with either of the young men. She’d known them since childhood, but in the past few years they’d tried to transform themselves from playmates into suitors. She’d humored them in the past, always keeping them at arm’s length.

She unsaddled and rubbed Banner down in record time then left him munching grain in his stall. One of the ranch hands could’ve cared for her horse, but the few extra minutes gave her time to adjust her attitude from annoyance to graciousness before she met the men waiting on the porch.

“Hey, Alex!” Charlie Danson waved a big-boned hand that protruded from a rumpled shirtsleeve. “Did you have a nice ride?” He sat sprawled across a large wooden bench in the shade of the veranda, looking every bit the unkempt miner’s son she remembered from his preceding visits.

Alex sighed. Just an hour ago she’d wrestled with her not wanting to change, but as she looked from untidy Charlie to prim and proper Walter, she wished for a teensy bit of change, just this once. These two young men had been trying to court her for months, and each of their visits was a virtual replay of the one before.

Charlie’s aversion to riding a horse appeared to have driven him on foot from his father’s nearby claim. Mud caked his rough work boots, and dried sweat had cut little rivulets through the dirt on his face. Walter’s fastidious appearance stood in sharp contrast, his neat black suit brushed and his hat shining.

Walter peered over the top of his eyeglasses at her clothing and frowned. “Aren’t you going to change, Alexia?”

“No.” She stepped up onto the porch and sank into a nearby chair. “I’ve been checking the foals in the upper pasture and I’ll be heading back out after you leave, so I see no reason to change.”

She glanced at his crestfallen face and felt a twinge of guilt for her harsh tone. Patting his hand, she added, “I’ll get you both more tea.” She reached for their mugs and headed into the house, leaving two very quiet young men on the porch.

A few moments later she slipped back onto the long porch, her tray laden with refilled cups and a heaping plate of cookies. She reached the corner and started to turn when a loud whisper slowed her steps.

“Why don’t you head home, Charlie? You know Alexia’s always been interested in me, not a big overgrown kid like you.” Walter’s severe words brought Alex to a halt.

“Aw, shucks. That ain’t true, and you—you—you know it.” Charlie’s slow, rather pained speech caused Alex to wince. “She’s my friend, too. I’ve knowed her longer than you, and my pa runs a mine. He don’t just work at the mercantile.”

“My father doesn’t work at the store, he owns it,” hissed Walter. “It’s not doing you any good hanging around here. I mean to court Alexia proper. You don’t know anything about what ladies want—all you understand is dirt and rocks.”

Alex rolled her eyes and groaned. Charlie and Walter had been rivals since grammar school, but this was ridiculous. The last thing she wanted was for either of them to court her, and the sooner they realized it, the better.

She stepped around the corner of the covered porch and crossed the last few yards in long strides. “Here you go! More cookies and tea.” A swift glance at Charlie’s red face and Walter’s sullen countenance gave her resolve. “I’m sorry to leave you boys, but Dad’s passing left a lot on my shoulders. Not that I can’t handle it, of course,” she added as a look of sharp triumph crossed Walter’s face. “It leaves me less time to socialize, and I really must get back to my chores.”

Both young men started to protest and rise, but she waved them back. “Never mind getting up. Sit and finish your cookies. I’m sure you haven’t chatted with each other for some time. Feel free to ask Martha for anything you need.” She stepped off the porch and headed for the barn, trying to hide a grin.

“But…wait!” Walter sprang to his feet and swung to the edge of the porch. “I wanted to take you for a drive in my buggy. It’s going to be a fine evening. I’m sure your ranch hands can take care of the chores, Alexia.”

“I’m sure they can, too, but what kind of example would that be, asking them to do my work?” She shook her head, keeping a straight and solemn face. “No, sir. That’s not what they’re used to, and I don’t intend to change. Would you give Charlie a ride home? I’m sure he’d appreciate the offer.” She didn’t try to hide her grin this time, as her pant-clad legs carried her the last few strides to the barn.

Justin nodded at a few friendly faces on his way from the boardinghouse to the church, but he didn’t slow to chat. He had to make a decision about Toby.

A freight wagon loaded with bulging burlap bags pulled to a stop in front of the general store, and the driver jumped down to tie up his team. Justin veered around the end of the wagon and stepped over a wide stretch of mud.

The loud bark of a dog preceded the screams of a young boy, as a brown-speckled hound dashed down the middle of the road with a ragged youngster on its heels. “Hey, you! That’s my hat! Bring it back.” The boy’s tousled curls shone in the sun and his shirttail whipped in the breeze as he disappeared around a corner close on the hound’s heels.

Justin chuckled and shook his head, remembering his own youthful antics. He’d bet the youngster wouldn’t give up until he’d caught the hound and then all would be forgiven. Boys and dogs seemed to have an understanding, and their upsets often turned to play.

He crossed an open grassy area and slowed in front of the church, suddenly remembering the humiliation he’d suffered at the hands of the local blacksmith not many days ago. The big brute had better not try anything today. Tackling him when his back was turned might have worked once, but that wouldn’t happen again.

The church looked like a recent addition—the cedar shakes on the roof hadn’t grayed from the sun, and the paint on the siding hadn’t peeled. Clean windows sparkled in the morning light, and caring hands had planted flowering bushes near the front door. A bell high up in the steeple hung silent, but it held an air of expectant waiting.

He stopped near the double front doors and reached for the handle when it suddenly swung open and a man pushed his way through. Justin drew back, wondering at the determined expression on the man’s face. Parson Moser followed as far as the open door and stood without speaking. He nodded at Justin.

The man jerked at the reins tied to the rail and loosened his horse. “Pastor, I’d appreciate your help—a woman’s going to have a rough time making a success of that ranch.” The dark-haired man shoved a broad-brimmed hat onto his head. “Never mind; I’ll ride out and tell her myself.” He raised a hand to the parson, ignoring the man standing nearby, then swung up into the saddle. A jerk pulled the horse around, causing him to stamp and snort. The rider touched the gelding with his spurs and cantered toward the hills.