The Brides of Chance Collection (25 page)

“Well…” Her shoulders trembled as she took a shaky breath. She turned to him, her lips curving into a half smile. “Be careful not to overexert yourself until that gash heals. And you, um, might want to get out your hanky. You seem to be bleeding again.”

He fished out his handkerchief and pressed it to his temple.

“Good-bye, Mr. Chance. Thank you for your kindness earlier.” She walked away. Heart in his throat, Titus watched her go, trying desperately to think of a way to make her stay.

“Miss Worthington.” He hurried to join her.

“Yes?”

Gulping like a schoolboy who, for the very first time, figures out that girls aren’t a nuisance, Titus clenched his hat tightly. “It would be my honor if you would accompany me inside for a meal.” Holding his breath, he awaited her answer, all the while allowing his mind to think ahead.

Her eyebrows pushed together into a deep frown. “I appreciate your kindness, Mr. Chance, but I cannot accept charity.” She gave a stubborn jerk of her chin. The show of dignity shot like an arrow, piercing Titus’s heart. The tremor in her bottom lip as she desperately fought for control beckoned to be kissed away. Though everything in him begged to comply, he knew better.

Charity
. She thought that was what he was offering? How did he tell her that he’d been born the moment he looked into her eyes? That the sky was bluer, the air fresher? That all he could think about were her beautiful, fawnlike eyes and silky auburn hair?

She cleared her throat, and he realized he’d been staring. “Good-bye, Mr. Chance. Once again, thank you for your kindness.”

Knowing it was now or never, Titus gently took hold of her arm. “Miss Worthington, I would never insult you by implying you would accept charity.” He pressed his hat over his heart. “The truth is, I’d love the chance to repay
your
kindness.”

She hesitated, the lamplight reflecting the doubt in her eyes.

“Humor me? Please?”

A smile played across her lips. “All right, Mr. Chance. You’ve talked me into it.”

Relief flooded him. For the next hour and a half he would enjoy her company, during which time he would try to figure out a way to help a woman who refused to take charity.

Alisa was forced to use all her restraint not to slurp the delicious vegetable soup or wolf down warm slices of buttered bread. Slowly, much too slowly, her stomach began to lose the empty ache that had plagued her for two days and two nights. She ventured a glance at Mr. Chance. The gash on his temple still didn’t look too good. “How’s that feeling?” she asked.

“I guess if I said, ‘Like I’ve been shot,’ you’d just think I was trying to make you laugh again.”

Laughter bubbled from her.

“Ah, and I see it worked.”

She’d never met anyone quite like Mr. Chance. A smart, funny man with a heart of gold. She wasn’t so silly as to think he really had asked her to dinner to repay her kindness. He knew she was famished and had no money. So far God had taken care of her, but even she knew that she couldn’t allow Mr. Chance to do anything else for her. Not only was it not proper, but it simply wasn’t fair of her to presume upon his good nature. But she had a suspicion that he felt responsible for her. Though the thought sent a thrill from her heart straight down to her toes, she knew she had to relieve him of that sense of duty before it went too far.

Just as she opened her mouth to insist they part company as soon as they finished their meal, the door opened.

A muffled groan came from Mr. Chance’s side of the table. She arched her brow and stared at him a moment. He sipped his milk but stared at the door over the rim of his glass. Alisa followed his gaze and almost gasped. A young woman with ringlets of blond hair that didn’t look entirely real sashayed into the room ahead of an older couple. She worked the room like a politician, nodding to the men who sat around the four long tables. Every eye watched her, and as far as Alisa could tell, the young woman enjoyed the attention. She batted her lashes and touched shoulders as she passed. Then her eyes lit on Titus. And Alisa. All merriment fled her expression. Her face turned three shades of red, and her green eyes narrowed to slits. She looked like a cat about to pounce.

“Oh no,” Mr. Chance muttered. “She’s coming over.”

“Why, Titus, sweetheart, this is quite a surprise.”

Titus stood. “Hello, Priscilla. We just got off the stage from San Francisco and decided to get a bite.”

“Sit down and eat, you silly goose.” She turned to Alisa, and her ruby lips—was the color stained on?—curved into a sly smile. “He’s such a gentleman.”

Like a queen granting favors, she offered Alisa a slight nod of her head. “I’m Priscilla White. My parents are over there talking with some of the old folks in town. We own the dry goods store. And you are?”

Alisa hesitated. She glanced at Titus, who looked as perplexed as she felt. “Alisa Worthington.” Loving the sound of her name, Alisa smiled.

“Titus, darling, aren’t you going to ask me to sit down? I must admit I am totally famished. Mother ordered me an entire new wardrobe, and it arrived today. From New York! I plumb wore myself out trying things on.” She motioned to the ridiculous pink gown she wore. “Do you like it, Titus? I know you love me to wear pink.”

“Uh, yeah, Prissy. And do sit down.”

Alisa’s heart sank for two reasons. One: This woman obviously had a claim on Mr. Chance. And two: Nothing about Mr. Chance so far in their short acquaintance had indicated that he had such bad taste. Alisa locked in on his gaze. He spoke a silent apology with those warm blue eyes. But some things were beyond apologies. Extending a dinner invitation when one has a prior commitment to another girl, for instance. She glared at him and sniffed her disdain. If she’d been strong enough, she’d have left the plate of chicken, potatoes, and fresh garden peas and told him, “No, thank you.” But her mouth watered at the sight and smell of the wonderful food, so she picked up her fork instead. The nightmare in fake ringlets and frightful pink spoke faster than an auctioneer, paying very little attention to Alisa.

So Alisa shoveled bite after bite into her mouth, making no attempt to follow the conversation.

“And where are you from, Miss Worthington?”

Alisa nearly choked. She glanced up from her plate, met the catlike gaze, and chewed hard. The silence at the table seemed palpable as she swallowed down the bite with a gulp of milk.

Sensing the other girl’s impatience, Alisa couldn’t help but prolong the silence a bit. Deliberately, she dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “I’m sorry. What was the question?”

A long-suffering sigh blew from Priscilla’s lips—which Alisa was now convinced were painted. “I simply asked where you’re from.”

“San Francisco.”

“And what, may I ask, are you doing in our quaint little town?”

Calling this dusty hole-in-the-wall a town was a bit of a stretch, but “quaint” was absolutely laughable. Still, the girl had her. What could she possibly say?
My father accused me of killing my grandmother, and I narrowly escaped imprisonment by running away?

Though she couldn’t explain why she did it, Alisa found herself glancing at Mr. Chance for support. He caught her gaze, and the shining armor began to sparkle in the light of the lamp.

He cleared his throat, looked Priscilla squarely in the eyes, and said, “Miss Worthington is coming to work at the ranch.”

Chapter 4

T
itus had set a new record. This was the first time in his life he’d ever made two women gasp in horror simultaneously.

“Whatever do you mean, she will be working at the ranch?” Prissy’s eyes had narrowed dangerously. “Miss
Worthington
hardly looks like a ranch hand to me.”

Miss Worthington’s face turned deep red, and the question in her eyes echoed Prissy’s concern.

Clearing his throat, Titus glanced from one bewildered woman to the other. “Miriam could use the help. She has a pretty heavy workload with all of us men plus Daniel’s two youngsters.”

Finding her voice before Prissy could jump in, Miss Worthington managed to croak, “I don’t understand.”

A smug look flitted across Prissy’s face, and Titus knew she’d caught him in his—if not a lie, then definitely—stretch of the truth. It was obvious Miss Worthington was hearing about her new job for the first time.

“That’s right. I never got around to explaining things to Miss Worthington.”

Prissy’s haughty expression faded to one of humility.

“I should say you didn’t.” Miss Worthington’s frown spoke for itself, compelling Titus to speak up quickly before she could ruin his developing plan. Why
not
hire Miss Worthington? Miriam could certainly use the help. And he’d rather chew off his arm than leave Miss Worthington to the mercy of the slew of fellas staring at her from around the four neighboring tables.

“Miss Worthington,” he appealed to her, hoping she’d take the hint and simmer down while he explained.

She scowled and sent him an all-right-but-make-it-good expression, folding her arms for emphasis.

“Okay, it’s like this. My brother Daniel lost his wife in childbirth almost two years ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. Anyway, Miriam showed up a few months later, not knowing her sister had passed on. Daniel and Gideon wanted to send her right back, but we all voted that her cooking was the best we’d ever tasted, and besides, Polly and Ginny Mae needed a woman’s care.”

“Polly and Ginny Mae?”

Titus grinned at the very thought of his young nieces. “Daniel’s girls. Polly’s four, and Ginny Mae’s not yet two.”

“I see.” She chewed her bottom lip and stared at the table as though trying to gather the information into something that made sense. “I’m afraid I don’t understand—”

“The fact of the matter is that Gideon snatched up Miriam pretty quick and married her before the circuit-riding preacher left to take on his own pastorate. But there are an awful lot of us out there for one woman. This is a rough land and really not fitting for a woman. At least not one alone on a ranch with…all of us.”

“Oh, honestly, Titus.” Prissy’s outburst reminded him of her presence. She turned to Alisa. “What he’s trying to say is that those brothers of his are utter ruffians. Miriam has done wonders taming Gideon, but there are just too many of them for her to handle alone.”

She turned back to Titus as though he should thank her. How could he have ever thought he wanted to marry such an indelicate woman? For all her pink and ribbons and lace, Prissy White had the manners of a bawling calf, and up close to another woman, she wasn’t even all that pretty. That fancy finishing school she’d attended back east had been a colossal waste of time and money. But that was none of his business. He was just thanking the Lord that she’d turned down his proposal. Now he was free to court…

“Miss Worthington. Perhaps I was a mite deceptive in letting on like you were already coming to the ranch to work, but truth be told, we need all the help we can get. We can’t pay much, but you’d have a roof over your head and plenty of food.”

She hesitated, averting her gaze to her clasped fingers. “I don’t know….”

“I can assure you there’s nothing improper at our house. We’re God-fearing folks. Even hold the Sunday meetings at our ranch. So you have nothing to worry about.”

The door crashed open. Miss Worthington jumped as a wolf whistle blistered the air. “Looky there, Logan. Titushhh brung us another woman. Gideon got the lasssht purty girl, but I got dibs on thisssh one.”

Titus’s stomach dropped at the sight of Miss Worthington’s bewildered, accusing glare.

His two brothers staggered up to the table, obviously inebriated. “Hiya, Titus,” Logan said, pounding Titus’s back until it felt bruised. “Shhhaw the stage come in. Wuz you on it?”

Titus shot to his feet, snagging each young man by the collar.

“Hey!”

“Whachhhha doin’, Titusshhh?”

“I can’t believe you two have been drinking. If there weren’t a couple of ladies present, I’d thrash you good. Right here and now.”

“Awww, Titushhh.”

Titus’s anger hit him on two levels. One, the boys hadn’t touched a drop in months. And two, by the look of utter horror on Miss Worthington’s face, no amount of cajoling was going to convince her to come work at the ranch.

“Why, Titus,” Prissy said, poorly concealed amusement dripping from her painted lips. “Aren’t you going to introduce Miss Worthington to your brothers? After all, she
will
be helping to take care of your wonderful
God-fearing
family.” With a triumphant laugh, she stood. “So very nice to meet you, Miss Worthington. Don’t worry. There are plenty of men in town who will offer you marriage. A single woman in Reliable doesn’t stay single for long, unless she’s choosy.” She gave Titus a pointed look. The boys hee-hawed.

“Be quiet,” Titus ordered, tightening his hold on each collar. “Do you two have the buckboard?”

“ ’Courshh. Miriam shhhhent usssh for supplies.”

“Good. Get to it. Stay there, and wait for me.”

“We’re shhorrry, Titushh,” Logan slurred. “It’ll never happen agin.”