Love Finds You in Sundance, Wyoming Page 12

“Thank you. I think I can get it next time, but I like it better when Smokey beats me to the kitchen.” She slid the coffeepot to the front of the stove and removed two mugs from the shelf. “Why didn’t you stay in bed longer?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind, I guess.”

  “Want to talk about it? I used to be a pretty good listener when we were kids.” She opened a bin built into the outside wall and removed a few plump russet potatoes, placing them in the washbasin. “I can peel potatoes and talk, if you want to keep me company.”

  Travis leaned his shoulder against the wall. “First, how’s Angel? Any change?”

  “She woke up once, a few minutes after you left the room. Said she wants to talk to you today and seemed more like her old self. I assured her you’d make time, and she slipped back into a peaceful sleep.” Libby lifted a jug of water and poured it over the potatoes. She picked up a rag and scrubbed each one in turn, placing them to the side when finished. When that task was complete, she pulled open a drawer and withdrew a sharp knife. “I know Smokey likes to cook these with the skins on, but that feels so uncivilized to me. I told him when he’s cooking, that’s fine, but when I beat him to the kitchen, I’m peeling them.” She tossed him a cocky grin and lifted the knife, pointing it at him. “Now talk.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Travis hefted the bubbling coffeepot and poured the steaming liquid into his mug. “Want yours now or later?” He raised the second cup.

  “Later is fine. I’ll finish these, then come sit with you.” She wagged a potato at him. “Don’t try stalling, little brother. I could tell yesterday that something was bothering you. Is it the ranch?”

  Travis sank into a nearby chair and took a sip of the strong brew. Libby made true cowboy coffee, none of the weak belly wash you’d find back East. “The ranch is fine. I guess it’s more than one thing. Part of it is Father, part of it Angel.”

  “Father?” She turned toward him and raised her brows. “What does he have to do with Angel?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. “Sorry. I just meant they’ve both been on my mind the past couple of days. When’s the last time you heard from him, Lib?”

  Her hands stilled. “I’m not sure. I guess just after George died. I sent a telegram from San Francisco letting him know about George’s death, and he responded fairly quickly.”

  “You told him you were coming here, I assume?”

  “Yes. He asked if I wanted to come home. I thanked him but explained I planned to visit you for a while.” She dropped her gaze.

  “You didn’t tell him you were moving here?”

  She shrugged. “I guess I didn’t say much about it, either way.”

  “Why not? You think he’d care that you’re with me?”

  Libby raised her chin. “I’m not sure, Trav. He’s—prickly—where you’re concerned.”

  “I know. He’s angry with me again. In his last letter he almost demanded I give up ranching and return to take up law. Said I needed to ‘grow up and quit playing at being a cowboy’ and come back East where I belong.”

  Libby winced. “I’m sorry. He’s been difficult since Mother died.”

  “Is that one of the reasons you didn’t want to go home when George died?”

  “Yes.” She put the last potato in a pan of clean water and wiped her hands. “I can’t take her place.” She wrapped a cloth around the handle of the coffeepot and tipped it over her mug, filling it close to the brim. “I’m sorry Father won’t accept what you’ve chosen to do with your life.”

  Travis stood and pulled out a chair, waiting till she sat before returning to his own. “I’m trying to make peace with it.” He was quiet for a minute, then asked, “Do you think Angel knows the Lord?”

  She turned a startled face toward him. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ve never heard her talk about God, and she’s never asked to attend church with us.”

  Libby raised her brows. “I’ve never thought about it. She’s only been here two weeks, and she’s been busy. Plus, this injury hasn’t helped.”

  Travis took another slow sip of his coffee. “Angel is such a loner. The times we’ve talked, I’ve tried to broach the subject but hit a wall. Maybe we need to ask her to go with us this Sunday. It’s still four days away, and she should be well enough by then, don’t you think?”

  “From what the doctor said yesterday, I’d agree. Angel hasn’t shown a sign of fever for two days, and her strength is returning. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’ll be fighting to get out of that room soon.”

  “Good. So will you ask her?”

  Libby sat back and narrowed her eyes. “No. It was your idea. You should ask her.”

  Travis rubbed his neck with the palm of his hand. “I don’t think she likes me, Lib.”

  “What in the world makes you say that?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute. You said Angel was on your mind, and now I understand why—and it’s not simply due to her not attending church. So talk. What’s going on between you two?”

  “Nothing. Everything.” He thunked his coffee cup back onto the table. “I don’t know. I make a hash of things whenever I talk to her. She believes the only thing I care about is the ranch.”

  “Is it?” Libby crossed her arms over her chest.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You must have given her a reason to think that or it wouldn’t worry you. Besides, I’ve noticed you tend to get rather—shall we say— focused, when it comes to your work.” She took a sip of her drink. “So what did you say to make Angel think you don’t care about her?”

  “I’ve spoken without thinking more than once. Nothing specific about her, but she’s gotten the impression I want her to get well quickly so she can tend to her job.”

  Libby pursed her lips. “So, what will you do to make things right?”

  “I was hoping you could help me with that. Maybe—talk to her for me?”

  “That is not my place, Travis, and you know it. I’ve certainly never thought of you as a coward, not even where women are concerned.”

  Travis groaned. “Angel isn’t just any woman.”

  “No.” Libby met his eyes. “She isn’t, at that. Do I detect a hint of interest in our new employee, little brother?”

  Travis jerked upright, slopping coffee from his cup. “I don’t care to be misunderstood, that’s all.”

  “I see.” Libby gave a secretive smile and tipped her head to the side. “Then I guess you’d best march in there after breakfast and get the issue settled.” She held up a hand when he started to protest. “She’s not going to shoot you. In fact, I’m quite certain her gun is out of reach in her present condition.”

  “Thanks. That sets my mind at ease.” Travis turned his head at the sound of footsteps crossing the pantry and heading toward the kitchen. “Smokey’s here. I’ll consider your suggestion.”

  Angel woke from a deep sleep—the kind that passes without dream, thought, or memory, leaving one refreshed and ready to tackle the day. How many days had she spent in this bed? Her bones ached and muscles screamed in protest at the forced inactivity. She gingerly sat up and pushed back the covers. Shame rolled over her as she thought of the wasted hours she’d been laid up in this room—and Libby waiting on her like a common housemaid when Angel was the hired hand.

  Could she wash up and pull on her pants, boots, and a shirt without help? Yes. The intense throbbing had eased in her arm. She raised it a few inches and straightened it, locking her elbow. The swelling had gone down, as well. Her fingers worked fine, and pain had never stopped her before. Good thing she didn’t wear fancy dresses like Libby with dozens of tiny buttons. She’d have a hard enough time managing the few on the front of her shirt.

  The rumble of men’s voices faded on the other side of her door as she tugged on her boots and stood. A glance out the window confirmed her guess—the cowboys were sauntering off the front porch and heading toward t
he barn. Breakfast was over. Her stomach growled, and she clapped her good hand over her middle. Hopefully Smokey had saved her a plate.

  Angel cracked open the door and listened. Dishes and pans rattled in the kitchen. She’d wanted to talk to Travis, but right now she’d as soon avoid him. Eating a hearty meal after days of picking at food sounded like just the thing—but she didn’t care to be distracted by his handsome face.

  She winced. That wasn’t the first time she’d thought of Travis in that light, and she needed to stop. It wasn’t fitting. It was no secret he hoped to find another tracker. But a vision of the man lifting her shoulders off the pillow to give her a drink haunted her thoughts. She could still smell his masculine scent—wood smoke mixed with some kind of cologne. He must have shaved before coming to her room and stopped to stoke the fire in the potbellied stove. She’d wanted to close her eyes and breathe in the fragrance, but she’d steeled herself against it. It was hard enough maintaining an aloof attitude with him hovering so close.

  Angel walked down the hall and entered the kitchen, pausing to make sure no one but Smokey was there. A cheerful whistle broke from the man’s lips as he scraped a dish into a pan on the sideboard. “Smokey?”

  “Huh?” The heavyset man moved fast for his size and whirled around, nearly dropping the plate. “Angel. You liked to scare me out of seven-years’ growth.” He patted his bulging belly and laughed. “Not that I need to do any more growin’, mind you.” He peered at her under lowered brows. “What you doin’ out of bed? Ain’t you supposed to stay put till the doc says you can get up?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “Nope. Doc said yesterday that I was mending real well. Besides, my body aches from lying abed so long. And I’m hungry. I can’t have people waiting on me any longer, so I aim to fend for myself.”

  Smokey hurried across the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the small table near the stove. “You sit yourself down this minute. Someone ought to knock me upside the head with a good stout branch for not bringin’ you a plate a’whilst ago. Libby’s gonna scold me when she finds out yer not in bed.”

  “No, she won’t. I’ll tell her it was my idea, and I’m feeling fine. In fact, I’m ready to go back to work.”

  “I don’t think so, young lady.” Travis’s gentle rebuke sent a shiver up Angel’s spine and she spun around in her chair.

  He leaned against the doorjamb wearing a serious expression. “When you’re finished eating, you should head back to your room. No work until Doc Simmons says, and even then I might want you to wait another day just to be sure.”

  Angel pushed back her chair and stood, uncertainty nearly making her mute. Hadn’t Travis implied that he was anxious for her to get back to work? She frowned. “I’m tired of lying around.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m your boss, and you won’t go back to work till I say.”

  She gritted her teeth and restrained a sharp retort. Why was this man so difficult? “Fine. I won’t work today, but I’m not staying in that room another minute.”

  Travis straightened and the corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “Good.” His lips continued their upward tilt until a full-blown grin broke free. “I’m glad we got that settled. And I don’t expect you to stay in your room—just off your horse.”

  Angel wanted to throw something at him. He was her boss, but that didn’t give him the right to—to—boss her around. Her thoughts ground to a halt, and she slumped back into her chair. Last night she’d lain awake worrying she’d lose this job, and now she wanted nothing more than to challenge the man who had it in his power to take it away. What was wrong with her, anyway?

  “All right.” She dropped her gaze to the table as Smokey slid a plate of bread, eggs, and applesauce under her nose. “Thanks, Smokey.” She smiled. “What a treat! Where did you get applesauce?”

  His face turned a rosy hue, and he twisted his apron in work-roughened hands. “I had a few jars put away for a special occasion, and the boss suggested you might like some. ‘Sides, I figured you get-tin’ well qualifies as a special occasion.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and she turned away. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Travis had told Smokey to fix her something special? The thought nearly choked her. No one but José had ever looked out for her that way since her parents died.

  “Don’t need to say nothin’; just eat up and enjoy.” He backed away and scurried to the wash pan, plunging a dish into the water and rattling it energetically.

  Angel dipped her spoon into the golden concoction and lifted it to her mouth, savoring the flavor as it lingered on her tongue. She hadn’t had anything this wonderful since she was a youngster. Her uncle once brought home canned peaches after a trip to town. They’d tasted better than any candy she’d ever had, and she’d cried when she’d eaten the last bite. What had prompted Travis to part with such a precious gift?

  Travis cleared his throat, and she raised her chin. Her fingers trembled. She placed the spoon carefully next to her bowl and dropped her hands into her lap. “Thank you for thinking of me. This was lovely.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He pushed himself away from the doorjamb. “Libby said you wanted to talk to me.”

  Angel glanced at Smokey and shook her head. “It’s not important.”

  Travis followed her gaze and seemed to understand. “Why don’t you stop by my office a little later?”

  She shrugged. “Like I said, it’s nothing.”

  Travis turned his head and took a step toward the next room. “I hear a buggy. Doc Simmons must be here. You finish your breakfast, and I’ll see him in.”

  Angel waited till he’d left the room, then picked up her spoon and devoured the last of the applesauce. “That was wonderful, Smokey. Thank you so much.” She took a mouthful of her bread and stabbed at the eggs with her fork. “I guess I worked up an appetite lying in that room the past few days.”

  Smokey’s laugh rumbled across the room. “Glad to hear it. I like to see people enjoy my food.”

  “Is Libby here?” Angel lifted the bread to her mouth and chewed slowly.

  “Yeah. I think she’s upstairs havin’ a little chat with James. It’s been so busy around here lately, she’s been neglectin’ the lad.” His eyes suddenly widened, and his lips parted. “I’m sorry. That was a blamed thing to say. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

  Angel pasted on a smile. “It’s all right. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bother.” She laid her fork next to her plate and pushed it away.

  “You ain’t been, Miss Angel. Honest.” He heaved a big sigh and twisted his towel into a knot. “Between Libby, Travis, and me—why, we’ve been plumb honored to care for you. Glad you’re up and around for your own sake, but you weren’t no bother a’tall.”

  Smokey swiveled toward the footfalls coming down the staircase, along with louder ones following. Libby walked into the kitchen, her amber skirt swishing around her ankles, and James appeared close behind. He skidded to a halt and stared at Angel. “You’re up! Boy howdy, I thought you’d never come out of that room. When can you take me shooting?”

  Libby pivoted and glared at her son. “James. She’s barely out of bed and probably needs to head straight back now that she’s eaten. Besides, no one said you could go shooting.”

  James’s lips drooped in a pout. “Miss Angel said she’d take me.”

  Angel blinked a few times, surprised at the declaration. “No, James, I didn’t. I said I’d consider it. But if your mother doesn’t approve, I won’t.”

  “Not fair.” James kicked at an imaginary object on the floor. “Nobody lets me do anything fun around this place. I want to go back to San Francisco.” He bolted from the room and raced back up the stairs.

  Angel dropped her head and pushed a strand of hair from her face, wishing she’d braided it before coming to breakfast. Why had James lied? Of course, the boy was probably merely excited about the prospect of doing something new and hadn’t thou
ght of it as anything more. Too bad Libby didn’t seem inclined to let him spread his wings and learn more about ranch life.

  Libby stepped forward and touched Angel’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about that. James doesn’t always think before he speaks.”

  “It’s all right. And I’d be happy to take him with me sometime, if you agree.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Libby sank into a chair across from Angel. “It’s not that I don’t approve of what you do for a living, it’s just that—“ She seemed to search for the right words. “This is such a harsh, unforgiving land. My brother has changed so much since coming here, and sometimes I’m afraid for my son.”

  “Of what? You’re right, it’s a rugged land, but it makes men stronger. I’d imagine your brother is an example of how this country helps mold a man into someone more than he was.”

  “And sometimes it breaks them, or turns them toward things better left alone.” Libby expelled a sigh. “I know it means a lot to James, and I have allowed him to ride with both Travis and Nate. I’ll think about it.”

  Angel opened her mouth to reply, but an unfamiliar woman’s voice stilled her words. That surely wasn’t the doctor. Could he have brought his wife on his rounds, possibly to visit with Libby? She turned her gaze toward the doorway leading into the living room.

  Travis entered with a petite, dark-haired woman who appeared to be in her early sixties. Her small hand rested within the crook of Travis’s elbow, and her free hand adjusted the black velvet hat perched on her salt-and-pepper curls. A black satin dress hugged her slender form and was amazingly free from the dust that typically accompanied travelers. Her sparkling, dark brown eyes darted from Angel to Libby and back again, settling with shimmering warmth on Angel. With a quick movement she released her grip on Travis’s arm and raised her hands in the air. “This is her, Signor? This is la mia nipo-tina, my granddaughter? The child of my beloved Maria?”

  Travis glanced across the room at Angel and nodded. “If Angel Ramirez is your granddaughter, then yes, Signora de Luca, that’s her.”