it.”
“Then I suppose you might have something else
I can take to Heavenly? If I'm going to go, I'd better get started.
Maybe you could just harness the horse for me—”
He looked at her as though she'd lost her
mind. “You're not going alone.” The flat declaration hung between
them.
“Well, yes, I am. It's part of my job to
stock the kitchen. Everyone else is busy.” Libby twiddled with her
collar button, wondering why he found that odd. He so obviously
expected all the men to do their part, and she meant to do
hers.
He lifted his brows and looked exasperated
again. “Mrs. Ross, in the first place, the wagon I'm thinking of
needs a team of four horses to pull it. You'll have to get one of
the boys to drive you. Secondly, even if you were going to Heavenly
just to buy hairpins, someone from the Lodestar would go with you.
I won't allow a woman to go anywhere alone around here, especially
a city-bred woman.”
He said “city-bred” in a way that made it
sound as though she wouldn't even have the wits to come in from a
rainstorm. “Why ever not? I drove to town by myself from Ben's
place, and that was sixteen miles from Heavenly. And anyway, all of
your men are—”
He closed up the desk with a soft thud. “Luck
got you there, not skill. And you weren't my responsibility then.
But you are now, and will be as long as you're at the
Lodestar.”
His responsibility? She'd left Chicago,
heartbroken and disgraced, had traveled thirteen hundred hard
miles, survived the horrible winter with Ben, watched him die in
that tiny cabin, and buried him by herself. No one had been
responsible for her then, or really even worried about what
happened to her. She wasn't going to let this man treat her like a
helpless child now. “You are not responsible for me, Mr. Hollins. I
can take care of myself. Besides, there's no one—”
He gave her a look of absolute
authority, and his words dropped to a decisive tone. “I am
responsible for everyone and everything on this place, from the
smallest calf on up to you and Rory and Joe. And that's my job, Mrs. Ross—”
Libby winced.
“What's the matter?” he snapped, seeing her
expression.
The impatient note in his voice was
intimidating, but she braved it through. “Mr. Hollins, really, I
wish everyone here would just call me Libby.”
He stared at her, then combed his fingers
through his chestnut hair. Just briefly, his autocratic confidence
slipped and he seemed almost self-conscious.
“Well, uh—Lib— No, let's just leave things as
they are, Mrs. Ross.”
She felt her ears and cheeks burn with
embarrassment. Certainly, he was right, she thought. Better that
they remain as formal as possible. But she wasn't used to it, and
oh how she wished her name was still Garrison. It would be again,
she promised herself, just as soon as she left Montana.
He gestured at the receipt she still held.
“Get what's on that list, and anything else you think you'll need.
Nort Osmer will add it all to the Lodestar account. Now go ask Joe
to have someone hitch the wagon and take you to town.”
“Mr. Hollins, I've been trying to tell you
that they've gone, all your men. I watched them ride away just a
few minutes ago. I believe I heard Joe say they were going
somewhere he called the southwest line. And Charlie went someplace
else with three of the others.”
“Damn it, that's right,” he groused. “The
north range.” He let out an exasperated sigh and looked around the
office, as though he might find a way out of this predicament in
the log walls. Finally he brought his eyes back to her.
“Well, saddle up, Mrs. Ross. We're going to
Heavenly.”
Chapter Four
T yler and Libby
jounced along without speaking, following the rutted road that led
to Heavenly. The silence was broken only by the rattling wagon, and
the jingle of harness. The low clouds lifted a bit as the morning
and miles passed. But the wind, blowing down from Canada, still
held a piercing chill.
Tyler
“Then I suppose you might have something else
I can take to Heavenly? If I'm going to go, I'd better get started.
Maybe you could just harness the horse for me—”
He looked at her as though she'd lost her
mind. “You're not going alone.” The flat declaration hung between
them.
“Well, yes, I am. It's part of my job to
stock the kitchen. Everyone else is busy.” Libby twiddled with her
collar button, wondering why he found that odd. He so obviously
expected all the men to do their part, and she meant to do
hers.
He lifted his brows and looked exasperated
again. “Mrs. Ross, in the first place, the wagon I'm thinking of
needs a team of four horses to pull it. You'll have to get one of
the boys to drive you. Secondly, even if you were going to Heavenly
just to buy hairpins, someone from the Lodestar would go with you.
I won't allow a woman to go anywhere alone around here, especially
a city-bred woman.”
He said “city-bred” in a way that made it
sound as though she wouldn't even have the wits to come in from a
rainstorm. “Why ever not? I drove to town by myself from Ben's
place, and that was sixteen miles from Heavenly. And anyway, all of
your men are—”
He closed up the desk with a soft thud. “Luck
got you there, not skill. And you weren't my responsibility then.
But you are now, and will be as long as you're at the
Lodestar.”
His responsibility? She'd left Chicago,
heartbroken and disgraced, had traveled thirteen hundred hard
miles, survived the horrible winter with Ben, watched him die in
that tiny cabin, and buried him by herself. No one had been
responsible for her then, or really even worried about what
happened to her. She wasn't going to let this man treat her like a
helpless child now. “You are not responsible for me, Mr. Hollins. I
can take care of myself. Besides, there's no one—”
He gave her a look of absolute
authority, and his words dropped to a decisive tone. “I am
responsible for everyone and everything on this place, from the
smallest calf on up to you and Rory and Joe. And that's my job, Mrs. Ross—”
Libby winced.
“What's the matter?” he snapped, seeing her
expression.
The impatient note in his voice was
intimidating, but she braved it through. “Mr. Hollins, really, I
wish everyone here would just call me Libby.”
He stared at her, then combed his fingers
through his chestnut hair. Just briefly, his autocratic confidence
slipped and he seemed almost self-conscious.
“Well, uh—Lib— No, let's just leave things as
they are, Mrs. Ross.”
She felt her ears and cheeks burn with
embarrassment. Certainly, he was right, she thought. Better that
they remain as formal as possible. But she wasn't used to it, and
oh how she wished her name was still Garrison. It would be again,
she promised herself, just as soon as she left Montana.
He gestured at the receipt she still held.
“Get what's on that list, and anything else you think you'll need.
Nort Osmer will add it all to the Lodestar account. Now go ask Joe
to have someone hitch the wagon and take you to town.”
“Mr. Hollins, I've been trying to tell you
that they've gone, all your men. I watched them ride away just a
few minutes ago. I believe I heard Joe say they were going
somewhere he called the southwest line. And Charlie went someplace
else with three of the others.”
“Damn it, that's right,” he groused. “The
north range.” He let out an exasperated sigh and looked around the
office, as though he might find a way out of this predicament in
the log walls. Finally he brought his eyes back to her.
“Well, saddle up, Mrs. Ross. We're going to
Heavenly.”
Chapter Four
T yler and Libby
jounced along without speaking, following the rutted road that led
to Heavenly. The silence was broken only by the rattling wagon, and
the jingle of harness. The low clouds lifted a bit as the morning
and miles passed. But the wind, blowing down from Canada, still
held a piercing chill.
Tyler
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