getting cold.” He turned toward Angel and nodded at the chair on the far side. “Why don’t you sit there? Libby has the seat beside you.”
Angel wasn’t sure which was worse—trying to avoid the smitten cowboys or making conversation with Libby Waters. The woman was polite enough on the surface, but in her gut Angel knew Libby wasn’t happy about her living here. She drew out the chair and sank onto its hard surface. Everything would look better when she was in the saddle and on her own.
Libby smoothed the napkin on her lap and chanced a peek at the strange woman sitting beside her. Angel Ramirez had been silent most of the meal, with only an occasional yes or no. Libby had tried to draw her out but got little return. She gave a mental shrug. The young woman wouldn’t fit at any society party that she’d encountered— why, she didn’t even seem comfortable in a roomful of men.
Part of her felt sorry for the girl. She seemed so alone—unsure of herself. Although that hadn’t been the case when Miss Ramirez shot at the coins. Libby frowned. What made a woman want to dress like a man and hunt animals? Every woman she’d known enjoyed improving her feminine skills, eager to preside over her own home one day. All her life, she’d hungered for a family of her own—a husband who cherished her and a house full of happy children. George had loved her the best way he knew how, but she’d never known true contentment.
She shook off the troubling feelings. The last thing she wanted was a strange, taciturn woman underfoot. But she would be kind. Since early childhood she’d been taught to be polite. Not to be rude. Accept. Smile. Be gracious.
Her shoulders slumped. This was not her home. It belonged to her brother, and he set the rules. She would do this. She would tolerate this woman playing at being a man and even be courteous.
Maybe this Angel person might one day be a friend.
She almost laughed aloud at the thought and chanced another glance at the girl. No. She’d wager Angel wouldn’t last long enough for that to happen. Travis wasn’t happy about the arrangement, and from the stubborn set of the girl’s face, neither was she.
Travis sat at the end of the table and kicked himself. Why had he put that woman so close? He could have placed Libby beside him, then his new hand, then James, and still protect her from the moonstruck cowboys. And why should he protect her, anyway? She’d posed as a man all this time and surely could take care of herself.
He twisted in his seat and raised his voice above the hubbub. “Smokey. Got any more of those flapjacks?”
The portly cook bustled out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on an apron and raising bushy brows. “More?” He eyed the empty platter and let out a guffaw, his breath wheezing between parted lips. “Wren, you hawg! How does a man your size put away so much food?”
Wren looked up from his plate piled six deep and grinned, the fork poised inches from his mouth. “I work circles around the rest of these geezers.”
The room erupted in hoots and would have continued had Travis not lifted his hand. “All right, men, let’s show a little respect for the ladies.” He nodded toward Libby and Angel, and the room instantly quieted.
Bud plucked his napkin from his lap, swiped at his lips, and covered a belch. “Sorry, ma’am.” Color rose in his cheeks.
“Ha! You blush better than any woman I ever did see, Bud.” Arizona crowed the words. “Now your face matches your hair, jest fine and dandy.”
Bud dropped his napkin and leaned forward, all sign of merriment gone. “Want to meet me outside and see who’s a woman, cowpoke?”
Arizona pushed back his chair, the legs scraping the floor. “Sure thing, pard. Let’s have at it.”
Angel emitted a strangled sound and turned her head, but not before Travis saw amusement dance in her eyes.
Libby gasped, and her fingers flew to her lips. “Oh my. Travis, are you going to allow your men to
Angel wasn’t sure which was worse—trying to avoid the smitten cowboys or making conversation with Libby Waters. The woman was polite enough on the surface, but in her gut Angel knew Libby wasn’t happy about her living here. She drew out the chair and sank onto its hard surface. Everything would look better when she was in the saddle and on her own.
Libby smoothed the napkin on her lap and chanced a peek at the strange woman sitting beside her. Angel Ramirez had been silent most of the meal, with only an occasional yes or no. Libby had tried to draw her out but got little return. She gave a mental shrug. The young woman wouldn’t fit at any society party that she’d encountered— why, she didn’t even seem comfortable in a roomful of men.
Part of her felt sorry for the girl. She seemed so alone—unsure of herself. Although that hadn’t been the case when Miss Ramirez shot at the coins. Libby frowned. What made a woman want to dress like a man and hunt animals? Every woman she’d known enjoyed improving her feminine skills, eager to preside over her own home one day. All her life, she’d hungered for a family of her own—a husband who cherished her and a house full of happy children. George had loved her the best way he knew how, but she’d never known true contentment.
She shook off the troubling feelings. The last thing she wanted was a strange, taciturn woman underfoot. But she would be kind. Since early childhood she’d been taught to be polite. Not to be rude. Accept. Smile. Be gracious.
Her shoulders slumped. This was not her home. It belonged to her brother, and he set the rules. She would do this. She would tolerate this woman playing at being a man and even be courteous.
Maybe this Angel person might one day be a friend.
She almost laughed aloud at the thought and chanced another glance at the girl. No. She’d wager Angel wouldn’t last long enough for that to happen. Travis wasn’t happy about the arrangement, and from the stubborn set of the girl’s face, neither was she.
Travis sat at the end of the table and kicked himself. Why had he put that woman so close? He could have placed Libby beside him, then his new hand, then James, and still protect her from the moonstruck cowboys. And why should he protect her, anyway? She’d posed as a man all this time and surely could take care of herself.
He twisted in his seat and raised his voice above the hubbub. “Smokey. Got any more of those flapjacks?”
The portly cook bustled out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on an apron and raising bushy brows. “More?” He eyed the empty platter and let out a guffaw, his breath wheezing between parted lips. “Wren, you hawg! How does a man your size put away so much food?”
Wren looked up from his plate piled six deep and grinned, the fork poised inches from his mouth. “I work circles around the rest of these geezers.”
The room erupted in hoots and would have continued had Travis not lifted his hand. “All right, men, let’s show a little respect for the ladies.” He nodded toward Libby and Angel, and the room instantly quieted.
Bud plucked his napkin from his lap, swiped at his lips, and covered a belch. “Sorry, ma’am.” Color rose in his cheeks.
“Ha! You blush better than any woman I ever did see, Bud.” Arizona crowed the words. “Now your face matches your hair, jest fine and dandy.”
Bud dropped his napkin and leaned forward, all sign of merriment gone. “Want to meet me outside and see who’s a woman, cowpoke?”
Arizona pushed back his chair, the legs scraping the floor. “Sure thing, pard. Let’s have at it.”
Angel emitted a strangled sound and turned her head, but not before Travis saw amusement dance in her eyes.
Libby gasped, and her fingers flew to her lips. “Oh my. Travis, are you going to allow your men to
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