Not the Marrying Kind (5 page)

“Sorry to hear it.”

“No, you’re not. You didn’t know her, you
don’t know him. Furthermore, you’ll be a damned sight sorrier if
your cousin dies, too, especially if he dies because you were too
pig-headed to let me treat him.”

“Is there a third option?”

She nodded. “There’s a doctor in Denver. A
real doctor,” she added, sarcasm reeking from every word. “You want
to ride to Denver, bring him back here, go ahead. But your cousin
will be dead and gone long before you and that real doctor get
back.”

Joshua scratched at the thick, black beard.
“Guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Sure you do,” she replied, unfastening the
clasp on the bag and spreading it open. She looked up at him.
“There are always choices in life. Sometimes we just don’t like the
choices we’re given. Now, step aside, please.”

He nodded and moved out of her way.

While the woman who called herself a doctor
worked on Cody, Joshua tackled the cabin. If his cousin lived, he’d
need a clean bed, fresh air, and a healthy environment, free from
contamination and clutter. He wasn’t sure which of them faced the
bigger challenge.

A search of the shed turned up a few
cleaning supplies—a mop, a bucket, a handful of rags, and a couple
of scrub brushes. Muttering under his breath, Joshua carried
everything inside. For the next hour he swept up sawdust, washed
the soot from the walls, scrubbed every plank of the wood floor,
and stripped the cot where Cody slept. Rummaging through the
bureau, he located a supply of clean bed linens his cousin had
apparently purchased but never bothered to use.

He carried a few outside. “Can you use any
of these for bandages?”

The woman nodded and smiled. “I think he’ll
live. He’s a lucky man. If he’d done this to himself while he was
alone, he wouldn’t have survived. He’s lucky too that you’ll be
here to take care of him.”

“Yeah, reckon it was a good thing I was
here, all right.” Relieved but shaken by the morning’s events, and
worn from his efforts at putting the cabin to rights, Joshua walked
slowly toward the front door. He’d lost his walking stick
somewhere. Must still be out by the corral where he’d slept, he
guessed. Later, he’d look for it. Right now, he wanted to sit down,
take the weight off his own injured limb, and rest for a spell.

“Mister?”

“Yeah?” He glanced back over his shoulder at
the woman.

“You’ve got quite a limp there. You hurt
too? I could take a look—”

He shook his head before she even finished.
“No need. It’s healed up.”

“Old war wound?”

“Guess you could call it that.” With a shrug
about as half-hearted as Cody had given him the night before,
Joshua moved on toward the cabin.

He had little chance to rest. The woman
couldn’t move Cody without help. Even with both of them working
together, getting him lifted up, carried inside, and put into his
own bed took a while. Finally, leaving Cody to rest undisturbed,
they stepped outside again.

“It’s a little late for introductions,
maybe, but I’m Amanda Phillips. From the Rocking P Ranch. You
probably passed through our land on your way out here.”

Joshua’s muscles tensed. “I’m real sorry
about that, ma’am. I didn’t realize I was trespassing. I didn’t
mean any harm.”

“No cause for concern. I doubt you caused
any.”

Her pleasant laugh made Joshua smile. Then
he remembered when and where he’d seen eyes that shade of blue
before.

“I cleaned him up,” she continued, nodding
her head toward the cabin, “and I got him all stitched back
together. He’ll be mighty weak for a while. Of course, I guess you
probably know that.” She glanced toward his leg. “Gunshot?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Gunshot, knife, or woodchopper’s axe,
recovery’s about the same either way.”

“I think I can take care of him.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” She brushed a
wisp of reddish-gray hair away from her cheek. “You know where to
find me if you have any problems.”

“Yes, ma’am. The Rocking P Ranch.”

“Right.”

She extended her hand, and although it
seemed a bit odd, Joshua grasped it and shook it. Women in the
Colorado Territory, he guessed, were a different breed from ones
he’d known back home.

“What do I owe you for your services,
ma’am?”

“Nothing more than your word that you’ll
take care of him. I’m not a real doctor, you know. Wouldn’t be
right for me to be sending you a bill.” She laughed again. “I only
charge for delivering babies, and I don’t think you’ll be needing
those services around here.”

“Lord, I hope not.” More at ease now, Joshua
laughed and walked alongside her as she returned to her wagon. “By
the way, ma’am, I’m real sorry for my bad attitude when you first
got here. Guess I was just a mite surprised. A mite shaken up too,
I suppose.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She climbed up,
unfastened the reins, and slapped them over the horse’s back.
Without another word, she headed off.

Joshua turned back to the cabin, then
stopped and swung his body back around. “Wait, ma’am!” he called
after her. She’d forgotten her medical bag. Moving as fast as he
could, he returned to the porch, grabbed the bag, and spun around
again. Much too late. The wagon had already disappeared over the
ridge. No way could he catch her now.

He glanced toward the corral. He could
saddle up Bronco and ride after Amanda Phillips, but that would
mean leaving Cody alone. Better not take any chances. If she needed
her medical supplies, she’d surely come back to get them, and if
not…well, it’d be right neighborly of him to deliver the bag to the
Rocking P Ranch once Cody was out of danger.

Maybe I’ll even ask about that job.

Joshua grinned. He’d heard they just might
be looking for a foreman. And that long-legged redhead just might
be looking for a husband…even if she didn’t know it yet.

The steady rhythm of an approaching horse
caught Kat’s attention. She looked up, and her heart skipped a beat
when she saw the handsome stranger she’d met in the foothills
astride his powerful dark bay gelding. She smiled, waved, and
stepped out from the corral where she’d been brushing Sadie, her
favorite mare.

“You here about the job?” she asked when he
drew near. Already her mind was scrambling. How could she tell him
he’d ridden all the way to the ranch for nothing, that there really
wasn’t a job available? She’d mentioned it to Pa, and he’d nearly
fallen out of his chair laughing. Running a ranch, even with the
help of a good foreman, was no job for a young lady.

“Actually, I came to return this.” He
reached around behind him, then held up a black bag.

Kat recognized it as one—of many—belonging
to her mother. Mrs. Phillips owned at least a dozen satchels and
kept them all well-stocked with everything from smelling salts to
Carter’s Little Liver Pills, the newest patent medicine being
touted back east. She believed in staying abreast of the latest
advances. Kat suspected most of those pills and tablets and creams
and ointments her mother carried around probably never cured half
the ailments they claimed. At least, the breast creams she’d tried
when nobody was looking hadn’t done a thing.

“Yeah, Mama said your cousin tried to take
his leg off with an axe. How’s he doing?”

“Wasn’t nearly that bad. He’s doing well.
Thanks for asking.”

“Mama’s got a way of exaggerating at times.”
Kat stepped forward and took the bag. “Thanks for bringing this
back. I’m sure she’ll be grateful.” She turned away, guessing the
man must have forgotten about her half-cocked job offer. Or maybe
he just wasn’t interested.

“Say, missy, you ever figure out if you were
going to be hiring here?”

Nope, he hadn’t forgotten. Yep, he was
interested. Damn the luck!

Kat stopped and glanced over her shoulder.
“Well, yes.” She blinked. “I mean, no.” Flummoxed by the way he
looked at her, she bit down on her lip, hoping to hold back a
barrage of crazy words. She could feel them building up inside her
brain, dozens of different utterances all rushing to the tip of her
tongue, ready to spill out in no specific order.

“Excuse me?” The man leaned forward, his
hands resting on the pommel of his saddle. “I don’t quite see how
it could be both, missy. Either you are or you aren’t.”

She’d looked away again and didn’t want to
turn to face him. Judging from the heat flaming in her cheeks, her
face was probably about as red as her hair, and she hated it when
she got flustered and embarrassed. Her brother used to always tease
her for it.

When she finally twisted about to look at
the horse and rider again, Kat had to suck in a deep breath to
steady herself. For some reason, her knees had gone weak. “You
asked if we’d figured out whether or not we were hiring, and the
answer to that question is, ‘yes, we have’, but no, we’re not going
to be hiring right now, and I didn’t want you to get the wrong
impression, mister, and think that I meant we were, because we’re
not, so that’s why—”

“Katherine? What’s going on out here? Who’s
that?”

Surprised by her father’s voice, she whirled
around again, nearly tripping over her own two feet. “Pa, what are
you doing? You’re supposed to be resting.”

He stood on the porch stoop, and she
wondered how much he’d heard. Her father insisted on controlling
every aspect of the ranch. Being sick had slowed him down, but
nothing had stopped him—yet. As always, he needed to know what was
happening at all times.

Her gaze darted toward the dark-haired rider
with the shaggy, black beard. She didn’t even know his name. Maybe
Mama had mentioned it, but if so, Kat must not have been paying
attention.

The man spoke up. “Joshua Barron, sir.”

“He brought Mama’s bag back. She left it. At
his cousin’s place.” Kat held up the satchel. “Cody Bradford. You
know, Pa, that fellow who lives out in the woods. The one that
whittles all those mallards and mergansers out of pine. You know,
that crazy guy.” For pity’s sake, couldn’t she just
shut up
for once? She clamped her free hand over her mouth and forced
herself to keep quiet.

“I also came to inquire about a job,” the
man said, directing his words toward Pa. “But Katherine here says
you’re not looking for any help.” He smiled down at her. “Nice
name,” he told her in a quiet aside. “Very pretty.”

Her blush deepened. She stared down at the
toes of her dusty boots.

Pa took a step forward and made one of his
harrumphing
noises. A brief silence followed, and then came
another noisy
harrumph.
“That’s what she told you, is it?
Well, I don’t see that it’s my daughter’s place to make the
decisions around here. Last I knew, the Rocking P Ranch belonged to
me.”

Kat’s head jerked up. What in hell was her
pa doing? What was he saying? Her heart raced with some wild and
crazy hope that maybe he’d changed his mind, but that would never
happen in a million years, so why was she getting all worked up
about it? She couldn’t remember her father ever changing his mind
about anything. Not once. Not ever.

“Reckon you need to climb down from that
saddle, Mr. Barron. If I’m going to talk business with a man, I’m
going to do it face to face.” He leveled a steady gaze at Kat.
“Take his horse, Katherine. Mr. Barron and I will be in my study.
Don’t disturb us.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Barron tossed her the reins and swung
his leg over the horse’s back. His slow, awkward movements caught
Kat’s attention. As she led the gelding toward the corral, she kept
her eyes on the man. When he walked, she noticed, he favored his
left leg. She stood silently, watching him limp across the grassy
yard toward her father, and the last of her fleeting hopes flitted
away.

Even if Pa were looking for a foreman—which
he wasn’t—he’d never hire Joshua Barron. Ranching required strength
and stamina, quickness and coordination. Despite his powerful
muscles and broad shoulders, this man would be a liability, not an
asset, on the range.

Kat ran a hand over the bay’s black mane and
let out a long sigh.

* * * *

Joshua followed as Mr. Phillips led him into
the house then ushered him into a small, dark-paneled room with
heavy furnishings and a desk strewn with papers. Instinctively
Joshua drew back. He didn’t like cramped, confined spaces. Already
the walls seemed to be closing in on him.

“Have a seat,” Phillips directed. “You come
to see about buying this place?”

Joshua settled himself into a comfortable
chair, grateful for the opportunity to stretch his leg out. He
leaned back. “It’s for sale?”

The older man grunted. “Time for me to move
on, Mr. Barron. By the way, you’ll have to forgive my daughter.
She’s a bit blunt at times.”

Joshua gave a slight nod. To his way of
thinking, forgiveness should be reserved for those who’d done
wrong. He didn’t see where Katherine Phillips had committed any
grievous sins. She’d spoken the truth about Cody. He was a crazy
coot.

Dirk Phillips opened a humidor and pulled
out a cigar. He glanced toward Joshua. “Care for a smoke?” He
handed one to him, then took out another and smiled. “Wife of mine
doesn’t care much for these, doesn’t want me enjoying them. Thinks
they’re bad for me.” He chuckled. “You know how women can be once
they get an idea in their heads.” He struck a match, lit both his
cigar and Joshua’s, then puffed out huge wreaths of thick, gray
smoke. “Like my daughter,” he went on, “thinking she needs to run
this place for me.”

“Where in hell would she get a damned fool
idea like that?” Joshua hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until his
host gave him a sharp look.

“I don’t condone cursing, Mr. Barron.”