Black Hills Bride (3 page)

But a decision had to be made, and made now, where Erik Wheeler was concerned.

She extended her hand to him, and this time he took it. He had a strong, firm shake, with broad, callused hands that had seen many years of hard labor. A country man, not afraid of a little hard work.

Work hard, play hard.

The quote came unbidden to her mind, and she smiled. She couldn’t imagine this strong, silent cowboy
playing
at anything.

“If you could come back tomorrow, we can survey the damage to the barn and decide what needs to be built. I know this place doesn’t seem like much, but it will be.” Enthusiasm swelled in her heart as the finished picture entered her mind.

Happy children running around in front of the main lodge, bouncing toddlers taking pony rides, whole families spending quality time together with each other and the Lord.

“I’ll need your help assessing the damage. And if I can get you to hire the work crews—I know we’ll need carpenters and horsemen. You know the people in town better than I do.”

She added silently that if everyone in Custer was as hard a sell as Erik Wheeler, she was never going to get her retreat finished in time for her church family to make their visit.

Absently she reached out for her notepad. She barely leaned on the table, but that was all it took.

The table cracked loudly, and she jumped back, startled. Her notepad went airborne, papers flying every which direction. And the heap of wood that had once been the table looked no more salvageable than the stable doors had been. Firewood at best; and at worst, another mess for her to clean up.

“Not again!” she wailed, then clamped her mouth shut when she realized Erik was listening. She didn’t want to appear to be losing faith in front of him.

But it had been a very long day.

“Lady,” he drawled slowly, then paused.

She whirled at the sound of his chuckle.

The corner of his mouth tipped into a crooked grin. “You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

E
rik chuckled all the way back to the dump of a mobile home planted on his pathetic little piece of land. He scanned the familiar rolling hills and sighed.

Not even enough room for a small herd of horses, never mind what he envisioned if things were the way he wanted them to be.

But then things never were. He’d learned that as a child. Best he keep his thoughts to himself and just do whatever the little lady and her grand ideas dictated.

She’d learn the hard truth soon enough. And that’d put him out of a job again. But maybe, if she lasted long enough, he might be able to manage to get a green broke colt and filly out of it.

A good solid quarter horse stallion and a feisty Arab mare. The best of both worlds. If he were allowed to pick his own stock, that is.

It would be the break he needed, the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Adrenaline rushed through him just thinking about it. His own herd of horses. Eventually he could get a better tract of land, and then—

He cut his own thoughts short. He knew he was dreaming. But there was a very real possibility he could humor her along for that one chance to get back on his feet again and make something of himself. It was a small price to pay, all things considered.

His biggest problem was the woman herself. Dixie Sullivan was one stubborn woman. He’d realized that from the time the stable door fell crashing down on top of her. That alone would have stopped most people right in their tracks.

And she’d just dusted off her fancy designer jeans and plowed on.

In the general way of things, he made it a practice to keep his nose out of other people’s business. All a man got from meddling was a sore nose.

The corner of his mouth made the tiniest quirk as he appreciated his own humor.

But that still left him with a beautiful, helpless city woman determined to camp out alone on her land with nothing more than a tent.

She knew nothing about these woods, nothing about camping out, yet she was determined to break this bronc single-handedly. Stubborn woman.

And tongue-tyingly beautiful.

Erik’s black-and-white Border collie, Lucy, trotted up to him from where she’d been lying in the shade of a pine. She barked hello and he leaned down to rub behind her ears, making a low, pleasant growling sound from the back of his throat that elicited the same response in her.

She barked again and made a play-bow, her tail wagging in anticipation. He smiled down at her, glad for her companionship, the only one who liked having him around.

He’d rescued her as a pup, when, as the runt of the litter and having one blue eye and one brown eye, she was going to be drowned. Poor little thing. His heart had got the best of him, and he’d taken her home. Lucy suited him just fine, and he suited her.

Lucy was the one female he trusted, a little reminder of stability in a world gone haywire. She always acted in a predictable way, and she never expected him to talk. Quiet, peaceful companionship with few expectations.

If only human females shared the same traits.

Lucy brought him a stick and he threw it for her, his mind wandering back to his predicament. If Dixie listened to his advice, she wouldn’t be putting herself in any danger, which is exactly what she was doing with that ridiculous tent notion of hers.

The commonsense thing for her to do would be to check into a motel in Custer until the work on the place was finished, if it ever got that far. But when he’d suggested as much, she just shook her head and fervently declined. She didn’t, she informed him in an icy tone, need anyone to watch over her. She was fine on her own, thank you very much.

Except for the bears, wolves and who knew what other scavengers might just be waiting to prey on her, he’d reminded her. And she hadn’t even batted an eyelash at his poorly concealed threat.

Okay, maybe he was exaggerating a little about the animals, but it had been known to happen. Rare, but possible. Especially since the land she was on hadn’t been used much recently.

It was none of his business what that crazy woman did or didn’t do. If a bear ate her, it would serve her right.

Lucy dropped the stick in his palm and he tossed it for her again.

He should forget about her, he decided with a frown. Her problems didn’t concern him. But even as he thought it, he whistled for Lucy to come back to him.

“C’mon, girl,” he growled reluctantly. “Let’s go see how the little lady’s managing.”

The
little lady
wasn’t
managing
at all. In fact, she was lying faceup on a flat bed of canvas, staring at the bright-blue Dakota sky and wondering if pioneers really did sleep under the stars.

Because that’s what she was going to be doing if she didn’t get her act together and this stupid tent off the ground. And at this point it looked pretty hopeless.

The box said Easy Assembly in big letters. Ten Minutes, it said. No Tools Needed.

Ha! She expected she needed at
least
a hammer and a hundred nails to get the tent to stand. A hammer she had, but other than the pegs that came in the box, she was out of business.

In theory it was simple. She pushed the long, plastic tubes through all the little canvas tunnels, and then the bundle of rumpled material was supposed to transform into something she could sleep in.

Not
on. In.

But every time she tried to stand it up, it made a funny springing sound and fell into a heap. She stared at the lines and pegs, with which she was supposed to tie off the tent when it was assembled.

Assembled, hah!

Maybe she should go back to town and stay in a motel room, as Erik had suggested. At least for the night. It had been a hard day, after all, and nothing sounded more appealing than a long, hot bubble bath. The idea was tempting.

But it wouldn’t happen. She would not, could not, give up on this tent. In a way, it represented her whole endeavor. If she quit every time something went wrong, she knew she’d be packing for Denver by the end of the month.

And she couldn’t let that happen. She hadn’t even purchased her horse yet.

Besides, it wouldn’t do to let Erik know he was right. The man was cocky enough as it was, telling her what to do, as if she couldn’t make up her own mind.

The thought spurred her into action. Throwing some choice nicknames at the inanimate bundle of chaos, she stood up and walked around the perimeter of the tent, narrowing her eyes at the wretched canvas and frowning in concentration.

“Father, I’m in trouble again.” She didn’t worry about praying aloud. There wasn’t a soul within miles of here. “I’ve got to get this tent up, but I’ve failed several times. Help me, God. Give me wisdom. And if You’ve got a minute, a little heavenly intervention would be greatly appreciated.”

Always start with prayer, her mother used to say.

Her heart stung as if popped with the end of a bullwhip. In her exuberance to be truly out on her own, she’d forgotten the importance of prayer before action, and look where it had got her.

She sure hoped God was a better camper than she was.

She glanced at the pegs again and got an idea. If she tied the tent up one pole at a time and pegged it out, it would have to stay up, eventually. And then she could fix the wobbles.

She smiled and reached for her hammer. If God blessed her pathetic efforts, she might not need those hundred nails after all.

She laughed out loud, and the sound echoed through the small valley. She thought she heard a dog barking in response, coming from the edge of the small meadow. She peered in that direction, but the trees hid everything from view.

Oh well, a stray dog or two in the area wasn’t a problem. She liked dogs.

Carefully she tied off the first pole, then pulled it taut and hammered the peg into the grass.

“There,” she said aloud, wiping her hands together and smiling with satisfaction. “I knew I could do it.”

Her triumph was short-lived, however, as the tent began to waver toward her.

“Oh, no. Oh, no. Don’t you do this to me,” she said, not realizing she was yelling.

Moments later she was covered by canvas.

As she wriggled under the weight of the collapsed tent, she heard the dog bark again and hoped he was alone. It was humiliating enough to have this happen to her without anyone seeing her.

This was private property, but Erik Wheeler certainly hadn’t been bashful about coming onto her land without announcing himself. For all she knew, invading a person’s privacy and property was a normal part of small-town mountain living.

She crawled out from beneath the canvas, spitting out the pieces of grass caught between her teeth.

Yuck!
And there was dirt under her inch-long nails. Good thing they were made of enamel, or they’d all have broken off by now.

When she heard another bark, she surveyed the edge of the woods quite thoroughly, even going through a few of the trees and calling for the pup, but she didn’t see any sign of dog or man.

Maybe her overworked mind was concocting a dog from nowhere. Hadn’t she lain awake in bed for nights before moving here, considering the worst the land could offer?

Bears, wolves, mountain lions and who knew what else.

God knew.

The thought reassured her. She shook her head, dusted off her jeans and went back to work, pole by pole. And this time, glory be, it worked.

She anchored the two opposite sides, then finished off the rest of the poles and pegs, too tired to even appreciate her success.

In the end, it was a little wobbly, but it would do, at least for tonight.

She’d never been so tired in her life. Every single muscle in her body ached, including some she hadn’t even known existed until today. It hurt even to breathe.

It took all the force of her will to compel her exhausted, aching body to move. She went back to the truck and unloaded three large cardboard boxes full of food and a cooler of cold soda—her groceries for the month—and placed them next to the front door of her tent.

She meant to put them in the two-room tent with her, but she was too weary to even consider it. They’d be okay where they were for the night.

She wandered around looking for firewood for about ten minutes before yawns overtook her, and she decided she was too tired to eat, never mind to start a fire. She doubted if her brain could even recall how to make one, if she had enough wood, which she doubted.

Oh, well. Hopefully it wouldn’t get too cold tonight. It was still early spring.

She hoped it wouldn’t snow, although, with the way things had been going since she got here, she wouldn’t be surprised if it snowed five feet.

Dragging her Eskimo-hood sleeping bag into the tent, she crawled into her warm cocoon and immediately felt drowsiness overtake her, clouding her mind and easing the ache in her limbs.

Every other catastrophe would just have to wait until she had a good night’s sleep.

E
rik trod carefully from Dixie’s campsite, but inside he was running. Running for his life.

Fool woman. She’d grabbed her sleeping bag and headed for the tent without so much as taking care of her supplies! Didn’t she have even the vaguest knowledge of what it meant to live in the mountains? This wasn’t a secure penthouse apartment with a hulking doorman security guard to protect her—not to mention her food, gear and supplies.

Not my problem.

He repeated it over and over in his mind, but his heart didn’t agree. He scowled, annoyed with himself. But mostly, annoyed with her.

He shouldn’t have been spying on her in the first place, he chided himself. He’d intruded on an intensely personal moment, one she’d be mortified over if she ever discovered someone had witnessed it.

Heat crept up on his face, making his scowl deepen. He was no gawking teenager or Peeping Tom, even if the woman in question made his gut do a funny little dance when he looked at her.

He should know better.

She was going to have to learn the hard truth of how unprepared she really was, one way or another. Maybe a night alone in the woods was just what she needed to make her tuck her tail and run for the city.

That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?

Yeah, he supposed he did, but not quite so soon. Not until he had two horses, at least. Which meant she had to last a half a year.

No. It meant a whole lot more than that. It meant he’d have to keep her
out of trouble
for a half a year. Crazy, stubborn woman!

He paused and looked back.

Lucy sat down at his feet and whined.

He grunted in response. Even his dog was nagging at him to go back.

“Think so, do you?” He lifted his hat from his head and wiped his brow with his sleeve, though the spring evening was crisp. “You would stick up for another female.”

Lucy whined again and barked, two short yips and a long, well-enunciated growl.

“Yeah, maybe so,” he agreed, sauntering around to look in the direction from which he came. He leaned his shoulder against a lodgepole pine and hooked his thumb through a belt loop.

He could go back on her land and hide in the trees, taking the midnight watch, so to speak. But that would be trespassing.

No, worse. It would be spying. Again. He shook his head, determination to save his own skin winning out over an absurd sense of chivalry. He was nobody’s cowboy but his own.

“Nah.”

At the single word, Lucy growled low and barked once. He could swear she was scowling at him.

“Mother hen,” he complained with a chuckle. “I don’t care if you disagree.”

He crouched down to wrap an arm around the dog, scratching her ears with his thumb.

She wriggled out of his grasp and sat down a foot away from him, staring at him through her mismatched eyes.

“I know, I know. You think I’m a big oaf. And maybe I am. But I can’t spy on her, even if it’s for her own good. You don’t understand what a good-lookin’ woman like her does to a man’s soul.”

Lucy cocked her head and whined.

“End of subject!” he said more firmly than he intended.

Lucy trotted a few steps back the way they’d come, then turned to look back at him. When he didn’t move, she barked sharply.

“I’m not coming,” he said firmly. “I don’t know when you thought you earned the title of Leader of the Pack, but I’m not budging. Not a chance.”

To confirm his point, he crossed his arms over his chest with a quiet huff.

He could have sworn she shrugged as she turned her back on him and padded off down the road toward Dixie. She stopped again just before a bend in the path that would take her out of his sight and implored him with her large collie eyes.

“No,” he said again, hardly believing he was arguing with his dog, yet finding an odd sort of humor in it. Dixie had only been here for less than a day, and she already changed his life in more ways than one.

Like turning his own dog against him, for one thing. Suddenly an idea hit him.

“Well, yeah, of course! I see what you mean.” He chuckled aloud.

He
might be an unwelcome lurker in Dixie’s part of the woods, but she could hardly blame him for having Lucy there. Even if she did see the dog, she’d never know who her owner was.

And he felt at least as safe with Lucy guarding over Dixie as he would were he to spend the night outside her tent himself. She was well trained—better trained than he was for watchdog duty, he thought, smiling for the second time today.

Lucy could handle whatever came around—he’d bet his paycheck on it. He was off the hook, and Dixie would be safe.

More to the point,
he’d
be safe. No explanations necessary.

“Go on, girl,” he told his dog, giving her his blessing. “You keep an eye on our Dixie, girl. She’ll be safe and sound with you watching her.”

Lucy barked and leapt out of sight.

He knew without a doubt she’d do exactly what needed to be done. Dogs had a sense about them for people in need, and Dixie Sullivan fit into that category whether she knew it or not.

As the strain and tension drained from his shoulders, he sighed and turned, beginning the long walk back to his suddenly achingly empty house.