Chasing Clovers (9 page)

She was a frigid little thing that was for sure. When he
'd gone to help her, she'd turned so fast she hit her nose again. He cringed. She'll be awfully sore tomorrow, maybe have a black eye too.

She
seemed so helpless and scared. The same look he often found on her pretty face. She never spoke of her past, but then again she'd been here all of two days. He hadn't had much time to sit and talk with her, something he'd hoped to do before they got married. He slapped his hand down on the counter. Well, he had till Saturday. She couldn't live here much longer without a ring on her finger. People would talk. Not that he gave a damn. It was Livy he was concerned about. The townspeople could be cruel, especially the women.

He took a deep breath. Her scent still lingered in the room. She smelled of lilacs, and when he'd been cleaning her face, he'd wanted nothing more that to kiss her pink lips. She invaded his mind, and he'd almost forgotten his manners when he bent and brushed his lips across her nose.

Wh
en her green eyes met his, he had forgotten all the practical reasons he'd sent for her. He had to get some distance from her. The warm bath, mixed with her translucent nightgown, was spellbinding. Yup, he had to stop these feelings. Becky didn't deserve this. She loved him hole heartedly, and he couldn't betray her by kissing the first woman that came into his life.

He closed his eyes. A vision of Livy in her nightgown, brown
hair flowing past her shoulders, the glow from the lamp cast around her, reminded him of an angel. He opened his eyes. Damn it, he needed sleep. Yup, a good night's sleep was sure to help him forget about Olivia Green. Trouble was, when he woke up, she'd still be there.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Boyd
was tired, hungry and pissed off. He had been shoveling shit for the last two hours while Rusty napped under the oak tree near the back of the bunkhouse.
That lazy son of a bitch is going to get it one of these days
,
and I would love to be the one to give it to him too.
He lifted his arm and smelled his armpit. Damn he stunk. He needed a dunk in the river.

He was
almost to the bunkhouse, when he spotted Angel in the kitchen window. He stopped to watch her. His cock twitched, and his eyes took on a lustful glaze. He licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to feast on her unwilling body. His hands fisted into tight balls. His whole body vibrated. He wanted her so bad he could taste it. The back door swung open, and John's son came running toward him. Not wanting to get caught staring at Angel, he pretended to be looking at something up in the sky.

The boy stopped in front of him. "Whatcha lookin' at mister?"

"
Now don't ya think that cloud up there looks like a big wagon wheel?" he asked, pointing to no cloud in particular.

Ben stared up at the cloud. "Can you see, mister? That cloud ain't even round."

"
I hear you're gettin' a new ma."

He watched the kid
's reaction.

"
Yeah, I guess so."

"
You don't seem too happy about that." He suppressed a grin, as he saw the perfect opportunity with this little brat.

"
Well, she ain't that bad. I I…"

"
You don't want her here," Boyd finished for him, "she's not your ma."

Ben stared at him.

He
ruffled the boy's hair, and led him away from the house and any prying eyes. "I used to have a mother too, but she died."

"
She did?" He hung his head. "So did mine."

Boyd ignored him. He didn't care about the kid's dead mother. All he cared about was Angel. "Yeah, she died when I was about your age."

"
But you had your Pa, right?"

"
Not for long. He married a mean old hag not a year later. She had me doing the laundry, washing dishes, and dusting." He whined. Inside he was rejoicing at his luck on finding this dumb kid to believe his lies and help him capture Angel.

"
Those are girly chores," Ben said making a face.

"
Yup, they were. And you know what the worst part was?"

He
knelt down beside Ben. They were far enough away from the house now that no one would see them.

"
What?"

"
My Pa didn't have any time for me after he married her."

Ben sat down on the grass. He plucked a blade and stared hard at it.

"
I bet your Pa will do the same thing. I know how you can stop that though."

"
You do?"

"
Yup, but I don't know if you're old enough."

"
I'll be eight this spring," Ben told him, sitting up taller.

"
Well, I guess I could tell ya, on one condition. You don't tell anybody we talked." He glared at Ben, offering the kid a hint at how it would be if he didn't heed his warning. "No one knows I'm helping you."

"
I can do that. I won't tell anyone. I promise."

"
Okay, I think the best way to get rid of your new ma, is to scare her off the ranch."

Ben leaned in to hear more.

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was Friday, and Livy had been on the ranch almost a week. She stood inside the front door sweeping the dust out onto the porch. A smile touched her lips. Her time with Ezekiel had been paying off, and she could now make pancakes that weren't salty, but were fluffy and melted in your mouth. Ben's syrup messed face told her he approved, and the empty plates this morning proved John liked them too.

So far she
'd been able to avoid much contact with John's daughter, and she thought every day about Emma. Most times it was difficult to get out of bed in the morning, hard to keep living. She craved the busy days, to take her mind off her thoughts of Emma. But when she closed her eyes at night they'd be there, waiting to haunt her until morning.

She gently
touched her nose. It was still tender. The bruise, a soft yellow now, had almost disappeared. Broom in hand, she went out onto the porch and was amazed by the vast land before her. This country sure is beautiful, she sighed. The yellow fields glistened in the hot afternoon sun. She watched the tall, skinny stocks dance back and forth in the light breeze.

A rocking chair sat at the end of the porch, and she
plopped down onto the hard seat. She placed the broom up against the rail. Her feet moved the chair back and forth at a slow, steady pace. Eyes closed, she inhaled the fresh air. She must be getting used to the awful smell of the cows, for today she didn't notice it. Today, she inhaled good, clean air.

"
Howdy, Ma'am."

Sh
e opened her eyes and saw a cowboy standing on the other side of the porch below her.

"
Can I help you?" she eyed him. He reminded her of John. Tall, muscular and wide. Except, she thought as she still studied him, his expression held no arrogance. In its place was a friendly smile.

"
Name's Clive, I'm the foreman on the T-Bar," he said, with a bit of a drawl.

Although she was still unsure of the stranger, she stood and walked to the edge of the porch.
"I'm Livy."

He offered her his hand, but she didn't reach out and shake it. Instead she placed her hands behind her back. "My…my hands are dirty," she lied. Whether it was a handshake or a hug, she never let a man touch her. Those simple gestures could lead to so much more.

He raised a blonde eyebrow while smiling at her. "It's nice to meet you."

She
didn't return his smile. "Have you worked here long?"

"'
Bout three years. Where ya from?"

The question caught her off guard, and it took her a moment to reply. "I'm from down south."

"
I've traveled down there some."

Livy thought she was in the clear, until he asked.

"
Where did you say down south?"

"
Fort McLeod area." Her voice shook, and her arms covered in goose bumps as she fidgeted from one foot to the other.
Please don't let him recognize me from the saloon there
. She saw no need to mention her life before in Great Falls, where the nightmare she'd been living had begun.

"
Been there a time or two. Nice place." He stared at her face for a long time. "Well, I'd better get back to work."

She nodded.

Tipping his Stetson, he turned and left, whistling on his way
.

She
blew out the breath she'd been holding and pushed against the railing. For a moment she thought he'd recognized her. She took another calming breath. It was times like this she was glad she went by her middle name, instead of "Angel the Songbird." As she watched Clive walk back to one of the barns, an uneasy feeling crept up her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stood.

She spun
around to see if someone was behind her on the porch. She was alone. Someone was watching her―she could feel it. She brought her hand up to shade her eyes and stared out into the field.

"
Quit being so silly," she scolded, and her body shivered.

Her hands damp, and she flexed her fingers allowing the hot air to dry them.
Clive upset you, that's all it was.
She turned to go back inside the house when she heard John call out to her. She waited to see what he wanted. As he approached, she noticed how his blue shirt covered his muscled arms as if the cotton had been painted on. His hat was pulled low to shade his eyes from the bright August sun, and she couldn't help but wonder what it might feel like to be loved by this man.

"
Came to see if you'd like to go for a ride." His gaze followed the length of her body then returned to her face.

She crossed her arms
. "Just the two of us?"

"
Yup, you and me."

She hesitated. What would happen when they were alone? Would John take advantage of her? She stared down at him. His smile seemed genuine, and so far he hadn
't done anything to make her uncomfortable. She frowned. Other than a few nights ago when she'd almost kissed him. But she didn't want to think about that right now, or she'd high-tail it back inside the house to hide in her room.

No, he said they were going for a ride, so that meant she
'd have her own horse and he'd be on his. No touching. She took a deep breath. She could do this.

"
Okay, I'll come along." She fought off the urge to flee.
No,
this is a good opportunity to get away from the house and see some of the ranch.

"
I'll tell Rusty to saddle a horse for you, while you go grab a hat."

"
I don't have a riding hat." She reached behind her and grabbed the long braid that hung down her back.

"
There's a few hangin' on the peg at the back door, use one of them."

His usual arrogance gone,
she found that she was almost excited to spend a few hours alone with the man that, after tomorrow, would be her husband.

"
I'll meet you round back," he said, and sauntered away.

John headed over to the tack house. Two of his men were shoving each other, and he could tell a fight was about to start. Rusty was laughing, as one of the hands he didn't recognize gripped him by the collar, his arm back ready to strike.

"
Whoa, what the hell is going on here?" he asked. Thinking a moment, he recalled the hand's name, Boyd. The cowboy was quiet, and most times stayed to himself. John had never talked to the man, but as long as he did what he was told and pulled his weight, he didn't much care if he could carry on a conversation or not.

Boyd
's chest heaved in and out. "Rusty put mud in my good boots."

John looked over at Rusty, who continued to laugh. The man was a practical joker. He'd moved the outhouse three weeks ago in the middle of the night. John grimaced. Poor old Ken was a mess when he fell into the shit hole. Rusty had never played his tricks on John, and he was thankful. Boyd was choking Rusty now, and John pushed them a part. "Okay, enough. Rusty I need you to saddle a horse for Miss Green. Boyd, go and clean out your boots."

"
This ain't over," Boyd said and walked away.

Rusty snickered.
"It was a good one, Boss." He plucked a piece of hay and stuck it into his mouth. "Boyd will be cleanin' them boots for a while."

"
Yeah, yeah, but you may want to ease up on the jokes Rusty. It's no way to make friends."

"
I suppose," he said thoughtfully.

John patted him on the back.
"By the way, make sure you saddle the mare in the far stall."