go one at a time, slow and easy, through to the pass, but it spooks some horses to be all closed in by the walls.”
She took a few steps on ground that suddenly turned rocky and uneven.
His hand shot out to grip her arm to steady her. The feel of her skin beneath his fingers was hotter than he’d expected it to be. One touch made him aware of her as a woman. Before, he’d thought of her as lost, crazy, way out of her depth. Now, with the silk blouse clinging to her, Charley felt as if he was really seeing her for the first time.
Like the land around her, there was a beauty about Jubilee that most people didn’t see at first glance. Not that he was interested, he reminded himself, but still, he could notice her.
Looking toward the passage, she asked, “Can we walk in? I’d love to see the canyon on the other side.”
Charley shook his head. “Not in those clothes or shoes. It’s beautiful, but it would take us an hour or so to walk through then get back to the truck.” He could see already that her bare arms were blistering and the climb just to get to the pass opening would ruin her slipper shoes.
An instinct to protect her rose in Charley, surprising him, but she was no damsel in distress. The only way he could help her was to show her how to make this ranch grow.
She turned to face him. “Take me to town, then. Show me the way. If you have things to do here, I’ll drive back in and buy what I need later, but I need to learn the road.” Her chocolate brown eyes met his and he saw determination in her gaze. “I want to be ready to start work tomorrow. It’s time we started making something of this place. I’ll need the right kind of clothes and shoes to do that.” She frowned as if suddenly fearing her own words. “Can you buy me a horse?”
“I’ll make a few calls,” he answered. “Can you ride?”
“Of course.”
She’d answered too fast to be telling the truth. He grinned. “I’ve heard tell that brown eyes never lie,” he said.
She faced him square with her lying brown eyes looking a bit angry. “I can ride.”
She might be crazy, but nothing about Jubilee Hamilton was lazy.
As they walked back to his truck, she added, “Mr. Collins, I’ll buy your lunch when we get to town. I’m starving. My breakfast seemed to have evaporated.”
He wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not. The lady was hard to read. “I’ll accept the offer for lunch, but call me Charley.”
“Fair enough. My family calls me Jub.”
He opened her passenger door. “If you don’t mind, I’ll call you Jubilee. Jub seems more like a drink than a name.”
When he climbed into the driver’s seat, she was busy rummaging through her tiny purse that couldn’t hold more than three or four things. She didn’t look at him.
For some reason, he thought he’d won a round, but Charley had a feeling it would be a long time before they knew each other well enough to even be friends. They were as different as two people could be.
Ten minutes later when she asked for the vegan menu at Dorothy’s Café, Charley had to fake a coughing fit to keep from laughing.
Thatcher
February 27
LAUREN BRIGMAN, the sheriff’s daughter, stared at him with those sky blue eyes, as if he was toad-level in her world. She was all dressed up in her Texas Tech University jacket with silver buttons and he looked as though his whole body served as the tester kit for paint samples. Somehow in two hours he’d managed to drip more paint than he got on the walls. The sheriff would think long and hard about hiring him again.
But he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop looking at Lauren’s beautiful long hair. Something must be wrong with him. He couldn’t think of five girls’ names at school but all at once he was aware, first of the girl in the rain the other night, and now of the sheriff’s only child. At least the girl whose father found a body in the canyon was his age. Lauren was way too old for him.
But Thatcher didn’t care. A guy his age didn’t get to talk to a girl in college very often, so he was happy to be in the sheriff’s office with her even if she didn’t appear to be.
He felt smarter just being in the same room with Lauren. He heard someone say she’d never even got a B in her school career. Neither had he, but Thatcher knew he was coming from the other direction.
She might be six or seven years older than he was, but she’d never been mean to him. That meant something to him. Since grade school, every time he saw her, Brigman’s daughter had at least nodded at him. Most of the other kids treated him as if he was a pound dog who’d escaped.
He did his best to act as though he barely noticed her while he painted the far wall of the sheriff’s office. This was his job for the morning and the sheriff must have assigned her duties, as well.
Every now and then she’d glance up as if she’d just remembered that she was supposed to be watching him while she filed. He didn’t accept the idea of having a babysitter. Hell, he’d been his own man since he was six or seven and his mom started making a habit of disappearing every weekend. Sometimes the weekends seemed to run together before she came home. He never minded being alone.
But this morning Lauren’s silence was starting to bug him.
“How old are you, Lauren?” he asked without stopping his work.
She didn’t look up from her computer. “Twenty-one. That must sound pretty old to you.”
He ignored the fact that she thought of him as still a kid when he was taller than she was and almost fifteen. “I guess that’s not too old to still be minding your old man. I was just wondering how many days of school you missed to be stuck here in your dad’s office on a Saturday.”
She smiled. “I didn’t miss any school. In fact, much as I hate to think about it, I’m almost finished with college. It’s a place where no one makes you go to class—you just go because you want to. Whole new concept for you, Thatcher.”
He groaned, feeling a lecture coming on. He figured all the Brigmans must share some mutant gene that made them give advice the minute their mouths opened.
She laughed as if she’d read his mind. “I just came in this weekend to help Pop with the filing. My dad’s a great sheriff but somehow the folders never move off his desk and into the right filing cabinet. County said they’d hire him a secretary, but he’s always saying he’d have to clean up and organize first.”
Thatcher set his paintbrush down and took his third break of the morning. “You know, come to think of it, twenty-one is old. My mom was married and had me by then.” When Lauren didn’t answer he added, “You’re real pretty so I’m guessing it’s the fact your dad meets everyone at the door wearing a gun that keeps men away.”
Lauren nodded. “That’s it. How about you, Thatcher? At the old age of almost fifteen you’re probably looking for a
