anytime.”
With a wave, Danny left the livery, whistling as he went.
Which left her alone with Mr. Lassiter.
Her first apology had been a bit grudging. Time to fix that. “Sorry I snapped at you. You stepped in to help Danny when you could’ve just stood by, and for that I’m beholden. No telling what those two snakes would’ve done if you hadn’t come along.”
He shrugged and gave her another of those let’s-be-friends smiles. “I did what needed doing. Danny’s more than just your stableboy I take it.”
She nodded. “Foster brother.”
“Well, he was brave to stand up to those thugs the way he did.”
“Pigheaded, more like.” She tilted her chin, irritation flaring again. “He might’ve gotten himself killed.” Just the thought of what could have happened set her stomach churning.
“He’s just a boy.”
“But you aren’t.” Fool greenhorn. Didn’t he realize how serious that little dust-up had been? Her hands fisted at her sides as she fought the urge to shake a finger in his face. “I know you mean well, and it might be different where you come from, but it’s best you learn that in these parts there are men who’d as soon shoot you as look at you.”
His jaw tightened. Probably didn’t like getting lectured to, but it was for his own good.
“Where I come from,” he said, each word dropping like a stone, “is Hawk’s Creek Ranch, about eighty miles northwest of here.”
Jo’s head went up and her hands unclenched. He was a Texan? And a rancher to boot. Well, he sure as fire didn’t look or dress like any rancher she’d ever met.
“And no,” he continued, “as it happens, it isn’t any different from Knotty Pine, at least not in the way you mean. I find bullies are pretty much the same wherever you find them.”
Wherever you find them. She knew he hadn’t meant anything by that, but the words still carried the bite of a scorpion sting.
“Now, if you don’t mind getting down to business,” he said, “I would like to rent a rig and I’m in a hurry.”
Getting down to business sounded just fine to her. She leaned back against a stall and met his gaze head-on. “When do you need it, for how long and where are you headed?”
“The when is right now. The where is Foxberry and I’m not certain how long I’ll be gone, but it will likely be about a week.” He raised one brow. “Do you have a rig for lease or not?”
She had the feeling this gent was used to getting his way. Too bad she’d have to disappoint him. “Sorry. The buggy and buckboard are both leased out for the day. The buggy’s due back by suppertime, though, if you want to wait.”
He impatiently brushed a bit of straw from his sleeve. “I don’t.”
Jo straightened. “Look, I reckon you came in on the train. I heard there was a problem with the tracks up around Tatter’s Gully. It’s happened before. They ought to have it fixed by noon tomorrow.”
“Like I said, I’m in a hurry.” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it just enough to take a dab of the polish off his dandified looks.
She approved of the change.
“If there are no carriages, what about renting me a horse and saddle?” He nodded toward the two animals still in the stable. His tone had been polite, but she saw the muscles in that square jaw of his tense. Impatience flashed in his see-through-you eyes.
She didn’t much blame him for wanting to be on his way. She’d been dreaming of getting out of Knotty Pine for what seemed her whole life.
Jo retrieved the pitchfork and leaned on it, studying her would-be customer. He was a sure-enough puzzlement. Obviously well-heeled. And not a bad-looking man if you liked the broad-shouldered, smooth-as-worn-leather type. But he wasn’t a too-good-to-get-his-hands-dirty gent either. Knew how to handle himself, too. That had been a slick move he’d made, knocking the gun from Otis’s hand and then covering Danny’s back.
“Let’s see,” she said, thinking out loud, “Foxberry is about a day’s ride—assuming you’re an experienced rider.” She paused and he nodded stiffly. Not that she’d expect him to answer otherwise. “It’s just past noon so you won’t get there today. Let’s say three days for the trip there and back then, and maybe five days’ stay. That means you’d have the animal tied up for about eight days, give or take.”
Jo rubbed her chin, ready for a bit of dickering. “That kind of time won’t come cheap. You sure you wouldn’t rather wait? My family runs a boardinghouse and I’m sure my sister has a comfortable room we can rent you for a fair price.”
Mr. Lassiter pulled a wallet out of his coat. “I appreciate the offer, but no thanks. Name your price so I can get going.”
Jo’s knuckles whitened as her grip tightened on the pitchfork. He could just whip out that wallet of his and go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And he didn’t even seem to realize how lucky he was. Much as she hankered to get out and see something of the world, she’d never traveled more than twenty miles from Knotty Pine in her entire twenty-three years.
Lord God, it just ain’t fair.
“One hundred dollars.” The words were out of her mouth before she’d even realized what she was going to say.
“A hundred dollars?” His eyes narrowed. “I could practically buy the animal for that price.”
Too late to back down now. “Not one as good as these. Besides, I don’t have any guarantees you’re going to return the animal, do I?” She ignored the way he’d stiffened. “Like I said, you’d be better off waiting for the train.”
To her surprise, he pulled out a wad of bills. “Here. Anything to get on my way.”
Realizing her jaw had dropped, Jo hurriedly closed her mouth. This fool was actually carrying that kind of money around with him? And a hundred dollars didn’t even clean him out—the wallet was still plump when he stuffed it back into his jacket. “But—”
He’d grabbed her hand and the shock of that physical contact shut her up. He slapped the money into her palm, then moved to the stalls.
Guilt pinched at Jo’s conscience. She’d expected him to haggle a bit—not actually agree to her outlandish price. It just wouldn’t be right for her to take all this money.
She bit her lip, staring at his stiff back. How could she give some of it back without sounding like a henwit?
I know, Lord, it’s my own fault for letting envy get the best of me.
Stuffing the money in her pocket, Jo followed him to the far end of the livery. “Of course,” she said as casually as she could, “you’ll get half of this back when you return the horse.” Much as she tried, she couldn’t stop the heat rising in her cheeks.
He shot her a look she couldn’t read. Then he nodded and pointed to the larger
