Love on the Range: A Looking Glass Lake Prequel (9 page)

“Jett and the boys went on ahead,” Crazy Hoss said. “I’m gonna help you get camp torn down and move on.”

“Move on?” Marlee scowled.

“We’re about halfway to our main campsite,” Crazy Hoss said. There’s not enough firewood here to keep us going for a month.

Marlee gulped.

A month. Jett had told her it would be a month, but she was hoping that was another cowboy exaggeration.

Turns out, it wasn’t.

“Normally, the chuck wagon cook has to clean up and tear down alone,” Fern said. Her eyes shone like that was the best tidbit of gossip she’d come across her whole life. “Prep for supper, pack up the gear, and harness the horses.”

“Alone?” Marlee squeaked. She didn’t know the first thing about harnessing horses. And she wasn’t crazy about the idea of being left alone with hungry bears prowling the area.

“Yup.” Crazy Hoss grinned.

Fern leaned forward. “But Jett told us to stay behind.” She waggled her eyebrows at Marlee.

“Said ya might need our help,” Crazy Hoss said. His grin was so big, all her groggy brain registered were teeth and whiskers.

Marlee glared and stabbed at her biscuits.

“Like a hole in the head,” Marlee muttered under her breath. Jett had already told her the ranch was short-staffed. He must really think she was incompetent if he’d kept two of his cowhands back at camp to babysit her.

And she couldn’t blame him, because she had slept in this morning…slept right through her first breakfast shift. Whatever she had to prove as a city girl now just got a double helping added. Now, she had to prove she wasn’t a lazy cook who slept in all the time.

Crazy Hoss stood up and lumbered toward the chuck wagon where he started untying the canvas spread over the makeshift dining area.

“If I were you, I’d stretch my muscles some,” he threw over his shoulder. “Sore muscles can make a body awful cranky.”

“It’s not the sore muscles making her cranky,” Fern crowed. “I think it’s a handsome cowboy.”

Marlee bit her tongue. Lashing out at the people who were helping her wouldn’t earn her any favors. “That’s not how I’d describe him,” she grumbled.

“Who, dear?” Fern asked.

“Jett.” Marlee wanted to stuff his name right back into her mouth the moment it slipped out. Yup, she’d stepped right into the older woman’’s trap.

Fern’s eyes gleamed. “So you do think he’s handsome. And can you believe such a handsome cowboy is single?” She patted Marlee’s knee. “Did you know he’s the only cowboy in these parts with just that one killer dimple?”

Marlee blinked. Did the woman ever stop with the matchmaking?

She glanced at Crazy Hoss in a silent plea for help, but the man’s eyes gleamed behind bushy brows as he rolled and tied canvas. He was enjoying this too much to stop Fern. It was up to Marlee to change the subject.

And the way she’d let everyone down that morning was the first topic that came to mind.

“I set my alarm clock,” she said. “But the battery went dead.”

“Don’t you worry none,” Crazy Hoss said. “Jett fried up the bacon himself this morning.”

Marlee groaned and covered her face with her hands.

“It ain’t all bad.” Crazy Hoss patted her awkwardly on the back. “It don’t hurt him none to be a cowhand and camp cook at the same time. Back in my day, every camp cook was also a good cowpoke. Most outfits needed him to be in the saddle when he wasn’t slingin’ flapjacks.”

Marlee sat up straighter. Maybe there was a chance to redeem her pride after all.

“But not all cooks go out on the trail, honey,” Fern said. “So don’t you worry.”

“But some do?” Marlee asked.

Crazy Hoss nodded.

“And the ranch is short-handed,” Marlee said slowly.

Fern nodded.

“And I’ve told you I can ride,” Marlee said. She chuckled and hopped up to grab a plate of pancakes. “So I guess that’s settled.”

Crazy Hoss stared. Then he threw his head back and laughed, his whiskers jutting out.

“You sure about that?” Fern shook her head. “You know pride goes before a fall. And the fall off a horse’s back is a lot rougher than it looks.”

“You’ll have to talk to Jett,” Crazy Hoss said. “He decides who rides and who don’t.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Marlee smiled. “I’ll show Jett what I’m made of.”

“If he don’t turn you down flat,” the old man chuckled.

Marlee grinned.

Yeah. Jett wouldn’t like the idea. But she still had to give it a shot.

If a man could cowboy in the day and cook in the evenings, so could she. She’d just have to get creative.

And get almost no sleep for the next few weeks.

And get the most frustrating man in Big Sky country to say yes to her half-crazy idea.

CHAPTER TEN

The next morning, Marlee rose early, thanks to Fern’s wind-up alarm clock.

She had the fire going, biscuits on and bacon already sizzling before anyone woke.

Marlee stepped a little outside the perimeter of firelight. If she followed the line of the makeshift corral that the men had put up for the horses, she’d reach a lookout point. Maybe as the sun came up, she could get a glimpse of the lake everyone in town talked about. Looking Glass Lake should be nestled down in the valley, and she couldn’t wait to see it.

Jett had told her it glowed with light, reflecting a brightening sky even before the sun came up. And last night, Crazy Hoss had told the legend of the Native American chief the lake was named after. Chief Looking Glass had lived his whole life working for peace, but then had died in war.

Crazy Hoss had said that according to legend, if a person peered into the lake long enough, they would find their real identity staring back at them.

If she looked into Looking Glass Lake now, she’d most likely see her sister’s faces staring back at her.

What it would feel like to be free of the expectation to be like her sisters?

The verse she’d read that morning in Galatians floated through her mind.

Each person should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else.

Well, that’s why she’d worked so hard to get through culinary school. And it was why she’d come out west. It was time to stop trying to be someone else. It was time to just be Marlee Donovan.

She tipped her head back to look at stars so close she wanted to reach out and touch them. She gulped in air so sharp it nearly sliced her lungs in half. It was like a crisp sorbet. She didn’t know air could be so fresh, but still be packed with so much scent.

A horse nickered in the darkness and a twig cracked.

Marlee froze, her heart lurching to her mouth. Were rustlers coming for the horses?

A figure moved in the darkness, and Marlee jumped.

“Just me.”

Jett stepped out of the shadows.

Marlee blew out a hard breath and her heart clattered back down where it belonged.

“Did I scare you?” His grin flashed in the shadows.

She ignored him, stuck her nose in the air and headed back to the kitchen.

He followed her, ducking under the tent flap and standing across the table from her.

She took an apple from the bushel basket on the table and began peeling it, hoping the action would calm her shaking hands.

Jett gave a low whistle. “You sure are determined to make us cowboys eat our fruits and veggies,” he said. “Do you serve fruit with every meal?”

“This is for dinner tonight,” Marlee said. “I’m prepping now because I plan to head out with you men and help bring in the cattle today.”

He snorted, laughter lighting his face.

Marlee frowned. Last night, that dimple seemed charming. This morning, it had her steaming under the collar.

“Didn’t know you had such a good sense of humor,” he chuckled.

Marlee’s hands flew to her hips, and she dropped the apple.

It rolled to his feet, but she ignored it, glaring up at Jett.

“The joke’s on you if you think I’m gonna sit around the kitchen all day.”

He rubbed his chin, and blinked. “You’re a chuck wagon cook,” he said. “You’re supposed to be in the kitchen.”

She took a deep breath and bit her lips. Hard. She wanted to correct him.

She wasn’t a cook. She was a chef. Big difference.

But now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to try the logic that had worked so well on Crazy Hoss and Fern just yesterday. Now was the time to prove she was not somebody who slept through her first morning on the job. She was somebody they could count on. In the kitchen and in the saddle, if necessary.

“Some cooks are also ranch hands.”

He grunted and widened his stance.

“And the ranch is short-handed right now. You could use more help if you’re going to get the cattle out of the mountains before the snow sets in. You said so yourself.”

He didn’t say anything, but his brows relaxed a little, and he rubbed his jaw.

Her skin prickled. She could imagine how his skin would feel, with its stubble so short it would only sting a little bit. But she shouldn’t be imagining that right now. Not if she wanted to make her point.

“And I can ride,” she said quickly.

His dark eyes flickered. He was going to say no.

“All I’m asking for is a chance to prove myself.”

His eyebrows shot up, and a thrill of satisfaction straightened her spine.

Yeah. That got his attention real good.

She shrugged. “I spent some time on my uncle’s farm every summer,” she said. “So I know my way around a horse.”

He grunted and then turned on his heel and left the tent.

Marlee snorted. So he was probably some kind of a horse snob. Riding experience only counted on ranches and not farms.

She scooped the apple off the ground, and dashed at it with a towel. She was half tempted to leave the dirt on it and bake it into his own special apple dirt-dumpling tonight. That would teach him to ignore her offer.

“A nice mouthful of genuine Rocky Mountain dirt ground into his Apple Brown Betty,” she muttered, jabbing viciously at the apple with her peeler. She almost took the skin off her knuckles when it slipped. “That’s exactly what this situation calls for, and I’m the chef for the job.”

She stiffened when a gust of cold morning breeze told her someone had entered the tent.

Most likely Jett, based on the silence behind her.

She lifted her head high and tried her best to focus on peeling apples. She discovered it was a lot harder to do when her nose was up in the air.

But so be it.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when his arm brushed hers. He set a tin mug of coffee down on the folding table, but he didn’t step away from her.

That runaway heartbeat—the one that had surprised her when he’d startled her outside that morning—was back. Her skin prickled again, too.

He cleared his throat.

He had to know how he affected her. Her heart was thumping along at a gallop so loud even Crazy Hoss could probably hear it way over there by the fire.

Her face flamed hot, and she was grateful for the shadows of the tent. Grateful she’d set her nose so high in the air.

“You’ll need caffeine,” he said. “It’s a long ride.”

* * *

A few hours into the drive, and Marlee’s body screamed at her for being so stubborn.

She’d ridden before, yes. But not all day. And Calamity, the horse Jett had saddled for her, was not the sleepy nag Jett had said she would be. Plus, she didn’t seem to like Marlee. She had a habit of sidestepping every time Marlee wanted her to turn, and when Marlee tried to get her to stop, she took a few extra backwards dancing steps that had Marlee’s heart seizing up in panic.

Why had she ever thought this was a good idea?

As a kid, riding the farm horses wasn’t anything like this. She remembered the smell of them, the soft velvety noses, and how she’d wanted to ride all day.

But she’d been able to climb down when she grew tired of the horses, and find something else to do. Like target-shooting with her cousins.

Even a kid wouldn’t be excited about a day-long butt-whupping on the broad back of an ornery horse.

But what alternative did she have? Rattling along on a hard board bench with Crazy Hoss, hoping bears weren’t planning a surprise raid of their food.

Besides, her gut had been on a steady simmer since Jett’s attitude that morning. She had to prove she could pull her own weight, and so far, she hadn’t proven anything by burning every single meal so far. Even the pancakes at breakfast.

Fern slowed down ahead of her, and turned in the saddle, a pleasant laugh on her lips.

Marlee tried to make clutching the saddle horn with both hands look graceful.