Lucky in Love (Cowboys & Angels Book 2) Read online

  The feel of sweat cooling down her back caused a deep shiver to tremble through her. Her emotions seemed to dip and soar as if on a seesaw. She had to take her mind off the fear. She licked her lips, blinked her eyes, and began to recount her journey.

  The train had dropped her in Creede after days on end of swaying in the noise and soot of the passenger car. At the beginning of the journey, every set of footfalls behind her at a train station caused her heart to jump and her own step to quicken. The creaking sounds of the train elicited images of twisted metal and destruction. Before this adventure, she could count on one hand the number of times she had ventured out on her own—and then only a block or two from her home—and there she was, traveling across a vast country. She had buried her nose and fears into her small book of Psalms and Proverbs.

  Before leaving her seat at Creede, she’d tucked her money into a pocket that was sewn between two of her petticoats. As she stepped off the train, she had never been so relieved to stand on dirt, though her legs felt sore from being cramped on a small bench, the only passage she could afford since now she had to pay her own way.

  She thought again of how liberating it had felt to escape the train, though for many minutes afterward, she felt like she was still moving.

  The owner of the livery stable where she purchased the rig and horse assured her that the drive to Bachelor was an easy three miles north of Creede. If by “easy” he meant a barely passable all-uphill, washboard trail, she was in the right place.

  She’d been happy to leave Creede proper, having seen a dozen saloons and many more women of a certain profession. She had wondered about their brazen calls to the men on the streets and their scantily covered breasts. It was something Julianne had never imagined she would witness. She also wondered what tragedy had caused the women to begin that profession in the first place, and her heart went out to them.

  Julianne hoped the advertisement she’d read in the Chicago paper for citizens to settle a new community was a genuine plea to build a quaint, civilized town, not to tame a city with a sea of canvas tents and dust-coated men.

  More than a little regret balled in the pit of Julianne’s stomach to think she’d left the safety of living with her family, Reverend and Mrs. Parker, to die in Sodom or Gomorrah without saying goodbye. She hoped she would get a chance to write her parents.

  Julianne couldn’t loosen her skirts from the branches beneath her. They were caught too near her derriere to get her legs beneath her. She wasn’t able to pull her skirt free because her hands were busy keeping her from falling. She was good and truly stuck. Again, she considered that jumping from the tree might be her only way down. She knew her dress would tear, but she didn’t know how much—just a rip or losing a swath at the back. Then where would that leave her? In the middle of Nowhere and Nothing with her knickers on display. The only ones that would see them, though, would be the deer that trudged along the slopes.

  Another thought kept her fanny on the narrow, spike-riddled branch. If there was one mountain lion, there might be two.

  Looking down at the dead animal, she realized it was a cat, large and fierce, but a cat. If another came along, it could easily climb this tree to eat her. The limbs were thick and strong, suitable for a mountain lion. Although she’d begun this adventure with a knife tucked into her boot, there had been no time to retrieve it when the animal leaped. She’d done the only thing she could think of to save herself, but it had been enough. Her heart still lurched as she remembered the animal leaping toward her. The awful crush of her parasol against her chest. Frantically climbing the nearest tree. Then watching the mountain lion on the ground.

  She exhaled as if to expel the memory. Well, I refuse to sit here and be helpless.

  There had been no traffic. She supposed she could possibly be undiscovered for many hours. Dread slipped up her gut, turning and tightening. The pitiless sun continued its westward journey and would soon set, then she would be in this tree with predators hidden by the dark.

  Her heartbeat raced, not from fear this time, but to give her courage. There is nothing for it—I must jump. With one hand and her foot at the ready to push against the tree trunk and the other hand positioned to lift her away from the branch, Julianne crouched as best she could and jerked forward.

  Though she did manage to become unseated with sounds of ripping cloth, she didn’t clear the tree, but swung below the branch, hanging from her skirt like yesterday’s wash on the line. Her toes could barely feel the tree trunk now. Her hands could neither reach the ground nor the limb she had just left. The branch creaked, but didn’t break.

  If it wasn’t too humiliating to write her mother a letter about this, Julianne would brag that the dress seams she had made were more than “adequate” and were, in fact, sturdy. No, I can never write to my mother. Julianne knew that her refusal of her parents’ wishes might have hurt their opinion of her, but when she snuck from their house, she’d probably broken their hearts.

  With a little contrition pressing on her mind, Julianne decided that now was a good time to come clean with the Lord—as if He couldn’t already see her heart. Confession is good for the soul, and maybe for getting out of trees, too.

  Lord, I ran away. Well, you know that. And then there’s the fact that I plan to show up uninvited to the reverend in Bachelor, but I don’t think that’s a sin either—only rude. I’m sure he’s a good man. He’s one of yours. This just seemed like something I had to do right now. I love my parents, but not that pinch-faced junior pastor my father wants me to marry. I might be an old maid but that isn’t a sin.

  She tried to push her defiant pride aside and be humble. Strong, but humble. And who knows better than You that I’d make a terrible preacher’s wife—especially his.

  That seemed as close to humility as she was going to get for today, so she ended with a plea. I promise I’ll do better. And please help me get out of this tree?

  With an audible “amen,” she opened her eyes. At that moment, she caught sight of a man driving a buckboard topping the hill and rumbling her direction. For all her waiting to be rescued, this was not how she had imagined it—her body helplessly swinging like a fish caught on a hook.

  Oh, dear.

  As the wagon stopped alongside her wreck, a dust cloud curled around it. With a heavy Southern drawl, the man asked, “You seem to be in a delicate position. May I assist you?” His rich baritone voice lilted with curiosity. She could listen to him talk all day long—if she were anywhere else. When she didn’t accept or reject his offer right away, he set a brake against the wagon wheel and stepped to the ground near her.

  She swung back and forth, her skirts tangled high above her. Julianne’s humiliation was complete. Her stomach sank, but she managed a single pathetic syllable. “Please.” She twisted to brace her tippy-toes against the trunk to try to face the man she answered.

  Lawsa mercy! A handsome, golden-haired man surveyed the wreckage, his shadow blocking the sun from her eyes. Since his attention was elsewhere, Julianne studied him. Powerful legs. Clean shoes. What a thing to notice, but she wondered how anyone would keep their shoes clean in this town that seemed made of dirt. Tall. Broad shoulders. Oh, my—he was impressive. Her stomach flipped and her pulse quickened. His fine clothes looked nothing like the rough-spun cloth on most of the men walking down Creede’s streets.

  She swallowed hard and tried to say something that sounded sensible, though she wondered if that was possible in her current position. She settled for, “If you could help me get down, I’ll be on my way. I had expected to be in Bachelor before evening.” As the man began to move, panic rose in her voice, and her arms flew out to the sides to block his way. “Stay where you are.”

  He stopped only one step closer to her. His smile stretched broadly across his lips, yet improving his devastatingly handsome face. He was clean-shaven, another thing she hadn’t seen much of since leaving Illinois.

  His eyes sparkled. “If you are concerned about me noticing
the pink ribbons you’ve used to tie your knickers below your knees, you needn’t worry. I approached you with my eyes closed and didn’t see the delicate little bows.”

  “Oh, you scoundrel—” Julianne sagged in defeat as a rich, deep laugh broke through the man’s lips. She really did need his help no matter the awkwardness. Her mother had often said that everything is part of the Lord’s plan, so today, humiliation must be part of that plan. With a weak voice she said, “Fine, just get me down. Please.”

  “Yes, ma’am. There will be a minimal cost, of course.” The man wrapped one arm beneath her and raised her up as if she were no bigger than a child. His other hand worked the cloth from the various limbs, with an occasional tug and rip. “I’ll take payment in the form of a story as I drive you into town. Do you agree to tell me how this predicament occurred?”

  Julianne’s toes curled inside her shoes to be close enough to smell his face tonic. Get a hold of yourself, she silently scolded. “I’ll share the story, but not the ride.”

  With a final yank, the dress released, and Julianne’s feet fell to the ground, the rest of her body steadied by the man. For a moment, she was tempted to stay within his capable arms.

  Which commandment would that break?

  She could feel his firm muscles even beneath the coat he wore. She pulled her hands away, stepped back, and shook out her skirt to give her time to gather her wits. She’d never ridden with a man before.

  “Thank you again for the offer, but I won’t risk my reputation being alone with a man in his wagon when I meet my employer for the first time.” She hoped her voice sounded stern, but sensed that it had a teasing quality to it. This was new territory for Julianne—how to show interest in a man and possibly further their acquaintance, but not cross over to impropriety. “We are not yet friends.”

  He tipped his head a little toward a shoulder that shrugged, a broad smile lighting his face. “We seem familiar enough to share names,” he prodded. “I’m Mr. Hugh Fontaine of Colorado.” He bowed slightly at the waist.

  Julianne shook her head. “I hear the South in your voice, Mr. Fontaine.” There was a lilt to her words. She was flirting, and the strange joy and newness of it thrilled her. Was it Mr. Fontaine or her change of circumstance that inspired this burst of playfulness?

  “You’re right—originally from Louisiana,” he added. “Pleased to be of service.”

  She tipped her head in return of the introduction. “Miss Julianne Parker, recently of Chicago. Thank you for rescuing me.” Mr. Fontaine took on the image of a knight in her mind. She realized that sappy notion for what it was—simply relief from the hardship she’d endured that day. She turned to survey the damages to the buggy and to collect her thoughts, something oddly hard to do at the moment.

  The accident could have been much worse. Because of the condition of the road, she was moving very slowly when the wheel crumbled away, causing the front right corner to drop and the axle to break, pitching her to the dirt and releasing the horse from the broken harness.

  “Allow me.” With Mr. Fontaine’s voice very near her ear, her skin raced with chills. She didn’t believe in love at first sight, but she had to admit that this was a heady sort of feeling someone might mistake for it.

  When she turned around, he was pulling her trunk to his wagon. Though she had refused his help, he was seeing to her property anyway. Relief swelled within her. She hadn’t wanted to walk to town and leave her only possessions free for the taking. “I seem to be all gratitude with you. Again, thank you.”

  “Is that umbrella yours?” Mr. Fontaine pointed at the dead mountain lion with the wooden handle protruding from his mouth.

  Julianne winced. “Parasol. Yes. I don’t believe I want it back.” Thick, dark blood had dried on the ground beneath the animal’s mouth. Julianne almost regretted her impulsive action that brought about its death. Almost. “The rest of my things can be delivered to Reverend Bing.”

  Mr. Fontaine shook his head. “No, ma’am. I cannot in good conscience leave you unattended.”

  He held out his hand to Julianne to assist her to step up to the seat high above the box of the wagon, but Julianne didn’t accept. She would have to draw the line here and not cross over. Who knew what else she might find permissible?

  He continued to offer his hand, though the silence stretched. Finally, he added, “Miss, if all the lawless men in Colorado burned in purgatory, this is where the ashes are dumped.” He looked at Julianne as if he was debating telling her more and must have decided for it. His gaze never wavered, but his voice softened. “I don’t mean to worry you, but there are rumors that two women have gone missing. This is no place for a lady to walk alone. You may walk if you wish, but I will follow behind. You will not be out of my sight until we reach the reverend.”

  Julianne blinked, thinking that she was finally getting a picture of the sort of town this was. She glanced about. This was a hard, rugged land, and so were the people who lived here. She wondered if she should tuck tail and run home. No.

  Her thoughts still in a muddle, she placed her hand in his, and awareness zipped up her arm with warm pleasure. She couldn’t tell if he had the same sensation, but his fingers tightened on hers, and his other hand briefly touched her at the waist as she stepped up into the seat. She still felt the impression of his light touch on her back.

  While Mr. Fontaine busied himself with her baggage, she removed her hat and pinned back the plethora of curls that had escaped. Julianne felt a titch silly trying to make herself presentable, but she did it just the same. She plucked pine needles from her hat and the ostrich feather decorating it before she replaced it and tied the bow beneath her chin. Her dress, ripped and filthy, was another matter. She doubted it could be saved.

  Before joining her, Mr. Fontaine shifted his load of barrels and boxes, and then let down the wagon’s tailgate. He loaded her trunk, and dragged the mountain lion by the front paws. He pulled, leaning away and taking small steps backward until he reached the back of the wagon, wrestling the carcass onto the back edge.

  He answered Julianne’s incredulous stare with a slow shake of his head. “I don’t think anyone will believe this story without the evidence.”

  Chapter 3

  Hugh Fontaine

  It had been a warm spring day, but it paled in comparison when Hugh climbed into the seat, feeling the warmth of Miss Parker’s leg running along the length of his. He gave the reins a shake and wondered how slowly his horses could to walk to stretch out the time he would have with Miss Parker.

  The little voice in his head reminded him of his place. Enjoy the ride with her, Hugh. It’s the only one you’ll get. Once she finds out who you are and what you do, she’ll avoid your carriage and your company.

  He looked at the porcelain-complected beauty with appreciation. She seemed completely out of place—especially beside him. With the rocking of the wagon, a few apricot tendrils again escaped the bun at the nape of her neck and swayed in time with the ostrich feather that decorated the tiny bonnet perched on her head. She was delicate, with pleasing curves and smooth hands—not the kind of woman to settle in a mining town. There were few men in a twenty-mile radius who should even receive an introduction to her, including him, but providence had interrupted his life, and he was reaping a fleeting, sweet reward.

  Hugh wondered about the cowpoke’s mention of treasure on the road to Bachelor, and felt assured she was it. Much of his childhood had been spent immersed in God’s word—the nuns made sure of that. Even with all the transgression he’d piled on himself, he could still recognize someone with a pure heart.

  Wanting to hear her voice, he prodded, “I’ll have that story now, if you’d oblige.”

  The road narrowed to two tracks and dropped off ten feet to the river on Julianne’s side. Her hand gripped the crook of his arm, and her gaze was steadily fixed on the road and stream below them.

  Hugh had traveled this road so many times that he rarely looked that way. He hadn’t con
sidered that she might be frightened by it. That seemed to add a new dimension to the protective nature he felt for her. He transferred the reins to one hand and patted her fingers at his elbow. “We’re about out of the bad part. My horses are surefooted. You needn’t worry.”

  Finally, the road widened, and Hugh felt her fingers slacken and release his arm. “Pardon me. That was unexpected.” Julianne’s cheeks pinked, and she gave a tenuous smile.

  Hugh’s breath caught at the sight of it. He could barely nod. It took him a moment to recover. “Of course.” But he immediately missed her touch.

  “It’s silly, really.” Julianne placed her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. “As you saw, my buggy fell to pieces. I heard a loud crack, something like a gunshot.”

  “Green wood,” Hugh stated. “That wheel was made from green wood.”

  “That seems unscrupulous.” A flicker of anger at hearing that news vibrated behind her tone. Again, her hand touched his arm.

  “Yes, it is,” he replied. He wondered if it was a nervous habit of hers to reach out for people. He wouldn’t take it personally that she wanted to touch him, but he could be thankful for the habit.

  Julianne composed herself with a sigh and pulled her hand from his sleeve, a blush again rising in her cheeks, then refolded her hands together before continuing the story. “When it splintered away, I was pitched from the seat. I was sitting on the side of the turned vehicle when I noticed an animal moving slowly in the trees, low to the ground. I was thrilled to see actual wildlife. I’ve seen animals in a zoo, but never in their natural habitat. He was powerful and majestic.

  “I watched until I realized, much too late, that it was a mountain lion, and that I must be the intended prey. It bolted from the trees. I hadn’t any sort of weapon at hand—I’d forgotten about the knife in my boot—so I swung my parasol forward. In a panic, I thought to open it in front of me as a sort of shield, but there wasn’t time. I lifted it, said a quick ‘Lord, protect me’ in my heart, and the animal lunged.”