Johanna Lindsey - A Man to Call My Own

It had been bad enough when he'd thought he'd be traveling with children all the way back to the ranch, but most of the children he knew were well behaved, and he'd expected no trouble from them. Women, on the other hand, could be nothing but trouble, and from what he'd seen of these sisters so far, the "could be" was a definite "would be."

Still he should have figured out sooner that the Laton girls were women, especially after he'd had to track them down. But having it set in his mind that they were too young to be a bother kept him from wondering over the remarks he'd heard about them along the way, and not once were they actually called "women" to his recollection. "Those gals were in a terrible hurry," and "The girls wouldn't listen to reason," and "Those little ladies left the train faster'n harlots leaving a church," didn't exactly point out that they were females who might draw his prurient interest.

Might? 'Hell! That Amanda was as pretty as a picture. Blond hair in a light golden shade and done up to frame her oval face with fashionable curls and ringlets that suited her perfectly. A pert little nose, rose-colored cheeks, a soft chin, and the most luscious lips he'd seen in a long time. And dark blue eyes that sparkled like polished gems, surrounded by thick black lashes a bit smudged from the heat, indicating they probably weren't naturally black, but still, the kind of eyes a man could get happily lost in.

If that wasn't enough, she also had an eye-catching figure a man could drool over. Plump breasts, a trim waist, gently rounded hips, and she wasn't too tall, not much more than a half foot shorter than he, which was rather ideal to his way of thinking.

Her snappishness upon meeting him was understandable. She'd been abandoned in a near ghost town, had suffered through a train robbery before that, and Lord knew what else. For a gently reared lady, the West could be a harsh place, and she'd already experienced more than a fair share of the harsher side. The least he could do was get her to the Twisting Barb without further incident.

As for her sister, the schoolmarmish spinster—with those horrid spectacles she wore, he really couldn't think of her any other way. That wasn't kind, but after the insult she'd dealt him, he had no kind thoughts for her.

They were as different as night and day, so much so that if you didn't know it, you'd never guess they were sisters. Both blond, yes, both blue-eyed and nicely shaped, but the resemblance stopped there.

Marian was obviously the older of the two, and probably made bitter over her spinsterish state. She was probably jealous of Amanda because her younger sister had gotten all the good looks in the family. She wore her hair in an ugly bun and pulled back so severely it was probably as painful as. it looked. She held herself stiffly, stomped about like a man, and had been dressed in dull dun gray.

She might be able to pretty herself up some if she tried, but then again, with those spectacles that gave her a bug-eyed look, she probably figured there wasn't much point in trying. She was the kind of gal that if she set her sights on a man, he'd be running in the opposite direction real quick. The less he thought of her, the better.

The next morning just after dawn they rode out. The ladies weren't too happy about leaving at such an early hour, but it was necessary to reach the next depot before nightfall. At least they were back on the regular stage route, so there should be extra depots along the way between towns for changing the horses and feeding the passengers, and if not, at least there would be designated areas for rest stops.

The driver didn't seem worried about it, though he admitted he'd never driven the route toward Trenton. Will Candles was a crusty individual in his late forties, hair gone to gray early, long handlebar mustache he was right proud of. He'd been driving stagecoaches for about ten years, and mule trains before that, so he knew his job well.

Two days later, Chad had another unpleasant run-in with the spinster. They stopped around midday at one of the better-run depots. It had a stable, a restaurant, offered a wide variety of trade goods, and even had lodgings in case of inclement weather.

The weather had remained good, and was growing a little cooler the farther they traveled northwest. The team was changed while they had lunch. There was a slight delay in leaving though because one of the fresh horses lost a shoe as it was led out to be hitched up. Since the depot only serviced one route, it only kept six horses on hand, so the shoe needed to be refitted if they wanted the fresh horse.

Chad had tried to keep his distance from the ladies as much as possible, if for no other reason than he was attracted to Amanda Laton and traveling, with its attendant discomforts, wasn't a good time for romantic notions. When she was at her new home and settled in, he would decide whether to act on that attraction. So he took his meals with Will, rather than with the ladies, and rode half of each day up on the coach with him, and the other half on his horse, but never inside the stage.

Amanda and the maid, Ella Mae, had already boarded the coach when the horse lost his shoe, and elected to wait inside it. Marian had been purchasing something in the general store and, unaware of the delay, probably thinking she was holding up their departure, came running out to the coach and ran right into Chad's back.

He thought nothing of it. She was a very clumsy woman, always bumping into things—and people. He simply moved out of her way. But she seemed all flustered by the accident and even seemed about to apologize, but then must have changed her mind. How the hell she could end up blaming him for it he couldn't guess, but she did.

"You tried to trip me, didn't you? And it's not the first time. Is it something you developed as a child? Picking on other children with weaknesses? A very mean thing to do. Outgrow it!"

Chad wasn't just surprised at her accusation. He was so incredulous at being blamed by her for something that she knew was her fault, he was rendered speechless. And having insulted him thoroughly for the second time, she then yanked her skirt back away from him, as if it were in danger of getting contaminated, and flounced off.

He almost yanked her back. He even started to reach for her. A good shaking might be just what she needed. But he stopped himself. The ridiculous ideas that got into her head weren't worth wasting his time over. The trouble was, his time was wasted anyway, in mulling over just how infuriating that female was.

The stage robbers who stopped the coach a couple hours down the road couldn't have known it wasn't a good time to hold him up. There were two of them, each gripping pistols in both hands. One actually looked like a girl behind the mask, or a very young boy, short and skinny as all heck. The other, their spokesman, was a big brute of a man.

The call was given to lay down arms and throw out all valuables. Chad, riding up on the driver's seat with Will at the time, didn't oblige. Will did, and quickly. He'd been through countless robberies on his job and had a firm personal policy that he wasn't paid enough to risk his life trying to protect what was in other people's pockets. Chad might have felt the same way, if the spinster hadn't got on his bad side again that day.

Rifle already in hand, since it had been cradled in his lap, he said, "I'm not in a good mood. If you have a lick of sense, that should tell you that you really don't want to mess with me today. If I have to shoot, I'll be shooting to kill. So why don't you think about that for a moment, then get the hell out of here."

It was probably a litde more than even odds that bullets could have started flying right then. Robbers were known to take such chances, and these two already had their weapons at the ready, while only Chad was now armed to oppose them. But they weren't likely to know that there were only women in the coach, so they had to consider that more weapons might be brought into the equation.