“Thanks to the two of you.” She opened the oven, revealing the dinner she’d been saving. “Now it’s our turn to enjoy.”
They were just sitting down at the kitchen table when the door opened and Eric VanEislander stepped in.
“Miss Fuller.”
She smiled. “Yes? Is there something you wanted?”
“There is indeed.” He looked supremely confident as he said, “Whatever you’re being paid here, Miss Fuller, I’m prepared to double it if you’ll agree to come and work for me.”
Maggie’s mouth dropped open. For the space of several seconds she couldn’t think of a thing to say. This had come completely out of the blue.
Finally, composing herself, she kept her smile in place. “Thank you, Mr. VanEislander. That’s a lovely compliment. But I’m perfectly happy here. I wouldn’t consider leaving at any price.”
He studied her a moment. Then, unaccustomed to defeat, he shook his head. “I think, when you have time to reconsider, you just might change your mind.” He reached into his pocket. “Here’s my business card, Miss Fuller, in case you should want to reach me.”
When he had left, Maggie turned to see Cody and Agnes staring at her in silence.
“Well.” She returned to the table. “I wonder if it was my veal piccata or my filet? Or maybe the bananas flambé?”
Cody merely smiled. What Maggie hadn’t seen was Chance, standing just beyond the doorway, watching carefully and listening to every word of their exchange.
Cody had seen something else. The look of surprise mingled with pleasure when she’d gently rebuffed the generous offer to leave.
The days passed in a blur of work. The golden days of late autumn gave way to a sudden chill in the air, signalling what was to come. Agnes warned that winter often arrived in Wyoming without warning, blanketing this part of the country in snow that might not disappear until late in the spring.
Each day without incident seemed to lessen Maggie’s tension. Though there were visitors to the ranch, the Wilde brothers knew each one by name. There had been no strangers. This far from civilization it would seem that no one arrived uninvited, or without the knowledge of half the town of Prosperous.
So many things had changed. Agnes no longer made coffee in the offices, since the three brothers disdained their rooms in favor of the kitchen each morning. More and more often, Maggie was able to persuade Agnes to allow her to send food from the kitchen out to the cowboys in the bunkhouse as well. Chili and burgers were being replaced by pasta and pot roast, salads and homemade biscuits. Maggie managed to take the sting out of it by insisting that the older woman relax in the kitchen with a cup of tea, while she personally hauled the food over to the bunkhouse in a truck. Though Agnes offered a mild protest, she seemed to relish the break in her routine. And, though Agnes continued to insist that she had no use for anything but plain food, she could be seen sampling honey biscuits, cinnamon toast and apple-spiced sticks, and sighing with pleasure. The sight of it always brought a smile to Maggie’s lips.
One afternoon, as Agnes paused in her work for a cup of tea, Maggie set a plate in front of her.
“What’s this?” Agnes glanced at the flaky pastry, then at Maggie.
“I call it cherry almond cornbread. I was hoping it might come close to the one you described as your favorite.”
“Huh.” The old woman sniffed before picking up a fork. She cut off a small piece, tasted, then sat perfectly still as she chewed and swallowed.
“Ah well.” Maggie shrugged, then turned away to retrieve the pot of tea. “I guess I’ll have to try again.”
Agnes quickly blinked away the moisture that sprang to her eyes. “It’s not bad. Maybe I’ll try a little more.”
When Maggie turned, the old woman had cleaned her plate.
Seeing it, Maggie placed the entire pan of cornbread in front of her. “I hope you’ll take the rest of this to your room.”
“What for?”
“I’m making something else for the men tonight. I thought maybe you’d want some of this later.”
“I suppose I could.” Agnes was careful to finish her tea before carrying the pan of cornbread to her room.
Maggie was preparing breakfast when Chance sauntered into the kitchen.
As always, she was excruciatingly aware of him the moment he stepped into the room.
He filled up a cup of coffee and sipped.
“You’ve been here four weeks now.”
She nodded.
“I told you we’d review your employment after two weeks.”
She could hardly breathe. She’d been waiting for this. And hoping maybe it had been forgotten.
“Are you happy here, Maggie?”
“Very.” She could see no reason to hide her feelings. “Are you pleased with my work so far?”
“Yeah. Very pleased.”
She waited, aware that he was watching her over the rim of the cup.
“My brothers and I had a meeting last night. We agreed that we’d like to continue your employment and offer you a raise if you’ll stay on.”
She tried to contain her excitement. The truth was, she’d stay for half the pay. “How much?”
“Fifty dollars more a week.”
She nodded and hoped she didn’t look too smug. “That sounds fair.”
“You’ll stay then?”
“I’ll stay.”
“Good.”
She turned away to remove a pan of biscuits from the oven. When she straightened, he was standing beside her.
“There’s something else.”
She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. His voice had taken on that low, intimate tone she’d begun to recognize.
“I’m still waiting for you to decide about us.”
She swallowed. “I told you. There is no us, Chance.”
“And I told you. There will be.”
When the door opened on a rush of cold air, admitting Hazard and Cody, he left her and joined them at the table. But all through the meal she could feel him watching her. It left a prickly sensation along her spine.
As the days settled into a comfortable routine, Maggie was actually beginning to believe that she could make a new life for herself here in Wyoming. The slower pace of ranch life was a soothing balm to her soul. She hadn’t realized how much pressure she’d been living with until it began to ease. And as the tension eased, so did the headaches she’d been experiencing. She felt as though a steel band had been removed from around her temples.
Everything about Wyoming was new and exciting: the barns and outbuildings that she began to explore with Hazard and Cody, the vast expanse of pastureland that she could view from the windows of the ranch house. Even the blustery, bleak weather sweeping across the countryside didn’t dampen her enthusiasm. After all, she’d faced some bitter winters in Chicago. How much worse, she questioned, could it be here in the West?
Though it was early October, and snow had been predicted, she blithely faced the coming winter with optimism born of innocence.
Now if only she could ease the tension when she was around Chance. Whenever she found herself alone with him, even for a few minutes, she could feel herself wavering in her determination to hold him at arm’s length. There was just something about him. A feeling that beneath that smooth, successful face he showed the world lay a hint of darkness, a thread of excitement.
It was clear to her that Chance Wilde was a man who’d always followed his own path, regardless of what others thought. When he flashed that dangerous smile, she could feel all her hard-won resolve begin to crumble.
There was another side to him, as well. A playful side that broke through on occasion.
“Do I smell cookies?”
Maggie looked up from the oven to see Chance standing in the doorway. He’d changed from his business suit to comfortable jeans and a plaid shirt, with the sleeves rolled to the elbows.
“You do. Chocolate chip. I didn’t hear the helicopter.”
“I us
ed the limo today. Ace and I had a meeting at WildeMining.” He stayed where he was, afraid to go closer. Every time he looked at her he wanted her. That only made things worse. He’d meant what he had said. The next time was up to her. And so he kept his distance. And waited.
“How’d you know chocolate chip cookies were my favorite?”
“They’re every man’s.” She continued removing the cookies from the baking sheet onto a plate. When she looked up she glanced beyond him. “Where’s Ace?”
“Gone into town. It’s time for his weekly fleecing of the suckers at Clancy’s pool hall.”
“Doesn’t he ever lose?”
Chance grinned. “Once in a while. But he’s really good. There aren’t many in Prosperous who can beat him.”
“Doesn’t it worry you that your brother is a gambler?”
He threw back his head and roared.
Puzzled, she arched a brow. “Why was that question so funny?”
“Sorry.” Unable to resist the scent of freshly baked cookies any longer, he opened the refrigerator and filled a tall glass with ice-cold milk. “If you knew our family history, you’d understand. We come from a long line of gamblers. It’s in our blood.”
“You mean speculators. Prospectors. Men who chased after gold or oil. That’s not the same as a gambler who shoots pool or plays poker.”
He shook his head and helped himself to a hot cookie, savoring the taste of it, the texture of the melting choc olate, before washing it down with a long drink of milk. “Maggie, a gambler’s a gambler. Whether he’s chasing after oil or minerals or another man’s money, it’s all the same. It takes a certain kind of man to risk everything he has on the toss of the dice or the turn of a shovel in the ground. Trust me. Ace is just doing what comes naturally to a Wilde.” He looked up at the ring of the telephone. As he turned away he said, “Remind me one day to tell you about my father. Now there was a true gambler.”
Minutes later he returned and grabbed a handful of cookies as he headed toward the door. “Crisis in the barn. Hazard and Cody need my help. We’ll be a little late for dinner.”
As he sauntered away, Maggie stared after him. It was always Chance they called when things went wrong. Whether it was a crisis in the barn or at his company, she had come to the conclusion that Chance would be up to handling it, no matter what the problem.
When another hour had ticked by, Maggie made her way to the barn with a carafe of hot coffee and a tray of sandwiches.
Chance looked up in surprise. “What’s this?”
“Just enough to keep you men going until you can come in for some real food.”
Chance watched as Hazard and Cody poured themselves cups of steaming coffee and devoured several sandwiches, barely chewing them in their haste.
As always in her presence, Cody tipped his hat. “Thank you kindly, Maggie. That’s just what we needed. Looks like you read our minds, as usual.”
“There are more here when you need them.” Maggie set the tray on a bale of hay before walking away.
As soon as she was gone Chance turned to Cody. “What do you mean, as usual?”
“Oh. Didn’t you know?” Cody bent to the sick calf, holding him still while Hazard drew a vial of blood. “A lot of times lately, if we get too busy to go inside, Maggie brings the food to us here in the barn.”
“She’s been doing that a lot lately?”
Hazard shrugged, too busy to notice the frown between his brother’s brows. “Yeah. Funny. I don’t know how she figures out just when Cody and I have reached the end of our energy level. Like magic she appears just in the nick of time.”
Cody, watching Chance’s reaction, nodded. “That little gal’s like an angel of mercy. Helping us to keep body and soul together.” He moved aside. “Here, Chance. Hold this while we get another sample.”
He handed the vial to Chance, then tightened his grip on the calf while Hazard drew more blood.
While he waited and watched, Chance felt the beginnings of a smile playing on his lips. Maggie Fuller might be a city girl who didn’t know the first thing about life on a ranch. And she might vehemently deny she was doing anything more than she was being paid to do. But he was beginning to think there was a whole lot more going on here than met the eye. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was beginning to connect. Beginning to really care about them.
If she wasn’t careful, she might learn to love it here.
“Maggie.” Cody removed his hat and held it in front of him as he entered the kitchen carrying the tray. “Hazard thanks you for the coffee and sandwiches. And so do I. We’ll be in for supper in a couple of hours.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, Cody.” She accepted the tray and set it on the kitchen counter.
When he turned away she said, “Do you have to hurry back?”
He paused. Turned. “No, ma’am. Is there something you need help with?”
“No.” She took a breath, then released it. “I was just curious about something.”
“Yes’m?”
“Chance’s father. Was he born and raised here in Wyoming?”
Cody chuckled. “No ma’am. Wes Wilde always claimed he was raised on a hardscrabble farm in Georgia. Nobody knows for sure, because he left home when he was twelve and never looked back. If there were any family or friends who knew him, they’d be long gone by now.”
“He left home at twelve? How does a boy of twelve leave home?”
“He claimed he jumped a freight train headed north.”
“But why?”
“He said he had an itch that just had to be scratched. An itch to leave the farm and see the world.”
“What does a boy of twelve do without a home or family? How did he eat? Where did he sleep?”
The old man scratched his head. “He claims he never gave it a thought. He figured he’d worry about survival when he hopped off the train. His first stop was someplace in Ohio. He joined a circus, and spent the summer cleaning up after the circus animals. By the following year he was running one of the sleight-of-hand games in the midway, and doing exactly what he wanted—seeing the country. The circus never stayed in any town more than a week. And he was learning to survive by his wits. He discovered he was a born gambler. He used to boast that he had the fastest hands in the business. Nobody could catch him changing cards or coins. Not even experienced con artists.”
“That was his goal? To become a con artist?”
The old cowboy shook his head. “A gambler. By the time he was eighteen he was running his own craps game in Detroit. When he got busted, he moved to Las Vegas and worked odd jobs until he was old enough to gamble legally. But that didn’t last long either. Once the word was out that he was a pro, his face became too familiar to the security people, and whenever they spotted him they’d toss him out of the game and out of the casino.”
Warming to his story, Cody pulled up a chair and straddled it.
“He took a job dealing craps at a little joint in downtown Vegas, and started saving his money. At about that same time he met another gambler, Mason Gabriel, who was working in the poker room. They pooled their money, and one night they parlayed five hundred dollars into twenty-five thousand.”
Maggie’s eyes widened. “I can’t even imagine anyone willing to risk everything on the turn of a card, when they had to work so hard to earn it. But at least it paid off. Twenty-five thousand.” She shook her head. “Is that when he bought this ranch?”
Cody threw back his head and chuckled. “Ma’am, twenty-five thousand dollars wouldn’t buy a fraction of this place. Wes Wilde and Mason Gabriel used that twenty-five thousand to buy their way into a bigger game. A much bigger game, with much bigger fish. In a villa in Monte Carlo, they took on an oil baron, a tobacco heir and a shipping tycoon in a seventy-two-hour poker marathon. And they wound up with the deed to one hundred thousand acres of prime Wyoming land.” He laughed, remembering the way his old friend always loved telling the story. “The only problem was, Mason was a city boy, w
ho wanted nothing to do with the land. All he wanted was to get back to Vegas and live the life he loved. So he insisted they sell the land.”
“Did Wes Wilde want to sell it, too?”
Cody shook his head. “Now, mind you, Wes didn’t have a dime to his name. But he suddenly realized that he wanted, more than anything in this world, to get back to the land. Not just any land. This land. It became his obsession. He begged Mason to join him in working the land. He was afraid if they couldn’t work together, they’d both end up losing it. But Mason refused. All he wanted was to live the good life in Vegas. So Wes and Mason had the land appraised, and found out it was worth half a million dollars.”
“Half a million.” Maggie couldn’t seem to take it all in. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Yes and no. You see, the more it was worth, the more Mason would demand as his share. So, in order to buy Mason out, Wes Wilde had to mortgage the land and bury himself in debt. But he was so determined to hang on to what he’d won, he begged, borrowed and nearly worked himself to death. In the end, he did it. He was able to come up with a quarter of a million dollars, and Mason went off to Vegas, still calling Wes Wilde every kind of fool for giving up a life of ease for one of hardship. And it really was hardship in the early years. It took all of them—Wes, his wife, his three sons—working every minute of the day and night just to hold onto it.”
Maggie was shaking her head in wonder. “Is that why you helped him?”
The old man nodded. “I really admired that man and his family. Half the time they didn’t know what they were doing. After all, Wes was a gambler, not a rancher. But they kept on struggling to make it all work.”
“Did Wes Wilde live long enough to see that his sacrifice was worthwhile?”
Cody shrugged. “Wes used to joke that all he’d done was exchange one miserable piece of hardscrabble land for another. But the truth was, he was having the time of his life. He’d come full-circle. This was what he had wanted. All he had wanted. What was even more important to him was the fact that he was able to leave his three sons a legacy. Not just this land and their devotion to it. But more important, their devotion to one another.”