Bet You'll Marry Me (7 page)

“Anyone less muscled,” she said, swallowing hard, “could have been seriously hurt. Still, it's probably too painful for you to ride.”

“I can ride,” he said, giving her a dark look. “Don't you dare try to use this as an excuse to leave me behind on the pack trips.”

“But the first pack trip is this weekend. That's just three days from now. You can't possibly—”

“You promised Harry you'd take me with you.”

“That was before you got hurt.”

“I'll be fine. Besides, I thought you enjoyed finding new ways to torture me.”

“Absolutely,” she said, smiling.

Suddenly, the power went out and a loud clap of thunder shook the darkened room.

“Stay here with me,” he said, hooking an arm around her waist and drawing her toward him, “and you can torture me all you like.”

“Forget it, cowboy.” She pulled away from his grasp and gathered her medical supplies. At the doorway she hesitated and glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Just because I like you doesn't mean I want to jump into bed with you,” she warned. “I still intend to win the bet.”

Nick gave her one of his sly heart-stopping grins. “Me too.”

L
ATE THE FOLLOWING
day, Jenny was outside the stable when one of the horses shied away from the roadside fence and lifted its head to send out a whinnying cry of warning to the rest of the herd.

Jenny instinctively looked over her shoulder.
Drat!
Stewart Davenport, manager of Mountain View Bank, was headed straight for her. The wheels of his monstrous, ink-black pickup spit gravel and kicked the dust into an ugly brown funnel-cloud as it barreled up the long, narrow driveway.

She dropped the wheelbarrow with a thud, spilling some of the steaming manure and old yellowed stall shavings over the side. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she cast an anxious glance up toward the two-story timber-framed house, where Sarah watched over her Uncle Harry. Then her gaze darted toward the barn, and into the crisp, golden hay fields beyond. The hum of a tractor echoed in the distance, but Nick, Wayne, Josh, and Billie were nowhere in sight.

She'd have to face Davenport alone. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for what was sure to be an unpleasant visit. When the bank manager made house calls it was never to chat about the cows or to sip a glass of lemonade.

Stewart Davenport climbed out of the truck, his hair slicked back, tie straight, and his cheap cologne overpowering the rank smell of the wheelbarrow of manure. Her mortgage was more than six months behind, and judging from the grim set of his jaw, he wasn't too happy about it.

“Hello, Jenny,” he said, tipping his gray cattleman's hat toward her. His hard, stony expression matched the rough tone of his voice.

“Hello, Stewart,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “How nice to see you again—so soon. Is there anything wrong?”

“Besides the fact your ranch continues to slip further and further into debt, and you haven't returned any of my phone calls?”

“Harry was in the hospital and I—”

“I heard about Harry,” he said, cutting her off. “God knows everyone hears about everyone and everything in this small town. I also heard about your bet with Nick Chandler.”

“The ten thousand dollars I win from him will go straight toward the ranch debt and the upcoming pack trip money will cover the rest.”

“I didn't come here to discuss your finances.”

Jenny raised her brows. “You didn't?”

“You fired my cousin.”

“Frank was costing us valuable money.”

“You weren't paying him a salary. He worked hard for his food and board, and you threw him out on the streets.”

“I'm sure he could live with you for a while, since you
are
his cousin. You don't seem to be hurting for money.”

“Don't you get sassy with me, Miss O'Brien. Your father and I had a deal. He agreed to hire Frank so I would extend his loans.”

“I am not my father and you haven't kept your end of the bargain. You threatened me with foreclosure the last time you were here.”

“This land would be put to better use if it were turned into a resort. Such a venture would boost the economy and make the town thrive once again. The
bank
would thrive again.”

“I won't let you take Windy Meadows away from me,” she said. “I will have the money I owe you by the end of summer.”

“You'll need the money before that. I'm moving up your foreclosure date.”

“You can't do that!”

“Frank was the only one who kept the ranch running all these years. Now that you fired him I don't see why I should give you any more time.” Stewart Davenport handed her an official bank notice with her new foreclosure date stamped at the bottom.

Jenny gasped. “July thirteenth?”

The bank manager chuckled. “I thought it would make the bet more interesting.”

Jenny ground her teeth. The vile man's presence made her skin crawl. The sooner she won the bet and paid her back debt, the better. More than anything she wished she had the money to pay off her mortgage completely so Stewart Davenport could never step foot on her property and threaten her again.

She had been born on the ranch. She knew every trail, every stream, every rock, tree, and gopher hole. Windy Meadows wasn't just her home, but her
life.

Ever since she could remember, she had been helping her father and the other ranch hands round up the cows, mend the fences, and harvest the hay. And when she wasn't working, she'd fish with her cousin . . . or go into the woods to gather wild berries for her mother's homemade jams . . . or hike up to Harp Lake to swim with her friends.

But what she loved most were the horses. She raised them, trained them, and won trophies and blue ribbons with them. There was nothing better than racing across the open fields with the wind in her hair, the sun in her eyes, and the crisp, clean vanilla scent of ponderosa pine wafting down over the mountains.

She gazed out over the golden, sweet-scented fields, the horse's heartwarming neighs calling out to her, and she couldn't imagine living anywhere else.
Ever.

“You can't take away my ranch,” she repeated, fear spiraling out of control up her spine. “I won't let you.”

Davenport gave her a smug half grin. “I bet my money on Chandler.”

 

Chapter Seven

N
ICK STUFFED AN
extra shirt into his backpack as Billie entered his bedroom and closed the door.

“Did you search Jenny's room?” he asked, adding a pair of pants to the pack as well.

“Mission accomplished.” Billie flopped down on the end of his bed. “First off, she isn't the neatest person you've met. Clothes are tossed everywhere, old bridles hang in her closet, and every flat surface is covered with family photographs.”

“Sounds a lot like her tack room,” he mused. “Did you find anything useful?”

“She likes men in white dress shirts. It was written in her journal. She thinks white dress shirts are sexy.”

“Slim chance of wearing a white dress shirt on a ranch. Anything else?”

“She likes to read.” Billie tossed a book into his lap. “Romances. Her shelves are lined with them.”

“What kind of girl likes romance but doesn't date and refuses to marry?”

Billie swatted her hand at him as if he were stupid. “The kind who must have had their heart broken pretty bad in the past.”

“Like when you overheard dad say girls who wore dresses were useless?”

Billie bristled. “I was only six! Besides, I barely remember him.”

“You haven't worn a dress since.”

Billie sprung up from the bed and circled the room. “We moved to Grandpa's ranch after that. Wearing a dress around a ranch is as impractical as a white dress shirt. If anyone should understand broken hearts, it's you. Remember when Caroline broke up with you?”

Nick's jaw tightened. Caroline. The woman who had used him to work herself up in the business world, take half his most reputable clients, and then toss him aside without so much as a ‘thank you dear' on her way out. After her was Stacy, who appeared innocent enough, but had all the makings of Caroline on the inside. In fact, almost all the women he dated proved to be Caroline in one form or another. Each one taking a piece of his company with them. And his heart.

That's why when he found he couldn't pull the money Billie needed out of company funds, he chose to come out here and deceive Jenny. He was angry at Jenny for rejecting his buy-out proposals—angry at any woman's rejection since Caroline. He wanted to get back at her—had no qualms about coming out and trying to romance the land away from her.

Until he met Jenny in person and saw how much she cared about the ranch and the people around her. How vulnerable she was when Patrick told her he was leaving and again when Harry collapsed and lay in that hospital room. She wasn't heartless and vindictive; she was crushed, and just barely hanging on.

Heartbroken. Just like him.

“Now there's a surprise. You'd never know Jenny is a sucker for romance by the way she treats me. What have I been doing wrong?” Nick studied the book cover. A man and a woman were dancing in a rose garden. “How do the men in the books make the women fall in love with them?”

“How should I know?” Billie said, throwing her hands up in the air. “
I
certainly don't read them. But maybe you should. The men have arrived for the pack trip and are flirting with her like mad.”

“They're here?” Nick crossed to the window and sucked in his breath. Almost a dozen men surrounded Jenny in the yard below. “They think they can win the bet and search for the gold at the same time.”

“Good luck,” said Billie.

Her woeful tone reminded him of the uphill battle he was about to face. With so many others vying for Jenny's attention, when would he have a moment alone with her?

J
ENNY SWALLOWED THE
building saliva in the back of her throat as she lined up the pack string and made some last-minute adjustments in the pecking order.

Most designated wilderness areas in Washington limited the party size of humans and animals to a combination of twelve heartbeats, but she would be taking her group into the Lake Chelan-Sawtooth Wilderness, which allowed twelve people plus eighteen pack and saddle animals. Her stomach twisted in knots just thinking about it. She was going to be up in the mountains, alone, with eleven men.

Even now, the thought of backing out crossed her mind, but she was the only one who knew the trails, could cook,
and
had medical experience in case of an emergency.

“Trust Nick,” Harry said, from a wheelchair, which allowed him to be outside. “He won't let any of those men touch you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Oh, I'm sure.” Her uncle chuckled.

“And if Nick should misbehave?”

“He won't,” Harry assured her. “But it wouldn't hurt to let him get to know you, Jenny. If you are ever going to love someone, you're going to have to take risks.”

Heat rose into her cheeks. “I am not going to risk loving a man who only wants to win a bet.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

Startled, she turned around to face a short little man, holding a pad of paper and a pen in position to write. “Who are you?”

“Alan Simms, reporter for the
Cascade Herald.”

“Did you sign up for this pack trip?”

“Yes, I did,” he said, lifting his pointed nose in the air and staring at her with the brown beady eyes of a rat.

“No, you cannot quote me,” she said, handing him a saddle that nearly dropped him to his knees. “And if you do write anything about this pack trip, it better be good.”

“I promise,” said the rat-man, giving her an unnerving grin, “it will be good.”

Her uneasiness grew as Charlie Pickett, David Wilson, and Kevin Forester arrived. Hadn't she told those three seasoned cowboys she didn't want to marry them?

Charlie inherited his ranch from his grandfather, but he dreamed of singing and one day becoming a recording artist with platinum music awards displayed on his wall. He wasn't committed to Pine, and she suspected he might leave if offered a contract to go on tour.

David was quiet, a bit untidy in appearance, and his best friend was a hound dog who liked to drool all over the front porch. While she appreciated his sincerity and ability to live off the land like his grandpa, Levi MacGowan, he didn't appear quick-witted and he lacked ambition.

Kevin owned a ranch three tracts over, on the other side of the Hanson's hayfields. He shared a love of horses, something she could relate to, but he was also a fireman whose heart had been burned by his last girlfriend. Passion didn't extend past his cowboy poetry and Jenny knew he proposed only as a friend.

Ted Andrews, owner of Andrew's Auto Garage had also laid down money at the café, but he was so obnoxious his bet didn't count. The man couldn't even ranch.

Her hands trembled as she checked off their names on her clipboard and collected their money. She should have gone over the sign-up sheet herself instead of letting Harry do it, but after coming home from the hospital her uncle needed a task to make him feel useful.

“Jenny!” Wayne hurried toward her with his hand locked on Billie's arm. “Shouldn't she be going with you? What if she has an epileptic seizure?”

Billie yanked her arm free and screwed her face into an infuriated scowl. “I am
not
epileptic.”

“We're only allowed twelve people,” Jenny told him. She smiled at Billie. “And she's not epileptic.”

“That's not what she said when she came here,” Wayne argued. “I heard she was epileptic and had nightmares.”

“It is a nightmare to try to wake her up in the morning,” Jenny admitted. “I bought her a second alarm clock but it didn't help. I think she needs fifty of them.”

“The only nightmare around here is you,” Billie shouted, and kicked Wayne in the shin.

“Ow!” he cried out, releasing her. “Jenny, you can't leave me alone with her, the little varmint's a menace!”

Jenny frowned. “You won't be alone with her. Harry and Josh will be there with you. And Sarah.”

Wayne looked at Billie, who glared back at him.

“You're just afraid I'll beat you at poker again,” Billie taunted.

That's not all he was afraid of. Jenny thought Wayne looked about as wary of staying home as she did about going on the pack trip, but then his expression relaxed.

“Billie, what is your full name?”

The young woman lifted her chin. “Barbara Jean Chandler.”

“Big name for such a small person,” he drawled. “Must go with the big attitude.”

While Wayne and Billie continued to fight, Jenny spied an old man with a long white ponytail tying a weathered green rucksack behind the saddle of one of the packhorses.

“Levi, what on earth are
you
doing here?”

“Goin' on a pack trip,” he said, brushing down his white woolly whiskers.

“But—” Jenny's mind whirled. “You've been exploring these mountains since before I was born. Why would you want to pay
me
to take you on a pack trip?”

“For the entertainment,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Never in the history of Pine has there been a more anticipated event, and you can be darn sure I ain't gonna miss it.”

“I'm afraid you might be disappointed,” she told him. “We're just going to ride up Wild Bear Ridge, camp, and ride back down again. You've already done that a thousand times.”

“Yep,” he said with a chuckle, “but never with a group of eleven men who are all tryin' to marry one woman. It should prove to be
mighty
interesting.”

She tried to laugh. She wanted to cry. She glanced at Nick, who was loading sleeping bags and tents into the pack boxes, and her tension eased.

Despite her initial protests, she was glad the tall, dark-haired cowboy was coming along. No matter how bleak the situation, his lighthearted banter could always make her smile.

Except he didn't banter with her as they headed out over the old logging trail. He didn't even ride next to her. While she rode in front of the group, Nick brought up the rear to make sure no one fell behind.

“Quite a view,” sang Charlie Pickett, riding up beside her as they crested the rocky bluff at Talon's Point, “but not half so pretty as you.”

She attempted a smile, and failed, wishing she could escape and fly like the eagles circling above.

She should be happy. It was a perfect day for the pack trip. A light breeze held off the summer heat. The scent of the lush green meadow grass was remarkably fragrant. And the day was filled with sparkling sunshine. Who couldn't be happy when the sun was shining?

Me, Jenny thought, chewing her lower lip. She'd been hearing corny comments all morning as each of the men vied to ride in the position beside her on the trail. Each of the men, that is, except Nick. He remained a million miles away, at the tail end of the pack string.

By mid-afternoon she'd stopped the group at the twenty-five-foot fire tower, where they would camp for the night. Following her lead, the men dismounted, tied the horses to the hitching rail, and climbed the two flights of creaky stairs to the top. The glass windows of the timber cabin were dusty, so they went out to the wraparound deck to get a better look at the land below.

“I've never been up here,” said Alan Simms, taking a camera out of his press bag.

“Wild Bear Lookout was built in nineteen thirty-eight and manned by the U.S. Forest Service until nineteen ninety-seven,” she said, gazing at the town of Pine and the surrounding ranches miles below. “It's been abandoned ever since.”

“Great place to see fireworks,” Ted Andrews commented. “Although I see fireworks every time I look at you, Jenny.”

She rolled her eyes in disgust and the men laughed.

“Fireworks have been banned this year. The area is too dry,” Kevin informed them, “but this place would make a nice romantic getaway, wouldn't it Jenny?”

“With the right person it might.”

“Jenny, look!” Kevin pointed into the sky. Red smoke billowed out in streams behind a single-engine plane maneuvering in a dancelike fashion across the sky.

“What in tarnation is that there fella tryin' to do?” Levi exclaimed.

“He's writing a message,” Kevin told them. “The pilot is a friend of mine from the fire station.”

“I see some letters forming now,” said Charlie. Then he began to sing, “It says, ‘Jenny marry me?' ”

“The pilot wants to marry Jenny?” asked David, scratching his scruffy brown head.

“No, you imbecile.
I do
. I paid the pilot to write the message for
me
.” Grabbing hold of her waist from behind, Kevin pulled her close. “Jenny, we've known each other since grade school and I figure marriage is a practical solution to both our problems. I have no money to loan you, but if you marry me, I'd be happy to sell my ranch to save yours. I need the river to water my herds, and to me, a marriage between us just makes sense. So what do you say?”

Her stomach locked down hard. If she
were
to marry, she didn't want a marriage that just made sense. She wanted what her parents had—-true love.

“Sorry, Kevin.” She twisted out of his arms and darted away from him, her heart pounding.

Kevin frowned. “I've been denied.”

Of course he was denied. She would deny every single one of them. Kneeling, Jenny squeezed the handle of her boot knife, and let the air exhale out of her lungs. She didn't want any of them to grab her like she was some plaything to toss back and forth. If Kevin had held her a moment longer she might have used the knife to protect herself. Especially since it appeared her appointed bodyguard wasn't going to intervene.

She glanced at Nick, who hovered toward the back of the group. He watched her, but neither smiled nor said a word. What was wrong with him? Didn't he care Kevin had his arms around her?

A short while later, Jenny drew closer to him to find out. She put eight of the horses into the preexisting ten-by-ten wooden corrals. The rest were tied to high hitch-lines, which Nick set up between the trees.