Chasing Clovers (2 page)

Her
lips lifted at the corners, but then faltered. How could she smile? How was she supposed to be happy when all she felt was empty, incomplete and―worst of all―alone?

The buckboard rolled past shops, hotels, and even though she didn't want to see it, the saloon. Relieved to be putting the town and its harsh reminders behind her, she stared at the fields.

The stage master was true to his word when he had said,
"You'll never see a sight like the prairies. It looks like a patchwork quilt, green and yellow with a touch of orange when the sun hits it."

Lost in the array of colors,
she stared at the stalks swaying in the breeze. The hot sun beat down on her and she remembered the bonnet hanging around her neck. She placed it atop her head, not bothering to tie it but letting the strings dangle in the breeze.

"
Sun gets real hot during the summer months," he told her. "Best to always wear a hat."

Unsure of what to say, she stayed silent.

They had traveled for almost two hours. Livy was grateful when he pulled the wagon to a stop below a large oak tree. Her bottom was beginning to go numb and she needed to stretch.

"
I'm hungry. How about you?" John lifted a red blanket and a basket from behind the seat. He jumped down from the wagon and strolled toward the tree. "Coming?"

As soon as her feet touched the ground, she stretched
and tried to work some of the kinks out of her sore muscles. Feeling a little better, she moved toward him, who fanned out the blanket and plopped down. Motioning for her to do the same, he opened the basket and handed her a piece of cheese and a slice of buttered bread.

Her
stomach grumbled as she bit into the moist bread.

"
Mmmm," she hummed.

"
Yeah, Alice can sure make good bread," he said before taking a bite of his own.

"
Alice? Is that your housekeeper?"

He shook his head
. "No, I don't have one."

She was mesmerized at how his work-worn
hands transformed into a light, almost feathery touch while he blotted his lips.

"
Alice and Hank own the ranch that borders mine. She bakes my bread and watches the children from time to time."

"
Oh."

He
took a deep breath. "Look, Livy…I know we've only written each other a few times," his dark eyes studied her, "but I hope I made it clear that you'll be cooking and cleaning as well as looking after the children." He took another bite of cheese.

He
had
made it perfectly clear in all four letters she'd received. But she had lied when she told him she knew how to cook. She purchased two cookbooks and read a few pages on her journey, but she had not put any of this knowledge to use.

"
Um, that will be fine." She hesitated. "But I must tell you, I have little experience cooking."

He stopped chewing. "How little?"

With nowhere to go and little money left, she lied.
"I know enough that you won't starve."

He must
have believed her because he didn't question her any more. Instead, he finished his lunch.

"
You remember the children's names?" he asked after a while.

Of course she did.

"
Ben and…" She didn't want to say the little girl's name. "Em―" She cleared her voice. "Emily."

Emotions that
she had kept locked up began to escape. The panic that always came when she thought of her daughter started to crawl up her chest. A sharp pain slashed across her heart. Her throat felt thick and sticky.

She
grabbed the flask of water and took a long drink. Her eyes grew moist. She swallowed hard.

"
Are you okay?" He touched her shoulder.

Heat from his hand radiated down her chilled body, but she couldn't move away. She was forced to endure his touch.

"
I had a piece of bread caught in my throat."

S
he coughed, lying for the second time in five minutes. This time she didn't feel guilty.

He eyed her for a few seconds. "Are you all right now?"

"
Yes." She blinked back tears. "I'm fine, Mr. Taylor."

Only she wasn
't fine and wasn't sure she ever would be.

He stood and offered
his hand. "Call me John."

She hesitated. Part of her wanted to take his hand, to feel wanted, accepted. But she knew all too well what her touch could lead to.

Her fingers dug into the blanket beneath her.
With an impatient huff, he grasped her hand. She felt the calluses on his warm palm and slowly closed her fingers around his, so he could bring her to her feet.

"
Em's my little angel." A sad smile lay across his face. "Sweet as the woman who gave birth to her."

He let go of her and
she felt the instant cold on her palm.

"
I'm sure she is," she said.

The mention of children put her on edge. Most times she
'd walk away, but today there was nowhere to go and her mouth had taken liberties yet again.

"
Livy, does it bother you that I have children?" The blanket dangled from his hands. "Because if it does, say so now. I won't have a wife who doesn't approve of my kids." His lips formed a straight line, grim and full of displeasure.

"
No. I…I like children."

This wasn
't a lie. She
did
like children―what she knew of them anyway. She hadn't grown up with any other kids. Living inside a saloon didn't exactly make you front-runner in the friendship corral. Most of the kids she came across either teased her or were afraid of her. And what she knew of having her own children, she'd rather forget.

He would take her back to town and put her on the next stagecoach if she didn
't make this right. If truth be told, that's what she deserved. To be alone, a castaway thrown to the slums without another thought.

S
he tried to smile, but her efforts proved futile. "I'm sorry." She wasn't the least bit sincere. "I'm a little irritable from the long ride. Please accept my apology…John."

"
Apology accepted."

Relief washed over her.

"
When will we get to your ranch?" she asked.

"
You're already on my land. Have been for the last half hour."

When
he grinned, she had never seen a more handsome face in all her life. His dark eyes brightened and he seemed to relax before her eyes.

He
had said they'd be traveling for another couple of hours.

How big i
s his spread?

She scanned the fields
.

"
The T-Bar Ranch is one of the biggest cattle ranches this side of the mountains." The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

It had been so long since she
'd felt proud, since she'd been happy. Would she ever feel those emotions again?

"
Y-you own all of this?"

He
pushed his hat back, grabbed the flask and took a long drink. "Yup, I sure do. Worked my fingers to the bone gettin' it that way too."

"
You must be proud."

"
Damn right I am," he replied. "I live and breathe this land. It's a part of me. Like my son and daughter, they all sit right here." He patted his chest.

"
Your wife must've loved it here."

His expression changed from one of delight to regret. She instantly felt horrible. She knew his wife had died. He'd said so in his letters. She also knew what it was like to lose a loved one, and the emptiness that came with the loss.

"
Yes, she did," he whispered.

She couldn
't look into his eyes. She didn't want to see the pain that lay in their dark depths.

"
I'm sorry."

"
For what?" he demanded, disgust on his face. "She's gone and there ain't a damn thing you or me or anybody else can do about it."

One minute he was beside her, the next he was at the wagon.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

When t
he ranch house came into view some fifty yards after the wagon crested a hill, Livy inhaled at the vast picture before her. The large whitewashed house stood two stories tall and a porch wrapped around the entire dwelling. The house and the brightly colored flowers planted along the walk were a welcoming sight.

Two barns were situated
to the left of the house. She could hear the clucks from the chicken coop. Fenced corrals with cows penned inside were scattered all around. Cattle sprawled over the land, grazing in the fields. Beyond the house she could see the Rocky Mountains. The mammoth jagged rocks were intimidating yet stunning.

"
It's so beautiful," she said, awestruck.

John
smiled for the first time since they left their resting point. "Yes, it is. I never tire of seeing it when I come home."

"
How could you not? It's perfect."

He
stopped the wagon in front of the house, jumped down and came around to help her. Although she attempted to wave him away, his strong hands wrapped around her waist and brought her to the ground.

"
Go on ahead and wait for me inside," he said.

Nervous, she
glanced up at him and only relaxed when he gave her a kind smile. His hands were still on her waist. As he stared down at her, she couldn't quite make out the play of emotions that flickered in his sable-colored eyes. Uncomfortable with having him so close, she tried to step out of his grasp, but his hands tightened on her waist.

"
Mr. Taylor, please." She pressed her palms against his chest. "Let me go."

He didn
't move.

"
I said let me go."

She shoved him hard and he
released her so quickly, she lost her balance and scrambled to correct her footing.

"
Go into the house," he commanded, "I'll be in after I put the horses away."

Picking up her satchel, she
ran toward the house.

John
drove the buckboard to the nearest barn, mentally cursing his behavior. What the hell was he doing? When he'd helped Livy down, he never thought holding her would affect him like that.

He shook his head
.

S
he'd been unsure of him from the moment he'd met her. He'd seen the fear in her eyes every time she looked at him.

He removed the horses
' harnesses.

Damn. Why had he sent for her?

He yank
ed off his hat and ran his hand through his hair.

He k
new why. The children needed a mother.

Sett
ing his hat back on his head, he led the horses into the barn. He brushed them and cleaned their hooves before he led them outside to their pen. He smiled when the horses stomped their hooves and whinnied in anticipation of the fresh hay he was bringing to them.

"
Here you go, boys."

He watched as the horses munched on the food
, his thoughts trailing back to Livy. She was sitting in his house at this very minute, but he couldn't go there yet. What was he supposed to say to her? He wouldn't apologize for his harshness. He felt nothing for her. Never would.

Becky
's face appeared in his mind and his stomach turned at what he'd done.

Hanging his head,
he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Becky."

How would he handle having another woman in his house? Helping with his children? Eating off of Becky's dishes?

"
Ahh, shit."

He
'd battled back and forth for months before he placed the ad in the paper. He thought he'd prepared for this. It wasn't like he jumped at the first reply either. He'd made sure Livy was the right woman for the job. He asked her questions that he now knew she'd lied about. She didn't really know how to cook, but if that was the worst of her deficiencies, he could deal with that.

But something told him it wasn
't.

There was more to
Livy Green he didn't know about. She had sent him references from her boss at the mercantile and the woman who owned the boardinghouse where she stayed. She seemed on the up and up, and he had no reason to doubt she wasn't the perfect candidate.