Libby nodded and untied the apron around her waist. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how exhausted she really was.
She didn’t look at Sam as she crossed the room, but she could feel his eyes on her until she disappeared out the door.
Tomorrow would be her first official day. She groaned to think how many more days there would be until this nightmare was over.
* * * *
The first guests arrived just before noon, when a white four-door Subaru SUV pulled up in front of the cabins. The Dunbar family lived in Denver, a three-hour drive away. It was their second year at the ranch, which Sam considered a sign of approval for a job well done.
As a young man, Caleb Dunbar, the father, had nursed a secret yearning to rodeo. Instead, he’d married, taken an accounting job in the city, and had a couple of kids. Though the man was clearly happy and crazy about his family, being at the ranch revived a little of his long-ago dream.
Sam heard the crunch of sneakers on gravel behind him and knew Libby had joined him. The scent of orange blossoms gave her away.
“Libby, this is Caleb and Jenny Dunbar.” A lean, lanky, dark-haired man, and his wife, a petite woman with curly, light brown hair. Sam looked down at the couple’s ten-year-old son and eight-year-old daughter, miniatures of their parents. “These guys are Jordy and Suzy.”
Libby smiled. “Nice to meet you all.”
“Libby will be helping with chores while you’re here,” Sam explained. “She’ll be taking care of Cougar Cabin. If there’s anything you need, just let her know.”
Libby’s features tightened. Housekeeping definitely didn’t appeal to her.
Too bad, Sam thought. Everyone carried their weight at Bridger Ranch.
Sam gave the Dunbars their keys, and the family went to work unloading their gear. Cougar Cabin was the largest, comprised of a living room with a fireplace, a kitchen, two bedrooms, and two baths. There was a queen bed in one room and twin beds in the other.
“We’ll see you at supper,” Sam said.
Caleb gave a wave, and parents and children hurried away.
“Cute kids,” Libby said.
Sam cast her a glance. “You like kids?”
“Sure. But they’re a lot of work.”
“True enough.”
“Animals are a lot less trouble.”
Sam just smiled.
The next guests to check in were a pair of older women, both widows, Alice Weeks and Betty Spurgis. Alice was short and plump, Betty slightly taller and thin. Both had short-cropped, iron-gray hair. They were staying in Badger Cabin, a smaller accommodation. It was their first time on a guest ranch, and both were excited.
Betty glanced around. “Oh, it’s just beautiful here.”
“We think so,” Sam said, his gaze automatically going to the range of mountains surrounding the pastures, rising toward the endless blue skies.
“We’re especially looking forward to the pack trip,” Alice said, following the line of his gaze.
Betty smiled. “I haven’t been on a horse since I was a little girl.” But she was dressed in jeans and boots, ready to go anytime.
“And we get to sleep in a tent,” Alice added excitedly.
The corners of Libby’s pouty lips turned down, and Sam couldn’t stop a grin. “I guess Libby’s not as enthusiastic about the trip as you two are. Maybe she’ll change her mind once she’s up there.”
Betty’s silver eyebrows went up. “You don’t like camping?”
“I don’t really know. I’m from Manhattan.”
“We’re from Phoenix,” Alice said. “The photos on the website look wonderful. We can’t wait to visit the high country.”
“It’s beautiful up there,” Sam said. “You won’t be disappointed.” He helped the women with their luggage, then left them to settle in. Libby caught up with him as he strode toward the barn.
“You didn’t say anything about sleeping in a tent,” she muttered darkly.
“You’re here to work. Guests enjoy different activities. Their days are pretty much their own. Some like to fish; others like hiking or sightseeing. One of the add-ons we offer is a camping trip into the mountains. Guests ride in on horseback. We lead a string of pack mules in with supplies, stay two nights, then ride back out.”
“Do all the guests go on the trip?”
“Not all of them, no.”
“Then I’ll stay here and take care of those who remain behind.”
If she were anyone else, he might let her. But it wasn’t what Marty had wanted, and Marty was paying the bill. “Sorry, that’s not going to happen. I’ll need you to help with the cooking.”
“So Clara’s going on the trip?”
He almost laughed at her hopeful expression. “I do the camp cooking. You’ll just need to pitch in with the meals and help with cleanup.”
“But—”
“But what?” He cast her a glance. “You aren’t afraid of horses, are you?”
“No, but—”
“The weather plays a role. At the moment, it looks like we won’t be going till the end of next week. That’ll give you some time to get used to the idea.”
Libby grumbled something he was glad he couldn’t hear.
At least so far she’d been pleasant to the guests. Still, she wasn’t used to taking orders. He wondered how long her good humor would last.
* * * *
The afternoon passed more quickly than Libby would have guessed. Between visitor check-ins, Sam had given her a tour of the ranch, or at least a portion of the 5,100-acre property he owned.
Along with the cabins, there were two barns—one with a large tack room—an equipment shed, the bunkhouse, and a metal structure that sheltered huge rolled bales of hay stored for winter feed.
“We’re a working cattle ranch,” Sam explained. “That’s our main source of income. Having guests in the summer helps raise a little extra money, but it’s not really what we do.”
According to Sam, along with a thousand head of Black Angus cattle, there were thirty horses, the remuda, he called them. There was also a pigsty and a chicken coop.
Libby paused to watch the black-and-white speckled hens pecking in the yard around the coop.
“Oh, you raise Plymouth Rocks!” she exclaimed. “And look at that beautiful Rhode Island Red rooster.”
Sam’s head swiveled toward her in amazement. “You know chickens?”