Free No Place for a Lady by Maggie Brendan Page B

ride home and watched as he headed back down the trail and
away from the house.
    Crystal turned to climb the porch steps. The lazy afternoon
was so quiet that she almost didn't notice the figure leaning back
in a chair at the end of the porch, boots propped up on the railing. It was Luke. She could tell that he was feigning sleep, his hat
covering his face to keep the flies away. Suddenly he dropped his
boots to the floor with a loud plop and stretched his long form
upright. The noise startled Crystal, and she paused, looking down
the long porch at him.
    "He sure don't appear to be your type," he said.
    She bristled. "And just what is my type?"
    "Maybe one short enough to fit under that hat perched on your
head in case of a summer rainstorm."
    She flashed him a saucy smile. "I'll have you know, this hat is
the height of fashion"
    "Whose fashion?"

    "You've been stuck out in this wild territory so long that you
wouldn't know fashion if it hit you in the face:"
    Luke's laughter reverberated in the late afternoon stillness. "Out
here, fashion won't put a roof over your head, feed you, or clothe
you. All I need is a good meal, a warm bed, and a loyal horse."
    `And likely that's all you'll ever get." She tore off her gloves and
opened the door, slamming it behind her. Crystal heard a loud rip
and realized too late that she had shut the door on her dress. She
turned back and yanked her torn dress free, exasperated.
    Luke settled back down in the big rocker and once again pulled
his hat back over his face. Ah, poor sweet thing! She tries hard to
be tough. In spite of her ridiculous hats, the hot sun had painted
a pink tinge across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, making her look even more appealing. She needed to find a man who
could afford servants to attend to her. She was small and delicate,
and ranch life would never suit her.
    He sighed wearily and leaned back in the rocker, and he was
soon dozing to the distant sound of a Steller's jay.

     

,7
    Blistering July heat settled onto the Yampa Valley, and by midafternoon, hazy vapors rose from the parched, cracked ground that
had resulted from weeks without rain. Chores had been completed
before the noonday meal. Men and women alike retired to the
nearest shade tree or porch until late afternoon, when cooler air
descended from the mountains. The rusty thermometer outside
the bunkhouse registered 100 degrees in the shade. The drovers
dragged their bedrolls outside the cramped bunkhouse to sleep
under a blanket of stars in the cool, fresh air.
    After four days of the miserable heat, and despite Rusty's warning that rain might follow, Kate and Crystal began their drive into
Steamboat on a bright, cloudless day. They had promised Rusty
that they would be back before dark, and now the creaking wagon
rumbled away from the ranch house at first light in the morning,
while it was still cool.
    Crystal dressed in a light cotton dress, for once without her
corset because of the heat, and Kate was in her usual garb of men's
pants, sturdy boots, and a wide-brimmed hat. Crystal had become
accustomed to getting up early and helping Carmen with morning chores. She found that she enjoyed rising once the rooster crowed.
There was a special quietness about early morning that she had
never known existed. She savored sharing her first cup of coffee
with Carmen and Kate out on the back porch, before the crew
stomped in for breakfast. Crystal was fast fitting into their way
of life without even being conscious of it.

    As the two approached the edge of town, shopkeepers, already
busy with morning activities, propped open their doors to enjoy
the morning breeze. In the distance, smoke curled lazily upward
from the slanted roof of Flo's Cafe. Crystal guessed that Flo had
been up for hours preparing today's menu. Smells of frying bacon
wafted on the air, assaulting their nostrils and whetting Crystal's
appetite. A piano tune sounded from the swinging doors