Free Not the Marrying Kind by Christina Cole Page B

“You can’t possibly succeed, Kat. You
might as well face that fact.”
    There it was again. One more voice speaking
out against her. “You can’t be sure.”
    “Yes, I can. Here, put these on.” Lucille
pulled out a blue gingham dress and an armload of fluffy white
petticoats. She tossed them across the bedroom to Kat. “Do you have
any hair ribbons? What about a hand fan?”
    “A hand fan?” She caught the petticoats and
dress with a groan. “Hell’s bells! If I have to learn to be a lady,
can’t we just start with simple things, please? Like how to walk?
How to sit down?”
    Lucille’s delicately powdered cheeks turned
scarlet. “Your language is shameful, Kat! That’s the first thing
we’ll need to work on, I suppose. You have to learn to control your
tongue. Why, if Reverend Kendrick ever heard you speak so crudely,
I suspect he’d pick you right up, turn you over his knee, and give
you a well-deserved whipping.”
    The thought of Virgil Kendrick laying his
hands on her sent Kat reeling through the room. “He wouldn’t dare!
I swear, Lucille, I’d shoot the man if he ever tried to touch me.”
She dropped the petticoats, grabbed her friend by the arms, and
held on tight. “I’d shoot him dead, and then the law would come
arrest me, and they’d lock me away in some stinking jail cell, and
I’d just wither away there, and oh, don’t you see, Lucille? I can’t
marry that awful man. I can’t!”
    “There, there, calm down.” Somehow Lucille
managed to disentangle herself. She led Kat toward the bench in
front of the dressing table and pushed her to sit. “Have you prayed
about this?” she asked, her expression earnest.
    Kat remembered that moment on the mountain
when she’d lifted her eyes to the hills. She’d asked God for His
help…and He’d given her Joshua Barron. Maybe that, too, had been a
sign.
    Or more likely it was nothing but a
fortunate coincidence.
    Kat bowed her head. “I think this situation
calls for more than prayers, Lucille.”

Chapter Five
     
    Shortly after noon on Friday, Joshua and Kat
stopped alongside the creek. They turned their horses loose to
graze while they sat beneath a willow tree and enjoyed a bite to
eat. In the few days they’d been working together, Joshua had
already gained a healthy dose of respect for Katherine Phillips. He
liked her drive, her determination, her willingness to work hard
for what she wanted.
    But she didn’t stand a chance, and he knew
it.
    “Kat, what happens if you don’t make good on
that contract?” He’d read the anxious look upon her face. A pretty
young gal shouldn’t have to worry about beef contracts, riding the
range, and rounding up longhorns. He knew she meant to prove a
point, but he wasn’t exactly sure what that point was—or why it was
so important to her. Dirk Phillips had told Joshua only what he
figured the man needed to know. Joshua wanted to know more.
    “If I don’t fulfill that contract, trouble
happens, that’s what.” Kat rose, walked a few feet to the creek,
and refilled her canteen. “If the Indians don’t get the beef,
they’re likely to go out and get it on their own. They’ll steal
from the ranchers. And God help anybody who gets in their way.”
    “Yeah, I understand that.” Joshua watched as
she stooped down and dipped the canteen into the water. He liked
what he saw. Nice legs. Nice ass. Cody would be right pleased with
her for a wife. Joshua was sure of it. “What I mean,” he said,
forcing himself to look away, “is what happens to you? What’s going
to happen to the Rocking P when…” He bit his tongue. “I mean, if you fail?”
    She whipped around. “I’m not going to fail,
Mr. Barron.”
    So, they were back to that, were they? Her
formality made him slightly uncomfortable, but he chose not to
force the issue. He’d give her a little more time, let her get to
know him better.
    “What would happen if your father sold the
ranch? I get the feeling you wouldn’t be too