Not the Marrying Kind by Christina Cole Read Free Book Online

gelding toward the corral, she kept
her eyes on the man. When he walked, she noticed, he favored his
left leg. She stood silently, watching him limp across the grassy
yard toward her father, and the last of her fleeting hopes flitted
away.
    Even if Pa were looking for a foreman—which
he wasn’t—he’d never hire Joshua Barron. Ranching required strength
and stamina, quickness and coordination. Despite his powerful
muscles and broad shoulders, this man would be a liability, not an
asset, on the range.
    Kat ran a hand over the bay’s black mane and
let out a long sigh.
     
    * * * *
     
    Joshua followed as Mr. Phillips led him into
the house then ushered him into a small, dark-paneled room with
heavy furnishings and a desk strewn with papers. Instinctively
Joshua drew back. He didn’t like cramped, confined spaces. Already
the walls seemed to be closing in on him.
    “Have a seat,” Phillips directed. “You come
to see about buying this place?”
    Joshua settled himself into a comfortable
chair, grateful for the opportunity to stretch his leg out. He
leaned back. “It’s for sale?”
    The older man grunted. “Time for me to move
on, Mr. Barron. By the way, you’ll have to forgive my daughter.
She’s a bit blunt at times.”
    Joshua gave a slight nod. To his way of
thinking, forgiveness should be reserved for those who’d done
wrong. He didn’t see where Katherine Phillips had committed any
grievous sins. She’d spoken the truth about Cody. He was a crazy
coot.
    Dirk Phillips opened a humidor and pulled
out a cigar. He glanced toward Joshua. “Care for a smoke?” He
handed one to him, then took out another and smiled. “Wife of mine
doesn’t care much for these, doesn’t want me enjoying them. Thinks
they’re bad for me.” He chuckled. “You know how women can be once
they get an idea in their heads.” He struck a match, lit both his
cigar and Joshua’s, then puffed out huge wreaths of thick, gray
smoke. “Like my daughter,” he went on, “thinking she needs to run
this place for me.”
    “Where in hell would she get a damned fool
idea like that?” Joshua hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until his
host gave him a sharp look.
    “I don’t condone cursing, Mr. Barron.”
    “Sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect by it,
sir. It’s just that where I come from, well, folks weren’t always
the most civilized.” He shut his mouth and wished he’d never made
any mention of his past. No need to invite unwanted questions.
    The other man’s face suddenly turned red. He
coughed violently, slumping forward in his chair.
    Joshua reacted at once. Despite the pain
shooting through his leg, he rushed toward his host, grabbed the
cigar away from the man, and stubbed it out in a well-used ashtray
on the desk.
    “I think maybe your wife’s got a point,
sir.” For good measure, he extinguished his cigar as well.
    Thankfully, the man’s face quickly returned
to its normal color. The coughing fit eased, and he sat upright
again. “Maybe so. Hard to admit sometimes when she’s right.” He
laughed. “Now as for Katherine, to answer your question, she’s a
good girl. She’s got a bit of a stubborn streak though. Gets it
from me, I suppose.” He glanced toward the ashtray with a longing
look, then turned to Joshua again. “She was real close to her older
brother. Followed him around, wanted to be just like him. I thought
it was a bit cute when she was little.” As he spoke, he reached for
a thick book. The family Bible, Joshua reckoned, as the man opened
it and turned to an ornately illustrated family tree. He ran his
fingers down the page and stopped at the name of Robert James
Phillips. “Born 1850. Died 1868.”
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Phillips.” Should he say
more? Sensing the man needed to talk about his son’s death, Joshua
pressed on. “How did it happen?”
    “Drowned. Down in the old creek north of
here.”
    “I know the creek.” He crossed it coming and
going to and from the Rocking P