Love on the Range: A Looking Glass Lake Prequel Read online

  Contents

  GET MARLEE’S WEDDING SCENE FOR FREE!

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  GET JETT’S LETTER AND MARLEE’S WEDDING FOR FREE

  DID YOU LIKE THIS BOOK?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  GET MARLEE’S WEDDING SCENE FOR FREE!

  Click Here to get Your free copy of Marlee’s wedding.

  You don’t want to miss the quirky characters of Looking Glass Lake as they celebrate Marlee's wedding in this secret deleted scene.

  Marlee's wedding is so romantic, Fern Aimstock and Crazy Hoss are already working on another matchmaking scheme.

  Who is their target, and who else will find love in Looking Glass Lake?

  Plus, you’ll get a few other special free goodies, too!

  CLICK THE LINK AND CLAIM YOUR FREE SCENE:

  http://rebeccanightsong.com/marlees-wedding/

  THANK YOU FOR READING!

  Rebecca Nightsong

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2016 by Rebecca Nightsong

  Smashword’s Edition

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America by:

  First Printing, 2016

  www.rebeccanightsong.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design provided by Rachel Ault. ([email protected])

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my sweet husband, Kristoph Bartunek, my Moose.

  Moose,

  You are crazy and loving enough to let me quit my day job and write. Your handsome charm and strong but tender character inspire every story I write.

  Thank you for throwing yourself wholeheartedly into this thing called marriage, and for truly living with me in understanding, as God’s Word instructs.

  Thank you for letting me name the Moose Dimple Café after you.

  Thank you for the pep talks when I was tempted to give up…you always knew exactly what to say and do to lift me back up.

  May God reward you many times over for supporting the calling He has given me, and may He give you more joy than you can imagine.

  I love you always,

  Your Maui

  CHAPTER ONE

  Marlee’s eyes hurt from being glued to the window the whole way to Looking Glass Lake.

  She could hardly believe that she, Marlee Donovan, a city-girl from South Carolina, was sitting in an authentic old-west train, chugging toward a new job on an honest-to-goodness ranch.

  Ahhh!

  She stretched against the red crushed velvet upholstery. This train might be over a hundred years old, but it was far more comfortable than those cramped vinyl seats she’d squeezed into during her connecting flights across country.

  Commercial jets boasted speed and efficiency, but the last leg of her journey to Looking Glass Lake was steeped in the genteel luxury of a bygone era.

  What a perfect way to begin her new adventure.

  “We’re about ten minutes away, Miss.” Lester walked down the aisle toward her. With his gray handlebar mustache and green and gold conductor’s uniform, he looked like he’d just stepped out of the pages of a Wild West history book. He took out a pocket watch and flicked open the cover. “Only a few minutes, and you’ll be on to your new job.”

  Excitement skittered up her spine. “I can’t wait.” She laughed. “I wasn’t prepared for how beautiful it is out here.”

  The old man smiled and tucked his pocket watch away.

  “I had friends in culinary school who told me about the west,” Marlee said. “They said it was breathtaking, but I’m not sure that was the best word for it.”

  Lester chuckled. “How would you describe it?”

  “Delicious.” Marlee gazed out the window as the train chewed through a swath of forest and then crested a ridge. She gasped. Below them, a prairie rolled green and gold and deep purple over undulating hills. She itched to grab her knives and slice into the purple and golden plains and the deep blue-green of thick forests.

  “The west is the kind of place that if you ate it, juice would run down your chin,” she murmured.

  The old man patted her shoulder. “That there is the Camas Prairie,” he said. “I always thought it was the purtiest welcome mat any town could have.”

  Prettiest welcome mat.

  Lester’s words rolled through Marlee’s thoughts when she stepped off the train. She squinted her eyes in the sun, and adjusted the knife roll on her back to calm nervous butterflies in her stomach.

  A town like Looking Glass Lake didn’t need a pretty welcome mat. Not when old-west charm oozed out of every corner. She should be taking pictures, but she was too busy gobbling up the scenery of this beautiful mountain town. It seemed almost sacrilegious to stop and mess with the camera on her new phone at a time like this.

  The dusty train station platform was obviously ancient. It still carried the ornate ironwork at the ticket windows. And lining the streets, more old buildings with gingerbread trim and peeling paint greeted her.

  She didn’t know where to look first. Her eyes skipped from one sign to another: Sleeping Dog’s Antique Parlor and Pawnshop, Mustang Sally’s Beauty Salon, and Canyon Sloop Marina.

  Across from the train station crystal blue waters of the lake winked, and next to it, a two-story building lounged slightly crooked, its gnarled log construction looking like something out of a John Wayne movie.

  A wide porch trimmed the building. Rockers lazed next to a few low-slung wooden benches. A large wooden sign above the door read, “Moose Dimple Pharmacy and Café.”

  Marlee grinned. No doubt about it, Looking Glass Lake had “welcome” stamped all over it.

  A little thrill ran up Marlee’s spine as she crossed the street. Lucky for her, the train had arrived early. She’d have enough time to poke around at the café across the way. Maybe meet some locals and see if they carried any fun things like jams or sauces concocted by farmer’s wives.

  A tinkle of bells sang out as she shoved the door open.

  The place seemed quiet enough. It still smelled like bacon from the morning’s cooking. Right now, the only customers were the stuffed teddy bears riding leather saddles across shelves throughout the room.

  The room was divided into a café on one side, and a pharmacy on the other.

  An old man with a bushy gray beard sat behind a cash register on the pharmacy side. He loo
ked her up and down when she walked in.

  “Hi.” Marlee smiled at the man.

  He grinned back, blue eyes nearly disappearing into deep creases. “Girl, you best untuck yer jeans from yore cowboy boots. Folks will think you’re all hat and no cattle.”

  Marlee blinked. “All hat and what?”

  A redhead came out of the kitchen just then. She was a scrawny woman about Marlee’s age. She had on a pair of denim shorts, and an apron that barely hid knobby knees. Her pink t-shirt said “Cowgirls rule.”

  “A woman can always show off cute boots,” the redhead said. She strode across the room, and shook Marlee’s hand. “I’m Annie.”

  The smile Annie gave her was as warm as the smell of blueberry pie floating in from the kitchen.

  “All hat and no cattle,” the old man chimed in. “It means you don’t know what you’re doin’. Means you’re all for show.”

  “Ignore him,” Annie said. “Can I get you some lunch? Or pie?”

  Marlee shook her head. “Someone’s going to pick me up in a few minutes. I wanted to see what kinds of home-made things you might have.”

  Annie hooked her arm through Marlee’s and pulled her toward the pharmacy side of the building. “We sold out of Fern Aimstock’s peach preserves yesterday,” she said. “But there’s some garden produce.”

  The old man walked around the end of the counter and stood next to Marlee. He had a big black umbrella he used as a cane.

  “You must be the new cook at the Paycoach outfit,” he said.

  Marlee nodded.

  “I’m tellin’ ya.” He rocked back on his heels and tapped the tip of his umbrella on the floor for emphasis. “You keep those jeans tucked in, and you’ll look like a goat roper.”

  Annie rolled her eyes. “Meet Crazy Hoss,” she said. “Usually, he’s a lot nicer to visitors.” She glared at the old man, and he glared right back.

  “Nice to meet ya.” Crazy Hoss grinned and tipped his hat to Marlee. Then he turned back to Annie. “I ain’t trying to be ornery,” he insisted. “I’m just givin’ her some advice that might come in handy for her first day on the job.”

  Marlee smiled at Crazy Hoss. Ornery or not, she liked this blustery old man and his soft whiskers. “What’s a goat roper?”

  “A wanna-be cowboy,” Annie said.

  “A faker,” Crazy Hoss corrected.

  Marlee’s cheeks burned. Marlee Donovan wasn’t a wanna-be anything. “I’m a chef. A professional chef.” She straightened her shoulders. “I earned my diploma a few months ago.”

  She’d barely scraped by. But they didn’t need to know that.

  She looked down at her feet. “I only bought the boots because I thought they were cute.”

  Crazy Hoss shook his head and a tsking sound came out of his beard as he headed back to his register.

  “He’s been in a bad mood all day because he volunteered to help with a cattle drive, and everyone in town has been telling him he’s too old for it,” Annie explained.

  “Oh.” Marlee relaxed. “I’m no cattle drive expert, but you seem in fine shape to me,” she said firmly, meeting his twinkly gaze.

  “Fit as a fiddle.” He settled back onto his stool.

  Marlee nodded at him before turning back to the vegetables. She knew something about how painful it was when people didn’t believe in her abilities.

  There wasn’t as much variety as she’d have found in a city grocery. But everything was high-quality and had clearly come from well-tended gardens. There were bushel baskets of garden green beans, apples, peppers, spinach, tomatoes, and even a few cabbage heads.

  Annie polished an apple with the edge of her apron, and then nestled it back in with the others. “We don’t have a grocery store, but we will when the new resort opens. I hope they’ll carry mangoes and papaya, too. I’ve been dying to make a good fruit salsa.”

  Marlee’s new job was really a working interview. If she made the cut, she could stay in this tiny town. Already, she could imagine spending time with Annie after a shift at the ranch, pouring over new recipes, and concocting fun menus together.

  But right now, she had to focus on making sure she didn’t show up at her working job interview empty-handed.

  She bit her lip and did some quick math, figuring poundage and prices. She thought about how much money she had left. She’d searched for a job all summer but had found nothing until this opportunity came up. She was down to her last few dollars. She’d have to be careful how much she bought.

  Maybe it would be safer to buy nothing. But Marlee couldn’t resist the call of those beautiful juicy-looking apples, or the way the rich smell of soil and green goodness clung to the spinach, green beans and peppers. Even the tomatoes seemed to hold sunlight under their thin skins.

  “Get as much as you like,” Crazy Hoss said from his perch near the register. “I’ll deliver ‘em for ya. I’m headed out to the Paycoach ranch in a few minutes anyway.”

  She couldn’t pass up that offer. Besides, she really should bring good produce with her. Who knows what the ranch had. Some chefs wouldn’t care. Some chefs didn’t pay much attention to the quality of their ingredients.

  She might not have done well on the written tests in culinary school, but she knew how to pick good ingredients.

  Her hands shook as she selected the perfect apples, and then scrutinized cabbage, beans and spinach.

  This new job had to go well. She had to get this position.

  Because going back home would never work.

  Not when it would mean moving back into Mom and Dad’s basement.

  Nope.

  This time, failure was not an option for Marlee Donovan.

  * * *

  Back at the train station, an impossibly tall cowboy leaned against a post, his long legs crossed, hat slouched over his eyes.

  Marlee tip-toed when she got to the platform. She stopped, and fished for her phone. If he’d nap for a few moments longer, she could snap a picture. Send it back to Tanya. Her roommate would get more than a few giggles at the sight of this authentic cowpoke.

  As soon as she held up her phone, he uncrossed his legs, tipped his hat back, and pinned her with black eyes.

  She’d never seen lazy melt off a man so fast.

  She froze, breath corralled in her chest.

  Caught in the act.

  And he didn’t look happy at all that she’d been about to turn his lazy nap into a permanent image.

  She forced a shaky grin.

  Way to go, Marlee.

  Less than an hour in this town, and she’d already scored two embarrassing moments. She cleared her throat. “I’ve never seen a real cowboy before.”

  “You’re late.” He stared at her with hard black eyes, mouth set tight, as if somebody had skewered the corners.

  “Oh—” She gulped. So he was her ride. They’d sent a rude cowpoke to pick her up. She jammed her phone back into her jeans and raised her chin. “It’s not my fault. The planes aren’t flying into Looking Glass Lake today, for some reason. My flight was canceled, so I had to take a historic steam train for tourists.”

  He looked at her, eyes unblinking.

  Her neck heated, and she tossed her hair. “It’s no big deal,” she said. “You caught a few z’s in the shade, so what’s the problem?”

  He crossed his arms and shifted his stance. Wider, if that were possible.

  She swallowed. She refused to be intimidated by a hired hand. “And anyway,” she said. “I’m not late. The train was early, so I stopped for produce.”

  Still, he said nothing. He swiped shaggy black hair off his forehead before jamming his hat back on.

  She’d never seen eyes so dark. Black as night, even in the glint of mid-day sun.

  “Besides, it might be wise to treat the new ranch chef with a little respect,” she said, her words coming fast.

  She crossed her arms and arched her brows. Best to show him right now that Marlee Eileen Donovan was no pushover. “I could make every
meal for the next six months a misery for you.”

  His cheek muscle twitched.

  Maybe this cowboy had a small sense of humor.

  “In fact…” She mustered her most charming southern belle smile. She frosted it with the kind of fake sweetness only a real southern girl could whip up. “I could make nearly every meal talk back to you for hours. Since you need to brush up on your conversational skills.”

  Something flashed in his dark eyes. A single dimple surfaced on his left cheek and then vanished.

  Marlee blinked. Was that a smile?

  Before she could decide, he stuck out his hand.

  “Jett Maddox,” he said.

  His rough hand closed over hers, and he pumped it once in a quick and efficient shake.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A zing went through Marlee’s arm as Jett’s large hand engulfed hers. She wasn’t a weakling. She logged plenty of time in the gym, and had always considered herself stronger than most women.

  But in his hand, her bones felt as delicate as sugar lace. She shivered. She pulled her hand away quickly and then hitched up the knife roll slung across her back.

  Jett didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. He jerked his thumb toward a battered and dusty old pickup truck. “Saddle up.”

  Then, without waiting for her to introduce herself, he grabbed her suitcases and turned on his heel.

  He lifted them like marshmallows, two in each hand.

  Early that morning, those suitcases had given her a fierce backache, dragging them from the car to airport. But he swung them easily, the handles of each bag crammed into his beefy hands, and the bottoms of them splayed out. He had to hold them far away from his body so they wouldn’t bash into his bow-legged stride.

  In the movies, cowboys were terse. So maybe he wasn’t rude. Maybe he was just terse. She had expected to like terse better than she actually did. Terse was uncomfortable. Terse meant she had more time to notice small things, like the way his muscles moved in his forearms where he’d rolled up his sleeves. And how the tiny lines near his eyes were etched, white against sun-bronzed skin. He’d spent so many hours outside, even his hat couldn’t beat the sun all of the time.