The Cowboy Who Saved Christmas by Jodi Thomas

Author:Jodi Thomas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2021-06-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

1904

Josie

I hadn’t been able to strip out of that dress fast enough.

Yes, it was beautiful and my mother’s, and I felt dreamy in it, and all the things that women are supposed to feel upon dressing up, but that all wore thin in the first hour. Actually, I was pretty much done after the library.

So, after more mortifyingly insulting encounters with benefactors than I ever cared to stomach again, smiling and playing the meek and weak female in need of a big, strong man to save the day, I left. Threw propriety to the wind and begged a waiting carriage man to run me home in the then steady mist. Being that it was so close, and whoever he was waiting for would likely never know—and that I probably looked pathetic—he complied. So, I came home, stripped naked, and climbed into my bed, just like that. Rebellious and improper and everything the ridiculous pompous asses at that party would thumb their noses at.

I’d started out thinking I could talk it up as a business deal. Appeal to these men’s financial prowess. But none of them were interested in anything a woman had to say that involved more than a few introductory words, an anecdote about my father, and silly laughter at whatever inane thing came out of their mouths. I would have had better luck writing it across my chest, where the majority of the fools’ attention was spent anyway. Had I taught my breasts to speak, I could have sealed the deal.

Today was a new day, I told myself as I headed out to check on the herd and make note of some needed fence repairs Malcolm had told me about. He’d given me a list, but I needed to see them for myself. See if costs could be curtailed somehow. He wasn’t physically well enough to do them, so with the lack of other hands now, I’d have to hire it done. I cringed at the thought. Fencing was vitally important, but . . . I was running out of funds. Depending on the severity, I might be able to do it myself. I had helped the guys fix a fence or two when I was young, back when I thought it was fun.

So, I dressed in my daily riding breeches and boots, my favorite lace-trimmed white blouse tucked in, with a duster jacket and my hair in a side braid. The rain was soft, but picking up, and it whipped at my face as Daisy trotted the perimeter of the Lucky B. No corset to hold me together. My hat down low. This was me. This was comfortable and practical, and if no one liked that, they could kiss things I was too polite to say. There were no ranch hands left to maintain appropriateness around, but the jacket was enough cover. I could almost ride completely naked and no one would know. The ranch might be limping right now, but it wasn’t broken completely. Someone with an eye for business—or just the funds for business—could help me get it all back on track.

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