He resisted the urge to glance at the pretty redheaded girl who stood off to the side on the porch, fixing his gaze instead on the ranch owner and his dogs.
The man gave him a puzzled look, and Mitchell didn’t blame him one bit. No other fool had ever likely ridden up and offered to work his ranch for free.
“You don’t require pay,” the man repeated Mitchell’s words back to him.
Mitchell swallowed dust. This was, what, his sixth or seventh stop? And not a one was able to pay. So maybe this was the way instead. “That’s what I said. Look, sir—”
“Thomas,” the man interrupted. “Arlen Thomas. This here is my wife’s cousin, Miss Cummings.” He gestured at the young woman Arlen had tried so hard not to stare at. But his eyes found her again now, and she held his gaze in a way most would think was bold, curiosity written all over her face as she clutched a sheath of papers to her stomach with both hands.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Cummings,” he said.
Her face turned nearly as red as her hair and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning, and for a moment he thought he’d work for scraps and a bed in a horse stall just to see her blush like that again.
He dragged his eyes away from Miss Cummings, mentally berating himself. If he was to work here, he doubted he’d be here long if Thomas thought he was paying any sort of questionable attention to his kin.
“I’ve traveled days across this prairie, looking for work. Not a soul has money, and I understand that. All I seek is a bed and three meals a day.” He paused, thinking maybe even that was out of reach for these folks. “Most folks can’t spare a scrap of food these days, and I see you’ve got young ones . . .” He trailed off as two girls clambered up to the porch, the youngest one staring at him as if she’d never seen a stranger before.
It was a hopeless request. No one could take on an extra mouth. He ought to have gone south from Denver instead of north. But what was done was done, and now he’d need to find a place to bed down for the night so he could start again in the morning.
The thought of riding away left him with a hollow sort of feeling as he glanced at the redhead again. She was watching him, not a lick of shyness or embarrassment in her face. She was the most curious woman Mitchell had ever seen, and the thought of not getting to know her hurt almost as much as the hunger pangs gripping his stomach.
“Arlen,” she said. “Perhaps this man could help while Josie prepares for the baby.”
When Mitchell had ridden up, there was a woman with a shotgun—a woman who was clearly expecting.
Thomas nodded, seeming to consider her words. “Might be we can help you out. We have a bunkhouse. And while we don’t have a lot of food, what we’ve got won’t let you go hungry.” He paused. “You sure you’re all right working without pay? Every other hand we had hired on here left because we couldn’t afford to pay them any longer.”
“In other times, I wouldn’t be. But these days are different.”
“All right then. I’ll need to run it by my wife and her brother, but consider yourself hired. Bunkhouse is over there.” Thomas pointed across the yard, out toward the barn, stable, and another building Mitchell assumed was the bunkhouse.
“We’ll have dinner on at six-thirty,” Miss Cummings said, the two girls crowding beside her as Thomas excused himself to head inside the house. “Beef stew with potatoes. No carrots or onions, though, I’m afraid.”
“And pudding, Lara. Don’t forget the pudding,” the older girl said. “I made it myself.” She blushed when she said that, and Mitchell smiled.
“In that case, I’m sure it’s good,” he replied, hoping they wouldn’t hear the grumble of his stomach at the mere mention of food. They could have served dead grass and roasted pinecones, and he’d probably gobble it up as hungry as he was.
“We’ll see you then.” Miss Cummings smiled at him, shifting those curious papers to her side.
“Miss Cummings,” he said just as she turned to go inside after the younger girls. “Thank you. For helping me. I won’t forget it.”
“Of course.” He might have been imagining it, but he thought her cheeks had turned pink again.
“Please tell Mr. Thomas he won’t regret hiring me on.”
She nodded. “I’ll tell him.”
And then she was gone. He stood alone out there in front of the house, the expanse of the ranch stretching for miles around him.
They wouldn’t regret it, Mitchell determined. It wouldn’t be like the other places he’d scared up work in Colorado before he’d landed in Denver. He was alone, and it was high time he accepted it. If he did, he could be at ease here. Far away from Denver and the trouble he’d left back there.
Because no one here in Last Chance, Nebraska knew him.
Mitchell smiled wryly at the thought of the town’s name as he led Trip to the stable.Last Chance. It was fitting, in a way, given how long a stretch he’d gone without work—and without a decent meal.
Yet it felt more like a second chance than a last chance. A second chance to settle in somewhere, to work hard instead of taking the easy way out, to live a respectable sort of life.
He halted Trip just outside the stable to drop his satchel, saddlebags, and blankets in the dusty, brown grass. Trip’s reins loose in his hands, Mitchell paused before leading him inside. He breathed deeply, the dry air filling his lungs as he took in the vastness of the prairie, from the bluffs that rose far off to the south to the road that seemed to go on forever.
