White Feather Rock

By Mary Jane Mayo

1876
Hollis Debrot, a strikingly handsome man who could turn any woman’s head, even after a three-month cattle drive, returns to his beloved Colorado ranch with a mangy beard coated in grime and a body odor that could empty a room of parlor maids. A hot bath, a soft bed, and solitude is essential, but his baby brother, Andy, who just graduated from college, has invited a meddling and distractedly tempting, young woman to live in their house.

Miriam McIntyre had a first-class education, refined manners, stunning blue eyes, and her family name meant something in Baltimore’s blue-blooded society. With that said, she was a miserable failure because instead of tending to a husband’s needs and raising babies, she was traveling to San Francisco for - dare she say it - for a job! But when her train is robbed and the conductor murdered, Miriam knows it is her duty to help catch the killer.

Miriam learns quickly that a dusty cattle ranch is far different from the sidewalks of Baltimore. Bigger sky. Bigger mountains. Bigger men! Even though Hollis appears coarse and unmannerly, Miriam recognizes the signs of a true gentleman underneath his Stetson and spurs. While a killer lurks nearby, Miriam and Hollis become hopelessly entangled – in and out of bed.

Hollis wonders if there is a future for a rough cow hand and a beautiful lady.
Miriam wonders if there is a future for a lonely woman and a handsome rancher.

The answer awaits at White Feather Rock.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Jane Mayo
• Release date: Jul 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310942891

Mary Jane Mayo

Mary Jane Mayo is from Maryland and enjoys the rich history associated with this mid-Atlantic state. She has been recognized by the Maryland Writer's Association and has participated in writer's workshops at the Johns Hopkins University.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Debrot Ranch

South of Denver Colorado

May 1876

Hollis Debrot planted two dirty boots on the kitchen floor and sighed. Home! He tossed his Stetson on the table and cringed when the rare sound of broken china greeted his return.

What the devil! Some danged fool had put a vase of flowers on the table right where his hat belonged. After eight weeks on the trail eating the dust of two thousand Texas Longhorns, Hollis ached in every muscle and bone of his body. He needed a hot meal, a hot bath, and a soft bed—in that order. Andy Debrot, he hollered in the empty room, you got explaining to do! Where was his little brother? After graduating from that highbrow eastern school, it was time for him to man up. Get your ass in here pronto! This water puddle ain’t getting any smaller!

Hollis braced his legs and studied the strewn bouquet. More like a passel of weeds? He crossed the floor, stepped in the puddle and left tracks of smelly cattle mud in his wake. His handsome face settled in a scowl. Where were the leather strips for mending his extra pair of boots, his work gloves, his chaps? All missing. And the damn table was cluttered with napkins and plates and too many eatin tools.

The kitchen gave him cold chills, like walking into one of those tight-assed ladies’ tearooms.

Oh, hell. He sniffed again. Lemon polish!

I made it clear that you people, Hollis spun around toward the feminine voice. She was maybe twenty, or a little older. Her hair was set in a plain single braid. She must a got her outfit from a church rag sack for her gingham dress was two sizes too big in bright yellow, too strong for her fair complexion.

. . . are forbidden to enter the house wearing your dirty boots.

The thing that got his gut was the lean look in her eyes, like she judged him and found him lacking.

Hollis hitched up his pants. You people?

She placed her hands on her hips in defiance, but it only tightened the saggy gown to show off a slim, shapely figure. Too bad her frown could stop a herd of cattle.

Miriam McIntyre, age 24, had a first-class education, refined manners, stunning blue eyes, and a family name that meant something in Baltimore society. She waved her hand. You know to whom I refer. You cowhands and your dirt. In the five days Miriam had been at Debrot Ranch, she had done her best to make it a comfortable home. It was the least she could do to thank Mr. Andy for his kindness.

The large cowboy did not move, but Miriam knew how to deal with an insolent servant. Your dirty boots have ruined my clean floors. I shall report this to Mr. Debrot.

Hollis crossed his arms. You just did.

Miriam handed the cowhand a mop, recalling Mr. Hornby, the train conductor who assumed the role of protector for a lady traveling cross-country alone. He warned her, beware of the cattle men, Miss McIntyre. They are a bad breed who drink, gamble and lie. A young lady must avoid them at all costs.

Everyone must abide by the new rules. There are no exceptions. Your employer’s home is off limits. Andy Debrot was a generous gentleman who her offered sanctuary, but he was far too lax managing his estate, Miriam thought.

Hollis stared at the mop in his hand as if it were a rattler. He snatched it and heaved it against the wall. The deadly thwack made Miriam jump. No wonder men beat their women, he glared. You, little miss, are pure trouble. Good thing he was a gentleman. He wouldn’t touch her pretty face, but he would surely kick that shapely behind out of his house.

Miriam picked up the Stetson. Here’s your hat and there’s the door. Her eyes burned with rage. She was meant to be in San Francisco, a sophisticated city with museums and theaters, not scrubbing floors on a dusty cattle ranch. But then Mr. Hornby was murdered. Miriam took a jagged breath. A train robbery. She still had nightmares. No! She would not cry. She would bring Mr. Hornby’s killer to justice, even if it meant wearing borrowed clothes and dealing with insolent cowboys.

Derned if she didn’t have red streaks of color in her hair. Hollis’s eyes lifted. He had a soft spot for red heads, and auburn seemed plenty nice. Too bad it was wrapped up in a braid. He imagined loosening the thick curls and letting her hair hang free in full glory. He wondered if it would reach her bare backside. Good Lord. It’d been too damn long since he’d seen a woman’s delicious backside. His bodied reacted. Damn. Too many lonely nights on the trail.

Hollis cleared his throat and made for the dining room. Miriam’s nose wrinkled at his sour body odor. She wondered if there were critters living in his matted beard. She scooted in front of him and blocked the doorway. You may wait for Mr. Debrot on the porch.

His brain twisted, so he closed his eyes and wished the crazy woman out of his home. When he blinked open, she was still there, with a hankie covering her nose.

Hollis straightened his shoulders. His face turned hard. Miriam flinched. There was something about him beyond the ordinary cowhand. He was tall, with broad shoulders and powerful arms. He radiated power, much like the generals of the war she met in her father’s office: Generals Meade, McClellan, and Grant. Each exuded unyielding strength and power to direct a battle and cause death. But behind their splendid uniforms was sadness. The strange man soiling her kitchen projected the same blend of passions. Abundant determination and grave disappointment. It made her spine tingle in a funny way.

Sir, I insist that you remove yourself from this house.

Slapping his hat against his muscular thigh, Hollis sprayed a layer of dust that covered the polished stove.

That was very foolish of you, sir.

I made my point.

She thrust her chin. You shall repent when I tell Mr. Debrot about your salacious conduct.

She sure could kick a string of dusty words together, but he got the drift. Hollis scratched his head. Who did you say you were?

Whom, Miriam corrected.

An even disposition was essential in the rough and dangerous life on the trail, but this obnoxious female could rattle a saint, and Hollis was no saint. Listen little miss, this is my house, and beings as I am tired and just off the trail, I don’t need to hang around like a calf sucking on a cow’s tit, and I sure as hell don’t want to hear your high and mighty attitude.

Miriam’s eye twitched. Who did you say owns this house?

Whom, Hollis corrected with an annoying smile.

Miriam imagined using one of her tatting needles to spear the private area of his anatomy. His agonizing cry would be delightful. But she didn’t have her tatting needles. Indeed, she didn’t have much of anything—except the courage to catch a killer.

CHAPTER 2

Hollis! Welcome home! Andy Debrot slammed the kitchen door and crossed the room in three loping strides. He had lean muscles, thick brown hair, and a smile like a gold mine. While his older brother was considered a hard man, Andy still had a shadow of lingering innocence. The brothers hugged. It’s wonderful to see you, Hollis. You must be tired. Want something to eat? How was the drive? Did you get a good rate for the herd? Cigar’s getting a rubdown and extra oats.

Slow down there, Andy. Hollis built his ranch with sheer stubbornness and the help of a hungry nation wanting beef. He worked under the scalding sun, fought the wind and rain, endured the threat of rustlers and snakes, and suffered sleepless nights when the loans were due, all done with Andy in mind. His baby brother was the clever one. Book-smart and visionary, Andy would take the ranching operations to the next level.

Mr. Debrot. Miriam waved her arms to catch Andy’s attention. Please tell your friend he cannot come inside this house without a good scrubbing?

Hollis thrust his trigger finger into Andy’s bewildered face. You’ve got five seconds to run that piece of female fluff outta here before I toss her caboose out the door myself.

Andy cleared his throat and offered an egg-sucking grin. Hollis, you misunderstand the situation. Miss McIntyre is not my … she’s our new housekeeper, he blurted.

What? Hollis and Miriam cried in harmony.

Andy whispered in Miriam’s ear. Trust me. He turned to Hollis with a broad smile. Miss McIntyre, I want you to meet my brother, Hollis Debrot. Owner of this fine house and all the ranching business. He’s been away for months driving cattle. Today is his first day back.

Your brother! Miriam gulped. Her mind stumbled for understanding. How could they be brothers? Andy had excellent manners. His brother was vulgar.

Andy took care with his grooming, wearing crisp shirts and clean canvas pants, unlike the dust bowl beside him.

Andy graduated from Yale, for goodness sakes! This Hollis person was undoubtedly illiterate.

Andy rescued her from the streets of Denver City while his brother wanted her out of the house.

Most importantly, she trusted Andy, but his brother’s green eyes ogled her as if she were a dance hall girl.

Hollis smirked watching her face turn three shades of red. He caught his little brother in a love nest. This soiled dove was due a comeuppance.

Miriam swallowed hard. How do you do, Mr. Debrot. Her mind clicked as the clues fell into place. Andrew was ambivalent about decisions and lacked passion for the ranch, yet the workers remained vigorous and committed. Now she understood: they were preparing for the master’s return. This grubby oaf marring her spotless floors was the true source of power behind the estate and its two dozen hands, thousands of acres, and new mansion.

A housekeeper, huh? Hollis had a shady look in his eyes. Well, Miss McIntyre, do your duty. I’ll have a bath in my room.

Miriam stood open-mouthed.

Hollis impatiently slapped her rump. Get a wiggle on, girl!

CHAPTER 3

The cooking range offered a temperature-regulated oven and a fancy wood stove, a luxury item even for a fashionable Baltimore townhouse. Miriam knew it would take seven trips up the narrow back stairs to fill the tin tub. When Andy brought her to Debrot a week ago, she was a battered woman, unrecognizable in filthy clothing, her hair in knots, and grit cloaking her skin. But at least she was alive after escaping her kidnappers. Her desolate ride through the wilderness was harrowing, and a hot bath did much to make her feel human again.

Believe me Miriam, Andy explained, if Hollis knew the truth about you, he would have one of the hands drive you back to Denver tonight.

But a housekeeper? Miriam’s blue eyes glittered with anger. I am not of the servant class!

My brother likes his privacy. We’ve never hosted any type of guest. Andy gave a half-smile. He will put you in the finest hotel and pay the bill just to get you out of his hair.

Miriam smiled. That is most suitable.

Andy frowned. Not when your life is in danger. When Andy questioned the shabby woman lurking in the shadows of a Denver side street, he knew as soon as she spoke that she was a gentlewoman fallen on hard times. He offered his protection. The men who robbed the train took you because you witnessed Mr. Hornby’s murder. It’s a miracle you escaped and made it back to civilization, but that doesn’t make you safe. That man, the killer, is out there looking for you. Every hand here carries a gun, and we can keep you safe.

But we are misleading your brother, Miriam said, and I dislike deception.

As soon as Sheriff Monroe returns from the mountains, his wife will give him your note. Monroe is a good man. He will waste no time riding here and once you give him a description of the killer, your duty is done. Andy gave a rueful smile. A housekeeper for a day or two won’t be so bad. You’ll see.

Miriam learned to decorate a piecrust with a delicate French bow coveted at the charity fundraisers. When her step-mother, Sarah, cut back on the household staff, Miriam accepted the dusting and cleaning duties. She even supplied the linen closet with freshly ironed pillowcases and sheets. It was mindless work, and she filled the time with wonderful memories of her father, how he taught her to play the piano, taught her to analyze business stocks, taught her that courage was mastering one’s fear. But this was different. Being humble to that blockhead brother went against her beliefs.

She was a skilled bookkeeper, yet Sarah—and the rest of society thought Miriam should tend to a husband’s needs and raise babies. Sarah, and the local minister, chose an old, feeble, but rich husband for her. Miriam reacted with the shocking decision to move to San Francisco where her bookkeeping skills were in demand.

I didn’t expect Hollis for another week. Andy rubbed his mustache, an affectation he gained in college. But since you make the best custard pie I have ever tasted, and my big brother has a sweet tooth as large as Pikes Peak, you will soon be in his good graces. He grinned. And we need to keep Hollis in a good mood until the sheriff arrives.

CHAPTER 4

Hollis hired a local architect from Colorado Springs to design his Greek Revival home. Three stories of solid German siding is a wondrous sight in a primitive landscape of wobbly shacks and simple log cabins. The front door opened into an impressive hallway. To one side was a double parlor and opposite was the dining room and library. Upstairs had six bedrooms. The room with a magnificent view of the mountains belonged to Hollis. He told the designer he wanted twenty-foot ceilings, four feet higher than planned, because anything lower made him feel like a cornered bobcat.

When she first arrived, Miriam wandered the beautiful rooms, her footsteps echoing a sad story of neglect. Two bedrooms had rickety cots with trunks for night stands and cracked wall mirrors. The other rooms were empty. What sort of man builds a lovely home and abandons it?

With a bucket of hot water in each hand, Miriam trudged up the backstairs. She used her hip to push open the bedroom door. The beast watched her struggle with the weight.

Slide the oilcloth under the tub so you don’t ruin my new floors.

Miriam flinched. A housekeeper, indeed! But the ranch offered food, shelter, and safety and she was desperate. It wasn’t as if the gang of thieves offered to collect her belongings from the baggage car before taking her hostage. All of her cash was taken. Miriam suppressed a shudder. Best not to think about those horrible men.

Are you deaf?

Miriam jumped.

Hell, I’ll do it myself. Hollis emptied one of the buckets of water into his wash bowl. While he snipped at his beard with scissors, Miriam collected the few garments of borrowed clothing and bundled them into a ball. She had slept in this cot. It was the view of the mountains that seduced her. She could not bear him knowing they shared the same taste for natural beauty.

What have you got there? he eyed the bundle in her arms through the mirror.

I was going to change the bed linens, she lied.

Don’t bother. Just keep bringing me hot water.

On her second trip, Hollis had stripped down to his waist. Positively rude to disrobe though she couldn’t help but notice his corded muscles glistening in the afternoon sunlight.

Look alive, woman! A three-legged dog moves faster than you. Hollis snipped his beard.

That’s a lame comparison.

Hah! you got yourself a smart mouth. Well, just remember I’m the one paying your wages, so you better hoof it because I like my water hot.

Miriam slammed the door. Deep laughter followed her down the stairwell.

Three more trips up the stairs with heavy buckets tested Miriam’s tolerance. She kicked open the door. As if on cue, Hollis turned toward her. Miriam stopped in her tracks. Without his beard, she did not recognize him. He had a noble forehead, a graceful nose, and a strong chin. Sunshine streaked his mink brown hair with golden flecks. He had sinful dark lashes framing green eyes the color of a stormy sea. The man was divinely handsome. Unfairly handsome.

Come here. Hollis sat on the edge of the cot. I need help with my boots. I sure hope you’re stronger than you look.

The challenge in his eyes was a test to break her. Not likely! The daughter of Colonel McIntyre was not raised to be feeble. She emptied the buckets and took his raised boot heel in both hands.

Well?

She pulled with all her might.

I thought so, Hollis sniffed. Weak as a wet noodle. Turn around.

I beg your pardon? Her nostrils flared.

Deaf too. Hollis roped his hands around her waist and spun her in a half circle. Her rear was in his face. Now straddle me.

I will do no such thing. You cannot expect me to—

He shoved his boot between her calves. Grab on and pull!

This time, the boot slipped from his foot. Oh dear! She waved away the awful smell.

It is a little rank, he admitted.

And the whale is a little fish.

Is that what passes for humor back East?

Sir, there is nothing amusing about this odor!

Sorry you feel that way because I got two feet, in case you hadn’t noticed.

The second boot was more stubborn. He settled his hands on the side of her hips.

Mr. Debrot, remove your hands from my . . . er, what you are holding onto.

Gotta find a wide spot to brace myself, he said mildly.

A wide spot indeed! The almighty fury of womanhood yanked on the stubborn boot, hoping to break a few toes in the process. When the boot popped free, he finally released his hold on her. Miriam gloated in victory though the pleasant tingling in her spine disappeared.

CHAPTER 5

Miriam cursed under her breath. The man was a water hog! She cursed the west. She cursed Colorado. She cursed the Debrot brothers and every stinking cowhand ever born. When she reached the bedroom, the shirtless brute passed behind her and shut the door. She emptied a bucket and turned to say something spiteful about drowning in a bathing tub, but her mind went blank.

Time stopped.

At Miss Lillian Chandler’s expensive finishing school, the senior girls huddled in a corner of the library to study the art history books. The ancient paintings and