Love on the Range: A Looking Glass Lake Prequel

By Rebecca Nightsong

A plucky city girl. A tough cowboy. Romance in cowboy country.

When a crisis cripples the ranch, stern cowboy Jett Maddox is suddenly promoted to foreman. Just in time for the fall cattle drive. No sweat. Except for the new spitfire cook who is way too soft for wild country.

City-girl Marlee Donovan knows failure. She’s already on her second career, and her family is sure she’ll fail again. But plucky Marlee packs up her chef’s knives and heads west for a cook’s job on a ranch anyway. She’s ready to prove herself.

As Marlee struggles with the hardships of life in the west, Jett finds himself falling for her. And Marlee is drawn to the unexpected soft side of the gruff cowboy.
But when tragedy at the ranch escalates, a difficult decision must be made...and Marlee’s stubborn streak could cost her everything.

Love on the Range is a prequel to the Looking Glass Lake series of contemporary Christian romance.

If you like sweet and clean love stories with quirky characters that get you laughing, then you’ll love Rebecca Nightsong’s world of imperfect people who dare to put their faith and love in action.

Saddle up and enter cowboy country to start this love story today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebecca Nightsong
• Release date: Jul 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310679902

Rebecca Nightsong

Rebecca Nightsong grew up under the wide-open skies of Idaho, where she spent long days in fluffy petticoats and lace, chasing geese and riding goats (since sadly, she had no horses). As a bossy sister in a large family of all boys, she may or may not be guilty of making her 3 year old brother lie down on a hard strip of lumber in the middle of the pasture to take a pretend nap when playing “pioneer families.” Today, Rebecca lives with her husband, who is a constant source of inspiration. She spends her time in her quirky fictional world of Looking Glass Lake, bossing around characters who frequently boss back. You can find her at: www.rebeccanightsong.com

Book preview

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 looked 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