Page 21 of The Outlaw and the Heir

"I don't do that."

"Lay down your worries and woes?"

"I...go to the saloon. Or anything like that."

"Damn, do you haveanyfun?"

"You don't have to drink to have fun."

"Sure doesn't hurt...and you don't even drink? What do you do in your spare time? Sit in that big house and stare at the ceiling while brooding at how annoying the world is?"

"I don't stay in the house," he said, pushing his bowl away. "I have my own cabin near the worker's cabins. That's where Bear and I have stayed for years now. The rest of my family stays in the house. It's been like that ever since my father put me...since he basically put me in charge of some things."

Interesting, I would never have figured that out on my own, at least not with what I’d been allowed to see so far. It hadn't occurred to me that Ambrose might be keeping everything he could about himself wrapped up tight from us. Not that I was necessarily surprised, he didn't trust me as far as he could throw me, which, after working on the ranch long enough, he could probably throw me a surprising distance if he was really feeling up to it.

More interesting than whatever he tried to keep from us was that he had that nice big house to sleep in and chose...a cabin? A worker's cabin? Admittedly, from what I'd seen of those cabins, they were similar to ours, solidly built, and had beds that didn't feel like you were sleeping on stone. But even if I hadn't laid eyes on the main house's interior, I would bet a good chunk of the money I’d stowed all over the place that it was far nicer than anything the workers would ever know.

So, all that self-righteousness Ambrose was chock full of wasn't just overcompensation and hypocrisy. He was noble and honorable. Or he was doing a really good impression of someone who was and was extremely dedicated. The latter would have been the sort of thing I’d come to expect, and the first...well, if there was anything more terrifying than a vicious lawbreaker, it was a well-meaning and genuinely honest good man.

The thought was unnerving, and I didn't have an immediate answer. He hadn't technically answered my question, but Ididn't think he even realized as he stared into the distance thoughtfully.

"Good with their hands, eh?" he finally said, glancing at me.

"In different ways, but yeah," I said, raising a brow. "Why?"

"Because it's pointless to waste good skills like that on something like shoveling shit or cleaning out stalls," he said with a snort.

"I...and what about me?"

"What about you? You haven't proven anything to me other than you pay attention, have a smart mouth, and a quick mind. That just means you need extra watching as far as I'm concerned," he said, pushing away from the table. "I'll figure out what I can do with them. And you? You're going to stay right where I can see you at all times."

"You know, this isn't the first time someone wanted to watch me so intensely. But the last person at least had the decency to offer me money for the show," I said, raising a brow even as I felt the sting of his dismissal of...well, me.

I hadn't beentryingto get a reaction out of him, but I watched as his eyes widened slightly, color rising in his cheeks before he jerked his head away. It made the skin of his neck go taut, and I could see the way he swallowed hard, not once, but twice. Then he cleared his throat and pushed to his feet, reaching up to adjust his hat, which was sitting perfectly fine on his head.

My eyes widened before I could stop them, and he glanced at me to see the surprise on my face. He stared at me for a moment with a blank, slightly confused expression before giving another harsh clear of his throat.

"Get to finishing up," he huffed at me. "Then get ready. You've got more work to do."

It was said with the same air of authority as always but lacked the forcefulness it normally had, almost like he was pushing himself to sound that way. He strode away to return his bowl,shoulders hunched and his head slightly down, probably trying to avoid eye contact with anyone as he stalked away from me.

As much as I prided myself on being able to read and predict people, I couldn't help but feel a shiver of remaining shock run through me as I stared at his retreating back. That wasnotthe reaction of a man who was offended or horrified by the implications of my words. If I wasn't delusional from long hours in the heat, working harder than I had since I was a teenager, then that had been the reaction of someone disturbed by the implication...disturbed and...interested.

Well, wasn't that an interesting development?

AMBROSE

"They do somethin' different with the food?" I overheard one of the men ask as they walked back toward the worker cabins.

"Yeah, made it taste better," the other chuckled as they walked steadily, a little slow from the day's work but still strong.

I was glad no one was paying attention as I watched them walk off, feeling my nose wrinkle in annoyance. It seemed that two things were true: the men did, in fact, need better food to enjoy because their moods had already lifted in the past week. And it also seemed that putting a certainsomeonein a position where he could provide knowledge had turned out to be the right choice.

Which meant that same certain someone had been right about the first thing and was the right choice for the second. Which was double the reason for him being smug and sure of himself. That only added to my troubles because he’d come to the ranch already full of himself.

It sure as hell didn't help that his two friends were also exactly what he’d assessed them to be. The loud one had turned out to be damn good with his hands, and it was positively wasteful to have someone like him doing basic manual work when his skills could be applied elsewhere. It might have onlybeen a week sincehepointed out the loud-mouthed one's skills, and I had been slow to use him, but...he was good. In terms of skills and knowledge, I suspected he could challenge our best-paid worker if he wanted to. He was apathetic for the most part and had a bad attitude, but there was no denying that when it came to woodwork, he could put up a sturdy wall in minutes, and there had yet to be a repair he couldn't do.

As for the other one, he was also exactly whathehad evaluated. Ranch work was dirty, hard work that went double for the clothes and boots we all had to wear to get through the day. The second man was far quieter and reserved, but he was no less a hard worker when it came to...well, anything, but especially what he was good at. I again found myself having someone superb at what they did and had to face the fact that making him dig, clean, or lug things around all day was a waste of talent. The man's fingers were quick, and his eye was good, and he could repair any clothing with less time and resources wasted than anyone I’d seen.

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