Gift of Fortune Read Online Free

as half owner of the Triangle B he
wouldn't have to work hard, they had just gone up in
smoke.
    What puzzled him most, though, was the absence of a
bunk-house. Where did the hands live? A ranch this size
couldn't be worked only or even primarily by the owner
and the elderly foreman he had met. Looking around, Quint
wondered where he would sleep. Briefly he considered the
tack room. But it was unheated, and in early March it was
still too cold to sleep there. He didn't mind pitching his
tent and had often done so, but not when the night temperatures still dipped below freezing.
    Shivering, he stared at the house. It certainly appeared
to be large enough to have several bedrooms. Convincing
that freckle-faced, understatedly sexy schoolmarm that he
should occupy one was another matter. Except he owned
half the house and had every right to demand a bedroom.
He didn't have a choice really, and neither did Aileen.
    Making her buy that should be interesting, to say the
least. Quint suspected that his teasing banter and line of
compliments that usually worked on women wouldn't
charm Aileen. She had a way of fixing those lovely blue
eyes on a guy that was guaranteed to freeze him in his
tracks-if he was a high school student, that is. Since Quint
was a decade beyond that stage with the experience to
prove it, that schoolmarm trick wouldn't work on him. With a grin he grabbed his bedroll and his duffel bag and
headed for the house.

    Inside, he dropped his things in the hall and proceeded
to the kitchen. Aileen looked at him from the sink where
she was rinsing lettuce.
    "Can I help you?" Quint asked.
    "Is that a polite offer which you hope I'll turn down?"
    "Nope. I'm not into polite offers, so don't expect any. I
told you I'm handy in the kitchen. Besides, most of my life
I was in a position where, if I wanted to eat, I had to work
for it."
    "In that case, you can tear the lettuce into bite-sized
pieces. Wash your hands first, please."
    "Yes, ma'am." He observed her freckled skin turning
pink.
    "Sorry, that came out like an order rather than a request,"
Aileen said.
    "Must be a professional hazard. As I recall from my
school years, teachers sounded more like they were giving
orders than making requests."
    "Even if I would rather be amiable with students, it's
better to be a bit of a drill sergeant. Then they won't try
to get away with quite so much," she admitted with a slight
smile.
    "I'd call that being a little devious."
    "And I call it wanting to survive. There's only one of
me and a lot of them."
    Quint paused to look at her. "You're right. I had never
thought of it like that." He dumped the lettuce into the salad
bowl. "Anything else you want me to add?"
    "Whatever you find in the crisper. There are no tomatoes.
This time of year, the ones in the store are so anemic looking and tasteless, not to mention expensive, that I can't
bring myself to buy them."

    Aileen's reference to something being expensive caught
Quint's attention. He watched her face, wondering if she
was just frugal or if the ranch was in financial trouble. The
signs of neglect could be due to lack of money as easily
as to lack of manpower. The Cheyenne attorney hadn't had
any information on the financial status of the Triangle B.
He would have to find that out from the bank.
    Quint watched Aileen move competently between the
stove and the table. If she had money trouble, it didn't
show, and he knew all the signs of that particular problem.
Fascinated, he observed the play of light on her hair. Sometimes it was more red than gold. Idly he wondered what
color she called those bright tresses she had tried to tame
with combs. He had never found freckled skin appealinguntil now. What rotten timing.
    For the first time in his life he had a chance to make
something of himself, to become respected. He couldn't
blow that by becoming involved with this woman. She was
his partner. Anything beyond that might interfere with