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drive wouldn’t be the first to come to mind.
    “I just hope I don’t meet a bear,” Marlee said. Maybe changing the subject would distract Fern. “Is it too much to hope that they’re all in hibernation already?”
    “Goodness, no.” Fern laughed. “They won’t be hibernating until the snows set in for good. But don’t you worry about that. There is plenty of menfolk who would jump at the chance to protect you.” She chuckled. “That’s what I tried to tell Meg.”
    “Who is Meg?”
    “My daughter.” Fern sighed so heavily, she sank a little lower on the pile of bedrolls. “My old maid daughter.”
    Marlee frowned. She’d only read that term in old-fashioned books. She had no idea people still used it.
    “That’s why I’m here,” Fern said.
    That got a cackle from Crazy Hoss up front. “Fern signed Meg up for this cattle drive, hoping Meg would catch the eye of a single cowboy out here.”
    Fern bristled. “It was a great idea, and she should have listened to me. She’d be married up by now if she gave any of my plans half a chance.”
    Crazy Hoss hooted with laughter. “It was the first time I’ve ever seen that sweet and gentle gal outright refuse to obey her mother.” The old man whacked his knee with glee. “So now Fern has to take Meg’s place for the cattle drive.”
    “Honestly!” Fern flushed. “This is the perfect place for her to find a man.” She sniffed and turned her attention back to Marlee. “She’s great with horses, and simply stunning in the saddle. If you don’t look too closely at her face.”
    Marlee’s mouth fell open, and she had to clamp it shut to hold in the gasp that bolted from her chest.
    “It’s the truth,” Fern said, unperturbed by her own bold words and Marlee’s shock. “She’s my own daughter, so I can say it. It’s the plain unvarnished truth.”
    “Now, Fern.” Crazy Hoss turned in his seat to pin Fern with a stern look. “Meg ain’t exactly been beaten by the ugly stick, and you know it. She’s a fine strong woman.”
    Fern snorted. “Strong is what folks around here call a woman when she isn’t good-looking. But the truth is, Meg’s covered from head to toe in freckles, and she refuses to wear makeup or do anything with her hair because she’s too busy spending all of her time with her precious wild mustangs. She doesn’t realize how wild she looks herself.”
    Marlee gazed out over Crazy Hoss’s head where the horses plodded up the winding mountain road. Beyond the horses, the face of the mountain rose, swathed in thick pine, with an occasional blaze of aspen. Out there somewhere were herds of wild mustangs. Maybe, if she could land this job, she’d track Meg down and ask her how a person went about spending time with wild mustangs.
    “You, on the other hand….” Fern’s voice trailed off as she studied Marlee.
    Uh-oh.
    “You’ll be easy to marry off. You’re a real beauty.”
    Marlee’s cheeks heated. “I’m just here to cook,” she put in hastily.
    Fern laughed. She sat back, smiling and blinking like a contented cat. “A person can do two things at once, you know.”
    Maybe she should have taken Jett up on his offer to saddle an old nag for her, instead of riding in the matchmaker’s chuck wagon.
    But it was too late for that now.
     
    * * *
    They pulled into camp as the sun set.
    Marlee was sorer than she’d ever been in her life, but she had to ignore it if she was going to get through the evening.
    “I’ll help ya with the tent,” Crazy Hoss said. He’d unhitched the team, and had hobbled them in a nearby meadow.
    Now, he was pulling rope and canvas out of the wagon.
    “The tent?” Marlee stared. She was supposed to set up a tent? This wasn’t something they’d covered in culinary school.
    “The mess hall and kitchen,” Crazy Hoss said. He threw her a corner of heavy canvas. “You didn’t think you were going to cook in the wagon, did ya?”
    Marlee lugged the canvas where he directed. She bit the