Deborah Camp (7 page)

Drew loosened the saddle on the stallion. “Some were,” he answered, chagrin creeping into his voice.

T-Bone nodded. “Figured as much. That’s them bulls of Monroe’s. He says he’s selling them off this spring. Can’t sell them quick enough to suit me.”

“Me neither,” Gabe chimed in with a wide grin. “I think somebody ought to tell Monroe Hendrix that he should fix the fences since they’re torn down by his bulls. But shoot, Hendrix is lazy about things like that. He don’t mind if his cattle chomps on our grass or tramples our fences. He probably sees this land as his already.”

Cassie’s temper surged at that suggestion, and she noted that Drew’s face flushed red, too.
Hmm, maybe he could be a friend instead of a foe
, she thought. Two fighting to keep the land would be better than one, especially when the one was a woman with a baby.

“He knows better now that I’m home,” Drew said, leading his horse toward the corral. “He’s always had a hankering for this land, but he’ll get it over my dead body.”

Cassie watched him walk. She liked to watch him walk and found it hard to tear her gaze away from him. She heard his voice, soft and whispery, as he spoke to his treasured horse. She didn’t have to wonder how that silky voice would affect a woman. Having him whisper
like that into her ear—why, even the coldest of women would melt around the edges!

She jerked her mind from that trap before she could get caught up into thinking of him as anything more than a possible partner. Seemed like he knew his way around a cow, a horse, and a ranch. Didn’t seem to be the lazy sort either. She might offer him a partnership. Maybe. If he backed her into a corner. What she
could
offer him was a compromise for now. She wouldn’t ask him to leave if he would quit expecting her to pack her things and head for Abilene.

She sighed with relief, happy with the sound of that agreement. Over supper tonight she’d present it to him, and then they could both breathe easier and get on with the task of living—living with each other.

A frown creased her brow. Now, if only she could get him to move his bedroll out to the bunkhouse …

“I’ll move into that bunkhouse when pigs fly!” Drew slapped the napkin down beside his empty plate and folded his arms against his chest. “As for letting you stay here for now, I don’t have any quarrel with that. Your baby, after all, is my little brother. I’m not so hardhearted that I’d render him homeless.”

His little brother. Her Andy? Cassie glanced toward the high chair, where Andy beat his fists on the tray, anxious to be fed another spoonful of mashed peas and potatoes. Smiling, Oleta obliged, and Andy smacked his lips.

“If only you would stop being so stubborn and go into town, look around, find yourself a room or maybe even a small house,” Drew said, his voice taking on a placating note she didn’t like. “Wouldn’t that be better
for your little one? There are upstanding gentlemen in Abilene who would appreciate the attention of a lady like yourself.”

She blasted him with a fiery glare. “For your information, I’ve spent most of my life in towns scattered from here to the California coast, and I’ve met my share of upstanding gentlemen. I want to give my son what is rightfully his. Andy is a Dalton and this is the Dalton ranch. A.J. told me he was leaving this place to my son. He willed it to him.”

“He willed it to me,” Drew said, arms still folded. “And by doing so, he had the last laugh on both of us.”

“How do you figure that?”

“He left me the ranch and he left me a brother I have to fight for it. A baby brother.” He looked at Andy, and his expression softened. “And I imagine the old man knew you’d fight me tooth and nail, too.”

Witnessing the softening around his eyes and mouth when he looked at Andy, Cassie took a different tack. “You sleeping under the same roof with your little brother’s mother ain’t right. Folks will talk.”

His blue eyes slid to her again, and one corner of his wide mouth kicked up. “What folks?”

She shrugged and made an expansive gesture. “Folks.”

He glanced around at Oleta and Andy. “Oleta here will keep quiet, and not many people can understand Andy’s jabbering. I’ll take my chances.”

Cassie released a huffy sigh. “Neighbors will talk. How can I face the preacher and the congregation this Sunday at church with you living under the same roof with me?”

“The gossiping folks around here will have plenty to talk about without worrying if I’m staying here in this house with you. Hell, I’m a hardened criminal who’s been released from prison to spoil and plunder this land again.” He widened his sky-blue eyes and hunched his shoulders. “Lock up the women and children! Guard your families and your herds! Dalton is back, and that means trouble.”

She wasn’t impressed with his histrionics. “I doubt if anyone is shaking in their boots at the news you’re riding the range again. Maybe they’ll keep a sharper eye on their cattle, but that’s all the bother you’ll cause.”

He leaned forward, resting his folded arms on the table, and the light went out of his eyes. “Don’t underestimate me or what I’ve been through. If I didn’t leave here a hardened man, I assure you I’ve come back one. My old man and two and a half years in prison turned my heart into a chunk of rock. I’ve got one aim, to make a name for myself as a horse breeder. That’s what I care about—my horses and the reputation I’ll build from them. Anyone who gets in my way gets run over. Anyone who messes with me gets bloodied.”

Oleta swallowed a shriek and stood up. “I will go to my room. I will clean the dishes later.” She left the table, quick as a frightened rabbit.

“Well, you’ve got her running scared,” Cassie allowed. “But me and Andy are standing our ground.” She leaned toward the baby and chucked him under his chin. He grinned and blew spit bubbles. “Ain’t that right, big boy?” Cassie said, laughing at her son’s antics. “We won’t tuck tail and run. No siree. We love this land, and heaven knows I’ve earned my right to oversee this place.”

“Why, because you’ve got a ‘missus’ before your name?”

She straightened up from the baby. “No, because I put up with your foul-smelling, putrid-mouthed, ornery old pappy and bore him a pretty son. I tried to be a good wife to him, but he didn’t want a wife. He wanted a slave girl he could boss, who wouldn’t talk back or cry or complain. We’ve both been in prisons. Yours had bars, mine didn’t, but I was stuck, same as you.”

“You could have left him.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “No, I married him. I don’t welsh on my word.”

He stared at her for so long that she grew uneasy and had to busy herself by picking up the dishes and stacking them on the drain board.

“I don’t welsh on my word either,” he said from behind her, his voice suddenly huskier. “We’ll share the damned ranch, but I’m not giving up on my plans to make the Square D known for its horses as well as its cattle.”

Her heart boomed so loudly that she was sure he could hear it as she turned around to face him again. For a hard man he sure had heavenly eyes. Celestial blue. Angelic, almost.

“I appreciate that,” she said, finally finding enough breath to fuel her voice. “You can stay in the loft, I guess.”

He grinned lopsided, rakish. “Why, that’s right sweet of you, ma’am.”

She grinned back, knowing full well that her permission meant nothing to him, but enjoying the playfulness of the gesture.

Andy squeaked and gurgled, drawing their gazes.

“Did A.J. want the baby?” he asked.

She bit her lower lip, worried about how he would react. “The first day I arrived, he told me he wanted a son.”

He nodded slowly, almost sadly. “Yep, if he’s not roasting in Hell—which I hope to blazes he is—then he’s laughing his ass off, the old goat.”

“He’s not laughing now,” she told him, wanting to lessen the bitterness and anger she sensed in him. “We’ve struck a bargain, you and me, and I bet that’s something A.J. Dalton didn’t expect from us.”

“Not so soon anyway.” He tucked his thumbs under his belt and was quiet, lost in thought.

Cassie heated water for the dishes and washed Andy’s face and hands. After a few minutes Drew stood and stretched his arms over his head.

“I’ll ride over to the Star H tomorrow and have a talk with Monroe about his rowdy bulls. You want to go with me?”

She nodded. “Right after breakfast?”

“That’ll do. I’ll take a turn around the place before I crawl into bed.”

“Here.” She held up an apple and tossed it to him. “It’s got a bruised place. Give it to that show-off horse of yours.”

He examined the apple, and a smile poked at the corners of his mouth. “He’ll like this.” Touching two fingers to his forehead, he fashioned a salute. The light was back in his eyes, twinkling, tempting. “G’night… Cassie.”

“G’night… Drew.”

She turned back to the stove, where the water was boiling and steam blasted her in the face. She hardly felt
the heat. Her skin was already hot, her temperature spiked, her interest on the rise.

Damn, if the man didn’t have a right fetching smile when he chose to use it.

Andy released a string of vowels that ended with a high-pitched screech.

“I know, baby,” Cassie said, leaning down to drop a kiss on top of his head. “You’re the only male I should be thinking about.” But in the next moment, she found herself hoping that Andy’s eyes would stay blue, and turn that heavenly, star-sparkling shade.

M
onroe Hendrix stood on his expansive front porch and wore a big smile that showed off his straight, white teeth. Morning sunlight slanted over his pepper-and-salt hair and glinted off the silver handles of the guns strapped around his waist. His clothes were wrinkle-free, and his snakeskin boots had been polished to a shine.

“Good morning,” he greeted Cassie and Drew. “You two haven’t shot each other yet, I see.”

Drew laid a hand on his injured shoulder, feeling the bandage under his shirt. “As a matter of fact, I
was
shot, but by a couple of drifters who were snooping around our horses, looking to steal them. You know them. Reb Smalley and Dan Harper.”

Monroe lifted his dark brows. “Yes, they were here looking for work, but I sent them on.”

“To the Square D?” Cassie asked.

“No. I just sent them on their way. They tried to steal your horses, did they? Thanks for coming out here to warn me. I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

Drew strode up the porch steps and into the shade.
“We came by to talk to you about some other trouble we’re having.”

“Trouble?” Monroe ran a finger under the white and black checked bandanna tied around his neck. “Already?”

Cassie took her place beside Drew, not wanting it to appear that he was the boss man now and she was along just for the ride. She stepped forward, angling for the upper hand but feeling like a sapling between two towering oaks.

“We’ve had a rash of fence breaks,” she said, fixing a scowl on her face. “Some of our cattle might have wandered off.”

Monroe gave a scoffing laugh. “Hell, that ain’t trouble, girl! Your cattle are always wandering onto my land.”

Drew placed his hands on Cassie’s shoulders and unceremoniously pushed her aside. She would have told him off right then and there, but he was talking before she could think of a comeback.

“That’s going to change. Now that I’m back, I’ll make sure the fences are kept up. Of course, I’ll expect you to do your share. I hear you’ve got some young bulls that are butting posts and knocking them over.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Cassie said, wedging herself between him and Hendrix. Monroe smiled at her, but she felt Drew’s cold glare on the back of her neck. “We can’t keep spending all our time shoring up the fences bordering your property, Roe. You’ve got to do something about those randy bulls of yours.”

Monroe laughed and rested a hand on her shoulder. “So that’s what this is all about. My young bulls? Why, I’d do anything for you, Cassie. You know that.”

Cassie felt her face heat up and was agonizingly aware of Drew’s scrutiny. Any fool could see that Monroe Hendrix was sweet on her, and from what Cassie had seen, Drew Dalton was no fool.

“If some of the Square D cattle are mixed in with yours, you don’t mind if we round them up today, do you?” she asked.

“I imagine you’ve got more than you can handle,” Monroe said affably. “I can a spare a man or two to round up your strays. I’m expecting a new ranch manager to arrive here any day now to keep a better eye on my place.”

“Have you been having trouble around here?” Drew asked.

Monroe waved off the question. “Nothing serious.”

Drew leaned his good shoulder against a porch support. “Since you have men to spare, why don’t you send them out to patrol the west border and repair your own fence breaks for a change?”

Cassie ground her teeth, watching the friendly light dim in Monroe’s eyes. She believed in being a good neighbor, so she placed a gloved hand on Monroe’s forearm and offered him a smile. Pleasing men and smoothing ruffled feathers were second nature to her.

“I’d be much obliged, Roe. Say, are you going to offer me something cold to drink or send me away from here parched and pouting?” She felt both of the men’s keen gazes, but she was more concerned with Drew’s. She knew he thought she was a tart for flirting with Monroe, but she had learned long ago how and when to use the few gifts God had bestowed on women.

“Where are my manners?” Monroe rested his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze. “How about a spot of
tea? Drew and I will have a slug of whiskey. Sound good to you, Drew?”

“Sure.” Drew’s eyes laughed at her.

Liquor was something she had no taste for, but she knew a challenge when she heard it. “Whiskey’s fine for me, too.”

“W-what?” Monroe sputtered.

“I’ll have a slug of whiskey, too,” she repeated.

Drew eyed her but kept quiet.

Monroe shrugged. “Well… If you’re sure …”

Cassie sat in one of the rockers while Hendrix went inside for the liquor.

“You’re a whiskey drinker, are you?” Drew asked, one corner of his mouth kicking up as he sat in the rocker next to her.