Deborah Camp (8 page)

“I’m being neighborly. Wouldn’t hurt if you’d try it. You’re snapping at Monroe like he’s your sworn enemy. I thought he was the only one who stood up for you when you were charged with cattle stealing.”

“Don’t you worry about me and Roe. We don’t pussyfoot around when we’ve got something to say. Me and Roe have always been straight with each other.” His smile became cynical. “You two been courting?”

“No!” The word exploded from her just as Hendrix rejoined them on the wide front porch. He carried three shot glasses and distributed them.

“There you go.” He lifted his high. “To women of good breeding and men of guts and glory.”

Cassie removed her work gloves and brought the glass to her lips. Women of good breeding … Was he telling her that she wasn’t one for indulging in this whiskey ritual? To hell with him—and with smirking Drew Dalton! She flung the whiskey to the back of her throat and
swallowed it. The liquid fire scorched a path to her stomach, but she didn’t cough, didn’t choke, didn’t gag. It had been a long while since she’d indulged in the Devil’s brew, but not so long ago that she couldn’t hold her own with it.

She smacked her lips and spoke in even tones. “Not bad. It’s got a nice kick to it. Did you still it yourself, Monroe?”

“No, I bought it off a moonshiner in the next county.”

Monroe regarded her warily, as if he expected her to turn green any second.

“You know your whiskey, huh?” Drew asked.

“I know it well enough to leave it be most of the time,” she rejoined. “That’s something most men can’t ever get through their thick heads. Your pappy, for one, couldn’t drink without getting pie-eyed.”

“I’m not him.” His voice mirrored his expression—granite-hard. He swallowed the whiskey in one gulp and didn’t even blink.

Monroe cleared his throat. “You should let Drew help you, Cassie.”

“Oh, I aim to,” Cassie replied evenly. “I’m letting him help me run my ranch.”

Monroe sat forward, looking from one to the other. “You two are partners now?”

“Not exactly,” Drew allowed. “We’re looking out for our own interests in the ranch. She’s not my boss and I’m not hers. That’s why we both came around this morning to talk to you about the fence breaks.”

“I see.” Monroe set his empty whiskey glass down beside his chair and essayed a helpless gesture. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Thanks.” Cassie drew on her gloves again, ready to get back to her own side of the fence.

“How does it feel to be free again?” Monroe asked, rocking gently in the chair, smiling at Drew.

Drew smiled back, but offered nothing more.

“What was it like, being locked up?”

Cassie swallowed the tangle of nerves in her throat. Although she could see by the tightening of Drew’s jaw-line that he didn’t appreciate the nosy question, she found she wanted to hear his answer.

“It’s like being dead, but you’re still breathing,” Drew answered. “Every day seems like a year.”

Monroe looked away from Drew’s unwavering gaze. “Must have been awful. Are you sure you want to hang around here now that you’re footloose?”

Drew’s smile turned sly. “Roe, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you aren’t glad to see me. You want me to vamoose so you can sweet-talk Cassie here into joining the Square D with the Star H?”

Cassie sputtered with speechless fury, but Monroe laughed and slapped his thigh.

“Like I need more land to worry with,” Monroe said between chuckles. “No, no, I was just thinking that you deserve something better than breaking your back over a bunch of stubborn cows. I’m glad you’re home, Drew. I sure don’t want to see that ranch neglected, sectioned off and sold. That wouldn’t be good for anyone around here.”

“Who said it’s being neglected?” Cassie asked.

Monroe sent her a placating smile. “You’re doing the best you can. I know that.” He sat forward, directing his attention solely to Drew again. “Of course, I wouldn’t mind expanding my herd. My bloodline could
use some improvement, I reckon.” He removed a flat, silver tin from his shirt pocket and extracted a pinch of chewing tobacco from it. He offered some to Drew, who shook his head. “I’m going into Abilene next week to sell my bulls and a few older heifers. I hope to find some quality cattle there to buy. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in selling me some of your herd?”

Although he’d been talking to Drew, Cassie chimed in to field the inquiry. “Like I’ve told you before, I’m keeping what I’ve got.”

“She’s the cattle baroness,” Drew drawled. “Horses are my concern.”

Monroe stuffed the tobacco between his teeth and bottom lip. “You ought to come with me when I go to Abilene. They usually auction off some mighty good horseflesh.”

“Maybe I will.” Drew got to his feet. He swept his hat off his head and whacked it against his leg to dislodge the dust from it, then he wedged it back on over his russet hair. “Glad you’ll be taking care of that bull problem.”

“Anything I can do to head off trouble.” Monroe’s expression was suddenly grave. “Those days are behind us. Am I right, Drew?”

Drew cut his eyes at Hendrix, and Cassie felt the snap and crackle of tension. Again she stepped between the men, giving Drew a shove toward the steps.

“Don’t be a stranger, Roe,” she said, herding Drew off the porch. He jerked away from her, resenting her interference, but swaggered to his horse and swung up into the saddle, much to her relief. She grabbed Sweet Pea’s reins and stepped into the stirrup. Once she was
settled in the saddle, she waved at Hendrix before turning for home.

They rode side by side for a while before Drew broke the silence.

“Roe’s got his spurs in a tangle over you.”

Cassie nodded. “That’s right.” She felt him scrutinizing her, but she didn’t give him much to work with.

“He means to win you over, maybe even marry you.”

“He’ll have to get in line.”

Drew craned his neck, trying to glean something from her serene expression. “What’s that mean?”

“It means that I have half the bachelors in the county wanting to court me and not just because my son will inherit the Square D.”

“Other men have been snooping around you?”

She gave him a chiding glance. “What do you think?” Batting her lashes and flashing a smile, she pitched her voice to a seductive purr. “Take a look at me and tell me if you don’t think I’m easy on the eyes.”

Holy hell, it was a good thing he had a sound head on his shoulders! He figured she had
all
the bachelors in the county vying for her attention. All except him. He knew what she was after, and it wasn’t what was inside his trousers, but what was outside his front door: Land.

He didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t help himself. She pushed her hat off her head and it dangled against her back, held on by the chin string. Sunlight glistened in her white-gold hair, and her brown eyes were warm and liquid, like melting chocolate. A fetching blush bloomed in her cheeks, and her mouth formed a slight pout that fired his blood and made him want to kiss her, press those lips flat against his and separate them with a thrust of his tongue.

“Well?” she murmured, those plump lips barely moving.

“You’d look better to me from a distance,” he said, trying to be gruff.

Her sultry smile slipped away, and she jerked her gaze forward. “You’re rude.”

“That’s right,” he agreed proudly. “And I’m not some greenhorn kid who will be suffering Cupid’s cramps over you, so get that out of your head.”

She grinned. “Cupid’s cramps?” Then she laughed, carefree, like a girl in pigtails. “I should be mad at you, but I’m not. I don’t need you to tell me that I’m pretty. Men have told me that my whole life. What’s more important is that I’m smart and I know when a man’s being truthful and when he’s just airing his lungs.”

She set her spurs to the gelding and rode ahead of him, letting him watch her hair flow back from her and her backside rise and fall in the saddle.

She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to make sure he was watching. She knew it.

A few days later Drew went with Monroe into Abilene to the auction and returned the next morning with three mares. One of them was already pregnant. Cassie sat on the top rail of the corral fence with T-Bone and watched as Drew and Gabe went over each of the new horses.

Dynamite whinnied from his stall in the barn, and T-Bone chuckled.

“Your stallion smells female,” he shouted to Drew.

“It was all I could do to keep him off them on the way back here,” Drew said, pausing to wipe sweat from
his brow. “I’m going to breed him to the gray mare first.”

“Ought to get a right nice foal from them,” Gabe said, stroking the gray’s sleek neck.

“This chestnut will foal by next summer.” Drew scratched between the mare’s ears. “She was bred to an Arabian. You ever see one of those? A full-blooded one?”

“Nope, can’t say that I have,” Gabe confessed.

“They’re beautiful. Regal-looking. But for my money, there is no better breed than the quarter horse. They’ve got good dispositions and they’re smart. Smarter than a lot of cowboys I’ve known.”

He turned to the third horse, a dark-brown quarter horse with black points, mane, tail, and legs. Lifting a hand, he frowned when the horse skittered backward.

“She’s head shy,” Cassie said. “Probably been mistreated. Whipped in the face.”

Drew murmured, his voice musical and husky, using sounds instead of words. Cassie felt something inside her respond, unfurling and circling around her heart. The horse must have felt something, too, because she stood still, letting Drew rest a hand between her laid-back ears.

He massaged her ears and whispered into them. Cassie edged forward on the rail, her legs and torso tense, as she strained to hear the soft murmurs and watch the gentle stroke of his hands on the horse’s ears, blazed face, and quivering neck. Something quaked deep inside Cassie, and she realized her breathing had grown shallow.

What was it about this man? Maybe it was his voice—so deep and compelling, but soft and husky. Or maybe it was his looks. That ornery glint in his eyes, those full lips that said so much without forming words. He was
dreamy handsome, and his muscled body had stamped itself on her mind’s eye. At the oddest times she caught herself thinking about how the muscles in his arms flexed when he lifted Andy high into the air and about how he walked with that strutting swagger, his long legs eating up the ground.

But it was more than his looks that captivated her. It was his manner. Quiet and controlled, he kept himself on a tight rein.

During the past few days she’d noticed that he was careful with a dollar. He’d gone over their money ledgers and had allotted a meager sum to use on fixing up the house, but he’d explained that more funds would be freed up after they’d built their nest egg. Cattle would be sold in the spring, and they’d budget to last the year. No luxuries, nothing but necessities, he had cautioned.

She’d been impressed by his way with a dollar. His father had wasted too much on whiskey, smelly cigars, and betting on card games. While he had refused to spend any money on fixing up the house or buying new clothes, he squandered money on his vices.

But not Drew Dalton. In fact, she wasn’t sure he had any vices other than his prancing, high-spirited stud horse. Might be fun to find out, she mused, watching him run his hands all over the skittish mare’s head. Over her eyes, her nose, her ears, her wide face. The mare settled, almost as if she were in a trance, and closed her eyes. Actually shut her eyes, giving herself over to the feel of those hands.

Hell, who could blame the nag?

Cassie slid off the fence and walked toward Drew. “What are you doing to her?”

“Getting her used to my feel,” he said, almost in a
whisper. “Making her trust me. Once she understands that I won’t hurt her, she’ll calm down. Won’t you, girl? Pretty, pretty girl.” His voice was honey-dipped. “There, there, pretty girl. Settle down and let me show you how much I think of you. That’s it. Relax, darlin’. You’re in good hands now.”

Cassie shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling hot and moist. Her skin felt prickly and her heart galloped like a colt. She found that she was watching his hands—his good and steady hands—stroking and caressing the mare. If one could judge a man by his hands, then Drew Dalton was strong and tender, sensitive and knowing. After a night with him, a woman probably couldn’t get the smile off her face for days.

Giving herself a mental slap, Cassie drew herself up and cleared her throat of any huskiness that might be there. “What I want to know is if any of these horses will make good cow ponies.”

Drew slanted her a look. “I didn’t buy them with that in mind, but yeah, they’re quarter horses, so they can cut cattle with the best of them.”

“What did you buy them for if not to ride?”

“Breeding,” he said, and the word coming off his tongue and lips struck a tuning fork deep inside her. “Dynamite needs some mares to mount. You’re looking at this ranch’s future. In ten years the Square D will be known for its horses.”

“In the meantime, cattle is our money crop,” Cassie reminded him. “Dreams have to wait—as usual.”

“It’s not just a dream anymore. I’m making it happen.”

She arched a brow, displaying her skepticism. “But you
will
ride the range with us lowly cow handlers,
won’t you? Dynamite won’t be needing much help connecting with these mares, so you should have a lot of time on your hands.”

One side of his mouth kicked up. “I didn’t think you needed any help around here.”

“What I don’t need is someone to feed who doesn’t carry his load.”

“Don’t worry, Shorty. I’ve never been accused of that.” He returned his attention to the mare, rubbing her ears before gliding a hand over her back. The horse quivered from head to tail. He laughed softly. “That’s right. Feels good, doesn’t it, girl?” His eyes met Cassie’s across the mare’s sloped back. “What are you all red-faced about?”

Her mouth had gone dry, so she shook her head and walked back to where T-Bone perched on the fence. She propped her elbows on a rail and leaned back to contemplate Drew and his way with the mares.