How to Lasso a Cowboy (32 page)

She tried to be patient. “You're not being reasonable.”

“I'm being reasonable for the first time in two days, because I'm sober for the first time in two days.” He exhaled a frustrated sigh, which deflated him enough to make his shoulders sink below the water. “I can't believe I actually married you.”

That stung. “Hey. Lots of guys would be glad to marry me!”

“Then why didn't you get one of them?”

“Because I don't want a permanent husband. Don't you ever listen?” Her patience threatened to wear thin. “I don't see that asking you to park yourself here for a few days is expecting so much. After all, you
are
getting three hundred dollars.”

“So you keep promising.”

He lifted one arm from the water and draped it along the rim of the tub. His fingers had crinkled from the water, but other than that little detail, that arm was remarkably muscled, sprinkled with black hair plastered against sun-bronzed skin. Tess felt a flush turn her own skin warm. She'd seen her daddy in the tub often enough, and Sean too
before he left. But the sight of them in the wet altogether had never made her feel hot and dizzy. Tess wondered if Rosie had stoked up the stove too hot.

“Listen,
wife
.” The emphasis he put on the word made it a mockery. “I'm going to get out of this tub and find some clothes if I have to parade naked in front of everyone on this godforsaken ranch. Then I'm going to walk back into town, if I have to, to catch a stage out of here. So if you don't want your maidenly modesty outraged, I suggest you get the hell out of here and get my money. Because I'm going to be one unhappy cowboy if you welsh. And you don't want to see me unhappy.”

His voice had risen in volume, but Tess knew a bluff when she saw one, so she just chuckled smugly, confident that she held all the cards. Then he rose up. Water cascaded from slabs of muscle and ran in streams that outlined every sinew. And everything else. Her eyes widened and an involuntary gasp escaped her mouth.

Her face more fiery than Rosie's stove, Tess whirled around and squinched her eyes shut, as if she could erase the sight imprinted on her unwilling brain. “I'll get you some clothes,” she choked out, struggling to regain at least one finger of the upper hand. “But you can wait for your money until I have the deed to this ranch in my hand. So I'd just think about sticking around for a few days, cowboy, because you don't want to see me unhappy either. Trust me on that.”

With a flourish she didn't quite feel, she marched out of the kitchen, sweeping the curtain closed behind her. The cussing that followed her out made her almost smile.

JOSH
furiously rubbed himself dry with the towel that had been draped across one of the kitchen benches. Damned but that woman had more
cojones
than most men he knew. What kind of creature was she, anyway? She dressed like a man, talked like a man, swaggered like a man—and apparently had no trouble in outsmarting this particular man. This sorry state of affairs could convince him to never
touch liquor again. He couldn't believe he'd been drunk enough and downright stupid enough to do this to himself.

Before he had toweled away the last of the water on his skin, men's clothes flew like missiles through the curtain that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. The jeans were big, but he cinched them in with a worn leather belt. The gray flannel shirt pulled across the shoulders, but otherwise fit. Josh wondered if some other unsuspecting male had stumbled into this nest of women and left so fast he plumb left his clothes behind. He could understand it.

“Are you dressed?” Rosie's voice asked from the other side of the curtain.

“Yeah. Come on in.”

Rosie flung the curtain aside and stood for a moment to regard him appreciatively. “You don't look so bad when you're not swaying like a drunken mule.”

“Uh . . . thanks. Where should I empty the water?”

“Oh, I'll do that.”

Josh couldn't imagine letting a woman carry the heavy tub of water while he stood around and watched. “No, ma'am. Just tell me where to dump it.”

A slow smile softened her face. She had a pretty face that had seen a lot of wear. The smile called up remnants of a fresh girl, though.

“Take it out back. This way.”

He picked up the tub and followed her out.

“Colin's clothes fit you fine. Though I could let out the shoulders of that shirt.”

“I won't be around long enough for you to bother, ma'am.”

“Tess said you'd be staying a few days.”

“That's yet to be settled.”

“You can't leave while Sean is still sniffing around. He'd be on to Tess for sure. He doesn't deserve this ranch. Not any part of it.”

“I'll take your word for it, ma'am.”

“You don't have to. Ask Miguel. Ask any of the hands who've worked here since before Sean left. It wasn't that
he was a bad boy, just lazy. That boy spent more energy dodging work than anybody I've ever known.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Josh emptied the tub and hung it on a nail on the back wall. Everything here had its place, he noted. No clutter messed up the yard. What Rosie called the “back” was actually a courtyard, where a five-foot adobe wall connected the main house with a smaller building constructed in the same style—single-story adobe with few windows that could be quickly shuttered in case of foul weather or Indian attack. Though the Apaches hadn't given anyone much trouble for the better part of two decades, Arizonans had long memories.

In the courtyard was a hearth for outdoor cooking, a couple of worktables, a scattering of stools for those who wished, maybe, to sit outside on a mild evening and whittle or swap tales. The hard ground was swept clean of dust and debris.

Beyond the courtyard wall Josh could see two corrals, a barn, bunkhouse, chicken house, toolshed, and smokehouse, all in good repair. Grass already sprouted green between the mesquite, piñon, and cedar, and in the near distance wound the San Pedro, which carried precious water to give life to a land that would otherwise be parched. Fat, healthy-looking cattle grazed the river bottom, and on the crest of a nearby hill, a herd of horses stood in silhouette against the setting sun.

The people here had good reason to value this ranch. Many a man's dream centered on having a place like this. A woman's dream could rest here as well, Josh figured.

Rosie had noted his visual survey. “The Diamond T isn't like the grand rich places that run thousands of head, but it's a good ranch. Colin McCabe, God rest him, was a hardworking man. He knew cattle, and he knew horses.”

He heard words left unsaid, maybe that Colin McCabe should have known his children as well. But this wasn't his problem, Josh reminded himself.

Miguel came out of the barn, spied them in the courtyard,
and wandered over. “Woman,” he said to Rosie, “haven't you got nothing to do but stand around and talk?”

Rosie snorted, but her eye had softened, Josh noted, when the man walked up. “Old man, you should keep your nose to your own work and not bother about mine. Have you seen Tess?”

“Chopping wood for the stove.”

“Tell her dinner is in half an hour. Luis and Henry too.”

With that, she turned up her nose and marched inside. Miguel's eyes followed her, and a wry smile pulled at his mouth, but all he said was, “You'll like Rosie's cooking. But if you know what's good for you, don't ever eat anything that Tess fixes. That girl can shoe a horse and ride a herd, but she sure can't cook.”

“I won't be here long enough for her to poison me,” Josh reminded him.

Miguel's weather-lined face turned to granite. “You'll stay until Tessie tells you to leave, and then leave when she tells you. And you show proper respect, hombre, with Tess and Rosie too. Likely Tess could whup you if you got uppity, but if she don't, I will. You hear? That girl has a lot of friends, and you're right in the middle of 'em.”

Josh raised one brow. “It's a right friendly place, then.”

Rosie's cooking proved to be all Miguel had boasted. Supper was fried chicken, corn, and apple pie. Everyone ate at the big table in the kitchen, including Luis and Henry. Luis, a rangy Papago Indian, was Miguel's half brother, Josh discovered from the conversation. They shared a mother. Luis spoke little English, apparently, because both Miguel and Tess addressed him in Spanish. Henry, with ragged blond hair, pale blue eyes, and skin like leather, talked as much as he ate, and he ate a lot.

As they tucked into their supper, Tess waved toward Josh with a fork. “This here's my new husband.”

Luis grunted something inarticulate. Henry eyed him curiously but said nothing. Apparently the men here attached as much importance to Tess's marriage as she did.

Josh thought of the Double R, waiting in limbo until he
could get back to settle David's debt. A foreman and six hands depended on him coming back with six hundred dollars in his hand, and here he was, piddling away time on a second-rate ranch under the thumb of a crazy woman and her “friends.” What did he have to do to get her to give him his money and kick his butt off her property?

An idea occurred to him when Tess yawned and said good night, Luis and Henry ambled off to the bunkhouse, and Miguel cut half a loaf of Rosie's bread to take with him to his bunk in the “little house” across the courtyard. “You can bunk with me,” Miguel told Josh. “Get some blankets from Rosie.”

“Nope.”

Miguel stopped halfway through cutting the bread. “Nope? What nope?”

“Nope means I'm not bunking on your floor with only a couple of thin blankets between me and the cold. I married the lady of the house. Seems I have a right to sleep wherever I want.”

“Like hell.”

But Josh had already reached the door of the room into which his “wife” had disappeared. He knocked. “You decent,
sweetheart?
”

The door instantly flung open. Regrettably, Tess still wore her jeans and shirt, though the shirt had been untucked and now hung loosely past her hips. Her unbraided hair cascaded in a dark, shining fall down to those same hips, and she gripped a hairbrush as if it were a club. Her eyes narrowed when Josh grinned.

“What?” she demanded.

“It's been a full day,
wife
. I figure I'll turn in.”

“Go right ahead. And you can forget the sweetheart and wifey talk.”

Miguel and Rosie regarded them uneasily from the kitchen doorway, Rosie wringing her hands and Miguel wearing an incredulous expression that was almost comical. Josh began to enjoy himself.

“Is that any way for a new bride to talk?” He pushed
into the room. “Good thing the bed is big enough for two.”

“You're crazy.” Tess tried to block the way, but had about as much chance as a reed standing against a rolling boulder. His chest collided with hers, and she retreated as if she'd been burned. Josh felt a bit singed himself. Tess McCabe, for all her mannish dress and habits, definitely boasted a woman's charms.

Miguel clumped toward their little confrontation. “I'll tear him apart, Tessie.”

“I can fight my own fights.” Her tone stopped the man in his tracks.

“But—”

“Git, Miguel. When have I ever not been able to take care of myself?” She made the claim proudly, though her cheeks had turned pink. Josh's grin grew wider. He would be out of here in no time.

While Tess watched Miguel and Rosie retreat, Josh sat himself on the bed and patted it. “Nice mattress,” he noted.

Tess whirled around in a one-woman tornado. “You are insane,” she hissed, low and dangerous.

He grinned nonchalantly. “I don't know about that. I think I'm a fairly good judge of beds.”

She pointed toward the door. “Get out! Get out now!”

“A case of newlywed nerves, sweetheart?”

“Get. Out. Now!”

“It's my understanding that married folks sleep together.”

“We are not
that
kind of married. And if you think that you are sleeping in this room, then you're dumber than I first took you for. Out!”

And Tess McCabe was a good deal prettier than he'd first taken her for. Not to mention more interesting. With every furious movement her hair shimmered in the lamplight. Her face came alight with passion—cheeks aflame, eyes on fire. Not exactly the kind of passion a man likes to see in a woman, but still damned distracting.

He didn't remove himself from the bed. “Not that kind of married, eh? I got the idea that wasn't what you wanted the world to think.”

Those fiery eyes narrowed. She backed up a step. “That's a threat, isn't it?”

He just smiled. “I'm not such a bum to threaten a lady.”

“And I'm not enough of a lady to believe that load of horseshit.” But her tone became more cautious. “All right. You can sleep on the floor. In the corner.”

With deliberate insolence, he stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head. “Nope. I've had a hard couple of days. I fancy a night spent in a nice, soft, clean bed.”