The Rough and Ready Rancher (10 page)

His face a stony mask, he lowered the weapon. “I asked you a question.”

Shaken by the venom in his voice, she sat down on a bale of hay by the wide, double doors. “I went for a walk. When I passed the barn I thought the mares sounded restless, so I decided to check on them.”

“They don't seem nearly as edgy as you.”

She wondered if he'd lost his mind. “Wouldn't you be shook up if someone pointed a rifle at you?”

“How was I to know you weren't someone else?”

Remembering the trouble, her indignation cooled. With the problems he'd experienced, it was only natural he would assume the worst when he saw an unexplained light in the barn. “I'm sorry. I should have told someone I was going for a walk.”

“Yes, you should have.” He leaned the rifle against the barn wall, placed a booted foot beside her on the bale and crossed his forearms on his thigh. “But right now we have other things to discuss besides your evening walk.”

“Okay,” she said, meeting his icy glare. What could she have done to deserve such an ominous look? “What would you like to talk about? The weather? Cattle prices?”

“Cattle prices might be a good start. It seems several of the ranches you've worked for have had rustling problems.”

She stared at him. He thought she was stealing his cattle?
“Yes. Several of the places where I've worked have had cattle stolen. But we both know spreads the size of yours are easy targets. Always have been and probably always will be.”

“But you were in residence at the time.”

Jenna clenched her fists to her sides and struggled for patience. A certified saint would lose it with this man. “Did you have trouble before I arrived?”

“Yes.”

“Then doesn't it stand to reason I'm not involved?”

“Things heated up as soon as you arrived.”

“So did the weather,” she shot back. “Are you going to blame me for that, too?”

“If I were you I wouldn't be so insolent.” His eyes narrowed. “We still haven't discussed why you live the life of a transient when you have over a quarter of a million in a bank down in Austin. And another twenty-five grand in Oklahoma City.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “How dare you? That's none of your business.”

“I think it is.” He pinned her with a piercing gaze. “Explain to me why someone with that much money would live like a nomad when she could well afford a place of her own. Not to mention a decent vehicle to drive.”

“As far as I'm concerned, we have nothing to discuss,” she retorted, jumping to her feet. She had no intention of explaining her lifestyle to Flint or anyone else. And she refused to listen to any more of his accusations.

“You haven't answered me,” he said, catching her arm.

Jenna looked down at the large hand encircling her upper arm. The reaction that always accompanied his touch was there, but she ignored it. He had pried into a part of her life she had no intention of sharing with him or anyone else. And at the moment she despised him for it.

“You had no right sticking your nose into my affairs, McCray.” Leveling her furious gaze on him, she jerked
from his grasp. “And I'm not going to justify your high-handedness by answering your questions.”

“You're working for me now. I make it a point to know all about my employees.”

She glared at him. “Our contract states I'm to train your horse, not sell myself into servitude.”

Jenna started for the barn door but Flint blocked her path. “Wouldn't you be suspicious of a top-notch horse trainer who drove a truck that looks like the loser from a demolition derby?”

His accusations hurt, and hot tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let him see the extent of her misery. “You don't know what you're talking about, McCray. And I'm not going to enlighten you. You have your mind made up. You wouldn't believe me, anyway.”

She tried to step around him, but like a vise, Flint's large hands clamped her shoulders. “Why, Jenna? Make me understand.”

Suddenly engulfed by years of desolation, she stared past his shoulder into the darkness outside. Her voice devoid of emotion, she whispered, “You couldn't possibly—”

The sudden commotion of agitated horses at the far end of the building caught their attention. Jenna turned to see an eerie glow quickly grow into dancing, orange flames licking at the entire back wall of the barn.

He set her aside and ran toward the fire. “Get the men.”

Their confrontation forgotten, Jenna grabbed the rifle and ran through the big, double doors to fire several shots into the quiet night sky. Propping the rifle against a water trough, she ran back into the barn and opened the first stall she came to.

As she led the nervous animals out to one of the exercise pens, Flint's men arrived to uncoil lengths of hose and soak saddle blankets with water. The ranch hands shouted for her to stay back, but she ignored them. The flames were
spreading, and the valuable mares were in danger of being lost. She had to evacuate as many as she could.

Sparks swirled everywhere, and the crackle of wood being consumed by hungry flames deafened her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her lungs ached from the thick smoke, but she refused to give up. There was only one stall left.

She opened the enclosure to grab hold of the mare's halter, but the panicked animal proved to be more than she could handle. She found a burlap bag just outside the stall, wrapped it around the mare's eyes and, with dogged determination, guided the horse into the wide aisle. The nervous horse pranced in a circle around her, and Jenna had to summon every ounce of her flagging strength to hold the animal.

The loud crack of an overhead beam caused the terrified mare to lurch to the side, pinning Jenna against the side boards. Pain shot through her, and the air rushed from her lungs.

She searched for Flint among the men battling the blaze, but when she called his name, her voice failed. A sweet lethargy swept over her. His image became fuzzy, and sounds grew distant. As she slipped into the peaceful quiet of an all-consuming black abyss, she welcomed the respite from the oppressive heat and the pain of trying to breathe.

Her last thought was of Flint. She didn't want to leave him. He needed her whether he realized it or not.

F
lint turned to shout orders to his men, but the scene a few feet away caused the words to die in his throat. As if in slow motion, he watched Jenna crumple to the barn floor, her body dangerously close to being trampled by the terrified mare.

He dropped the hose he held, called to Brad and the other men to take control of the blindfolded animal, then scooped Jenna into his arms. Running for the safety of the cooler outside air, he felt fear tear at his insides. Had the horse already stepped on her? Could she have internal injuries?

He gently cradled her limp body to his and sprinted across the ranch yard to enter the house. “Get the first aid kit,” he ordered, rushing past Whiskers on his way to the stairs.

Taking the steps two at a time, he passed Jenna's room and carried her to his. When he placed her on the bed, she moaned.

“Jenna. Darlin', can you hear me?”

Her eyes fluttered, then slowly opened. “Flint—”

“Easy, darlin'. You're safe now.” Searching for signs of injury and praying he'd find none, his hands shook as he ran them along her body.

Assured there were no broken bones, he sat down beside her to smooth her hair from her face. He couldn't see any visible signs that she'd been injured, but it was the possible internal injuries that concerned him.

Ryan ran into the room, followed close by Whiskers. “Is she hurt bad?” the old man asked.

“I can't tell.” Flint bathed her face with the damp cloth Whiskers pressed into his hand. “Get her some water.”

Ryan stood beside Flint, his little chin wobbling. “Daddy, please don't take Jenna to the hospital. I love her. I don't want her to die.”

“I'm…” She coughed several times before she could go on. “I'm all right.” She took Ryan's hand. “I promise.” Glancing at Flint, she asked, “What about the mare?”

“The men got her out.”

“I called Mac,” Whiskers said, handing Flint a glass. “He oughtta be here in fifteen minutes.”

Knowing Ryan felt as helpless as he did, and not wanting to upset the boy any more than he already was, Flint hugged his son. “I need you to do something very important. Could you go to the kitchen and watch for Dr. McEvers?” When Ryan nodded, Flint smiled. “Good. Bring him up here as soon as he arrives. Okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” Ryan said, already halfway to the door.

Flint turned back to support Jenna while she sipped the water. “Just rest, Jenna.” He eased her back on the bed. “Doc's ranch is only a few miles away. He'll be here soon.”

“It's not necessary,” she protested, her voice raspy. “My throat's a little sore, but otherwise I'm fine.”

“I want to make sure.”

Sheer terror was an unfamiliar emotion, one he hadn't dealt with more than once or twice in his thirty-three years. But in the past few days Flint had come to know the feeling quite well. Icy fingers had gripped his heart until he thought it would burst a couple of nights ago when Jenna had fallen from Black Satin. And then tonight, as he'd watched the panicked mare dance around her helpless body, the feeling had returned full-force.

“Flint?” He turned at the sound of Brad's hoarse voice. “Is Miss Adams going to be okay?” his foreman asked.

Flint nodded. “Whiskers called Mac just to be sure.”

Turning his hat in his hand, Brad shifted from one foot to the other. “The brood barn's a complete loss. The best we can do is keep it from spreading to the other buildings and let it burn itself out.”

Flint could tell from the look on Brad's face and his agitated actions that the man had more on his mind than the status of the fire. Taking Jenna's hand in his, Flint said, “I'll be back in a little while.”

“Go ahead.” Her grip weak, she squeezed his hand. “I just had the breath knocked out of me. I'll be fine.”

He hated to leave her but, placing her in Whiskers's care, he followed Brad down the hall. “What's up?”

“It looks like whoever we're fighting just took another punch.” His face grim, Brad led Flint out of the house toward the barns. “That fire was no accident. It was set.”

When they rounded the end of one of the buildings, Brad pointed to a couple of discarded fuel cans. “Jed stumbled across these on his way to fight the fire.”

Clear liquid dripped from the opened cans, a small, dark circle spreading where the fluid wet the dusty soil.

Flint squatted down to wipe a droplet from the rim of the can. He sniffed the substance on his fingers. “Kerosene.”

Brad nodded. “I checked the shed. Somebody's been into the supply we keep for the heaters in the calving barn.”

Flint got to his feet, his anger and frustration increasing tenfold as he felt the malicious eyes once again watching him.

 

Jenna slowly opened her eyes to the late-afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. For a second or two she wondered where she was, but as events of the past evening returned, she glanced around. She was in Flint's room.

Curious, she sat up to survey her surroundings. Knotty pine paneling provided an excellent foil for the pieces of Native American artwork and heavy, dark mahogany furniture. She noticed several pictures of Flint and Ryan on the dresser along with a ragged looking, one-eyed teddy bear.

She smiled and, throwing back the patchwork quilt, got up for a better look. She touched the frames with gentle reverence, and tears filled her eyes. She loved them both so much. How would she ever be able to leave them?

And after Flint's accusations last night, leaving the Rocking M
was
inevitable, once she finished Satin's training. Saddened by the thought, she made the bed, then went to her own room for a shower and fresh clothes.

Twenty minutes later Jenna descended the stairs to a silent house. She listened for sounds of Whiskers moving around in the kitchen or Ryan's excited chatter. But the house remained strangely quiet. Too quiet.

Just as she reached the bottom step, Flint walked out of the study. They hadn't talked after he'd left her to check on the fire, and as they stared at each other now, an uneasy feeling came over her. He still thought she might be involved in the trouble.

“How are you feeling?” he finally asked, breaking the strained silence. “Mac gave you something to sleep. Are you sure you feel like being up?”

“I'm fine.”

“He said you were a little bruised, but otherwise okay.”

Jenna nodded. She couldn't stand the tension. It was time to set things straight. “We need to talk.”

Flint gazed at her for several long, uncomfortable moments before he stepped back for her to enter the study. Once they were both seated, he watched her twist her hands into a tight knot. A dull ache squeezed at his gut. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what she had to say.

“Where did you want to start?” he asked.

He watched her take a deep breath. When she raised her eyes, she met his gaze head-on. “First off, other than coincidence, I can't explain why some of the ranches I've worked at have experienced rustling problems. But we both know stealing cattle has always been quite profitable. Depending on the market, a thief can make hundreds of dollars on each animal.”

Flint leaned back in his chair. “You've amassed a lot of money in a very short time.”

Gray sparks lit her eyes. “Where did you get your information on my financial affairs?”

“I had your background investigated.”

“Why?”

Looking back, it seemed pretty lame, but at the time he'd thought it extremely important. “I wanted out of the contract. You knew that. I was hoping to find something to prove you weren't suitable for the job.”

One of her brows rose. “Now you think you've found it?”

He met her gaze, before his eyes sought out the dome on the mantel. “I'm not sure.”

Clearly angered, Jenna sat forward. “Then why did you
confront me last night as if I'd committed a crime?” When he started to answer, she shook her head. “I know why. You naturally assumed I was guilty of stealing cattle and banking the profits. Didn't you?”

Flint didn't like admitting it, but that was exactly what he'd thought. “Facts and figures don't lie. People
do.
”

“Then let me set you straight, McCray.” Her eyes sparkled with gray fire. “First off, I wouldn't use that investigator anymore, because evidently the man is incompetent. If he'd done his job, the figures would have added up. We both know my price for training a horse is quite high. If you want the best, you have to pay for it. Plain and simple. I've trained dozens of horses in the past six years. That's why it seems like I have a lot of money stockpiled.”

“But—”

“I'm not finished,” she snapped. “You inherited this spread, and that's great. I don't begrudge you one inch of it. But I've never had that advantage. I've had to scrape and claw for everything I've ever had. And, believe me, when you earn it the hard way, you learn to hang on tight.”

She glared at him. “Did it ever occur to you that I might be saving my money because I'm working toward a goal? Are you so arrogant you think you're the only one with plans? The only one to have a dream?”

“No.” Flint felt guilty as hell. Everything she accused him of fell too close to the mark. “But—”

“It was so much easier to assume the worst. Right?”

Before he could answer, she rose to her feet and paced the length of the study. “You've always had a home, Flint. But I've never had that luxury, never had a place where I truly belonged. Believe it or not, a camper on the back of Daisy is the only thing I've ever been able to call home. That's the reason I keep her. I could afford to replace her with a brand-new, top-of-the-line truck and camper. But I
won't. She's not just my home, she's the only thing I have left of my father.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes defiant. “Don't get me wrong. I'm not ashamed of where I came from or the fact that I've been poor most of my life. But I want something better. I want a permanent home and horses of my own. That's what I'm working for. Why I save every dime I can.”

Flint's guilt increased. Jenna had mentioned her lack of roots before, but he assumed she'd exaggerated. His gaze darted around the study. He'd always taken everything he had for granted. He couldn't imagine not having a home or the pride he always felt when he thought of the generations of McCrays who carved a thriving enterprise from the dusty Texas soil.

She was right. He had been an arrogant son of a gun not to consider she might have dreams and goals of her own. He'd been too busy comparing her to his ex-wife. But Jenna was nothing like Nicole, and it was way past time he faced that fact.

“I've never stolen anything in my life, nor have I ever tried to destroy what someone else has,” she stated. “All I ask is a chance to work hard and realize my dreams.”

The more she explained, the worse he felt. “So why haven't you bought a place? You have more than enough money.”

She shook her head. “No, I don't. When I buy a ranch where I can raise and train horses of my own, there won't be any liens or mortgages. Everything will be paid for, free and clear.”

Flint admired her determination, but as a successful rancher, he saw the impracticality in her reasoning. He left his chair, walked up to her and encircled her waist with his arms. “If you deplete your reserves, how would you handle the emergency expenses that arise?” He gazed down at her.
“It would be more feasible to make a sizable down payment, take out a loan for the balance and keep the rest in savings for the unexpected.”

She shook her head. “Once I have what I want, I don't intend to give anyone the chance to take it from me.”

Flint pulled her forward and cradled her to him. He could identify with her tenacity. He'd always felt if something was worth having, it was worth fighting to keep.

His heart told him Jenna was worth fighting for.

“Darlin', I'm sorry. I was out of line.” Words didn't even begin to cover how low Flint felt. “Do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me?”

He tunneled his hands through her glossy hair, the dark-gold strands flowing over his tanned skin like fine, silken threads. He needed to show her what he couldn't put into words.

Jenna's lips tingled at the first brush of Flint's mouth on hers, and her hands came up from where they gripped the belt loops of his jeans to splay across his broad back. His suspicion and distrust had hurt her deeply, but his heartfelt apology, the magic of his touch and the feel of his hungry lips on hers, transformed the hurt into an entirely different emotion.

Restless with the need building inside her, she ran her hands down Flint's spine, then slid them into his hip pockets to squeeze his tight rump. Men thought women had sexy rear ends, but women found a man's to be no less exciting.

And Flint's bottom was perfect. Slightly hollowed on the sides, the firm muscles rounded as they sloped away from his back, then tucked in tight at the tops of his thighs.

“You have a very sexy behind, cowboy.”

“Not as sexy as yours.”

When his hands slid into the hip pockets of her jeans to pull her forward, Jenna gasped. The electric current from
the contact flowed through her to pool with aching heaviness in her lower belly. Her knees tried to buckle.

“Easy, now.” He steadied her, then made quick work of removing her shirt.

Not quite sure how it happened, Jenna found herself naked from the waist up. But when he opened the snap on her jeans and started to lower the zipper, she stopped him.

“This isn't fair,” she protested.

She reached up to release the snap just below his open collar and kissed the newly exposed skin. She did the same with the next snap and the next, until she came to the waistband of his jeans. Her kiss there caused a growl of pleasure to escape from deep within his big body.