The Rough and Ready Rancher (7 page)

His first thought was to get Jenna back to the house and out of danger. Then, and only then, would he come back to seek out the identity of the voyeur.

“Jenna, I could stand here like this all night, but we've got company,” he whispered close to her ear. When she tried to jerk from his grasp, Flint held her tight. “I want you to stay right beside me. We're going to walk back to the house like nothing's wrong. But if I give the word, I want you to run like hell and don't look back. You got that?”

She nodded. “Who do you think it is?”

He draped his arm across her shoulders and started toward the house. “I don't know. But he can't be up to any good or he'd make his presence known.”

They walked at a steady, seemingly unhurried pace, and when they entered the study, Flint breathed a sigh of relief. He'd felt that same malevolent stare all the way back to the house and knew they'd been followed. Closing the door behind them, he grabbed the phone and alerted Brad, then went to the gun cabinet.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He removed a Winchester with a scope from the rack and shoved cartridges into the magazine. “Just stay here.”

“But I could—”

“I said stay put,” he ordered. “Brad's going to meet me down at the barn. Whoever it was probably took off once we got back to the house.” He pumped the lever on the rifle down, then back up, loading a cartridge into the chamber. Releasing the hammer slowly, he readied the weapon for immediate action and headed for the door. “But I want to see if he left something behind that will tell me who he was and what he's up to.”

“Be careful.”

Flint turned back to brush her soft lips with his. “Count on it, darlin'. We have unfinished business.”

 

The first fingers of light hadn't cleared the horizon when someone knocked on the study door. Looking up from the breeding register in front of him, Flint called. “Come in.”

“You have a minute?” Cooper asked.

“Sure. Have a seat.”

After Cooper settled himself in the chair across from Flint's desk, he rested the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other, then hooked his hat on the toe of his boot. “Jenna said you've had some trouble lately.”

Flint nodded. “At first it was just some missing cattle. But lately it's started getting nasty.”

“So I've heard. Jenna mentioned someone watching you and her last night.”

“Brad and I found some tracks, but that was about it,” Flint admitted. “Jed was down by the brood mare barn, but he didn't see anyone, either. Whoever it was cleared out pretty fast.”

Cooper laughed. “The rules of the game always change when a Winchester gets involved.”

Flint watched the man's eyes. He had more on his mind than trespassers. “You got something you'd like to say, Adams? If so, spit it out.”

“I like you, McCray. You're a hell of a nice guy.”

“But?”

“This thing between you and Jenna has me worried. I don't want to see her hurt.” Cooper's gaze clashed with Flint's. “She's already had more than her share.”

“I don't see how—”

Cooper held up his hand. “I know she comes across as capable of handling anything. And to a certain extent that's true. But when Jenna gives her heart, she holds nothing back.”

Flint didn't quite know what to say. He wasn't about to insult the man's intelligence by denying there was something going on between himself and Jenna. He glanced at the diamond necklace in the dome on the mantel. Thanks to his ex-wife, he wasn't sure he'd ever be ready to acknowledge it.

Before he could comment, Cooper smiled. “I just thought I'd warn you before I leave. Hurt my sister, and I'll be back to do more than just square off for a fight.”

Flint nodded. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Cooper stood to leave. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

“Where are you headed now?”

“New Mexico. But I'll be back next week for the Panhandle Stampede in Amarillo.”

Flint grinned. “I'll see if Jenna will let me and Ryan tag along when she goes to see you ride.”

Cooper shook his head. “Don't count on that happening.”

“Why?” Had Adams warned Jenna away from him?

“She doesn't care much for rodeo.” The man squarely met Flint's suspicious gaze. “Jenna blames rodeo for some events in her life that I don't think anyone or anything could have prevented.”

“She mentioned what happened with your mother,” Flint admitted. “I'm sorry.”

Cooper nodded. “That and a couple of other things have her so turned off she won't even watch me ride.”

“Your sister can be a little stubborn.”

Cooper laughed. “You're not telling me anything I don't already know, McCray.” He shook Flint's hand. “If you get the time, go ahead and bring Ryan up to Amarillo. I'll make sure he gets to meet some of the boys.”

“Ryan would like that. Thanks.”

Flint sat staring at the glass dome long after Cooper left. He could appreciate Cooper's position on protecting Jenna. But the man had it all wrong. Flint had a feeling
he
might be the one left licking his wounds after Jenna moved on.

J
enna tied Black Satin to a post and placed a blanket on his back. On the outside of the round pen, Flint gripped the top of the fence and braced his booted foot on the bottom rail.

“If you say one word, McCray, it had better be goodbye,” she warned. She'd seen him walk up to the fence, but until now he'd shown no signs of interference. Her voice soft and low, she continued to pat the stallion's neck. “I know what I'm doing.”

She eased the saddle onto the horse's back to let him experience the weight of it. When Satin snorted and turned his head to see what she was doing, but otherwise stood quietly, she praised him and rubbed his muzzle.

Walking over to where Flint stood, she raised an eyebrow. “Did you need something?”

“I know you don't want a lot of people and noise while you're working with Satin. And I can understand your
logic. But the day you ride him for the first time, I intend to be here.”

“It's not necessary—”

“Yes, it is.” He nodded at the stallion. “I'll give credit where it's due. You've made a lot of progress in a short time. But I've seen the gentlest horse come completely un-glued the first time he feels the weight of a man.”

Jenna stood for a moment, her anger escalating like the mercury of a thermometer in boiling water. She wasn't a greenhorn. She knew what a horse was capable of the first time a rider was introduced to him. There wasn't much she hadn't seen. But she'd learned long ago, if a horse wasn't given a reason to buck, it didn't have to be a problem.

She turned back to Black Satin. Arguing with Flint wasn't getting her job done. “We'll discuss this later.”

“You're damned right we will.”

She untied the stallion and led him around the corral for a short time with the saddle cinched to his back. Satisfied with his reaction, she tied him to a post to remove it. Despite her mood being anything but placid, she spoke in a low, soothing tone as she placed the saddle on the top rail of the fence. There wasn't any sense in disturbing the horse just because she wanted to throttle his owner.

Flint watched Jenna turn Black Satin into the pasture, take the saddle back to the tack room in the barn, then zero in on him. Even from across the round pen, he could see the determination in her eyes. He had to force himself to remain rooted to the spot, when what he wanted to do was run like hell.

The tongue-lashing she would no doubt deliver on his interference with Satin's training didn't intimidate him. He could handle that with little or no trouble. It was the thought he was getting in too deep, too fast, that had him scared spitless. He didn't believe Jenna was anything like Nicole, but his past history with women was testament to
the fact that he had poor judgment when it came to the fairer sex.

“Listen up, cowboy.” Her terse command snapped him out of his unsettling introspection. “If you're going to tell me how to do my job, you can train that horse yourself.” She closed the gate behind her, then marched up to stand toe-to-toe with him. “As long as you're quiet and don't interfere while I'm working with Satin, I don't care if you hang upside down from the fence rail. Just let me do my job. Okay?”

He started to tell her there was no way he'd stand back and watch her get hurt, but the words lodged in his throat. He couldn't remember what he was about to say or if he wanted to say anything at all. The phrase, Bull Riders Like It Rough, on her light-blue T-shirt left him speechless. It was the second rodeo shirt he'd seen her wear, and if not for her innocent expression, he'd swear she wore the damned things just to drive him crazy.

“Flint, what's wrong?” Jenna asked, concern marring her brow. “You look as if you've been punched in the stomach.”

He grinned as his active imagination kicked into over-drive. He'd promised her last night they had unfinished business. And now was as good a time as any to get it done.

“What the hell,” he muttered, hauling her into his arms to crush her lips beneath his. He wanted to prove the attraction between them was mutual.

He slid his hands down to her hips to pull her closer, trying to absorb her into his hard maleness. The smell of her herbal-scented hair, the sweet taste of her lips on his, drove Flint to the brink of insanity. But her soft moan as she settled against him almost sent him into orbit.

Jenna's heart pounded against her ribs. She was angry and she wanted to stay that way. But when Flint's lips
melded with hers, her stomach did that wobbly little cartwheel only his kiss evoked. His tongue affected the intimate act of lovemaking, and she tingled with tiny currents of electrified desire.

The sound of approaching footsteps penetrated the sensual fog surrounding her, and she struggled to free herself from Flint's strong arms. “Please, Flint.”

“You can run this time, darlin'. But next time we're going to finish what we started.”

Her cheeks burning, she stepped away from him. His candid comment caused a heaviness low in her belly, and she gulped at the intense message emanating from his chocolate-brown eyes.

Without a word Jenna turned to walk toward the house. She should terminate the contract and get as far away from Flint McCray as Daisy could take her. But she rejected the thought, even as it materialized. She had never run from anything in her life, and she wasn't about to start now.

 

“Flint, I think you'd better come take a look at this,” Jed called as he jogged over to where Flint stood.

“What's that?” Flint asked, reluctant to turn his attention away from the delightful sight of Jenna's retreating backside.

Jed motioned for Flint to follow, and when they'd entered the barn he pointed to a piece of paper attached to one of the saddles in the tack room. “I found this when I got ready to saddle up. I thought I'd best leave it alone till you checked it out.”

Flint stared at the note resting in the center of the leather seat. The words had been crudely pieced together from magazines, but the message couldn't have been more clear.

“It's time to pay for what you've done.”

After scanning the paper, Flint went to the phone by the
door. “Before we touch anything, I want that note and the saddle dusted for fingerprints.”

An hour later Flint and his men watched the county sheriff, Troy Bartlow, brush the saddle with a white powder.

“We have some pretty good prints here,” Troy said, once the images became more visible. He took a camera from his pocket, snapped pictures of the prints' location, then covered each one with transparent lifting tape. After transferring them to a special paper, Troy turned to Flint. “We'll run these through the computer and see what we can scare up. If this guy has a record of any kind, we'll find out who he is. Do you know if any of your men have been fingerprinted before?”

“They took mine when I was in the army,” Jed spoke up.

When Brad and Tom shook their heads, Sheriff Bartlow removed an ink pad and cards from his investigator's case. “We'd better take your prints to eliminate any confusion.” He paused to look at Flint. “Anyone else have access to the tack room?”

“Miss Adams been ridin' that buckskin,” Jed offered.

“I'd better get her prints, too,” Troy said.

Flint turned to the phone to call the ranch house. He didn't like it, but Jed was right. Jenna had been in the tack room just before the note was found.

Jenna arrived a few minutes later, just as the sheriff finished up with Tom and Brad.

“I can tell you right now my fingerprints will be all over that saddle,” she stated bluntly. “It's the one I've been using when I ride the buckskin.”

 

Before Flint left to check the grazing conditions in the northern pastures, Sheriff Bartlow called to say there hadn't been any fingerprints on the note. But Jenna's prints were all over the saddle, just as she'd predicted.

That wasn't conclusive evidence, Flint reasoned, giving his horse its head. He didn't want to believe she was the one at the ranch feeding the rustlers information. But the field of suspects was narrowing. Flint trusted Whiskers implicitly. Jim was unable to get around without crutches and therefore eliminated from any involvement. That only left Jed, Tom and Brad. Flint had known them all for several years and considered all three valued employees. The thought of any one of them being involved in the trouble didn't sit well.

Dried grass crackled like a bowl of rice cereal beneath the bay's hooves, drawing Flint's attention to more pressing matters. He was going to have to move one of the herds to Devil's Gorge. The ground water there was closer to the surface, and the grass more suitable for grazing.

Although it would be a hassle to get the cattle into the gorge, there was an added advantage. Once inside the box canyon, there was no way the rustlers could get to the herd, except on horseback. And that took time thieves couldn't afford.

Flint's gaze scanned the horizon and came to settle on a horse and rider headed for a nearby windmill. When they drew closer, he recognized Jenna as she rode up to the stock tank. She looked in all directions, but evidently couldn't see him for the grove of mesquite between them. He watched her glance around once more before dismounting. Why was she being so cautious?

Flint's frown turned to a delighted grin. Although the buckskin stood between them, there was no mistaking her purpose. Jenna was removing her clothes.

He stopped his horse to keep her from noticing him, his grin widening as he watched. He should be shot. A gentleman would advise her of his presence.

Shaking his head, he laughed. They'd established right off that he came up lacking in the area of gallantry.

And Flint didn't see any reason to break a perfect record. He headed over to the tank, started to unbuckle his belt and pull it off.

“What do you think you're doing?” Jenna asked, her heart thudding hard against her ribs.

It had been a hard day, and she welcomed the relief from the oppressive heat and gritty dust covering her skin. She'd felt a shadow fall over the water. But when she'd opened her eyes and glanced up, instead of the rain cloud she hoped to see, her eyes had met Flint's and she'd seen the mischievous grin lighting his handsome face. Even though her drawn-up knees hid most of her breasts, there was still a large amount of cleavage exposed that Flint seemed to find fascinating. She sank down to her chin, her eyes wide.

He tugged his shirttail from his jeans and, with one quick jerk, opened all the snaps on the front of his shirt. “It's mighty hot today. I thought it would feel good to cool off in one of my stock tanks before I start back to the house.”

“But I'm here!”

“I don't mind.” Hanging his shirt on the saddle horn, he unsnapped his jeans and lowered the zipper. “I'll share.”

Jenna gulped at the sight of so much skin. Masculine, hair-roughened skin. Flint's skin. When she noticed his jeans gaping open to expose the top part of his white cotton briefs, riding low on his lean flanks, her heart felt as though it stopped completely.

Smiling, he hooked his thumbs in the waistbands of his jeans and briefs. “There's plenty of room.” He pushed downward. “You don't have to leave.”

She closed her eyes and turned her head when it became apparent Flint wasn't the least bit shy. “I was thinking more along the line—” She heard him step into the water and scrunched her eyes tight. “—of
you
leaving. Not me.”

He sat down across from her. “Why would I do that? This feels good.”

She swung her head around to glare at him.

His eyes mischievous beneath the wide brim of his hat, he drawled, “You know you shouldn't go swimming without a partner. It could be dangerous.”

“The water's only a couple of feet deep.”

“Yes, but this tank is ten feet across.” He looked thoughtful. “I'll bet if I stretched out and relaxed, my whole body would float.”

“Don't you dare.” Jenna envisioned Flint, front side up, bobbing around in the water, and her vivid imagination went wild.

His grin faded, and noticing the direction of his rapt gaze, she looked down. In her agitation her body had come out of the water to expose all but the tips of her breasts, and those he could easily see just beneath the surface.

She sank back into the water. “You're a low-down horse's patoot.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” he teased. “That was a good one.”

“You seem to bring out the best in me,” she retorted.

“I'd like to.”

Jenna's breath caught. The message in his smoldering eyes left no doubt what he'd like to do. Goose bumps rose on her skin, despite the heat swirling through her body.

“Flint, please—”

“Please what? Please tell you that I don't want to feel you beneath me? Feel myself inside you?” He slowly shook his head, his intense gaze never leaving hers. “I can't do that.”

Her cheeks colored with desire at his provocative words. “Flint, we—”

“Not now, darlin',” he interrupted. “But soon.” His
expression changed, and he allowed her to see the raw hunger in the depths of his eyes. “Real soon.”

He hadn't moved from the opposite side of the stock tank, but his eyes held her captive with their seductive message and his husky drawl caused Jenna to feel as if he'd caressed her sensitized skin.

“Now get out of here before I change my mind,” he said, his voice low and impassioned. When she hesitated, he raised one dark brow. “Are you extending an invitation?”

“No.” She pointed to a spot behind him. “Turn your head.”

Flint laughed, the sound deep and rich. “Oh, I've already seen you like this at least a hundred times.”

“When?” she asked, appalled.

“Every night in my dreams.”

Swallowing hard, Jenna waited until he turned to face the open prairie. She had to get away from him before she gave in to the temptation of staying where she was and finding out if he meant what he said. When she stepped from the water, she made sure the horse stood between herself and Flint's curious eyes long enough for her to pull on her clothes.