Читать книгу High Country Hideout - Elle James - Страница 9

Chapter Two

Reggie Davis never got thrown from her horse. She prided herself in her horsemanship and ability to work long hours in the saddle without complaint or incident.

To be thrown in front of a witness and then tackled like a quarterback in a football game didn’t sit well with her. Especially when she had no idea who the man was.

She scrambled in the mud to get her feet beneath her and stood. Then she stooped to snatch her hat off the ground, slapping it against her thigh. She’d have to let the mud dry before she could brush it off. Just what she needed, to be slammed into the mud by a big man with broad shoulders and ruggedly attractive features.

Her attacker rolled to his side and pushed to his feet, with a little help holding on to the wooden fence to pull himself upright.

When he straightened, Reggie’s heart skipped a couple beats. The man towered over her. At five foot three with her boots on, that wasn’t too darned hard. But it put her at a distinct disadvantage if the man decided to attack her again.

Knowing the best defense was a good offense, she crossed her arms, her boots planted wide, and glared up at the intruder. “Well? Are you going to explain yourself?”

His lips twitched and he bent to scoop his hat off the ground. “Next time I’ll leave you to be trampled.”

“I was doing fine on my own, thank you very much. Until you decided I needed a mud bath.”

“Sorry, ma’am. A little mud can be washed off. A dent in the head won’t wash out in a bath.” He held out his hand. “Angus Ketchum, the new ranch hand.”

Ignoring his hand, she kept her arms crossed. “We didn’t hire a ranch hand.”

“CW, the foreman, did. He said you needed a hand.” Still holding his hand out for her to shake, he waited for her response.

She stared at him for a moment, refusing his outstretched hand. With the sun sinking quickly behind the mountains, the air chilled. The mud soaking her clothing cooled against her skin and she shivered. “I need to have a talk with CW. Don’t start unpacking your bags yet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded toward the cattle. “Want me to get the herd into this pasture?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You ever worked cattle?”

“Most of my life.”

“Then yes. Have at it.” She stood back and waved a hand at the cattle now strung out, some heading back the way they’d come.

“First, let me get you out of harm’s way.” He grabbed her around the waist and she squealed, grabbing his shoulders as he lifted her to sit on the top rail of the fence.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she commanded, strangely breathless at the way his big hands had splayed around her middle and lifted her so effortlessly.

“I won’t unless...you want me to.” He winked, snagged her horse’s reins, soothing him with murmured words of assurance. He ran his fingers over his neck and down to his hooves, checking them one at a time. “Can’t see any injuries that would have caused him to rear like that.” He glanced up. “I’ll take him into the barn and give him a good going-over.”

Reggie nodded, entranced by the quiet confidence and soothing manner the man displayed with the animal.

The cowboy led the gelding through the gate Reggie had been aiming for earlier and through the back door of the barn.

Reggie sat on the rail, letting her heartbeat return to normal.

A few moments later her cowboy reappeared with a bale of hay, carrying it to the far side of the pen.

The man walked with a strange gait, limping slightly, more pronounced with the heavy bale in his grip.

As soon as the cattle spotted him and the hay bale, they raced through the gate, every last one of them, including Reggie’s horse.

So, he knew what motivated cows. Anyone with half a brain would have figured it out. It still didn’t give him the right to tackle her into the mud.

“They could use about five more of those, while you’re at it,” she called out. If he was applying for a position as ranch hand, he might as well feed the cows and save her the trouble. She still had her horse to curry, feed and stable, not to mention stalls to muck.

CW worked hard, but he was getting older and slower. After he’d thrown out his back last year, Reggie hadn’t wanted him doing too much. By having him drive to town to pick up Tad from school, it made him slow down enough he wasn’t killing himself with ranch work.

He’d been asking for a ranch hand for a while now. Reggie had finally agreed, unsure of where she’d come up with the money to pay one. But if she wanted to keep the ranch viable for her son to inherit one day, she had to have help.

The man reentered the barn and came out carrying a bale in either hand, the limp much more pronounced, his jaw tight with the strain.

Show-off.

Not one to sit around while others worked, Reggie climbed down from the fence and almost stepped on a large dark creature. Her first instinct was wolf! She screamed and scrambled away. Her feet hit a patch of mud, slid right out from under her and she landed hard on her butt.

The animal stepped closer, its nose within biting distance of her face.

Reggie froze and then a long pink tongue stretched out and licked her chin, the dog whining its concern.

The ranch hand loped over to the fence and peered over the top to where she once again lay sprawled in the mud. “Are you all right?”

He started to climb over the fence, but she raised a hand. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting to be attacked.”

The man’s face split into a grin, his teeth shining white in the gloom. “Ranger is a highly trained purebred German shepherd and perhaps the most decorated dog in the US Army. He retired from active duty six months ago.”

“Well, hooray for Ranger. Can you call him off me?”

“Ranger, sit.” The man spoke softly and the dog responded immediately, squatting on his haunches.

Now that she knew it wasn’t a wolf, Reggie felt stupid. For the second time that day she picked herself up and tried to dust the mud from her jeans. Ah, who was she kidding? They’d have to be hosed down before going into the washer.

Feeling bad for her nonchalance about Ranger’s service, she reached out and scratched the dog behind his ears. In response, Ranger leaned against her leg and looked up at her with grateful eyes.

“Really tough, aren’t you?” she muttered, a sucker for soulful eyes and fur. She slipped through the fence. “That hay’s not getting itself out to the cows.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And stop calling me ‘ma’am’. I’m not that old.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes. “What did you say your name was, cowboy?”

“Angus Ketchum.” He held out his hand. “And you are?”

“Reggie Davis. The owner of the Last Chance Ranch.”

In the darkness, she didn’t miss his eyes flaring. When she took his hand, an immediate spark rippled up her arm and down her body. She had to look up at him to see his face, now shadowed in the dusk.

“You’re the boss?” he asked.

“Yes. Me.” She frowned and let go of his hand. “What? You don’t think a woman can run a ranch on her own?”

“No, ma’am. I just thought the owner would be a man.”

“Well, he was. A very good man, but he died last year. Now I run the ranch until my son is old enough to handle it himself. Do you have a problem taking orders from a woman?”

“No, ma’am.” Angus held up his hand. “You’re the boss.”

“Damn right, I am.” She slipped between the rails of the fence and strode across to where her horse was nosing his way into the herd, vying for a taste of hay. Snagging his reins, she led him into the barn.

Angus had gotten ahead of her and was carrying two more bales to the door. He paused and waited for her to lead the horse inside. In that moment, Reggie got a really good look at the man.

Dark hair, darker eyes and a chiseled jaw with the hint of stubble shadowing his skin. He certainly was handsome, in a rugged way. He sported dark smudges beneath his eyes and fine lines at the corners.

Yeah, he was handsome, but then, handsome wasn’t always a good thing. She’d learned that most handsome men were too full of themselves to think of others. Angus would have to prove himself in other ways. Looks weren’t everything. Honesty, loyalty and hard work were much more important in Reggie’s books. It took a real man to make a cowboy, not just a cowboy hat.

She tied Jake’s reins to a post and stepped into the tack room for a currycomb and brush. When she returned, Angus was loosening the girth on her saddle.

“I can do this,” she said.

“I don’t mind. It’s my job.”

“I can take care of my own horse,” she insisted.

“Never said you couldn’t. You take care of the horse. I’ll take care of the saddle.” He hefted the saddle and blanket and carried it to the saddletree in the tack room.

Having fended for herself over the past year, Reggie wasn’t used to someone else taking charge. She tried to be ahead of CW as much as possible to spare him the additional work.

She couldn’t lie; it was nice to have someone else carry her saddle to the tack room. After a long day out in the cold air and rocky hills, she was ready for a shower and sleep.

She’d be glad when her brother returned from his trip to Denver. The ranch was a lot of work. When he was there, it took some of the burden off her shoulders. Too bad he wasn’t living there. Then again, she couldn’t expect Will to spend all his time on a ranch he’d never own. As a Realtor, he needed to continue to build his clientele so that he could increase his sales and income. He’d been spending a lot of time with one of the Realtors in the firm he worked for. He’d gone with her to Denver for a seminar. Reggie suspected Will was falling for the woman. She’d met her once and hadn’t really liked the woman, but then she might not have given her the benefit of the doubt.

Reggie brushed Jake from nose to tail, pausing to check his legs and hooves. The front leg had a long scrape on it, probably from when he’d reared.

Returning to the tack room, Reggie grabbed a tube of antiseptic cream, a clean rag and filled a bucket with fresh water. In a few short minutes she’d cleaned the scrape and applied the cream to the horse’s leg. Then she took the time to work the tangles out of his tail.

Angus was outside for longer than she would have expected. When he didn’t come back in for the last bale, she went looking for him.

As she stepped into the back doorway, he appeared, carrying what appeared to be a snake.

It rattled and Reggie jumped back.

Jake neighed and danced around, tugging at the reins tied to the post, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“What the hell?” Reggie demanded.

“Don’t worry, it’s not real. When I couldn’t find an injury on your horse, I checked the ground where you fell.” He turned it over and showed her the switch on the back that disengaged the rattling sound. “It makes the rattle noise when it senses movement.”

“It’s a toy?”

“Some toy.” He glanced at the horse. “Do you have a bag we can put this in? Your horse has had enough trauma for the night.”

Reggie retrieved a burlap sack from the tack room and helped Angus stuff the toy inside.

“You said you have a son?” he queried.

“I do. But that’s not one of his toys.”

Angus’s lips tightened. “Is there anyone on the ranch who likes playing cruel practical jokes?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s just CW, Jo, Tad and me. Sometimes my brother stays out here, but he’d never pull something like that.”

“It’s not a joke when someone almost got killed.”

She frowned. “I wouldn’t go that far. I was fine. I wouldn’t have been killed.”

“CW tells me there have been some unfortunate events around here lately.”

Reggie shrugged. “CW is an old hen. He worries too much.”

Angus tilted his head. “Could it be you worry too little?”

“What? So now you’re an expert on what’s going on at the Last Chance Ranch?” She glanced at her watch. “You’ve been here all of a couple hours and you’re lecturing me.” Reggie shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

He stared at her for a long moment and then smiled. “You’re absolutely right. Please accept my apologies.” He set the bag with the snake aside, along with the previous conversation. “What do you feed the horse?”

Reggie accepted his retreat at face value and responded. “Sweet feed. It’s in that container in the corner. Two coffee cans full.”

Jake danced around the post she’d tied him to, his eyes wide, his ears pinned back. Reggie smoothed her hand down his nose in an attempt to calm the big animal.

When he settled, she led him to his stall, removed his bridle and hung it on a hook beside the stall door.

“Excuse me.” Angus squeezed past her, accidentally brushing his body up against hers in the process. A bolt of electricity shot through her, leaving her fingers, toes and other odd places tingling.

At least, it appeared to be that the contact was an accident of the confined space. Surely the cowboy wasn’t trying to get close to her on purpose. After she’d pretty much told him off, what man would flirt with her? And for that matter would she know if a man was flirting with her? She hadn’t been on a date since high school, when she’d had what she’d thought was her last first kiss with her high school sweetheart, Ted. They’d been together all those years.

Angus dumped the feed cans into the trough and exited the stall, brushing against her again.

The sudden electrical surge powered through her body again and she hurried out of the way. Her husband had only been dead for a year. Surely that wasn’t enough time to forget. Ted had been her world up until the day he’d slipped at the edge of a crevasse and fallen more than three hundred feet to his death. A year ago she’d been living the dream, working with her husband at her side, her son growing up in the most beautiful place in the world. One careless misstep and Ted was gone.

The past year had been an eye-opener. Sure, she’d helped a considerable amount while he was alive, but she’d also taken the time to be a mother to her young son. Tad had been four years old when his father died. He barely remembered the man, which grieved Reggie.

Her husband, Theodore Alan Davis Sr., had been a good man, and she’d loved him with all her heart. From high school in the small town of Fool’s Fortune, they’d attended the same college in Denver and returned to help out on his father’s ranch. When Ted’s dad died, his mother followed soon after. They’d barely met their grandson, and Tad had never really gotten to know his grandparents.

The pain had faded, but the loss still left a hole in her life. Until she moved on, it would remain.

Seeing the new ranch hand move around the barn as though he knew what he was doing didn’t help. This was Ted’s barn, Ted’s ranch, and Ted had been the love of her life. Why then, was she attracted to a man who’d knocked her on her face in the mud? Angry at herself, she turned away from the man who’d stirred in her something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. And all because of an accidental bumping of bodies.

“I’m going to the house for a shower,” she said and left the barn. Better to step away than to continue to stare at the man. She’d have a word with CW. Maybe they could find an older or uglier guy to work the ranch. With that plan in mind, she headed for the house.

* * *

ANGUS’S LEG ACHED like crazy, but no matter how much it pained him, he’d die before showing even a shred of weakness in front of the owner of the Last Chance Ranch. Had he known the owner was female...what? Would he have refused the only job offer he’d had since being discharged from the army?

No. He couldn’t. Who else would hire him?

His muscles clenched, his gut knotted and his heart rate kicked up.

Ranger nudged his fingers, reminding him to remain calm and to scratch his ears. The dog sensed when anger or anxiety threatened to overwhelm Angus. When it did, Ranger stepped in and nudged his hand or laid his nose in his owner’s lap. The contact and resulting calm helped Angus regain his focus within seconds.

He had no problem working for females. He’d reported to female commanders. They were every bit as competent as the men, some more so. Then why did it bother him that Reggie Davis was female?

Because when he’d turned her over on the ground and stared down into those startling blue eyes, he’d taken a hit straight to his gut. The woman was everything he’d resigned himself to forget. She was strong, yet feminine and sexy as hell in blue jeans and a cowboy hat.

What woman would want a broken man like him? What did he have to offer? Crippled and plagued with PTSD flashbacks, he’d be more effort than he was worth. He wouldn’t wish himself on anyone. Especially not a lone female trying to run a ranch all by herself. She didn’t need the added burden.

The soft touch of her skin lingered with him, reminding him that he hadn’t been with a woman since before he’d left for his last deployment to Afghanistan. Oh, there’d been doctors, nurses and physical therapists hovering around him for months, but that was different. They’d only touched him because it was their job, and he hadn’t been in the least interested in them. How could he be? Up until he’d left rehab, and even now, he still experienced blinding residual and phantom pain from his injury.

His leg throbbed. He really needed to get off it and put it up for a while. He hadn’t had to stand for hours in a long time. Working a ranch would prove difficult at best. But it beat sitting around feeling sorry for himself.

He found leather oil in the tack room and spent time oiling the leather on the girth straps and rubbing it into the saddle. The longer he waited, the less time he’d have to spend in the company of others.

Fifteen minutes after Reggie had left him in the barn, a door opened and closed. He sat quietly, hoping whoever it was would leave him alone.

From his position inside the tack room, Angus heard the shuffle of footsteps but couldn’t tell who was there until a small boy appeared in the doorway.

He had longish dark brown hair, brown eyes and a pale little face. He must be the son Reggie had referred to, though he didn’t look much like her.

For several long moments he stood, staring at Angus rubbing oil into the saddle leather. “Are you a real cowboy?” he finally asked.

Angus glanced across at the boy. “I don’t know. What is a real cowboy?”

The boy promptly answered, “A man who wears a cowboy hat and rides a horse.”

Angus glanced at the cowboy hat sitting on the workbench beside him. “That’s my hat.”

The boy considered the hat and then Angus. “Do you ride horses?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you must be a cowboy.”

“I guess you have a point.” Angus set the rag and oil aside and replaced the saddle on the saddletree. “Does your mother know where you are?”

The boy shrugged. “I come out here all the time.”

“In the dark?”

He dipped his head. “No, but I know my way back.”

“How about you and I go back together?”

The boy seemed to think about it and then raised his hand.

Angus captured the hand in his, marveling at how small and trusting the child was. Unused to small children, Angus held the boy’s hand, swallowing the tiny fingers with his own.

“Have you had supper yet?” Angus asked.

“No, sir. Mrs. Jo asked me to come get you. It’s almost six o’clock.”

“Then we’d better get going or we’ll be late for dinner.”

They exited the barn together, Angus closing the door behind them.

“What’s your name?” the boy asked as he walked alongside Angus, trying to match his short strides to Angus’s longer ones.

“Angus.”

“Angus.” The boy tipped his head. “Isn’t that a cow?”

Angus grinned. “A kind of cow.”

Nodding, the boy trotted along a little farther before saying, “My name is Tad.”

“Nice to meet you, Tad.”

He had to admit, a strange feeling came over him as he walked with the boy at his side. It felt right. How, he didn’t know. But he liked answering the boy’s questions. The kid was polite, curious and instilled powerful protective instincts in Angus.

The child had pluck. He didn’t ask Angus to slow down, taking three steps for every one of Angus’s long, if gimpy, strides.

When they finally reached the porch, the boy ran up the steps and turned to face him. “Could you teach me how to ride a horse like a cowboy?”

“I could,” he said, wondering what his mother would say about him promising to teach the boy to ride.

As he mounted the steps, Angus’s brows furrowed.

A woman, a kid and two old people on their own on a ranch in the hills. And someone had planted a snake where the woman was bound to ride. Although it was a fake snake, it had accomplished its mission. The horse had spooked, the rider had fallen. Whether it was a practical joke or had malicious connotations was pure conjecture.

CW seemed a pretty down-to-earth old man. He would not have called his old friend Hank for help if he wasn’t convinced Reggie Davis was in trouble.

Angus’s gut told him the situation bore watching. Even a man with only one good leg would be better than no one. But he would put in a call to the head of Covert Cowboys Inc. Reggie and her small son deserved someone more capable of taking care of them.