Читать книгу Tough To Tame - Jackie Merritt - Страница 8

Carly unhooked her seat belt with her gaze on the tall man coming forth. He had to be Jake Banyon, but he wasn’t at all what she’d expected. How had she gotten the impression that the ranch’s manager was much older? She was approaching thirty, and Banyon looked to be about the same. On top of that surprise was another: he was good-looking! Taking in his long, lean body clad in snug, faded jeans and a blue work shirt, and the ruggedly handsome—though hard—features of his face, Carly felt an unmistakably sexual flutter in the pit of her stomach.

The sensation startled then angered her, and she set her lips into a thin, grim line. This visit just might be cut very short, she thought resentfully, although she had packed for a long stay just in case she happened to like the ranch. Dad could have told me Banyon was young and good-looking. Why didn’t he ever mention it?

The pilot hopped out of his side of the copter, called a hello to Jake and then opened the door for Carly. She put her feet on the ground just as Jake walked up, took off his hat with one hand and offered the other.

“Jake Banyon,” he said tonelessly and without a smile. “Welcome to Wild Horse Ranch.”

“Thank you,” Carly said stiffly, giving his hand a quick shake and then pulling hers back as though she had just touched something poisonous. Actually, the warmth and life of his working man’s calloused hand had sent shock waves through her system that nearly caused her to panic right in Banyon’s face.

Good Lord, she thought in the next uneasy breath, except for the sniffing and smelling we are sizing each other up like two strange dogs!

It was true. Jake was shaken because Carly was tall and slender, with stunning green eyes and long dark hair. He’d hoped—ardently—that she would be ordinary, ‘very ordinary’, and she wasn’t. She was appealingly female and would stand out in any crowd.

Carly’s thoughts were similar and horribly perturbing. Banyon had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, a head of almost black hair and darkly tanned skin. There was no warmth in those incredible eyes, but even cold and guarded they were drop-dead gorgeous. She’d been so positive that she would not be affected by a man for a long, long time and here she was feeling feverish and giddy around a damn cowboy. It was totally unacceptable, and any remnants of panic she’d felt a minute ago vanished and were replaced by a defiant determination to remain on her family’s ranch for as long as she wanted. No way was she going to let a good-looking cowboy scare her off.

The pilot was taking luggage from the cargo compartment and setting the suitcases on the ground. It was a nice, safe subject, and Jake used it to get himself thinking about something other than Carly’s long legs and impressive figure, displayed nicely but provocatively—he thought—in a pair of fitted jeans and a blue-and-red striped shirt.

“I’m going to move your luggage away from the copter,” he said. “Then I’ll walk you up to the house. I’ll have a couple of the men bring in your suitcases.”

Carly almost said, “Walking me to the house won’t be necessary. I’m sure I can find it on my own.” But she stopped herself in time and murmured instead, “That will be fine.” As Jake walked over to the pilot and luggage, Carly whispered, “That nicety was for you, Dad.” It wasn’t Banyon’s fault that his good looks and age unnerved her, and neither could she condemn her father for not better describing Banyon during conversations about the ranch and Wyoming. Dad probably hasn’t even noticed that Jake is good-looking, and why would he?

Truth was, she thought uneasily, she could tell that she was as much of a surprise for Jake as he was for her. This was not a comfortable situation for either of them. She knew about the bunkhouse and that Jake was the only person occupying the house. She knew about the cookhouse and that the men took their meals in an attached dining room. Her father had—at least—emphasized those points again, in case she’d forgotten past discussions, and he’d told her that she could eat with the men or prepare her own meals in the house, whichever she preferred. His final advice had been to “relax and enjoy yourself, honey.”

Carly turned to scan the peaceful green fields that stretched for miles in every direction, then the foothills to the west and finally the mountainous horizon. One would have to look long and hard for a more perfect place in which to relax, but something told her that she would have found relaxation much easier to attain if Banyon had been twenty years older, bald and bowlegged.

She lowered her eyebrows, frowning over her own narrowed eyes as she contemplated her unexpected and extremely unwelcome physical reactions to Jake Banyon. She was positive she would be as irate over an attraction to any man at this stage of her life. She needed more time to heal, for God’s sake. The emotional wounds from her frightening farce of a marriage were barely scarred over, and in all honesty the mere thought of romance made her shudder. Romance was merely an illusion, anyhow, she now believed, a short-term ploy that men used to get women right where they wanted them. Once that was accomplished and men started showing their true colors, their women had better watch out.

Heaving a sigh, Carly pushed those dreadful thoughts from her mind and looked at Banyon and the pilot moving her luggage a safe distance from the helicopter. She decided then and there that however magnetic she found Banyon to be, he was never going to know about it, primarily because she was not going to let a meaningless physical attraction override her common sense. She wasn’t ready for anything but the most distant of friendships with any member of the opposite sex, and until she was ready, this and any other relationship with a man would be chilly indeed.

The two men shook hands, the pilot called a goodbye to her and returned to the cabin of his aircraft. Carly moved away from the copter and stood near her suitcases.

Jake walked up. “Your things will be fine here for a few minutes. Let’s go up to the house now.”

“All right.” She spoke without really looking at him, and she began walking when he did. The helicopter took off, and the turbulence caused by the rotors tossed her hair around. Smoothing it down, she chanced a quick glance at Banyon. “I hope this visit is not too much of an intrusion,” she said coolly.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Sounds like you are,” she said bluntly.

“I’m what?”

“Worried. Well, don’t be. I promise to stay out of your hair.”

Can you? Are you capable of entertaining yourself and staying out of everyone’s way? Jake doubted it. The ranch was not going to be the same during Carly’s visit, and there was no pretending otherwise.

But that was something he’d known before her arrival. What he hadn’t anticipated or foreseen was the heart-pounding, throat-drying, gut-wrenching awareness in his own system caused by this woman. Not that he would do anything about it even if he wanted to, which he didn’t, for his own peace of mind. But she was Stuart’s daughter, for crying out loud. And even if he were the most dedicated of womanizers—as he’d once been—he would not touch his employer’s daughter. It was more than that, though; he respected Stuart far too much to risk offending him by making a pass at his daughter.

All of those surprising feelings and thoughts aside, however, Jake felt an obligation to make Stuart’s daughter feel welcome. “You’re not an intrusion, and I’m not worried about anything. In fact, I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay.”

She didn’t believe a word of it. Tone of voice was so much more telling than words, and he really sounded as though he’d just eaten some sour grapes. The truth came to her in a flash. Banyon had agreed to her visiting the ranch because her father had put it to him in a way he hadn’t been able to gracefully refuse.

Carly was thinking of the bond between her dad and Jake Banyon when he asked, “How was your trip?”

In Carly’s opinion that was one of those questions people asked when they didn’t know what else to say. But it indicated that he was trying to make the best of things, and could she do any less?

“Long,” she said a bit dryly, then remembered that it hadn’t all been boring. “The helicopter ride was enjoyable, and let me ask you about something I saw from the air when we were approaching the ranch. Two men on horseback were chasing a third horse. Or they appeared to be chasing it. Do you know what was going on?”

Jake abruptly stopped walking to stare at her. “Was the third horse black?”

What a peculiar reaction to a simple question, Carly thought. She certainly had gotten his full attention with it. Standing her ground, she stared back, though he really didn’t seem to notice. Apparently he was still intent on the third horse, which seemed odd to Carly.

Still, he was obviously anxious about her reply, so she didn’t keep him waiting. “The third horse was black as pitch, and probably one of the most beautiful horses I’ve ever seen,” she recited, wondering if that was the information he was seeking.

“That damned devil stallion!” Jake’s eyes bore an angry light. “He’s getting bolder. I sure hope those men you saw captured him.”

“What?” Carly’s confusion showed on her face. “Did he escape…or something?”

“Escape! He doesn’t belong to this ranch. He doesn’t belong to anybody, as far as I can tell. He’s wild as a March wind, and he’s stealing our mares.”

Carly frowned. “I don’t get it. I mean, are wild horses common around here?”

“They used to be,” Jake said grimly. “The story is that about a hundred years ago a cavalry unit turned a bunch of horses loose in this part of Wyoming. The herd multiplied for a while, then began dying out. I haven’t heard of anyone spotting any of those mustangs in years. Then, out of the blue, that black stallion showed up and started gathering himself a harem of our best mares.”

Jake started walking again, and Carly hurried to keep stride. “I still don’t understand,” she said. “I’ve read about wild horses and seen pictures of them, and that stallion doesn’t look at all like the mustangs in those photos.”

“I know he doesn’t. He looks like he comes from good stock, but I’ve tried everything I know to locate his owner, with no luck. The only conclusion I’ve been able to come up with is that a mustang mated with a mare of good lineage and the result was that stallion.”

“I guess that theory makes sense,” Carly murmured, intrigued by the “mystery” stallion and where he’d come from. “And he’s been collecting a harem, as you put it?”

“He’s already managed to lure away five of our mares.”

“Is he luring mares from other ranches, as well?”

“Not that I’ve heard.”

He’d spoken so curtly, so brusquely, that Carly sent him a quick, curious glance. Banyon struck her as one of those people who would rather stew silently than talk about a problem. And while he’d already had the wild stallion problem to deal with before today, her arrival had obviously given him another one. She sensed that he would rather not talk about the stallion, but she really didn’t care what he preferred. Her curiosity had been piqued and she wanted to know everything he did.

“Would you say that he considers this ranch his home territory?” she asked.

“God only knows,” Jake muttered.

“Well, this is a huge ranch. Maybe he was born here.”

“It’s possible.”

Carly was positive that he’d grunted those two words. Obviously the topic unnerved Banyon, and so did her insistence on talking about it. But they had clashed at first sight, she told herself, so why worry now about soothing the savage beast, so to speak? Banyon seemed to be as untamed as this country, a raw, ill-bred, boringly macho guy whose favorite pastimes probably included tractor pulls and those perfectly awful arena shows where men driving old clunker cars deliberately ran into each other.

Besides, she really didn’t care if Banyon liked her or not, though it was not something she’d thought about before meeting him, and if she wanted to say something, she’d do it.

“Well,” she drawled, “I guess this ranch is appropriately named.”

Jake sent her a look of utter disgust. “Losing good mares to a rogue stallion is not funny.”

“No, but it is interesting. Wild Horse Ranch is being stormed by a wild stallion. Yes, I find that quite interesting. Tell me, if and when you capture him, what will you do with him?”

“Some of the men think we should shoot him.”

Carly’s eyes got huge from shock. “You wouldn’t! Does Dad know about this?”

“He knows.” They had finally reached the lawn around the house. Jake had had enough conversation about that stallion and, in fact, was anxious to deposit Carly in the house so he could go and find the men who had been chasing that devil. It would be an incredible stroke of luck if they’d caught him.

Carly still wasn’t through with the subject, however. “I can’t believe Dad would agree to killing such a beautiful animal, just because he’s a nuisance,” she said with distinct disapproval.

Jake stopped walking and faced her. He spoke gruffly, impatiently. “Let me set the record straight. First of all, I said some of the men think we should shoot that horse. I didn’t say how I felt about it. Second, that stallion is not just a nuisance. He’s a damn thief, and as long as he’s running wild he’s going to keep on increasing his herd of mares. Do you think a rancher should ignore the loss of valuable horses? Your father doesn’t think so, and neither do I.” Spinning on his heel, Jake headed for the house.

Carly ran to catch up. “So you’re not going to shoot him?”

“I didn’t say that, either,” Jake growled, surprising himself with a comment that indicated he might decide to shoot the stallion, when, in fact, he’d never once considered that option. He was not an animal killer, never had been. He didn’t even like hunting. But that stallion had him on edge, Carly herself had him on edge, and he wished to high heaven that she would just stop talking about it.

She knew what he wished, which was kind of strange as reading other people’s minds was not a common occurrence for her. But Banyon’s annoyance was so obvious. He actually looked pained, as though she or some unseen thing was sticking pins into him.

Well, that was just tough. No one was going to shoot that horse while she was here, and Banyon might as well know from the get-go how she felt about it. Besides, she didn’t particularly like the tone of voice he was using with her, as though no one but him even had a right to an opinion about that stallion.

“Maybe I should also set the record straight,” she said coolly. “I didn’t come here with any intentions of questioning your authority on any aspect of the operation of this ranch. You and Dad apparently have a mutually acceptable working agreement, which I fully intended to honor. But I will not sit by calmly and permit you or anyone else to shoot a horse that is only doing what his nature demands.”

They had reached the stairs to the front porch. Jake stopped in his tracks and turned to her with his eyes narrowed, thinking, so she is the kind of woman to throw her weight around! And, as galling as it was, she had a right. Or she would have someday, when she inherited the ranch.

In the meantime, he took his orders from her dad—on the rare occasion when Stuart Paxton issued an order—and Carly might as well understand right now that he would not put up with interference from her or anyone other than Stuart about how he ran the ranch.

“Exactly what would you do about it if we did shoot that stallion?” Jake asked in a chilling, challenging voice.

Carly hadn’t expected to be so openly challenged, and her heart sank a little. But then she lifted her chin. A confrontation with Banyon within fifteen minutes of her arrival was startling, but if she didn’t stand her ground now she would look spineless and without convictions and standards strong enough to fight for. It was the way she’d behaved during her marriage, and she had vowed to never again permit a man to ride roughshod over feelings she had every right to possess.

But her next thought—Jake Banyon was nothing like her ex. Banyon, in fact, might not be like anyone she’d ever known—made her wonder if open warfare with him was wise.

Still, should she cower and withdraw from a serious issue just because Banyon had an overwhelming personality?

She stood her ground and said in a voice every bit as challenging as Jake’s, “I’m sure there are laws against killing animals you don’t own.”

“There are also laws permitting ranchers to protect the animals they do own from predators,” Jake snapped. The anger in his system alarmed him, and he had to ask himself what was causing it, the topic under debate or Carly’s pretty face and blatant sexuality. He didn’t deserve this, dammit, he didn’t. He’d sown his wild oats years ago and he didn’t need any reminders that he’d been living without sex for a long time. Living contentedly, for a fact. Now, this very minute, his body was stirring in ways he’d practically forgotten and sure hadn’t missed.

Jake told himself to calm down, to tell Carly that he never had planned to kill that stallion, which would stop this ridiculous controversy here and now. But when he opened his mouth to enlighten her, he heard himself saying instead, speaking harshly, “I’ve got work to do. Let’s go inside and get this over with.”

Carly almost gasped out loud. Banyon’s rudeness was insulting and infuriating, and she took a deep breath to thwart the torrent of angry words she would have loved to lay on him. But while she managed to control the worst of her ire, she couldn’t stop herself from giving him a venomous look, or from saying, “Believe me, I do not need your assistance to walk into this house. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but I’m not the complete moron you seem to think I am.” Brushing past him, she climbed the stairs and crossed the porch to the front door.

Jake stared after her. She certainly had a temper, he thought, while he tried to control his own. It was when he was striding away from the house that regret hit him hard and suddenly. That had been a stupid way to start Carly’s visit, especially when he had vowed to get along with her. What he probably should do was to return to the house, locate Carly and apologize.

But maybe she was the one who should do the apologizing, he decided in the next heartbeat, stubbornly continuing his walk to the barns while hoping those two men had captured that stallion. Dammit, he’d known a woman on the place would disrupt its peace—his peace—and he’d sure been right about that.

In this instance, though, being right didn’t make him feel better, and he wore a sour expression all the way to the barns.

Inside the house Carly came very close to completely forgetting that Jake Banyon even existed. It was the house from her childhood memories, but it was so sadly run-down that it broke her heart. Going from room to room on the first floor, she nostalgically touched things—the rocking chair near the living room fireplace that her grandfather had favored, and the old upright piano against a wall on which her grandmother had played merry tunes.

Carly’s troubled gaze swept the old wallpaper and worn furnishings. How could her father have let the house go to pot like this? Didn’t it mean anything to him?

But did she have a right to criticize anything her dad did or didn’t do with any part of the ranch, after what she’d done? Still, she’d only been a teenager when she’d decided not to return to Wyoming; why on earth had her dad let her get away with such bratty behavior?

Carly sighed. She knew why Stuart had let her get away with anything and everything while growing up. It was because her mother had died when she’d been too young to remember, and her father had tried to make it up to her.

The old house tugged at Carly’s heartstrings as she walked through the first floor rooms and realized that the place wasn’t even clean. There were huge dust motes in corners and under furniture, and from the musty odor she was noticing she would bet anything that the windows hadn’t been opened for fresh air in ages.

“Obviously Banyon could live in a pigsty and not be bothered by it,” she muttered as she entered the big old-fashioned kitchen. Positive that the refrigerator would contain moldy food, if any, she pulled open the door, then stood there and blinked at the laden shelves. And it was fresh food she was seeing, too, fresh milk, meat and vegetables.

“Odd,” she mumbled, staring at the array. Surely Banyon hadn’t gone out of his way to provide this food for her, had he? Of course, her dad might have asked him to stock the kitchen, just in case she would rather eat alone than with the men. Yes, that was something Stuart would think of doing. She certainly couldn’t imagine Banyon doing it without a nudge.

After checking the refrigerator for bottled water and finding none, Carly shut the door and went to locate a glass for a drink of tap water, which she doubted was drinkable, but what choice did she have?

The sink water was cold and delicious, and Carly stood at a window and had her drink. Something began niggling her; more than likely she had let her dad down by arguing with Banyon almost from the moment they’d set eyes on each other.

But how could she not have spoken her mind about that stallion? Shooting him would be a terrible crime, and she still felt that she would stop at nothing to see that it didn’t happen.

She would like to discuss this with her father and find out for herself how he felt about it, but wouldn’t that be a lot like tattling? Frowning, Carly decided that whatever problems she might have with Jake or his methods of operating the ranch during her stay, she should not cause a breach between Banyon and her father. Their relationship had worked very well for at least four years, and she’d been on the ranch no more than a half hour and already she could stir up trouble with a few words to her dad. She couldn’t let that happen. It would be unjustifiably selfish of her to let that happen, especially in light of the promises she’d made herself during the past year to not cause her father any more headaches.

Sighing heavily, Carly headed for the staircase to the second floor. She might as well pick a bedroom for herself. Someone would probably be bringing in her luggage at any moment.

Halfway up the stairs she went back down and found a telephone. Dialing her father’s private number, she left a message on his voice mail: “Hi, Dad, it’s me. I’m at the ranch and everything is fine. Hope your business trip to London is going well, though you probably only just got there. Anyway, call if and when you want, though don’t feel it’s necessary. We’ll talk when you have the time. Love you. Bye.”