Читать книгу The Rough and Ready Rancher - Kathie DeNosky - Страница 9

“What in God’s name are you doing on the floor?” Flint roared.

He levered himself to a sitting position. The light of the moon, shining through the part in the curtains, illuminated Jenna’s still form and the thin line of blood trickling down the side of her face. His heart stalled right then and there. He couldn’t tell the extent of her injuries, but clasping her shoulders, he hauled her up into his arms.

“I’m…warning you…McCray—” she took a deep breath “—if this keeps up, I’m going to demand hazardous-duty pay in addition to my regular fee.”

“Did you see or hear someone?” he asked, cradling her to his bare chest.

“No.”

Her warm breath against his skin sent a shiver snaking down his spine and a fire burning at his gut. Damned if she didn’t feel made to fit his arms. He cleared his throat to get words past the cotton clogging his throat. “Then why did you scream?”

“I have a tendency to do that when people shoot at me.”

“Shoot at you? You mean, you thought…” Relieved, he couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud. “That was Whiskers’s truck backfiring.” Remembering the blood, he sobered instantly and tightened his embrace. “Where are you hurt?”

“My hand. I hit it on something when I rolled out of bed.”

Flint had a hard time concentrating on what she said. Her small, scantily clad body felt wonderful, and the intensity of his reaction stunned him. He was overwhelmingly, completely, undeniably aroused. And it had almost been instantaneous.

He shook his head and tried to ignore his mounting desire. He had to have just set some kind of record. A man of thirty-three wasn’t over-the-hill by any means, but he for damn sure wasn’t a randy teenager with nothing but seething hormones racing through his veins. Over the years he should have gained at least a modicum of restraint.

Distracted by his changing body, it took him a minute to realize Jenna was pushing against him. He got to his feet and pulled her up with him. “Let’s see about your hand.”

Pulling her out into the hall, he turned on the overhead light and gulped back a groan when his eyes adjusted to the brightness. Here he stood, harder than the Rock of Gibraltar, gazing down at the half-naked woman responsible for his almost painful state. Now how was a man supposed to ignore a situation like that? It would take a saint or a blind man to overlook the possibilities. And Flint was neither.

He cursed under his breath and tried to ignore the outline of her nipples pushing at the thin fabric of her T-shirt. He normally considered T-shirts shapeless and unappealing. But this one draped her to perfection and made him want to run his hands under the hem, to expose every inch of her to his hungry eyes.

That wouldn’t take much, he decided. The damned thing barely covered her panties and exposed enough delectable skin to send his blood pressure up fifty points.

Sounding like the pop-off valve on a pressure cooker, he expelled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The phrase, Calf Ropers Like It Tied Up, printed across the front of the garment had his imagination running wild and his body right along with it.

“Wait here,” he said, his voice more harsh than he intended. He forced himself to move toward his room. It wasn’t her fault his imagination already had them all but experiencing the throes of passion. But her eyes had perused his body like a lover’s caress, and heaven help him he’d loved every minute of it.

Jenna watched Flint walk down the hall to his room. When he turned on the light, it had taken all of her strength to keep from staring at his perfectly sculpted chest and washboard stomach. A thin coat of dark-brown hair covered muscles made hard by years of physical labor, and from his tan she would bet he often removed his shirt while he worked.

She swallowed hard when she remembered the narrow, dark line arrowing down below his navel to draw attention to the open snap at the waistband of his well-worn jeans. Jeans that hung low on lean hips and emphasized the fact that he was all male and thoroughly aroused.

She was only seconds away from having to fan herself when he walked back into the hall, jamming the tail of his shirt into the waistband of his jeans.

“Put this on,” he ordered, shoving a robe into her hands.

The fabric caught on a large splinter protruding from her palm, causing her to wince.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Let’s go see to your hand.”

“What about Ryan?” she asked, belting the robe.

Flint took her by the elbow to usher her toward the stairs. “His room is on the other side of the house. I was checking on him when you screamed. He’s so active during the day, by bedtime he could sleep through an all-out war.”

When they entered the office, Jenna sat in the chair across from Flint’s desk and held her hand out for his inspection. “It’s just a splinter. No big deal.”

He whistled low. “It looks like a log.” Retrieving the first aid kit from his desk, Flint took her hand in his. He examined the wound, his large hand dwarfing hers. She knew she shouldn’t, but she liked the contrast.

“Have you had a tetanus shot recently?” he asked, his attention on her hand.

“I make sure I keep all my immunizations current.” His hands engulfed hers as he worked to remove the splinter and she wondered how they would feel caressing her—

“Ouch!” Her erotic thoughts shattered when he continued to probe for any traces of wood he might have missed. “What are you trying to do, McCray? Drill for oil?”

He poured hydrogen peroxide over the area, applied an antiseptic ointment, then wrapped her hand in gauze. “I think I got it all, but it’ll probably be sore for the next few days.”

Jenna glanced up when he continued to hold her hand. Their gazes locked and the charge of excitement coursing between them took her breath. When he took an antiseptic pad and sponged the blood from her cheek, she wondered if she’d ever breathe again. Shaken by the feel of his hand caressing hers, the gentleness he displayed wiping her face, she jerked her hand from his.

“Why do I get the idea you wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had fired shots at us?” she asked, cursing her breathless tone.

Jenna settled back into the armchair to focus her attention on Flint. She wasn’t going anywhere until she had an explanation. Besides, at the moment, she seriously doubted her legs would support her.

“You might as well tell me what’s going on. I have a right to know.”

“It’s none of your business.”

She jerked her thumb toward the door. “What happened upstairs just made it my business. You weren’t altogether sure I hadn’t seen someone. If I’m going to have to be looking over my shoulder, I’d like to know why. It’s something I don’t take lightly.” She gave him a pointed look. “And I don’t think you do, either.”

Flint slumped into the chair behind his desk and ran a weary hand over his face. If their positions were reversed, he’d be pounding on the desk, demanding an explanation.

But her calm demeanor unsettled him, and suspicion began to cloud his mind. Could Jenna already be familiar with the situation? Was she somehow involved in stealing his cattle? Why hadn’t she been hysterical when she thought someone was shooting at her? Nicole would have been. Hell, his ex-wife went off the deep end when she broke a fingernail.

“We’ve had some trouble with rustlers,” he stated, watching for her reaction.

“Spreads the size of the Rocking M will always be targets of cattle thieves,” she said. “But rustlers usually steer clear of a ranch headquarters. Besides, stealing cattle is one thing. Prowling around an occupied house is an entirely different matter. And that’s exactly what you thought had happened.”

“It’s just been the past couple of days that things have started getting ugly.” He searched for any indication she might be aware of the situation. When he found none, he continued, “Last night they castrated a twenty-five-thousand-dollar bull.”

She sat forward, her eyes wide. “Why wasn’t an animal that valuable closer to the house?”

“He was. Somehow he managed to get through two locked gates and across a six-hundred-acre pasture.”

“He had help,” she said flatly. “Have any other ranchers had similar problems?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“This is more than just a case of cattle rustling,” she stated. “It sounds like someone is trying to seek revenge.”

“But I’ll be damned if I can figure out who it is or why they’re doing it,” he agreed. He wasn’t used to talking with a woman about his ranching problems. Nicole had never cared what went on as long as the money kept rolling in.

“Have you checked with the state brand inspectors?” she asked. “They should be able to tell you who brought the cattle into the stockyards. Maybe you could catch them that way.”

Flint propped his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his hands in front of him. She certainly knew enough about the workings of the cattle industry to implicate her, but then so did most people used to being around livestock. And her shock at the mutilation of the bull seemed genuine.

Jenna Adams was either a damned good actress or innocent of any involvement. One way or the other, he’d know for sure when the investigator finished running a check on her background.

“Of course I’ve notified the authorities,” he answered. “But the only cattle with the Rocking M brand that have gone through any of the yards are the ones I’ve sent.”

She arched a brow. “Then where are they? They didn’t just vanish into thin air.”

“The sheriff found some hides bearing our brand in a remote area about seventy-five miles from here,” Flint answered. “From all indications, the rustlers are butchering the cattle in the back of a refrigerated trailer. By the time they reach the packing house, the beef is dressed out.”

“No hides. No evidence,” she said, nodding. “But what about the USDA? Why haven’t they caught the uninspected beef?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? It could be an inspector on the take or a packing house with a counterfeit stamp.”

He left his chair. “Either way, it doesn’t make much difference. After the events of last night, I’d say they’re getting impatient. It’s just a matter of time now before they screw up.” His voice grew cold, his smile deadly. “And when they do, I’ll be there to nail the bastards.”

As she rose to her feet, a shiver ran the length of Jenna’s spine. She wouldn’t want to be in the rustlers’ boots when he caught up with them. One look into those intense brown eyes told her Flint McCray could be a very dangerous adversary.

She felt Flint’s gaze boring a hole into her back as she climbed the stairs and entered her room. In his eyes, she knew no one was above suspicion. Not even her.

But that didn’t matter. He could think whatever he liked. But if she’d known he had this kind of problem on his hands, she might not have been so insistent that he honor their contract.

She shook her head and immediately dismissed the thought. Running from trouble was a coward’s way out.

And no one had ever been able to call Jenna Adams a coward.

“I tell ya, Jed, I thought I had that truck fixed or I’d a never loaned it to you last night,” Whiskers said, wiping the counter. “If Flint hadn’t said it scared Jenna into hurtin’ herself when it backfired, I’d a sworn you made it up.”

“Believe me,” Jenna said, entering the kitchen. “It happened.”

“Mornin’, Miss Adams.” Jed pointed to her bandaged hand. “After what happened last night, I’ll bet you’re just about ready to cut your losses and run.”

She shook her head and sat down to a delicious-looking plate of biscuits and gravy. “It’ll take more than a splinter to keep me from training a potential champion.”

“Flint said you got hurt,” Whiskers said, worriedly. “Maybe you’d better not try to work with Satin this mornin’.”

Touched by his concern, Jenna smiled and held out her bandaged hand for his inspection. “I’ll be fine. I’ve worked with much worse injuries than this.”

“I just don’t like the idea of a little gal like you climbin’ in the corral with that black devil,” Whiskers stated, picking up Jed’s plate to scrape the contents.

“Hey, I’m not finished,” Jed complained.

Whiskers placed the plate in the sink. “Yes, you are.”

Jed started to protest, but stopped when a gnarled finger pointed his direction.

“Somebody has to keep track of the vittles you poke down, cause it’s for danged sure you don’t know when to push away from the table.” The old man propped his hands on his hips. “The rest of the men finished up fifteen minutes ago. Now, get your shiftless butt outta here so I can get my work done.”

Jed jumped to his feet. “If you keep mean-mouthin’ people, somebody’s gonna tear your head off and shout down the hole.”

“Then who’d feed your worthless carcass?” Whiskers asked.

“That’s the only thing holdin’ me back, old man.” Jed grabbed his hat and walked through the door.

Shaken by the man’s obvious anger, Jenna’s appetite deserted her. “I’m not very hungry, Whiskers.” She rose from the table. “But thanks, anyway.”

“You cain’t be done.” When she nodded, he threw up his hands. “No wonder you’re such a puny little thing.”

“She has to be wiry and quick to work with horses like Satin,” Flint said, walking into the room.

Jenna ducked her head to conceal her astonishment. That wasn’t the argument he’d used yesterday when he tried to break their contract. He’d accused her of not having the strength to work with his horse, or any others, for that matter. What had changed his mind?

She decided to ignore the comment. All her concentration needed to be focused on Satin and his training. If she allowed her mind to wander while she worked with the stallion, she could confirm Flint’s first observation. And she’d rather run naked through a briar patch than let that happen.

She adjusted the shotgun chaps she’d put on before coming downstairs. “Speaking of Satin, I’d better get started.”

Flint’s mouth went dry when he noticed the way the leather hugged Jenna’s slender thighs and framed her blue-jeans-clad buttocks. He shifted from one foot to the other and swallowed hard. It was all he could do to keep from reaching for her.

For the life of him, he couldn’t forget what had taken place last night on the porch and in the hall. Her legs had felt incredible tangled with his when he’d kissed her. And the memory of her, half-naked, lying in his arms on the floor, had already driven him to a cold shower this morning.

Flint observed the way the open seat of the chaps emphasized the movement of her firm little bottom as she walked toward the back door. He thought his mouth might drop open.

“Dinner’s at twelve,” Whiskers called after her. His eyes dancing merrily, his toothless grin wide, he turned back to Flint. “Unless the big bad wolf gets ahold of her first.”

It took every ounce of effort Flint could muster to keep from turning a deep crimson. He should have known Whiskers would notice his discomfort. The old man had the eyes of a hawk.

Whiskers laughed. “I’m glad to see you takin’ an interest in that little filly. She’s a danged sight more tolerable than the one you used to be hitched up to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Flint lied. He removed his hat from the peg beside the door. “I have no interest in Miss Adams aside from her training Black Satin.”

“Is that why you look like you’re gonna make her your next meal?”

Flint turned to glare at his housekeeper. “Dammit, Whiskers. I don’t—”

“Save it, boy. I’ve had the oven on this mornin’ and there’s already plenty of hot air in this kitchen.” Whiskers moved to the table to stack plates. “If I was forty years younger, I’d lasso her myself. Mark my words, that little gal’s a keeper if ever I seen one.”

“I have no intention of keeping her or any other woman.” Flint’s scowl deepened. “If you’ll remember, I gave it a try and it turned out to be a disaster.”

Whiskers waved a spoon at Flint. “Any time you play with a wildcat, you’re bound to get scratched. I told you about that woman before you ever got yourself hitched up to her. She’s the very reason you’re gun-shy now.”

“I’m not gun-shy.” Flint shook his head. “I just don’t intend to make the same mistake twice. That’s all.”

“There ain’t no way you could with Jenna.”

“Just when did you become an expert on women?”

Whiskers put the dishes in the sink and poured them each a cup of coffee. Motioning for Flint to take a seat, he lowered himself into a chair on the opposite side of the big oak table. “You can tell a quarter horse from a Thoroughbred, cain’t you?”

Flint knew he should let the matter drop, but instead of walking away, he sat down. “What do horses have to do with women?”

Whiskers grinned. “Jenna’s like a quarter horse—”

Flint laughed. “I’m sure she’d be flattered by the comparison.”

“Are you gonna shut your trap and listen?”

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“Well, like I was sayin’, she’s pretty, but she’s got a lot of heart, too. She don’t let things make her skittish when there’s a job to be done.” Whiskers nodded. “Yessiree, when the chips are down, she’d be right there givin’ all she had and wouldn’t give up until she couldn’t go no more—just like a quarter horse.” The old man’s voice took on a disgusted tone. “On the other hand, Nicole was a true Thoroughbred. A real beauty to look at, but flighty and temperamental as hell. Give her a cross-eyed stare and she couldn’t even make it to the startin’ gate, let alone run the race.”

“But there’s one thing you’re forgetting,” Flint reminded him.

Puzzled, Whiskers scratched his beard. “What?”

“I don’t need a woman. I’m happy with my life. I have Ryan and the ranch—”

“Horse spit! You and Ryan rattle around this place like BBs in a boxcar. A house this size needs a whole passel of kids. And you need a little gal like Jenna to cozy up to so you can get ’em.”

His cup halfway to his mouth, Flint stopped to glare at the old man. “Have you lost your mind, Whiskers? I just met the woman yesterday.”

“And you’ve been in a hot fizz ever since,” Whiskers shot back.

Flint gritted his teeth, then lied right through them. “I have not. As far as I’m concerned, Jenna Adams is an employee—the same as Brad or any of the others.”

Whiskers shook his head and got to his feet to start the dishes. “I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d be callin’ Flint McCray a liar.”

Without a word, Flint placed his cup on the table, rose from his chair and left the house. He stopped in the middle of the ranch yard, his hands clenched into tight fists. He took a deep breath in order to calm himself.

But in all honesty, being called a liar wasn’t what had Flint’s anger close to the boiling point. It was the truth in Whiskers’s words. The old man’s observations had been right on the money. He had been tied in knots since Jenna’s arrival. And Flint didn’t like at all that it was so damned obvious.

Jenna shortened the lunge line until Satin became more manageable. She loped him in a tight circle around her for a few more minutes, then tied him to a post for grooming. She recognized the signs of an active mind and an over-abundance of energy. But unlike some horses she’d trained, he wasn’t rebellious and difficult.

He did have a tendency to become aggressive and try to charge when excited or frightened, but she knew it stemmed more from him being a stallion and pasture raised, than from a hatred of humans. Once he learned there was nothing to fear, she would train him to channel his spirited nature into a constructive pattern and turn him into a champion reining horse.

“Hi,” she said when she noticed Flint standing at the fence. She’d wondered how long it would take him to check on the progress she was making with his prized stallion.

“How did it go this morning?” he asked after she’d turned the horse into the small pasture behind the corral.

“Pretty good.” She coiled the rope she held. “He has a lot of potential.”

“He seems to have settled well.”

“High-energy horses usually do, if you can keep them from getting bored.” She turned to watch the stallion gallop across the pasture. “That’s why I prefer a varied program for horses like Satin. His temperament can’t tolerate the monotony of constant drilling exercises.”

“What do you have planned this afternoon?”

“Nothing.” She let herself out of the enclosure. “He’s had enough for now. Tomorrow I’ll repeat what he’s learned today and introduce a new activity or two.” She shrugged. “The next day I may only work with him for a half hour or so.”

Flint scowled. “Isn’t that wasting time?”

“No.” She started for the house. “It’s a precaution.”

He caught her by the arm. “Since my money is paying for this, would you care to elaborate?”

Jenna felt the tingling begin where his hand clasped her upper arm, then make a beeline to the pit of her belly. Why did he have to do that? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone and let her do her job?

Her gaze locked with Flint’s a moment before she pried his fingers, one by one, from her arm and turned to walk away.

“You didn’t answer me. I want to know why you’re wasting the afternoon.”

She needed to escape his disturbing presence in order to regain her equilibrium. But Mr. Can’t-Leave-Well-Enough-Alone wasn’t about to cooperate.

She turned to face him, her voice terse. “Satin has a high mental energy as well as physical. That has to be taken into account when planning his training.” When Flint’s scowl deepened, she blew out an exasperated breath. “Wouldn’t you say you’re a person with a lot of drive?”