Читать книгу Cattleman's Honor - Pamela Toth - Страница 10

Adam watched the woman’s cheeks turn pink as she absorbed his last statement, and he wondered whether he should have pandered to her assumption that he’d taken a personal interest in her. She was certainly pretty, even with those silly wire-rimmed glasses perched on her pert little nose and a streak of dust down one cheek, but he would prefer a woman who wasn’t quite so confident of her own appeal as to assume he’d followed her home like some lovesick pup.

“You’re here to buy my land?” she finally echoed, her death grip on the door relaxing enough for him to gently pry it back open. A frown marred her forehead. “But it’s not for sale.”

He’d come prepared to negotiate, and he refused to be distracted by the way her full lips shaped each word she spoke. “Everything’s for sale if the price is right,” he replied. “I’ll give you ten percent over what you paid Ed Johnson. Why don’t you let me come in, and we’ll finalize the deal right now.” He wasn’t sure what her connection was to the previous owner, but the only possible reason for her to buy the twenty-acre parcel, surrounded on three sides by Winchester land, was to turn a quick profit. Why else would she be here?

He’d actually taken a step forward before he realized she wasn’t exactly welcoming him into her home. Nor did she appear the least bit impressed by his offer.

“I might be able to go a little higher,” he admitted grudgingly, “but keep in mind that I’m probably the only interested buyer you’ve got, and my generosity only goes so far.”

“Why are you so determined to buy my piddling twenty acres?” she asked. “From what I’ve seen, there’s enough open land in this state to go around.”

Adam thought fast while he returned her stare. The reason for his interest was no secret. Why was she pretending ignorance? To throw him off guard?

“My brothers and I own The Running W,” he explained, fairly sure he was only repeating what she must already know. “Your land nearly cuts our spread in two, and it’s got water we need for our cattle.” His senses recognized her perfume from their last encounter, but the distraction was more irritating than enticing. “Let’s not dance around the campfire,” he added without bothering to conceal his impatience. “Name your price. I’ve got things to do.”

Removing her glasses and folding them carefully, she drew herself up to her full five and a half feet. The curls on top of her head quivered as she thrust out her chin. In its center was a shallow dent that looked as though it had been put there by a sculptor’s touch.

“What part of no didn’t you get?” she demanded. “My place is not for sale.”

Adam sighed. He didn’t have time for this. “Call me Adam,” he suggested. “And I didn’t catch your first name.”

“I didn’t throw it.”

Releasing his hold on the door, he folded his arms over his chest, lifted his brows and waited, a maneuver that worked as well with his fifteen-year-old daughter as it did with his ranch hands.

It didn’t work now. “Good day, Mr.—”

“Winchester!” he reminded her right before the door was shut firmly in his face. “Adam Winchester.” It took him a full ten seconds to realize he was staring at the painted panel like a fool. Once he’d recovered, he spun on his boot heel with a muttered oath and stomped back down the steps, irritated but undaunted.

Ultimately he’d get what he wanted. When it came to the ranch he usually did. He rarely misjudged an opponent. The little blonde with the big brown eyes might have distracted him temporarily, but she was no match for Winchester determination.

Halfway to his truck, Adam glanced over his shoulder in time to see the front curtain drop back into place. “I’ll be back,” he muttered as he settled his Resistol more firmly on his head. “We’re not done yet.”

Plastered against the wall next to the window where she’d ducked to avoid being caught gaping, Emily pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress a groan of embarrassment. What on God’s green earth had possessed her to jump to the narcissistic conclusion that Adam Winchester had tracked her down because he’d been dazzled by her feminine charms—and why had she humiliated herself further by telling him?

What must he be thinking? Thanks to her impetuousness, he’d have an amusing story to tell his cronies around the campfire, or wherever cowboys hung out these days. Perhaps it was the rustic saloon she and David had driven by on their arrival. The only thing that could have increased her embarrassment even more would have been for Winchester to catch her watching his departure with her nose pressed to the window.

Good thing that when it came to men with sexy eyes, a killer smile and great buns, Emily was immune—totally, terminally uninterested, especially when the man was also insufferably arrogant, assuming he could waltz in here and demand that she hand over to him this place she already loved.

If her little section of Colorado was so crucial to her neighbor’s operation, why hadn’t Mr. Johnson sold it to him instead of going to all the trouble of advertising out of state? When she’d bought the land, she’d had no idea anyone else would be interested, but it was obvious now that Adam Winchester would have paid more than she had.

Before accepting Emily’s offer, Mr. Johnson had insisted that she make him an unusual promise. He hadn’t given her an explanation for his request, and she’d been reluctant to pry, but after Adam Winchester’s visit today she was certainly curious. She doubted the promise was legally binding, but that didn’t matter. When she gave her word, she tried her best to keep it.

The whine of David’s motorbike cut through her thoughts like a chainsaw through butter. She opened the door as he pulled up beside the porch in a cloud of dust and killed the engine.

“How was school?” she asked when he’d removed his helmet.

David swung one long leg over the bike. He came up the steps without meeting her gaze, the helmet tucked under his arm. “It was okay,” he said in a flat voice as he brushed past her.

One of the reasons she’d agreed to let him ride his bike instead of catching the bus was that she’d hoped he’d get involved in some after-school activities. Unfortunately, nothing about the new school seemed to interest him so far, not the kids, his new classes or anything else.

“Do you want a snack?” she asked as she trailed after him into the house. Over the last few days, she’d managed to unpack most of their belongings and make the living room presentable, but she had no idea whether her son had even noticed her efforts.

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry,” he muttered. Before she could say anything else, he’d gone into his room and shut the door.

A teenage boy with no appetite? Something was seriously wrong. Emily sank onto the leather couch she’d brought from L.A. and stared at the opposite wall, which was blank. The house in Brentwood had been decorated by a big name interior designer Stuart had hired, but Emily planned to fix this one up herself. She’d hoped to enlist David’s help, but unless his attitude changed drastically, she couldn’t imagine him taking the slightest interest in picking out pictures and bric-a-brac.

She hadn’t done anything more about getting a dog, but she wanted to find one before she bought any livestock. She’d need a cat, too, once the remodeling in her workshop was completed. The contractor had promised to send a man out to repair the corral fencing next week. Fortunately, the small stable was sound. It would make a perfect home for the horses she planned to buy.

Emily hadn’t always been a city slicker. Growing up near Sacramento, she’d spent as much time as possible on horseback. Over the years she’d continued to ride on occasion. Stuart had never shared her interest—had even seemed to resent it—but she’d taught David to ride. His enthusiasm had waned in the past couple of years, but she hoped having horses of their own would revitalize it. He had to do something besides e-mailing his friends back home.

Meanwhile she removed the chicken from the refrigerator in order to fix his favorite dinner. It was nearly ready when he finally emerged from his room.

“Sweetie, would you set the table?” she asked as she mashed the potatoes.

Silently he complied, while Emily mounded the fluffy spuds into a bowl and fished around for something to talk about.

“Who was that guy I saw leaving right before I got home?” he asked, sparing her the trouble. “The one in the big black truck.”

As if they had so many visitors that he needed to be specific. “That was our neighbor, Adam Winchester,” she replied as she dished up some peas. “He made me an offer for this place.” As soon as the words were out, she wished she could recall them.

David froze in the middle of setting out flatware. “What did you tell him?” His hopeful tone made Emily wince.

She sighed. “We’re not selling.”

“Why not?” David demanded, his voice rising. “If you got your money back, we could go home where we belong.”

“We just got here,” Emily told him. “Won’t you please give Colorado a chance? Neither one of us belongs in L.A. any longer.”

He glowered at her, his knuckles white as he gripped the back of the chair. “I hate it here. The kids are all hayseeds, and they stare at me like I came from Pluto.”

Emily ached to see him so miserable. “What about that girl you met?” she asked. “Have you talked to her again?” She still hoped a few of the other students would be friendly enough or curious enough to make the first move.

He jammed his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans, his shoulders hunching over. “She’s busy with her own friends.”

“What about the boys?” Emily persisted. “This is a small town, and it’s not every day someone comes here from another state. They must have noticed you.”

“Like I care,” he said with a defensive sneer. “I have plenty of friends.”

And a few enemies, too, Emily thought grimly, but she didn’t voice her thoughts. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold,” she suggested as she set the plate of chicken and the bowl of mashed potatoes on the table.

David poured milk for both of them. “Why can’t we just go home?” he whined, after they’d helped themselves and started eating.

Emily gave him a long look. “You know why.”

His cheeks turned red, and his mouth took on a sulky droop. “Aw, Mom. You just overreacted,” he said. “Nothing really happened.”

She set down her fork and lifted her chin. “We’ve been over this before. We’re here now, and we’re staying, so you might as well make the best of it.”

For a moment he glared back at her defiantly. Then he shifted his gaze, picking up a drumstick and biting into it without replying.

It was time for a change of subject. “I’ve been thinking about getting a dog,” Emily announced. “We’ve certainly got the room. Would you be interested in helping me pick one out?”

David had always wanted a pet, but Stuart hadn’t liked the idea of an animal shedding on the expensive furniture and carpets of the showplace in Brentwood. Now she watched the emotions play across her son’s face. Finally, after an obvious struggle, his brooding expression lightened, reminding Emily of his habitual sunny disposition until her divorce from his father. How much David had changed in a little more than a year.

“Can we look for a dog after supper?” He was actually smiling.

Emily had to grin at his enthusiasm. “I need to call on a couple of ads from the newspaper first,” she replied. “And don’t you have homework?”

David shoveled a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Yeah, but only a little,” he mumbled. “I did most of it at lunch.” He swallowed and immediately took another bite. “I’ll do the dishes while you call.”

Chores had been one more thing she and Stuart had never agreed on, but she’d been adamant that David learn responsibility. Now that she no longer had hired help in the kitchen, she was doubly glad she’d stuck to her guns despite Stuart’s sneering remarks about women’s work. Had her husband changed so much over the years, or had she failed in the beginning to see what he was really like?

She hoped the people with dogs for sale were home. “Just for tonight I’ll do the dishes while you finish your studying.” She gave David a warm smile. Whenever she caught a glimpse of the sweet little boy she remembered beneath the cool adolescent veneer, her determination to keep her son safe at all costs was strengthened. She would have moved to the ends of the earth to protect him. Compared to that, the wilds of Colorado seemed pretty tame.

“Daddy, don’t you like the enchilada casserole?” Kim Winchester asked. “Betty and I fixed it special for you because last time you said it was so good.”

Adam blinked and glanced down at his plate, surprised to see that he’d only been picking at his food. “Uh, the casserole is great, honey. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” He gave his daughter a reassuring smile, relieved to see her worried frown melt away.

Since Kim’s mother had left when Kim was little, Adam’s daughter was the most important person in his life. Call him overprotective, but he remembered how fiercely she’d missed Christie in the beginning. He was determined to make sure no one ever hurt Kim that badly ever again.

To convince her now that he really liked the casserole, and because he’d just realized he was genuinely hungry, he dug into the mixture of meat, corn and tortillas. She watched while he rolled his eyes and chewed enthusiastically. “It’s wonderful,” he pronounced, mouth full.

Apparently satisfied, Kim turned her attention back to her own meager portion. She was built like her mother, small and slim, and she ate like a bird.

As Adam made an effort to clean his plate before the housekeeper could scold him, his thoughts went back to his earlier visit to his neighbor, Emily Major.

Even though she hadn’t bothered to introduce herself, he’d already gotten her name from county records. When he’d first recognized her, he’d felt a momentary twinge of disappointment. He’d been right—she was new to the area. Too bad she would probably be leaving again as soon as he’d bought her out. Under different circumstances he might have enjoyed getting to know her better.

His determination to acquire her twenty acres hadn’t changed since she’d turned down his offer, but the negotiations looked to be a whole lot more entertaining than he’d first figured. Now that he’d had time to think about it, he couldn’t say he was all that disappointed she hadn’t given in on his first try. At least he had an excuse to tangle with Ms. Major again.

“You look like you just beat Uncle Travis at poker,” Kim said. “What’s going on?”

Her perception startled him. If she was able to read him this easily at fifteen, the next few years could be a challenge.

“I was just thinking about a little land deal I’m working on,” he replied, sipping his water.

“Isn’t the Running W big enough for you yet?” she teased. “It’s already way bigger than any of my friends’ ranches.”

“You know how we always have to move the cattle out of the eastern pasture every summer,” he reminded her. “It’s water we need more than land.”

When it came to the actual working of the ranch, Kim hadn’t yet taken much of an interest. Someday the Running W, begun on a much smaller scale by her grandfather, would be passed on to the next generation of Winchesters. Kim was the only child Adam figured on having. Someday she’d own a third of it. Since Adam had taken over, he’d expanded the operation and put it on a solid financial footing. Too bad the old man hadn’t lived long enough to see what a good job his oldest son was doing.

“There’s a dance at school in a couple of weeks,” Kim said. “Sarah wanted to know if I was going.”

At least it wasn’t some boy doing the asking. Not yet, anyway. Dances at the high school were well chaperoned. Kim had been allowed to go to several already this year, even though Adam would have liked to keep her locked in her room until she was thirty.

“Is this the reason for the enchilada casserole?” He couldn’t resist teasing. “Soften the old man up first?”

Kim looked mildly indignant, but the flush on her cheeks gave her away. “Of course not. All of my friends will be there, and I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“Well, if Sarah’s parents can drive one way, I’m sure somebody here can manage to pick you up,” Adam conceded.

“Billie Campbell got his driver’s license.” Kim picked up her roll and began tearing it into pieces. “Sarah said he might be able to borrow his dad’s car.”

Before Kim had finished talking, Adam was already shaking his head. “Billie Campbell lives clear on the other side of town, and I don’t want you riding with someone who just got his license.”

“Da-ad!” she wailed, dropping the roll onto her plate. “That’s not fair. I’m too old for my father to drive me.”

“You’re fifteen. Life isn’t always fair,” he replied evenly, unwilling to argue with her, “but I’ll be happy to provide transportation. Let me know what you decide.” Billie Campbell was barely sixteen, a mass of hormones with all the sense of a bull calf. Adam might not be able to bar boys like him from the dance or keep them away from Kim, but he wasn’t about to let his daughter in a car with one of them behind the wheel.

For a moment she glared at him, lower lip poked out, but then she sighed dramatically. “Okay. Can I at least get something new to wear?”

He chuckled, suspecting he’d just been maneuvered by an expert. “I suppose. If Betty doesn’t have time to take you shopping before the dance, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” Kim’s smile brought a shaft of relief that, so far, their relationship hadn’t been marred by the kinds of arguments some of the other parents were already having with their kids.

“What else is going on with you?” he asked idly as he cleaned his plate.

“There’s a new boy at school.” She tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind one ear. Six months ago he’d told her she couldn’t have them pierced until she turned sixteen. That had cost him a new parka, he recalled. “I think he’s from California,” she added. “He’s way cool.”

Adam blinked. “Who?”

Kim rolled her eyes. “The new boy. The one I was just telling you about.”

New boy? Adam’s paternal instincts went on red alert. “Have you met him?”

“Not really, but he’s in a couple of my classes. He acts so much more mature than the other boys.” Kim had friends of both genders, and Adam suspected she got periodic crushes he didn’t know about or care to. Someone different might seem pretty slick to a young girl like her. Adam wanted to warn her to be careful, but he didn’t know what to say without scaring her or making her clam up.

California! Perhaps the fancy truck Adam had seen in town belonged to the new kid. He was probably Emily’s son. If so, he wouldn’t be around long enough for Adam to be concerned.

Suddenly, he realized that Betty, his longtime housekeeper, was standing by his elbow waiting to take his plate.

“Are you finished, Mr. Winchester?” she asked. She’d worked for him since right after Christie had left, managing the household, helping to raise Kim and offering a running commentary on Adam’s social life, but she had steadfastly refused to call him by his first name. That, she felt, would breed too much familiarity.

On more than one occasion he’d wished she would call him any damn thing she wanted just as long as she kept her nose out of his personal life.

Now he leaned back in his chair so she could clear away his dishes. “Thank you, Betty. As usual, dinner was delicious.”

“Thank your daughter,” she replied, glancing across the table with a warm smile. “While she was fixing the casserole, I had time to make peach cobbler for dessert.”

Adam sat up straighter. Peach was one of his favorites. “The two of you are going to spoil me,” he drawled, patting his flat stomach. He was on the move far too much for his weight to ever be a problem.

“You don’t have anybody else in your life to pamper you and no prospects on the horizon that I can see, so I guess the job falls to Kim and me,” Betty replied with a sniff as she left the room.

Adam had learned from long experience that ignoring Betty’s more pointed remarks was his simplest option.

“You don’t need anyone else,” Kim exclaimed. “Like you’ve always told me, you and I are a team, right?” Although Christie still lived in Denver, she hadn’t played a big part in Kim’s life. Christie worked in a gallery there, and a daughter who needed her wasn’t a priority. She hadn’t remarried, but Adam had long suspected Christie had something going with the gallery owner, who was much older and very successful.

“In a few years you’ll meet someone special, and then your attitude will change,” Adam told Kim, putting on a woeful expression and shaking his head sadly. “You’ll forget your old man even exists.”

“Never!” she declared, jumping up to come around the table and throw her arms around his neck. “And I’d never marry anyone who wasn’t willing to run the ranch and take care of you in your old age, either.”

A sudden image of himself in a rocking chair with gray hair and a blanket over his knees made Adam wince as he returned her hug. “Thanks, sweetie, I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that,” he said dryly. For some reason, he pictured the way Emily Major had looked that afternoon, her cool smile a challenge he found hard to dismiss. Although remarriage wasn’t in the cards, he was still glad that he wasn’t ready for that rocking chair just yet.

Emily surveyed her new studio with a sigh of satisfaction. There were several long benches, two with recessed shelves underneath them for her cases of brass hand tools and other supplies. In a corner was a cabinet with drawers for type and a small iron nipping press bolted to the top. On one table were several other kinds of presses and cutters, an electric tooling stove and a grinder for her knives. A file cabinet held correspondence and records of books she had already restored. A fire-resistant safe contained two new projects, a very old family Bible and a sixteenth-century medical handbook. Mounted on one wall was a CD player and speakers. On another was a rack to hold rolls of raw Asahi silk from Japan.

Emily was eager to return to work, but right now she wanted to take a walk along the property line with Monty, the collie she and David had brought home the afternoon before, and see how the fence repair work was going. There was a stiff spring breeze, and the sun was shining. She wasn’t ready to shut herself inside with relics from the past, no matter how fascinating.

Monty thrust his cold, wet nose into Emily’s hand as if to remind her of his presence. He might not have been the dog they’d set out to acquire, but they’d made an impulsive—and fortunate—detour at the local veterinarian’s office on their way to check out a litter of blue heeler puppies at a house on the other side of Waterloo.

Monty’s owner had gone into a nursing home, and the vet told Emily he’d nearly given up finding a new family for the middle-aged collie. Lucky for Emily that David had fallen for the dog as quickly as she had. The moment they followed Doc Harmon into the back room of his office and saw Monty curled up on a braided rug by the heater, the dog had stolen her heart. When she was little, she’d always wanted a collie just like Lassie, and now she had one.

“Yes, you’re a good boy,” she cooed as she stroked his long, thin head. At first he’d been nervous, sniffing everything in the house and startling at the slightest noise. Eventually he’d settled onto his rug by David’s bed and slept there through the night. This morning after David had gone to school, Monty stuck by Emily’s side like a magnet on a refrigerator door. He minded well. So far she’d had no need to use the leash that matched his red leather collar.

A puppy would have been banned from her studio to avoid any risk of damage to her irreplaceable inventory or expensive supplies, but Monty, well past the chewing and piddling stages, would be great company while she worked.

Emily was about to shut the studio door behind her when the collie’s tulip-shaped ears pricked to attention and a low growl rolled up from his throat. Seconds later Emily saw a dust cloud and then she recognized the black pickup coming down her road.

“It’s okay,” she reassured the collie, glad for his presence. Coming from L.A., she wasn’t yet completely at ease with the wide-open spaces surrounding her or the sense of utter remoteness she felt when David wasn’t home.

The dog gave her a quick glance and then resumed his watchful stance as the pickup rolled to a stop. Adam Winchester emerged, one long leg at a time and, to Emily’s surprise, Monty’s feathery tail began to wag in great sweeping strokes.

“Some watchdog you are,” she scolded softly as the dog deserted her for her visitor, who immediately stopped and extended his hand.

From his black cowboy hat to his scuffed leather boots, Winchester was once again dressed like a working cowboy. All he needed was a six-gun strapped to his hip and he could have walked right onto the set of an old Western movie.

“Hello again,” he called out to Emily as he patted Monty’s head. The dog wiggled like a puppy. “What’s Mae Sweeney’s collie doing here?”

Monty glanced up at Emily, who hadn’t bothered to return her neighbor’s greeting. What part of I’m not selling hadn’t Adam Winchester understood?

“I didn’t steal him, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she replied defensively, ignoring her sudden attack of jealousy over her new pet’s defection. “I got Monty from the vet. He needed a home, and Doc Harmon said he’s got too many dogs already.”

“What are you going to do about him when you leave?” Winchester asked as he removed his hat and ran his fingers through his black hair.

“Doc Harmon?” She barely knew the man.

“No, the dog. I’ll take him, if you want. We can always make room for one more at the ranch.”

First her land and now her dog? What was it with this man? Next he’d be angling after her firstborn. Emily lifted her chin and braced her hands on her hips. “Who said anything about leaving?” she asked in her chilliest voice. “I happen to like it here.”

Winchester glanced around them with a speculative expression. “You planning on ranching your twenty acres?” His tone indicated that her property was too small for anything bigger than a pea patch.

“I may,” she retorted. “Not that it’s any of your business.” She’d actually considered buying some sheep, but she no longer had to explain her every action to some man. Let Mr. Hotshot Cattle Rancher think what he liked.

He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “My property surrounds you on three sides. Everything that goes on around here is my business.”

What arrogance! Emily forced herself to saunter over to where he stood with her dog. She would have liked to call Monty back to her side, but it would be too embarrassing if the collie chose to ignore her.

She wished Winchester didn’t tower over her by a head, but she refused to let his greater height and the width of his shoulders intimidate her. She was through knuckling under to anyone, and she’d go toe-to-toe or nose-to-nose to hang on to what was hers. This man might make her nervous, but he’d never know it.

“I think you’d better leave.” She snapped her fingers at Monty, who ducked his head and slunk to her side.

“Not before you name your price,” her neighbor insisted with a gleam in his eye, as though they were sharing a joke.

“A million dollars!” Emily said rashly.

His amusement faded like a light winking out. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” she said. “I’m not. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll leave it. Let me know when you’ve come to your senses.” Letting his gaze sweep over her one last time, he jammed his hat back on his head and spun on his heel.

Emily watched him climb into his truck, ignoring the way his jeans molded themselves to his masculine contours. “Don’t hold your breath,” she called out childishly, arms folded.

He looked down at her from the open window. “You’ll sell.”

His confident tone sent a shiver of foreboding down Emily’s spine. How far was this man willing to go to get what he wanted?