Читать книгу Her Lone Cowboy - Patricia Forsythe, Patricia Forsythe - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

LANEY’S EYES WIDENED when she realized some of the shadows she’d been watching with gooey-eyed dreaminess were moving. In fact, they had abandoned their own grama and were trampling the flowers she’d planted and devouring the small area of lawn she was trying to coax back to life. She was determined that her plants would avoid the fate of her mom’s.

She turned to dash out the kitchen door, then remembered she was barefoot. She had put on a tank top and shorts after her shower, and now she yanked on the boots she’d left by the back door.

Allowing the screen door to slam behind her, she ran out waving her arms. “Get out! Get out!” How did you get in here?

The four cows didn’t even bother to lift their heads, since they were too busy feasting on her lawn. She tried slapping one on the rump. It took a couple of steps away from her then glanced back as if to thank her for directing it to a fresh patch of grass.

“Stupid, smug beasts!” she huffed, fuming.

Looking around, she saw that the gate between her property and Ransom’s was open. The animals had probably pressed against it as they were grazing on his land, and the latch had popped open. Never ones to waste an opportunity to find food, they’d simply invited themselves in.

She would have to call Caleb to come get his cattle. She reached into her shorts’ pocket for her cell phone, then realized she had no idea what his number was, and if she had and her name came up on his Caller ID, he might not even answer.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be with neighbors. Neighbors help each other, welcome each other, share phone numbers, keep an eye on their own darned cattle.” In her righteous indignation, she was building up a healthy head of steam. This time when she swatted one of the cows on the rump, it moved in the right direction, back toward the gate where it had made its unwelcome entrance. Satisfied with that outcome, she whistled at the next one, slapped it, too, and got it headed the way she wanted. The last two animals seemed to realize she meant business, so they followed along, as well.

When she had them back on their own side of the fence, she locked the gate securely and strode across the pasture to talk to Caleb about his cattle and to set him straight about exactly how neighbors were supposed to act toward each other. The fact that she had to dodge cow and horse manure as she went didn’t improve her mood at all. Glancing around, she looked for the mare and filly, but they were nowhere to be seen.

She could have driven, but she was too mad. She hoped the fifteen-minute walk would take the edge off her annoyance, but by the time she stomped up his front steps and rapped on his door, she was still as annoyed as she’d been when she’d found the cows trampling her flowers and eating her grass.

* * *

CALEB THREW OPEN the door and gaped at the woman on his doorstep. He was pretty sure it was Delaney Reynolds, but in their three previous encounters, she hadn’t looked like this. She was dressed in a skimpy tank top and shorts that left about twelve miles of legs for him to appreciate. It didn’t matter that her feet were tucked into an old pair of boots—made an interesting contrast, if he were interested. Which he wasn’t.

His gaze made a quick sweep upward once again and he saw that she was breathing rapidly, obviously from exertion. Her scent, amplified by her agitation, swept over him, bringing a hint of citrus—sharp and tangy.

Her hair was loose and wild around her shoulders, with every lock doing business for itself. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were full of fire.

She looked like an Amazon on the hunt.

“Mr. Ransom,” she said, biting off the words.

“Yes?”

“Your cattle...” She had to stop to catch her breath.

“What about them?”

“They somehow got the gate open and were on my property, trampling the flowers I planted only days ago and eating my grass.”

“Oh.” He stepped outside. “I’ll go get them and...”

“Never mind.” She held up her hand to stop him. “I took care of it. They’re back in your pasture.”

“Well, thank you, I—”

“This isn’t what neighbors do, you know.”

He didn’t know exactly what she meant. “It isn’t?”

“No, it isn’t.” She paused as if to ready the next salvo in her argument.

“I can’t watch them every second and...”

“That’s not what I meant.” She waved her hand as if his words were dandelion fluff. “I mean neighbors give each other their phone numbers so they can call if there’s a problem. I’ve got the Bartletts’ phone number and they’ve got mine.”

“You’re mad because I didn’t give you my phone number?”

“I realize you don’t want anything to do with us,” she said, lifting her chin and fixing him with a steady glare.

He backed up and leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest as she went on. “True,” he said.

“But since we’re each other’s only neighbors—only us and the Bartletts out here on this dead-end road—we have to keep each other’s best interests in mind.”

“And you think having my phone number would be in your best interest?” he asked, studying the intensity in her face.

“It would also be in your best interest,” she continued. “What if I saw that your cattle got out on the road next time and went clear out to the highway? I could call you and tell you before they caused an accident, and...”

“It’s nearly a mile out to the highway and I guarantee you my cows are too lazy to walk that far.” It occurred to him that this was the most ridiculous argument he’d ever been involved in. “That was only an example of why it’s important to be able to keep in touch.” She clammed up, obviously preparing more arguments. He couldn’t wait to hear what they were.

“I see,” he responded. “You may be right and— Aaagh!” He scooted past her and made for the hose attached to a water pipe at the front of the house.

“What are you doing?” She followed him down the steps.

Caleb picked up the hose, turned the faucet on full-blast and aimed it across the yard. “I’m trying to keep a worthless tomcat away from my barn cats. The mama has had two litters since I’ve been here.”

“You mean she hasn’t been spayed?”

“No. Apparently, along with being a lousy cattleman, I’m a lousy cat owner.”

“Yes, you are. That’s completely irresponsible. The feral cat population in this county is already out of control. If she’s had two litters and each of them is responsible for a litter, that could end up being hundreds more cats. Why haven’t you taken care of this?”

His lips tightened and his eyebrows pulled together in a ferocious frown. The argument became too personal. “Don Parkey took the kittens to his clinic, spayed and neutered them, brought two back to me and put the rest up for adoption, but he couldn’t catch the mother because, first of all, she is feral, and second, she and the other two know there’s a pack of coyotes roaming the area, so they all pretty much stay up in the rafters. And, no, I don’t know how the tomcat has stayed alive to keep coming to pay her conjugal visits.” He stopped and pointed to his bad leg. “And, obviously, I can’t catch her, either.”

In a flash Laney’s expression went from annoyance to embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

When he saw pity drench her eyes, he looked away. That was what he hated—someone feeling sorry for him. And worse, someone wanting to do things for him that he used to be able to do without a second thought.