The Rough and Ready Rancher

Flint took hold of the reins to his runaway imagination. Whiskers must have put locoweed in that damned chocolate icing, he decided, starting off in search of his son. He wanted to get better acquainted with Jenna Adams about as much as he wanted to get up close and personal with a rattlesnake. She would train his horse, then be on her way.

And that’s just the way he wanted it.

Two

Jenna placed the last of her clothes in the dresser, then turned to survey her room. Indian print curtains framed the tall, old-fashioned windows and matched the coverlet on the natural pine bed. On the wall above the headboard, a large dream catcher adorned with rawhide thongs and hawk feathers assured sweet dreams for the bed’s sleeping occupant. On the polished bedside table beneath lamps made from Native American pots, two Kachina dolls in the images of the eagle and buffalo stood watch.

She smiled. It wasn’t a feminine room by any means, but the bright colors against the off-white walls made it seem warm and friendly. “Just the opposite of its owner,” she muttered, heading for the stairs.

She followed a tantalizing aroma, stopping just inside the spacious kitchen to inhale deeply. “Something smells wonderful.”

Whiskers turned to give her a toothless grin. “Hope you like son of a bit—” His weathered cheeks reddened above his snow white beard. “—gun stew.”

Laughing, Jenna patted his arm. “I’ve had it before and no matter what you call it, I’m sure yours is delicious.”

He took a tray of sourdough biscuits from the oven. “Your room okay? It’s been a while since we’ve had us a lady round here, and it might not be as purty as what you’re used to.”

Jenna swallowed hard. How long had it been since anyone cared if she liked her room, or if she even had one?

“Everything’s fine,” she said around the lump in her throat. “Thank you.”

“Whiskers, look what I found.” A small boy of about four flung open the screen door and ran into the kitchen.

When the child spotted Jenna, he stopped so fast he almost dropped the box he held. “Who are you?”

“Ryan McCray, mind your manners,” Whiskers scolded. “You didn’t even give this here little gal so much as a howdy-do.”

“Sorry,” Ryan said, his smile friendly. “Howdy-do. Who are you?”

Jenna laughed when Whiskers sighed his exasperation. “I’m Jenna Adams.”

“Wanna see what I found, Jenna?” He held out his treasure for her inspection. “It’s a kitty.”

Afraid to move, Jenna and Whiskers froze.

“What’s the matter?” The puzzled child looked from one adult to the other. “He’s kinda smelly, but you can pet him.”

“That’s a dad-gummed polecat,” Whiskers exclaimed.

As if in slow motion, Ryan set the box on the floor and the three of them watched the half-grown skunk climb out. Jet-black with twin stripes of white running the length of its back, it waddled around the kitchen sniffing its new surroundings.

“Don’t nobody move,” Whiskers commanded, his voice reduced to a hoarse whisper. When the animal ambled toward the door, he reached for the broom in the corner, eased forward and used the handle to push open the screen. “Get Ryan outta here while I take care of this varmint.”

“I want my kitty,” Ryan protested loudly.

Afraid the child would upset the animal, Jenna placed her hand over Ryan’s mouth and backed them from the kitchen. But she’d only gone a few feet when she encountered an immovable object planted in the middle of the hall.

Flint tensed, every nerve in his body alert to the soft warmth of the female bottom resting against his thighs. His hands came up to hold her there. He told himself he was only trying to steady her, to keep her from falling. But turning to glance over her shoulder, her body shifted to brush the most vulnerable part of his anatomy and the jolt of awareness coursing through him felt as if he’d walked into an electric fence.

He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the urgent signals pulsing through his body. He had to focus on the way she’d maneuvered herself and Ryan from the occupied part of the house. A mixture of anger and suspicion overtook him. Had she been trying to kidnap his son?

“What in blazes are you doing?” Flint demanded, his voice echoing through the unnaturally quiet house.

An acrid smell suddenly permeated the air, followed by a vehement curse from Whiskers.

“Skunk,” she said, covering her nose.

Flint brushed past Jenna and Ryan to enter the kitchen. He coughed several times, then pinched his nose shut and scowled at Whiskers. “How did it get in here?”

“You’re gonna have to sit down and teach that young whelp of yours which critters to leave be,” Whiskers said angrily. “He thought the dad-burned thing was a cat.” He limped over to turn off the simmering stew, a colorful string of curses accenting his steps. “Now we ain’t got no supper, and we’ll be takin’ meals outside on the picnic table for a month of Sundays. And it’s all your fault. If you hadn’t started your bellerin’, I’d a had it outta here before it had a chance to spray it’s stink.”

“Daddy, I want my kitty back,” Ryan wailed from the hall.

“When was the last time you took a bath, Whiskers?” Brad asked, stopping just inside the back door. The other ranch hands piled up behind him.

Tom Davison fanned the air with his hat. “Whew-ee! This place smells like a cross between Jed’s feet and a damned old billy goat.”

“Whiskers, did you finally die and somebody just forgot to tell you?” Jim Kent choked out.

“Outside,” Flint gasped, bolting for the door. He stood in the yard taking cleansing gulps of air. When Whiskers came to stand next to him, Flint moved upwind. “Do you mind?”

“Consarnit all. It weren’t my fault that kid got hold of a polecat.” Whiskers pointed to Ryan when he and Jenna joined the group. “I cain’t figure out how he kept from gettin’ bit when he picked it up. Those things can have the hydrophoby, you know.”

Worried, Flint knelt down in front of his son and searched for any signs of an open wound. “Did it bite or scratch you, Ryan?” he asked, his voice sharpened by his concern.

Ryan’s chin quivered and he shook his head. “No. What’s hydo…hydotrophy?”

“Hydrophobia. It’s another name for rabies,” Flint explained gently. He gave Ryan a reassuring hug. “It’s a dangerous disease some wild animals carry. That’s why I don’t want you trying to catch any more of them. Understand?”

Ryan nodded, the matter forgotten. The wind shifted, and he wrinkled his nose. “You stink, Whiskers.”

Clearly exasperated, the old man opened and closed his mouth several times in search of epithets suitable for ladies and young ears. “Well, you don’t smell like no rose, yourself, boy.”

When his stomach rumbled, Jed asked, “What are we gonna do about supper?”

His complexion a sickly green, Jim swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down several times. “How can you think about your gut now? I’ll be off my feed for a week.”

“I can’t help it,” Jed complained, his stomach growling again. “I’m hungry enough to eat that danged skunk.”

Whiskers folded his arms across his chest. “Well, I ain’t goin’ back in there till the place airs a mite.”

Jed pointed to Jenna. “What’s she doin’?”

Flint turned in time to see Jenna take a deep breath and head back toward the kitchen door. Several minutes later, tears streaming down her face, she deposited an armload of luncheon meats, condiments and two loaves of bread on the picnic table at the side of the house. She coughed several times, but to his amazement she didn’t stop. She headed right back inside.

When she returned to add a six-pack of beer, several cans of soda and a bottle of tomato juice to the pile on the table, Whiskers elbowed Flint. “Don’t that beat all you ever seen?”

She wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeve and slumped down in the dappled shade of an oak tree. He and his men stared in awe.

Tipping his hat, Jed broke the silence. “Thanks, ma’am.”

“Whiskers, you…and Ryan need…to wash off…with the tomato juice.” She coughed several times, then leaned back against the trunk of the tree. “It should take care of the smell on your skin, but you’ll probably have to burn your clothes.”

Admiring her in any way was the last thing Flint wanted, but when he washed Ryan with the juice, he had to give her credit. She’d braved the pungent odor when the rest of them wouldn’t.

After helping Ryan into the clothes Whiskers had retrieved from the clothesline, Flint walked over to hand her a sandwich and can of soda. “Here. You’ve earned this.”

She took the soft drink, but refused the food. “Thanks, but I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”

Flint squatted down beside her, plucked a blade of grass and began to twirl it between his fingers. After what she’d just done for Ryan and his men, she deserved some sort of appreciation. But the words wanted to stick in his throat.

Damn. Eating crow wasn’t something he had to do often and it didn’t come easy. “I…appreciate what you’ve done.” He cleared his throat. “And earlier—in the hall—I guess I might have been a little harsh. But I’m sure you can understand, since my ex-wife died and I gained custody of him, I’m very protective of my son.”

Jenna gave Flint a suspicious look. He did seem to be trying to establish a truce, although it wasn’t exactly a gracious one. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ve always been that way with my brother, Cooper, even though he’s older.”

Flint looked thoughtful. “Cooper Adams is your brother?”

Not surprised he recognized the name, she nodded.

“He’s one of the best bull riders I’ve ever seen. I watched him score a ninety-four at the rodeo in Mesquite and a ninety in Amarillo. Didn’t he make the National Finals a few years back?”

Jenna nodded. “Year before last he took second place in bull riding and fourth in the all-around competition.”

Ryan’s eyes grew round and he plopped down between them. “Wow! He must be real brave.”

Remembering another bull rider and the two thousand pounds of enraged beef that had ended his life, a shudder ran the length of her spine. She stared off into the distance. Forever etched in her memory, the image would haunt her until the day she died.

“Bulls can be very dangerous,” she finally managed.

“Daddy won’t let me go down to the bull pens.” Ryan glared at his father. “I’m not allowed to go around any of the animals without a grown-up.”

“Maybe he’s afraid you’ll get hurt,” Jenna offered, grateful for the distraction.

“Not my daddy. He’s not afraid of nothin’.” When he gazed up at Flint, Ryan’s expression instantly changed to admiration.

Jenna smiled at the pride in the little boy’s voice. She remembered thinking much the same about her own father. She reached out to ruffle Ryan’s hair. “I’m sure he isn’t.”

Flint watched with a trace of envy. How would it feel to have her run her hands through his hair?

Try as he might, Flint couldn’t erase the memory of how she’d felt when she backed into him in the hall. He glanced down at his callused hands. Her curves had filled them to perfection, and they itched to hold her again.

“I wanna be a bull rider when I grow up,” Ryan said, jumping to his feet, his face animated.

Snapped back to reality, Flint smiled and caught his son in midhop to swing Ryan up onto his knee. “Last week you wanted to be a Jedi knight. The week before that you were going to play a guitar and change your name to Garth.”

“I can still do all that stuff, too. But I wanna be a bull rider and go to all the rodeos.”

“I’ll clean the kitchen while the men finish eating,” Jenna said suddenly, rising to her feet.

Flint shook his head. “No. We’ll—”

“Are any of you willing to volunteer for Purge Patrol?” she asked the men gathered around the picnic table. Gazes darted off to the distant horizon and boots shuffled, but the men remained silent. She turned to walk toward the house. “I rest my case.”

What kind of game was she playing now? Flint stared after her. If she thought being helpful would pardon the way she’d tricked him with that contract, she was in for a big surprise.

He gave himself a mental pat on the back for a lesson well learned. Now that he knew how she operated, there wasn’t any kind of scheme she could think up that he couldn’t deal with.

Jenna stepped out onto the front porch to watch the golden glory of the setting sun fade into indigo darkness. Like a comfortable quilt, a wondrous tranquility began to settle across the land, and pinpoints of light dotted the vast heavens above. The chirp of crickets soon introduced a chorus, and bass-throated bullfrogs down by the creek joined in. Somewhere in the distance, spotlighted by a full moon, the mournful solo of a lone coyote completed the lullaby, transforming the evening into a hymn of praise by nature’s wild creatures.

Despite the warm temperature, Jenna wrapped her arms around herself to ward off a chill. This time of night always reminded her of her solitude.

It wasn’t supposed to have turned out this way, she thought sadly. Life should be shared.

“Nice night, isn’t it?”

Startled, she spun around to find Flint leaning against one of the support posts in a shadowed corner of the porch. “I didn’t know anyone was out here.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Embarrassed that he’d witnessed her pensive mood, she dropped her arms to her sides and turned back to watch the last glimmer of light slip below the horizon.

Several minutes stretched between them before Flint spoke again. “The smell has cleared out of the kitchen. Thanks.”

Jenna shrugged. “The skunk didn’t bless us with a full dose, and what he did spray missed the porous surfaces. Nothing the tomato juice and ammonia couldn’t take care of.”

“That’s all it took?”

She smiled. “A large amount of elbow grease and a can of air freshener helped.”

“How did you know what to do?”

“Just something I picked up along the way.” She walked over to the swing and sat down. “When you’ve traveled as much as I have, you learn things without remembering how or when.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” he said, his voice containing a hint of suspicion. “Usually the horse goes to the trainer, not the other way around.”

Jenna started the swing into motion. Let him think what he wanted. But instead of ignoring him as she intended, she found herself trying to explain. “I find a horse is more relaxed in a familiar environment, and it’s much easier to gain his trust. Once I’ve done that, I can teach him just about anything.”

Flint pushed away from the post and walked over to sit on the porch rail in front of her. “So, you’ve been traveling around like this a long time?”

“All my life.”

“Wildcatter’s daughter?”

She shook her head. “Daddy followed the rodeo circuit.” She stared out into the darkness. “Home has always been a camper on the back of a pickup truck.”

A frown creased Flint’s brow. “Now, hold it. You had to have stayed somewhere long enough to get your education.”

“Momma taught us for a while.” Jenna swallowed hard. She didn’t want to remember certain events of her childhood. It was too painful. “Later, Cooper and I kept up with our studies by correspondence until we’d earned the equivalent of our high school diplomas.”

The night suddenly closed in and, disturbed by unpleasant memories, she rose from the swing. “I’d better get some sleep. I’d like to start Satin’s training first thing in the morning.”

“Is there anything special you’ll need?”

“No. He’s already wearing a halter, so I assume he’s trained to lead?”

Flint nodded.

She opened the screen door, but turned back, only to collide with his broad chest. His large, callused hands caught her shoulders to steady her, and Jenna’s stomach did a wobbly cartwheel at the sight of his handsome features so close to her own. He stared down at her for several long moments. She watched his firm lips part, heard his harsh intake of breath. When he gathered her more fully against him, her pulse pounded in her ears at the intense desire in the depths of his slumberous, brown eyes, and the scent of his clean, masculine skin.

She brought her hands up to push herself free. But the feel of his rock-hard chest made her knees go weak, and she found herself clinging to his solid strength for support. How could a man she didn’t even know cause her to go into total meltdown? More important, why was she allowing it to happen?

Somewhere in the back of Jenna’s mind an inner voice cautioned that she was flirting with disaster. But when Flint’s lips came down on hers to brand her with his kiss, the warning faded into oblivion.

His hands roamed from her shoulders to tangle in her thick hair, and every cell in her body tingled to life. His thumbs slid along the column of her throat, and a molten surge of need gathered at the core of her. She tried to press her thighs together against the sweet pain of mounting desire, but the heat of Flint’s muscular leg, lodged between hers, had the intense sensations threatening to consume her. She tightened her legs around his in an effort to ease the burn and heard a groan rumble deep in his chest. Cupping her behind he pressed her higher along the rough denim covering his thigh.

The slamming of a door somewhere inside the house jolted Jenna back to reality, and she pushed against him. “Please—”

Releasing her, she watched Flint jam his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and walk over to lean against the newel post. His back to her, he took a deep breath. “Was there anything else you needed, Jenna?”

His sudden withdrawal and dispassionate tone helped to douse the last traces of her desire. “No.”

Bewildered by her body’s betrayal, and furious with herself, she allowed anger to take charge. She tried to wipe away the feel of his kiss with the back of her hand. “And I certainly didn’t need that.”

“You didn’t turn it down.”

“I didn’t ask for it, either.”

Flint turned to face her, his smile meaningful. “Come on now, darlin’. We’re both too old to play games. Why else would you force yourself into my arms?”

Outraged, Jenna saw red. “I turned to ask you to keep your men away from the corral tomorrow while I work with Satin. Nothing more.” She jerked the screen door open. “Let’s get something else straight while we’re at it. You grabbed me. And if you weren’t so full of yourself, you’d admit it, McCray.”

The sting of Jenna’s words hit like a physical blow as Flint silently watched the door bang shut behind her. He had reached for her, but only to steady her, to keep her from falling. What he couldn’t figure out was why he’d allowed it to go beyond that. Maybe it had been the way she’d looked up at him with those big gray eyes—eyes that promised not only ecstasy and fulfillment, but mirrored a loneliness as deep as his own.

He cursed a blue streak. Whatever the reason, when he felt her soft, pliable body beneath his hands he’d displayed all the finesse of a steam roller.

Flint stepped off the porch and headed for the east pasture to check on the herd. He had to forget the feel of Jenna pressed against him, the taste of her lips clinging to his.

He shook his head. Why he’d allowed her to get under his skin remained a mystery. But one thing was certain. No matter what her eyes promised or how tempting the moment became, he wouldn’t let it happen again. He’d learned long ago that beyond the green of his money, he was nothing more than a dust covered cowboy with very little to offer a woman. It was a lesson he’d learned the hard way. And he kept the diamond necklace he’d bought for his ex-wife in a glass dome in his office to make sure it was one he wouldn’t forget.

He’d just been too long without a woman’s softness, that’s all, he reasoned. Every man needed physical release from time to time. And he was overdue. Way overdue.

Jenna lay awake long after she left Flint. She’d had time to reflect on the incident, and her anger had cooled toward him, but not with herself. He might have initiated the encounter, but she could have called a halt to it at any time.

So why hadn’t she?

She stared at the ceiling, listening to Flint climb the stairs and go into his room. What was there about the man that made her so spineless? Had he been as effected by their kiss as she’d been?

She’d been kissed many times before and never felt the way she had tonight. But the moment he’d taken her into his arms, her common sense had flown away like a big, green bird.

Not even Dan’s kisses had brought her to such a fevered state. And she’d loved him.

A mix of guilt and sadness suffused her when she thought of the young man she’d promised to marry. By now they should have been getting ready to celebrate their sixth anniversary. But life had taught her that plans change and guarantees for happiness weren’t handed out for the asking. Dan had died that day on the dirt floor of the rodeo arena, and she’d had to learn to get on with her life.

Jenna impatiently wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, turned to her side and forced herself to relax. She’d wasted enough time feeling sorry for herself. She had a new horse to work with tomorrow, and she needed rest to meet the challenge. Besides, trying to figure out her reaction to Flint McCray was like trying to solve a crossword puzzle with no clues.

Drifting toward the peacefulness of sleep, the sound of shots being fired brought her to instant awareness. Rolling to the side of the bed, she landed on the polished hardwood floor with a jarring thump. Her hand hit the nightstand, and something sharp pierced her palm, but after a startled cry, she ignored the pain and began inching her way toward the door.

Maybe she should reexamine her position on insisting Flint honor their contract, she thought, her heart pounding hard against her ribs. If she was going to have to dodge rifle slugs, she’d be more than glad to go.

When the door crashed open, Jenna barely had time to cover her head with her hands before a large body landed on top of her.

Three

“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.