Summer Rose

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Summer Rose Page 6

by Bonnie K. Winn


  “I see.” Apparently he did, Shane thought. So Evan had realized he’d been given a greenhorn’s work.

  “Tell you what, big brother. If I break him, you have to introduce me to the lady sheepherder.”

  Shane stiffened. Ever since Wilbur had raved about Cassie’s beauty, Evan had been pestering him to meet her, and Shane had doggedly put him off. Hell, Evan was just a pup, still…

  After Shane’s own words in the meadow, he wondered if Cassie thought any more of him than of the cowpies littering the prairie. Not that it mattered. He’d lost his head and gone against his better judgment by kissing her. He wondered what had possessed him to forget what was important.

  But it wouldn’t happen again. Not when so much was at stake. Shane had promised his father he’d get the Dalton land back, and he wasn’t going to let a pair of violet eyes and velvety lips sway him.

  Hearing the stallion snorting and bucking about the chute, Shane made up his mind. “It’s a deal.”

  Hooting his acceptance, Evan loped to the chute. “He’s mine, boys.”

  Petey and George looked at Shane for confirmation. He nodded his head, wondering how many times the boy would be thrown before he gave up.

  Evan mounted gingerly as the horse reared and thrashed about the stall. Wrapping the reins tightly over his hand, he gave the signal to open the stall. Petey swung the gate open and leaped up onto the railing, out of the way of the enraged horse.

  One…two—Shane mentally counted the seconds, wondering if Evan would go down in two or three. To his amazement, Evan hung on. The stallion bucked ferociously, and Shane could see the sweat flying from Evan’s face as he held on, gripping desperately with hands, legs, and body. Petey and George shouted encouragement as the stallion flung Evan forward and back, whipping his body mercilessly.

  Shane winced, almost able to feel the rawhide cutting into Evan’s hands, the bones crunching under the horse’s impact, the strained muscles screaming. The stallion bucked violently, circling the corral, flinging Evan about like a rag doll.

  Still he hung on.

  Stepping up onto the bottom rung of the railing, Shane leaned into the corral. He felt an immense pride build to the point of bursting. Lost bet or not, he wanted Evan to conquer the beast.

  The stallion’s bucking built to a frenzy, and Shane gripped the railing, afraid that if Evan fell now he’d be crushed under the horse’s hooves. The worst of its frenzy finally spent, the horse ceased its bucking. Snorting, but under control, it cantered around the corral. And Evan was in control. Breathing as hard as the animal, Evan pulled the horse to a stop and dismounted, handing the reins to a grinning Petey.

  Shane’s face split into a wide grin as he scaled the railing, leaped over the fence, and gripped his brother’s hand. “You won fair and square. And damned if I’m not proud of you for doing it.” He ignored the niggling reminders of the consequences.

  Evan slipped off his bandanna and wiped his sweat-covered brow. He weaved a bit as they headed for the house. “I’ll keep you to your promise, Shane.” Evan rubbed his bruised posterior. “I may have to wait a few weeks before I get in the saddle again. But when I can, I get to meet the sheep lady.”

  Roaring with laughter, Shane slapped Evan on the back. Evan flinched, nursing his bruises. “Easy, big brother. You don’t know your own strength.”

  Shane clasped his arm about his brother’s shoulders and guided him up the front porch steps. “And you, little brother, are just beginning to learn yours.”

  6

  Shane approached Cassie’s corral with trepidation. He glanced over at Evan’s cheerful face and fought back the urge to turn his horse around and head home. Evan hadn’t forgotten their bet in the ensuing weeks after he’d broken the horse, much to Shane’s regret.

  He scanned the near-empty pens and barnyard but didn’t see any signs of life. Approaching the house, Shane swung down from his saddle and looped the reins over the rail near the front porch. Evan followed suit while Shane strode across the wooden planks and knocked determinedly on the oak door. The pungent smell of fresh coffee wafted through the open window, but no voices stirred the easy silence.

  “Let’s try the barn,” Shane said shortly, hoping Cassie was out with her flock. He wished he’d never agreed to this introduction.

  The hazy, sun-filled barn was empty. Shane noticed the orderly interior and neatly stacked bales of sweet-smelling hay. No slacking off here, he thought, wishing there was. He needed a reason to dislike her—since she hadn’t provided any of her own, other then being a Dalton. A muffled thud hit the side of the barn, and they backed out, searching for the source.

  “How about in there?” Evan questioned, pointing to a small, unpainted wooden shed adjacent to the barn and pen that held a few bleating sheep.

  “Tarnation! Hold still! Do you want me to cut off your hide, too?” The exasperated female voice stopped them at the entrance to the shed. Whatever they had expected couldn’t have prepared them for the sight of a five-foot-two-inch, hundred-and-five-pound woman wrestling with a two-hundred-pound sheep.

  What fleece wasn’t lying in shreds about the sheep was plastered to Cassie’s clothes and skin. Shane and Evan watched in stunned silence as Cassie grappled the ewe to the floor and gripped her shears determinedly.

  “Trust me. This is hurting me more than you,” she panted as the spooked sheep tried to escape her shears. The sheep bawled its protest, still struggling.

  “Guess you could use some help.” Shane’s strong voice reverberated through the shed, startling Cassie and sending her tumbling backward as she loosened her grip on the sheep, who promptly bolted.

  Shane bent to help Cassie up, and his gaze collided with her dark purple eyes. He was startled at the mixture of anger, frustration, and embarrassment he saw there. He extended his hand, again surprised by the jolt he felt holding her delicate hand in his. She grudgingly accepted his help, brushing ineffectually at the fleece clinging to her trousers.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” he began, unaccountably touched by the flush that colored her cheeks.

  “It’s all right,” she muttered, ducking her head and biting her lip. Shane had noted the characteristic before and realized she nibbled on those delightful pink lips when she was scared, uncertain, or embarrassed. Right now he suspected she was all three.

  Evan cleared his throat noisily, and Shane wheeled around, having forgotten him. “This is my younger brother, Evan. He’s home from law school and wants to meet you.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Evan,” Cassie replied stiffly, having regained her dignity and standing as poised as if she were in her sitting room, dressed for afternoon tea.

  Evan bent over her extended hand, and Shane had to restrain himself from asking where Evan had learned such tomfoolery. Studying the expression on Cassie’s face, Shane saw that she appeared to enjoy Evan’s formal manners. Natty manners, Shane corrected himself. Shane considered shoving Evan’s half-bent form all the way to the dirt floor.

  “We don’t want to keep you from your work,” Shane interjected, motioning to the littered floor where they stood. Cassie’s dog-eared books lay almost hidden under the white piles. He had to hide an unexpected smile. How many women would actually try to shear a sheep guided only by a diagram in a book?

  “You mean from the butchering,” Cassie said disgustedly, studying Evan’s face. So this was the family solicitor. She had little doubt what had prompted him to meet her. Shane must be bringing out fresh troops to try and bully her into selling the land.

  “Is it supposed to turn out like this?” Evan asked, tactfully pointing to the fractured heaps of fleece scattered about the floor.

  “It’s supposed to be all in one piece. That’s the only way the buyers will take it. If the shearers don’t get here soon, I’m afraid all my profits will be lost,” Cassie responded, thrusting a booted toe into the mangled pile of wool.

  “What are the chances of the shearers getting through?” Evan questi
oned, surprising Cassie with his frank admiration. He was hardly the sinister solicitor she’d envisioned; he was a handsome, blond version of his brother, but much younger, and not yet harsh like Shane.

  “Perhaps you should ask your brother,” Cassie challenged, unable to repress her feeling that the shearers had been waylaid.

  Evan shot a questioning glance at Shane who deigned not to answer. “If you need a man’s help, you can depend on me,” he offered, his eyes full of a puppylike adoration.

  What a tempting offer, Cassie thought. Her eyes cut briefly to Shane’s. Maybe it was time he saw how it felt to be on the outside looking in.

  7

  Cassie threw the broken shears to the barn floor in disgust. Not only were the sheep long overdue for shearing, but now her shears were conveniently ruined. She felt sure they were in one piece the last time she’d used them. Hector kept waiting for the shearers to pass their way, but no one had shown up. She wondered if the townspeople had kept the shearers away, along with the blockade on her supplies. A shadow darkened the oversized doorway of the barn.

  “Find the shears?” Millicent questioned, peering into the hazy barn.

  “Yes. Not that they’ll do us any good.” Millicent followed Cassie’s eyes to the damaged shears.

  “I don’t suppose we could buy another pair in town?” Millicent half questioned, half stated.

  Stalling, Cassie paused, not wanting to tell Millicent they wouldn’t be getting anything from town. She’d kept the worrisome secret to herself, still not knowing how to solve the problem. She decided to stretch the troth a bit. “They have to come through the mail order catalogue. And we can’t wait that long. I’ll have to try and borrow Hector’s.”

  “Maybe we could help shear his flock in return,” Millicent suggested. “Hector’s been teaching Andrew, and we could probably learn too.”

  Cassie brightened. “I hadn’t thought of that.” A sudden frown replaced her smile. “I don’t know if he’ll let us get near them, though. Maybe we could keep trying to shear ours first till we know what we’re doing.”

  “You really think we’re going to know what we’re doing by then?”

  Letting out a noisy sigh, Cassie nibbled on her bottom lip. “Probably not. I counted on the shearers getting through. Our fleece won’t be worth much if we butcher it up.”

  “It’ll be worth even less if we don’t get it sheared at all.” Millicent’s no-nonsense tone penetrated Cassie’s gloom.

  “You’re right. I’ll get the shearing shed in order.”

  “I’ll go borrow the shears if you like,” Millicent offered. “And I bet I’ll be back before you get the sheep rounded up.”

  “Don’t remind me!” Cassie rolled her expressive eyes.

  Millicent answered her with a laugh and headed for the wagon, pulling off her apron as she went.

  Opening her book, Cassie found the right chapter and studied the pages. She couldn’t quite control the grimace on her face. The shed was a filthy mess. Had schoolteaching in the city really been all that bad? Yes, worse. She sighed again and took a deep breath. Facing the dirty shed, she rolled up her flannel shirt sleeves and set to work. An hour later, the shed looked transformed with the floor shoveled out and fresh hay covering the packed dirt.

  She propped her manual on the railing, studying the pictures. Satisfied she was following the right procedure, Cassie found the wide leather belting used for the shearing. Glancing up, she realized the hook to hang it on was out of her reach. She searched for something to stand on and found a rickety stool. Gingerly she climbed up, secured her footing, and looped the heavy leather over the hook. Just as she was about to fasten the belt to the hook, a deep voice boomed near the front of the shed. Cassie grasped the hook, almost losing her balance.

  “Well, missy, looks like you’ve grabbed on to more than you can handle.”

  Cassie stood still and silent. She didn’t recognize the voice, but the mocking undertone sent prickles flying up and down her spine. The hulking form filled the doorway, blocking the sunlight and shading his face.

  “I thought you Daltons always had plenty to say.” His voice curled maliciously, and Cassie’s heart flew to her throat. Andrew was in the summer pasture, and Millicent wouldn’t be back for some time.

  “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” Cassie tried to sound calm, but even to her own ears her voice was high-pitched and wavering.

  “That’s right, little lady.” His voice paused over the last word, and he almost spit it out. The man stepped out of the shadows, and Cassie found herself recoiling as he fastened his menacing gaze on her. She gulped, stunned by his thick face, muscular arms, and barrel-shaped body. He seemed to bare his teeth at her from his fully fleshed face.

  “I’m Cassandra Dalton,” she began in her most formal tone, hoping to still the growing fright in the pit of her stomach.

  “I ain’t saying I’m pleased to meet you,’cause I’m not. We don’t want your kind ’round here. We didn’t want your uncle and we don’t want you.” The chills chasing up her spine multiplied and spread to her weakening limbs.

  “I…” Her words were drowned out as a wagon pulled to a stop in the yard, and a female voice called out, “Whoa!”

  The man filling her doorway doffed his hat as Cassie heard a reserved voice greet him. “Mr. Robertson.”

  “Miss Victoria.” So the bear could be polite when he wanted to, Cassie thought, still gripping the stool she was perched upon.

  A slim, brown-haired young woman, dressed in calico, stood in the doorway of the shed. Cassie watched as the woman glanced from the hulking man to Cassie and back again. The woman he’d called Victoria addressed Cassie in a confident manner.

  “How do you do? You must be Mr. Dalton’s niece.”

  Cassie scrambled off the creaking stool. “Yes, I am. I’m Cassandra Dalton.”

  Victoria stepped forward, directing her vivid green-eyed gaze pointedly at the man. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “I have to be gettin’ on,” the man mumbled, edging uneasily out of the shed.

  After he left, Victoria eyed Cassie knowingly. “Was this a timely interruption?”

  “Yes, thank you, most opportune. Evidently Mr.…”

  “Robertson,” Victoria supplied.

  “Mr. Robertson came by to inform me I’m not wanted around here.”

  “Charming, isn’t he?”

  “Very. I was beginning to feel like a trapped rat.”

  “I thought as much. I’d say ignore him, but that probably won’t be possible. But I wouldn’t let him corner you again.”

  “I’ll try not to.” Cassie felt relief wash through her, and she sat down abruptly on the stool.

  “You’re shaking!” Victoria’s concerned voice swept over Cassie in a warming wave. Seeing Cassie’s fear, Victoria’s normal caution deserted her. She swept aside years of hurtful memories and clasped Cassie’s work-worn hands in her own, rubbing them vigorously. Victoria thought of Shane’s reaction to her befriending Cassie, but she reached out to the frightened young woman regardless. Victoria refused to accept that another generation of hate was beginning with this vulnerable woman.

  “I’m being silly,” Cassie protested, embarrassed by her dusty hands in comparison to the immaculate white-gloved ones that had captured hers.

  “I’d hardly call reasonable fear silly. Jacob Robertson is an overbearing hulk of a man, and I honestly don’t know how seriously you should take him. He’s been bitter for so many years it’s become his nature. Jacob’s a widower with one boy—Zack. They live alone in a broken-down ranch that borders your land. Shane thinks Jacob’s full of overheated air, but I’m not sure.”

  “Shane?” Cassie felt her heart sink and cursed her own weakness. They’d only shared a kiss, after all. Something he no doubt did far more often than she. Cassie hadn’t really thought Shane was married, but…“Then you’re Mrs. Lancer?”

  A look of puzzlement settled over Victoria
’s even features. “No, I’m Victoria Adams, Shane’s sister. There isn’t a Mrs. Lancer.”

  “Oh.” The quiet one-word answer was expressive.

  “Not from lack of trying. Shane’s been chased by the best, but he just hasn’t been caught yet. Sometimes I think it’s because it’s too easy for him.” Cassie saw the concern in eyes that were so like Shane’s, and instantly liked her.

  “Well, I haven’t joined the race,” Cassie intoned, dismissing her own treacherous attraction to Shane.

  “So I’ve heard.”

  Cassie’s face jerked upward, and her eyes widened in an unspoken question.

  “It doesn’t take two shakes of a cow’s tail for news to travel on the range. We chew over the same old gossip for so long that when we have something new to tell, it travels fast.”

  “But there’s nothing to tell,” Cassie protested.

  “Nothing to tell!” Victoria’s voice was incredulous. “A single woman takes on the territory’s most eligible bachelor, and there’s nothing to tell?”

  Cassie felt herself blushing. “I wouldn’t say I took on Shane—”

  “That’s not the way I heard it. Didn’t you have Brady, his swamper, herding your sheep?”

  Swallowing, Cassie nodded.

  “And didn’t you send Shane scooting back home when he told you to sell out?”

  Cassie nodded again. “But how…?”

  Victoria chuckled. “It’s a big, lonely country out here. And news—any news—gets around faster than you can blink. Don’t worry about what people say or think. I like your spunk.” Victoria stared down her pert nose and pursed her heart-shaped lips. “Don’t know about the trousers, though.”

  Glancing down at her brother’s well-worn trousers, Cassie ran a self-conscious hand across her knees.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. Just warning you that some of the ladies around these parts won’t take to them. But the men surely will.”

  Cassie looked slightly askance at Victoria’s last comment. Then she felt her lips curve upward a bit as she considered Victoria’s words.

 

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