The Manning Sisters

by Debbie Macomber

  “No kidding.”

  “There’s no need to be sarcastic with me,” she announced primly. As she stood there, he couldn’t help noticing just how tight those jeans were.

  “Aren’t you going to do something?” she demanded.

  Undressing her occurred to him…. Russ brought his musings to an abrupt halt. “Do something about what?” he asked.

  “That cow. She needs help.”

  “She’s a he, and I’m well aware of the fact.”

  “Then help him,” Taylor ordered, gesturing toward the calf as though she suspected Russ was simply ignoring the problem.

  “I’ve spent the past hour helping him.”

  “Well, you certainly didn’t do a very good job of it.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Do you think you can do any better?”

  She looked startled for a moment, then said, “I bet I could.”

  “Here we go again.” He took off his hat long enough to slap it against his thigh and remove the dust. “Because you’re a woman, an independent, competent woman, you’re convinced you can handle this problem, while I, a chauvinist and a drunk, am incapable of even assessing the situation.”

  “I…I didn’t exactly say that.”

  “But it’s what you implied.”

  “Fine,” she agreed. “I’ll admit I can’t see why you aren’t helping that poor animal.”

  “I guess I just needed you. Go to it, lady.”

  “All right, I will.” Cautiously she approached the edge of the mud hole. She planted her boots just outside the dark slime and leaned forward slightly. In a low voice she started carrying on a soothing, one-sided conversation with the calf as if she could reason him out of his plight.

  “You’re going to have to do a lot more than talk to him,” Russ couldn’t resist telling her. He walked over to the truck, crossed his arms and leaned against the side. Already he could feel his sour mood lifting. Just watching Taylor deal with this would be more entertainment than he’d enjoyed in a long while.

  “I’m taking a few minutes to reassure him,” Taylor returned from between clenched teeth. “The poor thing’s frightened half out of his wits.”

  “Sweet-talkin’ him is bound to help.”

  “I’m sure it will,” she said, giving him a surly look.

  “Works wonders with me, too,” Russ had to tell her, although he couldn’t keep the humor out of his voice. “However, it’s my belief that actions speak louder than words. When you’re finished with the calf, would you care to demonstrate your concern for me?”

  “No.”

  Russ chuckled softly. “That’s what I thought.”

  Taylor cast him a furious glance before walking around the edges of the mud-caked hole. The calf continued to mewl, not that Russ could blame him. The fellow had gotten himself into one heck of a quandary.

  “It appears he’s completely trapped,” Taylor announced in formal tones.

  It had taken Russ all of three seconds to come to that conclusion.

  “Can’t you put a rope around his neck and pull him out?” She motioned toward Russ’s gelding. “You could loop one end around the calf and the other around the saddle horn and have Magic walk backward. I saw it done that way in a TV rerun. Trigger, I think it was Trigger, saved Roy Rogers from certain death in quicksand doing exactly that.”

  “It won’t work.”

  Taylor gave an indignant shrug of her shoulders. “Why won’t it? If it worked for Roy Rogers, it should work for this poor little guy.”

  “With a rope around his neck, he’d probably strangle before we budged him more than a few inches.”

  “Oh.” She gnawed on her lower lip. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Russ hated to admit how much he was enjoying this. She’d outsmarted him once before with that flat tire business, but Taylor was on his turf now, and Russ was in control. “I don’t suppose you’d care to make a wager on this?”

  “No more bets.”

  “What’s the matter? Are you afraid you’ll lose?”

  Taylor firmly shook her head. “I’m just not interested, thanks.”

  “How about this? If you get the calf out, I’ll come willingly to your bed. If you don’t, then you’ll come willingly to mine.”

  “Does everything boil down to that with you?”

  “That, my sweet lady, is exactly what we both want.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “If you were honest with yourself, you’d admit I’m right.”

  Her mouth was pinched so tightly that her lips were pale. “You’re disgusting.”

  “That isn’t what you said the other night,” Russ murmured.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if we didn’t talk about Friday night.”

  “As you wish,” he said with a grin.

  Taylor frowned, studying the calf. “Couldn’t we prod him out?”

  “We? It was my understanding that you could do this all on your own.”

  “All right,” she flared, “if you won’t help me, then I’ll do it myself.” She took two tentative steps into the thick, sticky mud and wrinkled her nose as she moved warily toward the distressed calf. “For being such a great rancher, you certainly seem to be taking this rather casually,” she accused him, glancing over her shoulder. Her arms were stretched out at her sides as though she was balancing on a tightrope.

  Russ shrugged. “Why should I be concerned when you’re doing such a bang-up job?”

  Taylor took two more small steps, her face wrinkled with displeasure.

  “You’re doing just great,” Russ called out to her. “In another week or so you’ll have reached the calf.”

  “I never realized how sarcastic you were before now,” she muttered.

  “Just trying to be of service. Are you sure you’re not willing to stake something on the outcome of this?”

  “I’m more than sure,” she said. “I’m absolutely, totally positive.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  She glared at him. “It seems you’ve forgotten that this calf belongs to you. The only reason I’m doing anything is because I find your attitude extremely callous.”

  “Extremely,” Russ echoed, and laughed outright. He tried to disguise it behind a cough, but the irate look she shot him told him he hadn’t succeeded.

  The sound of pounding hooves caught his attention, and Russ turned to see two of his men galloping toward him.

  “Who’s coming?” Taylor demanded. She twisted around to glance over her shoulder and somehow lost her balance. Her arms flailed as a look of terror came over her. “Russ…”

  Russ leaped forward, but it was too late. He heard her shriek just as she tumbled, hands first into the thick slime. For a shocked second he did nothing. Then, God forgive him, he couldn’t help it, he started laughing. He laughed so hard, his stomach hurt and he clutched it with both arms.

  A long string of unladylike words blistered the afternoon air when he waded into the mud. Taylor was sitting upright, her knees raised, holding out her hands while the gunk oozed slowly between her fingers. At least the upper portion of her body had been spared.

  “Get away from me you…you—” She apparently couldn’t think of anything nasty enough to call him. “This is all your fault.” Taking a fistful of black mud, she hurled it at him with all her strength, using such force that she nearly toppled backward with the effort.

  The mud flew past Russ, missing him by several feet. “Here, let me help you,” he said, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes.

  “Stop laughing,” she shouted. “Stop right this second! Do you understand me?”

  Russ couldn’t do it. He’d never seen anything funnier in his life. He honestly tried to stop, but he simply couldn’t.

  Taylor was so furious that despite several attempts she couldn’t pull herself upright. Finally, Russ moved behind her and, gripping her under the arms, heaved her upward.

  The second they were out of the mud, Taylor w
hirled around, talking so fast and so furiously that he couldn’t make out more than a few words. From those he recognized, he figured he was better off not knowing what she had to say.

  Russ’s two hands, Slim and Roy, stood by, and when Russ met their eyes, he saw that they were doing an admirable job of containing their own amusement. Unfortunately Russ wasn’t nearly as diplomatic.

  “You two can handle this?” he said, nodding toward the calf.

  “No problem,” Slim said.

  “Taylor didn’t think she’d have a problem, either,” Russ said, and started laughing all over again.

  Both Slim and Roy were chuckling despite their best efforts not to. They climbed down from their horses and leaned against the side of the truck, turning away so Taylor couldn’t see them. It wasn’t until then that Russ noticed she was missing. He discovered her walking in the direction of the house, which by his best estimate was a good three miles north. Her backside was caked with mud, and her arms were swinging at her sides.

  “Looks like you got woman problems,” Roy said, glancing at Taylor.

  “Looks that way to me, too,” Slim said, reaching for his kerchief and wiping his eyes. “I’d be thinking about what Abe Lincoln said if I were you.”

  “And what’s that?” Russ wanted to know.

  “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

  “That wasn’t Abe Lincoln,” Roy muttered. “That was Johnny Carson.”

  Whoever said it obviously knew women a whole lot better than Russ did. The way he figured it, if he ever wanted Taylor to ever speak to him again, he was going to have to do some fast talking of his own.

  Taylor had never been angrier in her life. That mud was the most disgusting thing she’d ever seen, and having it on her clothes and skin was more horrible than she even wanted to contemplate. She was cold and wet, and all Russ had done was laugh.

  He’d laughed as if she was some slapstick comedian sent to amuse him with her antics. To add to her humiliation she couldn’t find the key to the stupid truck. She’d thought she’d left it in the ignition. One thing she did know: she wasn’t going to stand around and listen to those men make fun of her.

  The least Russ could’ve done was tell her he was sorry! But he hadn’t. Oh, no! He’d roared so loud she swore she’d hear the echo for all eternity.

  The sound of the pickup coming toward her did nothing to quell her fury. She didn’t so much as turn and look at him when Russ slowed the truck to a crawl beside her.

  “Want a ride?”

  “No.” She continued, increasing her pace. She was already winded, but she’d keel over and die before she’d let Russ know that.

  “In case you’re wondering, we’re about three miles from the ranch house.”

  She whirled around. “What makes you think I’m going there?”

  He shrugged. “Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

  “No.” Her voice cracked, and her shoulders started to shake while she tried to suppress the tears. Her effort was for naught, and they ran down her face, hot against her skin. Forgetting about the thick mud caked on her hands, she tried to wipe off the tears and in the process nearly blinded herself. The sobs came in earnest then, and her whole body shook with them.

  She heard Russ leap out of the pickup, and before she could protest, he was wiping the mud from her face, using a handkerchief. She only hoped it was clean, and once she realized how preposterous that was, she cried harder.

  “I hate you,” she sobbed, and her shoulders heaved with her vehemence. “I hate Montana. I hate everything about this horrible place. I want to go home.”

  Russ’s arms came around her, but before she could push him away, he’d picked her up and carried her to the truck.

  “I…can’t sit in there,” she wailed. “I’ll ruin the upholstery.”

  Russ proceeded to inform her how little he cared about the interior of his truck. He set her inside the cab, with her feet hanging out the door, then reached into the back and grabbed a blanket and placed that around her shoulders.

  “You’re cold,” was all he said.

  “I’m not cold. I’m perfectly—” She would’ve finished what she was going to say, but her teeth had started to chatter.

  Russ brushed the hair from her face, his fingers lingering at her temple. “I am sorry.”

  “Just be quiet. I’m in no mood for an apology.”

  Russ moved her legs inside, then closed the door. The blast of heat coming from the heater felt like a warm breeze straight from paradise, and tucking the blanket more securely around her, Taylor hunched forward. She didn’t want to know where this tattered old blanket had been.

  Russ hurried around the front of the truck and climbed in beside her. “Hold on,” he said. “I’ll have you at the house in two minutes flat.”

  “Where did you find the truck key?” she asked grudgingly.

  “I always carry one on my key chain.”

  “What about the poor little calf?”

  “Don’t worry. The guys’ll get him out. And they’ll bring Magic back for me.”

  If Taylor had thought the ride from town the day they’d met had been rough, it was a Sunday School picnic compared to the crazy way Russ drove across the pasture.

  Mandy must have heard them coming, because she was standing on the back porch steps when Russ pulled in to the yard and screeched to a halt. He turned off the engine and vaulted out of the cab.

  Taylor couldn’t seem to get her body to move. Russ opened the door and effortlessly lifted her into his arms.

  “What happened?” Mandy cried, racing toward them.

  “Taylor fell in the mud. She’s about to freeze to death.”

  “I…I most certainly am not going to freeze,” she countered. “All I need is a warm bath and my own clothes.”

  “Right on both counts,” Russ said, bounding up the back steps with her in his arms. He paused at the top and drew in a deep breath. “How much do you weigh, anyhow?”

  “Oh,” Taylor cried, squirming in his arms, struggling to make him release her.

  Her efforts were in vain as Mandy held open the door and Russ carried her through the kitchen and down a narrow hallway to the bathroom.

  “How’d it happen?” Mandy asked, running after them.

  Russ’s eyes met Taylor’s. “You don’t want to know the answer to that,” Taylor informed the teenager.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Russ mouthed. When they reached the bathroom, Mandy opened the door wider so Russ could haul Taylor inside.

  “Boil some water and get the whiskey bottle from the top cupboard,” he instructed.

  Mandy nodded and dashed back to the kitchen.

  “Put me down,” Taylor insisted. If it wasn’t for this egotistical, stubborn, perverse man, she wouldn’t be in this humiliating position in the first place.

  Russ surprised her by doing as she asked. Gently he set her feet on the tile floor, then leaned over the tub to adjust the knobs, starting the flow of warm water.

  For the first time Taylor had an opportunity to survey the damage. She looked down at her legs and gasped at the thick, black coating. A glance in the mirror was her second mistake.

  Her lower lip trembled and she sniffled, attempting to hold back the tears.

  “You’re going to be just fine in a few minutes,” Russ said in an apparent effort to comfort her.

  “I’m not fine,” Taylor moaned, catching her reflection in the mirror again. “I look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon!”

  Nine

  “Taylor!” Russ shouted from the other side of the bathroom door, “close the shower curtain. I’m coming in.”

  Resting her head against the back of the tub until the warm soothing water covered her shoulders, Taylor turned a disinterested glance toward the door. She felt sleepy and lethargic. “Go away,” she called lazily, then proceeded to yawn, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “If you don’t want to close the curtain, it’s fi
ne with me. Actually, I’d be grateful if you didn’t.”

  The doorknob started to turn and, muttering at the intrusion, Taylor reached for the plastic curtain and jerked it closed.

  “Damn,” Russ said from the other side, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “I was hoping you’d be more stubborn than this.”

  “Why are you here?” she demanded.

  “I live here, remember?”

  “I mean in the bathroom! You have no business walking in on me like this.” Actually Taylor should have been out of the bathtub long ago, but the water was so warm and relaxing, and it felt good just to sit there and and soak.

  “I’m taking these clothes out so Mandy can put them in the washing machine,” he said, and his voice faded as he went down the hall.

  All too soon he was back. “Stick out your arm.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  Taylor exhaled sharply, her hold on her temper precarious. “May I remind you that I’m stark naked behind this curtain.”

  “Trust me, lady, I know that. It’s playing hell with my imagination. Now stick out your arm before I’m forced to pull back this shower curtain.”

  Grinding her teeth, Taylor did as he asked, knowing full well he’d follow through with his threat given the least provocation. Almost immediately a hot mug was pressed into her palm. She brought it behind the curtain and was immediately struck by the scent of whiskey and honey mixed with hot water. “What’s this for?”

  “It’ll help warm you.”

  “I wasn’t really that chilled.” Actually she’d been far too angry to experience anything more than minimal discomfort.

  “If you want the truth,” Russ said in low, seductive tones, “I was hoping the drink would help take the edge off your anger.”

  “It’s going to take a whole lot more than a hot toddy to do that.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he muttered. “I’ve left a couple of Mandy’s things here for you to change into when you’ve finished. There’s no hurry, so take all the time you want.”

  “Are you leaving now?” she asked impatiently.

  “Yes, but I’ll be waiting for you.”