Next were the boots, and she frowned as she eyed them. The heel was high and wide and narrowed as it reached ground level. The toe was pointed but her foot wasn’t, and the part that encased the foot was as flexible as a rock. With her gaze on the boots and her mind on snakes, she waited for the salesclerk to measure her foot.
“Something catch your eye?” he asked.
“Uh, no. What would you suggest?”
“You want fancy? Tooled? Alligator? Leather?”
“Something that a snake can’t bite through.”
“Get her a pair like the ones I’m wearin’,” said another voice, and Lainie looked up.
“Don’t mean to butt in,” Jackie said. “But sounded like you could use help.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Lainie nodded at the clerk, and he left to get the recommended boots.
“Saw the hat you got,” Jackie said. “Looked like a good one. I see you’re outfittin’ yourself for Texas. Where are you from?”
“California.”
“So that’s what California sounds like. By the way, I like your hair. Good color on you. Reason I notice is I own Jackie’s Style, the hair salon across the street and down a ways. When you need a redo, come see me. I can match that color.”
“Thanks. I will.”
The clerk returned and attempted to fit a boot onto Lainie’s foot. Frowning, she twisted in her chair, trying to reposition her leg in order to help. “That’s got to be the wrong size.”
Jackie Lyn grinned. “That’s the right size, girl. If it was big enough to go on easy, it’d be too big.”
“You mean I have to fight with it every time to get it on?” Once the second one was on, Lainie stood and took a couple steps. She’d worn heels before, sure, but nothing like these. It felt like the outside of the heel wanted to slip sideways and under, and as she compensated for that, her balance teetered the other way.
Jackie Lyn smothered a laugh with her hand. “You’ve never worn boots before.”
“Never liked them. Still don’t.”
“You’ll get used to them.” Jackie looked at the clerk. “Good fit?”
“Yep.” He nodded his head once, still seated on the short stool and looking bored.
The longer Lainie teetered around on the heels, the more awkward she felt. “I don’t know about this.” She was a secretary, for Pete’s sake, not a cowhand.
“Suit yourself,” Jackie Lyn said. “They’re good boots for a good price.”
“No.” Decisively Lainie shook her head. She sat down and stuck her foot out for the clerk to remove the first boot, and braced herself to avoid being yanked off the chair.
The next morning she was on her second cup of coffee when Reed appeared for breakfast. She’d waved at him yesterday, but that was it. She’d eaten lunch in town and had then carried a sandwich to her cottage for her evening meal. But it’d been worth it. She’d gotten her shopping done and her house in order.
With a plate heaped with thick-sliced bacon, scrambled eggs, grits and four biscuits, he settled in the chair opposite her. “Saw you with your hat on yesterday. Looked good on you.” He paused and grinned. “And that shirt you were wearin’ had enough color in it that it stood out like a neon sign. But where are your boots?”
“Didn’t get them.”
Bottles of hot sauce, green and red, were scattered along the length of the rectangular table. She watched him pour the mixture in the red bottle over his eggs.
“You need them,” he said. “Even around the house.”
“I tried a pair on but didn’t like them. I’ll be fine without them.”
“No.”
She frowned, wondering what he was refusing. He continued eating, attention divided between her and his plate. “I beg your pardon?” she asked.
He finished chewing, swallowed. “I said no. You won’t be fine with something else. Has to be boots.” He washed the food down with coffee.
He appeared perfectly serious. He really thought he could tell her what she could and couldn’t do, and what she could and couldn’t wear. She felt like saying oh, yeah?
Instead she said, very mildly, “Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
Well, now. What was the best way to handle this guy and his attitude problem? For her sake, she needed to maintain her cool. His sake she wasn’t much concerned with.
She settled back in the chair. “You’ve got a good-sized bossy streak in you,” she said, pleased with her conversational tone.
“Not bossy, just sensible. You don’t seem to understand what I told you. Snakes are a hazard and you need boots. It’s that simple.”
“You don’t seem to understand what I told you. I don’t like them, don’t want them and won’t wear them. It’s that simple.”
He gave her the kind of look a patient school principal might bestow upon a troublesome child. “Then you’re not planning on riding horseback, I take it.”
“You take it incorrectly. I’ve ridden before, in sneakers, and had no problem.”
“You won’t do that here. No boots, no horse. You can drive your own car to town and back but nowhere else. There will be no exploring by car, on foot or on horseback, until you’ve got decent protection. In the form of boots.”
Lainie straightened her spine. “Cowboy,” she said carefully, “you’re pushing it.”
“Yep.” He didn’t seem concerned about it. He lifted his mug of coffee and drained it, put it down. “You can go to Miles if you want, but it won’t get you anywhere.” Pushing his chair back with an unhurried motion, he got to his feet and carried away his dishes.
Lainie watched his back until he was out of sight and then she stared at the chair he’d vacated.
“Talk about bossy.”
The fact she hadn’t managed to rile him in return only doubled the insult. She shoved away from the table. “We’ll see about that. We’ll just see. You’ve got another think coming, cowboy.”
But Lainie was the one who thought about it.
Resentment didn’t go down easy, but as the morning wore on, she finally managed to swallow it.
Yes, Miles would back up his foreman. And as much as she hated to admit it, they were right. If there were snakes out there, she needed protective footwear. It was that simple. So she’d get the stupid boots, and she’d wear them when she had to.
And then she’d look for a way to put that cocky, bossy cowboy in his place. The opportunity would present itself; all she had to do was be patient and conniving.
Lainie spent her first day in the office trying to make sense out of a filing system that didn’t exist. Cabinets made of rich oak lined the wall next to her desk, and inside the drawers was a jumble of outdated voting material, obsolete calendars, household account records, business receipts, and personal correspondence.
One drawer was empty, and she frowned into the hollow space, puzzled. Whatever had been stored in there, Miles evidently hadn’t wanted to share with his secretary. Well...that was his prerogative. She closed the drawer and went to the next one.
When she broke for lunch, she found out what southerners ate for dinner.
Lined up on the buffet were platters of fried chicken and thickly sliced baked ham, bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans, corn on the cob, a vessel of country gravy, two kinds of bread, and peach cobbler. Whew.
Lainie ate a ham sandwich, drank a glass of iced tea, and went back to work. Miles joined her shortly, carrying a mug of steaming coffee and a plate with a small amount of peach cobbler on it. He set his plate atop the cabinet, sipped coffee, and curiously thumbed through files remaining in the drawer she was working on. As if getting a sudden thought, he gave Lainie a quick glance, then looked at the plate with its stingy amount of cobbler.
“That’s mine,” he warned, and she grinned. “That’s all I get, and it’s legal today. You go after that and you’ll lose your arm.”
“I believe you.” Pausing, she rolled stiff shoulders. “I’ve tossed a lot of stuff. And I found
an empty drawer, so what we need to save is in there for sorting and filing later.”
His glance darted to the top left drawer, which had been the empty one. She’d been right; he’d deliberately and recently removed something.
“You’ve been at this a long time,” he said. “Isn’t it time you called it quits?”
“Yep. After I finish this last stack, I’m going out to the stables.”
“You’re not thinking about riding, are you?”
She gave him a quick glance. “Why do you ask?”
“Rosalie overheard you and Reed this morning.”
She grew still. “Gee, you’ve got a right small community here.”
“The only reason she mentioned it is because she thought you looked like you might have some temper in you. And I’m thinking she’s right.”
“And if I do?”
“The hardest thing in the world to do is admit you’re wrong when you’re in a temper. Take it from one who knows.”
Because of the long-standing estrangement between Miles and his daughter, Lainie considered that statement to be hard truth. She looked away, feeling sad. The feeling was incongruous to the subject at hand, but she couldn’t deny it.
Then abruptly she returned to the present. “Don’t worry about it. I already decided to buy the dad-blasted boots. Tomorrow. I’d do it this afternoon but I refuse to give him that much satisfaction.”
He grinned. “You brighten up my life, little girl.”
While he savored his cobbler, Lainie returned to the dwindling stack of papers, musing over how he’d addressed her. Little girl denoted someone to be fussed over and protected and humored—which Lainie wasn’t and did not wish to be—but it’d seemed like a casual endearment so she let it go.
Chapter Five
It was 3:00 p.m. when Lainie stepped outside the air-conditioned house. And instantly she realized she’d done this backwards. In the future, she’d spend the cooler mornings outside and the suffocatingly hot afternoons inside. She debated about putting this off, but she was curious about the elderly man she’d occasionally seen at the stable. She doubted it could be Nelly, the stable keeper her mother had loved so much, but she had to check it out.
No person was in sight when she entered the shade of the outbuilding. Three of the six stalls were occupied and the nearest animal whinnied, its head lifted toward Lainie as if acknowledging her.
Lainie and her parents had sometimes rented mounts and spent the afternoons riding the beach, but not often; at the end of those days, Elizabeth had been at her most melancholy, as if the experience had held both joy and punishment. Now, without her mother there to guide her, Lainie wondered if she dared approach the horse that seemed to be beckoning her.
“Glory take a liking to you,” said a voice behind her, and Lainie spun.
The man was weathered and wrinkled, no taller than she, and possibly only ten pounds or so heavier. He wore faded cotton work pants that might’ve been navy blue at one time, and a striped blue and white shirt tucked in without a belt. He looked amused that she was so startled.
“Nelly?” she breathed.
He hesitated for an instant, and then said, “Missy.” Both his tone and eyes were full of welcome.
Her gaze faltered. Her mother had told her that had been his pet name for her, and Lainie wondered if she’d tipped her hand by calling him by name. Then she realized she’d been here long enough someone could’ve told her his name. Missy most likely was his title for females whose hair hadn’t yet turned gray.
She extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Lainie Johnson.”
“I know who you be.” He’d taken her hand in both of his and held it in a loose, warm clasp, and his gaze was just as warm. She felt strangely unable to break away, and his words had given her the uncanny feeling that he knew exactly who she was.
“They already tell me your name,” he explained.
Well, of course they had. Pulling her hand free, she looked at the horse in the nearest stall. “What did you say that horse’s name is?”
“Glory. She be the youngest and the fastest and the most gentle. And next to her be Irish. Mr. Reed like him. They a good match, both steady and sure. And that last one there be Oatmeal. He plod along and get the job done, but he gettin’ old and cranky.”
He pointed at the empty stalls in turn. “That one there belong to Vindication, and he belong to Mr. Randy. Got too much spirit for some, but not for Mr. Randy. And Andy and Mack bring Coco and Misty Morning with ’em when they hired on for spring. They be over at the Lazy L right now. We help them out, they help us.”
Lainie was touched by the way Nelly related his horses’ histories and personalities as if they were family members. She asked, “If Glory’s the most gentle, could I ride her?”
Glory neighed, shaking her mane, as if hearing Lainie and endorsing her choice. Lainie laughed, and so did Nelly.
“She done told me she likes you. I reckon you be a good pair. I put you up on her once you in your boots and ready to ride.”
Lainie hadn’t meant she wanted to ride now, but at his words she swung back to face him. “In my boots?” She heard the snap in her voice.
He didn’t appear fazed by her tone. “Mr. Reed say not to give you a horse till you have your boots on and he be with you.”
“He be,” she echoed, then stopped. Nelly’s grammar was contagious. “He has to be with me?”
“That’s what he said.”
Maybe she wouldn’t buy those boots after all. Giving up on riding might be easier than bowing to that particular man’s orders.
“Maybe you have to do what he says,” she mumbled. “But I don’t.”
Calmly, he nodded. “I do what Mr. Reed say, when he’s right.”
She raised her chin. “And how often is that?”
“Most times. Not always.”
Lainie didn’t want to ask and yet she had to. “And this time?”
“He’s right and you’re wrong.”
She just watched him. As Nelly stared blandly back, she got the impression he trusted her to come up with the right course of action in time. And she couldn’t fight that impression any more than she could fight the man and the kindly way he had about him. She felt her stance ease. Then she gave in to a chuckle and lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay. I’ll come see you again after I get my boots.”
*
Supper was fried chicken, served cold with potato salad and hot cornbread. For dessert, Lainie passed up the berry cobbler and went back for a second serving of bread instead, sliced a big piece in half and filled it with butter so it melted down the sides.
Reed arrived late. Carter, a likable and laconic cowboy who looked a lot like a young Tom Selleck, had just vacated the seat opposite Lainie. Reed claimed it and said, “Howdy.”
She glanced at him, nodded at his greeting. There were plenty of other places where Reed could’ve sat, and she wished he’d chosen one of them.
Reed’s plate held four pieces of chicken, a mountain of potato salad, and an even bigger piece of cornbread than Lainie’s. He must have an excellent metabolism in order to eat that much and stay so slim. Carter was taller and heavier, but his plate hadn’t been nearly as full as Reed’s.
“Appears you like cornbread, too,” Reed observed.
She nodded without comment.
Finished with his first piece of chicken, Reed used his napkin and glanced around with a questioning look, then said pointedly, “Seems a mite chilly in here this evening.”
Uh-huh. Well, she had to deal with him eventually. Lainie leaned back, pushed her plate away and gave him a level look, which he returned.
“Smith, huh,” she said, for want of anything better to say.
“And Johnson,” he replied.
Scintillating conversation they had going here. “All we need is a Jones and we’d have several pages of the telephone book represented.”
He grinned. “We’ve got one of them, too. Randy Jones. Tall and skinny and youn
g. Good wrangler, best we’ve got. You met him yet?”
“No. But I met his girlfriend in town, Bobbie Ann, and her sister, Jackie. They seemed like nice people.”
“They are. Jackie Lyn owns her own hairstyling place. You’ll probably be going to her.” He glanced at her hair. “I like the color, and the way you wear it.”
“Thanks.”
He selected a drumstick. “Eyes are on the pretty side, too.”
Not even close to his, she thought, but remained silent.
“I met Nelly today.” Her voice was carefully noncommittal.
So was his. “Good man. Up in years, physically frail, but still wise.” He finished the chicken leg. “Missed you at dinner.”
“That noon meal is so heavy it turns me off. I just eat a sandwich. I explained to Miles, and,” she paused, feeling defensive but trying to keep it out of her voice. “He doesn’t have a problem with my problem.”
Reed shrugged, making light of her concern. “If you’re thinking you appear antisocial by skipping dinner with everybody, don’t worry about it. You’ve already been accepted into the family around here.”
She was surprised at his intuitiveness, and grateful for it. Then, through with her meal, and having bridged the discord—well, at least somewhat—between herself and the ranch foreman, she excused herself. As she carried her dishes away, guessing his gaze followed her, she was aware that although she felt more comfortable with the situation, she still wasn’t comfortable with the man.
Once she was out of Reed’s sight, she found he was still in her mind. Unwelcome realizations made her frown. The most troubling fact was that her discomfort had little to do with the fact that Reed Smith was bossy. It was due instead to the strong draw she felt every time she looked at him, talked to him, thought about him, even when she was mad at him.
Closing her house door behind her, she leaned back against it. Okay, define strong draw.
Being ruthlessly honest, she answered herself. Sexual interest.
Then she exhaled in a long, drawn-out whoosh. She needed this even less than she wanted a good kick in the rear. She was not interested in a romantic liaison, especially one with her grandfather’s foreman.
Lone Tree Page 4