by Diana Palmer
New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer revisits a classic tale of a rogue rancher falling in love at long last
No one expects heartbreaker cowboy Jobe Dodd to settle down and take a wife. Sandy Regan, his longtime rival, takes that as a challenge. She is determined to make the rugged Texan her own, now and forever. As Sandy and Jobe work on the range together, unexpected sparks fly and set passion ablaze. Can she lasso a cowboy’s hardened heart for good?
Originally published in 1997 as Jobe in A Long, Tall Texan Summer.
Long, Tall Texans: Jobe
Diana Palmer
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
CHAPTER ONE
Sandy noticed that he looked absolutely disgusted. It was hard to get Jobe Dodd to stand still long enough to listen to anything she said. But when she was trying to get him to listen to her about computers, she might as well have saved her breath.
“It’s my brother’s ranch,” Sandy Regan said hotly, glaring at the tall blond ranch foreman. “He says you’re going to modernize the record-keeping, so you’re damned well going to modernize it!”
Narrow gray eyes glittered down at her from an impossible height. Lean hands on lean hips made a visual statement about his opinion of her and her infernal machines without his saying a single word. He might not have a college degree, but he had arrogance down to a science.
“Did you hear what I said? Ted said we’re doing it!” she persisted, pushing back a strand of unruly dark hair. She was recovering at the ranch from a rough bout of influenza, where Ted’s wife and Sandy’s best friend, Coreen, had been nursing her. She was better. Or she had been, until now.
“Ted still owns that ranch in Victoria,” Jobe said pointedly in his deep, curt drawl, alluding to the ranch where he’d worked before Ted and Sandy had moved back to the old homeplace in Jacobsville. “No reason I couldn’t go work up there.”
“Great idea. You can work there until Ted has me convert those records to computer files, too!”
He gave her a level look guaranteed to provoke a saint. “I’ll tell Ted you recommended it.”
Her lips made a thin line. She was furious. It was her long-standing reaction to this man, who had been her nemesis since her fifteenth birthday. He’d started working for Ted just before she went away to college, and the more she studied, the more he provoked her. He had a good sound high school education, followed by some vocational training in animal husbandry, but he knew next to nothing about electronic equipment. She did, and he resented her expertise. Not that he’d have admitted it.
“You just can’t stand it that I have a college degree, can you?” she raged. “It goes right through you that a mere woman understands something you don’t!”
“I don’t need to understand computers,” he said smugly. “Not as long as you can’t understand genetics. I guess your next step will be to stuff cows into that damned thing.” He nodded toward the computer system she’d set up in the ranch office.
“As a matter of fact, I was coming to that,” she said with a cold smile. “I want to use computer chip implants in the hides of the cattle—”
“Over my dead body,” came the short reply.
“So that we can scan the cattle and get their records simultaneously. It will save a lot of time and trouble with his breeding program, and hours of paperwork.”
“I oversee the breeding program.”
“You can do it better with a computer.”
“And I’ll tell you exactly what you can do with yours,” he said in a deceptively pleasant tone, “and how far.”
She sighed angrily. Her hand went to her forehead. She was still feeling rocky from the flu, and arguing with Jobe always gave her a headache. She tried to think of him as an occupational hazard, but it made the time she spent at home fraught with difficulties. In the past few months, she’d found excuses not to visit Ted and Coreen because it put her in such close contact with him. Then flu had struck, and she’d had no place else to go. Grown she might be, but Ted looked after his own.
Sadly he considered Jobe family, too, because he and Jobe’s father had once been in the cattle business together. Sandy’s antagonism for his ranch manager didn’t bother Ted one bit. He knew that both of them were professional enough to overlook their small personality conflicts. From Sandy’s point of view, that was going to take a lot of overlooking.
“You need to get some more meat on those little bones before you start arguing with me,” he murmured, and his voice gentled. “You’re frail.”
“Hand me a stick and I’ll show you how frail I am.” Eyes almost as blue as her brother’s blasted him.
“Did Ted tell you that you were going to have to learn how to use the computer and input records?”
He looked shell-shocked. “What?”
“I won’t be here to program the computer,” she continued. “You’ll have to learn how to use it so that you can input herd records and breeding records and any other little thing you want access to.”
He glared at her. “Like hell I’m going to learn to use a computer. If God had wanted men to use computers, we’d have been born with keyboards!”
She grinned at him. “Do tell?” She could imagine steam coming out of his ears. It made her feel superior, which was a rare sensation indeed when she was around him. “Well, Ted said you’d have to learn.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll learn to program computers when you learn to cook, cupcake,” he offered.
Her pale blue eyes flashed fire. “I can cook!”
“Ha!” He was enjoying himself now. He had her on the run. “I still remember the last time you helped us with a company barbecue,” he recalled, tongue-in-cheek. “First time in my life I ever saw cattlemen eat fish. I fried that, if you recall.”
“The cowards,” she remarked. “It was good barbecue. It had a crust. Good barbecue always has a crust!”
“Not black and halfway through the meat,” he replied easily.
“I can cook when I feel like it!” she raised her voice.
There was a muffled laugh from behind them. She turned in time to see her brother, Ted, come in from the backyard. His prematurely silver hair gleamed in the light.
He glanced from Jobe’s amused expression to his sister’s outraged one and sighed.
“I fought in Vietnam,” he recalled. “Amazing how much home reminds me of it lately.”
Sandy flushed, but her glittering eyes didn’t yield an inch. “He says he wants to work at the ranch in Victoria so he won’t have to learn anything about computers!” she snarled.
Jobe didn’t say a word, which somehow made it even worse.
Ted glanced at her and then back at his foreman. “We have to move into the twentieth century,” he told the other man. “God knows, I resisted until the very last minute. But even the Ballengers yielded to the inevitable, and they did it some years ago.”
“It’s all those kids,” Jobe mused. “They don’t want their sons knowing how to do something they can’t do.”
“That’s possible,” Ted said knowingly, and grinned. “Our boy’s barely a year old now and he’s got a little computer of his very own.”
“Indeed he does,” Sandy chuckled, because she’d given little Pryce Regan that beginner storybook computer for his first birthday.
“If a little kid can do it, you can do it,” Ted assured Jobe.
The other man lifted a blond eyebrow and a corner of his mouth in a full-scale grimace. “I don’t like machinery.”
“Just because the hay baler caught your jacket one time…!” Sandy began.
“It damned near caught my whole arm and jerked it off,” he snapped back at her.
“Well, a computer can’t jerk your arm off,” she promised him.
His eyes narrowed. “So they say,” he muttered. “But little kids can use one to build napalm.”
“I’ll be the first to agree that some chemical formulae shouldn’t be posted on the Internet where any child can access it,” Sandy agreed, “and that some sort of monitoring device should be available to parents.”
“Nice of you,” Jobe replied. “But my kids would be too busy to sit with their noses in a computer all afternoon. They’d be out working with livestock and learning how to track.”
“All day and all night?” Sandy asked sweetly. “And pray tell where are you going to get these mythical well-occupied children in the first place? As I recall, you’ve never found a woman who lived up to your high standards!”
“Certainly not you,” he agreed with a go-to-hell smile.
Sandy got up from her chair furiously, rocking a little on her feet.
“Whoa,” Ted said, stepping between them. “The idea is to feed herd records into the computer, not start World War III over it.” He looked from Jobe to Sandy. “I want you two to try and make peace. You have to work together on this thing. If you keep scoring points off each other, I’ll never get my system up and running.”
“I’d like to get him up and running!” Sandy flashed at Jobe.
Jobe looked haughty. “Don’t be vulgar,” he chided.
Sandy realized what she’d said and went as red as a radish.
Ted shook his head. “You two are going to be the death of me,” he said sadly. “And all I want to do is move into the twenty-first century with my cattle operation.”
“And your horses,” Sandy added.
Jobe looked hunted. “Computers are a curse.”
“Well, you’re cursed, then,” Ted answered, “because whether Sandy sets up the system or I have someone else set it up, you’re going to have to learn to use it.”
When Ted used that tone of voice, nobody argued. Jobe’s broad shoulders rose and fell in silent acceptance, but he glared at Sandy.
“She’s good at her job,” Ted said pointedly. “She can do this better than anyone else I know.”
“So let her do it. Foremen are thick on the ground.” He nodded toward Ted and turned on his heel.
“You’re not quitting!” Ted snapped.
Jobe glanced back over his shoulder. “Like hell I’m not.” He kept walking.
“You can’t find any place in Texas to work that doesn’t use a computer!”
“Then I’ll go to New Mexico or Arizona or Montana,” he returned.
“What’s the matter, Jobe, afraid you aren’t smart enough to learn it?” Sandy asked in the softest, sweetest tone.
He stopped dead. When he turned, his eyes glittered like coals of fire. “What did you say?” he asked softly.
She’d seen grown men back down when he looked like that. It was one of the reasons he was such a good foreman. He hardly ever had to use those big fists on anyone.
But she wasn’t backing down. Although she respected Jobe, she wasn’t afraid of him.
“I said, are you afraid you can’t do it?” she persisted.
He stuck his hands on his hips. “I could. I just don’t want to.”
She shrugged and turned away. “If you say so.”
“I could learn it!”
She shrugged again.
Jobe’s high cheekbones were overlaid by dusky color. His nostrils looked pinched. Ted had to smother a laugh, because nobody got under Jobe’s skin like Sandy. It often amazed him that two people with such violent feelings never noticed that there might be more to those emotions than just anger.
“All right, I’ll give it a shot,” Jobe said, but he was speaking to Ted. “And if I don’t like it, I’m not staying.”
“I’ll accept that,” Ted agreed. “But I think you’re going to find that it saves you quite a lot of time.”
Jobe stared at him. “And if it saves me all that time, what am I going to do with it?”
“Improve the breeding program,” Ted replied at once. “Go to seminars. I’ll send you to conferences to learn more about the newest theories in genetics. You can have more time to study, right down to finishing your degree in animal husbandry.”
Jobe looked tempted. He thought about it. Finally, he nodded. “When do you want to start?”
“As soon as she’s back on her feet again,” Ted informed him, nodding toward Sandy. “She’s had a bad time with the flu. I want her completely recovered before she takes on a project this size.”
“I’m okay,” she protested, and then ruined the whole thing by coughing.
“So I see,” Jobe muttered. “You shouldn’t have got out of bed so soon. Are you crazy!”
“Don’t you call me names!” she snapped right back, and coughed again. “I can take care of myself.”
“Sure,” he nodded, “look what a great job you’ve done. If Ted hadn’t come up to Victoria after you, you’d be dead of pneumonia, all alone in that apartment.”
She really would have enjoyed disputing that theory, but she didn’t have a leg to stand on. She blew her nose and tucked the handkerchief back into the pocket of her jacket.
“We’ll shoot for next week,” she promised. “That will give me a little time to work out hardware and programs. I’ll probably have to do some engineering on the programs to make them work the way you want them to. But that’s just a little thing, no problem.”
“You go back to bed,” Ted told her. “I’ve got some things to talk over with Jobe.”
“Okay,” she agreed. She felt weaker than ever, but she shot the foreman a smug look on her way out.
He glared at her. His hand clenched at his side. “For two cents,” he began under his breath.
She went up the staircase, and Ted drew Jobe into his study and closed the sliding doors.
“Stop baiting her,” he told the younger man.
“Tell her to stop baiting me,” Jobe returned hotly. “Good God, she lays in wait for me! Snide little remarks, sarcasm…do you think I’d take that from any man on the place?”
“You two have always rubbed each other the wrong way,” Ted said pointedly. “Want something to drink?”
“I don’t drink,” Jobe reminded him.
“Lemonade or iced tea?” Ted continued.
Jobe chuckled. “Sorry. My mind wasn’t working. Lemonade.”
Ted took the pitcher out of his small icebox and filled two glasses. It was a hot day even for August, the air-conditioning notwithstanding.
The younger man sighed heavily and sipped lemonade, his pale eyes narrow as he stared out the window at the fenced pastures beyond.
“I don’t mind so much that she knows computers inside out,” Jobe murmured. “It’s just that she can’t resist rubbing it in. Hell, I know I’m not machinery-minded. But I know animal husbandry and genetics backward and forward!”
Ted knew hurt pride when he saw it. He wondered if Sandy even realized how thin Jobe’s skin was. Probably not. She did her best not to notice the ranch foreman.
“Of course you do,” Ted commiserated. “And she’s not really rubbing it in. She loves her work. She’s a little overenthusiastic about it, maybe.”
Jobe turned, running an impatient hand through his thick hair. “She’s a high-powered engineer with delusions of grandeur,” he muttered. “Jacobsville was never big enough to suit her. She wanted bright lights and suave company.”
“Don’t most young people?” Ted asked.
Jobe’s broad shoulders rose and fell. “I never did when I was young. I was happy with ranch life. There was all the time in the world, good people around me, the local bar if I needed cheering up, and plenty of friends when I needed them.” He glanced at Ted curiously. “Didn’t those things ever matter to Sandy?”
“They mattered,” the older man replied. “But sh
e had a good brain and she wanted to use it. She’s made a career for herself in a field that wasn’t overpopulated with women in the first place.”
“Oh, yes,” Jobe said harshly, “it was important to show people that a woman could do anything a man could.”
“If it was, it was your fault,” Ted said critically, and held up a hand when the other man started to speak. “You know it,” he continued unabashed. “From the time she was a teenager, you were always lording it over her, making fun of her when she tried to help the mechanic work on machinery, taunting her when she couldn’t lift bales of hay as easily as the men could. You gave her a hell of an inferiority complex. Sandy grew up with just one thought in mind, to prove to you that she could do something better than you could. And she has.”
Jobe made an angry gesture. “She spent all those years complaining about how small Jacobsville was. She didn’t want to spend her life in a hick town, she wanted sophistication. She said often enough that she didn’t want to end up wearing cotton dresses married to a cowboy.”
Ted’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he stared at the other man. He looked away. “Kids don’t realize what’s important until they become adults. I think you might find that Sandy’s attitude toward Jacobsville has changed. She’s crazy about our little boy, you know. She sits and plays with him all the time.”
“He’s not her kid,” he said pointedly. “She can leave anytime the pressure gets too much. How would it be if he was her own kid, and she couldn’t run away from him?”
“Ask her.”
Jobe laughed coldly. “Who, me? If I ever marry, it’s going to be some sweet small-town girl who doesn’t give a damn about making a name for herself in a man’s world. I want a mother for my children, not a computer expert.”
Neither of them knew that Sandy had forgotten her glass of lemonade and had come back, silently, to get it. She’d paused just outside the door and that was when she’d heard Jobe’s words.
Her face colored frantically. She turned and went silently, slowly, back up the staircase, feeling kicked in the stomach. Well, she’d always known that in Jobe’s mind, the thought of her and marriage didn’t follow each other. He wasn’t in the market for a computer expert, and she wasn’t going to settle for a male chauvinist who wanted a biddable little wife who’d stay pregnant half her life having his children.