by Norah Hess
The ice broken, everyone started talking, Jules included. He let the resentment he felt toward Rooster and the teenagers go. Rooster was he ad-over-heels in love with Ruth, and it was only natural that he would go where she went. As for the boys, Willow was a mother figure for them, and as such, they would want to be around her. And his old hound—well, he, too, liked Willow's tender touch. He couldn't fault him for that. He had liked her tender touch too. Much to his displeasure, he had dreams of her hands on his body, soft and loving.
So, Jules laughed and joked with everyone except Willow. She didn't let on that she noticed this as she engaged her two cowboys in conversation. They responded to her attention by trying to out-talk each other and tell her tales of derring-do.
As she laughed and joked with them, seemingly enjoying herself tremendously, Jules gradually became quieter and quieter. Willow had received many hard looks from him by the time she and Ruth said good night and went home.
Once she left the cookhouse, however, her pretended joviality was wiped from her face. When they entered the ranch house, she sat in the dark kitchen waiting to see when Jules would leave the cookhouse. When the others all left without him, she went to her room, undressed in the dark and crawled into bed. She tried not to think of Jules and her cook in bed together, but she could think of nothing else. Her heart wouldn't have thundered so had she been able to hear the conversation going on in the cookhouse.
"What was that performance of yours all about, Jules?" Corrie Mae asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee and joined Jules. "Am I right in thinking it was for the benefit of my beautiful boss?"
"What makes you think that?" Jules raised an eyebrow at her.
"I'm not blind. While everyone else was eating, not paying any attention to the pair of you, I amused myself by watching you and Willow. The tension between you was so thick, I could have cut it with my butcher knife."
Jules's only response was, "You were imagining things."
"I don't think so. Someone mentioned that Willow used to keep house for you. I bet you coaxed her into your bed. Did you have a lover's spat?"
Jules narrowed his eyes at Corrie Mae. He must put that idea out of her head. He didn't want it rumored that he and Willow had been more than boss and housekeeper. He would not have Willow's reputation besmirched. "You only have it half right. I tried my damnedest to get her in bed, but she kept turning me down. I got mad and said some harsh words to her, so she left my employment."
"First time a woman ever turned you down, huh, big rooster?"
"Probably won't be the last either." Jules laughed and finished his coffee. "I'll see you in the morning," he said and left the cookhouse.
Chapter Seventeen
The rain had stopped during the night and there was a crisp coolness in the air as Jules and Logan rode away from his aunt's home.
Fifteen minutes before Jules's departure from the ranch house, Willow, Rooster and Jimmy had left for the day. Jules had purposely stayed in his room, waiting for Willow to leave first. He didn't trust himself to be around her. Last night, knowing that only a wall separated him from her silky, smooth body curled up in sleep, he had needed all his will power to keep from going to her room and begging her to marry him. If he stayed around her any longer, watching her laugh and joke with those two cowhands of hers, he would go crazy.
But would he be able to stay away from her, now that he knew where she was? He wished that he and Logan could take off on another long hunt for wild horses, so he could occupy himself with something other than thoughts of Willow. But he had already neglected things around the ranch too long. He had to spend some time there. There was also the last herd of wild ones to be tamed. Before long they would be driving them to Wichita.
Willow and Rooster rode side by side in the early morning light with Jimmy, still half asleep, trailing behind them. Willow's thoughts were running in the same vein that Jules's were.
Jules had looked so good to her last night, even half drowned. When later he and Corrie Mae flirted with each other, she had wanted to attack her cook, fire her on the spot. This morning at breakfast she could hardly look at the woman, sure in her mind that she and Jules had made love in the cookhouse.
And last night, hearing him enter the room next to hers, she had been in danger of going to him, telling him that they would do it his way. That she would take the chance of him always wanting her. She had even told herself that she loved enough for both of them.
Luckily, reason had taken over and she had made herself stay in bed. She had told herself what a hellish life she would be letting herself in for if she did such a foolish thing. She would never feel there was any permanence in such a relationship. She would always have to worry that some day Jules would grow tired of her. And she would never be a mother.
She had given her pillow an impatient whack and had turned over and gone to sleep. Jules had invaded her dreams so often, she had made sure she left the house before he arose.
Weary of thinking about the man who had the power to hurt her so, Willow gave her attention to Rooster. "Rooster," she began, "I've been thinking a lot about an idea that came to me. I want to tell you about it, see what you think."
"Fire away. I'm listenin'."
"The last time we hunted cattle, I saw herds of burros grazing. The first time I saw them, I remembered Jules saying how in Colorado, burros were much in demand to work in the silver mines. He said that their small size and surprising strength enabled them to work in the mines, whereas horses and mules were too large. He also said that the mine owners were paying ten dollars a head for them.
"Although Aunt Jess and I are sharing expenses and whatever monies we make on selling the cattle this fall, it isn't going to go far. I have to get the ranch built back up again. I suspect Mr. Salazar sold off most of the breeding stock. Consequently, as you have seen, we'll not be driving the best of cattle to Wichita. We certainly won't get top price for them."
Admiration for Willow shone in Rooster's eyes as he said, "You've got a good business head, young woman. You're gonna do just fine. When do you want to start hunting the little devils?"
"While we're driving the last of the cattle out of their hiding places, we'll watch for where the burros are grazing so that we'll know where to hunt them when we're ready."
It was near ten o'clock when Thad Wilson drove his produce wagon up alongside the cookhouse. Corrie Mae had seen him coming, and she wore a wide smile when she opened the side door to the kitchen and stepped outside. She and the farmer would spend some time together in her living quarters before they got down to the business of filling her list of vegetables.
Of all the men she had ever lain with, Thad was the best. He was a virile young man who never seemed to tire in seeking his gratification in lovemaking. They were a good pair in that respect. She was slow in tiring also. They would spend a good hour in her big, comfortable bed before she bought Thad's vegetables.
As Thad jumped down from the wagon, he said with a grin, "I hope you haven't made up your bed yet. I'm in a mood to tear it up if you have."
"I can see that you are." Corrie Mae smiled back at him, looking significantly at the bulge in his trousers. "It's ready and waiting. Come on, we'll tear it up together."
The bedsprings in the back room squeaked, and the headboard thumped against the wall for over an hour before Corrie Mae and Thad got back into their clothes and went outside to the wagon. It took Thad several trips to the kitchen to carry in all that Corrie Mae had bought.
When the last of her purchases had been set on the table and Thad handed her the bill, she said, "Wow, Willow is gonna have a heart attack when she sees this."
Thad's body went still. Corrie Mae must be speaking of Willow Ames. It was unlikely that there would be two women in the area with the same unusual name. "Who is this Willow person?" he asked guardedly. "Willow Ames. She's running the ranch for old Jess Miles now. The man that was here before retired to Mexico."
When Thad left Corrie Mae
shortly after that, his mind was racing. He couldn't believe that he was lucky enough to be able to see Willow again. Also, he realized that if he was to court her again, he'd have to be very careful in dallying with her cook. He would have to learn when Willow would most likely be gone from the house and make his deliveries then. He didn't want to stop his liaisons with Corrie Mae, not even if he was lucky enough to marry Willow someday. For the past six years he and Corrie Mae had gotten together every week, no matter where she was working. He was afraid that the delicate-looking Willow could never handle his needs in bed.
Thad whipped up the team, planning when he could drop in for a visit with Willow.
Chapter Eighteen
Lines of worry creased Willow's forehead as she watched her bawling cattle being herded in among Jules's wild horses. Fall had arrived and it was time for the drive to Wichita. Would they all arrive safely at the stockyards there? It was so important that she not lose even one head.
Would Jules keep the drive at an easy pace? she wondered. His horses could travel longer and faster than her cattle could. If they were pushed too hard, they would lose a lot of the weight she had worked so hard at putting on them.
"Your cattle don't look half bad, considering the short time you had to fatten them up," Jules said suddenly beside her. Startled, Willow twisted around and lost her seat on the narrow rail of the corral. As she started to fall, Jules caught her arm and steadied her. Irritated at herself for responding to his touch, she answered sharply, "See that you don't run any of that fat off them on the drive."
Jules's eyes, narrowed in anger, watched Willow go into the cookhouse. He waited a minute, then followed her. Willow and Corrie Mae sat at the table, a cup of coffee in front of them. Corrie Mae gave him a wide smile of welcome, while Willow shot him a dark look.
"Are you going to miss me while I'm gone, Corrie Mae?" Jules asked, his eyes shining wickedly as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
A knowing smile, which Willow missed, lifted the corners of Corrie Mae's lips. "You know I will," she answered in sultry tones. "Will you miss me?"
"What do you think?" Jules fastened his eyes intimately on Corrie Mae's big breasts, where a good amount of cleavage was displayed in the low-cut neckline of her dress.
Corrie Mae leaned forward and, running her tongue around her lips, said huskily, "I'll be eagerly waiting for your return."
Willow kept her eyelids lowered to hide the pain in her eyes. Jules would be watching her, she knew, and not for the world would she let him see how deeply he was hurting her.
When Thad Wilson knocked on the door and walked inside, she was so thankful for his appearance, she greeted him more enthusiastically than she normally would have. The farmer's greeting to her was just as full of zeal.
Willow stood up. "Let's go outside and see what you have in your wagon."
"Yes, let's do," Thad said eagerly, and hurried to open the door for her.
The satisfied smirk on Jules's face rapidly changed to a dangerous frown when the farmer arrived. He knew that he was about to get a taste of his own medicine and knew he wouldn't like it at all.
"What's wrong, Jules? Don't you like to play tit for tat?" Corrie Mae teased. "You laid it on Willow pretty good."
"Yeah, but that sodbuster isn't fooling around. He was after Willow when she was working for me."
"He'll probably get her now. He's been hanging around here a lot. He's awfully good-looking, and the best lover I've ever had."
Jules jerked his head up to look at Corrie Mae in surprise. "Are you telling me that you have wrinkled the sheets with him?"
Corrie Mae nodded, a wide smile on her lips. "If Willow ever marries him, she's in for a treat, come bedtime."
"Why don't you shut your mouth, Corrie Mae." Jules jumped to his feet and stormed out of the cookhouse, slamming the door behind him.
Corrie Mae's eyes twinkled gleefully. She's getting back at you, isn't she, bucko.
Jules couldn't see Willow and Thad when he walked outside. Thad had pulled his wagon in at its usual place, alongside the building. But he could hear their laughter as he stamped off toward the barn.
A few minutes later he saw Willow emerge from behind the wagon. She looked toward the barn, hesitated a second, and walked to the house. It was plain she didn't want to see any more of him, he thought with a wry twist of his mouth.
When he saw Wilson carrying in a basket of vegetables, he leaned back against the corral, curious to see if the man would take his money and leave right away, or if he would stay a while with Corrie Mae.
When almost an hour had passed and Jules couldn't wait any longer, Thad was still in the cookhouse. The bastard, he thought as he walked away. I guess he really does have the staying power Corrie Mae claimed.
It was long before daylight when Willow lit the lamp in the kitchen and started a fire in the range. She wanted to start hunting the burros before sunup.
Her next act was to fill a basin with water from the pail on the worktable and to wash her face and hands. As she squinted into the small mirror hung beside the window and pulled a comb through her tangled hair, she thought how quiet it was outside. When she walked over to the cookhouse, the usual sounds of the men stirring about were missing. Only she and Brian and a stable hand had been left behind after she'd sent her cattle off to market.
As she started bacon frying, she sent up a heartfelt prayer that the drive would be successful. She remembered the amusement in Jules's eyes when he'd learned that she had taken over the running of his aunt's ranch. If for no other reason than to prove him wrong, she was determined to show him that she was just as capable as a man when it came to operating a spread. She had six willing workers to help her, and if Mother Nature and rustlers didn't intervene, she would wipe the smirk off his face.
Willow had just lifted the strips of crisp bacon out of the skillet and broken five eggs into the hot grease when Brian entered the kitchen. Knuckling the sleep out of his eyes, he reached for the washbasin.
"Morning, Brian." She smiled at the young man as he washed up. "How did you sleep last night, having the bunkhouse all to yourself?"
Sending a fast, uneasy look at the door leading to Corrie Mae's living quarters, he didn't answer for a second. Then he said, "I know it sounds crazy, but I had a hard time falling asleep. I missed all the snoring that usually goes on."
"You'll have to get used to it," Willow said and laughed. "The men will be gone for a while."
"I probably will, and then they'll be back and I'll have to get used to the ruckus they make all over again," Brian grumbled as Willow placed his breakfast in front of him.
Willow sliced half a loaf of sourdough bread, filled their coffee cups, picked up her plate of bacon and eggs and sat down at the table.
Neither spoke until they were halfway through the meal. Then after taking a swallow of coffee, Brian asked, "Where are we going to look for the burros?"
"I have in mind to start out in the high country and work our way down toward the ranch."
"They've been up there for years. The little devils will be as wild as deer. We're gonna have our hands full, herding them in."
"I expect so, but Rooster told me that a burro, alone on the range, is one of the most docile creatures in the world and will let anyone approach it." Brian gave her a sceptical look. "Are you planning only to look for ones that are alone? Just walk up to them and put a rope around their necks?"
Willow had to laugh. It did sound ridiculous. "Not quite like that," she said. "You've seen that old burro that Seňor Salazar left behind when he moved back to Mexico?" Brian nodded and she continued. "I plan to hang a bell around his neck and take him with us. I'm hoping that the ones we take charge of will follow him, and the sound of the bell will become like the voice of a mother. I know that it works for mules, and maybe it will be the same for their little cousins."
Brian chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "I guess it's worth a try."
The sun was just coming up
when Willow and Brian walked toward the barn. The air was chilly, and Willow pulled the collar of her jacket up around her ears as she watched some Canada geese honk their way across the sky, heading for a warmer climate.
When they rode away from the barn, heading for the high country, both were dressed for the job ahead. Besides the Stetsons pulled low on their foreheads, each wore a lightweight jacket, and heavy cowhide gloves were folded over their belts. Both wore scuffed leather chaps in case they had to ride through brush and thickets to get to the wiry little animals.
Brian was mounted on a buckskin gelding, and Willow rode a tough little quarter horse. Both animals belonged to the ranch's small remuda and didn't have names. A lariat was coiled on each saddle, and two hung around the horses' necks.
The old burro was tethered to Willow's saddle.
They had ridden for an hour, never seeing anything but a bear that went lumbering off with awkward speed when he spotted them. "He'll be lookin' for a place to hibernate before long." Brian grinned.
Another half hour passed and then they spotted their first herd of burros grazing in a shallow basin. Willow counted eleven. Unaware of the humans watching them, they were braying, kicking up their heels and playfully nipping at each other.
Willow felt a pang of regret that she was going to do her best to take away their freedom and send them to a lifetime of hard labor. If she didn't need the money they would bring her, she wouldn't do it.
"What do we do now?" Brian broke in on her gloomy thoughts.
Willow pushed away the guilt that had grabbed her, and after a sigh, she said, "Let's scatter them. Maybe we can come upon some that are alone then."
With a loud, "Let's go," from Willow, they dug in their heels, and yelling at the top of their voices, raced toward the little group.
The burros' shaggy heads came up, their pointed ears erect. The next instant they were racing out of the grassy depression, their sharp hooves tearing up the sod.