"Sure there is." To prove her point, she gripped high above her, fingers sinking into the hay, and then she picked up one foot and jammed her toe into the bale, creating her own toehold. She repeated the process with the other foot, then began moving, hands and feet alternately higher, like a rock climber, only slower.
"You're gonna break your neck," he warned.
"You're right."
"Huh?"
"I'm gonna fall!" she yelled suddenly.
Lash reached up and pressed his hands to her to keep her from falling. Only the result was that he ended up with her firm little backside in the palms of his hands.
Oh, damn. She felt good.
"I've got the cat," she called. "Can you sort of … lower me down?"
"I don't think so," he said, and the words were breathless and choked.
"Well, Lash, I can't climb back down. My hands are full."
"So are mine," he said.
She laughed softly. "That best not have been an insult, pal."
"I'd sooner insult the Mona Lisa," he muttered, and he managed to lower her some. Then he moved his hands, one at a time, up to her waist, and brought her down some more. But he hadn't figured on those tight buns of hers sliding so intimately down the front of him.
Lord, he'd never smell hay again and not remember this. The girl was killing him. Slowly. Deliciously. She stood still for a moment, there in front of him. And, holding the cat in her arms, she leaned just slightly back against him.
And Lash bent his head, just a bit. So that his nose hovered really close to her hair, and he could inhale the scent of it. And then he battled the urge to bend even lower and maybe trace his lips over her neck, or taste her tender earlobe. It was bad enough his arms had decided to snug themselves around her waist. As if he were hugging her. Very intimate.
She tipped her head back, so that it rested on his shoulder, and he could see that her eyes were closed. "Damn, Lash, this feels so nice," she said softly.
He blinked and gave himself a mental shake. Then he took his arms from around her, though it was hell to let her go. He could have bent over her just now and kissed her. It would have been so easy. So … so good.
She sighed, as if in disappointment. "You really are stubborn," she said.
He didn't reply. Best to let her think he didn't have a clue what she was talking about.
She shook her head hard. "C'mon, then, let's get Pedro in the house before this storm cuts loose," she said in an exasperated tone. "My brothers catch you up here with me, Lash, and they'll think we were—"
"I can imagine what they would think," he said, not wanting to hear whatever colorful euphemism she'd come up with. Fearing that if he heard her say it, he'd see it even more clearly in his mind. As things turned out, he ended up seeing it in his mind anyway, so it was a wasted effort.
The cat stood at one end of the living room, eyeing Blue, who lay at the other end, eyeing the cat. Jessi glanced from one animal to the other, and hoped the two would learn to be friends eventually. So far, they just stared. At least they weren't fighting. They didn't move, and she gave up on them, turning instead to the window to gaze outside.
And she paused there, because she saw Ben. He stood alone, facing the approaching storm, moving in slow, graceful patterns that almost seemed like some ancient dance. She'd had no idea her big lug of a brother could move like that.
"T'ai chi," Elliot whispered in her ear. "When he was off playing hermit in the hills of Tennessee, he studied it. Said it helped, a little. Gave him peace or something."
"Poor Ben," Jessi whispered. "I wish he could get over his grief and move on." She swallowed hard, and reached up to close the curtains. Let Ben have his privacy. Let him mourn in his own way.
Lash was washing up in the kitchen, and Garrett was out there, too, having just finished with a phone call. Apparently it had been business, bad business. Garrett was saying something about another rustling incident at a neighboring ranch. It sounded to Jessi as if he and Lash would be heading over to investigate shortly. Damn. There went any excuse she might have had to spend time with Lash tonight.
Then Garrett popped his head through the arched doorway into the living room. "You busy, Jess?"
She perked up instantly. "No. Why, you need me for something?"
"Bar-L had some stock stolen tonight. The boys rode up on the rustlers and the bastards took a few shots at them. Hit one of their horses."
"My God, Garrett! The rustlers shot at the Loomis boys? But one of 'em is just a kid!"
Garrett nodded, his face grim. "Yeah. These guys are dangerous. Luckily, they only hit a horse, but it's one of their best mounts. Paul Loomis just called, and I'm headed over there. Can you come?"
"Of course I'm coming. Let me grab some supplies. You know how bad the animal's hurt?"
Garrett shook his head. "Hurry, okay? It's gonna storm like crazy tonight, and I'd just as soon you be safe back home before it hits."
Jessi rolled her eyes at him, but refrained from arguing. Instead, she nodded and raced up the stairs to haul her bag out of her closet. She rummaged through the box of supplies she had on hand, and tossed in anything she thought she might need, including a case of sterile surgical instruments, a vial of tranquilizer and a selection of antibiotics. She was very glad to have already changed back into her jeans. Chelsea's nice clothes might look great on her, but they were just not suitable for work. She snapped the bag shut and headed downstairs again, muttering under her breath about the heartless bastards who'd shoot a horse, much less try to harm a teenage boy and his brothers, who were both around her age, more, or less, just to steal a few head of cattle. The jerks would be sorry when Garrett and Lash caught up with them.
She slung her bag into the pickup's bed, then jumped into the front seat beside her brother. Lash got in next to her, and she realized that in her anger and worry over the poor, suffering animal, she'd forgotten all about her plan to seduce him. Didn't matter. Not tonight. This was business. This was what she lived for. She'd worry about roping and branding her man later.
They were barely under way when Garrett hit a bump in the road, and Jessi was jostled tight to Lash's side. She felt a hard bulge beneath his clothes, and bit her lip. Shoot, this time he was carrying a gun.
Thunder cracked like a rifle shot, and lightning split the night. In an instant the sky broke loose in a deluge that seemed to Jessi to be of biblical proportions.
Lash handed the heavy bag to Jess and watched as she raced through the pounding rain toward the spot Paul Loomis pointed out. Paul had climbed into the back of Garrett's pickup as soon as it rolled to a stop in his driveway. He'd shouted directions above the noise of the storm as Garrett drove over the rain-wet paths to the distant field. They'd stopped three times to let Paul climb down and open a gate, then close it behind them when they splashed through.
Garrett had been right about the storm. It was a big one, and the ground wasn't absorbing the water. Instead, the rain seemed to be bouncing off the earth, then gathering into miniature streams and running off in a hundred directions.
They'd driven far from the ranch house and the barns. A handful of cattle stood alert and restless, dripping-wet, watching the proceedings, as three young men knelt around the fallen horse. The mare was a shadowy shape rising from the dark, rainy field, her sides rising and falling rapidly with her labored breathing, steam rising from her wet coat, as well as her flared nostrils.
Two other horses waited, dancing and pawing occasionally, no more at ease than anyone else. Animals could sense trouble, and these were no exception.
Garrett and Lash moved forward at a slower pace as Paul, the father of the three boys, a big man with square shoulders, a thick mustache and a face that could have been carved from granite, filled them in on what had happened.
"The dogs were taking on," he was saying. "The boys decided to ride out to check on things. I should have gone with them." He shook his head. "Damn, Garrett, that could be one of my sons lying there w
ith a bullet in him."
Garrett slapped a hand down on Paul Loomis's shoulder, splashing rain from the back of his yellow slicker. "You had no way of knowing what they were riding into," he said. "Hell, Paul, they've been riding your place all their lives without you hovering over them. This isn't your fault."
Paul nodded, as if he knew it, but still felt guilty. Lightning flashed, illuminating his face, and Lash could see the horrible "What if?" expression that haunted his eyes. "They say they came up over this 'ere rise," Paul went on, "and saw a half-dozen men or more, mounted and herding our cattle north."
Lash looked off in the direction Paul indicated, squinting through the pouring rain, and frowning at what he saw there. "What, off into that scrub lot?"
"Yep," Paul said. "My guess is, they were heading them through that brush as a shortcut outta here. Only way to move cattle off the place without marching 'em right on past the house. There's an old road out there … been closed for years. But it's the nearest place I can figure where a man could load that many head."
"How many, Paul?" Garrett asked.
The older man shook his head, water beading and rolling from the brim of his hat. "I had a hundred head in this pasture. You can see what's left." He nodded toward the small group of cows in the distance. No more than twenty white-faced cattle remained. "'Course, a few probably scattered when the shootin' started."
Garrett nodded and pulled out a flashlight, snapping it on and shining it on the ground. The beam illuminated the muddy tracks of horses and cows, all mingled together. Garrett lifted the light and moved forward, well past the spot where Jessi was working on the horse. Lash pulled out his own light and followed. Near the scrub lot, he stopped. "Garrett, here's where they went through. The fence has been cut."
Garrett nodded. "I'm gonna follow, see if I can see anything."
"Not alone, you're not," Lash said.
Garrett glanced back at Jessi, then shot a serious look at Lash. "Lash, I don't want her here alone. These bastards haven't been gone all that long, and for all we know, they might not have gone far. Stay with her."
Lash saw the point and nodded. He wasn't about to leave Jessi vulnerable to the type of men they were dealing with. And while there were four Loomis men surrounding her, Lash knew they probably weren't armed. He was. "All right, Garrett. But be careful. You see anything, come back for me."
"Gee, Lash, I'm touched," Garrett quipped.
"Hell, I just don't want to be the one to have to tell that houseful of Brands that I let their brother get hurt."
Garrett smiled, then ducked into the dripping brush and scraggly trees, and soon disappeared from sight.
Lash went back to see if there was anything he could do to help Jessi.
She looked up before he got near, almost as if she could sense him coming toward her. Rain glistened on her cheeks and glimmered like diamonds on her eyelashes. Her hair was plastered to her face, dripping wet. She wore a yellow raincoat, like the rest of them, but she'd let the hood fall back, apparently not even aware of its absence.
"I need you, Lash," she said. Only the words came out chopped and forceful, not slow and sexy, the way he'd like to hear her say them.
Hell, what was he thinking along those lines for?
He hurried close and knelt beside her in the mud. Without a word, he plucked the Stetson from his own head and plopped it down on hers.
She sent him a quick look, the slightest smile acknowledging the hat, then turned her full attention back to the wet, pain-racked horse.
The animal's labored breathing and wide, wild eyes told Lash all he needed to know of its pain and fear. Instinctively, he stroked the smooth, wet neck, and leaned closer to speak soothingly to the horse.
He felt the animal's tense muscles relax a bit under his hand.
Then he felt Jessi's wide eyes on him. He slanted a glance her way as she shook her head. "I still can't get over it," she muttered.
"What?"
"Just keep doin' what you're doin'." Then she turned to the eldest Loomis brother. "Alan, you hold the light. Keith, Richard, you two stand back. She's liable to kick like a mule."
Lash didn't like the sounds of that. If Jessi went and got herself kicked again, he'd find himself in the uncomfortable position of having to explain to her over-protective brothers just how he'd managed to let her get hurt. It'd be especially uncomfortable since Garrett had left him behind to make sure she didn't.
"Be careful, Jessi," he told her, blinking rainwater from his eyes and pushing his now wet hair off his face.
She grunted, and he was sure she barely heard. Even more sure she would pay no attention to him, whether she'd heard him or not.
"Small-caliber gun, by the size of this hole in her shoulder. Twenty-two, probably. That's good." She fiddled around, and it was tough for Lash to see what she was doing. But he knew a second later, when the mare went rigid and released a choked, surprised sound of protest. Her hind leg jerked forward in a reflex action, and Lash left his post to lean sideways, thrusting his arm between the hoof and the small of Jessi's back.
His reward was a blow to the forearm that would no doubt leave a hoof-shaped bruise.
Jessi withdrew the hypodermic and turned around to frown at him. His arm remained wrapped tight around her, and he realized that it looked as if he were putting the moves on her. Sliding his arm around her waist for a quick cuddle in the midst of chaos. And he didn't want her thinking that. No way did he want her thinking that.
He moved his arm away. "She almost kicked you," he said, by way of explanation.
She offered him a slight smile. "No need to make up excuses, darlin'." Then she winked.
"I— Jess, I wasn't—"
She gave her head a quick shake and returned her attention to her patient. The mirth quickly faded from her eyes. They seemed troubled now, instead of mischievous. "If I can't stop the bleeding, we'll lose her." She nodded toward the mare's head. "How's she doing?"
Lash dragged his eyes away from Jessi, and returned to his position beside the horse's head just as the animal let it fall gently to the short, scraggly bed of wet grass. Her eyes closed, opened slowly, then closed again.
"Oh, Lord, is she dying?" the youngest Loomis cried. Lash thought his name was Keith, and he appeared to be around sixteen.
"It's just a tranquilizer," Jessi soothed.
"It's working, Jess," Lash told her. "She's relaxed now."
"Good. Lift that light higher, Alan. No, to the right. Yes, right there." She dug in her bag again, and raindrops glistened from the black leather as Alan shone the light down on it for her. "Lash, keep her calm. The tranquilizer will help some, but I don't dare give her too much just now. I have to get this bleeding stopped, and it's gonna hurt."
"Damn," Lash said, but he stroked and soothed and made soft sounds that the animal seemed to respond to. Jessi probed with some instrument, and the horse occasionally stiffened or jerked, but for the most part she remained still.
"How's he do that?" Alan Loomis asked.
"Has a way with women," Jessi replied, and Lash heard the two younger boys chuckle nervously. Good for Jessi, relieving their stress a little, even if it was at his expense. Then, Jessi said, "Okay, I've got it. The bullet's right here, wedged against bone. If I can get it out…" Surgical steel clanged as she changed tools, and then the horse went rigid again, its eyes flying open.
"Easy, girl, hold on now. It's gonna be just fine. Yeah. That's it." Lash stroked and spoke softly.
"I've got it!"
There was more clattering as she dropped the bullet into a waiting receptacle. By the time Garrett came back toward them, boots slapping the rain-wet ground to announce his presence, Jessi had already stitched up the wound and was applying thick layers of bandages to the mare's front shoulder. She finished and got to her feet, holding her bloodied gloves up in front of her.
"There's a stream where you can clean up a little," Alan Loomis offered. He took Jessi's arm and led her away into the darkn
ess.
"You be careful near that stream," Garrett called after them. "This rain keeps up like this, and we're gonna be seeing trouble."
"Don't you worry, Garrett," Alan called. "I ain't gonna let nothing happen to this one."
Lash didn't like the friendly hand the man placed at the small of Jessi's back, or the way he could hear Alan's gushing compliments on her talents … then her beauty … as they walked away in the downpour.
"The mare?" Garrett asked, drawing Lash back to attention.
"Er … yeah. Right. Jess got the bullet out and stopped the bleeding. I think she'll be okay." He heard a soft laugh, and glanced off into the rainy darkness where Jessi had gone with that cow-eyed cowboy.
"Paul's theory was right," Garrett said. "Looks like they herded the cattle through that scrub lot to the old dirt road on the far side. There are tire tracks in the mud out there. Dualies."
"Dualies?" Lash echoed.
"Dual tires," Garrett clarified. "Had a semi out there. Maybe two."
"Damn. This is no small-time operation then."
"Nope. These boys are serious."
Voices carried on a stray wet breeze, and Lash heard Alan Loomis clearly. "The boys and I would be thrilled to come help you clean out that garage of Marisella's, sugar. We owe you for this."
Sugar?
"Thanks, Alan. And I won't be taking any pay for tending to the mare. You guys help me clean out that garage, and we'll call it even."
"You bet," he said. And this time, as they strolled into view, the jerk's arm was around her middle, and he turned to give her a big manly cowboy sort of hug. With them both wearing raincoats, it shouldn't have seemed as intimate as it did, but it still made Lash grate his teeth. "That mare's my pride and joy, hon. And I'd have lost her if it hadn't been for you."
Hon?
"That's my job, Alan."
Lash cleared his throat, and then wished he hadn't. It not only got Jessi's attention, it got her big brother's, as well. Garrett was looking at him a little strangely.
"Isn't it time we get going?" Lash asked.
The Baddest Virgin in Texas Page 6