“Forget Mrs. Buffalo. Let’s talk about something else.” After a short pause, he added, “I like the way you do that.”
“Do what?” she asked.
“You know, shake out your napkin and put it on your lap.”
She frowned. “I don’t think I have any special way of doing it.”
After several aborted attempts at conversation, their orders arrived, and that’s when Frank really started reeling off compliments. He liked the way she held her knife, salted her food, and even buttered her roll.
“So, what’s new with leather?” she asked after he’d praised the way she cut her meat.
A look of relief crossed his face, and just like that, the old Frank was back. “You won’t believe this,” he said, looking as serious as a cocked pistol, “but one of my leather suppliers has upped his price again. Said there was a shortage. Do you believe that?”
Once the floodgates had been opened, there was no stopping him. He talked about leather until Kate’s eyes practically crossed with boredom. Through it all, she smiled politely, nodded when appropriate, and managed to ask a halfway intelligent question or two.
After they left the café, Frank covered his mouth and nose with his kerchief and suggested they ride out to the river. Kate was tired and wanted to go home, but since Frank seemed to have his heart set on taking a drive, she agreed.
“All right,” she said, stifling a yawn. She hadn’t been to the river since her near-drowning and wasn’t all that anxious to go back. Just thinking about what had happened there brought back the memory of being in Brett’s arms.
But Frank was trying his hardest to please her. The least she could do was meet him halfway.
It was a pleasant night with just a slight breeze. A waning moon held court amid a canopy of glittering stars. “I’m glad you talked me into this,” she said, inhaling the sweet air. “It’s a beautiful night.”
“I hoped you’d think that,” Frank said, sounding pleased.
Just before they turned down the road leading to the river, a distant sound made Kate stiffen. Sitting forward, she grabbed hold of Frank’s arm. “Stop!”
Frank tugged on the reins. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his words muffled by the kerchief.
“Listen.” Holding her breath, she strained her ears. This time, there was no mistaking the low-pitched bawls. “There it goes again.” She climbed out of the buggy and lifted the lantern off the side. “It sounds like an animal in trouble.”
Holding the lantern aloft, she picked her way through the tall grass growing by the side of the road and stepped close to the fence.
Craning her neck to see over the top rail, she spotted the problem. A calf was stuck in a muddy buffalo wallow, all four of its legs buried. “Oh, Frank, look,” she exclaimed.
A short distance from her calf, the mother cow gave Kate the evil eye and made a lowing sound.
“You better get back in the buggy,” Frank said. “That looks like one mean mama.”
He was right about that, but leaving was out of the question. The calf was still sinking, its head now barely above ground. The long, harrowing cries sent chills down Kate’s spine. If she didn’t do something, the animal would surely suffocate.
Setting the lantern on the post, she hiked her skirts to her knees and gingerly climbed over the fence.
“Dad-blast it, Kate,” Frank called. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Reaching for the lantern, she held it high. “I’ve gotta do something. I can’t just leave it.”
Keeping a cautious eye on the mother cow, Kate approached the distressed calf with slow, careful steps, speaking in a low voice. The cow lifted her tail and grunted.
“Whoa. I’m just trying to help your little one,” Kate murmured.
For answer, the bovine snorted and stomped around the wallow’s edge.
Heart pounding, Kate kept moving, the mud squishing beneath her feet. The calf arched its neck and let out a frantic bawl. “There now,” she said in a soothing tone.
From the other side of the fence, she could hear Frank cuss. “Hang it, Kate, why do you always do this?”
“Shh. You’re scaring it.”
The calf whimpered as she neared. Watching her with dark, fluid eyes, the mother cow lowered her horns and pawed the ground.
“It’s getting late.” Frank’s voice grew more insistent. “And it’s cold out here.”
“I know, but I can’t leave.”
“So, what do you want me to do?”
She inched closer to the distressed animal. “Drive to the Brandon farm and tell Mr. Brandon that one of his calves is in trouble.”
“I’m not leaving you alone out here. Not with the Ghost Riders on the loose and a mean cow about to attack.”
The calf let out another harrowing cry that brought a responding howl from its mother.
Kate’s mind raced. “I need you to distract her.”
“Ah, come on, Katie…”
The calf sank a few inches lower.
“Hurry! I need help,” she yelled in alarm.
“Ah, gee. You know what animals do to me. You know how I break out in spots and my eyes swell and my nose gets all red and—”
“Please, Frank. If we don’t do something, the poor thing’s gonna die.”
Frank paced back and forth, his curses rending the air. Finally, he threw up his hands and climbed over the fence. In the dim light, his red kerchief looked like a beard. “Okay, let’s get this done.”
Before he reached the wallow, the calf’s mother snorted and pawed the ground.
Frank pulled off his red kerchief and tossed it. Instead of distracting the cow, it seemed to incense her more, and she charged.
Yelping, Frank turned and ran, the cow at his heels.
While Frank kept the mother cow occupied, Kate quickly plunged into the thick of the wallow and sank to her ankles. Forcing herself to proceed with caution, she tested her footing before each step. The wallow was shallow around the edges but deep in the center.
Moving as close to the calf as she dared, she shoved her hands into the mud and grabbed hold of its front legs. The animal squirmed and fought to pull free, splashing mud everywhere. Face turned, Kate tried holding on, but the calf was as slippery as an eel’s tail.
Frank raced by a second time. Breathing down his back, the cow lowered her horns. “Do something. Quick!” he yelled.
“I’m trying, I’m trying!”
Slipping and sliding in the mud, she battled to hold on to the animal. The calf squirmed and bellowed. Tears of frustration sprang to Kate’s eyes. Already, she could feel blisters forming on the palms of her muddied hands.
Frank circled the wallow for a third time, gasping for breath.
“I can’t hold on!” she cried. Oh God! Unable to see for the mud in her eyes, she let go of the calf and wiped her face on the sleeve of her dress.
If only she had a rope. The thought gave her an idea and she grabbed her wet, sticky skirt. The fabric was too tough to tear barehanded, but the soft cotton of her petticoat gave way with little effort. Tying the strips of fabric together with muddied hands, she made a loop.
This she worked over the struggling calf’s head. Holding on to the end of the makeshift rope, she pulled. The calf was strong enough to pull back but not strong enough to help itself.
Frank jumped into the wallow, and mud shot up like a geyser. Mama cow followed him to the edge of the mudhole and stopped.
“Keep pulling!” Frank bellowed.
“I’m afraid I’ll hurt it.”
“Keep pulling,” he yelled again.
The twisted fabric cutting into her palms, she yanked with all her might, her feet slipping and sliding in the sludge. Gasping for air, she stopped to wipe the mud out of eyes with her sleeve and then gave the rope another hard tug. Just wh
en she thought she could pull no more, Frank lifted the struggling animal out of the mud with both arms.
He had a heck of time holding the calf still so Kate could remove the makeshift rope.
The mama cow stuck a hoof into the wallow, looking mean enough to eat the devil with his horns on. With no time to waste, Frank tossed the calf onto the grass. He then grabbed hold of Kate’s hand. “Come on!”
Together, they ran to the fence and scrambled over it. Once they’d reached safety, she looked back. In the yellow light of the abandoned lantern, the mud-covered calf looked like it had been dipped in chocolate. The two of them were nearly as bad.
She stared down at her clothes in dismay. Her dress, shoes—everything was ruined. Frank’s clothes too. But had the mother cow attacked them, it would have been so much worse.
Now, the bovine stood over her young. Sniffing her calf from head to hoof, she set to work licking it clean.
Holding her muddied hands away from her body, Kate couldn’t help but smile. “Isn’t that the most beautiful sight you ever did see?”
When Frank didn’t answer, she turned, and her mouth dropped. Already, his eyes were swollen and his muddied skin covered in bumps. He looked like a warty toad.
“Oh, Frank, I’m so sorry.”
“Aaaa-choo! Why did I let him talk me into this?” Frank muttered. “Why?”
Him? Him who? “What are you talking about?” she asked. “Who talked you into this?”
He slumped against the fence and slithered slowly to the ground, muttering to himself. She clearly wouldn’t get a straight answer out of him tonight.
Kate stared at him in alarm. What had she done to the poor man?
“Come on. I’m taking you home.” She grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet. Since his eyes were now swollen shut and he couldn’t stop sneezing, getting him into the buggy was the hard part. After he had settled in the passenger seat, she took hold of the reins.
His condition grew steadily worse. By the time they reached town, the poor man was completely out of his head. Doubled over in his seat, he rocked back and forth muttering to himself.
It was hard to make sense of what he was saying, but it sure sounded like he was muttering something about pickles.
19
Brett stopped in front of Foster’s saddle shop and stooped to pet Ringo. Tied to a post, the dog greeted him with a wagging tail. Warding off the dog’s licking tongue, Brett stood and braced himself with an intake of breath.
If everything had gone as planned, Foster should be one happy man. He and Kate might have even settled on a wedding date.
It’s what Brett wanted; it’s how things were meant to be. Getting the two of them back together had been the right thing to do. It was the only way to make up for stopping their wedding.
Oh sure, he was attracted to Kate, but that’s all it was. It couldn’t be love. Blast Foster for putting the thought of love in his head in the first place. Once planted, it had been nearly impossible not to imagine such a thing true. Fortunately, he’d had time to think about it and had come to his senses.
Love would only complicate his life. That he knew from experience. He’d been burned once, and once was enough. More than enough. In addition, look what love had done to his sister. To Foster. The poor man had been a wreck these last few weeks.
Nope, love wasn’t for him. Brett was perfectly content with his life as a Texas Ranger and had no desire to disrupt it for a woman. What he felt for Kate was simply a case of attraction. Yep, that was it. Attraction.
It hadn’t been the first time he’d been drawn to a woman, and he sure in heck hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
Now that the couple was back together, he could pour all his energy into doing what he had come to Haywire to do—concentrate on tracking down the Ghost Riders. As soon as Foster One was behind bars, Brett could finally put the past behind him. It wouldn’t bring his sister back, nor would it alleviate his guilt for not protecting her, but at least he could rest knowing that justice had been served. If he was lucky, Kate and Frank’s wedding would take place after he had finished his business and left town.
He flung the door open and stepped inside the shop. Lucky Lou greeted him with a nod, but it was Foster who made Brett’s jaw drop. “What happened to you?”
If the bloated face did indeed belong to Foster, he looked like he’d been run over by a herd of cattle. If that wasn’t shocking enough, Foster’s eyes were practically swollen shut and resembled two narrow buttonholes.
Foster looked and sounded fit to be tied, but the only words Brett could make out were pickles and cow.
Cow?
Standing in front of the counter, Lucky Lou shrugged. “That’s all I’ve been able to get out of him.” He tossed a nod at his dog, who was peering through the shop’s glass door. “Dang dog keeps chewing through his collar. This is the third one I’ve purchased this year.” He paid Foster and left just as Kate entered the shop.
With a quick glance at Brett, she greeted her fiancé with a worried expression and set a basket on the counter.
“Aunt Letty sent more vinegar,” she said, pulling a bottle out of the basket. “And here’s some licorice. It’s supposed to help with the swelling.” She placed both on the counter.
Foster made a funny sound. “Grg go, blok, grin.”
“What happened to him?” Brett asked.
Kate’s large, liquid eyes met his, forcing him to remind himself that it wasn’t love. Mustn’t be love. Couldn’t be love.
“We pulled a calf out of a buffalo wallow,” she said. “And you know how he is around animals.”
Brett scratched his temple. “I don’t understand. I thought you and he… What were you doing at a buffalo wallow?”
She quickly explained. “We couldn’t let the poor thing die.” She pressed her hands to her chest. “He helped me save that little calf’s life.”
“That’s…that’s great to hear,” Brett said. “Does that mean that you and he…?”
“What?”
Brett’s gaze dropped to the hand at her chest. She wasn’t wearing Frank’s engagement ring. Not knowing what to think, he stared at her bare finger. He’d hoped that seeing a band on her finger would erase any lingering doubts about his true feelings. It was the only way he could think to put Kate out of his mind and concentrate on the job at hand.
Helping the couple reconcile was the right thing to do. No question. Yet he couldn’t deny that a small—okay, large—traitorous part of himself took pleasure in seeing her finger bare. It wasn’t something he was proud of. It wasn’t even a part he could control. But it was there nonetheless, and for that, he felt guilty.
He met her blue-eyed gaze. “Can we safely assume you are now in the cow-rescuing business?”
She tried to suppress a giggle, but that only made her laugh more. “I hardly think so,” she said.
Her infectious laughter brought a grin to his face, and for a moment—a very brief moment—it felt as if only the two of them existed.
Brett didn’t realize he was staring until he heard a strange sound coming from the other side of the counter. A quick glance told him that Foster was trying to whistle.
Brett’s smile wavered. “I’m just glad it was a calf the two of you saved and not a bear or wolf.”
Foster’s face grew even redder around his puckered lips, but Kate didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy describing all that had happened. “You should have seen it,” she said, her face aglow. “The sweet little thing looked like he was covered in chocolate.”
She giggled, and Brett’s heart jolted. Held captive by the play of emotions on her face, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Sounds like that calf was lucky you happened to be in the area,” he said, adding in a louder voice, “you and Foster.”
She smiled up at him, and it was as if
there wasn’t enough air in the room. “Frank wanted to take a ride by the river.”
Forcing himself to breathe, Brett glanced at Foster. The man had managed a low hissing sound in place of a whistle. He looked so bad that it was hard not to feel sorry for him. This time, he had every right to be jealous, and for that, Brett felt bad.
Kate lifted her shoulders in a regretful shrug. “I’m afraid we never made it there.”
“There’ll be another time,” he said, as much for Foster’s sake as for hers.
“Yes, I’m sure.” She brightened. “Oh, by the way, I thought of a couple more names to add to the list of peppermint buyers.”
“That’s…that’s good. I’ll stop by later, if that’s okay.” After a beat, he asked, “How’s your aunt? Has she fully recovered from her ordeal?”
“Yes, she has. Nothing’s gonna keep Aunt Letty down for long. Did you find what you were looking for from the names I gave you?”
“No,” he said. “But I’ve only interviewed half the people on it.”
“No suspects, then?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Grip a con a maya.”
This time, Kate turned to Frank, her expression soft and tender. “What did you say, dear?”
Brett felt something snap inside, like someone had torn away a piece of his heart. She’d called Foster dear. But that was the least of it. Her gentle voice and the concern on her face made one thing abundantly clear: no matter the difficulties between them, Kate still cared deeply for Frank.
Brett cleared his throat. “I-I better get a move on.”
Kate’s eyes rounded. “I hope you’re not leaving on my account.”
“No, no. I just stopped by to say…hello.” Touching his finger to the brim of his hat, he spun around and quickly left the shop.
20
Kate worked late that night. Taking care of Frank had put her behind on her orders, and she had yet to make the taffy she’d promised Mr. Turner. It was his wife’s favorite candy, and tomorrow was her birthday.
Fortunately, Frank’s swelling had gone down, and he’d looked more like himself again, though his good humor had yet to return.
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