by Ginna Gray
Nevertheless, her relentless antagonism toward him had to stop. The man had saved her life, for Pete's sake. And he'd risked his own to do it. They didn't have to be friends, but it wouldn't kill her to be polite. He deserved that much.
She sat up and wiped her teary eyes with her fingertips. When he came back she would apologize. She would also thank him for saving her life. And in the future, she would be polite to him, she swore. Even if it killed her.
She would start by making herself useful.
Willa jumped up and went to the counter and rummaged through the crude cabinets underneath and located a can of coffee and a blue-speckled enamel coffeepot, the kind they used on a campfire.
A short while later she was hunkered down in front of the potbellied stove, stuffing more wood into the firebox when the door banged open and Zach stepped inside carrying a load of firewood in his arms and saddlebags and a bedroll over his shoulder. A blast of frigid wind and snow blew in around him until he shouldered the door shut again.
Standing, Willa held out her hands to the heat rising from the stove's surface and peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. Without so much as looking at her, Zach stomped across the room and dumped the wood into the woodbox.
"I made some coffee. Would you like some?"
He glanced at her, his expression remote. "Later. Right now I need to bring in more firewood. We're going to need it tonight. While I do that, why don't you start dinner?"
"Dinner?"
He cocked one brow. "Don't tell me you can't cook."
"Oh, and I suppose you can?" she snapped before remembering her vow to be cordial.
"Nothing fancy, but I manage. I figure if you eat, you ought be able to feed yourself. You can't always expect others to put a meal on the table for you."
Put that way, Willa couldn't very well argue, but knowing he was right didn't take away the sting. Though she knew she worked as hard or harder than anyone else on the ranch, the matter-of-fact statement made her feel inadequate and lazy, as though she were some spoiled little rich girl who never lifted a finger.
Hurt and defensive, she ground her teeth and hitched one shoulder. "I guess not. But since Maria has always done all the cooking, I never had to learn. Anyway, I prefer ranch work."
"So do I." Willa was certain she saw disdain in his eyes, but he turned and headed for the door. "All right, I'll do the cooking," he said over his shoulder. "But you can at least make yourself useful and man this door for me."
Zach hauled in five more loads of firewood. When the woodbox overflowed he dumped the extra on the floor beside it.
"Do we need so much?"
"If you want the fire to last until morning, we do. I'm sure as hell not going out in that storm in the middle of the night to get more."
His tone instantly put Willa's back up. She opened her mouth to make a pithy comment, then closed it again and ground her teeth harder. "Yes, of course. I should have realized."
Zach raised an eyebrow. Clearly he had expected a more heated reply.
He stomped the snow off of his boots and knocked more off of his long duster before shucking out of the garment and hanging it, along with his scarf and hat, on wall pegs by the door, but he did not remove the heavy coat he wore underneath. The woodstove had raised the temperature in the cabin, but it still hovered around freezing.
In the kitchen area, Zach located another kerosene lamp, lit it and placed it in the middle of the rickety table. He returned to the counter and primed the old pump with a jar of water kept under the sink for that purpose, then worked the handle up and down until water gushed out into a chipped enamel dishpan. After washing his hands, Zach pulled a kettle from beneath the counter, filled it with water and set it on one of the stove's two burners to heat while he went to work. The coffeepot simmered on the other.
"Can I help?"
Zach arched one blond eyebrow. His green eyes fixed her with a look that made her cheeks heat.
Determined to do something useful, she poured a cup of the strong "cowboy" coffee and set it on the counter beside him. Zach barely acknowledged the gesture with a curt "Thanks."
"You're welcome. I'll, uh … I'll set the table."
The meal of canned stew and biscuits that Zach prepared was surprisingly delicious. Either that, or Willa was so ravenous anything would have tasted like ambrosia. If you didn't count the bite of roast beef she'd had for dinner the previous night, she hadn't eaten since lunch the day before.
She had psyched herself up to apologize and wanted to get it over with. Throughout the meal she waited for an opening to broach the subject, but Zach's expression did not encourage conversation. Every time she tried to initiate a discussion he was cool and distant and responded with a curt reply meant to cut her off, so for the most part they ate in silence.
Finally she couldn't stand the hostile silence a minute longer.
"All right, that's it. I've had enough of your cold shoulder," she announced. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm truly sorry. You're right, I shouldn't have driven those cattle up here. It was a reckless, irresponsible, stupid thing to do."
He stopped eating and fixed her with a hard look. "So why did you?"
Willa exhaled a gusty sigh and grimaced. "Just what you said. My temper got the best of me."
He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised her hands and silenced him. "I know, I know. I had no reason to get so angry. You were just trying to look out for my welfare. But the thing is, I've had a lifetime of Seamus ordering me around and directing my life. When he died I swore I'd never let anyone do that again. I guess when I found out you'd already made an appointment for me with the doctor and arranged for Kate to drive me, you hit a nerve."
"So you decided to strike back by defying me. But why the cattle? There were plenty of other things you could have done that would have angered me without risking lives and property. Hell, you came up here totally unprepared. You didn't bring any food with you or emergency gear or even a winter coat."
"I know, I know. It was an impulsive decision. I was just so angry I wasn't thinking. I felt as though I had to do something or I was going to explode." She spread her hands. "Driving the cattle to summer range just happened to be the first thing that occurred to me."
"Great. So every time you get ticked off at me over some imagined insult you're going to pull another stunt like this?"
"No! At least … I hope not. From now on I'm going to do my darnedest to think things through before I act. I promise."
Doubt glittered in his green eyes. "I don't know. That's one helluva temper you've got, lady. It's not going to be that easy to control."
"But that's just it. I've never had what you'd call a volatile temper until—" She stopped abruptly and caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Uh, that is…"
"Until my brothers and I moved in? Is that what you were about to say?" When Willa reluctantly nodded, he just looked at her, his expression remote, unreadable. "In other words, I rub you the wrong way." He shook his head and snorted. "Well, that's not likely to change, is it? And I'm sure as hell not going anywhere. So there goes your good intentions."
"Okay, fine, don't believe me. Don't accept my apology," she said in an offended voice.
"I didn't say that. I know you're sorry and that you didn't mean any real harm."
"You do?"
"Sure. You don't have a malicious bone in your body. Trust me, if I didn't believe that, you and I would have had a showdown long before now. You're just frustrated because you feel you've been cheated. Hey, I agree. You have. But I can't do anything to change that. You need a target for all that anger, and since you hate my guts, I seem to be elected."
"I don't hate you!" she exclaimed, appalled that he would think such a thing.
"Really. You could've fooled me."
Willa held his gaze for a long time, unsure what to say. She couldn't very well explain that he made her feel things she'd never experienced before, that he made her aware of her own body, her own femininity in
ways that made her feel vulnerable and edgy. Or that she was afraid of where those feelings would lead.
She certainly couldn't tell him that she suspected Seamus had set them up, hoping to manipulate them into marriage. That would be too humiliating to bear, especially since she did not seem to have the same effect on Zach that he had on her.
No. It was better if she let him believe she disliked him.
"All right. So we won't ever be friends. But since it looks like we're going to be stuck here together for a while, do you think we could possibly call a truce, at least for the duration? I don't relish the thought of spending the next day or two locked in battle. It's too exhausting."
Zach regarded her over the top of his tin coffee mug. "Fine by me."
"Good."
They both returned their attention to the meal, and for several minutes a peaceful, if tentative, silence stretched out, the only sounds the scrap of spoons against tin. They were almost finished when, out of the blue, Zach said, "So, since we're being so cordial, mind if I ask you a friendly question?"
Willa shot him a wary look. "I suppose not."
"How is your wrist?"
"It's fi—"
His eyebrows shot skyward, and she stopped abruptly, chagrined when she realized the reply and her strident tone had been an automatic response. "Sorry. Habit. Actually, it hurts like the very devil."
"I thought it might. I noticed you've been favoring it. Let's have a look."
Before she realized his intent, Zach's took her hand and pushed her coat sleeve up as far as he could. "Mmm. No wonder it hurts. Your bandage has come loose. It needs to be rewrapped. Let's slip your arm out of this sleeve, okay?"
"I … okay."
With Zach's help, she worked her arm free, but by then her wrist was throbbing. She gritted her teeth as he unwound the loose bandage. A livid purple discolored her skin halfway up to her elbow and over her hand, even in between her fingers.
"Can you flex your fingers?"
"I think so."
"Good. Now slowly rotate your hand. How does that feel?"
"It hurts, but it's not too bad. Just a throbbing ache. It's only excruciating when it's under stress, like when I grip something or have to pull with that hand."
"Mmm." He slid the kerosene lamp closer to her hand and leaned in for a better look.
Willa's breath caught. When her lungs began to function again her breathing was shallow and rapid. She stared down at the top of Zach's head, at that shock of wheat-colored hair, and her heart did a funny little flip-flop in her chest. Each individual strand glittered like burnished gold in the lamplight. This close, she could smell it – some sort of citrusy shampoo mixed with his tantalizing male scent.
"That's one heck of a bruise. It also looks a little more swollen than last night, but that's probably because you used it too much riding up here." He gently pressed on the puffy flesh with his forefinger. "Does that hurt?"
Willa was so distracted the question didn't register at first. "Uh, n-no. It's just sore." In truth, all she could feel was the warm touch of that calloused finger against her skin.
"I think it's just sprained, but I'd feel better if you had a doctor look at it when we get off this mountain."
"I, uh, I will."
He glanced up at her. His face wore the same fathomless expression, but for once surprise and a touch of humor glittered in his eyes. "What, no argument?"
"It hurts."
"Ah." He carefully wound the Ace bandage and clipped it in place. "There. That will keep it immobile, which will help ease the pain."
He looked up again, and their gazes met. Held. Their faces were so close she could feel his breath feathering over her skin like a caress. Neither moved. The air seemed to have grown suddenly thick. Willa's heart began to pound so hard she felt a vein in her neck pulsing, heard the heavy beat reverberating in her ears. Fluttering wings of panic beat in her stomach. Still, she could not move, could not look away from those hypnotizing green eyes.
A howling gust of wind rattled the door, and Zach's head whipped around toward the sound, breaking the spell.
"I brought a first-aid kit with me," he announced abruptly, and shot to his feet. "I'll see if I can find some painkillers for you."
He strode away and rummaged through the saddlebags he'd dumped on the floor beside the door. Willa closed her eyes and slumped in the chair, and the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding came whooshing out.
"Here you go. Hold out your hand." Willa complied, and he shook two tablets out into her palm. "That should dull the pain somewhat."
"Thanks."
"No problem." He picked up their bowls and started to move away, but she grasped his coat sleeve and stopped him.
"Zach, wait." She gazed up at him, feeling horribly awkward but determined to speak her piece. "I never thanked you for saving my life. I just want you to know that I appreciate what you did."
"You don't have to thank me. I would have done the same for anyone."
She didn't doubt that, but it hadn't escaped her that she would have died if he hadn't come after her … and then the Rocking R would have belonged entirely to him and his brothers. "That may be, but it was me you risked your life to save, and I am grateful. I just wanted you to know that."
He stared at her for a moment, his expression, as usual, unreadable. Finally he dipped his chin in a quick nod and carried the bowls to the counter.
Willa cleared the table of the remaining items, and while Zach washed up, she dried. They worked in silence for a while, but that soon began to grate on her nerves, and she searched for a safe topic of conversation.
"So … how long were you a rodeo rider?"
"Ten years."
"Really? Then you didn't start until you were in your mid-twenties. Isn't that a little old to take up such a dangerous occupation?"
He slanted her a look out of the corner of his eye and kept scouring the stew pot. "I was twenty-six. And, yeah, I guess you could say that."
She waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't she probed a little deeper. "So what did you do before that?"
"In college I majored in business and ranch management. After graduation I worked as assistant manager of the Triple C Ranch in Colorado."
Willa gaped at him. "You managed the Triple C?"
"Yeah. You've heard of it?"
"Of course I've heard of it. Everyone in ranching has heard of the Triple C. It's one of the few spreads in the country that rivals this one." Recalling the assumptions she'd made about his ranching experience, Willa felt absolutely foolish. "You might have told me."
"Would it have made any difference?"
She thought that over, and sighed. "Probably not."
"That's what I figured."
"With a job like that, why on earth did you leave it to take up rodeoing?"
Zach swished the tin bowl he'd just washed through the pan of rinse water and handed it to her. "Working on the Triple C was great, but I wanted a place of my own. After four years I realized that I needed to do something with the potential to earn large chunks of money fast. There are some rich purses in rodeos. Particularly the big ones like those in Houston or Dallas. If you consistently finish in the top five or so and avoid getting busted up, you can sock away a good chunk of change."
"And did you?"
"I did all right. I won my share of events, and I lived frugally. I figure, barring any major injuries, I was about two years away from having enough saved to buy a spread in Texas that I've had my eye on. Nothing on the scale of this place, mind you, but a sweet little setup all the same."
"Was your adoptive father a rancher? Is that how you got interested in the business?"
"No, he was a mining engineer. He was superintendent of one of the last gold mines in the Colorado Rockies. I think he was a little disappointed when I didn't follow in his footsteps, but mining just wasn't for me. As far back as I can remember all I've ever wanted to do was ranch. It's just something that's in my blood."
Yes, it would be, Willa thought. She studied his profile, that strong face with its sharply chiseled features, and for the first time a feeling of acceptance settled over her.
The absolute rightness of Zach and his brothers inheriting the Rocking R suddenly struck her with such blinding clarity that she wondered how she could ever have denied it. This place had been carved out of the wilderness by generations of Raffertys before them. Had it not been for Seamus's controlling nature and rigidity, Zach, J.T. and Matt would have been born here, grown up here, and eventually have inherited the whole kit and caboodle. The Rock R was their heritage, not hers.
Oh, she had worked the land and given the ranch her all for twenty years, but it had never quite been hers. Not the way it was Zach's. Or Matt's or J.T.'s. If anyone was the interloper here, it was her, she realized with a pang.
"How about you?" Zach asked, handing her a rinsed cup. "I know you said you were born on a small ranch near here, but it's unusual for a woman to get so involved in the day-to-day operation of a place like you have. What sparked your interest in ranching?"
"Oh, that's easy. I was trying to impress Seamus."
"Why, for Pete's sake? The man was a tyrant."
"True, but he was also the only father figure I had, and I realized soon after my mother and I moved here that the only thing that mattered to Seamus was the Rocking R. So I set about learning everything I could about ranching." A wry half smile tipped up one corner of her mouth. "At first I thought that would please him. Later, when I was a bit older, I figured if I made myself indispensable to him, he would have to love me.
"It didn't work, of course. At best, he tolerated me. I don't think Seamus was capable of loving anyone. It's just too bad I didn't realize that until I was grown."
"How old were you when you came here?"
"Six. My own father died when I was barely five years old. I don't have any memory of him at all – just a few old photos. My mother tried, but she couldn't work the ranch by herself, and a year after my dad's death the bank foreclosed. We were about to be turned out on the street when Seamus came to our rescue. I guess he figured since she'd already had one child, she would be a good breeder. He offered her marriage and lifetime security. All she had to do was give him a son.