Chapter 3
Everyone was tucked down deep in their sleeping bags when Haley awoke the next morning. She checked her watch with a tiny flashlight hooked on her spiral notebook. Four thirty. That meant Coosie would soon be up and the rest of the crew would stop snoring and start rounding up horses. Dewar had said that they’d be in their saddles no later than seven, and Coosie had said that he’d be up by five to start cooking.
She eased out of her sleeping bag, crammed her feet into her boots, and quietly removed a plastic bag containing deodorant, a washcloth, and a bar of soap from her saddlebag. The water wasn’t clear but it was wet, and she could wash up even if she did have to wear the same clothes another day. She walked up the creek several yards from where the cattle watered and found a spot where she couldn’t see a single cow or the wagon. She quickly pulled her shirt over her head, did a quick sponge-off, applied deodorant, and re-dressed.
She heard someone whistling and knew Coosie was awake, so she hurriedly jerked down her jeans and underpants. She’d been taught how to pee outdoors years ago by her older cousin when she and her mother visited Louisiana. She remembered the instructions well. Squat down, hook your thumb in the waistband, and hold your britches out to keep from getting pee on them.
She was feeling smug right up until she looked down and saw the huge spider sitting in the crotch of her black lace panties. She couldn’t yell or the cowboys would all come running, so she clamped her mouth shut tightly and didn’t move a muscle. Her legs cramped. Her toes ached. And the spider acted as if it intended to take up homesteading right there in her panties.
“Shooo,” she whispered through clenched teeth.
It hopped up to her thumb. She let go and sat down with a thud, kicking and flailing around like a dying fish out of water. Boots, jeans, and underpants flew through the air as she came out of them and tried to brush the feeling of a thousand imaginary vicious spiders from her legs at the same time. When she was absolutely certain that the big, brown-striped spider was gone, she shivered and realized that she was naked from the waist down.
She located her panties in a blackberry bramble and tore the lace getting them away from the evil clutches of the stickers. She checked every square inch for the spider and then stepped into them, feeling a little less vulnerable with something covering her bare butt. Her jeans had landed against the tree and the spider was sitting on the pocket like the king of a major world-power country. She found her boots near the water’s edge, snuck up on the creature, and swiftly executed him, leaving a smudge on her jeans. She wiped that away with her washcloth and then went back to the creek to clean it again.
“So much for your expert advice,” she fussed at her cousin who’d taught her to squat behind a tree on the banks of a Louisiana bayou. “Rustlers and spiders right here at the beginning. It’s not fair.”
Yeah, but just think what a neat thing that would be on the reality show, her cousin’s twangy Cajun voice said so close that she checked to see if Michelle was really there.
She folded her washcloth and stuffed it back in the ziplock bag with her soap and started back up the slight embankment when a hand appeared right in front of her. She took it without even thinking and her whole body warmed. When she looked up she was staring right into Dewar’s mesmerizing green eyes.
He pulled her up and said, “Mornin’.”
“Good morning,” she said.
“Ready for another day?”
“Do I have a choice?” She was surprised that her voice didn’t quiver after the incident with the spider and then the shock of his touch.
“Phone still has lots of juice. I’ll be glad to call Liz to come get you.”
She did a little “Hummmph.”
“Guess that means you are a sucker for punishment.”
“Get it through your thick head, Dewar O’Donnell, I’m not going back. I’m staying with this to the bitter end, no matter how much you don’t like a woman in your man-world,” she said.
“Okay then, get your bed tied down and your horse saddled up. Breakfast is almost ready and we’ll move out as soon as we’ve eaten. But remember, Haley, once the cell phone is dead you’ll have to hitchhike back because I’m damn sure not stopping this cattle drive to take you home.”
“I’d crawl on my hands and knees before I’d ask you, but I’m not going anywhere.”
He disappeared into the wooded area without another word.
She’d show him, by damn. And at the end he could eat a big helping of crow right along with the other cowboys. She might want more fizz than Joel had to offer, but she damn sure did not want it with a cowboy from Podunk, Texas. She would show them all that she could ride as long, complain less, and eat whatever was offered without bitchin’. Liz had told her to go stand up for womankind and she intended to take that job seriously, but it did not mean she was going to convert to cowgirlism!
Back in college she’d enrolled in the riding class to impress a cowboy. When they broke up her heart had been broken to the point that she’d vowed she’d never get involved with anyone who had any dealings with a farm, ranch, or even planted a vegetable garden in the backyard. Just because Dewar’s touch gave her hot flashes did not mean she was ready to break that vow.
And just because he reminded her of a mix of the lead male stars from Justified and Rookie Blues did not mean a blessed thing. They were characters and he was the real thing. The writers could change characters; she had a feeling that nothing or no one could change Dewar O’Donnell.
She stuffed her meager bath supplies inside her saddlebag and carefully rolled up her bed. The first time it looked entirely too loose so she undid it and started all over.
Dewar deftly whipped the edges of the tarp around his sleeping bag, tucked the ends over like a burrito, and tied it all tightly.
“Not bad for a second try,” Dewar drawled.
“I don’t do this for a living,” she smarted off.
“Well, I don’t either. I raise cattle and horses. I ride horses every day and I work the land. But at night I sleep in a house in a king-sized bed. I’m not a professional cattle driver either. Think of this as a vacation for me and the guys,” Dewar said.
“You’re not doing the reality show next spring?” she asked. “Didn’t my father hire you to head up the show? He talked about it at one of the meetings we had.”
“Hell, no! Me and the boys are having lots of fun. We ain’t got any plans of doing the real show,” he said.
“But you didn’t figure on a woman crashing your little boys’ clubhouse, did you?” she asked.
“No, we did not! But you did fairly well for a woman on the first day.”
Her eyes flashed anger. “A woman! I did as well as any one of you egotistical male cowboys.”
“Let’s just say that if you do as well as you did yesterday, we might not let the bobcats drag you off into the mesquite and eat you alive,” he said.
A chill ran up her backbone. Bobcats? “You tryin’ to scare me?”
Dewar’s eyes glittered. “I’m just statin’ facts. Watch out for the varmints and remember, I’ve still got cell phone power for a little longer. Oh, and I reloaded my gun with real bullets instead of buckshot, so if you steal it, you might remember that.”
“If a big cat comes lookin’ for me, I’ll convince him that I’m too tough to eat and send him over to you. I don’t need a gun for that.” She hoped her voice carried more bravado than she felt. Honestly! Bobcats?
Coosie rang the breakfast bell. The bedrolls had been rolled up for the day and all that was left was flattened green grass where they had been.
“Ham and eggs and biscuits,” Coosie said.
“Coffee?” Haley asked.
He poured a cup from an enormous blue granite pot and handed it to her. “Water is in the dishpans on the table over there, so wash your dishes and stack them up when you are done.”
Haley normally ate breakfast on the run. Usually it was a bagel to go with her Starbucks la
tte in the mornings. If she was running late it was a granola bar from her desk drawer sometime in the morning when she had time to chew and swallow between meetings. Her first thought was that she’d eat a biscuit and call it a morning, but the scrambled eggs and ham slices looked so good that she piled her plate full.
She looked around at the cowboys to see how they managed to balance a plate, a coffee cup, and eat all while standing up. They were carrying their food toward the back side of the wagon and using a fallen tree for a bench with their plates balanced on their knees.
Dewar motioned toward the end of the line right beside him. “Got enough room for you right here.”
She backed up and sat down easily. Too far back and eggs would go flying. Too far forward and she’d slide right off the slick old tree trunk and land smack on her butt for the second day.
“It won’t bite you,” Sawyer said with a twinkle in his near-black eyes.
“But it might buck me off. I never was too good on a mechanical bull,” she answered.
“Aha, Haley has been to Billy Bob’s,” Sawyer said.
“No, she has not,” she said quickly.
“Well, where did you ride a mechanical bull?” Dewar asked.
“At the Texas State Fair.” She set about eating without another word.
“First one I ever rode was at a fair,” Rhett said. “Spent twenty bucks before I tamed that long-horned critter.”
“First one I ever rode was at Billy Bob’s. I won a six-pack for staying on it with a beer in my free hand the whole time,” Sawyer said.
“Yeah, well, you been ridin’ the real bulls since you was in diapers,” Rhett told him.
“And drinkin’ beer nearly that long,” Finn added.
Haley tucked away facts as she ate. That evening she’d write down everything she could remember because it could make a difference on the reality run. One thing for sure, after one day on the trail, she would not be coming back to help direct the reality show. Her father could fire her and she’d flip burgers at McDonald’s before she traveled the historic Chisholm Trail again. Let Pretty Boy Joel live in the wilderness for several weeks. By damn, that ought to send him back to his precious Hollywood with his tail tucked between his legs.
Her hips felt as if they’d been torn from the sockets. If she had a floor-length mirror like the one on the back of her bathroom door, she was sure she’d see purple bruises on her butt cheeks. And if she didn’t have the makings for skin cancer with all the sun exposure by the end of the month, it would be a pure damn miracle. And that wasn’t even taking into account that her skin would have holes eaten in it from salty sweat. How did pioneer women ever survive without moisture cream or hand lotion?
A soft moan escaped her lips.
“What?” Coosie asked.
“Good food,” she mumbled.
Coosie smiled. “Thank you, Haley. We’ll be havin’ more of that ham today so I’m glad you like it. We’ll have leftover eggs and ham stuffed in biscuits for lunch and then for supper we’re havin’ it fried up with potatoes and onions.”
“Sounds yummy,” she said.
“Don’t be sarcastic. When we slice into a salt-cured ham, we have to use it all or it will spoil.”
She pointed her fork at him. “I was not being sarcastic. I love ham. It’s one of my favorite foods.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, enjoy it because when it runs out we’ll have to live off the land. You ever eaten wild game?” Dewar asked.
She glared at him. “Of course.”
“In Dallas? Come on. You have not!” Dewar said.
“Squirrel, rabbit, or venison—I’ve had them all, along with nutria and every kind of fish that came out of the swamp in Louisiana when I went to visit my cousins. So don’t be calling me a liar,” she said.
Coosie chuckled. “Guess that disgusting look on your face means you ain’t too partial to it, though, doesn’t it?”
“Does Dewar like wild game?” she asked.
“Yes, I do. Coosie can fry rabbit and squirrel so tender you think you are eating chicken,” he answered.
“If you eat it, I’ll eat it. Whether I like it or not doesn’t really matter. Just like my reality crew. They’ll eat whatever is provided for them and if they bitch about it they’ll lose points and get the honor of being the first ones kicked off the show,” she said.
Buddy chuckled and looked at Haley. “I’m goin’ to saddle up. I’ll get yours, M-m-miz Haley.”
“Thank you. Let me watch so I can do it tomorrow morning.” She quickly ate the last bite of her biscuit and followed him to the dishpans.
They washed, dried, and stacked their plates, spoons, and cups at the back of the table and moved to one side for Dewar and Sawyer.
“You don’t have to saddle or unsaddle. We can do that for you,” Finn said.
Haley was close enough that she could see the tiny gold flecks in Dewar’s eyes. Her answer to Finn’s offer was a test and she’d pass it or die trying.
“I need to learn as much as I can so I can help when it comes time to put the show together. The contestants will all be even greener than I am and they’ll have to learn,” she said sweetly.
“Green? Lord, girl, I believe you could saddle the devil and ride him right through the Pearly Gates.” Dewar laughed.
She smiled. “In high heels if I don’t step in a fresh cow patty. Now you are getting to know me, cowboy. Thank you for the compliment.”
“It was not a compliment,” he mumbled.
“I’ll take it however I want,” she said.
Buddy led Apache up to Haley and handed her the reins. He set the saddle on the ground, rubbed Apache’s back to make sure there wasn’t a bit of dirt or a burr in his hair, and then tossed the blanket across the middle of his back.
Haley kept a loose hold on the reins and started around to the other side, but Buddy shook his head. “This side, m-m-ma’am. Don’t never go on that side.”
She nodded and watched carefully. Buddy eased the stirrup and cinch over the blanket and explained that was to keep from hitting the horse and scaring him. Then he lifted the saddle high and gently lowered it onto the horse, telling her that was to keep the flaps from hitting him. After that he checked the blanket all around the saddle to be sure the saddle didn’t rub sores on him.
He explained that the fork should rest neatly over the withers and she should always lower the right stirrup and cinch and not just give them a toss because they might slap Apache. After that he lifted up on the front part of the saddle pad to create an air space between the blanket and the withers. He talked about the cinch, the latigo, and the rigging ring next and how to be careful that the cinch wasn’t twisted. She glanced over at Dewar, who was busy performing all the same steps without even thinking about it. Would she ever remember everything and be as comfortable doing it as he was?
“I’ll help you tomorrow m-m-morning,” Buddy said.
She patted him on the shoulder. “It might take a few days for me to get the hang of it.”
“That’s okay, m-m-ma’am.” He grinned and whistled shrilly. His big buckskin horse trotted over to him and Buddy rubbed his nose.
“You’re a good boy, Major,” he crooned. “You’re going to d-d-do alright, old boy.”
Haley rubbed Apache’s nose but she couldn’t make herself talk to him. Maybe by the end of the trip she’d like the horse, but right now it was the cause of her legs aching and her tailbone feeling like it was poking through her skin. And if she said anything to him, it would probably be peppered with enough cuss words to scorch the hair out of his ears.
Dewar and the other three cowboys were already in the saddle and rounding up a herd of mixed breed of cattle with the one rangy old brown and white mottled longhorn bull. He reminded Haley of the king of the mountain game she and Michelle played with the Cajun cousins. He meandered along ahead of the rest of the herd showing the whole bunch that he was the leader and the rest of the stock had best be walking behind him at least two step
s.
“Kind of like Dewar,” Haley mumbled and quickly looked around to see if anyone heard her.
She checked the ground for fresh horse manure, got a good foothold in the stirrup and a handhold on the saddle horn, and mounted up for the day. Shooting pains went from her fanny to the top of her head when she plopped down into the saddle. Her inner thighs felt like a dock hooker the morning after a ship of sailors came in from a six-month sea tour. She wrapped the reins around the saddle horn and jerked on her gloves. They weren’t made for riding but for driving and she hoped they lasted a month.
She’d put the next expensive pair on her expense account right along with the price of her fancy shoes and suit if Liz’s cleaners couldn’t get the stains and the smell of crap out of them. Oh yes, sir, her father was going to rue the day that he sent her on this trip.
Chapter 4
If you are not the lead dog, the view never changes.
By mid-morning, Haley had decided the person who came up with that quote was the smartest person since Einstein and deserved a Pulitzer Prize for writing the single sentence. She’d seen nothing since she’d saddled up the day before but the south ends of northbound cattle, and the view was not a pretty one.
If she had a lick of sense, she would take Dewar up on his offer to use the last of his cell phone battery to call Liz to come get her. With what she already had to contribute to the reality show, she might be forgiven for not lasting until the end of the cattle run. But that would make her unworthy of the straw hat and denim jacket. Liz had entrusted her with both and they’d already become the equivalent of a queen’s crown and velvet robe. Giving them back without finishing the drive would be like giving up a Miss America title.
If only she hadn’t read that excerpt from Cheryl Brooks’s upcoming book, her thoughts might not keep going to Dewar’s sexy green eyes or the ripped abs she imagined underneath his shirt. She vowed to read nothing but sweet romances from that day forth.
She shut her eyes tightly and tried to remember the last book she’d read that had no sex. It had to have been back when she was still in grade school because in junior high she found her mother’s stash of Jude Deveraux and Bertrice Small novels and from then on she was hooked on hot, steamy romances.
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