“Sure, boss.”
Monty pulled his hands from his pockets and winced as the scratches caught on the wool trouser cloth. He turned to Nathan. “Bring some good thick gloves, too. Several pairs.”
With the help of Jesse and Santiago, they had the wire unraveled and laid out along the tree line by the time Nathan returned. The nails proved to be just the thing, especially when they tapped them into the tree a half inch, then bent them over to snug the wire in place.
After they’d secured the wire to three trees, Monty stepped back and eyed their work. “I think we’re going to have to pull it tighter, boys.” From being wound in rings inside the crate, the wire had developed kinks and coils and had a definite sway to it between the trees. Would that really hold in the livestock? They’d have to run a second strand for sure. This one was mounted at eye level to a full grown cow, but another wire would need to be hung a couple feet below it to keep in the younger animals.
By the time the sun hit the center of the noon sky, they’d made it halfway through the wire from the first crate. It had been slow going at first, but they were getting the hang of it now, with three men pulling the wire tight while the fourth nailed it to the tree. Of course, all four of them had cuts and gashes all the way up their arms from those wicked barbs.
One thing was for sure, this was a man’s job. He’d not be putting Grace through the rotation onto the fence-building crew. It was bad enough she pulled a man’s weight with the cattle.
~ ~ ~
GRACE NIBBLED AT her cinnamon roll as dinner conversation flowed around her. The men from the fence crew were chock-full of stories about how hard the wire was to hang. And with Luis among them, it seemed there’d been no shortage of pranks on the job either.
Over the past week and a half, the crew had been rotating a new man out each day, so her turn should come soon. In fact, now that she thought about it, she was the only hand that hadn’t been assigned fence duty. Not that she was eager, but…she was curious.
Would the wire really keep the cattle from barging right through? They’d been pasturing the herd in the southeast section of the ranch, closest to the Guadalupe, so she’d not even seen the work done on the north side yet.
Monty’s chair scraped as he pushed back from the table. An expectant hush fell over the room. “Nathan, you can take Jesse’s place with the fence tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
And then the flurry of motion and noise commenced as the men stood and filed toward the door.
Nathan? But he’d already worked his four days on the fence crew. Did that mean…? Grace bit her tongue, but she could feel the muscles across her forehead pulling tight.
She waited in the hallway as Monty spoke a few words to Mr. O’Brien, then fell into step behind the last of the men. As he passed her, he tipped his chin, but didn’t let his gaze meet hers. “G’night, Grace.”
“Monty?”
He paused and turned, still not quite looking her in the eyes.
“Can I have a word?”
He glanced toward the men slipping through the front door, then back at her. “Sure. You wanna go in the parlor or out on the porch?”
“The porch is fine.” Their voices would probably carry from the parlor, and the family didn’t need to hear her frustrations. Besides, the fresh night air would be a welcome relief.
He strode to the front door, then held it and motioned for her to precede him.
Grace stepped outside, inhaled a steadying breath, then turned on him. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I haven’t helped with the fence crew yet.”
“Really.” The word didn’t sound like a question, more like a patronizing statement.
She narrowed her eyes, but they’d not brought a lantern, and his face was shadowed in the darkness. He probably couldn’t see her either. “Really. Are you not planning for me to carry my load like the rest of the men?”
He was quiet for a long moment. Had he really forgotten her in the rotation? It wasn’t possible. So what was his objection? She’d just opened her mouth to ask him when he finally spoke.
“Grace.” His voice sounded so…resigned. No, almost pained.
“What is it, Monty?” She reached forward and touched his arm before she could stop herself. But she didn’t pull back. Not at first. Not until his chin dropped and she could feel the weight of his stare on her hand, even in the darkness.
Her muscles tensed to withdraw her reach, but before she could, the warmth of his hand settled over hers. He held her secure within his grasp, the heat of him sending tingles all the way up her arm. She wanted nothing more than to turn her wrist and entwine her fingers in his. Or maybe step closer, as his warmth seemed to draw her.
“Grace, I…” He stopped, and she barely breathed as she waited for him to speak again. What had they been discussing? It didn’t matter. If only she could see the expression in his dark, chocolate eyes.
With the slightest of squeezes, he removed his hand and stepped back, pulling his arm from her reach.
Her hand dropped to her side. Limp.
“Grace. I’m not planning to put you on the fence crew. I’d rather have you with the cattle.” And with that parting shot, he turned and strode down the stairs.
She stood rooted to the porch, trying desperately to force her thoughts into some semblance of order. She’d been so befuddled by his touch, she’d not even argued her case. Even now, there was no fight left in her.
Had he done that intentionally? Surely not. Surely he hadn’t missed the connection in their touch. Because her whole body still tingled from it. The warmth of his hand still pulsed through her arm. What was she supposed to do with that?
~ ~ ~
MONTY LAY IN his bunk, eyes wide open as the vigorous strains of a fiddle drifted through the air. This was no languid ballad like the last time Grace played. This one had spirit, as if she were venting fiery emotions through the instrument’s strings. If she was in half as much turmoil over their touch as he was, she’d be playing for hours.
What had he been thinking, holding her hand like that? But when she’d reached out, he’d not been able to stop himself. Well, actually he’d done a pretty decent job of stopping himself—from taking her in his arms and tasting those full lips.
Lord, what am I thinking? He scrubbed a hand down his face. He had to make a decision where Grace was concerned. ‘Cause having her on his staff—so close every single day—and treating her like any of the others was driving him loco. Muy loco.
But what were the other options? Send her away? Marry her? He’d known the woman less than two months. How on earth could he make that kind of decision in such a short amount of time?
If you don’t snatch her up, somebody else will. Bo’s words drifted back to haunt him. He bit back a groan and rolled onto his side. He wasn’t making a decision until God made the way clear.
Now if he could just make his mind and body remember that.
~ ~ ~
“EASY, GIRL. TIME to slow down for the night.” Grace gave the reins a gentle tug as the mare beneath her picked up speed. The ranch buildings were in sight, but the horse had put in a hard day’s work and needed to cool her muscles so she didn’t stove up in the corral tonight.
The line of cowpunchers had spread out as they’d trekked in from the pastures, some horses dragging more than others.
Santiago rode just in front of her. He glanced back, then reined his horse until he was beside her. “Weather sure has been nice these days.”
She glanced around at the bluebonnets just starting to bloom. “Yes, your Texas springs are pretty. Once you get past the rain anyway.”
Santiago cleared his throat. But then he didn’t say anything.
Grace turned to look at him. Sweat glistened on the man’s forehead, with a bead of it running down his temple. Was he ill? “Santiago, is everything all right?”
He cleared his throat again. “I, uh, was wondering if you have any plans after church tomorrow? I mean�
��” Again, his throat cleared, this time sounding a bit like a strangled calf. “If you don’t have anything else to do, would you like to go on a picnic? By the river. With me.”
Mercy. The last thing she wanted was to encourage romantic attention from him or any other man here. Except maybe Monty. No, not even Monty.
But as she glanced at the man beside her and tried her best to come up with a way to politely decline, she lost her nerve. His face was almost as white as when he’d been bitten by the rattler, and his eyes had that wide, scared look, like a jackrabbit about to dart into the bushes.
She forced a gentle smile. “That would be nice. I can put together a basket of food if you’d like.”
The smile that bloomed on his face bordered on ridiculous, but it certainly sent warmth through her chest. He’d been a good friend these last couple months. The least she could do was share a meal with him.
~ ~ ~
MONTY EYED THE handful of cowpunchers scattered around the table for Sunday lunch. It was typical for some of the men to skip the meal. He’d always given them freedom on their day off, except for church, of course.
But where was Grace? She’d never been absent before. Was she sick?
He glanced toward Jacob at the other end of the table, busy in a murmured conversation with his wife. His gaze wandered around the table. Santiago might know where she was. The two of them seemed to be decent friends since he’d paired them up when Grace first arrived. But Santiago looked to be absent, too.
Monty turned to Donato, who caught his gaze with a strange expression. Should he ask his cousin? Later. When they weren’t in front of a crowd.
But as he tried to follow Donato from the dining room, Jacob stopped Monty to talk about progress on the fence. By the time he stepped outside, Donato had disappeared. Not in the bunkhouse, not in the barn. He finally found him behind the house, perched on the stoop at the kitchen door and whittling a tiny piece of wood.
Monty settled onto the step beside him. “Watcha making?”
“Toy animals for the little master. They take me long enough, I might have the set done before he’s too old to play with them.” He held up the rough shape of an animal. A horse maybe. Or a donkey. For that matter it could be a cow. “You ever think about settling down, Monty? Having niños of your own?”
Monty cut his cousin a sideways glance. Donato focused on his knife as it scraped across the figurine’s back. Was he asking for more than general conversation?
“Maybe.” Only every other day for about fifteen years now. But he’d long since resigned himself to life as a bachelor. And he enjoyed running the ranch here. Working with his cousins and the others who were practically family. It took away the ache for a woman of his own. Most days.
He tightened his jaw. Those weren’t the thoughts he’d come out here to drudge up. “You know where Grace is this afternoon? Is she sick? It’s not like her to skip meals.”
Donato gave him a quick sideways glance, and a smile played at the corners of his mouth as he went back to studying the wood. “The way I heard it, she didn’t skip the meal. Santiago took her on a picnic by the river.”
Monty choked on the breath he’d just inhaled. “What?” Flashes of white flickered on the edge of his vision, as a weightless feeling washed through his head.
Donato shrugged. “Sounds like he’s got more brains than the rest of us. Not sayin’ I hadn’t thought about it myself, just hadn’t worked up the nerve yet.”
The weightlessness disappeared as blood pumped through Monty. Faster, harder. He could almost hear the thump in his chest. “And she agreed to it?”
Another shrug.
Vaulting to his feet, Monty paced several steps and spun. “Why didn’t you stop them?”
Donato raised a single brow. “Why would I do that? There’s no law against courting a grown woman. At least, not that I know of.”
“Why?” It took every ounce of his effort not to march over and yank Donato up by his shirt front. “Because he can’t… She can’t…” Oh, he wanted to holler. He had to get out of there before he did something really dumb.
Spinning on his heel, Monty strode for the barn.
“Monty.” Donato’s sharp command slowed Monty’s step only a little. “Don’t ride out there.”
His feet halted, but he didn’t turn around. Had he been planning to ride to the river? To break up their little outing? Dropping his head, he pressed his fingers into his temples. What was he doing?
Slowly, he turned to the right. North. Opposite from the direction of the river.
And he started walking. Past the bunkhouse, out into the fields, through the woods and all the way to Oklahoma if that’s what it took. He wouldn’t stop until he’d made a decision.
Chapter Eleven
MONTY’S BREATH CAME in deep lungfuls by the time his heartbeat finally settled to a tolerable speed. The row of barbed wire fence stood sentry not far ahead. He might really end up in Oklahoma at this point. But the fire was mostly gone from his veins now and had left behind a deep disturbance in his spirit.
He crouched down to sit on a log beside the trail, then pulled off his hat and tossed it to the ground. Bowing his head, he dragged in a deep inhale, stilling some of the turmoil in his mind.
After holding that posture for several moments, he tried to pray. “Lord.”
But no words came. God, I need help here. The cry came from deep within him, but it brought with it a measure of peace.
He stayed that way. Just…being. After a few moments, one of the verses from Psalms the pastor read that morning came back to him. Oh that men would praise the Lord for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men! For He satisfieth the longing soul, and filleth the hungry soul with goodness.
Longing soul. If that didn’t perfectly describe him, there weren’t any words that could. But what was it he craved so much? God setteth the solitary in families: he bringeth out those which are bound with chains. The verse flittered through his mind like a breeze.
Is that what had built up this powerful unrest? He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “God, I’ve been asking for a wife for years now. I just haven’t understood why You kept saying no.” To tell the truth, it’d been hard to forgive the Almighty each time he’d dangled a woman in front of Monty, then married her off to someone else. There were a few times it took a good long talk with the Lord to come to terms with whatever His master plan was.
“So what, God? What do you want from me now?” As much as he’d been trying to build a wall against her, Grace’s image took hold in his mind. Was this God’s special form of torture? Trying to teach him self-control?
“What do You want from me?” His words came louder this time, and he pressed fingers into his eye sockets to try to wipe away the images in his mind. “I know I can’t have her.”
Why not? The words were so real, he raised his head and looked around for the source.
Why not? Because she was his hired hand. Because he’d only known her a couple months. Because…
Because God had never said yes to a woman in his life before, how could he fathom Grace might be the answer this time?
Monty dropped his head and let it hang. Was that what this all boiled down to? God had been trying to hand him a blessing on a silver platter, but he’d been fighting it like a calf at branding? Surely he wasn’t that thickheaded.
“God, if you brought Grace for me, I’m gonna need You to give me a clear sign here. This is too big to mess up.”
A picture of Grace and Santiago sitting by the river formed in his mind. Not what he wanted to think about right now. Did she have feelings for the man? Would he be setting himself up for more heartbreak if he pursued her?
Bo’s words came to him again. If you don’t snatch her up, somebody else will. You better make your move quick.
Purpose flooded his chest, beating through his veins with every pump of blood. Yes, if God was blessing him with a woman—this woman—he was done being dull
-witted. It was time to woo her.
And his first step would be to stake his claim. No more picnics with Santiago. She was spoken for.
But it was a good thing Monty had the entire walk back to the ranch to think through his strategy. Showing up at the riverside to interrupt the picnic was probably not the best approach to win Grace’s heart. Although it’d work pretty well to embarrass her if that was his aim.
Nope. He needed to find a quiet time to talk with her. But should he come right out and say he wanted to marry her? Or be subtle and try to woo her? Women liked that sort of thing, didn’t they?
But how in the state of Texas was he supposed to do that? Certainly not while they worked with the cattle. He’d never live it down with the other men. And that wasn’t the way the boss should behave anyway. He’d have to find time in the evenings and on Sundays. And here he’d wasted almost the whole Sabbath already.
Maybe she’d be open to a walk after dinner tonight. His hands grew sweaty just thinking about it. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready for this courting thing. But he didn’t have time to waste. He’d have to push through his nerves like he pushed through the other obstacles in his life.
And the more he thought about it, the more having Grace in his life would be worth the effort.
~ ~ ~
FOR HAVING SPENT the day in rest, Grace was exhausted. She forced another bite of stew to her mouth. She wasn’t even that hungry after the late lunch with Santiago, and her head pounded at her temples.
They’d had a nice time by the river. The view certainly made the trip worthwhile, with all the blooming bluebonnets and cherry trees. Spring in Texas was a sight to behold.
But it had been a lot of work to keep the conversation going for several hours. The times she’d allowed it to lapse had grown quickly into uncomfortable silence, bringing back all those memories of social visits Mama would drag her on at nearby ranches.
The Rancher Takes a Cowgirl Page 8