by Jill Gregory
Otter Jones, a patch on one eye, glared belligerently through the other one. “Well, that’s not what that there lady said. She told me you’d pay thirty dollars for me to mend some fences and uh . . . somepin’ else . . .” He scratched his head, squinting, trying to remember.
“She said you needed cowpunchers to ride out for a few days and round up strays.” A short, barrel-chested man with a shaggy black beard that covered the entire lower half of his face staggered forward. “And she said we’d git thirty dollars fer it!”
Wade’s tone remained even, but it held a note of unmistakable finality. “She made a mistake. We’ve got all the hands we need.”
“I disagree. I hired these men,” Caitlin said staunchly. “And I expect you to give them some work to do and pay them accordingly.”
“Yeah, you heard the lady.” Otter wheeled toward the foreman, a menacing light sparking in his small black eye. “She hired that there wagon and the horse so we could get out here. She said we’d each”—he hiccuped suddenly, spat, and continued—“she said we’d each git our own horse. And thirty dollars. I don’t know about anyone else, but I got a helluva lot of whiskey I could buy with thirty dollars, and some dandy rolls in the hay with Opal’s gals, and I ain’t leavin’ till I get my pay.”
By now the rest of Cloud Ranch’s wranglers had come out to the corral to see what all the fuss was about, and as Otter finished speaking, they each stood up straighter, wariness in their faces.
“Ma’am, maybe you should go back to the house,” Jake Young addressed Caitlin in a low tone.
Dirk’s hand brushed down toward his gun though he didn’t pull it out of the holster.
Caitlin felt the tension crackling through the air. She hadn’t expected this. She’d thought Wade would confront her—not these men. And she hadn’t realized the men would be so upset about not getting the jobs she’d promised. It hadn’t appeared to her that any of them cared to do any work—she’d heard from the bartender at the saloon that they were all notorious drunks who picked up odd jobs now and then and often didn’t even show up.
Perhaps her mistake had been in offering them so much money. But she’d wanted to guarantee they showed up— otherwise how could she have harassed Wade?
The trouble was, she now reflected uneasily, thirty dollars was a hefty sum. Maybe too hefty for these men to give up on without a fight.
“You’ll all receive your thirty dollars,” she said hurriedly, turning to the men with what she hoped was an appeasing smile. “I apologize for the misunderstanding, but . . .”
“The hell they will.” Wade’s eyes were cold. “Two dollars apiece for your trouble.” That icy glance touched each man in turn. “And a ride back to town in the wagon.”
“Hell and damnation! Damn your two dollars, Barclay!” Otter exploded. “She said thirty and I ain’t leavin’ till I get it!”
“Me, either!”
“Me, too!”
Several others stepped forward angrily, and Otter suddenly rounded on Caitlin and grabbed her arm.
“You’re a damned liar, lady!” he shouted into her face.
Wade’s fist caught him hard in the jaw and sent him sprawling into the dust. “That’s about enough out of you, Jones,” he said quietly. “Apologize to the lady and get the hell off my land.”
“Apologize? Like hell!” Uttering a string of oaths Jones tried to surge to his feet, but Wade knocked him down again. When the barrel-chested man suddenly swung a fist at Jake Young, he too was sent flying with a hard right punch from the youthful cowboy.
Suddenly Dirk had drawn his gun. And so had Miguel and Rooster.
“Anyone else have an objection to a wage of two dollars?” Dirk drawled softly.
Caitlin swallowed hard. Despite the warm sunshine sparkling across the corral and blazing off the surrounding grassland, she was chilled to the bone. She hadn’t expected any of this. She’d thought Wade would be annoyed and angry at having to waste time sending the men away, but never that the situation would become this dangerous and volatile.
“We’re goin’ . . . I reckon. Keep your shirts on.” The barrel-chested man was eyeing the drawn guns.
“Do we still git the two dollars?” another man asked, pushing straggly brown hair out of his eyes.
“Yes.” Wade spoke evenly. “If you leave without any more trouble.” He swiftly surveyed the group, as calmly as if he were counting chickens in a coop. He pulled a money pouch from his pocket and peeled off several bills. In total silence, each man accepted what was offered and slouched away toward the wagon, grumbling. One or two threw baleful glances Caitlin’s way. At last Otter Jones stumbled to his feet.
He reached out a grimy hand for the money, but Wade closed his fist around the last of the bills. “Apologize to the lady.”
Jones shook his head. “Damned if I will.”
Wade stuffed the remaining money back into the pouch.
Otter Jones shot him a look full of hatred, then fixed that vicious glance on her. “Sorry, ma’am,” he muttered, but there was no mistaking the venom underlying his words.
Wade yanked the money out once more and thrust it at him. “You steer clear of Miss Summers,” he said softly. “If you know what’s good for you.”
“Mebbe I will and maybe I won’t,” he muttered as he headed toward the wagon.
Humbled and uneasy, Caitlin turned toward the foreman. “I’m sor—”
But before she could get the apology out, Wade Barclay seized her arm and began dragging her toward the barn.
“Boss—take it easy,” Baldy called. He’d seen that look on Wade’s face before. He knew it meant trouble, trouble for that little bundle of blond femininity. Big trouble.
Jake knew it too. “Hey, boss, maybe you should cool down a mite before—”
“Get to work!” The snarl encompassed all of the wranglers. They knew better than to argue with Wade when he was in this mood. He was a fair man, far more steady-tempered than most, but when he got riled, watch out.
“I wouldn’t want to be in that little lady’s shoes,” Dirk remarked, and then swung up onto his bay horse.
The others all agreed. The last thing they saw before riding out was the barn door slamming on their boss and on Reese’s beautiful little handful of a daughter.
Chapter 8
The barn was dim, with only two high narrow windows letting in any light at all. In the hay-scented darkness, Caitlin wrenched away from Wade and stood her ground.
“How dare you drag me in here like a sack of potatoes!”
“I wouldn’t drag a sack of potatoes—I’d toss it over my shoulder. Maybe that’s what I should have done to you.”
“Why don’t you try it?” she invited, a challenging light in her eyes. She plopped her hands on her hips in a defiant posture, too angry to care how far she pushed him. “You’ll regret it if you lay one hand on me. The last man who tried to . . .” She broke off and bit her lip. She wasn’t about to tell Wade about Dominic Trent. He didn’t need any ammunition about her past to use against her.
“Well, you don’t want to know what happened to him,” she summed up grimly.
“Probably he got what he deserved.” Wade regarded her steadily. “What did he try to do?”
“That’s none of your business. I was only attempting to give you fair warning, but it’s not important.” Caitlin took a deep breath, remembering Becky, remembering what was important. “Suppose you tell me why you didn’t take advantage of the extra hands I hired.” It wouldn’t do to be defensive—she had to revert back to her original plan. “It’s my opinion that the ranch could benefit from—”
“From employing irresponsible drunks who only care about where their next bottle of red-eye is coming from?” he interrupted her. “From offering those same drunks more money than our wranglers make in a month—stirring up unrest and dissatisfaction?” he continued, each word striking like flint.
“As part owner I have every right to—oh!!!”
Sh
e gave a gasp as he caught her wrist and yanked her toward him. She landed hard up against his chest.
“Do you know what you need?”
Eyes wide, she was positive she didn’t want to know. “I need you to release my arm this instant.”
“You need a good paddling, princess.”
“P-paddling?”
“Spanking,” he told her grimly, and the gleam in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat.
“You wouldn’t dare.” She tried to jerk free of his grip, but it only tightened.
“Don’t push me,” he said very softly. “I know what you’re up to and it won’t work. I’m not buying your share, not for a year—no matter how much of a damned nuisance you make of yourself.”
So he’d figured it out. Satisfaction surged through her. It didn’t matter if he knew what she was up to—he would still be driven to distraction by her plan. What had happened this morning was only the beginning—there was much, much more she could do to disrupt both his life and the running of the ranch, until he gave in and agreed to let her leave.
“You may not agree with my decisions about the ranch but I have as much right as you to make them.” Still caught in his grasp, Caitlin lifted her head so that she met his gaze squarely. Standing this close to him was having a powerful effect on her heartbeat—for some reason it was racing. And her breath seemed trapped in her chest as she gazed into his blue eyes, but that must be due to the intense anger he stirred in her by his very existence. “And I will continue to make decisions about the day-to-day business of Cloud Ranch, despite your objections—so don’t think you can use brute force to intimidate me.”
“Intimidate you?” He threw back his head and laughed. “I can’t imagine anything intimidating you. You’re made of rock, of steel.” Suddenly his gaze flickered over her with a keen scrutiny somehow different from the way he’d glared at her before. “Or so you’d have me think.”
This time she really did try to wrench away from him. When she couldn’t break free, she kicked at him and heard his indrawn breath as her boot connected with his shin. But his grip was still ironclad, and he jerked her even closer against him, so close she could feel the granite strength of his chest. Suddenly one arm imprisoned her waist, and unexpectedly he grinned.
That grin made her tremble. It transformed his face— before he’d been handsome in a stern, intimidating way— now he looked so devastatingly appealing—almost boyish—that she could well imagine a row of women swooning over that grin.
Which is exactly what made her angry enough to shove against him with all her strength, trying to knock him off-balance but she may as well have tried to knock over a stone wall. And her attempt somehow backfired. He whipped both arms around her with lightning speed and dragged her down with him into a wide pile of hay.
He rolled atop her and pinned her beneath him, ignoring her gasped protests.
“You . . . let me up . . . right this . . . minute!”
“Not until I’ve had my say. If this is the only way I can get your attention, princess, then that’s how it’s going to be.”
Caitlin fought. She twisted, writhed, and squirmed, trying to kick him, hurt him, escape any way she could, but Wade wasn’t even breathing hard and he held her helpless beneath him without any effort at all.
At last, breathless and frustrated, she finally stopped struggling.
“That’s better,” he said, but she thought his voice sounded hoarse.
“Listen up,” he continued, his fingers still clamped around her wrists, his gaze riveted to hers. “I want you to stop trying to cause trouble and to just look around you. Try to appreciate where you are, the gift you’ve been given. You and I have to try to get along. I’m willing, if you are. Reese would want it that way—”
“I’m sick of hearing about Reese!”
He frowned. “If Reese were here right now, he’d be plenty worried about you. You made an enemy today.”
Caitlin was finding it difficult to think straight. A small ache had begun deep inside her and was spiraling through her. She wished Wade would let her up, put some distance between them.
“You mean . . . Otter Jones,” she murmured, summoning her wits.
“That’s right.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“You should be.” The sternness returned to his face and he shifted his weight as she gave a small squirm of frustration beneath him. “Just the same, you shouldn’t wander off alone for a while,” he warned. “Give me a chance to find him in town and let him know he’d better leave you alone—”
“I don’t need you to protect me.” With renewed determination, she began to struggle again. Coming to her senses, she called it. For a few moments, lying upon the hay with his breath warm on her cheek, with his big, muscled body atop hers, she had gone completely mad. Now she was sane again, back in the real world, trapped beneath the most infuriating man in the world, and furious at her own helplessness.
“You obviously need someone to look after you,” Wade said sharply, but there was a strange tightening in his chest as he studied the angry fire of her eyes and the stubborn set of her lushly beautiful mouth. “Looks like I’ve been elected to the job,” he muttered, but suddenly his head flew up as the barn door swung open and Baldy stuck his head in. The old wrangler peered through the dusk.
“Who’s here? That you, Wade?”
In a flash Wade had released Caitlin and sprung to his feet. He strode forward as the ranch hand stepped into the barn.
“What is it, Baldy?”
“Miss Summers ain’t still in here with you, is she? I got to ask you about them calves in the south pasture.”
“Let’s go outside then.” Wade brushed past him, leading the way out of the barn. “We can talk on the way down there. I need to check myself and see how many strays are . . .”
Their voices faded as Wade led the old wrangler away from the barn. Caitlin rose slowly to her feet.
Her confrontation with Wade had gone further than she’d ever anticipated. In fact, the entire situation had gotten entirely out of hand. But, she thought shakily as she brushed hay from her riding habit and then tugged some more from her hair, I can’t afford to stop now. If anything, I have to press on even further. If Wade thinks he can intimidate me into giving up the fight, I’ll never get away from Cloud Ranch and back to Becky.
More than ever, she had to show him that she wouldn’t let up until he’d given her what she wanted.
She went back out into the sunshine, blinking a little in the light. The sky was a brilliant turquoise, huge and endless. Upon the horizon, blue-gray tips of mountains touched pristine white clouds.
The wranglers and Wade had all ridden out. Chickens squawked in a pen, and Dawg was barking at a squirrel scampering across the limbs of a tree, but no one else was around except Francesca, who was walking sedately toward the house, head bowed, from the direction of a group of aspens some fifty yards away.
Caitlin headed toward the house as well and as Francesca approached, she saw the woman’s face was wet with tears.
“Francesca, what’s wrong?”
The housekeeper glanced at her briefly, then lifted a lace-edged handkerchief and wiped at her damp eyes. “Nothing, senorita,” she said in a low tone that bordered on surly. “I was putting flowers on your father’s grave. That is all. I go there every week to do this.”
“Oh.” The revelation stunned her. “You must . . . have been very fond of him.”
Francesca nodded, pursing her lips. “He was a good man, senorita. Kind, so kind, with feelings that come deep from the heart. There are not many men like that. Mr. Wade—he is like that, too.”
She turned away and trudged up the ranch-house steps. Caitlin suddenly remembered that she hadn’t yet had breakfast, but she didn’t feel hungry. For some reason, she kept walking in the direction from which Francesca had come.
In the end, it wasn’t difficult to find the grave.
It was just beyond the
stand of aspens, in a pretty clearing where birds sang and the grass grew high and thick. Flowers curled around rocks and at the base of the nearest trees. There was a white headstone with Reese’s name carved upon it and the date of his death, and vivid pink and yellow wildflowers had been placed carefully just beneath the base.
Caitlin approached slowly. For some inexplicable reason, a lump rose in her throat as she stared at the lettering, at the solemn white headstone, at the brightness of the flowers. She closed her eyes and saw an image of the photograph she’d seen—of the broad-shouldered, weathered-looking older man smoking a cigar with the three Barclay boys.
Her father.
Her hands were trembling as she bent down and plucked a single wildflower from the grass near her feet. She hesitated, then began to kneel down and place the bloom alongside the others, but she couldn’t. She froze with her arm outstretched.
“Why didn’t you write to me, not even once?” she whispered. Anger and pain throbbed through her. “You didn’t bother with me until you were dying. And why then? Why did you want me here, in this place you never cared to share with me for eighteen years?”
The tears nearly broke from her then, bitter, stinging, angry tears, but she choked them back. She flung the flower aside into the waving grass, then ran all the way back to the house.
There were no answers, there would never be any answers.
And she vowed to herself as she bolted upstairs to the sanctuary of her room that she would never visit Reese’s grave again.
Chapter 9
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Wade had been just about to ride out toward Black Bear Point to start rounding up cattle for the spring branding when he saw Caitlin leading Star, the palomino mare, from the barn the next morning.
He couldn’t deny she made an exquisite picture in her full, dark blue riding skirt and frilled white shirt. With the sunshine pouring down the way it was he couldn’t help noticing the way that shirt outlined her full breasts, or the way the sun gilded that soft, daisy-gold hair of hers. Or the way it enhanced the vivid green sparks in her eyes as she led Star to the corral fence.