In answer, the stallion tossed his head and reared, clawing at the air.
"Yeah, you're the king of the jungle, all right. Nobody's denying you that." Jesse took a step closer, keeping his hand extended. "But even the king of the jungle can be tamed," he muttered under his breath. "And, buddy, I'm the lion tamer, so you might as well lie down and admit defeat so we can both get out of this heat."
The stallion seemed to think that was funny because he lifted his head and let out a loud, piercing whinny that seemed to negate Jesse's boast before he dropped his head and charged straight at him.
Jesse made the fence in the nick of time, sticking a boot between the iron rails halfway up and projecting himself over the top one to land with a muffled "Umph!" on the other side.
"Nice landing."
Jesse opened one eye to see Gabe standing over him. With a groan, he closed it again and struggled to ascertain—without moving—if he'd broken anything.
"You okay?" Gabe asked, this time with a touch of concern in his voice.
"Yeah, I think so." Jesse pushed himself to his elbows and eyed the black devil on the other side of the fence. "No thanks to our friend Judas."
"He's a mean one, all right," Gabe agreed with a brisk jerk of his chin. "I told Mandy she oughta jist forget about breakin' him and turn him out with the mares and let him do what he was born to do, but she's bound and determined to make a saddle horse out of him yet."
Jesse sat up a little straighter. "You mean to tell me that Mandy's planning on riding this horse?"
Gabe shook his head as if he couldn't believe it either. "That's what she says."
Jesse pushed himself to his feet. He scraped his hat off the ground, gave it a good whack against the side of his leg, then rammed it on his head. "Well, we'll just see about that," he muttered angrily.
When he reached the back door he didn't bother to knock, but charged right into the kitchen and down the hall, leaving a trail of dust behind him and the angry echo of a slammed door. He didn't stop until he stood in front of her desk. Planting his hands on the oak surface, he pushed his face to within an inch of hers. "Why in the hell didn't you tell me that you planned on riding that black devil?"
Mandy reared back, putting as much distance between them as possible. "I suppose you're referring to Judas."
"And who the hell else do you think I'd be referring to? Damn it, Mandy!" he roared. "You don't have any business on that horse's back. He's crazy, a killer, and even if I succeed in breaking him to a saddle, I'll never be able to break his spirit, and you damn well know it."
"I didn't ask you to break his spirit," she replied, pushing to her feet. "I wouldn't want you to, even if you could."
Jesse rounded the desk. "So you admit that he's a killer," he said, pointing an accusing finger beneath her nose.
Mandy pushed his hand away. "I didn't admit to any such thing. I merely agreed that Judas is high-spirited."
"A killer," Jesse insisted. "And I'll be damned if I'll stand by and watch you crawl on his back."
"And what gives you the right to tell me what I can and can not do?"
"You're the mother of my son, that's what gives me the right. Jaime needs you. He needs his mother and you have no right to jeopardize your life and Jaime's happiness just to prove something to Lucas McCloud."
Mandy's head snapped up at the mention of her father, the gold in her green eyes striking fire. "Lucas has nothing to do with this."
"Oh, doesn't he?" Jesse mocked. "Aren't you trying to prove to your father's ghost and everyone who works for you that you are as strong, as stubborn as Lucas was by riding the son of the horse that he broke and rode himself?"
Mandy felt heat burn her cheeks as the truth behind Jesse's accusation hit a little too close to home. "That's ridiculous," she muttered as she brushed past him.
Jesse caught her arm and swung her back around to face him. "Is it?"
Mandy didn't attempt to break free but forced herself to maintain an air of coolness when she replied. "Careful, Jesse. You might make me think you really care what happens to me."
All the anger, all the frustration suppressed for years had Jesse hauling her up against his chest. The slam of her body against his dislodged his hat and it fell to the hardwood floor and bounced against his leg, but Jesse merely kicked it aside.
The fear in her eyes, the stiffness of her body only served to incense him more. With a feral growl, he crushed his mouth over hers, punishing her with his lips while he banded his arms around her, holding her in place. He felt the claw of her fingernails on his back, but he ignored her struggles for freedom, determined to make her pay for every sin she'd ever committed against him, both known and unknown.
Within seconds he realized his mistake. Instead of savoring the revenge he so justly deserved, he found himself focusing instead on the press of her breasts against his chest, the fullness of the lips beneath his, the taste that he thought he'd forgotten.
Slowly he softened the kiss, sweeping his tongue across the bow of her lips, teasing the corners of her mouth, until at last she surrendered, parting her lips for him on a soft moan. He pressed her closer still, probing the velvet softness of her mouth. He found her tongue and mated it with his, drawing hers with an aching slowness into his mouth.
Mandy was sure she would die from the heat that ravaged her body. She didn't want this, she told herself even as she lifted her hands, threaded her fingers through his hair and drew his face closer. She didn't want to feel this aching need for Jesse again. But it was there, curling like a fist low in her belly and spreading like molten honey to her limbs, making her weak and helpless in his arms.
As if he sensed her need, he slipped his hands from her back to curve over her buttocks and draw her hard against his groin. A moan started low in his throat and rose to vibrate against her lips.
Jesse. Oh, Jesse, she silently cried. I've missed this, you, so much.
Wanting to share with him her feelings if only by touch, she dragged her hands to his face, molding the sharp planes of his cheekbones, tracing the strong line of his jaw and pressing her thumb to the cleft in his chin. With a sigh drawn from the familiarity of each of those features, she let her hands drop to his chest. Heat, comfort, strength. She found each in the padded muscles beneath her palms, in the pounding of his heart, which echoed that of her own.
But then, as suddenly as he'd taken her, he was gone, and her palms rested against nothing but air. Her breathing ragged, Mandy opened her eyes to find him standing with his back to her. His head was dipped low on his chest, his hands were braced at his hips while he pulled in a long, shuddering breath.
Feeling the sting of his rejection, she whispered brokenly, "Don't ever do that again."
Jesse bent to scoop his hat from the floor without looking at her. "Don't worry," he said as he strode for the office door. "I don't plan to."
* * *
Four
« ^ »
"Hey! Watch out!"
Before the warning even registered through the fog of anger blinding him, Jesse had plowed into the woman who'd shouted it. With a grunt of surprise as their bodies connected, he instinctively grabbed for her, catching her at the waist and twisting his body to take the brunt of the fall as they both toppled to the ground. A split second after his back hit the hard-packed dirt, a black bag slammed into the side of his head.
"Get your hands off me!"
Jesse immediately dropped his hands from the woman's waist and managed to focus on two spots of brown among the stars that danced before his eyes.
"Sam?" he asked uncertainly as he gazed up into the face of Mandy's younger sister.
The woman in question shoved hard against his chest, already pushing to her feet, her cheeks a flaming red. "Well, at least you're not totally blind," she muttered while she dusted indignantly at the legs of her jeans. "You at least recognized me."
Jesse pushed himself to his elbows and winced, drawing himself to a sitting position to inspect a burni
ng elbow. "Sorry," he muttered as he dabbed at a spot of blood already staining his shirt's blue fabric. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."
"You're telling me?" With a huff of impatience, Sam stooped to reclaim her bag. "I would've guessed that right off." As she straightened, she caught a glimpse of Jesse's sluggish movements. "Are you hurt?" she asked, narrowing a wary eye at him.
"Just a little scratch," he answered though he kept the arm tucked to his middle as he used his other hand to push himself to a standing position.
Sam shifted the bag and reached for his wrist. Angling his arm for a better look, she plucked a corner of the torn fabric and frowned at the cut beneath. "Come on inside the barn and I'll clean it up for you."
The offer was sincere enough, even if it was grudgingly offered, but Jesse was anxious to get off the Double-Cross and put as much distance as possible between himself and Mandy. "That's not necessary. I can—"
"Oh, don't be such a baby," she snapped impatiently and spun away, leaving him no choice but to follow.
Once inside the lab room where all the ranch's veterinary supplies were stored, Sam tossed her bag on the counter and rolled up her sleeves. "You might want to slip that arm out of your sleeve," she suggested without meeting his gaze.
While Jesse shucked off his shirt, Sam opened the bag. After twisting on the tap at the sink, she motioned Jesse to join her. "Stick your arm under here and let's get you cleaned up so I can get a better look."
Reluctantly, Jesse obeyed and Sam gently dabbed at the wound. "Not too deep," she muttered to herself as she prodded the torn flesh. "A little antibiotic ointment and a butterfly bandage ought to do."
"Is that a medical opinion, or just a guess?"
"A medical opinion. I'm a vet," she added for clarification as she laid out the items she'd need. "And in case you're worried, humans aren't all that different from animals in a lot of respects."
Resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be leaving the Double-Cross for a few minutes more, Jesse leaned back against the counter. "A vet, huh?" The choice of career seemed perfect for the tomboy Jesse remembered. He turned his arm, offering her easier access as she moved in front of him.
"Yeah. It suits me." She squirted a generous supply of ointment on her finger, then hesitated, as if unable or unwilling to touch him.
"I won't bite," he couldn't help teasing.
Sam snapped her gaze up to meet his, a frown gathering between her brows. But she obviously decided not to rise to the bait, choosing instead to ask a question of her own. "What were you in a such an all-fired hurry for, anyway?"
Jesse frowned too at the reminder of the intimacy he'd just shared with Mandy. "Just anxious to get home," he replied vaguely.
Sam paused in her ministrations to glance up at him. Just as quickly, she averted her gaze. "Seen Jaime around?"
"No. He's spending the day with some friend of his."
Sam nodded knowingly. "That would be Davie. The two are joined at the hip. They usually spend every Friday together."
That Sam was more familiar with his son's activities than he was, hurt Jesse in a way he hadn't expected. "I suppose you know the boy fairly well?"
Sam glanced up again, but this time held his gaze. "If you're asking me if I know he's your son, yes, I do, and I also know why you're here."
"And how do you feel about that? About me wanting to claim my son?"
Sam dropped her gaze, turning her attention back to her work. She plucked a bandage from her bag, and peeled off the protective covering. "What I feel isn't important."
"But you do have an opinion," Jesse insisted.
Sam drew the two sections of skin together and pressed the bandage into place, her touch gentle in spite of the frown that still creased her forehead. When she finished, she stepped back quickly, wiping her hands on the seat of her jeans as if touching him repelled her. "I won't see either one of them hurt," she warned and turned away. "Not Jaime and not Mandy."
"And you think that is my intention? To hurt them?"
"Sometimes we hurt people whether we intend to or not," she replied.
Jesse couldn't help wondering if she was speaking from personal experience. Mandy wasn't the only one of his daughters that Lucas had chosen to bully. Mandy had shared with Jesse stories of her father's dominance over her sisters, as well as herself. But something in Sam's voice made him wonder if maybe she was referring to someone other than Lucas. He shook off the distracting thought. Sam was entitled to her secrets. "Did Lucas make it hard on Mandy when he found out she was pregnant?"
Though Jesse could see the tension tighten on Sam's back, she merely lifted a shoulder in a shrug as she methodically placed her supplies back into the bag. "Let's just say that the idea of having a grandson with Barrister blood running in his veins didn't exactly please him."
"Did the boy suffer as a result?"
"No," she replied without hesitation. "Jaime was just a baby when Daddy died and too young to be affected by Lucas's resentment of him."
"What about Mandy?"
Sam looked up at him, her eyes guarded, protecting any secrets that might be hidden behind them. "You'll have to ask Mandy that question. It isn't my place to say."
You'll have to ask Mandy that question. It isn't my place to say.
Throughout the drive back to the Circle Bar, Jesse wondered at Sam's odd comment. Obviously, Lucas McCloud had been hard on Mandy, or Sam would have denied his question outright. And though he kept telling himself it shouldn't matter to him one way or the other, he couldn't ease the itch of guilt that sprang to life between his shoulder blades for the part he'd played in Mandy's suffering.
And that guilt only reminded him of his last encounter with Mandy less than an hour before.
He drew a shaking hand across his mouth, remembering the taste of her, mindful of the memories that kiss had awakened, of how far he would've liked to take that kiss. As the last thought rose, he pressed the accelerator a little closer to the floor, anxious to escape the temptation.
Trouble, he warned himself, scowling at the road ahead. That's what Mandy meant for him. Nothing but trouble. Not only had she chosen her father over him, but she'd kept his son a secret from him … and Jesse would never forgive her for that.
But if he thought he'd outrun all his problems by simply leaving the Double-Cross, Jesse was badly mistaken. As he pulled his truck up by the barn on the Circle Bar, he saw Margo and Pete standing almost nose-to-nose in the barn's shadow. From the defensive stance each had assumed, Jesse figured that they weren't discussing anything as innocuous as the weather.
On a sigh, he shoved open the door of his truck and the piercing shrill of Margo's voice hit him with full force.
"Is there a problem here?" he asked, knowing it was up to him to act as referee if one was needed.
Margo whirled, her eyes blazing. "I want this man fired immediately!"
Jesse gave Pete a cursory glance, noting the flush of anger on the old man's face, before turning his gaze fully on Margo. "And may I ask why?"
"He refuses to follow my orders! I told him two weeks ago to sell those cows in the west pasture and have only just discovered that he blatantly ignored my instructions. He's nothing but a stubborn old fool who insists on doing things his way."
Jesse turned to look at Pete. "What do you have to say about all this?"
The hiss of breath behind Jesse told him that he had insulted Margo by asking for Pete's take on the situation instead of firing him on the spot.
Pete shot Margo one last thunderous look before turning his attention to Jesse. "She's talkin' about those heifers I showed you last week when we was out ridin'. Wade and me handpicked those heifers to replenish the herd and I'm not about to sell 'em when we need 'em for breedin' purposes. I'd jist have to go out and buy some new ones to replace 'em and that's jist plain foolishness, if you ask me."
"And who asked you?" Margo interjected, her voice rising as quickly as the color on her face.
"I
did," Jesse replied, turning to face her. "And since I'm the one in charge here, Margo, not you, I have to agree with Pete's decision. The heifers stay."
The blood from Margo's face slowly drained away, leaving her cheeks pale, her lips trembling with silent rage at what Jesse was sure she considered his traitorous decision. Without another word to either of the men, she whirled and stalked back to the house.
Jesse and Pete stood side by side and watched her go.
"I'm sorry you got dragged in on this one," Pete mumbled in apology. "She'll make you pay for takin' my side for sure."
Jesse turned to look at Pete in puzzlement. "How so?"
Pete dragged off his hat and mopped his brow with his shirtsleeve. "I don't know. But she'll figger out a way. She always does."
Jesse clamped a hand on his old friend's shoulder. "Don't you worry your old bald head about Margo," he teased, trying to make light of what he was sure was an accurate assumption on Pete's part. "I can handle any trouble she tries to throw my way."
Pete glanced up, the look in his eyes as bleak as the clouds that were beginning to gather overhead. He settled his hat back on his head with a sigh. "I hope so, son. I sure hope so."
Jesse considered avoiding the Double-Cross altogether and focusing instead on the problems building on the Circle Bar, but by Monday morning the thought of Jaime and the progress he'd made in developing a relationship with his son had him shoving the tempting thought aside. The Circle Bar meant nothing to him, but his son, he was slowly beginning to realize, meant everything.
When he arrived at the Double-Cross, he found Jaime sitting on the corral fence, waiting for him. The fact that he was pleased Jesse enormously.
"Hey, Jesse!" Jaime called as he jumped down from the fence and loped toward him.
"Hey, yourself," Jesse replied as he leaned over to draw a coiled rope from the bed of his truck. "What are you up to?" he asked as he hooked the lasso over his shoulder.
"Oh, 'bout five-one," Jaime shot back, grinning.
Jesse grabbed him in a headlock and rubbed his knuckles over the boy's hair. "You've got a smart mouth on you, you know it?"
THE RANCHER'S SPITTIN' IMAGE Page 6