"And your hair," Gloria sighed as she flipped at her braid. "A man of Cole’s position would never accept a woman who had such little concern for her personal appearance."
Meagan raised her chin. She rather liked her hair.
"Cole wants a woman of beauty and grace, a woman to cook his meals and be there for him after a long days work. He's not interested in a cowgirl who wants to rope cattle and work the land. That’s his job."
Gloria's last statement hit home.
"Oh dear,” Gloria pressed a perfectly manicured hand to her lips, “I hope I haven't hurt your feelings."
Meagan forced a smile. "No. Of course not." Meagan reached out to collect Gloria's glass, but withdrew her hand and curled her fingers to hide her nails from the woman's critical gaze. "Let's get you fitted."
The next few hours passed without mishap. Anne had appeared as if on cue, and with a little finagling Meagan had persuaded her to join in. Meagan helped measure, cut, and pin the fine silk that would soon be Gloria's gown without a single worry over the fact that she knew not a whit about what she was doing. Whenever Anne spoke, Meagan smiled and nodded her agreement. It was working great.
"All done," Anne exclaimed.
"Yes, all done," Meagan repeated, relieved to hear they'd finished.
"Won't you need me for a final fitting?" Gloria wondered. She cast a worried glance Meagan's way.
"I don't think that will be necessary," Meagan interjected before Anne had a chance. She didn't want to go through this again.
"But,"
Meagan stood. "I'm sure you're exhausted."
"I am rather tired, but."
"I'll see you out." Meagan opened the door and stepped aside so Gloria could pass.
"You're sure you'll have the dress ready in time?"
"Of course I will. Don't worry about a thing." Meagan closed the door in Gloria's face and returned to the parlor to find Anne still there. Exhausted, Meagan sank onto the cushioned seat of a large, straight backed chair. "Thanks for your help, Anne."
"Help?" Anne placed her hands on her hips. "Meagan, I don't believe you know a single thing about sewing."
Meagan blanched. "I know a little."
"How much?"
"Not that much."
"How much?"
Meagan frowned. "Less than I knew about cooking."
Anne shook with laughter. "Meagan, how do you manage to get yourself into these messes?"
"I don't know." Meagan leaned her head against the back of the chair. "I think I might act a bit impulsively at times."
Anne shook with laughter. "I think that's an understatement, Meagan." Anne held the material up. "What do you plan to do with this fine, expensive silk?"
Meagan contemplated that question. She'd been so relieved to get through the fitting that she hadn't considered her next step. It would be a terrible shame to ruin such fine silk, not to mention what it would do to her pride. "Could you please help me, Anne? I know you're busy, but I don't have a clue how to begin."
"I realize that."
"I couldn't back out now. What would Gloria think of me?"
Anne smiled. "It would be a shame. I'm sure Cole would be disappointed. His heart must be set on seeing Gloria in such a fine gown."
Meagan winced. Gloria would be irresistible in that dress. In fact, she was already irresistible. In that dress she would be one step above irresistible.
"I'll help you, Meagan," Anne conceded with a sigh.
Meagan forgot all the reasons why she'd just convinced herself Gloria didn't need a new dress, and smiled. "You're wonderful, Anne. We'll have so much fun."
"You'll have all the fun, Meagan. I'll just show you how."
Meagan nodded her acceptance of the challenge. She'd delivered a calf this morning and worked through what could have been a disastrous situation this afternoon. It was a good day. "Let's get started right away."
"You find a comfortable place to sit,” Anne ordered, “while I fetch my sewing box."
Meagan did just as Anne asked. Three hours later, she decided this wasn't such a fine day, after all. Her back ached from sitting so long with her head bent, her eyes blurred each time she blinked and she was feeling the beginnings of a headache. Worst of all, Anne insisted she sew such disgustingly small stitches that she was certain it would take her an entire lifetime to complete this one dress.
"Ouch." Meagan brought her thumb to her mouth and sucked on the puncture wound. It had to be the sixth one she'd gotten in that same thumb in the last fifteen minutes. She swore to herself that, once done with this dress, she'd never lift another needle as long as she lived.
Anne had been true to her word. She'd supervised the cutting of the pattern, explained how to piece it together, and scolded her more than once for the large gaps she left as she stitched. Anne hadn't done one bit of stitching. Meagan flashed her friend a resentful glare as she once again poked her thumb.
Her mind wandered. Meagan pictured herself wearing this fine gown. A gown made to entice a man. Cole would be so enamored by her beauty that he'd draw her into his arms and lead her onto the dance floor. His eyes would seek no other, his voice would whisper sweet words intended only for her.
Meagan hummed as she worked. Her humor was restored, at least for the moment. She continued sewing, and dreaming. It didn't occur to her that she had no idea how to dance. After all, she'd never allowed her inexperience to stop her from trying something yet.
"Darn," she muttered as she poked herself yet again. She spent the remainder of the day stitching, dreaming and poking holes in her flesh. If only it were her and not Gloria who would reap the benefits of her labor.
CHAPTER TEN
Meagan watched in fascination as hard working, capable men stumbled over tables and ran into each other. Roundup had ended, and the annual celebration was in full force. It was an event that bested all others, and was talked about for months afterward. Everyone was having a wonderful time.
"Everyone," Meagan muttered to herself, "but me." She wanted to disappear from sight.
A competition was about to begin. Each cook from the six separate sections would compete to prepare the best son-of-a-bitch stew in Colorado. A favorite of the cowboy's on the trail, the stew consisted of calf-brains, tongue, liver, heart and kidneys mixed with a variety of vegetables, seasonings and sweetbreads. Judges were elected to sample each pot and choose the best. It was a high honor to win.
Meagan wrinkled her nose in disgust as the aroma of the stew wafted through the air. The odor was vile enough to make her gag. She'd been teased mercilessly by the cowboy's, but to this very second had honored her resolve never to taste it. Even now her stomach roiled as she realized she was about to sample the stew for the first time.
Cole had volunteered both himself and her to judge the contest. Meagan had been ready to retaliate in anger until she'd seen the look on his face. It was obvious he had no idea she hated the concoction. She'd done her darndest to back out, but the cowboy's wouldn't hear of it. She'd been forced into a corner and was left with no choice but to taste it, not once, but six terrible times.
Meagan made her way through the crowd to the judging area. She was not surprised to find herself the last to arrive. Cole grinned as she approached.
"Cheer up."
Meagan ignored him and approached the first of six cooks. She'd been elected as judge number one, which meant she went first. Meagan closed her eyes, wrinkled her nose and opened her mouth. Laughter rang dully in her ears as nausea threatened to rid her of her breakfast. She waited, but no food was deposited into her mouth. Meagan opened one eye and focused on the cook. He stared moodily back.
"I aint gonna to feed you like no baby, Meagan."
Meagan flushed deep red as the laughter around her increased. She grabbed the spoon and spilled most its contents on the ground.
"Fill it up agin'. It's the only way to get a good taste."
Meagan decided she didn't like this cook. She dipped the spoon, large enough to
feed a cow, back into the stew. She brought the spoon to within inches of her lips when the rank odor, so close to her nose, gagged her. She lowered the spoon, clamped her mouth shut and pursed her lips together in a stubborn refusal to continue.
Pete appeared beside her. "Come on, Meagan, we haven't got all day."
Turning vicious eyes on the man, Meagan snapped, "you have so got all day." She took a deep breath and swallowed. "I'm about ready."
Meagan plugged her nose.
"No fair." The cook stood up, hands on his hips. "If she plugs her nose, she can't taste it right."
"That's true," another cowboy yelled out.
"Unplug your nose, Meagan," Cole ordered.
"Hurry, up Meagan," Pete urged.
In absolute frustration, Meagan threw the spoon back into the pot and glared at the group of men. Cole picked up the spoon, filled it and offered it to her. Meagan jerked it from his hand, spilling more stew on the ground.
"If she keeps this up," the cook complained, "there won't be any left for everyone else to try."
"Fine." Meagan yelled. "I'll try it." She raised the spoon to her mouth, fought back a gag and placed the food inside. She allowed it to sit in her mouth, unchewed.
"You have to chew, and swallow, Meagan," Cole teased her.
Meagan was tempted to spit the entire mouth full in his face. Only the numerous witnesses saved him from the assault. She began a slow, exaggerated chewing motion as the stew began to grow in her mouth. "Water," she pleaded.
"No water until she swallows," the cook protested. "Takes away from the taste."
Meagan placed her hand over her mouth. She had to get this stuff out of her mouth. Cole grasped her wrist and lowered her arm.
"Taste it, Meagan. Not with your mind, but with your mouth."
"What do you think I'm doing?" Meagan objected, her words barely discernible with the full mouth of food. It was obvious she was tasting it with her mouth. After all, that happened to be where the stew was sitting.
"There's a reason we all like this stew, you know."
Meagan started to protest.
Cole pressed a finger against her lips. "Think like a judge, Meagan."
Sure, Meagan thought as she began chewing again, use guilt. She forced her senses to concentrate on the flavor and texture of the stew. This wasn't so bad. She began chewing faster.
"That's my girl." Cole turned and took his bite, savoring the seasonings with obvious delight.
Meagan swallowed, then rinsed her mouth with water to rid her taste buds of the first sample, and moved on to the second pot. She dipped the spoon in the stew and brought it to her mouth. This one was saltier, with a tang she couldn't define. Next she tried one that burned her throat as she swallowed.
In no time she'd tasted them all. She voted on the first pot. It won. Meagan grinned from ear to ear as she approached Cole. "Looks like I know my son-of-a-bitch stew, after all."
Cole draped his arm across her shoulders. "I never doubted it for a minute."
Meagan laughed. "I did."
"Hey, Cole,"
Cole turned, but kept his arm around her. "Yea?"
"You'd better get ready for the calving competition. It's in thirty minutes."
"Thanks. I'll do that." He removed his arm, straightened and jutted his chest out. "I'd better go. I have a contest to win."
Amusement threatened to spill from Meagan as she watched Cole strut away, thumbs in the waist of his Levi's, head high. His cockiness helped make her decision easy. She'd show him.
Meagan watched from the shadow of the stables as Cole roped his calf. His movements were smooth, his horse moved in rhythm with him, backing to take up the slack of the rope with perfect timing. Cheers followed. He bowed to his fans. Meagan's determination rose a notch. It was her turn.
"Let's show him, Angel," Meagan whispered, and Angel perked her ears forward, neighing her agreement. Meagan tossed her jean clad leg over the back of her rawhide saddle, tucked her hair inside the oversized brown Stetson she'd borrowed from Pete and guided Angel into the corral.
Deftly gathering the main line of the lariat, up to the loop, in her throwing hand, she smoothed the remaining coils before gripping them loosely in her left hand, ready to let out extra rope as needed. Holding Angel's reins, also in her left hand, she urged her mare into position. She concentrated only on the calf as it was released into the corral.
Angel responded to Meagan's slightest command, and in seconds she was in position, swinging the lasso high through the air. There was only one way to win this. It was going to be all or nothing. A deep line of concentration marred her forehead as she approached the calf, letting loose of the rope, allowing it to slide easily through her fingers. It was good, she thought, as the rope landed around the calves neck. With a quick flip of her wrist the rope formed a twisted loop, capturing the calves two front feet. Angel reared back without prompting, and Meagan dismounted and tightened the rope on the downed calf. She'd completed a figure eight, a difficult maneuver she was certain would win over Cole's.
She led Angel from the corral and spotted Cole several feet away. Her eyes challenged him to refute her skill, or Angel's. He'd made a bargain with her, and she intended he keep it. "Anything I want," she teased as she reminded him of their previous bargain.
"I was ready to scold you for such inappropriate attire," Cole admitted with a grin, "but after that show, I guess I can't. You were terrific."
"Angel, too?"
Cole nodded his head with easy amusement. "Angel, too."
"I'm thinking of what I want," she taunted.
"A good cutting horse is hard to find," Cole reminded her.
"Angel will show you." Meagan knew Cole's eyes followed her every move. "I'll show you, too," she whispered as she grabbed a currycomb and began to groom Angel.
She was first this time. Only the most intelligent of horses could be used as cutting horses. Angel was bridle wise, and Meagan need only place the reins on the side of her neck, and she'd turn that direction. The less guidance she gave Angel, the better their score.
"Okay, Angel, this one's yours." Meagan gave Angel the signal to start by pressing her heels against her side and Angel responded, cantering to the small herd. Angel located two calves and separated them from their mothers. Two nervous cows protested the removal of their babes, but Angel held steady. She led the calves, unharmed, to a separate corral.
"Good, girl," Meagan praised. Cheers went up around her. "You were terrific, Angel."
"It seems I may have underestimated both you, and Angel."
Meagan jumped. Angel nipped at Cole. "Angel, no," Meagan scolded with an apologetic glance Cole's way.
Cole frowned. "She may be a smart horse, but she isn't very friendly."
"She just doesn't like you." Meagan defended her beloved mare.
Cole's left eyebrow arched. "Like horse, like owner?"
Meagan tugged on the reins as Angel once again attempted to take a bite out of Cole. "I should have let her do it," Meagan threatened.
"I guess I deserve it," Cole admitted. "Looks like I owe you one wish."
Triumphant eyes met his. "You do."
"What does my lady wish of me?"
"I want an apology."
Cole shook his head, an easy grin playing on his face. "I had hoped you'd be a bit more adventurous than that."
"A public apology," Meagan clarified. She stared down her nose at him.
Cole shuffled his feet against the ground. "What do you mean by public?"
"This evening, in the cookhouse. I want you to announce to the entire crew that you were wrong. That a woman beat you fair and square. A woman you claimed too young to even train a horse."
Cole opened his mouth to protest. Meagan cocked her head his way. "Anything I want. Remember?"
He spun on his heels and strode off without another word.
Meagan laughed as she, too, left to prepare for supper. She didn't bother to change, but splashed water over her face and tu
gged a comb through her hair. She tied it back with a navy ribbon and headed for the cookhouse. Meagan spotted Cole several tables away. She sat where she could watch his face, and his reactions, when he apologized.
A meal of steak, beans and cornbread muffins was served. Meagan was half through her meal when Cole's voice echoed above the drone of voices.
"Can I have your attention, please."
Meagan watched as Cole stood.
All eyes turned his way as the room quieted. "I have an announcement to make." He stood on the table and cleared his throat. "It seems I have misjudged one of our cowboy's today. I believed no man only eighteen years of age could acquire true roping and horse skills. Skills to compete with the best. I was right."
Meagan's eyes shot up.
"However, much to my surprise, a woman did just that. I figured she had more gurgle n' guts, and I'm happy to admit I was wrong. Meagan Daniels is a fine horsewoman with one of the best horses on the ranch."
Hoots and hollers of approval followed his announcement, and Meagan smiled. Cole winked at her and tipped his hat her way.
"Come up here, Meagan, and say a word or two."
Panic shot through Meagan. She shook her head.
"Come on, Meagan. I did my part. Come up here and acknowledge it."
Uncomfortable at being the center of attention, Megan wished she could disappear. She felt self-conscious for the first time in her jeans and striped, collarless shirt. She focused straight ahead and did her best not to think of the sixty pairs of eyes that were focused on her.
"Come all the way up, Meagan." Cole held his hand out for her.
Meagan kept her eyes fixed on Cole as she slipped her hand into his. She allowed him to pull her up to stand beside him on the table top. Loud cheers echoed through the room.
"You did good, Meagan."
Cole lowered his head, and before she could stop him he kissed her full on the lips. Cheers turned to roars, and Meagan flushed miserably. She knew Cole was reminding her, for all her skills and men's clothes, that she was still a woman.
He clasped his hand around hers and raised it above her head in a sign of victory. Meagan began to wonder if it was her victory, or Cole's. She'd gotten the apology, but he'd made a public claim as well. He'd claimed her.
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