Ride With Me (A Quaking Heart Novel - Book One)

  Chapter 8

  Jessica tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen, rubbing a palm over her fluttering stomach. She slipped open the small drawer next to the sink, rummaged around for pen and paper—with half an ear listening to old house creaks—and jotted her upcoming whereabouts for Mabel. Resting the note against the bowl of fruit on the counter, she spun to the door.

  A wall of formidable cook met her. Jessica yelped and jumped back. "Mabel! You startled me. "

  The cook's arms barely reached across her stout chest. "And where're you off to, girlie?"

  "I left you a note." Jessica nodded her head toward the fruit bowl. She planted a shaky smile on her face.

  Mabel crossed to the note and raised her brows as she read. "And who're you goin' out there to see?"

  A sudden resentment struck Jessica. She narrowed her eyes at Mabel. Who did she think she was, her mother? "I was invited to go watch a round-up and that's exactly what I'm going to do." She waited for Mabel's expression to change, but it didn't. Jessica's arms dropped to her sides as her confidence slipped a notch. "It's all right, isn't it?"

  "I ain't your ma. Watch yourself."

  Mabel's comment confused her. Watch herself? Before Mabel could change her mind, Jessica hustled to the barn. Standing contentedly near a stall, saddled, with the reins wrapped loosely around a post, Jessica found the gray mare Johnnie had promised her. Delighted to be on her way, she mounted and trotted east.

  As she reined in at the corral, unsuspecting calves lingered near their grazing mothers. The calm before the storm? Johnnie and a couple of others were inside the corral arranging some sort of portable apparatus. Johnnie raised his head. He flashed her a dazzling smile and bounded over the fence. "Good morning, early bird."

  "Cock-a-doodle-doo." She chuckled and looked past him. "Can I help?"

  Admiration with a touch of amusement crossed his face. "You want to help?"

  "I'm not afraid of hard work, Johnnie. Yes. I want to help."

  "You're very different from Mabel's usual helpers. You know that don't you?" He laughed. "Okay, come on in here and I'll put you to work." He perused her from hat to boots. "Looks like you're dressed for it too, I see."

  His comment pleased her. She'd done her best to look the part with wranglers, sleeveless top tucked in, plain leather belt and boots—no frills. She'd tied her long hair in a low ponytail and had her straw cowboy hat pulled down on her forehead. Nothing girlie about her outfit today, though Johnnie's tender inspection made her feel wholly feminine.

  She walked through the gate Johnnie held open for her. "How does this whole round-up thing work?"

  He pointed. "See that portable squeeze we built? We drag the calves there, and vaccinate, de-horn, and castrate them."

  Jessica grimaced. "Wow, a lot for the little critters to endure all at once."

  "That's not all. That barrel—" He nodded toward the rusted fifty-five gallon drum. "—holds the branding irons. You can guess what for." He pushed his hat brim up an inch, and the sun glinted off sapphire eyes. "Have you ever been to a rodeo, Jess?"

  "Sure. Love 'em."

  "Well that's what we do here, except we don't let the calves go. They get the real deal here—the works."

  "What happens to them afterwards?"

  "The cows stop their bellowing and find their calf, comfort it."

  Fascinating. "How?"

  Johnnie smiled at her concern. "You know, lick them, be there for them."

  "It may be a grueling day for the cowboys, but I can see it'll be much worse for the calves. Poor things."

  Jessica trailed after Johnnie. An hour later, after Jessica's fingers burned from twisting screws and securing pipes together, the cowboys started spilling into the corral. Jessica watched, nodded to a few, and noticed a dust cloud coming up the path. Her heart quickened when she recognized who led the group. Just then, a small whirlwind of dust whipped at Clint's hat and shirt, and the gelding's tail. Seemingly unaffected, he tucked his head into the onslaught and galloped along, the elements no match for this hardy man. The gelding slowed to a trot, and the rider changed his rhythm to match. Even as his hips rocked, his broad shoulders barely moved—poetry in motion.

  He drew up. His distinct scowl broke her spell as he dismounted. "I don't think I've met our new cowhand." Clint's gaze never left hers as he strode to the corral fence.

  Jessica hustled over to where Clint stood, not wanting him to reprimand Johnnie. She gave him what she hoped was a confident smile.

  "I hope you don't think you'll be in the corral during the round-up."

  Jessica inspected his face for a moment and saw no sign of teasing. His stern comment irritated her. He was always so charming to everyone else. "Good morning to you, too."

  He gave one quick nod and cocked a brow.

  Her irritation raised a notch. She scowled at him.

  Clint slung his arms over the top rail. He clasped his hands together right in front of her nose, his eyes hard as granite. "What are you doing out here?"

  "Helping them set up. For fun."

  At first he looked dubious, searching her for the truth. A wry smile shifted his lips, and softened his features. "For fun."

  "Maiming poor, helpless calves is fun, right?"

  He broke into one of his hardy laughs. But, as quickly as it began it stopped. He tilted his head down and raised both brows. "Fun or not, you will be leaving the corral."

  Jessica's stomach seemed to ball into a fist. She was a capable woman. Had lived her entire life without any help from him—from any man. Maybe she hadn't planned on being in the corral when they started.

  But now . . .

  She jutted her chin and waited in silence, unwilling to move, surprised at her own stubbornness.

  "Jes-sie," he drawled. Leaning a little farther over the fence he gave her an I-call-the-shots stare. His gaze left her eyes and landed on her lips. Her heart tripped. But no. He was only noticing the determined curl of them.

  She had to consciously loosen her pucker before she said, "I could help, you know."

  He raised his eyes to hers again. "No. You won't be helping. You can watch."

  Her brows plowed into a deep furrow. She wanted to say something more but thought better of it. "As you wish."

  "Good girl."

  She blinked in disbelief.

  "Okay, wrong thing to say." The corners of his mouth twitched. And his eyes gave him away as well—twinkling in amusement. He wanted to laugh at her. And that changed everything. It took a lot to push her, but once pushed—

  She crossed her arms at her chest. "On second thought . . ."

  Gone was the smile. His face hardened. "You'll do as I say, or you'll go back to the ranch house," he said, a little too loudly.

  The exchange drew the attention of other cowboys. Johnnie's head whipped up. He started toward them. Clint held up a hand to Johnnie without taking his eyes off Jessica.

  Egotistical jerk. Jessica glanced over her shoulder at Johnnie halted in immediate obedience, but his fists were clenched and his mouth was set. Clint waited for her response.

  She clamped down on her back teeth; something she did when one of her brothers thought they could bully her. She worked at slackening her jaw enough to speak. "What is it, Clint? Are you thinking women are too delicate to help?" She winced at how angry her words sounded, when she'd just planned to calmly ask, 'Why don't you want me to help?'

  Clint backed up a step. He clasped the top of the fence with both hands. His knuckles turned white under the pressure, obviously furious. But why?

  He stepped forward again and leaned well over. The bill of his Stetson came within inches of her forehead. "Jessie." Though stern, his voice had dropped an entire octave and was hushed, like he intended the conversation to only be heard by the two of them. "I want you to leave the corral. Now."

  What was it with this man? As the foreman he had been used to ordering people around. But she wasn't one of his hired hands. She was Uncle Roy's niece for cr
ying out loud. She had clout! How could she back down? She looked over his rugged features, trying to determine what was behind his need to boss her around. The longer she refused to obey, the more his eyes flashed with some inexplicable emotion. Something inside her shifted, and realization hit even before he spoke.

  "Please," he ground out so quietly she barely heard him.

  Of course. He had to save face with his men. How would it look if he backed off and kowtowed to the boss's niece? She had brothers. She knew firsthand about men's egos. Her intention hadn't been to make him look bad.

  Now, she couldn't react fast enough. "Yes. Certainly."

  "Thank you, Jessie, for your cooperation." He looked relieved, yet a little shook up. She probably needed to leave the corral before he'd relax. He turned, took two steps, and then stopped. Over his shoulder he said, "I've invited someone out here. Veronica. Maybe you can explain to her how a round-up works, since you've been here for the set-up." He crammed his hat farther down on his head and continued his walk toward the other men.

  Her jaw dropped open as awareness dawned, with claws. If she'd looked down and seen her heart ripped from her chest, she wouldn't have been surprised. He had invited another woman out here. And he wanted her to entertain the hussy.

  She whipped around to where she had tied her horse. Escape! Ah, but she couldn't. And now the day that had promised to be her best would be added to her long list of worst.