Counterfeit Cowgirl (Love and Laughter) (13 page)

But he wasn’t. “Nope. So which would you like to do?”

She blinked. “Which is easier?”

“The headin’.”

“Then that’s what I want to do.”

“Good idea. Okay.” Retrieving his rope from the ground, he rose and began twirling his loop. It grew larger with no visible exertion on his part. “Now, one of the first things to understand is, you don’t rope a steer from the front. Unless the steer is brain-dead, he ain’t gonna just stand there and wait for you to come get him. So you’ll be approaching him from behind like this.”

Twirling his loop over his head now, he took a few strides toward the dummy, and then, with practiced ease, he let the loop fly. It soared as easy and sure as a sparrow in flight and fell with fluid grace over the dummy’s wide horns.

“You see?” He turned back toward her. “Nothing to it”

“Right.”

“Okay. You try it,” he said, and handed her the rope.

She took it gingerly.

“It ain’t going to bite you.”

“I know,” she said, trying to figure out what to do with thirty feet of stiff nylon that had a bad attitude and a mind of its own.

“Here.” He stepped up behind her, settled his left hand on her left and his right on her right. “You gotta hold it just so. Then when it feels right just swing it a little.”

He guided her hands, twirling the loop gently beside them.

“Loosen up. Take the rhythm of the rope,” he said, moving slightly closer behind her. “Yeah, that…” He cleared his throat. He was standing close enough for her to feel the muscles flex in his chest, but she was concentrating hard on the task at hand. “That feels good. And it looks good, too. Don’t that look good, Ty?”

Hannah jumped and spun about, dropping the rope. Ty stood not twenty feet away, glaring at her. Nate chuckled, and though Hannah called herself a thousand kinds of fool, she felt herself blush. Turning, Ty strode off toward the barn.

“He’s always been the jealous type. Okay, let’s try that again,” Nate said, handing her the rope. “Swing it by your side a little.”

She did so, but she was distracted now and the loop kept slipping away, while the remainder of the rope had a tendency to snake off in sloppy folds down her left leg.

“That’s good. That’s not bad,” Nate lied. “Now bring it up above your head.”

She did. It hit her left ear and settled over her shoulders at a stubborn angle.

“Okay, well…” Nate said, rocking back on one heel and sheepishly scratching his nose. “I think you might want to cancel any late-night plans you got going for about the next, uh…three weeks or so.”

L
ATE NIGHT PLANS
! Hannah flopped into bed like a beached fish, then wished she hadn’t because the ripple effect of the mattress made her arms bounce, and her arms shouldn’t be bouncing. Her arms shouldn’t be moving at all. She wasn’t even sure they should still be attached to her body.

Turning her head, she groaned into the coverlet.

“Hey, Hannah.” The door creaked open behind her. “You looked pretty good out there,” Ty said. The door closed.

Hannah squeezed her eyes shut and wished for death. Either his or hers—she couldn’t decide which, but in a moment the door opened again and he was still breathing.

“Tomorrow, though,” Ty said, “you might want to try roping the dummy instead of your shoulders.”

B
Y 6:30 THE NEXT MORNING
Hannah’s skin was lobster red from the beating of the hot shower. By seven she could almost move her arms. By nine she had fed the horses, cleaned the stalls and dragged the roping dummy inside the barn.

She wasn’t about to give up, but she’d be hanged by her thumbs until she was dead before she would entertain Tyrel Fox with her roping antics again.

By ten o’clock she thought she might die. By noon, she hoped she would.

It took every ounce of her energy to keep from falling face first into her potatoes again.

“Tired?” Ty asked, watching her over his coffee cup.

“No!” She straightened with a start.

He grinned like a devil, like a satyr, like a lover. “Good. ‘Cuz I need you to go to town for me. We got some calves with scours. You’ll have to pick up some Baytril from Doc Haberman.”

“No problem.”

He snorted, then rose to his feet. “That’s nice to hear ‘cuz I’m all burned out, and I’m going to need you to take a couple of shifts during the night.”

“All right.”

“All right,” he said, and pivoting on his heel, left the house.

Nate chuckled and helped himself to another helping of scalloped potatoes. “Geez, I love seeing, him like this.”

Hannah knew she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t help herself. “Like what?”

Nate turned to her and grinned. “All tied up in knots,” he said, and dug into his third serving.

S
HE
WAS THE ONE
all tied up in knots, Hannah thought.
Literally.
Several days had passed, but still the muscles in her
shoulders were knotted like a bowline. Her back ached as if someone had been flogging her with a frayed rope. And her arms…Well, her arms weren’t even worth thinking about.

And she stunk!

Ben-Gay. If someone had told her four months ago that Allissa Clifton Vandegard would someday be roping a plastic steer and smearing her body with Ben-Gay, she would have laughed in his face. But now she was too sore to laugh. And Ben-Gay had been the only relief she could find in the drugstore in Valley Green.

Groaning out loud, she slipped out of bed.

According to the clock beside her bed it was one o’clock in the morning—time for her to check the cattle.

Five minutes later she was dressed and heading out the door.

From his bedroom window, Tyrel watched her make her way across the yard toward the pastures.

She was a big girl, he reminded himself—all grown-up. Hell, she was meaner than any animal out there, and could damn well take care of herself.

Still…He paced again. What if something happened to her? Striding back to the window, he stared out into the night. Half-frozen raindrops were pinging against the windowpane. He should have gone out himself.

The hell he should have! He was paying her and paying her well! She could damn well do her part.

Staring through the darkness, he watched her climb through the fence, watched her bend so that her fanny and her endless legs were all he could see.

He was out the door in thirty-two seconds. But there he stopped. What was he going to tell her? That he was worried about her? That he couldn’t sleep knowing she was out there alone? Hell, why didn’t he just tell her he was in love with her, couldn’t breathe when she was near him, couldn’t think when she was in the same…universe?

A bull bellowed, and the sound gave Ty an idea. Stepping back inside, he unhooked a cane from the wall and stashed it
beneath his arm. If Hannah saw him slinking around after her, and he hoped she wouldn’t, he’d say he’d thought Houdini had gotten out again, and he’d come armed to chase him back in.

In a few moments, Ty could see Hannah, barely illuminated by the barnyard light as she moved between the clusters of cattle ahead of him. He stood on the lee side of a huge, round bale, sheltered both from the rain and her view.

Geez, he was an idiot, he thought. Hooking the cane on his arm, he shoved his bare hands into the pockets of his jacket and gave her time to finish her tour of the pasture.

This kind of cold was worse than the dead of winter. He pulled up his collar and called himself ten kinds of a fool. He could be fast asleep in his nice warm bed about now. Shaking his head at his own lunacy, he turned toward the house.

Then her shriek brought him up cold.

T
Y STREAKED DOWN THE HILL
. “Hannah!” he yelled.

He found her on the ground, her pale face turned up. Not ten yards away stood a black cow with steam billowing from its nostrils.

“Hannah! Stay down.”

But she was already rising to her feet, and the cow, incensed, dove at her again.

There was nothing Ty could do but fling himself between them and swing the cane with all his might. It smacked across the cow’s tender nose and splintered in two.

Bellowing in surprise, the Angus skittered to a halt, shook her head once, then turned tail and ran.

Ty rushed to Hannah, breathing her name as he bent down beside her. “Are you all right?”

“Cranky II?” she asked, her voice barely audible over her hiss of pain.

“What?”

“That must have been your token mean cow,” she said, trying to rise.

“Stay there,” he ordered, pressing her back down.

She did so with a groan.

“Where do you hurt?” His heart was slowing a little, and he could almost breathe again.

She winced. “You don’t want to know where I hurt.”

“Where did she hit you?”

Hannah cleared her throat. “I’m not sure. In the chest, I think.”

“She’s hamburger,” he growled.

“Do you think she has a calf?”

“If she does it’ll be her last. Come on, honey, I’ll carry you to the house.”

“No, I can…Ahhh!”

“What?”

She was panting now. “I guess I hurt my ankle.”

“Geez, Hannah, I’m sorry.” He eased his arms under her. “Hold on to my neck.”

“No, really I—”

“What? You want to carry
me?
”

She laughed, but the sound was raspy.

“Easy, honey. Easy,” he said. “Come on.”

“No, really!”

“Really, what?” he asked, straightening with her in his arms. But when his gaze caught hers, he saw there were tears in her eyes, sparkling there, not yet set loose. “Hannah.” He breathed her name.

“Please,” she murmured. “It’s my job. I said I could do it, and I…” She drew a catchy breath. “It’s important that I do.”

He’d thought he’d seen stubbornness before. When Nate was eight years old he’d insisted he could ride Cranky’s first calf. It took him twelve tries. By the time he was finished, his arms were nicked up like a distressed end table, and his face had sported more colors than an artist’s palette, but he’d ridden the calf.

“You’re saying you’won’t be happy until you’ve checked the stock?” he asked.

Mere inches separated their faces. Such proximity did nasty things to his blood pressure.

“This is the first job I’ve ever had.” Her words were very soft, like a child’s admission of some secret sin that the whole world already knew. To laugh at her would certainly be criminal.

“Really?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Then you’d better see it through,” he said, and carried her away from the house.

“I can walk.”

“No, you can’t.” He proceeded to make a round of the pasture with her in his arms. Not far from where she’d been struck, they found Cranky hovering over her firstborn. The calf was on its feet but shaking with cold.

“Shouldn’t we put them in the barn?” Hannah asked.

“I’ll get you in the house, then come back and take care of that.”

“But…”

It was a mistake to glance into her eyes, for they were too wide and too pleading.

“Of course, I could use some help,” he said.

He carried her to the gate that stood between the newborn yard and the pregnant heifer pasture. Setting her gingerly on her feet, he backed up a couple careful paces.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“All right. Make sure no cows go in or out until I get back. I’m going to be carrying baby, so Cranky might be a little testy.”

“I noticed she had a propensity toward that.”

He almost reached out and touched her cheek to assure himself she was all right, but he stopped himself just in time.

“Just make sure you keep the gate between you and the cow,” he said.

“You can count on it.”

The rain had let up a little by the time he reached Cranky and the baby. Talking all the while, Ty approached the two slowly, then bent, never taking his gaze from the cow, and lifted the calf into his arms. Being careful to keep the newborn between himself and the mother, he backed slowly toward the barn. The cow followed with worried grunts and snuffled warnings, but finally they were through the gate.

Placing the baby down on the deep bedding of straw beneath the roof, Ty backed away and returned to Hannah.

“Good job,” he said.

“Yeah.” She smiled tentatively. “I can stand by a fence with the best of them,” she said, and eased the gate shut.

“You did good,” he insisted, and because he couldn’t help himself, he bent and lifted her into his arms again.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he shushed her.

“Don’t bother arguing,” he said. “I do this for everyone.”

“Really?”

Her face was very close to his. He could smell the sweet freshness of her shampoo but couldn’t quite place it. Lemon? Papaya? Something that spoke of wealth and warmth, not of cow yards and twisted ankles. How long would she be here?

She cleared her throat. He felt her tension against his arms. “I suppose you carried Howard around just like this?” she asked.

It was difficult to even recall the old cowhand’s leathery face when she was near. “You bet,” he said. “All the time. It was in our contract. And he weighed more. ‘Bout four inches shorter and fifty pounds heavier. You should gain some weight.”

“Trying to make me look like Howard?” she asked.

“It’d be better for my blood pressure.” He snorted. “Can you get the door?”

She did so with some difficulty, opening the barn door far enough to allow them to squeeze through.

They made a quick trip between the cattle stalls, then through the horse barn. All was quiet.

By the time they reached the house, Ty was feeling the strain on his back and arms.

“Door,” he said.

She opened it with an ease borne of practice.

He strode quickly across the linoleum. “You know what I said about gaining weight? I changed my mind,” he admitted, and bending, deposited her carefully on the couch. But when she was settled there, he found it impossible to draw away immediately.

“Here.” He knelt near her feet. “Let me get those boots off.”

“I can do it.”

“Lie back,” he ordered.

She did so. “I feel like an idiot.”

“We all get trampled on once in a while,” he said, reminding them both of his story about Cranky 1.

He eased off her left boot.

She winced a little. “At least you didn’t laugh,” she said.

No, laughter had been the furthest thing from his mind. The panic had momentarily drowned his sense of humor. “How does it feel?”

“Fine.”

“You lie,” he said, and slipped off her other boot.

After depositing mem in the hallway, he returned to her side.

“Want some pillows?”

“Really, you don’t have to—”

But he turned away, returning in a few minutes with a trio of pillows and an ice pack. After removing her coat and covering her with a blanket, he propped her up, then moved back down to her feet.

“We’re gonna have to get that sock off.”

“Eventually,” she said.

“Now.”

“Are you always so bossy?”

“Sometimes I’m worse.”

“I’m sure if I just rest it’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Or maybe it’ll be swollen up like an eggplant.”

“Eggplant?”

“Fat and purple.”

“That’d be bad.”

“Yeah.” Setting his hands to her ankle, he paused with a scowl. “This could be ugly,” he warned.

“You’re telling me,” she said. “I didn’t shave my legs today.”

“I’ll try to hide my horror. Ready?”

She nodded.

In the end it wasn’t as bad as he had feared. She hissed an inhalation between her teeth as he eased her sock off, but other than that, she remained silent.

The ankle was slightly swollen but not discolored.

“You must have twisted it when you fell,” he said, fingering the swelling. “I’ll get you something for the pain.”

He was gone for several minutes. Hannah could hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. But soon he was back, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate and an assortment of other stuff.

She swallowed the pills he gave her and sipped the chocolate.

Tyrel drew up a chair next to her.

“I think we should ice it and bandage it,” he said. “Unless you want to go straight to the doctor.”

“The doctor?” She laughed. “It’s nothing.”

His gaze held hers. “Every time I think I’ve got a loop on you, you throw me,” he said. “Surely Daddy wouldn’t be happy if he knew his little girl were injured and unattended.”

For a moment, she considered telling him that Daddy had begged her to stay at The Lone Oak. But her pride stopped her. “I’m not as delicate as you think.”

“Delicate?” he said, feeling breathless. “Sometimes I think you could whip me and Nate with nothing more than the sharp edge of your tongue. Then sometimes…” He shrugged. “You’re the kind to make a man wonder, Hannah Nelson.”

She glanced at her mug. “I used to ride a horse called Sargeant Pepper. He could clear six feet without breaking a sweat. But sometimes he’d get sloppy, and the thing about Sarge was, he didn’t care if he fell. Shelby used to call him The Tank.”

Tyrel was watching her very closely, as if absorbing every word. She shouldn’t speak of her past, she knew, shouldn’t trust him. After all, her life was in danger. Not to mention
her heart. But he seemed so safe, so comforting, so alluring that it all but left her speechless.

“Anyway, we’d made it to the triple bars. He was jumping strong. But he didn’t get quite enough lift We came down together, but he got to be on top.” She picked absently at a loose thread in the blanket.

“So what happened?”

“I fractured my wrist Daddy insisted I spend a few days in the hospital, and then he bought me a new Porsche.”

“A step up from the Rabbit,” he said.

“Yes. He bought me a Porsche and begged me not to ride again.”

“And did you?”

She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. But suddenly it did. All her life had come down to money and bribes, it seemed. And for the first time she understood what her father had meant in his letter. Life wasn’t made up of things and possessions, but of effort and achievements. Achievements she’d never achieved.

“I rode some,” she said. “But I had other things to do.”

“Like?”

“Buff my toenails.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work. “Shelby said if I didn’t want to try he didn’t need me there.” She paused. The square of the window was absolutely black. “He was never impressed with either my money or my name. He said he didn’t need anyone who didn’t have the heart.”

“Heart?” Tyrel’s voice was nothing more than a warm murmur. “I’ve never known anyone with more heart than you, Hannah.”

Suddenly she wished he would kiss her, would pull her into his arms and tell her she was worthwhile, strong, wonderful, sexy, smart Right now, just hearing him say she had good diction might ease her mind.

“Well…” He cleared his throat after an eternity of silence. “I’ll bandage that ankle.”

She considered arguing, but it hardly seemed worth the effort.

Rising from his chair, he retrieved an Ace bandage from the floor. Then, lifting her legs, he scooted under her feet His hands were very warm on her ankle, and his thigh, beneath the pad of her foot, felt as firm and warm as a stallion’s chest. He wrapped her ankle with efficiency and care, and despite her hopes, the job was soon finished.

“Did you do that for Howard, too?” she asked, feeling breathless and silly.

“Sure,” he said, “but you’ve got nicer…everything.”

Their gazes caught.

“Well, I’ll, uh…get you to bed.”

She nodded, though she wasn’t the least bit tired.

In a moment he lifted her in his arms again. The stairs creaked beneath their combined weight. He pressed her door open with his elbow. On the bed, Sean arched his back, then slunk away.

Ty deposited her gently against the rumpled blankets, but he didn’t immediately draw his hands away. “Hannah…”

She stared at him, lost in a hundred thoughts she should not be allowing. “Yes?” The single word sounded uncertain, as though it wasn’t sure if it were a question or an answer to something that had not yet been asked.

Ty drew a deep breath, then bending closer, swept a few strands of hair from her brow and kissed her forehead. “Sleep well,” he said and turned away.

“Ty.” His name came to her lips without her permission.

He turned in the doorway, his expression solemn, his body tense.

A thousand errant words flashed through her mind.
Stay with me, Ty. I love you, Ty.

She banished them all. “Did you do that for Howard?” she asked. He looked bewildered. She felt like an idiot, knowing she was only trying to delay his inevitable departure. “Kiss him?” she whispered.

His grin was like warm brandy, slow, exhilarating. “Sleep
in,” he said, and turning, pulled the door nearly closed behind him.

T
Y WOKE JUST AFTER
six o’clock. Three calves had been born during the night. He’d spent time with each, iodining their navels, administering vitamin A shots. He should be tired. And yet his bed held little appeal. Not when
she
wasn’t there with him.

Shaking his head, Tyrel banished the thought and dressed himself in jeans, T-shirt and a long-sleeved flannel shirt. Within minutes he was in the hallway, but despite his better judgment, he couldn’t quite force himself past her door.

Knocking on the wall, he quietly called her name.

No answer.

“Hannah,” he said again, and opening the door a crack, peeked inside. The bed was empty except for the one-and-ahalf-eared cat who arched his back and made an unreceptive noise low in his throat.

Closing the door, Ty hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Where’s Hannah?”