Dawn Comes Early (13 page)

Red flashed before her eyes. What did he think she'd been trying to do?

She threw the rope on the ground and crossed her arms. “I'm tired and I don't want to do any more!”

Ruckus leaned so close that had his nose been less crooked it would have collided with hers. “By the time I get back you better be able to nail that fence post with that there rope,” he said brusquely. He turned and stalked away, then stopped. “The boss lady expects you for dinner tonight.” He glanced at her over his shoulder with knitted brow. “And if you know what's good for you, you better tighten your fiddle strings. Right now you look like something the cat's dragged in and that ain't gonna score no points with Miz Walker.” Shaking his head, he walked away.

Watching his retreating back, she chewed on her bottom lip and felt a sinking feeling. Why now, after all this time, did the ranch owner want to have dinner with her? Was it to send her packing?

The day had gone from bad to worse. How she regretted lashing out at Ruckus. True, he demanded much from her, but sometimes she had the distinct feeling he was secretly on her side. Of course that was before she nearly shot him in the foot.

Still, he was her only ally. If anyone could convince Miss Walker to let her stay, it was Ruckus. Somehow she had to find a way to get back in his good graces.

She snatched up the rope and heaved a sigh. She had practiced for a week solid and the only thing she'd managed to nail was thin air.

Determined not to let a length of rope get the best of her, she tied her lariat loop exactly as Ruckus had taught her. She then coiled the rope and swung the noose overhead, eyes on the fence post not ten feet in front of her. Somehow the free end of the rope got tangled around her foot and she lost control of the noose. Instead of landing on the fence post as she planned, it dropped over the head of her grazing horse.

Startled, Decker glanced around with frenzied eyes, kicked up his heels, and bounded around the pasture, dragging her on the ground behind him.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” He pulled her halfway around the corral before her foot broke free of the rope and she let go. Sprawled belly-down in the mud, she gasped for air.

“I have to say, ma'am, that was some mighty fancy roping.”

Startled by the male voice, she lifted her head. Luke Adams sat on his horse staring down at her from the other side of the fence.

Embarrassed to be seen like that she was momentarily tongue-tied, which only added to her dismay. She had suffered more indignities than she could imagine, but having Mr. Adams of all people see her sprawled on the ground was the worst indignity of all.

“I never saw anyone lasso a horse backward like that.” When she made no reply, his forehead creased in concern. “Are you all right?”

No, she was not all right. She was covered in mud and felt like a fool. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She sat up and, holding her arms out, stared down at her muddied clothes.

“I quit!”

“I didn't figure you as a quitter.” His mouth twitched with amusement. “I figured you'd get fired, but I didn't figure you'd quit.”

She glared at him. “You thought I'd get fired?”

He dismounted and tied his horse to the fence. Telling Homer to stay, he then climbed over the wooden barrier and knelt by her side. Pulling the bandanna from around his neck, he leaned toward her.

She jerked back so quickly mud splashed all over his trousers. Before she had a chance to apologize, he splashed her back and laughed.

“So you think this is funny, do you?” She picked up a handful of dirt, but before she could throw it at him, he waved his bandanna in surrender.

“I give up,” he said, his eyes filled with humor.

“Chicken.” She tossed the dirt down and brushed her hands together.

He gave her a lopsided grin that made her heart turn over. “You'd better smile when you say that.”

She
was
smiling. She couldn't help it. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mess up your clothes. I've had a hard morning. It's been one disaster after another.”

“It can't be all that bad. It looks to me like you're gainin' ground,” he said, referring to her mud-covered clothes.

Laughing at his joke, she shook her head. “I don't know that Ruckus sees it that way.”

She tilted her head to the side. “I never got a chance to thank you for your kindness on the day I arrived.” She had meant to write him a note, but for some reason could never figure out quite what to say.

“No need to thank me, ma'am. I reckon anyone would have done the same.”

He moved closer and she tensed, her playful mood evaporating as quickly as a soap bubble.

His forehead creased in a frown. “I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're worried about.”

“I know that,” she said. It was a lie, of course. She knew nothing of the sort. Every man she'd ever known had given her reason not to trust him, the sole exceptions being fictional men, the ones she'd written about—men who sprang from her imagination or maybe from the depths of her heart.

He dabbed her nose gently before moving his cloth down to her chin. The nearness of him made her heart pound and she closed her eyes. Perhaps if she didn't look at him, his presence wouldn't seem so overwhelming.

Wrong. She could still feel his nearness, sense his gaze on her, and breathe in his essence. His gentle touch sent currents of warmth through her. Worse, he made her feel things she didn't want to feel. She'd vowed never to be like her mother, never to depend on a man, never to be ruled by love, and she meant to keep that pledge. To do otherwise would jeopardize any chance of proving herself a worthy heiress to the ranch.

Miss Walker's advertisement in the newspaper, shortly after her publisher dropped her, couldn't have come at a better time. Whether it was serendipity or just plain luck, Kate didn't know, but she was convinced her problems were over. If she could prove to Miss Walker she was capable of learning the ranching business, her future was secure. She wouldn't have to depend on anyone but herself. Nor would she ever again have to watch a man walk out of her life, tossing her aside like yesterday's newspaper. She would win the respect of all who knew her and never again be made to feel inferior.

He completed the task and she opened her eyes. “Thank you.”

He studied her. “You aren't really gonna quit, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” she said, though after today the choice may no longer be hers to make.

“There you go,” he said, standing.

He offered her his hand and she let him pull her to her feet. To refuse his help would be rude, especially since he had shown her such kindness.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, pulling her hand out of his as one would pull away from a fire.

“Had to deliver a bunch of new horseshoes. They go through them like penny candy around here.”

Aware of how awful she must look, she backed away. “I . . . I better go and change.”

He nodded. “Like I said, that was some mighty fancy roping.”

He held her gaze and much to her dismay she felt herself blush. With a quick farewell she whirled around and marched to the ranch house. Only when she had reached the security of the porch did she dare look back.

Luke Adams hadn't moved from where she'd left him, his face shaded by his hat. She couldn't say for sure, but she had the feeling that he was still watching her, and the very thought made her already-pounding heart beat that much faster.

Later that afternoon, Kate dipped her hand into the tank and splashed water on her heated face. It felt cool and refreshing. Her body was still sore from her unfortunate roping accident earlier in the day. Now she ducked in the shade of the windmill to take a break.

Laughter drifted from the direction of the ranch house. Some of the other ranch hands were relaxing on the verandah. Mexican Pete leaned against a post, arms folded, straw hat shading his face. Stretch was telling one of his tall tales, this one about the winter he spent on a cattle ranch in Montana.

“It was so cold that your words froze soon as they left your mouth. It took two weeks for the words to thaw out enough to be heard.” This brought more laughter.

How she longed to join them and sit in the shade away from the heat, but she didn't dare. Feedbag, Wishbone, and the others considered her an outsider and, for that reason, she knew they would not welcome her company. Sighing, she splashed more water on her face.
Just wait till I'm the boss lady. They won't be so eager to discount me then!

She walked around the barn looking for Ruckus. Normally, she would ask for a longer break, but she was already in his bad graces and didn't want to rile him any more than she already had.

Ruckus rounded the corner. “Where's Decker?”

“In the barnyard,” she replied.

His lips puckered as they tended to do whenever she called something by the wrong name. “After you brush the
chicken
feathers off your horse, have Luke check his shoes.”

She grimaced. “I meant corral. Decker is in the corral.”

He spun around and walked away and she hurried to get her horse. A short while later she led Decker around the barn to where Luke and Ruckus stood talking.

Ruckus was discussing a paint horse that had been giving him trouble all week. “Normally, he's so gentle I could stake him to a hatpin and he would stay put. Lately he's so ornery he practically bucked off my whiskers.”

Luke examined the horse's hoof, shaking his head. Obviously he didn't like what he saw. Not wishing to interrupt their conversation she stopped and waited.

“I'm not much in favor of cold-shoeing,” Luke said. “It made sense during the War Between the States. Time and equipment were limited back then, but this is peacetime.” He ran his finger along the outer edge of the horse's hoof. “You can't get as good a fit. That's why your horse keeps throwin' a shoe. See this? This should be smooth and it's not.”

“I knew that greenhorn farrier didn't know what he was doin'. The horses just didn't cotton to him. Soon as they saw him comin' they took off on the run, leaving their shadows twenty minutes behind. All he done is make the horses ornery.”

Luke set the hoof down gently and straightened to stroke the horse's neck. The black-and-white horse had refused to let anyone ride him in recent days but seemed to welcome Luke's touch. “I reckon you'd be ornery, too, if you were wearing ill-fitting boots.”

“O.T. sent him packing and now we don't have a farrier. The job's yours if you want it.” He pointed to the open door of the ranch's blacksmith shop. “As you can see we're fully equipped and the boss lady pays well.”

Kate held her breath. Luke working here? At the ranch? Finding the prospect vaguely disturbing, she waited for Luke's reply, but before he had a chance to respond, Ruckus motioned for her to join them.

Luke greeted her with a smile. “Your horse givin' you trouble too?” he asked. He said nothing about their earlier encounter, but his eyes sent a private message.

“I suspect it's the other way around,” Ruckus muttered.

“Let's take a look.” After running his hand along Decker's flank, Luke lifted a back leg and rested it upon his leather-aproned knee to examine it. She marveled that a man able to bend iron was capable of such a gentle touch.

“Got a loose shoe here,” he said. Locking the horse's leg between his knees, Luke pulled a rasp from his apron pocket and began working on the clinches. Decker twisted his head to look behind him, ears straight up, but didn't move.

Ruckus watched for a moment before nodding in approval. “We'll talk later. Let me know what you decide.” He walked away, leaving her alone with Luke.

“Did . . . did I do that?” she asked. “The loose shoe?”

“I doubt it. Nails come out. It happens.” He glanced at her. “You know what they say. For want of a nail the shoe was lost . . .”

Recognizing the childhood ditty, she joined in: “For want of a shoe the horse was lost.”