Once Upon a Cowboy (11 page)

Cami stood near the corral, practicing her roping. Twelve of her fourteen day trial period had passed and hers remained the only optimistic outlook regarding her future employment at the A-OK. Not that she couldn't change those other less-than-positive viewpoints. Unfortunately, it would take time, something in distressingly short supply.

On the plus side, she'd taken to grooming, riding, and mending fences just fine. She grimaced. Okay. If she were honest, she'd admit she could groom and saddle Petunia, keep mostly atop the horse when riding, and string barbed wire without getting stuck more than six or seven times. On the minus side, she couldn't for the life of her get the hang of roping. And that was a big minus. Because until she did, her job remained in jeopardy.

Not that it wasn't anyway.

Ever since the mud hole and gate incident, her days on the range had been few and far between. Even now, Holt and Gabby were off together taking care of various "one man" jobs. They never could adequately explain, if these were one man jobs, why it took two men to do them. And if it took two men, why she couldn't be one of the two, freeing up the other for the real one man jobs.

Oh, she'd asked, all right. And they'd hemmed and they'd hawed and they'd muttered beneath their breath a whole lot and shuffled in the dirt enough to raise a miniature dust storm. Gabby had turned a bit pink about the ears. And a frown as black as a thundercloud had darkened Holt's face. He'd slammed his hat low on his brow, and said "Just because, damn it," as if that ended the discussion. Then he'd wheeled Loco around and taken off before she'd had a chance to set him straight.

Agnes, Holt's housekeeper, acted even worse. She'd returned three days ago from vacation and made it clear "hands" weren't welcome in the ranch house, especially hands not worth their salt and citified to boot. Set on a course guaranteed to aggravate, she kept shaking her head and grumbling about "history repeating itself" and "there goes the ranch." That in particular stung.

But most frustrating of all, the first batch of guests was expected any time and, unlike all the other wranglers, she didn't know what to do when they arrived. Not that she hadn't been told.

"Keep out of the way," Agnes had sniffed. "I'll take care of the guests."

"Show 'em your yo-yo tricks," Gabby suggested. "Jes' don't bean nobody."

"Give me your rope," Holt ordered. "I can't have you dragging any of the guests through the mud."

"Aw, Holt," Cami replied in a mortified undertone. "Don't ask me to give up my rope. How am I going to meet your conditions of employment if I can't practice with it?"

He started to speak, then changed his mind. "Fine. Keep the rope. But stay away from anything that breathes. Got it?"

"Got it."

Now she stood, feet planted firmly in the dust, determined to practice until she collapsed. Not that it did much good. The closest she'd come to roping something happened when she'd dropped the blasted loop on top of herself. But she wouldn't give up. No, sir. Not her.

For the fiftieth time that day, she swung the lariat into the air and tossed it toward the corral. For the fiftieth time it spun out in front of her. To her utter amazement, this time it dropped neatly over the fence post. A quick tug and it pulled tight. Son of a gun! She stood for a moment, staring in disbelief. A slow, wide grin split her face and she whooped for joy, punching the air with her fists. She'd done it. She'd finally done it. She'd lassoed what she'd meant to lasso.

So what if it couldn't move, let alone moo. Once she got the hang of roping fence posts, she'd have no problem roping cattle. Holt would be impressed. Gabby would be amazed. Agnes would be speechless—finally. And Holt would sweep her up into those strong, powerful arms of his and twirl her around.

He'd say wonderful things like, "You're hired for the season. And by the way, this calls for another of those mind-splintering kisses." He'd duck down and capture her mouth with his. Romantic music would swell from speakers hidden in Gabby's mustache and she and Holt would ride off into the sunset searching for cows to rope. Life would be perfect again.

As if her success set off a predetermined signal, a car pulled into the drive. A man and woman climbed out and looked around. From the back seat tumbled a little girl no more than five. Agnes appeared on the porch and greeted the couple. The little girl gave the housekeeper the once over with a shrewd and discerning eye, abandoned her parents, and skipped over to Cami's side.

"Hi. My name's Tina. This is my first time on a ranch. We had to drive hours and hours to get here. I almost threw up three times. Mommy has a headache and Daddy said a bad word." She took a quick breath and clasped her hands behind her back. "What's your name?"

"Cami."

Tina stared, her shiny brown eyes filled with awe. "Are you a
real
cowboy?"

Cami stood a little straighter, tucked her thumbs into her belt and rocked back on her heels. "Sure am."

"Can you rope and ride and shoot and everything?"

"Well..." Cami strode over to the fence post to retrieve her rope. "To be honest, I can't shoot," she admitted.

The little girl appeared momentarily disappointed, but she made a quick recovery. "Will you show me how to rope?"

Another car pulled into the drive. Two boys and a girl crossed to Cami's side, their parents joining Agnes and the first couple on the porch.

"You gonna rope something?" one of the boys demanded.

She hesitated, recalling Holt's explicit instructions to keep her rope away from anything that breathed. She glanced from the eager faces gathered around her, to Agnes nattering on the porch with the adults. One little toss couldn't hurt, could it?

"Well, ah, I guess so," Cami said. She gathered up her rope and stood next to the children. Swinging the loop into the air, she peered down at them and grinned. "Now don't get in the way. And whatever you do, don't go off behind me."

She aimed for the corral fence and tossed. For the second time, the rope dropped dead center over the post. It took every ounce of self-control not to jump up and down for joy and execute a very uncowboylike happy dance. She'd done it. She'd actually done it. Twice! Over the hill beyond the corral she caught a glimpse of Holt and Gabby riding toward the ranch. Guilt stabbed her. Had they seen? She shook the rope loose and reeled it in, wrapping it around her arm as she did so. With any luck, they hadn't.

"Do it again! Do it again!" the children clamored.

"I don't know," Cami said, reluctant to borrow trouble. Obeying Holt warred with her desire to show him how much she'd improved. If he could see her actually lasso something, maybe he'd keep her on as his wrangler.

"Please!" they begged. "Once more?"

"One more time and that's it for now," she said, twirling the lariat.

She peeked Holt's way. She could tell by the sudden jerk of his head and the way he straightened in the saddle that she'd caught his eye. And he'd taken note of the children at her side. To her dismay, Loco's pace picked up significantly. Did he really consider her such a hazard? Well, she'd show him. She'd prove herself. Boy howdy, would she prove herself. She twirled the rope for all she was worth.

"Oh, look!" Tina exclaimed the exact instant Cami started into her throw. "A sheepdog."

It proved just enough of a distraction. Reacting without thought, Cami snapped her head to watch Git slink by. The rope, acquiring a mind of its own, snaked through the air. It landed clean again. Only this time it landed clean over Git. The sheepdog, literally at the end of his rope, howled in anguish and took off at a dead run.

Horror made her reactions a shade too slow. Before she had time to drop the rope, it twisted around her arm and yanked tight.
This can't be happening,
she had a split second to think, before Git's momentum jerked her off her feet and onto her belly. She yelped at the unexpected and painful meeting of rock against rib.

"Whoa, Git!" she shrieked. "Stop!" To her everlasting relief, he obeyed. He skidded to a halt and turned to face her. Cami gulped.

This was one pissed off animal.

She stripped the rope from her wrist before he could take it into his head to run again. "Now, Git," she began, slowly backing away and holding up her hands. "It was an accident. I swear." He was having none of it. With a furious bark, he stalked her. "I'm sorry," she tried to placate him. "Truly sorry."

He didn't look convinced. In fact, he appeared determined to explain the full extent of his pissdom. A rapid retreat seemed in order. With a quick "Excuse me, folks," she spun on her heel and ran. She darted around the hay wagon and into the barn, a barking Git at her heels. She raced past the stanchions, manure gutters, and troughs to the ladder at the far end. Dogs couldn't climb ladders, right? Lordy, she hoped not. She climbed. Fast. Git stood, paws planted on the bottom rung and howled.

Gaining the top of the ladder, she flopped onto the bales of hay, gasping for air. Whew! That was a close one. Not that she blamed the poor dog. Goodness, no. She'd be the first to admit she'd proved a bit of a trial for him. And until today, he'd been very patient. But all critters had their breaking point. She understood completely. She also understood Git had reached his.

She nibbled on a fingertip. Now to explain why she'd taken to hiding in the hayloft to Holt. Somehow she suspected that wouldn't be too easy. A low warning growl brought her head up and she shot to her feet. So much for dogs not climbing ladders. This one had managed just fine. She retreated.

"Now, Git. I'm sure we can work a deal. Let's be reasonable. How about a doggy biscuit?" He kept coming and she kept retreating. "Okay. How about two? Three? You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

He stopped and sat, scratching furiously. Cami relaxed. "Good boy. Good Git." She offered her hand. "Wanna be friends again?"

He seemed to consider. It didn't take long. Giving in, his tail twitched into a wag and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. With an enthusiastic bark, he bounded toward her. Relieved, she took a final, unthinking step backward to brace herself against the arrival of sixty pounds of playful dog.

Bad move.

Empty air greeted her booted foot. She teetered on the edge of the open loft door, scrambling for purchase, her arms pinwheeling madly. Git bounced up and gave her a forgiving lick. Gravity didn't require any extra help. With a shriek, she tumbled in a general down-and-out direction.
This is it. I'm dead,
came her final, wild thought. Her last sight was of Git standing at the loft door, staring at her, his head cocked to one side and a wide grin spread across his doggy mouth.

With a loud poof, she hit something reasonably cushy, something that broke her fall and closed around her, burying her in a bristly embrace. Cami opened her eyes, realizing she couldn't see a blessed thing. A strange thundering sounded in her ears, growing louder and louder. Then silence, an eerie, waiting sort of silence.

I've died. I've died and am floating through limbo. Scratchy limbo, but limbo. I see a light ahead of me. I'm drifting toward the light. It's growing brighter. And brighter. I can see now. I see...

Holt stared down at her from Loco's back, a clump of hay in his hands. She coughed on bits of dirt and debris.

"Is this heaven?" she asked in dazed wonder.

"Nope. Not unless your idea of heaven is my idea of hell. Leastwise, it will be hell once I get done scorching your tail feathers." He reached into the wagon, shoving hay off her.

"Maybe I should explain."

"Maybe you shouldn't. Stop wriggling, Tex. Let me make sure there's nothing broken." He checked her limbs with an impersonal touch and nodded in satisfaction. "You'll live," he informed her, though the blatant fury deepening his voice made her suspect he'd hoped otherwise. "You can thank your lucky stars you landed in the hay wagon and not three feet to the left or right. Of course, by the time I'm finished with you, you may wish you had missed the wagon altogether."

The next thing she knew, he'd snatched her up onto Loco and cradled her in his arms. They trotted across the yard and she sighed and collapsed against him. She should be worried. She should be nervous. Instead, she grinned like an idiot. "If this is hell, heaven must be incredible," she mumbled, snuggling deeper into his arms.

"Pull it together, Tex. End of the line."

He plucked her from the saddle and planted her on the ground. She swayed, struggling to anchor herself on legs turned to mush. A dozen frightened faces spun before her dust-blurred eyes.

"Hey, there. Nice meetin' you folks," she said in greeting. She managed a beaming smile, ruined by the fact that her knees buckled. "You'll forgive me if I don't stand, won't you?"

Holt leaped from his horse and wrapped a supporting arm about her waist before she hit the ground. "Hang on another minute," he murmured in her ear. In a crisp carrying voice, he announced, "Welcome to the A-OK Corral. We hope you enjoyed our little stunt show. It's our way of welcoming you to the wild and woolly west."

There was a moment of silence before relieved laughter broke out. "A show! Of course, a show," the guests commented to one another. They applauded enthusiastically. A moment later, the more astute of the ranch hands followed suit.

"Give them a wave and a smile," Holt instructed in a forceful undertone.