“I will not live in your house,” CJ reaffirmed.
“Very well, then,” Jonah sauntered toward the main house. He paused and looked over his shoulder at her. “I’ve heard that smoke and heat helps to rid one of a spider infestation. Might I recommend a bonfire?”
“Heard ya moved into the main house.”
Kip’s observation startled CJ. She attempted to hide her surprise by his sudden presence and focused instead on wrapping Remmy’s knee. It was healing well. In a week, she could try mounting her. Although Jonah would probably throw fits over that, too. She wasn’t listening to his instruction that only he would care for the Appaloosa. He didn’t understand how to properly wrap the knee, and he was so buried in his ledgers that he probably didn’t even realize she had Remmy in the corral again.
“Spiders, huh?”
“Stuff it, Kip.” CJ didn’t want to defend herself to another man. Especially Kip.
“Hey.” He held up his palms. “Spiders give me the willies, too.”
But his eyes searched her face. Main house. Jonah. Bachelor. Single woman. Old man. Or was it more? CJ realized their eyes had locked. She looked away and leaned her head against Remmy’s side. The wrap was complete. She let the horse’s leg go, and Remmy shifted her weight, tendering the wounded limb.
“So—uh—the mustangs…”
Kip’s hesitation was clear. He didn’t want to usurp her authority, God love him, and yet he wasn’t confident. The men were waiting to bring in the mustangs. They’d been corralled for several days now. They were itching to start breaking them.
“Yes.” CJ ran her hands along Remmy’s dotted coat, the horse warm beneath her touch. “We need to drive them here. Into the two main corrals.”
“Separate the young ones?”
“Not yet.”
Kip nodded and picked some sandburs off his jeans. He gave her a sideways glance. CJ waited. There was something on his mind. More than the mustangs.
“Heard ’bout that spring shindig in town this weekend?”
So that was it.
CJ made pretense to run her fingers through Remmy’s mane. The horse turned her head and nudged CJ’s arm.
“Yes.”
How had Kip even heard about it?
“There’s gonna be a dance.”
“Mmhmm.” CJ wrestled with intuition. It was coming. An invitation to go on his arm. Highly inappropriate for him to ask, considering her position. Highly tempting to accept, considering her love of dancing. She could wear a beautiful dress. The pink one in her trunk that she’d packed on a whim.
“I was thinkin’—I mean, I know that—”
Kip’s stumble was interrupted as Jonah’s voice cracked the tension-riddled air that embraced Kip and CJ.
“You’re not pondering asking your foreman to the spring dance, are you?”
Kip stiffened.
“Dandy,” CJ muttered under her breath. Jonah was everywhere. And for some reason, since she’d had no choice but to move into the main house, he’d somehow become more… persistent in questioning her every move. Charlie certainly didn’t help. He’d ask her all sorts of questions about her day over dinner. The poor man was aching to be in her boots, running the ranch, directing the men, handling the horses. He was aged, limited, and now he lived vicariously through her. CJ felt obliged to answer because she loved Charlie. But that meant Jonah was now getting nightly reports and had been questioning her reasoning even closer. Well, darn tootin’, he wasn’t going to question her choice of dance partners.
“I believe he was going to invite me.” CJ turned from Remmy, though she buried her hand in Remmy’s mane for support.
Jonah’s eyes snapped.
Kip reddened.
“Weren’t you?” CJ tossed the flippant question to her ranch hand.
Kip coughed. Cleared his throat. Picked another sandbur off his sleeve. “I figgered—ain’t right ya go alone—or not at all.”
Jonah adjusted his ridiculous English tweed cap. “I believe Charlie or I can see that Celia Jo is escorted properly, should she deem to have a desire to attend.”
Highfalutin English. CJ pursed her lips and read the challenge in Jonah’s eyes. Escorted by him? She’d rather move back into the spider-infested adobe. Maybe that was rash. She’d rather wrassle a rattler.
CJ turned her attention back to her mortified ranch hand. Kip’s brown eyes reminded her of the cattle dog she had as a kid. Hopeful but shy. “I would love to dance with you, Kip.”
“Dance, but not attend.” Jonah was quick to clarify.
“Oh no.” CJ shook her head and couldn’t help the sauce she felt rise inside and release in the form of a mischievous smile. “I’m attending with Kip. Just us. The two of us.”
A muscle in Jonah’s jaw twitched.
“Well, I’ll be.” Kip whistled under his breath.
“I have a lovely dress to wear also. Saved it just for something like this.” CJ smirked in Jonah’s direction. His eyes narrowed. She swept her own gaze across his annoyed expression and rested it on Kip’s delighted face. “Do you like pink?”
Chapter 8
What’s got ya all fired up?” Charlie settled in a chair, his callused hands wrapped around a cup of Arbuckles.
Jonah sniffed the coffee appreciatively, but his mind was scattered. He stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his string tie. String tie. In England, he’d be decked out with cravat, green silk vest, and coattails. Here in New Mexico territory, he wore a ribbon around his neck and questioned his senses in even going to a ridiculous spring dance—miles away in town, no less. Was he that starved for socialization? Never. It was that Roadrunner that left him behind in a cloud of dust to hang off the arm of her own ranch hand. Celia Jo had no more sense than a court jester.
“Ain’t goin’ to answer me?” The hot coffee slurped as Charlie sucked it through his teeth to cool it as he drank.
Jonah yanked the tie and threw it onto the side table. Bloody string.
“Celia Jo.”
“CJ?” Charlie’s eyebrow raised.
Drat if the old cowboy didn’t have a twinkle in his eye. It irritated Jonah, and he had to ask again, though on the day of Charlie’s arrival, he hadn’t liked the answer. “Why?”
“Why what?” Another sip of Arbuckles.
“Why did you—you con me into hiring her?”
Charlie drew back and furrowed his graying brows. “It wharn’t no con. Ya writ me and asked if I knew someone who could be yer foreman and I told ya who. That’s all.”
“She’s a woman.”
“So, ya did notice.”
“Charlie!” Jonah didn’t mean to snap at the man, but his patience was as threadbare as Kip’s neckerchief.
“She ain’t doin’ a good job?” Charlie challenged.
“Of course she is. Far better than I expected.”
“So where’s yer problem?”
Jonah planted his fingers on the bridge of his nose and squeezed. “She’s—she’s… a she.”
“’Bout time ya put that one to rest. I tell ya, ’tween you and CJ, ya both have made a big issue outta nothin’.”
“She doesn’t belong here.” Jonah was emphatic. Regretfully so. He noticed Charlie’s eyes shadow.
“And you do?”
Touché.
“I at least didn’t try to become something I shouldn’t be.”
“Really? As I recall, you should be back in England, bein’ a hoity-toity lord.”
Touché again. The cowboy didn’t stop.
“But I’m still doing a man’s work.”
“Who said workin’ with horses can’t be somethin’ a woman does?”
“Well, it is hardly proper.”
“I don’t recall no Bible verse sayin’ a woman can’t be a foreman. Far as I’m concerned, the Bible sets what’s proper.”
Jonah frowned. But shouldn’t a woman know her place? That was what he’d always been taught. A lady. Refined.
“Lord knows the t
wo of ya are gonna keep pitchin’ fits until you realize He gave ya both talents. You should hoot ’n holler about ’em. Git all happy for ’em.”
Jonah couldn’t argue with that. He was arguing more with his pride now. And maybe, if he were honest, his heart. Ever since the tarantula, holding CJ in his embrace, and now seeing her in the morning, fresh, pretty, with the passion and force of a desert dust storm, something inside of him saw the future. Not just the future of the ranch, but his future. Unexpected. Unwanted. CJ wasn’t… Well, she wasn’t what he had pictured when he let his mind rove toward the future and toward family. How would he ever reconcile a woman in trousers, swinging up on a horse, racing wild over the desert chasing mustangs?
“She should at least stop trying to fit into a man’s shoes, and embrace her womanhood.” It was a paltry argument, but it soothed Jonah’s pride.
Charlie’s eyes brightened. He looked beyond Jonah, and a smile tipped his mouth. His chuckle was husky and congested.
“Looks like she’s done that.”
Jonah turned, and a vision of pink femininity slammed into him. Celia Jo stood in the doorway, her hair piled in curls on her head with a few rebellious ones toying around her neck. Her sleeveless gown was lacy, with pink roses and other fluffy things that screamed anything but foreman.
For pity’s sake. No matter how he spun it, Celia Jo ran circles around him. Maybe Charlie was right. His narrow mind had diminished her talents and, in doing so, dumbed down her womanhood.
She was beautiful.
And she was going to the spring dance with Kip.
Jonah’s eyes were open wide now and locked with the most beautiful set of chocolate browns. He had been a fool.
Chapter 9
CJ took a deep breath of New Mexico night air. The compact town was hard-pressed to be busy anywhere but in the rough-hewn ballroom of the Gasper Hotel. The dance was bustling with the reunions of neighbors separated by miles of desert, hills, and canyons. People starved for socializing, and young men and women making the most of meeting each other in hopes of forging an acquaintance that might serve them well in the long run. Alongside the ranchers and their families, it seemed the nearby fort had given their men leave to attend as well. CJ wondered how many young ladies were swooning over the US Cavalry soldiers that whisked them across the dance floor with the finesse of lame mules. The Desert Pony’s ranch hands were all in attendance—well, except for Sam, who was as lazy about dancing as he was about fixing a fence. Charlie had stayed home, his face ashen and tired. CJ wished she had stayed with him.
The truth was hard to swallow, but Charlie’s gray pallor and shortness of breath told a story none of them wanted to speak of. Her heart hurt at the thought of a future with only memories of the cowboy to ease her wound-tight spirits and encourage her to keep after her dreams. For now, CJ affirmed as she gripped the porch rail of the hotel and leaned out to breathe deep of the night air, she would revel in the time she had with Charlie. Drink in his gruff but wise teachings, learn from his faith, and allow God to give her as many precious snippets of time with him as possible.
Charlie had kissed her cheek before she left the house. Jonah’s stare burned holes in her back as she’d leaned over to receive Charlie’s fond caress. The cowboy’s whisper in her ear had made her smirk.
“You give Jonah a dance now, ya hear? An’ don’t stomp on his foot on purpose.”
She typically heeded Charlie’s advice. Tonight, she wouldn’t. If she had to dance with Jonah Sparks, he could well expect bruised toes. CJ argued with her feelings. One moment she wanted to find vindication against the ranch owner, and the next…
Her dress conjured up her childish daydreams of being a princess, and the echo of Jonah’s distinguished British accent nearly made it seem possible that image might spring into life. He had gazed at her as she went to the door, scowled as she took Kip’s arm, and looked remarkably morose for a man who had a distinct dislike for his foreman. She’d even caught him eyeing her as she danced. Once, he’d stepped forward and her heart skipped, thinking he was finally going to claim that foot-bruising dance. But Kip stepped in to dance with her for another turn, completely within his right as her escort. She’d shifted her focus to him and the coarse attractiveness of a hardworking cowboy who respected her for the very fact she wore boots more than a princess gown.
But she wasn’t surprised or hurt when Kip asked if she minded him taking a different young lady for a turn. He wasn’t versed in propriety and etiquette. CJ was actually relieved that someone had caught Kip’s eye for a moment. It would be horribly awkward to return to the mustangs in the morning, giving him direction, and feeling his mooning eyes resting on her retreating back. She had to be honest. For as much as CJ admired Kip, he didn’t rouse the butterflies in her stomach in the same way Jonah did. Which was a shame.
A man cleared his throat behind her. A cool breeze lifted a ringlet off her cheek as she turned. The light from inside the hotel spilled onto the porch. The long, paned windows allowed CJ a peek inside over the man’s shoulders. The dancing continued. She shifted her attention back to the man who had the distinct scent of cigar clinging to his suit coat.
CJ eyed the handlebar mustache that hung from a rugged face and matched the man’s graying hair. He appeared respectable. At least in a nondingy, raw cowboy, coarse, saloon-carousing sort of way.
“Lloyd. Frank Lloyd.” He extended a gloved hand. His smile reached his eyes and sparkled.
CJ liked him immediately. He reminded her just a tad of her father’s commanding presence mixed with Charlie’s aged softness. She exchanged greetings with him, wondering who he was and why he’d searched her out in her pink finery.
“Heard you’re the foreman at the Desert Pony.”
Interesting. He didn’t even slip when he said it, and his eyes were kind. What CJ wished she could garner from Jonah.
“I am.” She tugged her shawl tighter around her bare arms as the night breeze kicked up tumbleweed and a brush of cool air.
“Mighty fine.”
“Thank you.” CJ waited.
“I’ll admit to being a tad surprised Jonah Sparks hired a woman to run his ranch, but”—Mr. Lloyd gave her a respectful smile, one that earned another notch of her trust—“maybe he was smarter than the rest of us.”
It was flattering. CJ couldn’t help but smile. Mr. Lloyd appreciated her intelligence and womanhood, all in a manner that left her feeling complimented. Valued, even.
The older man held his hat in his hands. Proper. Courteous.
“You let me know if you ever have issue with Jonah. I’d be more than happy to consider you for my ranch.”
CJ brightened. Another position. Another place to work? She hadn’t considered that if things fell through with Jonah she might have options elsewhere.
“Rumor has it you just rounded up some fine horseflesh.”
Pride infused her. CJ couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips. “We did. They’re beautiful.”
Mr. Lloyd gave a short nod. “I’m lookin’ to buy good ponies. I’d be interested in making a deal for them.”
Jonah’s image flashed across her mind. She should probably direct Mr. Lloyd to him, but Mr. Lloyd had sought her out. Should Jonah win their sparring match and send her packing, CJ would need to have good rapport with Mr. Lloyd. Especially if he could be a potential future employer. Besides, she was more than capable of brokering a deal, if one was to be had. The idea of preparing a strong financial arrangement for the mustangs and presenting it to Jonah to shake hands on enticed CJ. Not only would she prove she was a quality foreman, but that she also knew how to do business. The running of the ranch was something the Brit should leave to a New Mexican, born and raised.
“They won’t be broke until later this summer. But I’d be pleased to talk with you about it.”
“Don’t need ’em broke.” Mr. Lloyd gave a short nod as if to affirm his statement. “Lookin’ to buy ’em green.”
CJ smiled. Well,
if that didn’t beat all. An entire spring and summer’s worth of work done before it started. If she could set up a deal with Mr. Lloyd, they might even be able to scout out a new herd and double up for the year. Anticipation welled within her, along with the conjuring of Jonah Sparks’s speechless face when he found out she had single-handedly found a buyer for the unbroken mustangs for a very fair price. It would be… magnificent.
“Mr. Lloyd, let’s talk numbers.”
CJ bit back a yelp as Jonah’s warm, spicy breath tickled her hair.
“What were you speaking about with Mr. Lloyd?”
Tarnation, did his nose nuzzle her hair before he drew back? She straightened at her place at the beverage table. A glance around for Kip showed her he was engaged with his new fascination dressed in green. CJ cleared her throat and gave Jonah a coy smile.
“A gentleman doesn’t ask a lady to repeat her confidences with another gentleman.”
Jonah’s jaw dropped and then snapped shut. The dark shadow around his jaw made him intimidating, as did his warm fingers that curled around her wrist.
“Come.” His order was accompanied by a tug on her arm. CJ dug her feet into the floor. Jonah’s eyes narrowed when he saw the scuffed toes of her boots. Yes, I’m wearing boots, Mr. Sparks, with my pink silk and handwoven lace.
“Come.”
Another tug, this one more insistent.
CJ palmed her free hand over his that held her wrist. “You’re going to cause a scene.”
Jonah’s eyes darkened. “No. I do believe that is something you will cause quite well without my assistance.”
His final tug made CJ stumble forward and into him.
“My word, Miss Matheson, I do believe you might need to refrain yourself from more wine.” He said it loud enough to draw a few raised eyebrows from a grapple of ladies nearby and some chuckles from their escorts.
CJ burned a glare into Jonah’s face, but he ignored her and led her from the room.
“Let go of me.” This was ridiculous!
“I think not.” He gave her wrist another pull.
The Cowboy’s Bride Collection: 9 Historical Romances Form on Old West Ranches Page 54
