Rancher's Bride

by Jeanne Allan

  'And where would Sara find another job? Especially one so convenient to her home.'

  'I didn't think about that,' Dallas said.

  'Do you have any long underwear?'

  She gave him a startled look. 'No.'

  'I'll get some from Sara when I take Nicky. You can help me out today.' He grinned. 'Maybe it is about time we gave you some honest work to do around here.'

  Dallas couldn't prevent the answering grin that covered her face. Suddenly Clay looked younger and more carefree than she'd seen him since the funeral. She was reminded of the Clay she'd met ten years ago. Another thought struck her. 'Do I have to ride a horse?'

  Clay laughed. 'Can you?'

  'I rode some when I was in high school. A couple of my friends owned horses. But that was years ago.'

  'I don't see any problem. You're probably a regular bronc buster. I'll saddle up Dynamite for you.'

  'I hope you're joking,' Dallas said.

  'If you're going to be chicken, I guess we'll have to settle for the pick-up.'

  Which he'd obviously had every intention of doing all along, Dallas thought, strapped in beside Clay as they careened down the icy road, the back of the truck filled with small hay bales. 'I thought cows ate grass and stuff from pastures,' she said.

  'They do when they can get to it. Horses will paw through the snow for grass, but cows use their noses, and when the snow is this deep they can't get to it.' Clay stopped the pick-up to open a gate into the pasture. 'And in the winter they need supplemental feeding for nutrients.'

  Dallas looked about her in delight. The valley was a winter wonderland, snow coating the bushes and trees, the mountains that rimmed the valley stark white against blue skies. Here and there dark mounds dotted the white landscape, cows with their breath smoking in the cold morning air.

  'Think you can feed while I drive the pick-up?' Clay asked. 'I'd let you drive but you're such a greenhorn, you'd probably land us in a ditch or a snowbank.'

  'Such confidence. I'll feed if you'll tell me what to do.'

  'I'll show you.' He stopped the truck and led Dallas around to the back and boosted her up into the bed. 'Climb up to the top of the bales and use this to cut the twine.' He tossed her a small pocket-knife. 'I'll drive slow and you throw down bunches of the hay so that we leave a trail behind us.' Jumping back in the pick-up, he sounded the horn.

  'What do you want?' Dallas hollered.

  Clay stuck his head out of the window. 'I'm calling the cattle. Most of them have seen us and the rest will come running when they hear the horn.'

  Come running was right. Dallas could see the large beasts loping towards them from all directions. The pick-up started with a small jerk, reminding her that she was here to work, not to sightsee. She quickly sliced through the string on several bales and, pocketing Clay's knife, began tossing the loose hay behind them. As Clay manoeuvred the truck around the pasture, the trail of hay and feeding animals strung out behind them like the tail of a kite. Dallas was congratulating herself on her expertise when the pickup hit a concealed rock and the bales of hay on which she was standing teetered unexpectedly. Losing her balance, Dallas tumbled to the ground in a flurry of hay bales.

  The snow and the hay broke her fall, and as the pick-up had been travelling slowly the only damage was to her pride. Wiping the snow from her face, she looked up, expecting to see Clay jumping from the truck laughing at her, but the pick-up was continuing on its slow journey. Not nearly as slow was the bull charging towards her. Dallas had fallen away from the packed trail, and the snow where she lay was deep. She struggled to stand, but she might as well have been mired in quicksand for all the progress she made. Another quick glance showed her the bull almost upon her. The sound of the pick-up's engine drowned out her yells for Clay. There was no way she could outrun the angry beast. Dallas burrowed deep into the snow, curling up in a foetal position, her hands protectively clasped over the back of her neck. There was a snorting in her ear and then hot, pungent breath seared her face. She whimpered Clay's name.

  'Are you hurt?'

  Relief flooded over Dallas at the welcome sound of Clay's voice. 'I'm fine,' she said. Seeing the concern on his face, she added, 'I landed in nice, soft snow.'

  Clay helped her to her feet and started brushing the snow from her. 'You're sure you're OK?'

  'Yes, I—' Suddenly she remembered the bull and looked frantically over her shoulder. The bull was standing right behind her. 'Clay! The bull!' Her eyes riveted on the bull, she made a leaping plunge towards Clay. He wasn't expecting her move and they fell as one back into the snow.

  'What the hell…?' Clay struggled to sit up.

  Dallas grabbed him and tried to tunnel her way into his chest for protection. The bull nudged at her back. 'The bull!'

  'What bull?'

  Dallas squeezed her eyelids together. 'That one.' She thumbed over her shoulder. 'He charged me.'

  Clay's body began shaking beneath her. 'Dallas, that's no bull. She's a cow and gentle as a baby.'

  'A cow? Look at those enormous horns.'

  Clay stood up. 'She's a Longhorn. Both males and females have horns.'

  'If she's not a bull, why is she after me?'

  'She's not after you. She's after the hay you're lying on.' There was no mistaking the laughter in Clay's voice.

  Dallas leaped to her feet and stumbled away from the scattered hay. The cow lowered her head and started to munch the feed, totally ignoring Dallas. 'Well, how was I to know?'

  'I always thought that the difference between males and females was rather obvious.' Clay shoved the cow out of his way and kicked the hay away from the drift back towards the trampled snow and spread it out. Several more cows trotted their way.

  'If you're talking about people, sure. Males are the arrogant ones. Anyway, I was moving too fast to check for anatomical differences.'

  'You call that fast? I could have outraced you on my hands and knees,' Clay said.

  'I was slowed down by all these clothes you insisted I wear.' Plodding along at Clay's side, she added, 'I feel like the Michelin man.'

  'You don't look like the Michelin man.' Clay swept some snow from her hat.

  'More like the abominable snowman, I suppose.' They were back at the truck. Dallas turned obediently at Clay's gesture so he could remove the snow from her back before she got inside.

  Clay turned her to face him as he brushed her front. 'Abominable… maybe.'

  'Abominable, am I?' Dallas quickly leaned down and grabbed a glove full of snow. Before Clay could discern her purpose she smashed it in his face. A mistake. As Clay had claimed, she was much too slow for him. A flying tackle sent her face first into the snow. Even as she squirmed from his grasp, she was grabbing fresh ammunition and flinging it over her shoulders, but Clay was too strong for her. In seconds she was wiggling futilely beneath his hard body, her hands held outstretched in his above her head.

  'Now we'll see whose face gets washed,' he said.

  'I suppose it's too late to apologise.'

  Clay leered down from his straddled position. 'Try me.'

  'I'm sorry I washed your face with snow,' Dallas said.

  'And?'

  'And I'll never do it again.'

  'And?'

  'What do you mean, "and"?'

  'And you're sorry you called me arrogant,' Clay said.

  'If the shoe fits…' At his threatening move, she hastily shouted, 'OK, OK!' adding in a prim tone of voice, 'I'm sorry I called you arrogant.'

  Clay released her hands and rolled to one side. 'Why don't I think you're sincere?'

  Dallas rose to her feet and looked down at him supine on the snow. The truck was only two steps away from her. 'Possibly because I had my fingers crossed.' She scooped up some snow and flung it at Clay and then ran for the truck. Jumping inside, she locked the doors and grinned triumphantly at him.

  Clay grinned back. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his keys and swung them in a wide arc outside her window. Dalla
s resigned herself to the inevitable.

  'Mess with the bull, you get the horns,' Clay said in a dulcet tone as he lifted her from the truck.

  'What are you going to do?'

  'Revenge is sweet.' He dropped her in a deep drift of snow. Before she could scramble away, he fell on top of her, his body pressing her down into the snow.

  Dallas shrieked and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. She could feel his laughter as he tried to pull her away so he could wash her face. Knowing what was in store for her if he won strengthened her resistance. For all his success, she might have been glued to him.

  Finally Clay stopped struggling with her. 'All right. You win. I won't wash your face.'

  Cautiously Dallas loosened her death-grip of his neck. 'Really?' Her answer was a face full of snow. 'Cheater!' she sputtered, blinking the snow from her eyes.

  Clay brushed the snow from her face. 'I had my fingers crossed, too.'

  'That's not fair.' She blew away a tendril of hair that was stuck to the side of her mouth. 'You're bigger.'

  'Don't you know? All's fair in love and war,' Clay said.

  'But this isn't…'

  'Isn't what? Love? Or war?'

  CHAPTER FIVE

  'It's neither,' Dallas said. Despite the cold day and the snowpack beneath her, she was warm. 'Let me up.'

  'I'm much too comfortable to move. You make such a nice, soft mattress.' Clay took off his glove and trailed a finger across her cheekbone. 'You have snow on your eyelashes.' His breath smoked in the cold air, warming her face.

  'I have snow everywhere.'

  The remark was meant to be tart, but Clay spoiled the effect as he swallowed her words, his mouth covering hers in a deep kiss. He must have been supporting himself on his elbows because his body barely pressed against hers. Layers of clothing separated them, but instead of insulating her from him the clothing seemed to heighten her awareness of him. His fingers were warm against her face, while his tongue explored her willing mouth. Her body trembled in response.

  Clay shifted his weight, rubbing slightly against her body. The mere touch was enough to swell her breasts, and Dallas could feel her nipples contract to hard buttons that strained to be free. The rough texture of lace rubbed against the sensitive tips in exquisite torture. Deep within her, another, stronger need unfurled its hot demands, and Dallas welcomed the weight of Clay's hips against hers. Need and curiosity impelled her to explore the moist recesses of his mouth with her tongue. Jolts of desire shot through her veins.

  'It's snowing.'

  Dallas blinked, aware of little beyond the loss of Clay's lips. 'What?'

  'It's starting to snow.' Studying her face, he rubbed her lower lip with his thumb. 'You're too damned distracting,' he finally said. Springing to his feet, he reached down with one hand and pulled Dallas to her feet. 'We'd better finish up the feeding.'

  She concentrated on the sky. 'Yes.' She'd never even noticed that the sun had disappeared behind ominous clouds and that a few errant snowflakes had begun to fall. Embarrassment and disappointment warred within her. She'd wanted Clay to make love to her. Even worse, as unsuitable as the time and place were, she still wanted that. At least, her body did.

  Clay help her brush the snow from her clothing before she climbed into the truck. When she reached over to close the door, he held it open and gave her a wry look. 'You are abominable. And without shame.'

  Dallas felt the heat rush to her cheeks. 'You started it.'

  'You weren't exactly fighting me off. In another minute I'd have ripped off our clothes and we'd have got frost-bite in places we could never explain.' Back in the driver's seat, he added, 'On the other hand, we might have melted the snow.'

  There was no safe answer, but Clay didn't seem to expect one. Leaving that pasture and heading to the next, he seemed content having had the last word. The inside of the truck was too warm after their exertions out in the weather. Dallas pulled the heavy knit cap from her head and shook loose her hair as Clay came to a stop in the middle of a field.

  Resting his arm on the steering-wheel, he turned to her. 'Game to try again?'

  'Try what?' she asked warily.

  'Feeding the cows. I'll make a cowhand out of you yet.'

  'Don't count on it.' Dallas was tired of feeling that she came up short out here in the west. 'Everything I do here is wrong. You should have married Mercedes. She could probably feed cows with one hand tied behind her back.'

  'She probably could, but Mercedes can't stand cows.' His voice was amused. 'Her dad ranches near by and, like Kyle, she couldn't get away from the ranch quickly enough. I suppose Alanna told you. Not that it's any secret. Mercedes dumped me when Kyle returned home. She was wild for him from the time she entered high school.' Reaching across her, he opened her door. 'Hop out before we're overrun by hungry cattle.'

  Dallas paused with her hand on the door. 'And so when Kyle died, you asked me to marry you instead of asking Mercedes.'

  Clay gave her a mocking look. 'Spurning the woman who spurned me for the sake of revenge? What I needed was a mother for Nicky, and Mercedes never struck me as the maternal type.'

  'But you were once engaged to marry her.'

  Clay unleashed a slow grin that scorched Dallas clear across the seat. 'I wasn't thinking of her maternal assets when we discussed marriage.' His next question made clear the subject was closed. 'Still have the knife for cutting the twine?'

  Dallas fumbled around in her pockets before successfully locating the small knife. 'Give me a minute before you honk so I'm not attacked by hungry cows.'

  Clay laughed. 'Take a look. Most came running the minute they heard the truck.'

  Dallas mentally groaned at the sight of the cows milling about before she scrambled from the truck. She absolutely would not let Clay know how nervous the huge beasts made her. At least this group didn't have horns. Safe in the bed of the truck, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  'Try and stay closer to the centre of the stack this time,' Clay yelled out of the window. 'You keep falling out and enticing me into the snow, I'll never get my work done.' Before Dallas could reply, he whipped his head back in the window and drove slowly in a large circle around the pasture, honking the horn a couple of times.

  Dallas dutifully tossed the hay to the cows following them. She was winded and ready to stop when he finally brought the pick-up to a halt. Clay jumped from the cab of the pick-up, a frown on his face. 'What's the matter?' she asked.

  'That cow up there. Must be some reason why she didn't come down to feed.' Clay started up the incline, his long stride eating up the distance. Dallas struggled to keep up with him, taking two running steps to each one of his, but he quickly outdistanced her.

  When Dallas, breathing painfully in the thin, icy air, reached him, he was on his knees beside the cow. She looked down. 'A baby. Is he dead?'

  'Close. He was born too early. It was cold last night and this little fellow is soaked. Doesn't look like his mama was able to get him up to lick him dry.' Clay stood up, hefting the calf in his arms. 'Let's get him back to the barn.'

  The cow and Dallas both followed Clay anxiously as he strode back to the truck. 'Can I help?' Dallas asked.

  'If you could run on ahead to the truck and spread a little hay in the back, I'll put him on that.'

  Dallas quickly did as Clay asked. 'Poor fellow,' she crooned, as Clay grabbed a blanket from the front and tossed it over the calf. The mother mooed in distress.

  Clay patted the cow absently. 'Would you mind riding back here?' he asked Dallas. 'I don't think he has enough life left in him to try and jump out, but no sense taking any chances.'

  The trip back to the barn seemed to take forever. Dallas petted the calf and reassured him over and over again that Clay would take care of him.

  Clay drove the pick-up right up to the barn doors. 'Run up to the house and tell Sara we need some warm milk.'

  Dallas rushed to do his bidding. Back at the barn with a bottle of milk,
she found Clay had wiped down the calf and laid him on some straw. He was fixing a heat lamp over the shivering animal. 'Let's see if we can get him to drink,' he said.

  Dallas held the bottle to the calf's mouth, but the animal was too weak to suck. Clay dropped to his knees and poured milk on his fingers. He thrust them in the animal's mouth. There was no response. He tried again.

  'It looked like he swallowed,' Dallas said.

  'I think you're right. Here.' He handed her the bottle. 'You keep trying for a little longer. Then let him sleep while you go in and clean up. I'll keep an eye on him. And, Dallas,' his hand rested on her shoulder, 'don't count too much on this little fellow making it. He's pretty far gone.'

  'He'll make it. I know he will. Look, he swallowed again.'

  Clay gave her shoulder a squeeze and left her alone with the calf. Determined to save the animal, Dallas wet her fingers again and again with the milk and forced them into the calf's mouth. Finally his eyes closed and he refused to swallow any more. Dallas caught her breath. Then she saw the sides of the small animal move rhythmically in and out. He was sleeping.

  Her legs ached from kneeling on the hard floor, and she leaned back against the wooden stall and stretched her legs out in front of her. The barn seemed huge and empty around her, but then she heard a rustling sound. Mice. Giving credence to her supposition, a large tabby cat crept past the opening to the stall, ignoring her as he went about his deadly business. Male voices came from outside, too far away for the words to be distinguished. From further down the row came a stamping of feet. Another cow or a horse. Dallas was too tired to look.

  She took a deep breath—a mistake. The barn's odour was all too intense for a city girl. She ought to go and bathe. Her hands were sticky with milk and her hair… between the snug-fitting knit cap and lying in the snow… and other things… it was probably a tangled mess.

  She looked down at the calf lying at her side. Dealing with the animal, Clay's hands had been deft, yet gentle. It had come so natural to him to attempt to soothe the distressed mother that he hadn't even been aware of petting her. Dallas recalled the little smile on Clay's face when the calf had first swallowed.