Cowboy Accomplice

by B. J Daniels

  They moved slowly through the thick green canopy of pines in companionable silence, the sound of the creek growing louder and louder.

  WATER. Regina could hear the rush of it, smell it in the air. She practically ran when, through the trees, she spotted the stream pooling in the rocks.

  She heard McCall chuckle next to her. Her excitement at even the prospect of a bath must show. She hadn’t even tried to talk to him about the commercial on their walk through the woods. True, she was almost too tired to argue about it.

  “There’s a nice pool the right depth through there,” he said when they reached the river. “I’ll wait for you over here. Do you know how to sing?”

  The question took her by surprise. “What?”

  “Sing. If you sing, I promise not to look. That way I’ll know you’re all right.”

  He actually looked serious.

  She nodded, more intent on the bath than anything else. If she had to sing, she’d sing. She limped toward the spot where he’d indicated and began to sing, “My home’s in Montana, I wear a bandana, my spurs are of silver, my pony is gray.” Those were the only words she knew. She hummed loudly, turning to see what he was doing.

  He had sat down under a large pine, arms folded, his back against the trunk, his hat over his eyes.

  She stripped down, the retreating sun warm on her back. She knew the water would be cold.

  She kept humming, wavering only a little when she stuck her foot in the water and felt how cold it was. Wading out into the water to where a circle of rocks formed a deep pool in the stream, she lowered herself in slowly.

  It wasn’t bad once you were all in. She breathed in the damp, pine-scented air and dunked below the surface to wet her hair.

  J.T. PUSHED BACK his hat at the sound of the sudden silence. He sat up and looked toward the pool.

  She surfaced just then, coming up in a shower of water, her hair a dark wave, her back slim and pale.

  “Hum,” he called to her and leaned back, pulling the hat down over his eyes.

  This had been a terrible idea, he thought, listening to her hum, sounding happy. After that one glimpse he could imagine her sudsing her hair, chest deep in the creek.

  The ache he felt surprised him. It was pure sexual. Hell, he was a normal, red-blooded male. But the desire to protect her was even stronger.

  “Stopping humming to rinse hair,” she called.

  He counted to ten and was getting nervous, when he heard a splash. He waited for her to hum. Hum, dammit, woman.

  “My home’s in Montana,” she sang and he realized she was closer than she’d been. She was no longer in the creek, but standing on the rocks directly in front of him.

  He didn’t dare move, listening as she sang softly, her voice growing nearer and nearer until he could smell her clean scent. Her damp hair brushed across his hand resting on his knee.

  Still he didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

  He felt her fingers on the brim of his hat, felt her shove back the brim.

  He opened his eyes.

  She had knelt down, and was leaning toward him so her hair hung down on each side of her face.

  Her gaze was on his, bluer than his own eyes.

  He let out the breath he’d been holding slowly, still not moving.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He let himself smile. “You’re welcome,” he whispered, afraid she would kiss him, afraid she wouldn’t.

  He sat up, determined not to let her distract him again. He had to have answers. Especially after the noose he’d found in the woods today.

  “Reggie, I need you to be honest with me.”

  She leaned back, looking disappointed that he hadn’t kissed her again.

  “I have been honest—”

  “Listen to me. We’re a long way from the ranch, even farther from town, we don’t have a way to get out of here except on horseback because the truck won’t run.” He paused, his gaze holding hers. “This is very dangerous, Regina.”

  Regina? She could hear the fear in his voice. It echoed in her chest and she had the feeling that something else had happened. “I thought Buck was bringing a truck back?”

  His gaze bored into hers. “I’m afraid something has happened to him.”

  She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes at the thought. She liked Buck. He’d been kind to her. If something really had happened to him, it was her fault. He would never have left the mountain alone except for her. She felt sick.

  “Regina, if you know what’s going on here, I need you to tell me now,” he said quietly.

  She realized she liked it better when he called her Reggie. “You think I had something to do with Buck’s disappearance, too?” She shook her head. “How is that possible?”

  “You tell me. Is this really about a TV commercial?”

  “Yes. What else?”

  “That’s what I was hoping you would tell me.” Clearly he didn’t believe a word she said. “Who did you meet in the woods last night?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “I saw you meet someone in the trees outside the cabin last night,” he said, sounding angry. “I heard you talking to him.”

  She was shaking her head. “Last night?” She remembered the only time she’d ventured past the porch. “I went to the bathroom.”

  “The outhouse is back the other way.”

  She felt her cheeks warm. “The outhouse was too far away. I went into the trees.”

  “Who were you talking to?”

  She stared at him. “No one.”

  “I heard you.”

  She thought for a moment, remembering walking around out there barefooted, stepping on prickly pine needles and twigs, muttering to herself…. “I was talking to myself.”

  “You weren’t talking to Luke?”

  “Luke?” she echoed. “I wasn’t talking to Luke or anyone else.”

  He glanced toward the creek. “Did you happen to go in the men’s tent for any reason?”

  She couldn’t believe this questioning. “No. Why would I?”

  “I don’t know. Someone ransacked the tent.”

  She stared at him in shock. First someone fixed the truck so it wouldn’t run and now someone went through the cowhands’ tent? Worse, J.T. was acting as if he didn’t believe that Luke just quit without notice and rode out of camp before anyone else got up.

  “You’re worried because his horse came back,” she said.

  He nodded. “I found his saddle, tack and gear in the box at the back of the cabin. I think he just wanted us to believe he left. Or someone else did.”

  She stared at him. “Why would anyone do that?”

  He shook his head.

  “If something is going on here, it has nothing to do with me,” she said, wishing he would believe that.

  “All you want from me is a TV commercial?” he said.

  She hesitated only a moment. “That’s it.”

  J.T. had seen her hesitate. She wanted something else but he still didn’t think it had anything to do with his cattle or this roundup. The way she was looking at him… “You promised you’d be honest. You want something else from me. What is it?”

  “I want to learn to ride a horse.”

  “What?”

  “I want to learn to ride a horse.”

  “I thought you were afraid of horses?”

  She nodded, rocking back a little on her heels as she flashed him a knock-you-to-your-knees smile. “I was but after riding with you, I’ve changed my mind.”

  “If this is some new plot—”

  “Isn’t it possible that I might want to learn to ride a horse and it has nothing to do with the commercial?”

  “No.” He felt a chill. Dark shadows pooled under the pines, the sun gone. “We need to get back to camp and start supper.”

  Her disappointment was so acute and so clear in her face that he almost weakened. Rising, he helped her to her feet, wrapped one of her arms around his waist as he helped her b
ack to the cabin.

  “I think you underestimate me,” she said as they neared the porch.

  He hoped not. “You can take riding lessons when you get back to L.A.,” he said, realizing that he liked thinking of her as a city girl who didn’t fit in here, could never fit in here. It distanced him from her and he wanted that distance between them. She was a city girl and she didn’t fit in here. It was that simple. And even if she did learn to ride, what would that change? Nothing.

  “But what would be the point once you’re back in L.A.?” he added.

  “I watched you ride and I want to be able to feel that confident in the saddle,” she said seeming to ignore his jibe.

  He could tell she was still afraid of horses. Why the sudden interest in learning to ride? “I’ve been riding a horse since I was a toddler,” he said, waiting for her to bring up the commercial. That was where she was going with this, wasn’t it?

  But she didn’t.

  Nothing about this woman should surprise him and yet it did.

  “I could start learning to ride here in Montana and then continue with classes in Los Angeles.”

  “Do they have horses in California, let alone enough open space to ride them?” he asked facetiously as he wove his way through the pines.

  “Have you ever been to California?”

  “I’ve never felt the need to leave Montana.”

  “Well, you might want to someday,” she said smoothly.

  He didn’t have to look to know she was arching one brow. He could feel the heat of her look and hear the invitation in her voice as clearly as if it had been engraved and hand delivered. And he cursed himself silently for kissing her earlier. Who knew what he’d gotten this woman thinking now.

  “In the meantime, would you teach me to ride?” she asked.

  “What?” He knew he must sound like a moron but keeping up with this woman was giving him whiplash. Would he teach her to ride? He helped her up on the porch and looked into her face. Her eyes were that deep bottomless blue he was so fond of. “Hell, no. What do I look like? An equestrian center?” But even as he said it, he realized it wasn’t such a bad idea. She might have to ride out of here. And soon.

  What would he do if Buck didn’t return? He shoved the thought away. He knew Buck. If there was any way in hell, the old foreman would be back.

  “Did you forget that I have six hundred head of cattle to round up and get out of these mountains before the snow falls?” he demanded.

  “Sorry, I just thought when you weren’t rounding up cows…”

  “I need to get dinner going,” he said over his shoulder. “The men will be coming in hungry.”

  She still didn’t say anything as she went inside. He heard the rattle of pots and pans as he gathered an armload of firewood.

  He could hear the lo of the cattle just over the hill and knew the men wouldn’t be far behind. He just hoped to hell no more of them went missing. He wondered which one had hidden the gun in the tent fold. More important, why.

  REGGIE LOOKED UP as J.T. came through the door. She had a fire going in the woodstove and was peeling potatoes. He looked worried. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He shook his head and took the peeler from her and showed her how to use it correctly.

  “Thanks,” she said. It worked much better the way it was supposed to be used.

  He sat down at the table across from her and leaned toward her before glancing toward the lower bunk bed. “You have some sort of identification with you?”

  She told herself she shouldn’t be surprised. But it bothered her that he didn’t trust her. Okay, maybe she could understand his lack of faith, all things considered. But since when did going after what you wanted automatically make you a liar and a thief and whatever else he thought of her?

  She got up and went to the bunk, found her red leather purse in her suitcase and took out her wallet. She handed it to him without opening it.

  He held the wallet in his hand for a moment, his eyes on her. She stood, feeling like a child before the principal as he slowly unzipped the small leather wallet. She watched him flip through it, stop on her California driver’s license, then continue flipping through the plastic photo holders.

  She felt as if he were going through her underwear drawer. Her whole life was in that wallet.

  “You work for Way Out West Jeans,” he said. “You never told me the company’s name.”

  “You never gave me the chance.”

  He was still holding the wallet. “Who is this?”

  She stepped closer to glance at the photograph of an attractive woman standing next to an amazingly handsome man. The photo was old, the edges worn and wrinkled. “My mother and father.”

  “Nice-looking people.”

  “My dad died when I was two. I was raised by my mother and grandmother.” Why had she told him that?

  “I’m sorry.” He flipped back to her other photographs, glancing from each then to her as if he was looking for a resemblance.

  “Friends,” she said and reached for the wallet. “I was an only child.”

  He looked embarrassed for going through her things as he handed back the wallet. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about the jeans.”

  She turned and went back to the bed to put her wallet away. He hadn’t moved. She could practically hear him struggling to come up with something to say to her. No matter what he thought, she hadn’t really lied to get this job, but she could see where he might think she had.

  “I talked Buck into giving me the cook job and led him to believe I could cook, but I had nothing to do with the truck not running or anything else,” she said as she looked over her shoulder at him.

  He had turned and was taking a package of meat from the cooler.

  She stared at his broad back realizing what he thought of her. That she was a cold-blooded bitch who used people to get what she wanted no matter the cost. Why should she care what he thought of her? Tears stung her eyes.

  Worse, his opinion of her hit a little too close to home. “You have no idea how competitive the jeans market is or what it’s like being a woman in that world.”

  He said nothing as he put the potatoes she’d peeled on to boil.

  “This advertising campaign means everything,” she said, surprised she was close to crying.

  He turned then to look at her. “Everything?”

  She swallowed. “It’s critical to the future of the company and to my future.” She stopped as she realized how desperate she sounded. “I thought a man like you could understand working hard for something you believe in.”

  “A man like me? You don’t know me at all if you think I would use any means to get what I wanted,” he snapped.

  “I’ve had to work hard for everything I’ve ever gotten. You, McCall, know nothing about me or my life or what I’ve been through to get to where I—”

  A tree limb brushed against the window. They both turned at the sound. Outside the wind had come up. Pine boughs now swayed. One thumped softly against the window.

  J.T. went back to his cooking. She turned away and wiped hastily at her tears, angry with herself for crying, angry at him for thinking so little of her.

  He was wrong. She did know who he was. Not just the eldest son of Asa McCall and the man who ran the Sundown Ranch. She’d seen his kindness, his compassion, his strength and his determination. She’d seen how the men respected him. He inspired loyalty. The man could even cook.

  She’d spent the years since college creating the Wild West to sell jeans. But now that she was in the Wild West, she saw that it was nothing like she’d thought. She’d fantasized about a cowboy’s life for her jeans. But J. T. McCall was nothing like it and now she found herself fantasizing about the man.

  She wanted to know this man better and it didn’t have anything to do with the kiss earlier. Well, hardly anything.

  But she also realized that by going after what she wanted—J. T. McCall’s backside—she might have jeopardize
d his cattle roundup, not to mention ruined any chance of getting him for the commercial and made a lasting bad impression on him. She might also be responsible for whatever had happened to Buck.

  She wanted a chance to make things right and gain J.T.’s respect, to show him she wasn’t as inept as he thought she was. If she hoped to win his respect she’d have to show him that she could survive in his world and that meant being able to ride a horse. The mere thought terrified her. The only thing she had loved about being on his horse had been having J.T. behind her holding her. She tried not to think about riding alone, without J.T. not only behind her, but not even holding the reins.

  J.T. would teach her to ride, she was pretty sure of that, and she was a quick study.

  Of course, once she could ride a horse, he would send her down the mountain and she would lose any chance—as if she hadn’t already—of changing his mind about the commercial.

  But she had to prove to him that he was wrong about her. She would overcome her fears. Even if it killed her.

  J.T. STUDIED each cowhand as he came into the cabin for supper.

  Nevada Black stormed in first. “Someone ransacked our tent.” He sounded angry as he took his chair.

  J.T. nodded. “It was like that when I got back.” He sat down at the table and began to pass the platters of food around. “Any idea what they were looking for?”

  Nevada looked surprised by the question. “I guess that would depend on what was in the tent.” He glanced at the other men.

  Will Jarvis didn’t even bother to look up. Roy glanced at J.T., then took the bowl of potatoes and began to dish up his plate. Slim and Cotton exchanged shrugs.

  “Was there anything of value left in the tent?” J.T. asked and watched for a reaction. After his trip to the creek with Reggie, he’d hidden the 9 mm pistol in the cabin.

  All the men shook their heads as they served their plates and began eating.

  He’d hoped that one of them would admit to hiding the gun in the tent. The fact that no one did made him all the more worried that the danger was coming from inside not outside the camp.

  “I asked you to keep in sight of each other,” he said, but could see before anyone said anything that there had been times when the men had lost sight of each other. He could almost feel the suspicion, which alone could drive a wedge between the men and make matters worse. If that were possible.