by Carol Finch
Swearing under his breath, he swooped down to haul Boston to her feet. Then he guided her deeper into the underbrush so they could make themselves presentable and pretend all they had been doing was herding her Herefords from the grove of trees.
“I did not order my men to show up here to embarrass you and put you in a compromising position, Boston,” he felt compelled to tell her before she got the wrong idea. “Just so you know, I’m aching for you like crazy. This is pure torment. An interruption is the very last thing I wanted.”
She smiled shakily as she rearranged her clothing and plucked leaves and grass from her hair.
Turning his attention to the Herefords, Quin picked up a fallen branch to tap one heifer on the rump, as he’d seen Boston do in her corral. The others fell into step behind the lead heifer to exit the trees and underbrush.
By the time Skeeter, Ezra and another hired hand named Otha Hadley arrived, the Herefords were walking west toward the gate, while Boston spoke softly to them.
“Everything okay, boss?” Ezra asked, then nodded a polite greeting to Boston.
“No, there are suspicious goings-on,” Quin replied as he mounted Cactus. “A dozen of my cattle are carrying Boston’s brand and a half-dozen of her Herefords are on the wrong side of the fence.” He stared hard at his men. “Any of you know anything about how that might have happened?”
Skeeter thrust back his shoulders, offended. “No, boss. You know I ride for your brand. Always have. I’m not the one who ran out on you. Maybe you should ask Rocky about that.”
Boston took exception. “I can assure you that Rocky Rhodes had nothing whatsoever to do with this.” She pulled herself onto the dapple-gray thoroughbred. “I hired him because his reputation is impeccable.”
“Was. Not so sure about that now,” Ezra mumbled, then sent her an accusing glance. “A man’s head can be turned by a pretty face and come-hither smiles.”
“That’s enough.” Quin glared at the lanky cowboy. “Apologize to the lady, Ez.”
“Sorry,” he grumbled without looking up. “Don’t know what came over me.”
“Boston and I will put her cattle where they belong. I’ll see you back at the barn later,” Quin said dismissively.
After the men rode off, Quin berated himself for risking Boston’s reputation for what might have been a tumble in the grass—with an audience of cowboys. Apparently, the self-control he’d spent thirty-three years perfecting wasn’t as ironclad as he thought. Either that or he had a chink in his armor that went by the name of Adrianna McKnight.
“I’m sorry for accusing you of rustling,” she murmured as she herded her cattle toward the gate.
“Same goes for me…and I’m sorry about—”
“Don’t apologize for something that was as much my fault as it was yours,” she interrupted. “I hope to see you at Rosa and Lucas’s wedding celebration, Cahill.”
When she rode off, leaving him to drive his re branded cattle to the corral, Quin expelled an audible sigh. He decided he needed to swing by Triple Creek for a cold soaking before he headed home. Otherwise, he was going to reduce himself to a pile of frustrated coals. Even now the memory of lying with that green-eyed temptress burned him up—inside and out. Quin wondered if there was a cure for this insane craving for Boston.
“Yeah,” he muttered bleakly. “Being dead for a week should cure it.”
Chapter Five
Quin spent another long four days riding through various pastures, sorting off calves he planned to drive to Dodge City. More often than not, his thoughts strayed to the tantalizing tryst he’d almost had with Boston. The woman was getting to him, though he had told himself repeatedly that she represented the same attitude as his siblings who had ventured off to find a new life that didn’t include him.
Well, maybe it wasn’t so bad, he mused as he and his cowboys herded the calves to the corral for branding. Maybe he’d become too entrenched in ranch life to realize his siblings didn’t share their father’s dream or the same passion for the land. Maybe Quin had pushed them too hard, too fast.
For certain, he’d made several cutting remarks that he’d like to retract. In addition, he shouldn’t have tried to delegate ranch duties so soon after his parents’ funeral. Between the heart-wrenching tragedy and the natural friction between siblings, the situation had spiraled out of control and tempers had flared—to the extreme….
“Hey, boss, you need to have a look at this.”
Quin jerked to attention and twisted in the saddle to see Otha Hadley waving his hat in the air. Frowning warily, Quin reversed direction to see a skinned carcass concealed by tall grass. The hide was gone, along with meaty flesh.
“Someone butchered your calf, right here on the spot.” Otha pointed to the gunshot wound between the eyes. Then he glanced at Quin. “Surely that lady rancher wouldn’t do this.”
Quin was through blaming Boston for swiping and rebranding his cattle. “I think something else is going on here,” he murmured pensively. But damned if he could figure out what and who might be responsible.
Otha cut Quin a quick glance. “Rumors circling the bunkhouse say that lady rancher is trying to undermine your ranch ’cause you offered to buy her out and it made her mad.”
Quin gnashed his teeth. “Cowboys can be worse than old hens when it comes to spreading gossip.”
Otha removed his hat to rake his blunt-tipped fingers through the tuft of wiry red hair. “I reckon you’re right, boss. Half the boys blame the lady rancher and the others think the curse is at work again.”
Quin shot the bowlegged cowboy—who was five years his junior—a withering glance.
“Well, boss, you gotta admit that the thieving, butchering and fence cutting has picked up again. It was pretty bad before and after your folks died, God rest their souls. Then it tapered off awhile. Now it’s cranking up.”
Yes, it was, thought Quin. It had begun with Boston’s arrival. However, it wasn’t as if other ranchers in the area hadn’t suffered similar problems. Just not to the extent the 4C had. Then again, 4C covered more territory and pastured considerably more cattle and horses than the other spreads.
“Uh, boss, I was wondering about taking some time off this weekend for that city-wide celebration those foreigners are planning for Rosa and her ex–Ranger husband.”
Quin frowned pensively when Otha referred to Boston and her entourage as foreigners.
Otha shifted awkwardly in the saddle, then crammed his stained hat back on his red head. “Ya see, I met this real nice girl and—”
“Sure, you deserve a break after riding with me each time I’ve sorted calves,” Quin cut in, and then watched the cowboy’s freckled face turn a deeper shade of red. “Is this real nice girl anyone I know?”
His blush deepened. “Her daddy’s a tracklayer and she works at Monty’s Dance Hall. Don’t think she rightly belongs in that place but she says money is hard to come by so she smiles and dances with cowboys and soldiers for a fee.”
Quin hoped the woman in question wasn’t feeding Otha the same line she fed other customers. The cowboy didn’t need his heart broken. Of course, Quin wasn’t sure what that felt like because the 4C had consumed his life for as long as he could remember. His liaisons were infrequent and impersonal. The occasional scratching of an itch, so to speak.
He knew his brother Bowie had had his heart broken once by Clea North. Quin grimaced, remembering his snide comment about Bowie’s rejection. Salt to a wound, he mused regretfully. Quin had struck out when Bowie had landed on a sensitive nerve about his delay in arriving home to help his parents tend to the business of signing contracts with the railroad.
“I’m thinking about asking Zoe Daniels to marry me,” Otha commented as he reined toward 4C headquarters. “There’s that cabin up north that once belonged to the previous English owners of the property you bought last year.” Otha stared hopefully at Quin. “I wondered if we might rent the place. I could keep a watchful eye on your northern pastures si
nce I’d be riding home in that direction every night.”
Quin nodded. “It might be nice to have a full-time hand keeping up with those far-removed pastures. But the place needs some repair, Otha.”
The cowboy beamed excitedly. “I know ’cause I looked it over pretty good the last time we rode through there. But I can make the repairs myself.”
Quin leaned out to shake Otha’s hand. “Then we have a deal. I’ll pay for the materials for repair if you do the work in your spare time. I hope things work out for you and Zoe.”
Otha smiled so widely he nearly split a lip as Quin turned his attention back to the butchered calf. Someone was preying on 4C and other spreads in the area and Quin would dearly like to know who was behind the rustling, butchering and rebranding of his cattle.
Exhausted from long days of hard work and extensive hours in the saddle, Quin glanced south. He was anxious for a soaking bath and one of Elda Quickel’s gourmet meals. Not that the chuckwagon cook didn’t do his best, but the older man’s fare couldn’t compare to Elda’s. Quin could almost taste the cook’s delicious baked bread from here.
Adrianna waved to Elda, who was making her second visit since she had moved into the 4C ranch house.
“I brought cookies,” Elda announced as she bustled up the steps, with the handle of her basket draped over her elbow. She halted to admire the gleaming woodwork and recently polished floors. “My, Bea has this place shining, doesn’t she? Knew she would.”
“How are things at 4C?” Adrianna asked as she grabbed a couple of melt-in-your-mouth cookies.
“Quiet.” Elda held out the basket for Bea and Butler, who showed up the moment they heard her voice. “It’s sad, really.” She plopped down on the parlor sofa. “That man left everything as it was before his parents died. Why, he didn’t even move into the master suite, and you can tell that not one stick of furniture has changed position in the office or parlor. It’s like a monument to the past.”
Adrianna frowned thoughtfully. Why hadn’t Quin moved on with his life and made the ranch house a reflection of his own tastes? She, on the other hand, had sold the mansion in Boston and only kept the country estate that held fond childhood memories of a life similar to what she experienced now. She had chased new dreams and adventure while Quin Cahill remained entrenched in the past. Maybe being intolerant of change was who he was. Why else would he live in his parents’ shadow and allow their dreams to become his?
It dawned on her that they were alike but in different ways—if that made sense. Cahill kept his father’s dream alive, as if he were the extension of his will. Adrianna wanted to prove she was as capable as her father was.
“You should see the other four bedroom suites.” Elda paused to munch on a cookie. “They must look exactly like they did when his brothers and sister moved out two years ago.” She leaned close and said, “But Quin didn’t confide what caused the rift. He did say he planned to leave things as they are. Maybe forever. Who knows?”
“He told me that his siblings had no intention of running the ranch and they wanted to make their own lives, make their own choices after their parents were gone,” Adrianna said.
Butler smirked. “So that’s why he didn’t approve of you pulling up stakes and moving to Texas. You did exactly what his family did and he didn’t like it.”
Adrianna nodded, then grabbed another tasty cookie while the older threesome chitchatted companionably. Leaving them to their reunion, she wandered outside to consult Rocky. After Elda left, she went upstairs to put away the laundry Bea had washed. She gasped in alarm when she noticed a plume of smoke rising in the distance. It looked as if it was coming from the 4C, perhaps near the grove of trees and underbrush where she had located her missing Herefords—and found herself about to succumb to her secret desires for Quin.
Lurching around, Adrianna bounded down the staircase to alert Bea and Butler. Then she dashed outside to round up her hired hands to help her smother the fire. And blast it, she hoped Quin didn’t believe she was responsible for this latest mischief. Especially not after that steamy incident in the grove of trees. He’d likely think she had tried to lure him in, soften him up, then strike out in another spiteful retaliation.
“Fire!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.
Men darted from the corrals, barn and bunkhouse to see her pointing northeast. Adrianna grabbed the nearest saddle horse and a gunnysack that Rocky tossed to her. She raced across the pasture at breakneck speed. By the time she and her men opened the adjoining gate and headed north, six 4C ranch hands galloped over the rolling hill toward them.
She became the recipient of six accusatory glares. No doubt, gossip in the bunkhouse blamed her for the woes on 4C. Conversely, her employees thought Quin and his men were responsible for stealing her Herefords the previous week.
“You sure we should be helping Cahill?” Chester Purvis asked as he trotted his horse beside her. “He probably thinks you started this fire to get even for swiping your heifers.”
She frowned in annoyance when several other cowboys nodded in agreement with Ches. “We are not starting some silly range war over incidents likely instigated by outlaws and rustlers,” she declared sharply. “Is that clear?”
“Okay, but if you ask me, it’s the Cahill Curse at work again.”
Adrianna jerked up her head and glared at the scruffy, slow-talking cowboy—Pokey O’Reilly was his name—who had spouted the comment. “I am not the superstitious sort and I don’t expect any of my employees to be, either. If you want to believe in voodoo nonsense, then collect your wages and leave.”
That shut them up in a hurry, thank goodness. Adrianna doubted she had changed anyone’s opinion but she didn’t have to listen to such foolishness. She suspected someone was preying on the 4C because it was so large and it was impossible to oversee so many thousands of acres. Plus, someone wanted to lay the blame on her, the newcomer. Why her reputation and respectability was being sabotaged, she didn’t know. She wasn’t sure how to find out, either.
She discarded the troubling thought and hightailed it across the pasture to reach the site of the grass fire. Thankfully, there wasn’t enough wind to engulf all the trees. In addition, the area was nearby Triple Creek so they could soak their gunnysacks with water, then pound out the flames.
Adrianna was hard at work smothering the fire when she glanced sideways to see Quin racing beside a hundred head of longhorn calves that he’d herded from his northern pastures. His narrowed gaze landed on her and she thrust out her chin, daring him to point an accusing finger.
She noticed that every cowboy on hand glanced between her and Quin, waiting to see if a shouting match broke out. She decided to turn rumor of their supposed feud on its ear. When Quin dismounted, she walked up to him, pushed up on tiptoe and placed a kiss right smack-dab on his lips.
There, thought she. That should quell any rumors of a hostile feud between them. “We came as soon as we saw the fire, Quin,” she said loudly.
She met those silver-gray eyes that were fringed with thick black lashes and she saw a faint smile crease his lips. Despite the heavy five-o’clock shadow that rimmed his jaw, he looked irresistibly attractive. Of course, she’d realized how vulnerable she’d become to the man several days ago—which is why they had ended up tumbling around in the grass and she’d been unable to keep her hands off him.
“Thanks, Boston. We appreciate your help.”
He dropped a quick kiss to her lips, grabbed the gunny sack from her hand, then jogged off to beat down the flames. She fell into step behind him to toss aside the potential kindling of fallen branches. They worked tirelessly side by side for an hour to ensure the embers had cooled so flames wouldn’t erupt later to destroy the shadowy grove the cattle favored to beat the blistering summer heat.
“I’m grateful for the extra help!” Quin called to Adrianna’s cowboys. “If you have an emergency, my men and I will gladly return the favor.” He glanced around the area. “I just hope this grass fire i
sn’t a diversion for other destructive activities, like the butchered calf we found on my north pasture.”
Adrianna blinked in surprise while the cowboys mumbled in speculation about who’d done the deed.
“I also noticed the adjoining fence had been cut a mile north of here. No doubt, a gang of rustlers is preying on our area, so everyone on both sides of the fence will have to remain on guard. I don’t want to lose men or cattle to bloodthirsty thieves.”
He cupped Adrianna’s elbow to usher her toward her saddle horse. “Come on, Boston, let’s check another stretch of fence to make sure no one has been up to more mischief.”
While Rocky Rhodes led Boston’s employees back to her ranch, Quin asked his fire volunteers to drive the cattle he’d collected to the corrals for branding.
When they were alone, Quin scooped her up in his arms, set her on her mount, then asked, “What was that unexpected kiss about, Boston?”
“You’re an intelligent man, figure it out, Cahill.”
He nodded his shaggy head, then reminded himself he was in need of a haircut. He wondered if Elda was as handy with scissors as she was with spoons and spatulas. Otherwise, he’d have to ride into town to seek out the barber.
“I suppose you thought you were quelling gossip about your involvement in my suspicious fire,” he said as he stuffed his foot in the stirrup and swung onto Cactus’s back.
She scraped a recalcitrant strand of chestnut hair away from her sooty face and Quin battled the urge to lean over and kiss her again. But he was reluctant to become as sappy as Otha Hadley—who had visions of happily-ever-after with Zoe Daniels dancing in his head. Boston made it clear on several occasions that she didn’t trust the motives of men.
Not that he blamed her for being a cynical heiress, mind you. He’d had his share of manipulative fathers and mothers shoving their eligible daughters under his nose because the Cahills had money, influence and property. You never knew who was sincere and who had dollar signs in his eyes when money was involved. As for Boston, she was on a crusade to establish her independence and prove her ability to run a ranch. She resented a man telling her what to do.
