Hazard Ranch

by Joan Johnston

  It would be too easy to stop resisting Nathan Hazard’s interference in her business. Harry reminded herself that Nathan didn’t really want her to succeed; he wanted Cyrus’s land. And he wanted to take care of her, as one would care for someone incapable of taking care of herself. Letting Nathan Hazard into her life right now would be disastrous. Because Harry didn’t want any more people taking care of her. She wanted to prove she could take care of herself.

  Harry had another motive for wanting to keep Nathan at a distance. Whenever he was around she succumbed to the attraction she felt for him. At a time when she was trying to take control of her life, the feelings she had for Nathan Hazard were uncontrollable. She wanted to touch him and have him touch her, to kiss him and be kissed back with all the passion she felt whenever he held her in his arms, to share with him and to have him share the feelings she was hard put to name, but couldn’t deny. Those powerful emotions left her feeling threatened in a way she couldn’t explain. It was far better, Harry decided, to keep the man at a distance.

  The next time Nathan Hazard came calling, if there was a next time, he wouldn’t be welcome.

  * * *

  Harry woke the next day to the clang of metal on metal. She bolted upright in bed, then sat unmoving while she tried to place the sound. She couldn’t, and quickly pulled on a heavy flannel robe and stepped into ice-cold slippers as she headed for the window to look outside. Her jaw dropped at what she saw. Nathan Hazard stood bare-chested, wrench in hand, working on the engine of Cyrus’s farm tractor.

  Her first thought was, He must be freezing to death! Then she looked at the angle of the sun and realized it had to be nearly midday and would be much warmer outside than in the cabin, which held the cold. How had she slept so long? The lambs usually woke her at dawn to be fed. She hurried to the kitchen, and they were all there—sleeping peacefully. A quick glance at the kitchen counter revealed several empty nippled Coke bottles. Nathan Hazard had been inside her house this morning. He’d fed her lambs!

  Harry felt outraged at Nathan’s presumption. And then she had another, even more disturbing thought. Had he come into her bedroom? Had he seen her sleeping? She blushed at the thought of what she must have looked like. She’d worn only a plain white torn T-shirt to sleep in Cyrus’s sleigh bed. Harry was disgusted with herself when she realized that what upset her most was the thought that she couldn’t have looked very attractive.

  It took three shakes of a lamb’s tail for Harry to dress in jeans, blue work shirt and boots. She stomped all the way from her kitchen door to the barn, where the tractor stood. Nathan had to hear her coming, but he never moved from his stance, bent over concentrating on some part of the tractor’s innards.

  “Good morning,” she snarled.

  Slowly, as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world for him to be working on her tractor, he straightened. “Good afternoon,” he corrected.

  Harry caught her breath at the sight of him. She didn’t see the whole man, just perceptions of him. A bead of sweat slid slowly down the crease in his muscular chest to dampen the waist of his jeans. Only the waist wasn’t at his waist. His jeans had slid down over his hips to reveal a navel and a line of downy blond hair that disappeared from sight under the denim. She didn’t see any sign of underwear. The placket over the zipper was worn white with age.

  When she realized where she was staring, Harry jerked her head up to look at his face and noticed that a stubble of beard shadowed his jaws and chin. Hanks of white-blond hair were tousled over his forehead. And his shockingly bright blue eyes were focused on her as though she were a lamb chop and he were a starving man.

  Harry’s mouth went dry. She slicked her tongue over her lips and saw the resulting spark of heat in Nathan’s gaze. His nostrils flared, and she felt her body tighten with anticipation.

  The hunter. Its prey.

  Only Harry had no intention of becoming a sacrificial lamb to this particular wolf.

  “Don’t you know how to knock?” she demanded.

  It might have seemed an odd question, but Nathan knew what she was asking. “I did knock. You didn’t answer. I was worried, so I came inside.”

  “And fed my lambs!” Harry said indignantly.

  “Yes. I fed them.”

  “Why didn’t you come wake me up?”

  Nathan had learned enough about Harry-et Alistair’s pride to know he couldn’t tell her the truth. She’d looked tired. More than tired, exhausted. He had figured she could use the sleep. So he’d fed her lambs. Was that so bad? Obviously Harry-et thought so.

  But her need for sleep wasn’t the only reason he hadn’t woken her. When Nathan had entered Harry-et’s bedroom, she was lying on her side, with one long, bare, elegantly slender leg curled up outside the blankets. The tiny bikini panties she’d been wearing had revealed a great expanse of hip, as well. Her long brown hair was spread across the pillow in abandon. One breast was pushed up by the arm she was lying on, and he’d seen a dark nipple through the thin cotton T-shirt she was wearing.

  Not that he’d looked on purpose. Or very long. In fact, once he’d realized the full extent of her dishevelment, he’d backed out of the room so fast he’d almost tripped over her work boots, which lay where they’d fallen when she’d taken them off the previous night.

  He’d wanted to wake her more than she’d ever know. He’d wanted to take her in his arms and feel her nipples against his bare chest. He’d wanted to wrap those long, luscious legs around himself and…No, she was damn lucky he hadn’t woken her. But he could never tell her that. Instead he said, “Anybody offered me another hour or two of sleep, I’d be grateful.”

  Harry sputtered, unable to think of an appropriate retort. She was grateful for the sleep. She just didn’t like the way she’d gotten it. “What are you doing to this tractor?”

  “Fixing it.”

  “I didn’t know it was broken.”

  “Neither did I until I tried starting it up.”

  “Why would you want to start it up?”

  Nathan leaned back over and began tinkering again, so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eye when he said, “So I could plow your fallow fields.”

  “So you could…” Harry was flabbergasted. “I thought you were too busy doing your own work to lend me a hand.”

  Nathan stood and leaned a hip against the tractor while he wiped his hands on his chambray work shirt. “I had a visit yesterday from a good friend of mine, Luke Granger. He was with an agent of the Fish and Wildlife Service, Abigail—”

  “They were here yesterday. So?”

  “Luke pointed out to me that I haven’t been a very good neighbor.”

  Harry felt her stomach churn. “What else did he have to say?”

  “That was enough, don’t you think?”

  Harry met Nathan’s solemn gaze and found it even more unsettling than the heat that had so recently been there.

  Nathan never took his eyes off her when he added, “I think maybe I’ve been a little pigheaded about helping you out. On the other hand, Harry-et, I can’t help thinking—”

  The blaring honk of a truck horn interrupted Nathan. A battered pickup was wending its way up the rutted dirt road.

  Harry recognized Luke Granger and Abigail Dayton. “I wonder what they’re doing back here today.”

  “I invited them.”

  Harry whirled to face Nathan. “You what?”

  “I called Luke this morning to see if he could spare a little time to do some repairs around here.” He took a look around the dilapidated buildings and added, “There’s plenty here for both of us to do.”

  “You all got together and figured I needed help, so here you are riding to the rescue like cowboys in white hats,” Harry said bitterly. “Damn. Oh, damn, damn, damn.” Harry fisted her hands and placed them on her hips to keep from hauling off and hitting Nathan. She clamped her teeth tight to keep her chin from quivering. She wanted to scream and rant and rave. And she was more than a little afraid s
he was going to cry.

  Nathan couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. In all the years he’d been offering help to others, the usual response had been a quick and ready acceptance of his assistance. This woman was totally different. She seemed to resent his support. He found her reaction bewildering. And not a little frustrating.

  He should have been glad she didn’t need his help. He should have been glad she didn’t need any caretaking. But he found himself wanting to help, needing to help. Her rejection hurt in ways he wasn’t willing to acknowledge.

  He turned and began working on the tractor again, keeping his hands busy to keep from grabbing Harry and kissing some sense into her.

  “Hello, there,” Luke said as he and Abigail approached the other couple.

  “Hello,” Harry muttered through clenched teeth. Her angry eyes remained on Nathan.

  Nathan never looked up. “I ran into a little problem, Luke. The tractor needs some work before I can do anything about those fallow fields.”

  “Anything I can do?” Luke asked Nathan.

  Harry whirled on him and said, “You can turn that truck around and drive right back out of here.”

  “We just want to help,” Abigail said quietly.

  “I don’t need your charity,” Harry cried in an anguished voice. “I don’t need—”

  Nathan suddenly dropped his wrench on the engine with a clatter and grabbed Harry by the arms, forcing her to face him. “That’ll be enough of that!”

  “Just who do you think you are?” Harry rasped. “I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t ask you to—”

  “I’m doing what a good neighbor should do.”

  “Right! Where was all this neighborliness when I had lambs dying because I didn’t know how to deliver them? Where was all this friendly help when I really needed it?”

  “You need it right now,” Nathan retorted, his grip tightening. “And I intend to give it to you.”

  “Over my dead body!” Harry shouted.

  “Be reasonable,” Nathan said in a voice that was losing its calm. “You need help.”

  “I don’t need it from you,” Harry replied stubbornly.

  “Maybe you’d let us help,” Abigail said, stepping forward to place a comforting hand on Harry’s arm.

  Harry’s shoulders suddenly slumped, all the fight gone out of her. Maybe she should just take their help. Maybe her parents had been right all along. She bit her quivering lower lip and closed her eyes to hold back the threatening tears.

  But some spark inside Harry refused to be quenched by the dose of reality she’d just suffered. She could give up and give in, as she had in the past. Or she could fight.

  Her shoulders came up again, and when her eyes opened, they focused on Nathan Hazard, flashing with defiance. “I want you off my property, Nathan Hazard. Now. I…” Her voice caught in an angry sob, but her jaw stiffened. “I have things to do inside. I expect you can see yourself off my land.”

  Harry turned and marched toward the tiny log house without a single look back to see if he had obeyed her command.

  CHAPTER 5

  What do you say when asked, “How’s it going?”

  Answer: “Oh, could be worse. Could be better.”

  Nathan spent the rest of the afternoon working outside with Luke, while Abigail worked in and around the barn with a still-seething Harry. Luke and Abigail left just before sundown, knowing Harry’s fallow fields were plowed and planted and that the pigpen gate, among other things, had been repaired. Nathan worked another quarter hour before admitting there wasn’t enough light to continue. He pulled on the chambray shirt he’d been using for an oil rag and headed toward the only light on in Cyrus’s log cabin.

  He knocked at Harry’s kitchen door, but didn’t wait for an answer before he pushed the screen door open and stepped inside. Harry was standing at the sink rinsing out Coke bottles. She turned when she saw him, grabbed a towel from the counter and wiped her hands dry. She stood backed up against the sink, waiting, wary.

  “I’m sorry.” Nathan hadn’t said those two words very often in his lifetime, and they stuck in his craw.

  It didn’t help when Harry retorted, “You should be!”

  “Now look here, Harry-et—”

  “No, you look here, Nathan,” she interrupted. “I thought I’d made it plain to you that I didn’t want your help. At least not the way you’re offering it. I wouldn’t mind so much if you wanted to teach me how to run this place. But you seem bound and determined to treat me like the worst sort of tenderfoot, which I am—a tenderfoot, I mean. But not the worst sort. Oh, this isn’t making any sense!”

  Harry was so upset that she gulped air, and she trembled as though she had the ague. Nathan took a step toward her, wanting to comfort her, but stopped when she stuck out a flat palm.

  “Wait. I’m not finished talking. I don’t know how to make it any plainer. I don’t want the sort of help you’re offering, Nathan.”

  Nathan opened his mouth to offer her the kind of help she was asking for and snapped it shut. Even if he taught her what she wanted to know, she would be hard-pressed to make a go of this place by herself. And if, by some miracle, she did succeed, he would only be stuck with another Alistair planted square in the middle of Hazard land.

  “All right, Harry-et,” he said, “I’ll stop trying to help.”

  Her shoulders sagged, and he wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Neither reaction pleased him. So he said, “I think maybe what we ought to do is call a truce.”

  “A truce?”

  “Yeah. You know, raise the white flag. Stop fighting. Call a halt to hostilities.” He tried a smile of encouragement. It wasn’t his best, but apparently it was good enough, because she smiled back.

  “All right,” she agreed. “Shall we shake on it?”

  She stuck her hand out and, like a fool, he took it. And suffered the consequences. Touching her was like shooting off fireworks on the Fourth of July. He liked what he felt. Too much. So he dropped her hand and turned to leave.

  Before he even got to the door he had turned back—he didn’t have the faintest idea why—and caught her looking bereft. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “What would you say to a dinner to celebrate our truce?” She looked doubtfully around her kitchen, and he quickly added, “I meant dinner out.”

  “A date?”

  “Not a date,” he quickly reassured her. “Just a dinner between two neighbors who’ve agreed to make peace.”

  “All right.”

  It was the most reluctant acceptance he’d ever heard. Nathan figured he’d better get the plans finalized and get out of here before she changed her mind. “I’ll pick you up at eight. Dress up fancy.”

  “Fancy?”

  “Sure. Something soft and ladylike. You have a dress like that, don’t you?” He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to see her in a dress, so he could admire those long legs of hers again.

  “Where is this dinner going to be?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Have you ever been to the hot springs at Chico?”

  “No. Where is that?”

  “About an hour south. Best lamb chops in two counties.” He saw her moue of distress and added, “Or you can have beef prime ribs if you’d rather.”

  She smiled, and he felt his heart beat faster at the shy pleasure revealed in the slight curl of her lips.

  “All right. I’ll be ready,” she said.

  Nathan left in a hurry before he did something really stupid, like take her in his arms and kiss that wide, soft mouth of hers and run his hands all over her body. He had it bad, all right. The worst. The woman was under his skin and there was no denying it.

  Nathan drove home so fast that his head hit the top of the pickup twice on his way down Harry-et’s road. He showered and shaved and daubed some manly-smelling, female-alluring scent on himself in record time. He donned a sandy-colored, tailored western suit that hugged him across the shoulders
like a second skin and added snakeskin boots and a buff felt cowboy hat.

  Nathan wasn’t conscious of how carefully he’d dressed until Katoya stopped him at the bottom of the stairs and said, “You are going hunting.”

  “I’m not exactly dressed for bear.”

  “Not for bear. For dear. One dear,” the old woman clarified with a cackle of glee.

  Nathan grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Noticeable, yes. As a wolf among sheep.”

  He started back up the stairs again. “I’ll change.”

  “It will do no good.”

  Nathan walked back down to her. “Why not?”

  “Even if you change the outer trappings, she will know what you feel.”

  “How?” he demanded.

  “She will see it in your eyes. They shine with excitement. And with hunger.”

  Nathan looked down at his fisted hands so that his lids would veil what the old woman had seen. “I want her,” he said. He looked up, and there was a plea in his eyes he didn’t know was there. “I know I’m asking for trouble. She’s all wrong for me. But I can’t seem to stop myself.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t try,” Katoya said softly. “Maybe it is time you let go of the past.”

  “Wish I could,” he said. “It isn’t easy.”

  “We do the best we can,” the Blackfoot woman said. “Go. Enjoy yourself. What must be will be.”

  He grabbed the tiny woman and hugged her hard. “You’re a wise old woman. I’ll do my best to take your advice.”

  He let her go and hurried out the door, anxious to be on his way. He didn’t see the sadness in her eyes as he left or the pain in her step as she headed for the window to watch him drive away in a classic black sports car that spent most of its time in his garage.

  For the entire trip to Cyrus’s ranch Nathan imagined how wonderful Harry-et would look dressed up. But the reality still exceeded his expectation.

  “I can’t believe it’s you,” he said in an awestruck voice when Harry opened the front door to the cabin. She stepped out, rather than inviting him in, and having seen the broken-down couch and chairs from the 1950s that served as living room furniture, Nathan understood why. But he wouldn’t let Harry into his car until he’d taken a good look at her.