She was breathtaking. Truly. His chest constricted, not allowing a bit of air in.
His eyes roamed up to her face. She was near enough he could see those crystal blue eyes—deepened by the same shade in the dress. And they were locked on his. A hint of a smile played across her mouth as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
Something poked his side hard enough to knock him off balance. Monty glanced over to see Bo’s teasing half-grin, just a little too close. A single brow raised on his kid brother’s face.
Monty swallowed. He should probably make introductions. “Bo, I’d like you to meet Grace—Miss Harper.” He swept his gaze to Grace and fell into her smile as she stepped closer. “Grace, my brother…” But he couldn’t take his eyes from her. Where had the muddy cowpuncher gone? She was more elegant than any woman he’d seen.
Now that she was close enough, he could see the ear bobs dangling from her delicate lobes. Light blue stones, almost the color of those sparkling eyes. She extended a dainty hand in Bo’s direction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr….Dominguez?” She looked to Monty, but he could only stare at her. The way the light danced in her eyes. Her full lips…
“Yes, ma’am. The pleasure is mine.” Bo took the extended fingers, bowing low. When had his baby brother learned ballroom manners? “You must be the new cowpuncher Anna told us about. I’m sure you’ve had your hands full keeping my brother here in line.”
Monty had an itch to knock the twinkle out of Bo’s eye. “I think they’re waiting for us at the table.” He stepped forward between the two of them, elbowing Bo aside. For a second, he almost extended his arm to escort Grace into the dining room. But a shy awkwardness took over, and he waved her forward instead. “After you.”
What was he doing? This wasn’t the cowhand he’d worked beside these last few weeks. How in the world was he supposed to treat her now, decked out and stunning in this dress? He’d never been trail boss to a lady before.
A bit of the conversation in the dining room died away as Grace entered, but the boys had the good sense not to leave their jaws hanging open too long.
Monty motioned toward Bo, hoping a little distraction would help. “Most of you fellows remember my brother, Bo.”
Donato was the first to step forward and give Bo a hearty slap on the back. “Good to see you, primo.” Good ol’, Donato.
But over Bo’s shoulder, Donato sent Monty a wink and raised a brow toward Grace, as if to say, “Sweet molasses, did you see her?”
I know, primo. I know. It was all Monty could do not to watch her glide across the room to her chair.
No doubt about it. He was in trouble.
~ ~ ~
IT WAS ONLY mid-afternoon the next day when Grace caught sight of Santiago waving her in. She’d been riding the edge of the herd, watching for young calves straying too far from safety, but it looked like the rest of the men were headed toward the trail back to the ranch.
Surely they weren’t done for the day already. They still had a couple hours before quitting time. Of course, the rain hadn’t let up. Was it normal to have this much rain in Texas? Seemed like a miserable way to spend the spring.
She reined in her horse when she reached Santiago.
“Boss says we’re headed in early. Reckon he’d rather see his brother than look at a bunch of drenched cattle.”
Grace nodded and fell in line behind Santiago. She couldn’t say she blamed him. Bo seemed like a good-humored, likeable man, and his wife, Miranda, had such a sweet spirit about her. And Miranda had confided last night that they had another baby on the way. The joy that lit her face with the whispered announcement had started a longing in Grace’s chest. Would she ever have the opportunity for a family of her own?
At twenty-eight, she would well be considered an old maid. Wouldn’t Mama be horrified? Mama had been working hard to prepare her for matrimony before her death almost a decade before, but after that…
Grace had wanted nothing more than to work with the animals, alongside Papa and Rusty. The foolish trappings of courting and social events among the neighboring ranches seemed like a waste of time.
And now, even if she did take a husband, she’d have to give up the work she’d come to love. Would it be worth it? At least it would get her out of this miserable rain. And the more time she spent with the children, the more the longings crept in. But it couldn’t even be an option now. Not until she was free of Leonard.
As the ranch buildings came into view, she shook off the melancholy thoughts. A wagon sat in front of the barn with several figures hustling around it. Had Mr. O’Brien returned? He’d taken a wagon with him to pick up supplies. What a wet ride home he would have had.
Indeed it was Mr. O’Brien. He waved at the cowpunchers riding in as he jogged through the rain toward the house.
Grace took her time unsaddling her mare in the barn, brushing Pepper and rubbing her down with a rag. She wasn’t exactly avoiding going inside, but the barn was so peaceful with the drum of rain on the roof and the loamy smell of wet dirt and animals. If she were warm and dry, she would have camped out here for the rest of the day.
But instead, she settled Pepper into a stall and headed toward the house. As she stepped through the front door, a cluster of voices drifted from the dining room. Were they having coffee and a snack? Maybe some of Mama Sarita’s dried apple pie. Sounded perfect for a day like today.
She was able to sneak up the stairs without meeting anyone, and exhaled a long breath as she closed her bedroom door. What she wouldn’t give for a bath. But that was out of the question with so many people around, so she’d have to settle for another thorough wipe down with a damp cloth like last night.
A glimpse of green on the bed snagged her attention. Grace stepped forward and examined the two gowns laid out on the quilt. The one on top was a forest green taffeta, with darker green and white lace trimming, and the gown underneath was a lovely burgundy muslin. She fingered the lace on the green dress. These must be ones Anna had said she’d pass along.
The ladies had carried on last night about her blue gown, the only one she’d folded in her bedroll before she left California. After wearing trousers for so many months straight, it had felt strange to be in a skirt again, yet comfortable at the same time. Like a pair of old cotton drawers, softened from many washings, yet just discovered hiding at the bottom of the wardrobe.
And the way Monty had looked at her… As much as she shouldn’t have enjoyed his attention, she had. Even now, she replayed the scene in her mind. The way his dark eyes rounded, then darkened to a smolder. The play of a smile at his mouth. The show of possessiveness when any of the other men spoke to her.
But possessiveness? That couldn’t be what it was. Protection. Yes, Monty and his fierce desire to protect.
After removing as much mud and grime as she could, Grace slipped into clean underthings, then pulled the green dress into place. It actually fit fairly well. A little tight through the chest, but not unbearable or too obvious. Maybe later, she could let out the seams.
Staring at herself in the mirror, she twisted her hair up and held it in place, trying to envision herself through Monty’s eyes. Of course, last night was the first time he’d seen her in anything other than grubby cowpuncher clothes. Had he finally realized she was a woman? A better question was…did she want him to?
No.
She dropped her hair like a hot branding iron. It was important she be seen as an equal in the man’s world she’d joined. Tough enough to withstand the rigors of life with longhorns.
But when she fastened her hair in the usual long braid, it didn’t look right with the dress. So she settled for gathering it into a low ribbon, pulled to the side to give just a touch of elegance. Being braided all morning had left her hair in loose curls as it dried from the rain.
Another glimpse in the mirror made her pause. Good enough? Her ears looked lonely, but she wasn’t wearing Mama’s blue zircon earrings again. That had been too much last night. Yet d
ressing up had been as natural as breathing. When guests were present, she was expected to represent the family well.
But she wasn’t part of this family, and she had no role to play, except as hired cowhand.
Slipping out the door, she headed for the stairs. It was too early to convene in the dining room, but with the added guests, Mama Sarita might need a hand with the meal. It was a wonder the woman could cook such feasts every day.
As she descended the stairs, the sound of excited male voices drifted from the parlor. The muscles in her shoulders tensed until she was able to detect each of them.
Mr. O’Brien. Bo. Monty.
When her slippered foot touched the bottom landing, Grace tiptoed around the bannister and headed straight for the kitchen.
Even knowing she could trust these men, the less stir she made, the better.
Chapter Eight
“YOU SHOULD HAVE seen it, Monty. Right there in the Alamo Plaza.”
Monty leaned back in the armchair and watched Jacob wave his hands dramatically while he told of the happenings in San Antonio. He’d not seen his friend this animated in quite a while.
“A whole herd of longhorns, pressing and straining against the barbed wire. But it didn’t budge. Not one of them got through.” Jacob sank against his chair back, apparently exhausted. Or maybe just awestruck. “I ordered enough to fence along the north pasture for now. If we like it, we’ll get more.”
Monty sat straighter. “You ordered it already?”
“Yep. You’ll love it, Monty. Wait and see.”
Love it? That was quite a strong emotion to apply to thin strands of spiked wire. He picked up the six inch sample Jacob had brought and examined the piece. Glidden’s Winner Wire, they’d called it.
“McManus said it has a reputation for being light as air, stronger than whiskey, and cheap as dirt.” Jacob raised a hand, palm out. “His words, not mine.”
Monty dropped the wire back in his lap and turned to his brother. “You guys use anything like this?”
Bo shook his head. “No. I can see where it’d help keep track of the cattle though.”
Jacob leaned forward, gripping the arms of his chair. “You should’ve seen the way ranchers were placing orders for the stuff. I was one of the first in line, though. Said we should receive delivery in a couple of weeks.”
Monty eased out a long breath. Only a couple of weeks? Something about this didn’t sit well in his gut. But Jacob was so excited about the idea. And he’d already purchased the wire. The decision had been taken out of Monty’s hands, but he’d have to make the best of it.
~ ~ ~
“DODGER HAS VERY bright eyes and he does many funny things.” Grace sat on the kitchen floor, her back against the wall. Emmaline and Sandria balanced on each of her legs, both girls holding a side of McGuffey’s Second Eclectic Reader so Grace could read the stories to them. “He likes to put his paws up on the crib and watch the baby.”
Emmaline giggled. “If we had a dog, I bet it would do that to Martin’s crib. And Mama would say, ‘Get down.’”
Grace chuckled. “I’ll bet you’re right.”
Mama Sarita sent them a tender smile from where she stirred something in a pot at the stove.
“We have a dog. He likes to lick me.” Four-year-old Sandria’s nose wrinkled as she spoke. “He likes Papa too, but not Paul. Paul pulls hair and hurts.”
Such cute little angels, these two. Grace scanned the book to find her place, but the door opened beside them, dragging her attention upward. She expected to see Miranda, fresh from her nap with Paul. Instead, her gaze landed on a pair of grey trousers. She raised her focus up, up…to Monty’s lean torso, broad shoulders, and finally his chiseled face.
His gaze met hers as surprise flashed across his features. He looked to each of the girls, then back to her, up to Mama Sarita, around the room, then back to Grace again. “I…was coming to see if we had any coffee left.”
“Uncle Monty!” Both girls clamored the words as they scrambled to their feet.
Grace winced as they stumbled over her outstretched skirts and ankles. As soon as they were clear, they launched themselves into Monty’s legs. Squeals erupted as he lumbered forward, lifting each girl as they clung tight to a leg. “Oh ho, seems like my legs have grown creatures.” He deepened his voice like a giant, then braced one hand against the wall and raised the opposite leg in the air, giving it a sound shake.
Emmaline’s giggle rattled as she clutched his knee for dear life. “No, stop.” But her request was almost swallowed up in laughter.
Monty lowered that leg and raised the other. “That creature won’t get off. Let’s see about this one.”
Sandria was already laughing, but when she soared upward with Monty’s leg, a little squeal broke loose, followed by a chorus of giggles.
It was impossible not to laugh with so many happy sounds filling the room. She’d never seen this playful side of Monty. Sure, he would joke or tease with the men, especially around the campfire when they’d camped out during branding and round-up. But nothing like this jovial uncle, who now scooped both girls up—one in each arm—and raised them upside down over his shoulders.
The grin spreading across his face made her stomach flip, and something in her chest craved to have him focus that smile on her. Gone were the tired lines around his eyes from sun and wind and work. Why didn’t he have a family of his own, with sons and daughters he could laugh and play with every day? Surely a man with Monty’s rugged good looks and quiet wisdom would have every unmarried woman in town setting her sights on him. So why hadn’t he settled down?
And then he swung around, turning those handsome dark eyes her direction. “Are you girls behaving for Miss Grace? Showing her how you can be young ladies?”
Grace raised her brows at him. After he’d just flown them about, hanging upside down and jiggling until their teeth loosened, he was worried about them acting like young ladies? She sent a grin to each girl. “We’ve been having a grand time, but I can tell my reading isn’t quite as fun as playing with Uncle Monty.”
Sandria wiggled in Monty’s arms until he lowered her to the ground. She ran over to Grace and placed a hand on her shoulder. With a solemn expression she said, “Your reading was very good, Miss Grace.”
Grace couldn’t help but pull the tender-hearted girl into a hug. “Thank you, Sandria. You made it special.” Her gaze caught Monty’s over the child’s shoulder, and his face wore an unusual expression. Almost like confusion, but not quite. Something in her stomach clenched.
“Here Emmy-belle, let your Uncle Monty sit and drink his coffee.” Mama Sarita’s words broke through the moment, and Monty turned away to the table where the older woman placed a mug.
But as his attention left her, a wave of loneliness replaced it. Enough. She couldn’t be a sappy-eyed female. She was here to do a job. A man’s job. And it would take all her energy and focus to do it well. Monty was a distraction she couldn’t afford.
~ ~ ~
CONVERSATION AT THE dinner table that night centered around Mr. O’Brien’s news from San Antonio. Barbed wire? Grace had heard of it from Papa, of course, but he’d said it wouldn’t be a viable option. How much wire would it take to fence in five hundred acres? And would the stuff really keep the cattle contained?
The tale Mr. O’Brien told of the demonstration certainly sounded fantastic. The men peppered him with questions, but she couldn’t help but notice Monty’s silence. In fact, he didn’t speak a word until Nathan asked him how they were going to get the fences built.
In his usual deliberate way, Monty paused before answering, which brought the entire room to a hush as they awaited his response. “I guess we’ll split off a crew to work on the fence, while the rest keep going with our other work. We’ll rotate one person out each day so everyone gets a chance to build fences. We can start with four men, then see how it goes.”
“How soon ‘til the wire gets here?” Santiago aimed the question at Mr. O�
�Brien, and the attention of the room swung back to that end of the table.
Grace continued to watch Monty, though. He dipped his head to eat a bite of enchilada, and when he raised it again, twin lines creased his forehead. He definitely didn’t seem to share Mr. O’Brien’s enthusiasm for the project. What were his concerns? In theory, it sounded like a good idea to enclose the ranch’s property. It would likely take less manpower to care for the herd, and be easier to keep track of the cattle. Not to mention keeping unwanted animals out.
Was Monty upset because he was left out of the decision, and now being saddled with the task of getting the work done? But that didn’t feel right either. Maybe she could find a quiet moment later to ask.
~ ~ ~
MONTY STEPPED ONTO the front porch and eased the door shut behind him. The rain had finally stopped, and the clouds parted in areas to reveal twinkling stars. Inside, the house had started to feel cramped and stuffy with all those people. He needed a few minutes to himself. And the fresh, after-rain smell in the night air was perfect.
He settled onto the porch rail, his back against a post, and stared out at the grassy expanse surrounding the house. Only thirty feet or so was visible before it faded into the darkness beyond. What would it be like for all this open land to be fenced?
The door behind him creaked, and light spilled onto the porch floor.
Monty didn’t move. Most of the cowpunchers had already headed to the bunkhouse, but maybe one or two of his cousins had stayed to reminisce about old times with Bo, and were now headed for bed.
A soft swish sounded. Not the thud of boots on wood.
He turned for a glance over his shoulder, and his pulse skipped a beat. Grace.
She stepped toward him, wrapping her arms around her against the chill of the spring night. He tracked her movements with his gaze, but when she stopped beside him and stared into the night, he did the same.
The Rancher Takes a Cowgirl Page 6
