Cats and Cowboys

by Ruth J. Hartman

She frowned. “Were you trying to…hurt him?”

  “N-no! Of course not.”

  “I know how much you dislike cats, Jackson.”

  “I...” He ran his hand through his hair. “You see I...and then he...”

  “Well?” Tap tap tap. Lanna connected her shoe with the floor.

  “Never mind.” Pocketing his keys, he hurried toward the door. Right before the screen door slammed shut, he heard her laughing.

  Laughing? At him? Gritting his teeth, he stomped to his truck.

  ****

  Lanna huffed out a breath. Why couldn’t the irritating cowboy come and pick up his package? The box was the size of a minivan. Well, maybe more like a washing machine, but she still didn’t have room for it. Apparently he wasn’t going to respond to the messages she’d been leaving.

  Although to be fair, she’d probably hurt his feelings when she laughed at him. Still, she’d been shoving the box out of the way, squeezing between it and other boxes, and climbing over it for three days. She had a rip in the knee of her jeans to prove it. Enough was too much. The last thing she wanted to do in this heat was push around his big, obnoxious box.

  Maybe she should try calling him one last time before she dragged it into the street to be run over by someone’s gargantuan pickup truck. She frowned. No, the mayor would have her hide, and Gordon wouldn’t appreciate being homeless if Lanna lost her job.

  She sighed and ran her fingers through her curls, pushing her damp hair away from her face. Nope. The time had come. Mr. Harrington was getting a special delivery whether he liked it or not.

  After sweet-talking her part-time worker to help load the package into the back of her Jeep, she climbed in the front seat. Was it her imagination, or did the Jeep seem to tilt toward the rear tires? Man, she’d be so glad to get rid of this stupid box.

  Her old Jeep rattled and bumped over dusty, pot-holed roads. Sure was different than downtown Indianapolis. She shook her head. Some parts were different. Indy had potholes, just ones in pavement instead of dust. It wasn’t as bouncy as this road, though. Good grief.

  She gripped the steering wheel tight, which was difficult with sweaty hands slipping every few seconds. Hmmm. Too bad she didn’t get the air-conditioning fixed before she got to Texas. It would sure come in handy right about now.

  Her GPS instructed her to turn right. She lowered her eyebrows. What? Now? Where there hadn’t been a curve in the road, she now saw the weed-covered hairpin turn. She pulled the steering wheel that direction, praying her hands didn’t slide off. Since she’d never been great at driving with her toes or teeth, her sweaty hands had to hang on for the ride.

  Her Jeep bounced and pitched to the left, spraying dust upward into the open driver’s side window. Wind blew tiny particles into her eyes.

  Ah! I can’t see! Both feet hit the brake. The sudden force jolted her forward, knocking her forehead on the hard, hot steering wheel. Lanna put the Jeep in park and shook dust out of her hair and off her face. This was not listed in the job description. At all. Cursing Jackson Harrington under her breath, she grabbed her purse, felt around the depths, and clamped her fingers around a tiny bottle of eye drops.

  Once she used the drops and the burn in her eyes lessened, she wiped them with the back of her hand, pitched the eye drop bottle on the passenger seat, and popped the Jeep back in drive. Stupid man better appreciate this, or I’ll kick his cute cowboy butt into next week. She’d driven five hundred yards or so when she slammed on the brakes again.

  Cow.

  Great. Right in the middle of the road. She leaned her head out the window.

  “Hey Elsie, where I come from, animals too stupid to get out of the road become hood ornaments. Know what I mean?”

  To Lanna’s horror, the cow stared straight at her, and then started walking. Down the road. Toward her. Oh no. No. She slid down in her seat, hoping the giant milk-maker would take the hint and scram. Maybe it wouldn’t see her down on the floor.

  No such luck. She heard a snuffle and smelled a repulsive stench. What in the world was that? It smelled like someone had rolled in manure. She darted a glance up. Big mistake.

  Lanna didn’t realize she was going to scream until she heard her own shriek. The big bulbous head of the stinky, cud-chewing cow was now poking through her open window, dripping cow spit onto the seat of the Jeep. Ewww.

  How now, brown cow? How did one get rid of a giant, brown and white rodent who decided she looked edible? Would it bite her?

  Clamping her teeth on her lip so she wouldn’t scream again, Lanna reached out one finger toward the door. Please don’t bite me, drool on me, or urp up the putrid whatever-it-is you seem to find so delicious. She popped the button for the automatic window. Just a little. Didn’t want to kill the monster, just scare it away.

  The cow’s head lifted three inches, rising along with the window. But it didn’t move. Or moo. It just stared with huge brown eyes the color of chocolate.

  Okay. Let’s try that again. She darted her finger to the lever again. Two more inches for the cow’s noggin to move upward. Lanna sighed. Now what? The nosy cow didn’t seem to want to depart peacefully. She didn’t want to harm it, though. Looking at those sad, brown eyes made her realize it wouldn’t hurt her. Still, she’d rather not be stuck on the floor of the Jeep, legs cramping, backs of her knees and armpits sweating, wondering how on earth she could get out of this mess.

  Gravel crunched on the road behind her. The cow, now bored with Lanna, found something more interesting to gawk at. It pulled its head from her window and angled toward the noise. Hooves clicked on dusty gravel. Lanna was saved. Hallelujah!

  She uncoiled her body, sliding on hot cow goo, to sit in the seat. Gross. Better than sitting on the floor waiting to be eaten by a cow, though.

  She plastered a smile on her face, ready to thank the nice whoever who had come to her rescue. As she pivoted toward the person stomping up to her open window, her smile died on her dusty lips.

  “What are you doing to my cow?” Jackson towered over her, glaring down with chocolate eyes.

  Wait. That was what she’d noticed about the cow’s eyes. Chocolate brown. So now she couldn’t shake the image of Jackson and the cow facing each other and gazing into each other’s identical brown eyes with long lashes and dreamy expressions.

  Lanna bit her lip, hoping to contain her mirth. It had the opposite effect. Instead of holding it in, it eked out of the left corner of her lip, sounding as a squeak. That did it. There was no holding back now. She sputtered and laughed, shaking, trying to catch her breath. All the while, the scowling man in the cowboy hat glared.

  Jackson crossed his arms. “What’s so funny?”

  “I uh—.” More sputtering.

  “Stop it.”

  Lanna flattened her palms on the sides of her face. “C-cant.”

  “Hey!” Jackson planted his tan hands on the edge of the open window and leaned in. Just like the cow. Would Jackson try to bite her if she raised the window on his head? She doubled over with laughter. Again.

  When Lanna realized just how miffed Jackson was at her, she sobered. Her laughter dried up. What in the world did the man have to be so mad about? Was it her fault his cow had the habit of trying to hitch a ride by standing in the middle of the road? He had no right to be upset. She was the one doing him a favor. She was the one delivering his package, the one he didn’t bother to pick up, which she’d had to work around for days while waiting for him to relieve her of it.

  She harrumphed. What a load of cow doo. And did he even thank her for going out of her way to deliver his property? No sir, he did not. Instead, his face reddened as he lectured her on how to treat a cow, how to drive on country roads, and how not to interfere with a rancher’s work. So he had to come to her rescue, wasting a perfectly good afternoon when he should have been working.

  Lanna rolled her eyes and yawned, acting as if Jackson wasn’t even there. It seemed to do the trick. When he ran out of things to scold her abo
ut, he also ran out of steam and headed to his truck. Sometimes a girl had to resort to trickery rather than out and out yelling in a guy’s face. Not that she was opposed to the yelling, she just didn’t feel like waiting out in the heat while he lectured.

  Lanna gripped the steering wheel and gritted her teeth as she followed his pick-up truck, eating its dust. She’d like to kick Jackson somewhere painful, repeatedly, till he cried like a little girl. What a jerk. See if she tried to do anything for him in the future. Maybe her first idea, leaving his package in the middle of the road to be squashed, was a good one.

  Her Jeep bumped around on a long dirt drive. Would her tires hold up enough to get back home? Rocks and brown scrubby trees lined the path on either side of the drive. What she wouldn’t give to see some green right about now. Grass, maple trees, a tree frog. Something. She’d been hearing about the Texas drought, and boy, they weren’t kidding.

  As she followed Jackson into the circle in front of the house, she opened her mouth until it gaped. This place was huge! Granted, she was used to working in her tiny post office, in the tiny town, and living in her even tinier apartment. But still, it truly was wide-open spaces out here. Putting her Jeep into park, she jumped out, rounded to the back end, and popped open the hatch.

  “I’ve got it.” With barely a look in her direction, Jackson grabbed the sides of the box, effortlessly pulling it from the Jeep and lifting it in his arms. Lanna’s mouth watered as she watched his large arm muscles ripple and strain. He headed toward the house, so she did too. Not that she wanted any further conversation with Mr. Rudeness, but she would like to wash some dust and cow ick from her hands and face. Was it too much to ask for all the trouble she’d gone to?

  He left the box on the front porch and stomped in the house. She hurried over the threshold behind him, narrowly avoiding getting thwacked in the head by the squeaky screen door.

  He stopped in the living room and stood with his hands planted on his denim-covered hips, but he said nothing. Was he waiting for her to say something? Well, all righty then.

  Lanna held up her hands. “Is there someplace I can—?”

  “Kitchen.” He pointed behind him with his thumb, and then stormed past her, out the front door, and down the steps.

  Well, that was irritating. The man knew how to hold a grudge. She headed the direction he’d thumbed at her, crossing through the living room into the kitchen. The appliances were old but clean. Everything was put away. Not a dirty glass or plate in the sink. Even the dishcloth hung over the edge of the sink was neatly folded.

  Lanna hung her purse from a metal hook on the kitchen wall and headed toward the sink. The pipes squealed when she flipped on the faucet, but a steady stream of water soon came out.

  Ah. The cool water felt so good on her hands. Grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser, she dried her hands, and then rubbed the damp towel over her face, forehead to chin. She grimaced. Yuck. Look at all the dirt from her face. She shuddered, thinking what else from the cow might have been on there. Don’t go there. Better not to know.

  After throwing away the paper towel, she glanced around. Hmmm. Much tidier than her apartment ever was. Was he some kind of clean freak? Didn’t seem to go with living out in the country. Lanna had pictured his ranch house as a kind of cabin with dirt floors. She giggled. Well, maybe not actual dirt floors. Just dirt. On the floor.

  The screen door smacked shut as Lanna eased down the rickety wooden steps. She held out her arms for balance. Why wasn’t there a railing? These steps were almost as bad as the ones leading to her apartment. It seemed funny that the inside of the house was so neat, but several things outside seemed to need repair. Even though there had been no air-conditioning in Jackson’s house, the minute she stepped out of the shade of the porch, sweat trickled under her arms and between her breasts.

  Lanna was ready to vacate the premises of one annoying Mr. Harrington, but remembered she needed to get his signature for the package. Where did he go? His truck was still parked next to her Jeep, so he had to be here somewhere. She ambled toward the corral, stopping just short of the fence, fascinated by the baby horses.

  Lanna squinted into the bright sunlight to watch them play. She should have brought her sunglasses. Someone had put a large, yellow plastic ball in the pen with them and they were playing with it like a couple of kittens with a ball of yarn. Well, who knew?

  She climbed up on the fence, standing with her tennis shoes on the bottom rung. The white soles squeaked against the rough wood. As she leaned forward on the top of the fence with her forearms, she soaked in the bright sunshine and feisty animals. The horses nickered, calling to each other like players in kickball. Over here! I’m open!

  How was it she’d lived in this part of the country for several weeks and never taken the time to appreciate the beauty of these gorgeous animals? To be fair though, her life in downtown Indianapolis didn’t give her much experience with being around anything bigger than Gordon. And he was big, in a pudgy-cat sort of way.

  No one seemed to be around the corral at the moment, except her. She watched the gorgeous creatures for several more minutes before jumping down from the fence.

  Splat.

  Well, perfect. Now her tennis shoes were muddy. Lanna sighed. At least at her job, she stayed fairly clean, except for the giant dust hippos in her storage area. It was better than cow goo and horsy doo, though. Shaking the large clumps from her shoes, she grumbled. Guess those will have to be washed when she got home, along with her clothes, hair, and entire person. Gordon would have a field day sniffing her clothes, taking in all the foreign smells.

  Lanna spun in a circle, checking out the house, the barn, and the dusty field behind her. Where was everybody? Had they all taken a coffee break at the same moment? Seemed like weird timing. She’d never have gotten away with leaving the post office unattended before she had part-time help. The mayor would have had her head. Walking toward the large, red barn, she noticed the door was wide open. Wouldn’t Jackson’s animals escape? Gordon never went outside. Lanna was too afraid he’d get lost, hurt, or catnapped.

  Crossing the threshold into the darkness of the barn, she stood still a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness. A musty smell rose up in the dust to tickle her nose. And what was that sound? It sounded like a big…she turned her head to the right. Wow.

  Look at the size of that giant horse. She didn’t get too close to the stall, but had to lean her head way back to see its face. Big dark eyes. Pointed ears. Round nostrils. The animal was enormous. Like an elephant with a mane.

  The giant horse snorted, spraying droplets of snot on Lanna’s arm. Eeewww, how repulsive. What was the deal with these Texas animals and their snot? Sure, Gordon sneezed on her from time to time, but his sneezes were tiny squeaks, which didn’t produce much of anything. She searched for something to wipe her arm off with but found nothing. Didn’t these ranchers believe in paper towels and antiseptic hand gel? Shaking her arm dry, she vowed to wash again as soon as she went back to the house for her purse. Gross.

  Backing farther away from the source of the offensive goo, Lanna spun and hurried toward the rear of the barn. There had to be some people around here somewhere. The horses she saw in the stalls there were big, but not quite of the gargantuan variety of the huge silver one.

  Lanna stopped, tilting her head. A whimper. Tiny motors. She shook her head. No way. Could it be? Could the cat-hating man actually have…cats? Then she remembered he had admitted to having barn cats.

  She hurried toward the meowing. “Oh, how precious.” As she got closer, she counted six, no seven, kittens. All adorable. Three were gray tiger-striped, two were solid black, one solid gray, and a rogue longhaired orange one. It could pass for Gordon’s little brother or sister. She loved their huge eyes and stubby tails. Kneeling, she scooted toward the cats. Something bumped her from behind. Lanna whipped around.

  “Oh, hi there. You must be Mom. I’m just admiring your babies.” The adult black cat r
ubbed against Lanna’s leg, purring and squinting her gorgeous yellow eyes.

  Lanna rubbed the cat behind the ears. It purred louder. “Well aren’t you sweet? Why I could just—”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  Lanna squeaked and jumped to her feet. Whirling around, she stood, open-mouthed, staring at Jackson. “You nearly frightened me out of my skin!”

  Jackson looked from her, to the cats behind her, and back to her. “Should have seen that coming.”

  She frowned, still trying to slow her breathing. “Seen what?”

  “You. And cats. What is it about them that captivates you?” He crossed his arms over his chest. Dark hair on his arms peeked out from under his rolled-up sleeves. Lanna had the sudden urge to run her fingertips over his arm. Would his skin be soft or rough?

  Lanna gazed up at his face, her breathing now back to normal. “What is it about cats that makes you so angry?” She picked up the momma cat and cuddled it against her chest.

  Jackson appeared horrified. “Why did you pick up the cat?”

  “Because she looked like she needed a hug.” And because I need one.

  “She looked like... Lady, you’re crazy.”

  “I think we’ve covered this ground before, Jackson.” Lanna held the cat closer to her chest, hoping Jackson’s raised voice wasn’t upsetting her.

  He shook his head. “I just don’t get you.”

  “You’re not easy to understand either, you know.”

  “I—” He was interrupted by a short, balding man in jeans and a denim shirt.

  “Sorry, Boss,” said the man. “I wondered if your guest would be staying for supper. I’d need to let the cook know.”

  “No!” said Lanna and Jackson at the same time.

  Lanna set the cat back on the floor, giving her fluffy head one final pat. “No, I need to get back to the post office and help close up. Jackson, you need to sign for your package before I go.”

  Jackson rolled his eyes and mumbled.

  Lanna caught something about wasted time, but didn’t ask for him to repeat it. It was a good bet it was something about her, and not something good.