“Almost,” he said huskily, his gaze not on the calf anymore, but on her.
Her knees went weak again. This time for an entirely different reason. For the space of one heartbeat she wondered if he was going to kiss her again. In the next heartbeat, she realized she wanted him to kiss her.
But instead of moving closer to her, Garrett backed away, then turned his attention to the corral once again. “Looks like we’re done here for tonight.”
Mimi reluctantly turned from him and saw the cow licking her new calf with long, gentle strokes of her tongue. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
Garrett didn’t say anything for a long moment. “No matter how many times I witness it, birth is always a miracle.”
She nodded, hot tears stinging her eyes.
The calf wobbled as it tried to rise on its spindly legs. It didn’t make it the first time. Or the second. The calf hit the ground numerous times before it finally succeeded in standing. Despite its efforts, the mama cow kept up her ministrations, licking her calf clean.
Mimi smiled. “You can tell she loves it already.”
“Sometimes they don’t,” Garrett said, his voice sounding a littler gruffer. A little more like normal. “Some cows reject their calves the moment they’re born. They won’t clean them or let them milk. They’d just leave them to die if I didn’t intervene.”
“But why?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “No maternal instinct, I guess. Not all females have one. Including the human kind.”
Mimi recoiled as if she’d been slapped. But Garrett had already turned and begun walking toward his truck. There was enough light for her to see the pain etched on his face. He’d been referring to his birth mother. After all these years, it was obvious her abandonment still bothered him. Maybe that was why he was so desperate to find her.
Maybe Mimi could help him.
“You can go on back to the house,” he said, opening the driver’s door of the truck. He didn’t look upset anymore, just very tired.
“What are you going to do?”
He nodded toward the calf pullers and the other paraphernalia in the back of the pickup. “I’ll just unload this stuff in the tack room, then I’ll be in, too.”
“Let me do it,” she said, moving toward him. “That’s the reason I’m here, after all.”
He hesitated, then shrugged and opened the driver’s door of the pickup for her.”
She climbed behind the steering wheel. “Where do you want me to put all this stuff?”
“Normally, I wash and sterilize the equipment, but since we didn’t use anything, that won’t be necessary tonight. Just hang it up on the hooks in the tack room.”
“Anything else I should do?” Mimi asked as she switched on the ignition.
“Get a good night’s sleep,” Garrett replied. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” He closed the driver’s door, then turned toward the house.
She watched him for a long moment, then shifted the truck into gear. Hubert, who had disappeared during the calving to chase jackrabbits, reappeared and escorted her to the barn, trotting beside the pickup.
“Quiet down,” Mimi whispered to him after she cut the engine and climbed out of the pickup. “You’ll spook the horses.”
Hubert followed cheerfully as she walked to the back of the truck and opened the tailgate. “You’re awfully chipper for three o’clock in the morning,” she said, unloading the calf pullers, a spray bottle of iodine and a bag full of vet supplies.
Hubert barked once, then waited while she pulled open the barn door. A horse whinnied inside, alerting the rest of the barn’s occupants to her presence. Moist warmth and the strong scent of hay enveloped her as she carried the calving equipment inside the barn. Hubert chose to stay by the open barn door, walking back and forth to guard against intruders.
Mimi opened the door to the tack room, then switched on the light. She blinked at the brightness of the bare bulb hanging on a wire from the ceiling, then carried the calf pullers to the new pine shelves on the south wall.
Garrett had been expanding the tack room, making it big enough to hold the small refrigerator he needed for penicillin and other veterinary medications. The north wall was only half-done. He’d torn down the plywood walls, revealing the original studs and the old lath slats.
Mimi reached up to hang the bag of supplies on a bent nail above her, but the frayed strap slipped off her fingers and the bag fell to the floor. Syringes rolled onto the plank floor, along with a spool of black suture thread. Muttering an oath under her breath, she kneeled to gather everything into the bag.
She’d just reached for the last syringe when she saw something unusual. A dusty, worn red leather book, tucked between a floorboard and one of the studs on the north wall. After placing the bag on the hook, she daintily pulled the book from its hiding place, grimacing at the cobwebs clinging to it. She blew the dust off the cover, then gently opened it. The pages were aged and brittle, the gilt edges worn almost bare. But the gently flowing script was still legible.
The inside front cover read, Private Property of Miss Katherine MacGuire, with the word private underlined three times. Fascinated by the discovery of this unexpected treasure, Mimi sank to the floor and began reading.
October 23, 1898
I woke up this morning to the most beautiful lightning storm. Pa says it’s God’s way of wishing me happy birthday. I’m eighteen now, and Mama gave me this journal to record the joys and sorrows of my life. I pray the Lord sees fit to send some joy my way soon and save the sorrow for when I’m an old woman.
Mimi smiled as she turned the page. She wondered if Katherine had penned her journal in this very barn over one hundred years ago.
November 1, 1898
Pa hired on a new cowboy today. His name is Boyd Harrison and he’s got the bluest eyes in Texas. He didn’t give me a second glance, but I looked him over plenty while he was helping break in the new lot of mustangs.
He hails from Kansas, but says he likes Texas better. Mama says he’s the wandering kind. I hope he decides to stay here awhile.
“Watch out for those cowboys,” Mimi warned softly under her breath. Then she turned to the next journal entry.
November 26, 1898
Mama invited all the hands to Thanksgiving dinner. I baked a chocolate cake and helped Mama cook up a mess of prairie chickens and dumplings. We also served candied sweet potatoes, succotash, and opened up two cans of water-melon pickles. Boyd said chocolate cake is his favorite.
It was the best Thanksgiving I can remember.
December 5, 1898
Boyd Harrison kissed me today behind the hog shed. His mustache tickled a little and he stopped kissing me when I started to laugh. He thought I was making fun of him until I told him the truth. Then he kissed me again. I liked it even better the second time.
Mimi heard a high-pitched whine and finally looked up from the old journal. Hubert sat at her feet, wagging his cropped tail.
“Did you get tired of waiting for me?” she asked, rising to her feet. She looked around the tack room, orienting herself once again to the present. Then she gently placed the journal in the oversize pocket of the coveralls. Giddy excitement washed through her at the discovery. As an archivist, she found this old journal more valuable than a pot of gold.
Whistling for Hubert to follow, she turned off the light in the tack room, then walked out the barn door, pulling it shut behind her. The mercury light illuminated the path to the house, and Mimi could feel the weight of the journal in her pocket as she walked.
It was strange to think that the author was a girl of eighteen who had at one time lived on this very ranch. She must have hidden her journal in the barn. No doubt to keep it out of reach of nosy brothers and sisters. Or perhaps her mother, who didn’t sound as enthusiastic about the dashing Boyd Harrison as Katherine.
Reading about the young girl’s troubles made her think of her own problems. Her family. Her father might be autocra
tic and high-handed. Might have lied to her. But she knew deep down that despite all his faults, he did love her. And she loved him, even if she wasn’t ready to confront him yet.
As Mimi walked into the silent house and hung up her coveralls on the hook by the door, she wondered if her father was worried about her. And even more important, if he was taking good care of himself.
She carefully pulled the old journal from the pocket of the coveralls, then walked to the bedroom. She sat down at Garrett’s desk and pulled open the top drawer. Inside, she saw a small stack of plain white postcards.
Before she could have time for second thoughts, she penned a short note to her father. Then she added a stamp and ran the card out to the mailbox. Garrett had already placed his outgoing mail in the box, so she knew he wouldn’t see it and question her about it.
Back in the bedroom, she changed into her nightshirt and burrowed under the covers. She wanted to read more of the journal, but exhaustion overcame her. Shortly after her head hit the pillow, she fell fast asleep.
And dreamed about kissing Garrett Lord behind a hog shed.
GARRETT HAD one chance left.
If he didn’t want to spend the next four weeks fighting his feelings for Mimi, he had to find a way to make her leave. Today.
She walked into the kitchen, her blond hair pulled into a sassy ponytail and a wide smile on those delectable lips. “Isn’t it a beautiful morning?”
Garrett looked up from his third cup of coffee, wondering where he’d gone wrong. After staying up half the night, Mimi looked better today than the day she’d arrived. His eyelids felt like sandpaper every time he blinked, and he’d been yawning practically nonstop since his alarm clock had gone off at six.
“Mmm, that coffee smells delicious.” She moved toward the counter and poured herself a steaming cup. Then she turned to face him. “So what’s on the agenda today, boss?”
“Chores first,” he said, setting his fork on his plate. “Then we’ll check the cows. After that…” He hesitated, wondering if he was playing fair. Mimi might be a city girl, but she’d shown spunk and determination he’d rarely seen in a woman. Truth be told, she was turning into a hell of a fine ranch hand, even if she did have a few unorthodox methods. Like herding cattle with cow pies.
She sat across from him and picked up a piece of buttered toast. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
He looked into her sky-blue eyes and experienced the same odd reaction he’d had outside the corral. She was just so damn enticing. He’d almost blown it last night. Almost kissed her again. And that definitely wasn’t in her job description. Hell, he’d be lucky if she didn’t sue him for sexual harassment.
It was time to send Mimi home, before he gave in to these ridiculous urges. Before he did something he was sure to regret.
“After we check the cows,” he said, taking a deep breath and plunging ahead before he could change his mind, “we’re going to do some target practice in the canyon.”
She paled. “Target practice. As in guns?”
“That’s right. You know how to shoot a rifle, don’t you?”
“Actually, no. Maybe I should just stay here and…keep an eye on the cows.”
He shook his head. “Every ranch hand needs to know how to handle a rifle. You’ll have to ride Flint today. Pooh isn’t used to the sound of gunfire.”
From the disgruntled expression on her face, neither was Mimi. Garrett ignored the way his conscience pricked at him the rest of the morning. Clearing predators off the place was part of a ranch hand’s duties. If Mimi couldn’t handle the job, then she didn’t belong here. It was pure and simple.
His resolve began to waver three hours later as they rode their horses single file into the canyon just south of the ranch. She looked pale on her horse, a huge gray gelding Garrett had assured her wouldn’t bolt at the sound of gunfire or at the sight of a rattlesnake.
He wished he could be as certain about her.
But I want her to bolt, he reminded himself. All the way back to Austin.
Garrett reined in his horse and waited for Mimi to catch up with him.
Her gaze traveled slowly over the canyon. “I don’t see any rattlesnakes.”
“It’s a good thing,” he said, climbing from his horse and looping the reins around the stump of a mesquite tree, “since you don’t know how to shoot yet.”
She stayed astride Flint. “Did I mention I don’t like guns? That I’ve never even touched a gun before?”
He checked the barrel of the rifle just to make sure it was empty. “It’s part of the job, Mimi. Take it or leave it.”
Mimi bit her bottom lip, obviously considering her options. Garrett’s heart began to pound hard in his chest as he awaited her decision. Which was odd, since he didn’t have anything at stake except his peace of mind.
“I’ll take it,” she said quietly, then dropped down off her horse. After hitching it to the same mesquite tree, she took the rifle out of his hands.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked.
“No.” The rifle shook slightly in her hands, but her gaze didn’t waver from his face. “But I’m sure I want to stay on as your ranch hand, so I’ll do whatever is necessary.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Why?”
She hesitated. “Because it’s important to me. I set out to prove to you that I’m more than just some fluffy city girl. But now I want to prove it to myself. If I have to shoot a few rattlesnakes to do it, then…I will.”
He’d lost, and he knew it, but he couldn’t back down now. The way her hands were shaking, she’d be lucky to hit the side of the canyon. “Okay. Time for your first lesson.”
She perched the butt of the rifle against her shoulder. “I’m ready.”
“Good. Now put the rifle down.”
She lowered the barrel until it touched the ground, then frowned at him. “I thought you wanted me to learn to shoot.”
“I do. But the most important part of learning to shoot is making sure you don’t shoot yourself. Or me.” He leaned forward and pointed near the trigger. “This is the safety switch. Always make sure it’s on before you pick up any gun. Once it’s in position, the trigger will not engage.” He demonstrated for her, then had her try it for herself.
“Okay,” she said, “the safety is on.”
“Now you need to see if the rifle is loaded.” He took the rifle from her hands, then pumped it once. “This is the chamber.”
She peered into it. “Looks empty to me.”
“Right. But that’s no guarantee. Pump it at least three more times just to make certain. If there is a bullet in there, it won’t pump.”
Her blond brows drew together. “This all sounds extremely complicated. When do I get to shoot something?”
He handed her the rifle. “Okay, the safety is on and the chamber is empty. Now it’s time to lock and load.”
He showed her how to place a rifle shell in the chamber and lock it into place. “Aim for that juniper tree over there.”
She placed the butt of the rifle against her shoulder, then cracked one eye open as she looked down the barrel of the gun. “Now what do I do?”
“Gently squeeze the trigger. And be ready for—” His words were drowned out as the shell exploded from the rifle. The recoil sent Mimi flying backward. She landed with a hard thud right on her rear end.
He bit back a smile as he helped her to her feet. “I tried to warn you about that.”
“You could have said something sooner,” she sputtered, wiping dirt and sage grass off the back of her jeans. Then she reached up to rub her shoulder. “That hurt.”
“You just have to be prepared for it next time.”
She peered at her target. “Did I hit the tree?”
“Not quite. Next time, don’t close both eyes when you pull the trigger. Hold the butt of the rifle tightly against your shoulder and brace your feet with your left leg slightly out in front.”
“How?”
“Like this.” He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her so he could place the rifle in the correct position on her shoulder. He could smell her hair and the faint, earthy scent of perspiration on her neck. Her body leaned slightly into his as she adjusted her footing. Garrett bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, attempting to remain immune to her nearness. And failing miserably.
“Okay, I think I’m ready,” she said.
Garrett stepped back, his heart beating an erratic tattoo in his chest. He watched Mimi turn on the safety switch, check the chamber, then lock and load. Clenching her jaw, she took careful aim at the juniper tree and cracked one eye open. Then she fired.
Garrett’s jaw dropped in disbelief as one of the branches exploded off the tree.
“I did it!” This time the recoil of the rifle had backed her up a couple steps, but she’d managed to stay on her feet. “Did you see that, Garrett?”
“I sure did.” He handed her another shell. “Now let’s see if it was just a lucky shot.”
She missed the next two, but connected on the third.
The shooting lesson continued long into the afternoon. At last they stopped to lunch on the tuna salad sandwiches Mimi had prepared. He almost could have enjoyed their impromptu picnic if he didn’t feel so sneaky. Mimi was thrilled with her shooting success and anxious to try more target practice. Only she didn’t know the kind of shooting he had in mind.
“I want to aim for something smaller now,” she said, licking bread crumbs off her fingers. She rose to her feet and reached for the rifle.
He was about to suggest shooting at a stunted shrub when his intended prey came into target. Much sooner than he’d expected.
“Is something wrong?” she asked as he rose slowly and carefully to his feet.
Fugitive Fiancée Page 9
