by Jen Peters
She watched the new guy load bales, whacking the hay hooks into each end and tossing them easily and accurately. He was lean, with a t-shirt sticking to him that showed off well-defined shoulder and back muscles. He definitely wasn’t new to this kind of work. She grinned as she watched him—she was in no hurry, as long as he didn’t turn around and see her. He tossed his dusty blond hair out of his eyes once in a while, showing enough of his face to make her smile some more.
Then he looked up.
A flash of green eyes caught hers. He set his hay hooks into a bale, pulled off his gloves and wiped an arm across his face, then hopped off the flatbed and approached.
Oh my. Robin took a step back.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“I was looking for Mr. Jackson,” she said, stammering slightly. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. “He called and said he has a dog for me.”
He grinned suddenly, his blank face coming to life. “You’re the dog lady! I’m Cliff Jackson. Phil’s my uncle.”
She could only nod. He wasn’t model-pretty, at least not his face—his nose looked like it had been broken, and he had a slightly chipped front tooth. Hay dust coated his skin and gave him an overall gritty look. But there was a lot of life in his smile and oh, those eyes!
“So you’re going to take the stray?”
She swallowed. “Yup,” she finally croaked. “I’ve got a kennel I can put him in if he doesn’t get along with the others.”
Cliff looked at her. “Last we saw, he was over by the heifers,” he finally said. “This way.”
Robin followed him around the red barn and across a pasture to where a small herd of cattle milled around. She didn’t know an awful lot about cows, but she knew these were black Angus.
She looked where Cliff pointed and finally made out a grayish dog with a long snout and a bushy tail. “He’s a dog, not a coyote?” she asked.
“Yup,” came Mr. Jackson’s rough voice. “Glad you could make it so quickly. And he’s definitely dog. Has some herding instincts, too, and he won’t quit bothering them.”
She watched the dog for a few moments. He, or she, nipped at a heifer’s heels and agilely dodged her kick. “Got any ideas?” she asked.
“We tried bribing him with meat,” Cliff said. “Some old beef pieces that were too tough to cook easy. We figured he’d come to those, but he’s too wily.”
“Do you mind if I try?”
Cliff lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Sure, anything to get him out of here.”
He trotted off toward the house, and Robin forced herself to look at Mr. Jackson. “How’ve you been, Mr. J?”
“Oh, can’t complain. Well, I could, but it wouldn’t change anything,” he chuckled.
“So Cliff—is he out for the summer?”
Mr. Jackson’s smile sank into a frown. “No, his dad—my brother—passed away this spring. They had to sell the ranch, but his mom couldn’t convince him to go to college. Doesn’t want to do anything but ranching. So he’s out here until he figures out just what he wants.”
“How awful. About his dad, I mean, not that he’s out here. But…his mom? Doesn’t she need him?”
Cliff came jogging up right then, holding a bowl with meat scraps in the bottom. “Good luck.”
Robin kept her face blank. He was all about the dog right now. Like she should be.
Mr. Jackson handed her an old rope, and she followed Cliff out to the heifers. They were nervous with the strange dog, milling about and bumping into each other. Cliff talked softly to them as they approached. She liked that—he obviously knew his way around animals.
As they worked their way to the side, a heifer lashed out with her hind foot, and the dog didn’t move fast enough. He yelped and leapt backward, then hobbled away on three legs.
“Oh no,” Robin cried. She took the bowl of scraps and hurried toward the dog. She slowed as she approached him, hunkered down low and called softly to him. “Here boy, I’m not going to hurt you.”
She held her hand out slowly, palm up, but he just looked at her with wary eyes. His ears flicked back and forth, and his muscles bunched to move.
She reached for a piece of meat and held it out, dripping juices. “Here, look what I’ve got,” she crooned. “You’re hungry, aren’t you? What a handsome boy you are, don’t you want some of this?”
She kept murmuring, focused on the dog and not knowing where Cliff was, only that she didn’t hear or feel him moving behind her. The dog had laser eyes for the meat. His nose twitched and he limped forward a few inches.
Robin mimicked him, and they closed the distance, alternating a few inches at a time. Finally, the dog snatched the piece of meat from her hand. He swallowed it in one gulp and backed off a few feet, his left hind leg hovering off the ground. She held another piece out, and he didn’t take as long to creep forward again. On the third time, she set the bowl on the ground and he let her slip the rope around his neck while he gobbled up the rest.
She knelt and crooned to him. The dog licked his mouth and over his nose, looked to her for more, then came forward to sniff her hands. He quivered as she petted him. She drew the rope snug, murmured some more, and stood slowly.
When she turned, Cliff was standing twenty feet back and grinning widely. “We couldn’t even get close before,” he said. “You really are the dog lady, aren’t you?”
Robin just shook her head and focused on the dog, but she couldn’t keep a smile off her face. “Dr. Jan can fix up his leg. Do you think you can carry him to my car?”
Cliff was gentle as he felt the dog’s leg, but it yelped anyway. “Might be broken,” he said. “We need—oh, thanks, Uncle Phil. Perfect.” He took an old saddle pad from Mr. Jackson and carefully eased the dog onto it. “What do you say, boy? Would you like to go get fixed up?” They headed back, and he turned to Robin. “I can go with you. You’ll need someone to hold him in the car.”
“Sure, that would be a big help.” She forced herself to keep this smile on the inside. Cliff might be cute, but guys like him were never interested in her.
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The McCormick’s Creek Series
Trusting His Heart (#1)
Finding Her Heart (#2)
Safe in His Heart (#3)
About the Author
Jen Peters loves falling in love—the look in his eyes that makes her feel pretty, the whispers on the phone at night, the gentleness of his kiss, the security in his arms. She was lucky enough to marry her sweetheart all those years ago, and he continues to sweep her off her feet.
Whether reading or writing, Jen loves escaping into a romantic story to experience it all over again, especially when remodeling their homes gets a little overwhelming. They don’t live in Oregon anymore, but there are other mountain paths to hike, and an opinionated Cavalier named Bailey reminds her not to take life too seriously.
Learn more about Jen Peters by visiting
https://jenpetersauthor.com
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