The Devil's Cowboy

by Kallista Dane

  Ellen had never spent a day on a working ranch but she was sure that jeans were the appropriate attire. She dug in her suitcase and pulled out a pair along with a soft cotton shirt that buttoned down the front. Rafe watched her dress, his eyes hungry.

  “I hate to see you cover up that beautiful body, darlin’. Maybe we’ll have to do a little skinny dippin’ in the creek later on.”

  “That sounds like fun. I’ve never been skinny dipping,” Ellen confessed.

  “Well, you’re havin’ all kinds of firsts, aren’t you?” His tone was casual but his lingering caress of her bottom through the tight jeans made her blush with shame at the memory of how she’d writhed against him as his finger explored the tight opening of her virgin ass.

  He grinned and Ellen realized he’d read her mind again. “Yes, ma’am, that’s exactly what I was meanin.’ But if we both don’t quit reminiscin’ about last night, we’ll never get out of here.” He stretched out a hand and this time Ellen took it willingly.

  “Come on, darlin.’ If we hurry, we might get Jeb to rustle up some grub for us before he heads out to the stable. I don’t know about you, but I could do with a stack of hotcakes and a big mug of cowboy coffee.”

  “What’s cowboy coffee?” she asked as Rafe started the engine of the truck.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” he replied with a wink.

  She closed her eyes and turned her face to the morning sun as the pickup left the city behind and sped along the highway. The drive to the ranch seemed shorter this time. Or maybe it was just that she was aware of every fleeting moment, determined to enjoy this day to the fullest. She was spending it with her lover. This smart, funny, incredibly sexy man who’d suddenly appeared in her life. A man who could see into her mind and seemed determined to make every wicked fantasy she’d ever imagined come true. Ellen was happier at that moment than she’d ever been. She vowed to put aside all her worries and fears about what the future might hold for them and simply let the day unfold.

  Later, as she savored a cup of the smoothest coffee she’d ever tasted, she listened as Jeb explained the brewing process.

  “First ya fill yer pot with cold water and bring ‘er to a full boil,” he said, pouring a cup for Rafe as he spoke. The battered gray metal coffeepot Jeb held looked as though it had spent countless hours over an open fire. “Then, ya turn off the heat and dump in yer grounds—straight inta the water. Ya stir it up a little, let the grounds settle a bit, then crack an egg or maybe two, dependin’ on the size of yer pot, and drop the whole thing inta the water, shell and all. Let it sit fer a spell and then pour yerself the best cup of coffee ya’ve ever had. Them eggshells absorb all the acid in the coffee and when the egg settles on the bottom, it draws down the grounds, makin’ it easier ta pour. Course, if yer out on the range and you ain’t got any eggs handy, you kin just filter it through one a’ yer socks, like we did in the old days.” His eyes twinkled and Ellen realized he was enjoying having a greenhorn around who would buy into his yarns.

  He set a huge stack of pancakes on the table and Ellen suddenly realized she was starving. She dug in, sighing as she dipped one of the hotcakes into a river of maple syrup, then chewed and swallowed. He laid a platter of bacon and sausage beside the pancakes.

  “Jeb, I think I’m in love,” she said. “Can I smuggle you into my suitcase and bring you home to make me breakfast every morning?”

  “Ah would shorely love ta feed y’all every day,” he said, smiling. “Ah enjoy cookin’ fer someone who appreciates food. Yer not like some a’ them skinny women nowadays who’re afraid to put a decent meal in their stomachs. But ah’d miss the folks here and the open range. Ah couldn’t live in a city.”

  “It’s not really a city—more like a bigger version of a small town, with quirky little neighborhoods here and there. Besides, you’d love the landscape around Asheville,” she replied. “Once you get outside of town, everything is green. Beautiful shades of green as far as the eye can see, getting darker as the land rises up into hills and then even higher, into mountains—all of it blending into a smoky purplish blue miles away where it meets the horizon. It’s that unusual color that gave them their name—the Blue Ridge Mountains. And there’s lots of wildlife. Herds of deer and wild turkeys everywhere. Once in a while, you’ll even see an eagle soaring overhead.”

  Rafe watched her as he sipped his coffee. “You really love those mountains. Is that where you grew up?”

  “No, I lived in a suburb in Illinois, near Chicago. The only wildlife I ever saw was the occasional bunny snacking on a patch of clover in the lawn outside my bedroom window.”

  “Well, you’ll no doubt see some wildlife today,” he announced. “Ready for the tour?”

  Ellen speared the last bit of sausage on her plate and nodded her head. “Now I am.”

  Rafe headed for the door with Ellen trailing after him.

  “Don’t fergit this,” Jeb called out, waving a bag. “After seein’ how Miss Ellen here enjoys her food, ah packed y’all some lunch. You kin work up quite an appetite out on the open range,” he added.

  “Thank you, Jeb. If your lunch is anything like your breakfast and that chili and cornbread dinner last night, I’m sure I’m going to love it.” Ellen took the bag and gave Jeb an impulsive kiss on the cheek.

  The old man grinned and leaned in to whisper something in her ear.

  “What was that all about?” Rafe asked as they headed for the barn.

  “Jeb said he was glad you’d brought me to the ranch. He told me to see to it that you have a good time today because you work too hard.”

  Rafe turned and gave her that wicked smile that sent her heart racing. “Oh, I intend to have a very good time today—and I guarantee you will too.”

  Chapter Eight

  They headed for the barn, where Rafe introduced her to Sariel, his coal black stallion.

  “That’s an unusual name,” she remarked as she stroked the horse’s head. Sariel whinnied softly and nuzzled into her hand.

  “All my horses are named after angels. Didn’t necessarily do it on purpose—just seemed to turn out that way. Guess it kinda fits, seein’ the ranch is called Angel Fire. Sariel here—he’s named for one of the mighty archangels, the angel in charge of the spirits of the children of mankind. This horse has a special way with the battered bodies and souls of the little ones who come here. He looks strong and mean but he’s gentle as can be with those kids. Oh, he’ll toss a grown man off his back and then stare at him down on the ground with an evil glint in his eye, but let a little girl come near him and he’s sweet as a kitten.”

  Ellen melted as the horse gently butted her with his head. “I swear he’s communicating with me,” she said in wonder. “Not with words, but I’m getting feelings and images in my mind—images of running free across miles and miles of open land, filled with a kind of joy.”

  Rafe nodded. “He likes you. And yes, he’s communicating with you, tellin’ you what it’s like to ride the range. He talks to me too in his own way—done it for years. Plenty of people who aren’t psychic say they feel a special bond with some horses. Animals are capable of deep emotions—love and caring, happiness and sorrow. I wish more people believed that. Maybe they’d treat ‘em better.”

  Ellen watched as an old hound made his way painfully to his feet from a corner of the barn and came over to rest his head against Rafe’s leg. He bent and petted the creature, speaking softly and rubbing between his ears.

  “This old feller got left behind when some folks down the road lost their ranch a few years back. They had to move to a shelter in the city and couldn’t take him along. I didn’t know about it until he made his way here, half-starved and grievin’ the loss of the only family he’d ever known. He’d wandered away before they could find a home for him, been attacked by some wild animal and was in pretty bad shape. We nursed him back to health as best we could, but he’s gettin’ old. He’s great with the kids, too, just like Sariel.”

  Elle
n’s eyes filled with tears as she remembered a saying her father had always quoted. “There is nothing as strong as pure gentleness and nothing as gentle as pure strength,” she repeated under her breath.

  Rafe turned to her and smiled. “I like that. Did you write it?”

  “No, it’s something my dad told me a long time ago—about how to know when I’ve found a real man. He said a truly strong man isn’t afraid to be gentle. I see you with the children, the animals… you’re so soft with them, so kind. But I’m willing to bet you can be one tough S.O.B. when you need to.”

  “Well, they don’t call me the Devil’s Cowboy for nothin’,” Rafe grinned. “Come on, let’s get you saddled up. I think you’ll like Cassiel—she’s easy-goin’, won’t give you any trouble.” He sized her up. “I’m guessin’ you don’t have a whole lot of experience ridin’ a horse?”

  “Try none at all.” She stared at the big golden mare Rafe led her to with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. She’d be damned if she’d let Rafe know just how much of a sissy she was. “Cassiel,” she whispered softly. The mare turned her head. “She knows her name!” Ellen cried out in surprise.

  “‘Course she does,” Rafe replied. “Horses are very intelligent, and mine all seem to have special gifts to boot. Cassiel here seems to know just how to handle her rider. She’s the gentlest I’ve ever seen with someone who doesn’t have a lot of experience on a horse.”

  “Where did you get the name Cassiel?”

  “I don’t really remember. It just came to me when I first saw her. Truth be told, I think she told me her name herself, the same way Sariel talked to you earlier. I looked it up later—turns out it’s the name given to another angel in ancient scriptures.”

  He led both horses out of the barn and helped her mount. After a few turns around the corral and some basic instructions, he reached down to open the gate and they headed out across the open range.

  It was nothing like Ellen had ever experienced before. Rafe was right. Her horse seemed to know she was a newbie and Sariel kept his pace slow and easy as well, staying with her, looking sideways at her occasionally with those all-knowing huge brown eyes, as though making sure she was all right. Before long, she relaxed and Rafe picked up the pace. Sun on her face, wind in her hair, Ellen began singing every cowboy song she’d ever heard at the top of her lungs, switching from one to another whenever she ran out of words.

  “Next time, I’ll bring my guitar and we can have a campfire and a sing-along,” Rafe laughed.

  “Now I understand what Sariel was trying to tell me,” she bubbled. “There’s nothing like this—it’s total freedom. The space is so vast, the earth and sky go on forever out here. It feels like the entire world is spread out in front of us. I could ride like this for days.”

  “Easy, darlin’. You’re feelin’ great now, but you’ll have some sore muscles tonight, ones you’re not used to usin’. We’ll take a break soon. I need to check on the fences up ahead and see to the herd. Jeb said he heard some coyotes howlin’ pretty close by last night. I want to make sure they haven’t gotten a hold a’ one of the calves.”

  Ellen caught a glimpse of several cows in the distance and gasped. “Longhorns! I’ve only seen them in books and on TV.”

  “They’re hardy creatures. All the longhorns you see today are descendants of cattle the Spaniards brought to the New World back in the late 1400s and early 1500s. Forget the Mayflower. These fellas have roots that go back a whole lot further.”

  “Are they dangerous?” She eyed the enormous spread of the horns on a lone animal ambling toward them. “Just how big do those horns get?”

  “Biggest on record so far is just a mite over eight feet from tip to tip. Longhorn cattle are gentle around people, but those horns are capable of inflicting some real damage if a critter goes after one a’ their calves. Still, a calf could’ve gotten hurt before momma got to it. That’s why I’m out here today.”

  Rafe reined in Sariel and dropped to the ground, looping the reins loosely around the pommel of his saddle. “He’ll stay right here and keep Cassiel with him,” he explained, lifting Ellen off her horse. She wobbled a bit, legs unsteady, and he laughed again as he steadied her. “Feels a little like gettin’ off a boat, doesn’t it? Takes some gettin’ used to.”

  He headed for one of the calves, ran his hands expertly down its legs and flank in one fluid motion. “This one’s fine,” he called out. Nervous, Ellen watched from a distance as he made his way through a scattered handful of cattle, stopping here and there.

  “How many cows do you have?”

  “‘Bout a hundred, spread out all over the ranch. They pretty much take care ‘a themselves. They’re a hardy breed. That’s why the longhorns are so popular here in Texas. They can handle drought, floods, heat, and cold—anythin’ nature sees fit to dole out. Plus they’ll eat a wide variety of plants and they rarely get sick. We raise them without all those antibiotics other cows have to have to survive, so the meat is much healthier for folks to eat.

  “Jeb is on the north range, seein’ to the cattle there, and Steven rode out east, so between us we’ll have checked on the whole herd today,” he went on.

  They mounted up and repeated the process several times, riding along the fence line in between. Twice Rafe stopped to mend the barbed wire fence, donning a pair of thick leather gloves he pulled out of his saddlebag, along with a coil of dangerously sharp wire. Ellen watched, fascinated. She felt like she was living in an episode of a TV Western, only this one was in color rather than black and white.

  But these colors were very different from the lush greens she was used to seeing back home in the mountains. Here the plants seemed to come in subtle shades of gray-green against a backdrop of earth tones—everything from pale sand beige to the faded ochre streaks in outcroppings of rock to the dull reddish brown dirt underfoot, all arrayed beneath a sky so brilliantly blue it was almost surreal. There was a different kind of beauty here—stark and stripped down, the difference between an English drawing room filled with chintz and delicate figurines and a stucco dwelling in the desert sparsely decorated in a palette of neutrals. Like carefully chosen treasures, the hardy plants and occasional boulders scattered here and there stood out sharply against earth and sky.

  Although they rode all morning, they never saw the other ranchers or any manmade structure for that matter. Ellen was a little overwhelmed at the vast expanses of raw land. She’d never been so far from civilization. There wasn’t a mall or a Walmart or even a Starbucks anywhere in sight. She suffered a moment of panic. What if something happened to Rafe while they were out here? She’d be no help to him. She had no idea which direction to head to get back to the ranch. He could be bitten by a rattler while he stomped around checking on the cattle and the fences and they’d both end up dying out here, alone in the wilderness.

  Rafe was about twenty yards away, crouched on his knees, twisting together a section of barbed wire with a pair of pliers. He looked up suddenly. “Are you all right?” he called out.

  Ellen swore silently. She’d forgotten how attuned he was to her mind, her thoughts. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was a scared city slicker who couldn’t handle herself out on the range. “Fine,” she yelled back, forcing herself to sound cheerful.

  He finished the chore and strolled back. She couldn’t help thinking how at home he looked here—lean and tanned, striding along in this alien landscape in his elegantly scruffy cowboy boots and battered Stetson. It made her feel even more inadequate, more out of her element.

  He took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. Ellen fervently hoped that the anxiety she felt didn’t show.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly, reading her fears. “It’s a big place—everything’s different from what you’re used to seein’. But you’re safe here. Safer than in the city, long as you pay attention to what’s around you. The horses will sense any danger long before you will. They’ll let you know it’s time to move on. Now
that you know Sariel can communicate with you, trust him. That horse knows his way home better’n I do. If anything should ever happen to me, just give him his head. He’ll lead you right back to the stable.” He patted the gun at his hip. “There isn’t a single critter out here that will harm you, long as you stick close to Sariel and me.”

  He drew her into his arms for a long, lingering kiss. “Now that I’ve found you, I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Now, how ‘bout we head to the creek and see what Jeb packed in our picnic sack?”

  “That sounds marvelous. All this fresh air and exercise has left me starving. I’ve worked up quite an appetite watching you work,” she teased.

  “I’ve worked up quite an appetite myself… watchin’ this tight little bottom bouncin’ up and down on Cassiel’s back all mornin’,” he replied with a lecherous grin. He followed up with a forceful squeeze of said bottom as he lifted it back up onto her mount.

  She blushed again, and then realized she’d never had her cheeks redden so often in her life.

  “I love seein’ those cheeks get nice and red.” Rafe glanced over at her as he swung easily into the saddle.

  “Those aren’t the cheeks I was thinking of,” she protested, indignant. “If you’re going to read my mind, at least do it accurately.”

  “Oh, I know what you were thinkin’. But it’s reddenin’ the cute li’l cheeks of your ass that I was thinkin’ of,” he replied, not at all chastened.

  She laughed in spite of her embarrassment. It was a real thrill to have a man put her naughtiest fantasies into words, right out in the open. She’d never been able to admit what she saw as her kinky craving to be spanked to anyone before. But not only did Rafe know her hidden secret, he even seemed to enjoy the idea of spanking her as much as she loved the thought of being draped across his strong thighs with her naked bottom in the air.