by Janet Dailey
Then Barbara saw them, first the dark hides of bunched cattle followed by three riders. There were thirty or so cows with an apparently equal number of calves. As they rode closer, she noticed the dark blue gray dogs trotting near the cattle, racing up now and then to nip at any that showed an inclination to stray. One rider separated himself from the others and rode out to meet the group.
Jock reined in the gray. "Hello, Clint. How's it going?"
"You know how it is." The big, stocky man shrugged. "With some, it's hide-and-seek. Hello, Todd." He leaned forward to shake hands. "Sorry I missed your party the other night."
"That's all right. It's good to see you again, Clint." Todd smiled and motioned to Barbara. "This is my fiancée, Barbara Haynes. Jock's foreman, Clint Darby."
"I am pleased to meet you, Miss Haynes." He tipped his hat to her, dark hair pressed flat beneath the hatband.
"Same here." She nodded back in acknowledgement.
"Jock tells me you're getting your first look at a roundup," the foreman stated.
"Yes, that's right."
"You'll find most of the excitement is over where Al, Rick, Jessie and Bob are working the trees," he explained and glanced at Jock. "We're moving this bunch to the working pens."
"We'll see you there later on." Jock lifted his hand in a half salute and reined the gray horse away. His backward glance indicated Todd and Barbara were to follow him.
With a wave to the foreman, they turned their horses after the iron-gray horse. Cutting behind the herd, they rode toward the stand of trees growing thickly along the edge of the meadow. Dark outlines of horses and riders moved in a backdrop of dark trunks. The riders were working close to the fence line, driving what animals they found toward the open field.
Most of the cows and their calves moved in the direction the cowboys herded them, but occasionally one would object. Barbara was surprised by the swiftness and agility of the placid-looking animals. The wayward creature would dodge, cut and feint, changing speeds and directions with an ease surprising in an animal of its size and weight. When it was unable to elude the cowboy, it would turn and trot like a plodding elephant.
"We'll keep the cows bunched in the open for the boys," Jock stated.
The cows and calves were already ambling along in the right direction. The sun threw the shade of the trees onto the grass. Walking in their shadows, Barbara soon became aware of the oppressive subtropical climate, the muggy heat baking into her. This far inland, there was no sea breeze from the Atlantic or the Gulf of Mexico, which usually cooled the coastal plains of the peninsular state.
She felt the perspiration gathering between her shoulder blades and under her arms, rivulets running from her collarbone down between her breasts. She longed to trot her horse and stir the air, but she kept it at a walking pace behind the slow-moving cattle, driving them on to a destination only Jock knew. Barbara wiped at the perspiration on her neck and shook it from her fingers.
"It's hot work," commented Jock, observing her action.
"I'm not complaining," she insisted stiffly.
"If it was any hotter out here, you could fry eggs," Todd remarked.
Jock signaled to the riders flushing out the cattle in the trees. Three rode out to take their place, a fourth remaining at his work. With a wave of his hand, Jock motioned for Todd and Barbara to come with him. The chestnut broke into a trot and Barbara felt the blessed stirring of still air.
"Just give your horse its head when you see a cow. It will know what to do," Jock instructed.
Fanning out, the three worked their way among the trees. Jock and the fourth cowboy worked the cows they found. An old black cow appeared to submit to Jock's herding into the open without complaint. The instant it was past Barbara, it whirled on a dime and attempted to race through the riders back to the trees. The chestnut pivoted to give chase with no command from Barbara. She kept her balance, gripping the saddle horn and hugging her legs tight to the stirrup leather.
When the agile horse blocked it from slipping through, the cow changed direction and raced for the open field. Barbara raced after it, hearing the thudding of galloping hooves following her. She spared a lightning glance over her shoulder to see Jock in pursuit of the cow, as well, the big gray horse seeming to be stretched out flat.
In the open meadow, the cow began a wide circle to get back to the trees. The air whipped at Barbara's face, billowing her blouse behind her. She didn't take her eyes from the cow's black hide, trusting her horse to avoid any holes or ruts in the thick grass. When she turned the cow away from the trees, there was a wild, exhilarating feeling of success. Jock was at her side to keep it heading in the right direction. When the cow broke into a run, it was to join the small bunch.
Slowing the chestnut, Barbara leaned forward to pat its sweating neck. The wild ride had left her breathless and elated. She laughed from the sheer stimulation of the experience.
"That was exciting!" Her eyes sparkled and danced with brilliant blue lights.
"You have the makings of a real cow hunter if you stay around awhile longer." The flashing white of his smile was warm and vital, sharing her enthusiasm for the ride and unmarred by cynicism or mockery.
Danger signals went off. Jock's potent charm tugged painfully at her heartstrings. But she had danced to its tune before and paid the price. She resisted its magnetic pull, turning away, her own smile fading into nothing.
"But I'm not staying longer. Todd and I are leaving at the end of the week." Barbara deliberately coupled her name with Todd's in her reminder.
His hand reached out to grip the reins ahead of her hold and check her mount. "You won't admit it yet, will you?" Jock demanded stiffly. "You still won't see that Todd isn't for you."
"No, I don't see that," she retorted. "But even if he isn't, I'm sure about one thing—neither are you!" She jammed her heels into the chestnut's sides and sent it leaping free of Jock's restraining grip.
Once loose, Barbara didn't attempt to outrace the superior speed of the gray horse, but slowed her mount to a sedate canter. She rode toward the trees to rejoin Todd. When Jock drew alongside, she didn't alter her course and he didn't attempt to sidetrack her.
"Still all in one piece after that hair-raising ride?" Todd joked when she reined in beside him, seeking the protection of his company.
"Where were you?" Barbara forced a casual smile on her face. "I thought you'd come, too."
"Are you kidding?" he laughed. "You can go racing at that breakneck speed, but I know my limitations."
"It was fun." Because it had been, even if the confrontation with Jock had not been.
"But it isn't my kind of fun," Todd replied without apology and smiled.
After combing that section of fence line and woods, they had banded together a small herd of cows and calves. They drove them to the working pens, near the road where all the trucks and trailers were parked. They arrived at the noontime break.
Going home for lunch was impractical for the cowboys, considering the distances involved on the ranch. A meal of hot stew and sandwiches was served out of the back of a pickup truck along with gallons of black coffee. There was also an insulated cask of drinking water.
"Drink plenty of water," Jock advised, "to replace what you lost out there in the sun." His gaze raked Barbara, noting the way perspiration had plastered her blouse to her curves. "Even though coffee is liquid, it isn't as effective as plain water."
Unnerved by his penetrating look, her reply was cool. Even without his advice, Barbara wouldn't have visited the water keg to slake her parched throat in a hurry. She said as much, but his comment did remind her that the possibility of heatstroke was not something to dismiss lightly. So she drank plenty of water as she had been ordered.
Todd picked out a place in the shade where they could eat their lunch. Jock didn't join them, having his meal with the men. It was a scene permeated with the noise of bawling calves and male voices, and the smell of animal sweat and another faintly obnoxious odor.<
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Finished with his meal, Todd leaned against a tree trunk with a contented sigh. Barbara removed her hat and ran her fingers through her long black curls to let the air reach her damp scalp. She glanced at the group of cowboys, standing around drinking coffee before returning to their work.
Jock was among them, standing tall and wide legged. He easily stood out in the group of men, although he dressed no different from them. It had always been that way, but Barbara had assumed it was his striking male looks. Studying him, she realized it was his easy air of command: authority was bred into every bone. His very air demanded notice. He didn't have to shout to make himself heard. People automatically listened when he spoke.
"This is J.R.'s milieu; it's his bailiwick, not mine," Todd remarked. "It's a good thing this ranch is his. All this rugged outdoor life isn't for me. Give me silks and satins and diamonds anytime. What about you?" His gaze slid with absent curiosity to Barbara.
"Diamonds and furs aren't exactly my line. My needs are much simpler, but I like my comfort," she admitted. "So does Jock," she added unconsciously.
"Yes, but he's in his element here."
Barbara couldn't have agreed more. Jock embraced the challenge of running this vast holding, of dealing with the vagaries of nature and its whims. While Todd's position as hotel owner was comparable in power and prestige to Jock's, he didn't have to combat disease, drought and the land.
Trying to compare the two brothers was impossible. An apple couldn't be likened to an orange, even though they were both fruit. In the final analysis it came down to personal preference. Barbara sighed and drank more water. It was probably just as well there weren't many similarities between them. She wouldn't want to look at Todd and imagine Jock.
The groaning creak of saddle leather signaled that the men were riding out. Barbara looked up as Jock approached their shaded spot. The touch of his gold brown eyes had her stomach muscles tensing.
"Do you want a closer look at the operation from this end, after the cows have been rounded up?" He directed his question at her.
Barbara realized that Todd was probably familiar with all of this. "Yes, I would like that." Picking up her hat, she pushed to her feet and glanced at Todd, expecting him to do the same.
Instead, he settled more comfortably in his position against the tree. "You go ahead. What breeze we have is blowing away from me toward the pens. I'd just as soon leave the stench over there," he smiled.
"Ready?" Jock prompted.
Barbara hesitated, but she could hardly refuse to go with him now. Besides, she was interested in seeing it even if Todd wasn't.
"Sure," she agreed and started forward, carrying her hat.
Jock matched his stride with the length of hers to walk at her side as they crossed the grassy space to the iron pens of metal pipe. Activity had already begun inside it, animals milling as a horse and rider entered their midst, cowboys moving about within the confines and outside of it. Barbara paused at the horizontal bars.
"Once they are inside the working pens, we separate the calves from the cows," Jock explained.
It wasn't a situation that pleased either the cow or the calf. The horse and rider didn't give either an option and Barbara was reminded of the cutting-horse competition she had watched at the arena. There, it had been an exhibition of skill. Here, that skill was being put to practical use as the calves were cut out and herded into a narrow corral. The bawling cries of the confused and frightened calves were answered by the frantic lowing of their mothers.
"From the calf corral—" Jock walked toward it and Barbara followed him "—the calves are put into that chute one at a time. The chute is called a 'turn-over' for the obvious reason that once a calf is locked inside, the chute 'turns over' to make an operating table." Barbara watched the procedure as he explained it. "The calf is inoculated, dehorned with those pinchers and receives an identifying earmark; the bull calves are castrated, and all are branded."
The branding iron was typical of the ones she'd seen in Western movies. In this case, there was a scrolled S at the end of the iron rod, the Sandoval brand she had noticed on the hips of the cows. Instead of the traditional campfire heating the iron to a red-hot color, a butane torch was used. She heard the iron sizzle as it was pushed on the calf's hip and smelled the acrid stench of burning hair and hide. She half turned away from the unpleasant smell. Once branded, the calf was released to return to its mother and the next calf was loaded into the chute.
"With the turnover we can handle an average of fifty calves an hour. When we had to rope them and stretch them out on the ground, we were lucky to do that many in half a day. Thanks to the chute, it's a smooth, efficient operation with less wear and tear on the calves and the men. It's known as progress—" his gaze rested on her face and his voice lowered in volume and tone "—which is something you and I aren't making."
Barbara stiffened at the unexpected injection of a personal reference. "We aren't making any progress because I'm engaged to Todd," she flashed in defiance and continued to stare at the calf corral.
"You aren't in love with him," Jock accused. The butt of a rawhide whip was laid against her cheek to turn her to face him. "You couldn't be in love with him and respond the way you do to me. And you do respond, Barbara. I know the way your pulse beats so rapidly in your throat when I kiss you…the same way it's doing now." His gaze flicked pointedly to the hollow of her throat. "I've heard the kitten sighs you make in your throat when I'm loving you, sounds I don't think you are even aware you make. But you do. It's useless to deny it."
"I don't deny it." How could she? But Barbara managed to keep the rising tide of emotion in check, despite the subtle seductive quality in his voice. "Sex was always good between us. But you are a master at arousing a woman to her fullest desires. Don't pretend that I'm the first woman who has responded so completely to you. Your technique is excellent."
Her reply made him impatient. She could see it in the thinning line of his mouth. Jock wasn't touching her, except with that rawhide-wrapped handle of the whip, but he stood so close she could feel his body heat.
"I never implied that you were the first or only woman I had made love to," he said thinly.
That stabbed. She was just one of many, part of his stable he kept around for his amusement. But she wasn't going to be available to him every time he snapped his fingers.
"When we split up, you suggested that we might become friends. At the time, I refused because I didn't have any intention of ever seeing you again," Barbara declared in a taut, strained voice. "But since I'm marrying your brother, it might be the practical solution. It was your idea. Maybe you should consider it again."
Turning on her heel, she walked away from him. She had taken less than a half a dozen steps when something made a swooshing sound in the air near her and a strap began wrapping itself around her waist. It took a second to realize it was his whip coiling around her with hardly a sting to its touch.
With it wrapped tightly around her waist, Jock yanked her toward him while walking to meet her, not allowing any slack in the whip. She could see the anger flaming in his brown eyes, but she was angry, too.
"You enjoy making a scene, don't you?" Barbara flared.
"Don't walk away from me, Barbara," he threatened in a savage underbreath. "Don't ever walk away from me again."
"Or else what, Jock?" she taunted him. "What will you do?"
His hard features were almost hauntingly grim. "Don't push me, woman," Jock warned huskily and released the tension on the whip so that it fell loose from her waist.
There was a rawness to his look that made Barbara turn away. Jock didn't try to stop her this time when she started toward the tree Todd was sitting beneath. He had dozed off, wakening when she slumped to the ground beside him. Barbara began to think Todd was like the three monkeys. He never seemed to see, hear or say anything wrong.
Todd noted her pale face and commented, "The smell of those pens gets to you, doesn't it? Now you know why I di
dn't go over there."
"Yes," she murmured.
"Want to ride? Get some fresh air after all that stench of burning hide?" He straightened from the tree, flexing his shoulders.
"Why not?" Barbara shrugged, not wanting to stay in Jock's vicinity.
It was late afternoon before lock found them and suggested they should load the horses up to start for the house. As they rode to the horse trailer, his eyes kept seeking hers, but Barbara avoided them. For some reason she felt very vulnerable and didn't know why. Again she sat on the outside by the window, using Todd as a buffer and keeping out of the conversation.
Chapter Ten
BARBARA LAY IN HER BED, unable to sleep. After the previous day's riding and the restless night before, she had expected to tumble into an exhausted sleep tonight. Instead, her thoughts kept twisting and turning in her mind, chasing away sleep.
Rolling over, she looked at her watch on the bedside table. In the dim moonlight glowing through the balcony doors, she saw it was after midnight. Giving up, Barbara tossed the bed covers aside and climbed out of the bed. The softness of the night called her to the balcony.
The air was warm and languid so Barbara didn't bother with the robe lying on the foot of her bed. She pushed open the doors to her private balcony and stepped outside. A crescent moon seemed to look down on her with a half-closed sleepy eye. Barbara sighed in envy and wandered to the iron-lace railing.
Stars littered the velvet black sky and a faint breeze whispered in the moss-draped trees. The balcony overlooked the rear lawn on the opposite side of the house from the veranda. A night bird sang somewhere in the trees and Barbara unconsciously searched for the feathered creature sharing the night with her.
She leaned over the iron railing, staring at the thick branches. Her side vision caught a flicker of movement in the trees, but when she tried to focus on it, she saw nothing. It was so dark within the shadows of those trees that it was unlikely she could distinguish any shape.
