by Susan Fox
Rio made her way to the den, her nerves stretching tight as she was forced to face Kane privately. Why had he kissed her, why had he even touched her? Since it would never happen again, she’d rather not have known precisely what it was like to be in his arms at the mercy of what his mouth could do to hers. And she’d handed him a very painful means to torment her, if he chose. Because of that torrid kiss, she no longer had any secrets from Kane that mattered.
She slowed her step as she reached the den, then knocked softly on the open door before she walked in. Kane sat at his desk, shuffling through a stack of invoices. He didn’t look up, didn’t offer any pleasantry, but got straight to the point.
“After the bull’s delivered in the morning, you can make the circuit of line shacks and cow camps. Take a cell phone and enough clothes to last you a few days.”
Rio stiffened. Normally, checking the line shacks and cow camps for repairs and restocking their supplies was a days-long chore she might have welcomed with Ramona coming home. Now that Sam was so ill, she didn’t intend to absent herself from the main house for longer than a handful of hours at a time.
Telling Kane that, however, meant she’d be refusing an order. Her presence at the house for the duration of Ramona and Tracy’s stay also meant increased tension for them all, but for Kane in particular who usually went out of his way to make their visit as pleasant as possible.
Rio cleared her throat quietly, aware that Kane had yet to look up and that his ongoing perusal of invoices meant she’d been dismissed. Her soft, “I can’t do it now,” was met with as much surprise as she’d expected.
Kane stilled, his blue eyes rising to hers and going hard. “Why not?”
“Sam’s…” Rio hesitated, lifted one shoulder, loathe to put anything’ pessimistic about Sam into words. “He’s a little frail right now. I want to stay close.”
Kane tossed the papers aside. “Did it ever occur to you that Ramona might not want to have you hovering? She might want to have Sam to herself.”
His criticism stung. But then, most things Kane said to her did. On the other hand, Ramona could seem to do no wrong where Kane was concerned. The yearslong frustration of being a target of Kane’s disapproval while he turned a blind eye to Ramona’s persistent lack of interest in her husband or his health was suddenly sharp.
But Rio knew better than to breathe a word of criticism about Sam’s wife. Her chin came up a fraction and her lips thinned into a cynical line. “Ramona can have Sam to herself as much as she likes. Besides, I haven’t seen Tracy for a long time.”
“And Ramona likes it that way,” he stated with brutal candor.
Rio. glanced away from his harsh expression, suddenly weary. Maybe she had stayed on Langtry years longer than she should have. It didn’t seem to matter to anyone but Sam that she’d spent that time working hard, laboring to repay all his kindnesses. To everyone else, she was still an outsider, an intruder who’d lucked into a fine, rich home that she hadn’t deserved.
Bitterness and pride brought her gaze back to meet Kane’s as she quietly asserted, “As long as Sam’s alive, no one’s going to chase me off, Kane. You and Ramona should know that by now.”
Kane leaned back in his chair, his blue gaze cutting over her. “I don’t want Sam upset.”
Rio nodded. “Be sure you tell Ramona the same.”
From the flare of annoyance in Kane’s eyes, she knew he still considered her the only one responsible for the friction between her and Ramona. Ramona had never had to be particularly clever to achieve that impression, not when Kane was so willing to see Rio as the antagonist.
The reminder sent Rio’s spirits lower. Kane would never see the witch beneath Ramona’s startling beauty and Southern belle facade. Just as he would never credit Rio with being anything more than Ned Cory’s daughter.
She gave him a grim twist of lips that acknowledged the unhappy fact, then turned and left the room with brittle dignity.
Rio whipped off her dark Stetson and ran the back of her wrist sleeve across her damp forehead. She put the hat back on and yanked it down snugly as she watched the back end of the stock trailer roll toward her again.
Her quick, “Slow it down, cowboy!” was loud enough to be heard by the driver, as was her curt, “A little to the left.”
The driver of the supercab pickup towing the trailer reacted just as insolently to her directions as he had for the past five minutes. She bit back a swear word as the trailer again went too far to the right to line up with the narrow alley that would channel the bull toward the corral she had selected for him. That the trailer was still moving too fast to stop until it slammed into the far side fence post was just one more aggravation on a hot Texas morning full of aggravations.
The hooves of the startled bull inside the trailer hit the door like a cannon volley. Incensed, Rio started for the driver’s side door of the truck.
The wide, fleshy face with a half-burned cigar stuck in its thick lips grinned out at her with more than a hint of mockery. “Sorry there, boss lady. You aren’t too good at givin’ directions, are ya? Maybe one of yer men could do better.”
The enraged bull inside the trailer was rocking both it and the pickup in his effort to break out. If he injured himself, there’d be hell to pay, and Kane would hold her responsible.
Rio reached up and yanked open the door. Her sudden move was enough to startle the grin off the cowboy’s sweaty face. “Step out or move aside.” She lifted a boot to the running board of the big pickup to indicate not only her preference but her hurry. “One or the other, cowboy, or you’ll be hauling that bull back.”
“Ain’t no one but me drivin’ this truck.” The sweaty cowboy sounded more like a whiny child than a man.
Rio’s brisk, “Suit yourself,” and her step off the running board was punctuated by a tight, “Give Mr. Cameron my regards, and tell him Langtry Ranch regrets we couldn’t take delivery.”
“Now hold on—” the cowboy called out as Rio walked away. She stopped and looked back at him.
“Out or over.” Her firm tone brought a petulant frown to the fleshy face, but the cowboy bit down on his cigar and wallowed to the middle of the bench seat.
Rio was behind the wheel in an instant, taking a second to check the side mirrors before she slipped the truck into gear and started it forward a few feet. The bull was too stirred up now to waste another moment. As she stopped the pickup and shifted it smoothly into reverse, she gave every impression of being unaware of the sweaty cowboy who’d moved over only far enough for her to sit. She pretended not to notice that her right arm brushed his as she listened to one of the Langtry ranch hands direct her until she’d backed the stock trailer into position. She switched off the engine and was out the door so quickly that she’d spent a bit more than a minute behind the wheel.
Once out of the truck, she hurried to the back of the trailer. Two Langtry hands were pulling out the trailer ramp. The bull inside bellowed, and the sound seemed to make the trailer shiver. A heavy hoof pawed viciously at the trailer floor.
Rio climbed up the side of the board fence alley next to Boz, one of the older cowhands, and hooked a leg over the top rail.
“You want us to take that dumb sonofabuck out behind the barn and beat some manners into him, Miss Rio?”
Rio let out a tense breath and flashed the old cowhand a grateful smile. “Sounds good to me, but I think we’ll let it go by this time. Thanks, anyway.” She returned her attention to the back of the trailer.
Once the ramp was out, both cowhands clambered to the top rail of the fence. One gingerly reached down from his high perch. Once he checked to make certain the half dozen cowboys present were atop or behind the fence, he unlatched the heavy door. He’d just given the door a pull that would let it swing open on its own when it suddenly burst wide.
The impact of the bull against the door was like a crack of thunder. Rio started at the sudden boom as did the other ranch hands. Kirby, the man who’d opened the door, ye
lped and recoiled, balancing precariously atop the fence as he tried to cradle his injured hand. One of the men nearby reached over and grabbed the back of his belt to keep him from falling forward.
The bull rocketed out of the back of the trailer, barreling down the narrow alley that angled him toward the gate of an empty corral. The ranch hand at the corral shoved the gate closed the instant the bull passed the opening.
Once inside, the outraged bull ran around the corral, charging anything he could see beyond the rails. Rio jumped down from the fence, but instead of going directly to the corral to check the bull, she hurried toward the injured cowhand.
Kirby had climbed off the fence, and was leaning against it while he cradled his wrist and hand against his middle. His tanned face was pale and it was clear to her that he was in pain.
“I’m sure sorry, Miss Rio. I was either a shade too slow or that bull was three shades too fast.”
Rio touched his wrist and hand with gentle fingers as she carefully examined them. “You did fine, Kirby. But I think your wrist is broken.” She carefully settled his arm back against his middle, then looked up into the young cowhand’s strained features. “We’ll get you some ice and have someone drive you to the hospital. Hank?” Rio turned her head to look for the other young cowhand. Hank started quickly toward them, but Rio redirected him with a brisk, “Would you go down to the cook house for some ice? Have Smitty call the hospital and tell them you’re bringing Kirby in.”
The cowhand ran toward the cook house and Rio turned Kirby over to one of the other men to escort him to the ranch pickup parked under a shade tree in the drive.
From there, she strode toward the corral where the bull was, unconcerned that the cowhand from the Cameron Ranch hovered impatiently by his pickup. She stopped next to Boz, who was shaking his head and swearing beneath his breath.
“Let’s hope that A-bomb on hooves is showing such a sweet disposition because he don’t travel good,” the old cowhand remarked, “or because Cameron’s man stirred him up.”
Rio watched the bull closely, checking for any sign of injury. “Yeah, let’s hope,” she said quietly. Most bulls were volatile and temperamental, but there was something about this bull that made her uneasy. Boz had apparently sensed it, too. On the other hand, Kirby’s injury might be influencing both of them.
Besides, Kane had selected this bull himself. The bull’s superior quality and impressive pedigree would make him an ideal addition to Langtry’s breeding program. If he could be managed, the animal was invaluable.
As if the bull had sensed her misgivings, he shifted directions in the enclosure. In the next moment, he charged straight for her like a steam engine at full throttle. Rio stiffened on her side of the fence, but didn’t move. If the bull was loco enough to challenge the sturdy wood posts and heavy rails of this corral, it was better to know right away.
The last few strides of the huge animal were truly terrifying. Boz stepped aside, as if he didn’t trust the fence would hold against the power of the bull. It was at the last second—when Rio was about to give in to the instinct to jump aside herself—that the big bull slid to a dusty halt a mere hand span from the rails. His huge head went down and he pawed so furiously at the dirt that he made furrows in the hard-packed surface.
The hoots and whistles of the cowhands who’d been watching were as much male admiration for the bull’s bravado as it was relief that he’d shown he would respect a fence.
It wouldn’t have occurred to Rio that the nerve she’d just shown was at least a part of that male admiration. She turned from the fence and walked back to where the cowhand who’d delivered the bull waited.
The cowboy’s insolent expression was back, letting her know that he had no intention of showing a female in authority much respect. Either he didn’t know or it didn’t matter to him that she regularly acted in Kane’s stead concerning Langtry business.
Rio’s authority had been challenged before by cowboys whose egos were too frail to take orders from a woman. Few of them worked on Langtry, and this cowboy worked for someone else.
She forced her mouth into a polite line that wouldn’t be mistaken for a smile. “If Mr. Langtry buys more stock from your boss, volunteer for some other chore and let him send someone more professional to Langtry. Have a safe trip.”
Rio delivered the advice in a mild tone, then walked past the cowhand to check on Kirby. It was well known that Langtry hospitality always included an invitation for a meal or, at the very least, sandwiches and cold drinks or coffee for anyone who came through the front gate. The fact that Rio hadn’t extended that hospitality to the cowboy was a setdown and would be taken as such. Particularly by the cowboy’s employer if he found out.
Rio had just rounded the front of the cowboy’s truck when she saw Kane standing next to the passenger side of the pickup where Kirby waited for Hank to return with some ice. She continued toward him, then gave Kirby a gentle smile as she stopped by the open truck door next to Kane. “How’re you doin’, cowboy?”
“Not bad, Miss Rio,” he answered, and gave her a tight grin.
Rio nodded past them at Hank who was jogging over from the cook house with two large bags of ice and a pair of folded towels. “Hank’s coming right now.”
When Hank reached the truck, Rio wrapped the ice bags in the towels and positioned them carefully around Kirby’s wrist and hand. Kane’s ongoing silence, aside from a few words to Kirby, gave Rio the clear impression that he wasn’t pleased with her.
But then, he could see for himself that the Cameron cowhand was leaving. As they both stepped back and the Langtry pickup pulled away, Rio steeled herself for Kane’s criticism and felt the inevitable dip of her insides when he didn’t keep her waiting.
“You didn’t offer Langtry hospitality to Ty’s man.”
Rio turned to him and lifted her chin in subtle defiance. “It was my decision to make. If you disagree…” Rio hesitated, submission to Kane tasting bitter. “I’ll chase him down and bring him back.”
Kane’s harsh expression didn’t alter, but his blue eyes burned down into hers. “Like hell you will.”
Rio’s lips parted in surprise before she swiftly recovered herself.
Kane glanced away from her and growled, “Disrespect toward you is a challenge of my authority to put you in charge.”
“I appreciate that, Kane,” she said. “Thanks.”
Kane’s gaze streaked back to impale hers. “It doesn’t have a damned thing to do with you.”
Rio’s breath caught at his sudden hostility, but she forced her mouth into a curve that she hoped concealed her dismay. “I’m sure I could figure that out for myself,” she said, then gave him a mock salute as she started to back away. “I’m going up to see if Sam needs anything,” she added, then turned to walk to the house, hoping she could escape before Kane could voice any other unpleasantness.
CHAPTER THREE
RAMONA and Tracy arrived on Langtry at four o’clock that afternoon. They’d flown from Dallas that morning with neighboring rancher, Deke Sanderson, in his private plane, but instead of landing at Langtry’s airstrip, they’d touched down at the Sanderson ranch.
Though Rio secretly disapproved of Ramona’s and Tracy’s hours-long visit with the widowed rancher, she kept her thoughts to herself. Their return to Langtry would likely prove difficult enough once Ramona realized that Rio would be at the main house.
Rio allowed them the time between their late-afternoon arrival and supper to catch up with Sam and Kane and to get settled in. Because their homecoming was considered an occasion, Rio set aside her usual choice of jeans and a blouse in favor of a blue sundress and sandals before she came down to supper.
She entered the living room where everyone but Sam waited for Ardis to announce supper. Tracy sat at one end of the sofa and Ramona stood with Kane in front of the liquor cabinet. Rio walked toward a wing chair at the edge of the formal furniture grouping in front of the stone fireplace. Ramona was the first to
see her arrive.
“Ah, here’s Rio now, Kane, just as you said,” Ramona announced, and immediately flashed Rio a saccharine smile. “Kane is mixing drinks,” she told Rio. “Would you like him to fix you something?”
“No, thank you,” Rio murmured, and sat down.
Ramona nodded sagely and gave Rio a sympathetic look. “A wise choice for you, my dear, considering.”
Rio tensed at the bald reference to her father’s alcoholism but sat back in her chair and pretended not to have noticed. She glanced toward Tracy who hadn’t acknowledged her yet. Two years younger than Rio’s twenty-three, Tracy was a small, delicate blonde like her mother, with huge blue eyes and a flawless complexion. Tracy was usually as sweet as her mother was witchy. When Tracy glanced her way, Rio gave her a soft smile. “Hello, Tracy.”
Tracy’s, “Hello,” was plainly obligatory. She immediately turned from Rio, her manner cool and unfriendly.
Taken aback by Tracy’s snub, Rio glanced Kane’s way as he left the liquor cabinet and came toward the sofa to sit down with his drink. His hard gaze met hers, then moved appraisingly over her sundress and down the smooth length of her legs before it shifted away. It wasn’t the kind of look she usually got from Kane, and Rio’s self-consciousness escalated.
Sam came into the room shortly after, just before Ardis called them to the meal. Sam offered his arm to Ramona, who cooed with exaggerated pleasure and glided to his side in a cloud of chiffon and perfume. Sam offered his other arm to Tracy and escorted both women into the dining room.
That left Rio with Kane, creating an awkwardness that made her squirm inwardly. Kane usually managed to avoid being paired with her socially, whether it was at some grand occasion or something as simple as escorting her from one room to the next with company present. She couldn’t believe Sam had put either of them on the spot, particularly since he knew how Kane felt about her.
