She half turned in her chair, gripping the plastic armrest that didn’t hold her spoon. “You want me to pretend to twist my ankle and fall into his arms?”
“Oh, good.” Jonah grinned, choosing to ignore her sarcasm. “You’ve read this story before.”
Emily stomped her bootheel on gravel. “I’m not the woman that men rush to rescue.”
“No. I imagine you’re the kind of woman who rescues her man.” Jonah sat back and stared into the flames, distracted by an idea. He needed to open the script with Mr. Merciless saying something clever to a stagecoach driver during a robbery. Not just clever. Coldhearted and clever.
“No.” Emily got to her feet.
“No?” Jonah glanced up at her, having lost the trail of their conversation.
“I have my pride. I’m rejecting your job offer.”
He captured Emily’s hand to keep her near, at least long enough to ask, “What do you think Mike Moody said to stop the stage that last time?”
Emily didn’t hesitate. “‘Stop or I’ll add another murder to my Most Wanted poster.’”
She was quick, but it still wasn’t right. “That feels incomplete.”
Emily tugged her hand, but not with much force. She was smart. She probably enjoyed crosswords and other puzzles. She probably found his question intriguing. “He’d say, ‘What’s your name? I want everyone to remember so they can add it to my wanted poster.’”
“Better.” But not quite right. His thumb brushed along the soft skin of Emily’s inner wrist, finding her pulse. It was strong and rapid.
Maybe she’ll trip and fall into my lap.
Emily snatched her hand back. “The day he died, Mike Moody shot the guard sitting next to the stage driver. And then he probably said something like, ‘You remember to tell the sheriff his name. Wouldn’t want it left off my wanted poster.’”
Jonah curled his fingers into his palm, trying to save the heat from her touch.
Quit being a sentimental idiot. Focus on the script. This is a great opening.
Jonah extended his fingers, releasing her warmth. “He’d want the passengers on the stagecoach to know his name.” Because a successful thief would have a reputation and the fear he’d have instilled in others would have fed his brazenness. “He’d squint up at the driver and say, ‘State your name! Wouldn’t want it left off MY wanted poster. That’s right. I’m Mike Moody!’”
Oh, that was good.
Emily didn’t let on if she was impressed or not. She gestured toward a bucket of water near his feet. “Douse the fire when you’re through.” And then she scooped up her spoon.
“You’re leaving?” Jonah shifted in the chair to watch her walk away. “But that’s a great line.” It conveyed attitude and a history of killing. “We could come up with some other ones.”
“I’m a rancher, not your assistant.” That was a nose-in-the-air tone if he’d ever heard one.
And yet, Jonah couldn’t shake the idea that she’d enjoyed tossing lines back and forth. “I’ll see you tomorrow and we’ll go on a trail ride. Just two friends enjoying the day.” After all, she’d promised to take him.
She slammed the back door behind her.
Jonah faced the fire, running possible lines of dialogue in his head as he ran the palm of his hand—the hand that had held her wrist—across his jaw.
Toss down that strong box like it holds your granny’s pearls.
I’ll take that fancy purse of yours, pretty lady.
That’s what the last coach driver said before I put a bullet between his eyes.
The lines weren’t as clever as the wanted poster line, but the ideas were flowing. It was time to get in front of his laptop. He’d write a couple robbery scenes. Maybe they’d give him ideas about what happened in between.
A window opened behind him. “I have conditions.”
Jonah took in Emily’s silhouette in a window on the bottom floor. Was she talking about the script? “That’s not what Mike Moody would say.”
“I’m talking about me. If I work for you, I have conditions.” She shut the window, latching it closed without divulging what her stipulations were.
Jonah bet he’d never agree to whatever terms Emily came up with. He doused the fire, waiting to make sure it was out before walking back to the bunkhouse where he spent the next few hours drafting scenes that weren’t half bad.
CHAPTER FIVE
JONAH MONROE WAS INCONVENIENT.
It was creeping up on noon. He’d be expecting his trail ride soon.
Emily had a dozen things to do around the ranch and her body ached. Earlier, she and Franny had been working with some of their younger bulls, getting them used to being taken in and out of the stock trailer. Emily had been stepped on and had bull snot blown on her chest. And then one nervous yearling slammed her against the metal wall.
She was willing to bet bull snot didn’t count as the polish Jonah referenced she’d need to capture Bo’s eye.
Franny was in a far stall, checking an abscess in her horse’s mouth. Her soft voice drifted through the barn. “Just a little more of this peroxide mixture, Danger, honey.”
As if sensing his brother’s distress, Deadly poked his head over his stall wall and nickered.
“You baby that horse, Franny.” Em finished disinfecting feed buckets and wiped her hands dry.
“That’s what Kyle used to say.” Sadness no longer dragged from her syllables when Franny talked about Kyle. “But surely everyone needs to be babied when they have a toothache. Isn’t that right, Danger, honey?”
Deadly huffed, wanting some attention.
Emily stopped at his stall door to oblige, scratching between his ears. “Don’t expect baby talk from me, fella.”
“No baby talk?” Jonah appeared in the barn doorway. He wore relaxed blue jeans, a neon yellow T-shirt and a blue baseball cap. The sun glinted off his fringe of bright red hair. “Ever?”
“Ever,” Emily said firmly, heat creeping up her cheeks.
In the history of bad ideas, Emily receiving love advice from Jonah had to rank pretty high. She needed to establish some rules today, because despite Jonah being annoying, there was the little matter of a slight attraction to him. And there was no way she was getting involved with a city slicker. She had her sights firmly targeted once more on Brawny Bo.
“The lack of baby talk is for the best since you’re working for me now.” Jonah closed the distance between them, looking as pleased as punch. He scratched the beatnik hair on his chin. “How about that ride?”
“Go on.” Franny chose that moment to come out of Danger’s stall. “It’s a beautiful day outside.”
“Beautiful.” Jonah stopped a few feet away, looking nowhere but at Em. “My thoughts exactly.”
Is he flirting with me?
Emily’s head felt muddled. “About those rules...” She couldn’t think of one.
“I thought we’d ride up to Mike Moody’s hideout and see what he could see of the valley.” Jonah didn’t let Emily collect her thoughts. There were those clear blue eyes and that handsome grin. “You know, we’ll follow the path Mike took after he stabbed Old Jeb at the smithy. I just know the blacksmith was no threat to Mike.”
“What makes you say that?” Emily snapped. After all, Jonah was talking about her five-times-great-grandpa.
“If he was a big threat, Mike would’ve just shot him.” Jonah sounded so certain. “Why risk injury to himself confronting Jeb with a knife?”
Emily frowned, not liking that Jonah made sense. “That trail you want to take starts in the heart of Second Chance proper.” A couple miles as the crow flies. A couple of ridges between them on horseback.
“Is that a problem?” Jonah’s smile dwindled away.
“It’s not a quick trail ride and it’s my day to pick up the boys in town.” This was why they needed rules,
so he’d know when she had other obligations.
“I can get the boys.” Franny joined them in front of Deadly’s stall, giving Jonah a welcome smile.
“On second thought...” Emily marched toward the tack room, a new course of action planned. “I’ve been promising the boys a special outing. We’ll take the horses over to town and then the lot of us can ride back by way of the bandit’s trail.” Locals enjoyed taking the trail for hikes, mountain bike and horse rides. Her nephews would be tickled. It would just leave a lot on her plate around the ranch tomorrow but she was leaving town soon and wouldn’t have many more opportunities for moments like these with her nephews.
Franny followed her. “Can you make sure that Adam—”
“Goes to the bathroom before we leave town? Yes.” Emily was way ahead of her sister-in-law.
“And check that Charlie—”
“Brings home all his schoolbooks.” Franny’s middle son was notorious for leaving them behind. Emily turned, waiting.
“And that Davey...” Franny arched a brow at Em, daring her to complete that sentence.
“Davey is the least of your worries.”
“I know.” Franny grinned. Her oldest took the role of the man of the house seriously, perhaps more so since Shane had proposed to Franny.
“No Popsicles for the boys today, I guess.” Jonah came to stand behind Franny. “Where’s Shane?”
“He’s working on the cabins with Bo at the camp by the lake.” Franny scooped up Adam’s saddle and tack. “He was expecting you to help today, Jonah.”
“My helping would not be very helpful. I’m not handy when it comes to fixing things.”
Sliding her arm under Davey’s saddle blanket, Emily exchanged an arched-brow look with Franny, unable to resist a tease. “Where does your handiness lie, Jonah?”
“With the written word.” He grinned unapologetically.
“I guess words would come in handy—” Emily smirked at Jonah on her way to Yoda’s stall “—if I was writing an email.”
“Or an online review,” Franny added, moving toward Taffy’s enclosure.
“Or a social media post.” Which Emily had no use for. Having lost her brother in a horrible way, she valued her privacy too much.
“Oh, ladies.” Jonah was unfazed by their ribbing. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to poke fun at a scriptwriter?” He tsked. “You could end up dead on the screen someday.”
“Gruesomely murdered.” Emily chuckled.
“Stabbed in the back.” Franny laughed.
“I’m so glad the Clark women get me.” Jonah patted Deadly’s neck. “Can I ride this one? He seems gentle.”
“No,” Franny and Emily chorused, both immediately solemn.
“Deadly’s a handful.” Emily entered Yoda’s stall. “You’ll ride my horse, Razzy.”
“I appreciate you taking me out.” There was something wrong with Jonah’s tone. He was too confident. “Take me for another ride and we’ll get this My Fair Lady thing working.”
“What’s he talking about?” Franny caught Em’s eye across the breezeway.
“I’m going to help Emily land a date with my cousin.” Jonah rubbed his hands together.
Again, Emily’s cheeks heated. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“You said you had conditions.” Jonah was enjoying this too much. He stroked the well-trimmed whiskers on his chin. “That implies we have a deal.”
She hadn’t wanted their agreement to be public. Emily saddled Davey’s mustang. “Here are my conditions. For your safety, you must obey my commands when we’re riding.”
“Oh, I like that one.” Franny was busy saddling Adam’s pony and didn’t look up. Surprisingly, she wasn’t questioning the wisdom of Em considering Jonah’s deal, either.
“And you have to check your wardrobe advice at the door.” Emily gestured to her dusty, dirty clothes. “Because this is me.”
“Yeah,” Franny agreed. “Guys shouldn’t tell women how to dress.”
“Um...wait.” As usual, Jonah had a differing opinion. “I think there should be a rule about the number of conditions you can set. It should be three, like the number of wishes you get from Aladdin’s lamp. It sounds like you’re gearing up for more than that. Plus, I’d like to negotiate the scope of the wardrobe condition because you’d look fabulous in—”
“There’s no negotiation when it comes to my clothing.” Emily drowned out his voice with hers. If he had his way, he’d have her floating through a cattle pasture in a glamorous gown. “My third and final condition is that you have to be up-front with me and your advice has to work or all deals are off.”
“That’s two terms in one.” Jonah frowned.
“Not really.” Franny cinched up Taffy’s saddle. “It all boils down to trust.”
Jonah looked from one woman to the other. “Do all your tag-team negotiations box your opponent in a corner?”
“Yes,” Franny and Em chorused, like-minded from decades of friendship.
Jonah held his hands up in surrender. “Then I suppose I’ve got no choice but to say yes.”
Emily snuck a glance at Jonah—all half grin, relaxed shoulders. And yet, she had the distinct impression that she was the one who’d been boxed in and bamboozled.
Jonah drifted into the tack room.
“You know, I’m pulling for Jonah to succeed in this bargain.” Franny tied Taffy to a hook in the breezeway.
“You mean, you hope he gets more trail rides?” Emily fastened Yoda’s reins to a similar hook on her side of the barn.
“No.” Franny didn’t grin, didn’t tease. “I hope Bo falls for you so you’ll stay in Second Chance with me.”
“It’s just a shot in the dark,” Emily said gruffly, wishing the same thing. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
In short order, she and Jonah were ready to ride. Emily had Davey’s mustang and the younger boys’ ponies on a stringer. Jonah brought up the rear on Razzy. Franny bade them farewell, closing the barn door behind them.
Predictably, Deadly required her full attention until he’d burned off some energy. He pranced sideways, tossed his head, gave a half-hearted kick at Yoda when the mustang followed too closely.
“What’s wrong with your horse?” Jonah called, worry in his tone.
“He’s rambunctious and not a team player.” And they were riding through thick brush, similar to the situation where Deadly and Kyle had been ambushed. “I’ve got your back, buddy,” she muttered, with a steady seat and firm hand on the reins.
The brush thinned and Deadly settled down to a fast pace, making the ponies work hard to keep up.
The ride into Second Chance took nearly an hour. There was little opportunity for conversation, given Jonah was four horses back. Emily was fine with that. The warmth of the sun. The smell of the pines. The solid thump of horse hooves on dirt. This was what she loved about being a cowgirl.
When little Adam saw them cross the highway toward the Bent Nickel diner, he hopped out the door and across the parking lot on two feet like a bunny. “Aunty Em brought the horses!” Hop-hop-hop. He bounced in a circle.
Emily dismounted and handed Deadly’s reins to Jonah so she could take the horse and ponies off her stringer. After sending Adam back inside to the potty and Charlie back inside for his schoolbooks, she charged her nephews with securing their backpacks on their saddles.
Egbert emerged from the diner with a cup of coffee in one hand and his cane in the other, looking like Santa in the off-season with his white, flowing locks and full white beard. The unofficial town historian raised his mug in salute to Jonah. “Finally following Mike Moody’s trail, are you?”
“Yes.” Jonah leaned his forearm on his saddle horn, as if he’d been raised a cowboy. “Any words of wisdom?”
The old man gestured with his coffee mug. “By a
ll accounts, Mike Moody galloped into those trees like the devil himself was on his tail. You should do the same.”
“He galloped?” Jonah gazed across the road, brows drawn low. “That hill’s pretty steep.” He was a greenhorn having second thoughts.
“We’re going to go fast but not ride at top speed.” Emily caught Adam’s eye and winked. “You can get a flavor for Mike Moody’s escape without galloping.”
Her nephews were vocal in their disappointment. They wanted to ride like the posse was hot on their heels.
“Can’t we run on ahead?” Charlie climbed on top of Buff, a stocky brown pony he claimed looked like a buffalo. “You can stay with the city Monroe, Aunty Em.”
“I feel so unappreciated.” Jonah’s blue eyes twinkled, contradicting his words. “As if I’d be left on the trail if I were shot and would slow Mr. Merciless down.”
“You got that right.” Egbert waved farewell. “That desperado didn’t love anyone but himself.”
Once all five horses and riders were safely across the two-lane highway, Emily led them toward a deer track in the trees. She turned and assessed Jonah, who was behind her. His seat was too casual. He wasn’t a natural rider. He was a passenger out for a ride. “Are you up for this?”
“Never let it be said that a Monroe was afraid of a little speed.” Jonah glanced up the mountain, a rare, grim expression on his face. “Besides, if Mr. Merciless did it, so can I.”
“Hold on to your saddle horn.” Emily gave Deadly free rein and a squeeze of her heels. The gelding surged forward in big, choppy strides until he found his rhythm. The reenactment of Mike Moody’s escape was on.
Her nephews hooted and hollered like a bunch of cowhands headed into town on a Saturday night. Another voice joined their enthusiastic cries, a deeper, booming voice.
Darn if Jonah wasn’t enjoying himself.
Grinning, Emily reached the next rise and pulled up to a walk, turning Deadly so she could watch her merry band catch up.
Jonah had one hand on the saddle horn and was laughing. She’d never seen him so free and gleeful. His joy filled her chest, too, as if they were connected. She was sure she had a goofy grin on her face, one that mirrored his.
Enchanted by the Rodeo Queen--A Clean Romance Page 6
