Cowboy Accomplice Part 12

"Sorry, I just thought when you weren't rounding up cows..."

"I need to get dinner going," he said over his shoulder. "The men will be coming in hungry."

She still didn't say anything as she went inside. He heard the rattle of pots and pans as he gathered an armload of firewood.

He could hear the lo of the cattle just over the hill and knew the men wouldn't be far behind. He just hoped to h.e.l.l no more of them went missing. He wondered which one had hidden the gun in the tent fold. More important, why.

REGGIE LOOKED UP as J.T. came through the door. She had a fire going in the woodstove and was peeling potatoes. He looked worried. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head and took the peeler from her and showed her how to use it correctly.

"Thanks," she said. It worked much better the way it was supposed to be used.

He sat down at the table across from her and leaned toward her before glancing toward the lower bunk bed. "You have some sort of identification with you?"

She told herself she shouldn't be surprised. But it bothered her that he didn't trust her. Okay, maybe she could understand his lack of faith, all things considered. But since when did going after what you wanted automatically make you a liar and a thief and whatever else he thought of her?

She got up and went to the bunk, found her red leather purse in her suitcase and took out her wallet. She handed it to him without opening it.

He held the wallet in his hand for a moment, his eyes on her. She stood, feeling like a child before the princ.i.p.al as he slowly unzipped the small leather wallet. She watched him flip through it, stop on her California driver's license, then continue flipping through the plastic photo holders.

She felt as if he were going through her underwear drawer. Her whole life was in that wallet.

"You work for Way Out West Jeans," he said. "You never told me the company's name."

"You never gave me the chance."

He was still holding the wallet. "Who is this?"

She stepped closer to glance at the photograph of an attractive woman standing next to an amazingly handsome man. The photo was old, the edges worn and wrinkled. "My mother and father."

"Nice-looking people."

"My dad died when I was two. I was raised by my mother and grandmother." Why had she told him that?

"I'm sorry." He flipped back to her other photographs, glancing from each then to her as if he was looking for a resemblance.

"Friends," she said and reached for the wallet. "I was an only child."

He looked embarra.s.sed for going through her things as he handed back the wallet. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you about the jeans."

She turned and went back to the bed to put her wallet away. He hadn't moved. She could practically hear him struggling to come up with something to say to her. No matter what he thought, she hadn't really lied to get this job, but she could see where he might think she had.

"I talked Buck into giving me the cook job and led him to believe I could cook, but I had nothing to do with the truck not running or anything else," she said as she looked over her shoulder at him.

He had turned and was taking a package of meat from the cooler.

She stared at his broad back realizing what he thought of her. That she was a cold-blooded b.i.t.c.h who used people to get what she wanted no matter the cost. Why should she care what he thought of her? Tears stung her eyes.

Worse, his opinion of her hit a little too close to home. "You have no idea how compet.i.tive the jeans market is or what it's like being a woman in that world."

He said nothing as he put the potatoes she'd peeled on to boil.

"This advertising campaign means everything," she said, surprised she was close to crying.

He turned then to look at her. "Everything?" "Everything?"

She swallowed. "It's critical to the future of the company and to my future." She stopped as she realized how desperate she sounded. "I thought a man like you could understand working hard for something you believe in."

"A man like me? You don't know me at all if you think I would use any means to get what I wanted," he snapped.

"I've had to work hard for everything I've ever gotten. You, McCall, know nothing about me or my life or what I've been through to get to where I-"

A tree limb brushed against the window. They both turned at the sound. Outside the wind had come up. Pine boughs now swayed. One thumped softly against the window.

J.T. went back to his cooking. She turned away and wiped hastily at her tears, angry with herself for crying, angry at him for thinking so little of her.

He was wrong. She did know who he was. Not just the eldest son of Asa McCall and the man who ran the Sundown Ranch. She'd seen his kindness, his compa.s.sion, his strength and his determination. She'd seen how the men respected him. He inspired loyalty. The man could even cook.

She'd spent the years since college creating the Wild West to sell jeans. But now that she was in in the Wild West, she saw that it was nothing like she'd thought. She'd fantasized about a cowboy's life for her jeans. But J. T. McCall was nothing like it and now she found herself fantasizing about the man. the Wild West, she saw that it was nothing like she'd thought. She'd fantasized about a cowboy's life for her jeans. But J. T. McCall was nothing like it and now she found herself fantasizing about the man.

She wanted to know this man better and it didn't have anything to do with the kiss earlier. Well, hardly anything.

But she also realized that by going after what she wanted-J. T. McCall's backside-she might have jeopardized his cattle roundup, not to mention ruined any chance of getting him for the commercial and made a lasting bad impression on him. She might also be responsible for whatever had happened to Buck.

She wanted a chance to make things right and gain J.T.'s respect, to show him she wasn't as inept as he thought she was. If she hoped to win his respect she'd have to show him that she could survive in his world and that meant being able to ride a horse. The mere thought terrified her. The only thing she had loved about being on his horse had been having J.T. behind her holding her. She tried not to think about riding alone, without J.T. not only behind her, but not even holding the reins.

J.T. would teach her to ride, she was pretty sure of that, and she was a quick study.

Of course, once she could ride a horse, he would send her down the mountain and she would lose any chance-as if she hadn't already-of changing his mind about the commercial.

But she had to prove to him that he was wrong about her. She would overcome her fears. Even if it killed her.

J.T. STUDIED each cowhand as he came into the cabin for supper.

Nevada Black stormed in first. "Someone ransacked our tent." He sounded angry as he took his chair.

J.T. nodded. "It was like that when I got back." He sat down at the table and began to pa.s.s the platters of food around. "Any idea what they were looking for?"

Nevada looked surprised by the question. "I guess that would depend on what was in the tent." He glanced at the other men.

Will Jarvis didn't even bother to look up. Roy glanced at J.T., then took the bowl of potatoes and began to dish up his plate. Slim and Cotton exchanged shrugs.

"Was there anything of value left in the tent?" J.T. asked and watched for a reaction. After his trip to the creek with Reggie, he'd hidden the 9 mm pistol in the cabin.

All the men shook their heads as they served their plates and began eating.

He'd hoped that one of them would admit to hiding the gun in the tent. The fact that no one did made him all the more worried that the danger was coming from inside not outside the camp.

"I asked you to keep in sight of each other," he said, but could see before anyone said anything that there had been times when the men had lost sight of each other. He could almost feel the suspicion, which alone could drive a wedge between the men and make matters worse. If that were possible.

"I was thinking it might have been a bear who messed up our tent," Roy Shields offered, his face coloring. It was the first time Roy had said that many words since J.T. had met him. "I saw prints on the way back to camp."

Cotton groaned. "I did have some cookies my girlfriend sent and they're gone."

"It wouldn't be the first time we had a bear in camp," Slim chimed in, the group seeming to relax a little.

"You all know this is bear country and we need to keep a clean camp," J.T. said and looked pointedly at Reggie.

"Sorry, Mr. McCall," Cotton said.

The talk around the table turned to cows and how many had been rounded up. Tomorrow they would begin gathering the rest of the strays. With luck they could be out of here the next morning.

J.T. noticed that the men all seemed tired while Reggie appeared to be getting her second wind. He didn't see that as a good sign.

He felt a little guilty for what he'd said to her earlier. He hadn't meant to come down so hard on her. Maybe she wasn't responsible for the disabled truck, or for whatever had happened to Luke Adams, or Buck not returning yet. But he had a bad feeling that someone in this camp was and he feared it was the owner of the gun he'd found.

Chapter Nine.

All the men cleared out right after dinner, including J.T. Regina could hear some of the men standing around the fire, a couple of them talking quietly. She could see the flicker of the campfire through the window and their silhouettes.

J.T. wasn't one of the men standing around the fire. She wondered where he'd gone. She wished he'd stuck around. She'd hoped to talk to him. It dawned on her that if he continued to be suspicious that she was behind the things that had been going on in the camp, he wouldn't be looking for the real culprit.

She'd seen how worried he was about Buck. She hoped he was wrong and that the elderly foreman was just running late for some reason. She couldn't bear it if anything happened to Buck because of her.

She finished the dishes and stepped out on the porch, needing a breath of fresh air. The bath in the creek had been wonderful. She felt like a new woman and smiled, remembering J.T. under that tree. His eyes were the palest blue she'd ever seen in a face that was rugged and so s.e.xy it made her knees weak. J.T. had insisted on wrapping her sprained ankle, which felt much better.

She heard someone approach from the darkness of the pines and knew without looking that it was him.

"Come on," J.T. said and motioned for her to follow him.

She didn't question where they were going, just stepped off the porch, glad for his company tonight. She followed him along the dark edge of the cabin on the side away from the campfire, away from the men. Her ankle ached, but she wasn't about to complain.

He stopped at the edge of the corral. She saw that he'd moved the other horses into the corral next to it.

Stars popped out in the clear midnight-blue sky over the tops of the pines. Tonight the sky seemed even bigger, the stars brighter. Or was it just being here with McCall? She felt awed, humbled under such a sky, everything that had motivated her to this point in her life seeming insignificant.

"The first thing you need to learn is how to saddle a horse," he said quietly as he picked up his saddle, which was straddling the corral fence, and shoved it at her.

Her knees practically buckled. The saddle was heavy, much heavier than she'd expected. She could feel his look of disdain and hurriedly righted herself, hefting the saddle a little higher, getting under it. She'd be d.a.m.ned if she'd drop it.

She followed him over to where he had his horse tied to the corral railing.

"It takes a little effort to get the saddle on," he said.

She imagined so given that she was way down here and the horse's back was way up there. She took a breath and tried to lift the saddle up and onto the horse's back. The saddle went over the top, almost taking her with it.

He retrieved the saddle and handed it to her without a word. This time she got the saddle in the right place and practically swelled with pride at her accomplishment.

He straightened the saddle and proceeded to show her how to cinch it down and put on the bridle.

The horse, of course, moved away, snorting and giving her a look that said, over his dead body. She grabbed the rope Killer was tied to and pulled the beast closer. She refused to groan. At least out loud.

"Good job. You're stronger than you look," J.T. said, with maybe a little admiration in his tone, when she'd finished. "Okay, let's adjust the stirrups. It's time to get on the horse."

Her heart was thundering in her chest, her hands shaking as she took the reins he handed her.

"Don't drop these. This is how you control the horse, okay?"

She nodded, staring at the horse, remembering that feeling of being out of control when she was astride the monstrous thing. She swallowed and repeated her resolve to learn to ride.

Reaching up to grab the saddle horn, she put her foot into one of the stirrups and pulled herself up, swinging her leg over, grinning in surprise to find herself astride the horse.

McCall smiled.

The horse shuddered and hopped over a few feet to the side. She quickly dropped the reins and hunched over the saddle horn, gripping it with white knuckles.

She heard J.T. groan.

"What did I tell you about the reins?" he asked handing them to her again.

"Don't drop them."

He nodded and looked up at her, shaking his head as if she were hopeless.

He got the horse moving and showed her how to hold the reins in one hand and lay them to one side of the horse's neck. To her amazement the horse turned.

"Good," he said.

She tried turning the horse the other way. Shoot, it was like driving a car. Kinda.

"Okay, walk him around the corral." McCall climbed up on the corral to watch.

She rode around the corral and even let go of the breath she'd been holding when she didn't immediately slide off. Or get bucked off.