Roz Denny Fox (7 page)

“I can account for roughly half of that in little knots of two or three strays. The missing might have merged with John Westin’s herd. I’ll ride past his spread and ask if he’s seen any of our brand mixed with his.”

Dillon gave his brother a playful nudge in the ribs. “This eagerness to volunteer to ride miles out of your way wouldn’t have anything to do with Ginalyn Westin, would it? Like, give you a chance to ask her to the fall harvest dance?”

“And have Gordy White punch my lights out? Do I look like a man with a death wish?”

“Gordy’s got no claim on Gina. If he did she’d be wearing his ring. But you’re so obtuse maybe you haven’t seen how the heir to the J & B watches you, old son.”

“You won’t catch me in the stampede to her doorstep. John and Bonnie have spoiled her rotten. Can you really see me licking John’s boots and jumping through his hoops until he gets good and ready to hand over the ranch to his daughter? Her husband will always be a flunky. No, thank you.”

“Who mentioned marriage? I only asked if you were inviting her to the dance.”

Jake shot Dillon a quelling glance. “Yeah? So sue me for reading between the lines.”

Dillon laughed. “I’ll concede Gina isn’t your type. Hey, how about taking this Ryan woman? That way you can find out what she’s really up to.”

Jake shook his hand. “Oh, did I forget to say it’s
Mrs.
Ryan?”

“I’m afraid you left out that crucial fact. Okay, I’ll quit hassling you on that score. Too bad. Okay, go on. Ride out to the J & B. See if John can add to our steer count. You and I will touch base again on Saturday at the ranch. Until then, stay out of trouble.”

The brothers slapped each other on the back, saddled up and rode their separate ways. On the dusty ride to the J & B, Jake couldn’t seem to forget the idea of asking Hayley Ryan to the dance. But it was still four months away. He was betting she’d be long gone and only a sweet memory by Labor Day.

I
T WAS LATE AFTERNOON
when Jake rode up the winding path to the Westin ranch. The house itself was far more elaborate than the Coopers’ sprawling single-level home. John Westin had not been born into the cattle business as Wade Cooper had. Westin, who’d come from Virginia, was a late-comer to the Santa Cruz basin. A bankroll of family money, coupled with a desire to build an impressive spread, helped him forge a position into the elite establishment of cattle barons. Westin was brash and outspoken—traits that didn’t seem to bother some in the valley. Jake, however, preferred his father’s easygoing manner and willingness to look at all sides of an issue.

John walked out onto the veranda to light up one of the Cuban cigars he favored just as Jake clattered to a halt in the circular drive. Westin had laid gravel in the area for automobiles, but in deference to the business they were in, he also supplied a watering trough for horses and a hitching rail underneath a stand of shade trees.

“Jacob. Welcome.” John puffed out a cloud of smoke. “What brings you to my humble abode?” He leaned negligently against a carved white pillar and guffawed. “As if I didn’t know.”

Jake glanced at the man’s house. The threestoreyed structure looked for all the world like a plantation mansion from the nineteenth century. “‘Humble’ isn’t exactly a word that comes to mind, John, when I see the J & B.”

Westin rolled the cigar around his lips and his laughter deepened. “The place shows well at night. ’Course, my women don’t give a hoot about the cost of electricity. They turn on every chandelier in the house.” He grinned. “I notice you evaded my point. You’re here to see Ginalyn. Correct?”

“Nope, though I’ll say hello if she’s around. Dillon and I came up short on our steer count this week. Thought maybe some Triple C stock might have mixed in with J & B herds. If your hands run across our brand, give us a call, will you? I’ll come cut them out.”

“Will do. Grass is so dry all the stock’s scattered. When’s Wade going to wise up and toss that old fool miner off the spring property so we can divvy it up?”

“Dad and Mom are in Tombstone today. We heard Ben O’Dell died.”

John’s eyes lit. “Excellent. Couldn’t happen at a better time. The valley’s growing and changing. The Coalition needs free access to that water.”

“I expect Dad will work out an equitable agreement if he’s able to purchase the property.” Jake didn’t like the greedy gleam in John’s eyes. Or maybe he was touchy about the subject because of the way Dillon had teased him about Hayley Ryan.

“What’s to stop him? O’Dell promised Wade first right of option.”

“Yeah, but it’s come to our attention that someone’s refiled Ben’s claim.”

“You don’t say! Now that isn’t right. Wade’s been far too patient as it is. We ranchers need a show of strength. Did some big mining outfit move in?”

Jake shook his head. “Just a single prospector, like Ben.” Jake couldn’t say why he was reluctant to tell John more about Ben’s granddaughter.

Fortunately he was saved the effort of evasion. The screen door opened and a pretty, blonde woman strolled out. Ginalyn Westin had her mother’s classic beauty but was cursed with her father’s arrogance. Though Jake had never seen her make a move that wasn’t calculated to put herself in the spotlight, she was still a sight to behold. Shimmering straight blond hair, big blue eyes. She’d perfected the slow drawl of her native Virginia and she had a definite, if practiced, charm. Unless a man had seen how those fine attributes changed when things didn’t go Ginalyn’s way, he’d grovel at her dainty feet, which was what most sons of area ranchers did. Jake might be the only single male in a hundred-mile radius who kept his distance.

Which hadn’t escaped the young woman’s notice. “Why, I declare,” she said, slipping a slender arm through her dad’s sturdier one. “If it isn’t Jacob Cooper. Let me guess. He’s happened to ride in at suppertime, but before the evening’s done, he’ll get around to inviting me to the harvest dance.” She managed to sound bored.

Jake, who’d whipped off his hat the moment she appeared, resettled it low on his brow. “Wrong on both counts, Ginalyn. My business was with your dad. We’ve concluded it, so now I’ll get along home.” Jake gave Mojave’s cinch a yank. He whistled for Charcoal, who’d drunk his fill at the trough, and swung lithely into the saddle. Touching his hat brim with two fingers, he wheeled the gelding around and cantered down the lane. Not, however, before he heard Ginalyn’s indignant sputter.

“Jacob Cooper, just for that I’ll accept Gordon White’s invitation. And don’t think I’ll save you a dance, because I won’t!”

Raking his boot heels lightly along Mojave’s sides, Jake picked up the pace. He should go back and apologize. She was already complaining to her dad about Jake’s rude behavior. The news would make its way to the Triple C. Wade would remind Jake that pretty eligible women didn’t grow on trees. Eden and Nell, though more subtle, would find some other approach to get the same point across.

Ginalyn was a beauty and well educated. She just didn’t happen to fit Jake’s concept of an ideal partner and ranch wife. When his well-meaning family had asked him to spell out what he did want in a wife, he’d failed to put it into clear terms. As a result, the Coopers were exasperated with him. Well, he was exasperated with himself.

He knew what he
didn’t
want. He didn’t want a wife whose focus was her looks, her clothes or the next big party. Nor did he want someone who’d set her sights on frequent trips to Phoenix. So many of the valley daughters were given a taste of the city at college, and they made no secret of wanting a man willing to help them escape the hard life.

Jake didn’t think it was all that hard. Granted, the money was sometimes iffy and the weather could be the pits. By and large, the freedom a man felt when riding the range was worth far more than the disadvantages. The freedom to call his own shots and be his own man appealed to him.

He tried to understand the situation from a woman’s perspective, a wife’s, if you will. He certainly didn’t object to women pursuing careers. His mother and Eden weren’t tied to the ranch. What set them apart from women he’d dated was their ability to combine happiness at home with work. Jake couldn’t explain it even to himself. He only knew he’d continue to hold out.

Lost in thought, Jake didn’t realize he’d unconsciously detoured past the spring until the light from Hayley Ryan’s campfire came into sight. It flickered and blinked in the distance, still far enough off that he could change course without her ever knowing he’d been there.

He still had plenty of time to skirt her encampment.

And he did kind of go around it for a few hundred yards. Then he dismounted and covered the remaining distance on foot. All the while his heart slammed against his ribs. For crying out loud, did he want her to shoot at him again—and aim truer this time?

Of course he didn’t. He wanted to know if she’d found anything worthwhile in her trek over the hill today. Jake had walked to within shouting distance before he admitted that what he really wanted was to see that she’d made it safely back to camp.

Something shifted ever so slightly in his chest the moment he saw her kneeling next to a blazing fire pit.

“Hayley!” he called. “It’s me, Jacob Cooper. I don’t mean to scare you. I’ve been to the Westin ranch and thought I’d stop to say hello before I head home.”

Hayley jerked and went white at the sound of a male voice. She’d been a million miles off in her mind, planning tomorrow’s assault on the hillside she’d settled on to start her mineral explorations. Jacob Cooper was the last person she’d expected to see again today.

Yet his walking in on her with no warning sent shivers down her spine. He might have been anyone. She shouldn’t drop her guard. Especially after the sun had set.

“Mr. Cooper,” she said with a hint of unsteadiness in her tone. “Were you this much of a pest to my grandfather?”

Jake laughed as he looped Mojave’s reins over a limb. “Ben always had a hot pot of coffee on the fire—and an occasional shot of rum.” Thumbing back his hat, Jake moved closer. “If he thought I was a pest, his good manners kept him from mentioning it. I always had the notion that Ben got a kick out of my stopping to talk.” Jake bent and patted the collie’s heaving sides. He pulled a sack of kibble out of his saddlebag and, after sweeping a clear place on the ground, put out a handful.

Hayley dusted her hands along her thighs to wipe away the sweat dampening her palms. She didn’t doubt that Cooper was telling the truth. Her grandfather, like most lonely prospectors, loved a captive audience. He didn’t always waste time talking to her, though; he was a man’s man. Hayley could well imagine him exploring a wide range of subjects with a local cowboy.

If she were to be honest, she’d admit that she, too, liked her long evenings broken up by lively conversation. Tonight might be the exception. Her stomach had felt queasy for a good part of the day. She’d brewed a pot of chamomile tea to go with her light evening meal, but she didn’t know if this was because of the pregnancy or if something she’d eaten for breakfast hadn’t set well. At any rate, she didn’t feel much like entertaining. She particularly didn’t feel like spending time with someone who might see more than she wanted him to see. Jacob Cooper struck her as a man who’d harbor strong opinions about what pregnant women should and should not do.

“You might want to start carrying a thermos, Mr. Cooper. I prefer herb tea to coffee.” She slanted her gaze toward the pot sitting on the grate over her fire.

“Tea, huh?” Jake wasn’t able to hide his disappointment. “My sister-in-law serves herb tea to her customers. Must be a woman thing.” He stripped off his hat and raked a hand through his matted hair.

“Your sister-in-law runs a café?”

Jake shook his head. “She designs jewelry. In Tubac,” he added, although he didn’t know why. Hayley hadn’t given him any reason to think her polite question had been an attempt to strike up a real conversation.

“I’ve never been there. To Tubac, I mean. Well,” she said breezily, though she felt far from breezy as her stomach had begun mixing it up again, “don’t let me stop you from going home to supper. I was about to douse my fire and turn in.”

Jake’s roving gaze lit on a nearly full plate of food she’d left on the small table that had earlier held her mineralogy books. He wasn’t usually the type to stick around where he clearly wasn’t wanted, but something perverse in him made him dig in his heels. Perhaps it was the tense look that brought an aura of fatigue to the Ryan woman’s expressive face.

“Truth of the matter is, anything hot would go down well at this stage in the game. I hate to trouble you for a cup of that tea, but my animals could use a break. While you pour a neighbor a cup, I’ll water Mojave and Charcoal at the spring.”

Hayley opened her mouth to object. Then she bit back a sigh and reached for the pot, and the mug Jacob had drunk coffee from earlier. “You’ll have to take it without milk or sugar. I’m short on some items.”

“Plain is fine.” Jake led his animals to the spring and picked a spot where he could watch his reluctant hostess without seeming to. She’d told him she intended to spend several months working this claim. Why, at the outset, was she short on supplies? The story behind her being here intrigued Jake, as did that white strip of skin circling the third finger of her left hand. Maybe he’d do a little discreet probing concerning the whereabouts of Mr. Ryan before he finished that begrudgingly offered cup of tea.

After his first taste, it was all Jake could do to keep a straight face. The stuff was horrid. He didn’t know how anyone could drink it for enjoyment.

Hayley must have detected his faint choking sound, or at least noticed the curl of his upper lip. “Something wrong with the tea, Mr. Cooper?” Eyeing him over the rim of her cup, she allowed a tiny smile.

“Uh. No. Say, didn’t I ask you to call me Jake?”

She shrugged. “Don’t think you have to finish the tea, Jake.”

“It’s different from what Eden fixes, is all. Mostly she serves stuff with a fruity flavor.”

“Eden. What a pretty name. She probably sticks to the commercial berry teas. This one is chamomile—it relaxes.”

“Relaxing’s a good idea. Why don’t we take a load off our feet?” Jake helped himself to one of the two lawn chairs, even though Hayley hadn’t invited him to sit. “Go on, eat your supper. Anyone who climbed to the rim and back in one day needs nourishment.”

“Have you been spying on me, Mr. Cooper?” Hayley’s voice was flat, belying her alarm. As she sat opposite him, she recalled her earlier feeling of being watched.

“Jake,” he reminded with laughter in his voice. “Not spying, exactly,” he said. “Hunting strays day after day gets pretty boring.” He waved a hand, indicating the field glasses slung over his saddle horn. “About noon I spotted you at the top of the slope. I confess it’s more tempting to track a pretty woman’s progress than to keep after a bunch of cows. However, my dedication to work eventually won out.”

His candid acknowledgment and the fact that he’d called her pretty brought a surge of color to Hayley’s cheeks. This type of casual flirting had never been her forte. Not to mention it had sucked her in and ultimately left her at the mercy of Joe Ryan. “Some women might fall for flattery,” she added hastily. “I’m not one of them.”

Surprising Hayley, the dog loped over, placed a paw on her lap and gazed at her with soulful eyes. She found it disconcerting, but couldn’t resist fondling his silky black ears.

“I’ve never considered it flattery to state a fact.” Dragging his eyes away from his lucky dog, Jake forced himself to take another swallow of the abominable tea. He’d meant only to make small talk and ease some of the tension between them. His careless statement had obviously had the opposite effect.
Curious.
Jake thought she might be the only woman he’d ever met who took offense at being called pretty. But she
was
pretty. Surely she saw that when she looked in the mirror. On second thought, observing the stiff way she now sat in her chair, Jake decided she might not. The absent husband could have done a real number on her. It made his blood boil to imagine such a thing.