Samantha and the Cowboy (4 page)

The sun was directly overhead when Sam noticed the cattle starting to slow down—if beasts that barely moved could be said to slow down. She thought they'd be lucky if they covered fifteen miles today.

All morning she and Matt had simply ridden behind the beasts, keeping a watchful eye. Every now and then, Matt would urge his horse toward an errant cow. He used his rope, coiled but dangling loosely from his hand, to shoo the animal back toward the herd. He'd shown her how to hold her own rope, how to gently flap it to direct the animals.

The work wasn't hard, but it was tiresome. And so dull that she couldn't figure out why Mr. Vaughn hadn't been willing to hire her in the first place. As far as she could tell, the greatest danger was falling asleep and toppling off her horse.

The cattle came to a stop. Two cowboys loped toward them and brought their horses to a halt.

“We'll take first shift,” one said.

“You'll get no argument from me,” Matt responded. “Sam, meet Jeb and Jed.”

Sam couldn't tell much about them, since their hats shielded the top of their heads and their bandannas hid the lower part of their faces. She could see that they both had tawny eyes.

“They're twins,” Matt explained. “If you can't remember which is which, just call out, ‘Twin.' They both answer to that.”

“How come you're riding drag, instead of point, like you have been?” one twin asked.

“Gotta teach Sam the
ropes
, so to speak,” Matt told him tersely, “and the boss wouldn't let him start at the front.”

Guilt pricked Sam's conscience. Matt had explained the various positions to her. Farther up were the cowboys who rode flank. Ahead of them, the cowboys were riding the swing position. Point was obviously a coveted spot, in front of the herd, ahead of the choking dust. Matt had been forced to give it up because he'd offered her a spot on this drive.

She would definitely do all she could to become the best cowhand Jake Vaughn or Matthew Hart had ever seen. Or die trying.

“Come on, Sam. Cookie will have set up the wagon at the front of the herd and we have about an hour before we get these little doggies moving again. And we'll need to get back here so Jeb and Jed can have a chance to eat.”

Following Matt's lead, she urged her horse into a canter.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this hungry.

Matt had explained that the wagon started out ahead of the herd and traveled to a spot that Jake had determined the night before. When Cookie reached it, he set up and prepared lunch. The meal was usually ready by the time the slow-moving cattle caught up to him. He'd follow the same plan during the afternoon. Where Cookie stopped late in the afternoon was where they'd stay for the night.

As they approached the noonday camp, she could see several cowboys squatting near the supply wagon, shoveling food into their mouths.

She dismounted. Matt took the reins to her mare and tethered it to a nearby bush near his horse.

“Go on and get yourself some food,” he ordered.

She cautiously walked toward the cook. He was dipping a ladle into a huge Dutch oven and bringing out stew.

“I'll have some, please,” she said.

He turned the ladle to the side to unload its contents. Juice splattered the bowl as the stew hit it. “Son-of-a-gun,” he said.

“That's all right,” she told him. “It didn't make too much of a mess.”

He scrunched up his face, and she could have sworn the white whiskers on his face bristled. “I was tellin' you the name of the stew. It's son-of-a-gun stew.”

“Oh.” She smiled slightly. “I've never heard of that
kind of stew. What's in it?”

“Whatever was easiest to reach.”

She didn't think that sounded too appetizing. She took the bowl and headed for a nearby tree. She thought about sitting with the other cowboys, but she decided that the less time she spent in their company, the less likely they were to discover she was a girl.

Gingerly she brought a spoonful of stew to her lips and tentatively touched the tip of her tongue to the sauce. Not bad. Not like anything she'd ever tasted before, but not bad.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matt take his bowl and drop down beside the wagon, pressing his back to the wooden wheel. She figured he was just as happy to be away from her for a while as she was to be avoiding him. He hadn't been unkind during their time together, but he hadn't exactly been friendly, either.

She'd just finished the last of her stew when Jake crouched in front of her. She hadn't seen him come into camp. She was wishing he hadn't seen her. He was holding a length of rope about two feet long. He extended it toward her.

“Take it and tie a knot for me,” he ordered.

Licking her lips, she set the bowl aside, took the rope, and expertly tied a knot at its center. Nodding, Jake took the rope and jerked the ends, tightening her knot.

“That's a knot all right,” he murmured.

She started to smile at passing his test, but he sliced
his gaze to her and his harsh scrutiny caused her smile to wither.

“Can you do a double half-hitch?” he asked.

She slowly shook her head.

“Clove hitch?”

Again she shook her head, wishing she hadn't eaten her stew so quickly. Her stomach was starting to hurt as she realized she hadn't impressed him in the least.

“They're one and the same,” he told her. “We use them to secure our horses because the knots can be untied quickly. If a horse tugs on the rope with your kind of knot, it's just going to tighten and you'll never get it loose.”

“Cinnamon is trained not to run off.”

“I don't care how well your horse is trained, it's gonna bolt if two thousand cattle are running. Besides, you're not always going to ride your horse. We've got horses trained for night riding. And we have cow ponies that will serve you better when you give your horse a rest. Matt!”

She snapped her head back, astounded by his abrupt yelling of Matt's name. Apparently Matt was equally startled, because she saw his body jerk and his bowl went flying. She might have laughed at his reaction if Jake hadn't had her pinned to the spot with his stare.

Glowering, Matt got to his feet, picked up his bowl, handed it to Cookie, and trudged toward them.

“What?” he asked when he got near enough to be heard without yelling.

Jake unfolded his body and tossed the rope at Matt. Matt caught it.

“He doesn't know how to tie any other kind of knot except that one. Teach him,” Jake commanded.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Jake, you're being unreasonable.”

“Me? I'm not the one who hired him. Teach him or fire him. It's your choice.”

Sam's heart slammed against her ribs. Half a day? He was only going to give her half a day to prove herself?

With long strides, Jake walked away. Matt dropped his head back and closed his eyes. Sam could almost see the battle he waged within himself. She had an uncomfortable feeling that teaching her wasn't winning out over firing her. When he'd offered to hire her, he obviously hadn't realized he'd be responsible for her. But then she hadn't realized that, either.

“I'm a fast learner,” she said quickly.

With a deep sigh, he opened his eyes and looked at her. “Let's hope so.”

He hunkered down in front of her. She watched as his fingers worked to untie her tightened knot. He'd removed his gloves to eat, and she could see now that he had long, tanned fingers.

His hands looked much stronger than hers. His veins stuck up like tiny mountain ranges. When he turned his hands, the calluses became visible. She couldn't imagine why she was so fascinated by the movement of his fingers
and hands. She'd never spent much time noticing a boy's hands or the firmness in his forearms.

But sitting here with Matt, watching him work, she thought he had the most capable hands she'd ever seen. She wondered what it would feel like to have his hand wrapped around hers, their palms pressed together.

“How many different kinds of knots are there?” she asked, trying to rein in her wandering thoughts.

“About a half dozen that we use,” he answered distractedly. He tugged the rope straight, the knot gone, before lifting his gaze to hers. “Spanish, rose, double half-hitch, square, hackamore, granny, half.” His wide shoulders rolled as he shrugged. “We'll do one a day until you've learned them all. We'll start with a square knot. Now watch.”

She did. She really did like the way his hands moved, so capable, so sure. She never would have thought she'd find that one aspect of a man incredibly engrossing. He had to show her three times before she remembered to watch the rope and not his fingers.

When he gave the rope to her, she took a deep breath and mimicked his actions. She held up the square knot.

He smiled then, a smile that reached up to touch his blue eyes and made them sparkle like jewels dangling from a necklace. “Impressive. Let's get back to the herd so Jed and Jeb can come eat. Bring the rope. You can practice a bit as long as the cattle stay calm.”

She got to her feet. “Thanks, Matt.”

He nodded before he sauntered away, leaving her to feel as though once again there was something she either didn't know or had failed to do properly.

And yet she couldn't help but feel that he was more upset with himself than with her. He always seemed to start out impatient, but as he explained things he actually became…friendly.

Then he'd back off as though he'd stepped across an invisible line he'd never planned to get near. She didn't quite know what to make of him or his attitude.

She understood that he didn't want to ride drag. But she had the feeling that she was the true thorn in his side. And she couldn't figure out why.

The kid's gratitude nagged at Matt's conscience. Hiring the boy had been a stupid idea. Softening his heart toward him was even stupider. If Matt had any kindness in him, he'd send the kid home before they traveled much farther.

The problem was that Sam had such innocent eyes…and Matt didn't want to be the one who tore that innocence asunder, who taught the boy that life was difficult and growing up was hard. Giving Sam less than a day to prove himself would surely do that.

Sam had looked at Matt as though he was some kind of hero for teaching him how to tie a square knot. And he was a far cry from being a hero.

He cast a sly glance Sam's way as his horse plodded along. He'd decided to teach the kid another knot, and Sam was now busily working to master the double half-hitch. The kid had such small hands—delicate, almost. Jake was right. Sam wasn't anywhere close to being sixteen.

Closer to fourteen, maybe even younger. Why lie about his age when they were hiring fourteen-year-olds?
Obviously the kid wanted to grow up, and grow up fast.

Sam's slight build made Matt want to protect him, protect him the way he'd tried to protect boys younger than him during the war—and that was a dangerous undertaking on a cattle drive.

Every man had to be capable of caring for himself, and the sooner Matt taught Sam all he needed to know, the sooner Matt could stop worrying about him. He hated worrying about someone else almost as much as he hated riding drag.

During the war, the soldiers kept getting younger and younger. He'd been promoted to lieutenant at sixteen because he'd been the oldest in the outfit. He'd thought that had been a fairly pitiful reason to put him in charge. Sometimes he thought the war was more of a boys' war than anything else.

And cattle drives were becoming no different. So many men had gone off to fight. The youngsters left behind had started herding cattle. They were the reason that trail hands were now referred to as cow
boys
.

Matt fought an inner battle not to worry about Sam. He'd teach him what he needed to learn, and the boy would do fine. He had spoken the truth about his ability to learn quickly.

Matt turned his attention back to the herd. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to be a little nicer to the kid. Sam
rarely spoke so Matt didn't have to worry that the boy would try to develop a friendship with him. There were dangers on a cattle drive—not as many as a man found at war, but enough that it wasn't uncommon to lose a man or two. If Matt kept his distance, it wouldn't hurt so much if someone did die on him.

He'd do one favor for Sam, just to ease his own guilt for not really wanting Sam around. Then he could go back to just teaching him what he needed to learn and avoiding him the rest of the time.

 

Sam had plowed fields, planted seed, harvested crops, hunted game, mended fences, worked from dawn till dusk. She had expected sitting astride a horse all day, trailing cattle to be easy.

It had been anything but. She was covered in dust from head to toe. And bored out of her ever-loving mind. In spite of the thick clouds churned up by the plodding hooves, she'd tried to strike up a conversation or two with Matt, but he seemed reluctant to speak more than a couple of words at time. He had a habit of quickly putting a halt to her attempts by telling her they'd discuss it later.

Which was probably for the best.

Every time she practiced tying a knot, she'd think about his hands and wonder what their touch might feel like.

She didn't understand why her thoughts kept wandering to images of her and Matt together—together with him knowing she was a girl. Smiling at her. Holding her hand.

None of the boys who had returned from the war had made her realize that she was truly growing up, that she was beginning to have a woman's dreams. She thought she might even be interested in attending a dance if Matt was going to be there.

Where were all these strange ideas coming from? Was this the way Mary Margaret felt every time she got near Benjamin? Did her heart pound, her palms get damp, and her mouth grow dry?

Sam wondered if all this was indeed the result of an attraction to Matt. She sure hoped she wasn't on the verge of getting sick, for surely Jake would send her home if she wasn't feeling well.

The cattle began to slow much as they had around noon.

Matt moved his hand in a circle. “We're gonna start moving them in closer to each other, preparing to bed them down for the night.” He nodded toward the west. “Be twilight soon, and we can relax a little.”

Relax. She thought of relaxing at home, sitting before the hearth, curled up with a good book. Her family owned only six, but she never tired of reading them. She always
noticed something new in the story, some small thing she might have overlooked the first time.

It took them close to an hour to get the herd settled. At the camp, Sam turned Cinnamon over to the wrangler who would see to the horse's needs until Sam needed the mare for her watch later that evening.

Standing beside her, Matt pulled his bandanna down. Dirt was embedded within the creases of his face and the corners of his eyes, but the bandanna had done its job well and kept the lower portion of his face safe from dust. Sam smiled brightly.

“What's so funny?” he asked.

“You look like a pesky raccoon.”

“I can be downright pesky when I want to be. Guess I was this morning when I found out that I had to ride with you. Come on, I'll make it up to you.”

He took off at a fast clip. She fell into step beside him. “Where are we going?”

“To relax a little, like I promised.”

They wended their way through the thick copse of oak trees.

“What did you think of herding cattle?” Matt tossed over his shoulder.

“It was fun.”

Matt stopped in his tracks and faced her, boring his gaze into hers. When he wasn't angry, he had the prettiest
eyes, with long, dark lashes sweeping around them. For a minute, Sam wished she wasn't wearing her brother's old shirt and britches. She wished she were wearing a pretty dress. Only if she were, he'd figure out in a heartbeat that she was a girl.

“Truthfully,” he prodded.

She exhaled. “Kinda boring.”

His mouth did that little quiver as though he was contemplating grinning, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

“That's the cattle business. Days of boredom, interspersed with a few minutes of excitement.” He continued trudging forward.

“When do we get the excitement?” Sam asked.

“When the cattle stampede.”

Faltering, she almost tripped over an exposed root. “Stampede?”

“Yep. Longhorn cattle stampede at just about anything: twig snapping, lightning flashing, thunder rolling. It doesn't take much. When that happens, you just ride the perimeter and stay out of their way.”

When? Not if. “You ever been on a trail drive when they
didn't
stampede?”

“Nope.”

He came to a halt. Beyond him, a river flowed. The shade from the trees lining the bank rested gently on the
brown water. She watched in amazement as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. He had broad shoulders. The muscles across his bronzed chest rippled with his movements.

Lifting a foot, he hopped while he pulled off a boot. “Come on,” he ordered.

“Come on?” she repeated.

He tugged off the other boot. “Get your clothes off.”

Before she knew what he intended, he shucked off his britches, baring his backside and anything else she cared to look at. Sam spun around, her cheeks flaming with the heat of embarrassment. Her breath came in short little gasps.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head wildly. When Nate was small, she used to help her mother give him a bath. But her younger brother certainly didn't resemble Matt. Matt's body was that of a man, not a baby. And there was a world of difference between the two.

“Are you modest?” Matt asked, clearly baffled by her behavior.

When she didn't answer, he laughed. Actually laughed. His low-pitched rumble echoed between the trees, circled on the breeze, touched her heart. How long had it been since she'd heard laughter?

“Sam, you haven't got anything that I don't have.”

That was certainly a lie, and she had no plans to correct his false assumption.

“I figured you'd enjoy a swim after trailing in the dust all day,” he added.

She'd love a swim, but not when it meant removing her clothes. Or staring at him in his birthday suit. Because if she did look at him, she'd surely stare at a sight she'd never before seen.

“Whoowee!” someone yelled from the thicket before four young men came running out from between the trees.

“Been waiting all day for this!” Jed yelled. Or was it Jeb?

Sam didn't know. She only knew that they were stripping off their clothes as quickly as Matt had.

“Sam, say howdy to Slim and Squirrel,” Matt ordered. “They ride flank.”

Only she couldn't say anything. The knot in her throat wouldn't even let her swallow.

“What's wrong with the greenhorn?” Slim asked.

“I think he's a tad modest. Sam, haven't you ever gone skinny dipping?” Matt asked.

Without answering, she rushed back through the trees toward camp, with their laughter echoing around her.
Escape!
screamed through her mind.
Run, run
echoed with each step she took.

She heard the splashes as the young men apparently
jumped into the river. Jumped in as naked as the day they were born.

She tripped over a gnarled root and landed hard on the ground. Twigs and dried leaves scraped her palm and skinned her knee. She pushed herself to her feet and hurried on. She'd never expected that boys would be so…so bold.

Only they didn't know they were being bold because they didn't know they had a female in their midst. They simply thought she was one of them—which was exactly what she wanted them to believe. Only she wanted their clothes to remain on their bodies!

Slowing her step, she finally came to a halt, sank to the ground, and leaned her back against a tree. Her harsh breathing made her chest ache.

She heard pounding footsteps, and then Matt was crouched before her. He was wearing his britches now, but he hadn't taken time to put on his boots. His bare toes were curled into the dirt. Little sprigs of hair dotted his big toe. It seemed incredibly intimate to be staring at a man's toes.

She lifted her gaze and realized toes weren't nearly as personal as his chest, heaving with each labored breath he took. She watched a solitary drop of sweat roll into the hollow at the center of his bared chest.

“Sam?”

She jerked her gaze up to his, to those mesmerizing blue eyes. His knitted brow reflected his concern. Dark locks of his hair had fallen over his forehead. Without thinking, she started to raise her hand to brush them aside, to see if they felt as silky as they looked.

“It's all right, Sam,” he said quietly. “I know your secret.”