Half a Ranch, page 8
His hand felt like he was wearing a baseball glove as he struggled into a clean pair of jeans. He couldn't let it stop him. He had to follow Mindy. Incredibly, he'd let her go without explaining what she was doing in his closet.
****
Mindy washed her hands again, scrubbing at both the brown iodine stains and the memory of touching Bret's skin. The iodine stains were nearly gone. The memories hadn't even started to fade.
What, exactly, had she managed to accomplish? She'd discovered that Bret looked even better with no clothes on than he did dressed, and that he'd once worked the rodeo circuit. She hadn't even asked for the ledger books. Bret probably thought she'd slipped into his room to check out his underwear. That extra-large box of condoms was a handy warning sign. He'd want sex that way, she imagined. Neat, professional, and frequent.
Despite the summer heat, she pulled on another long sleeved T- shirt and pair of jeans, then set out in search of Bret. This time, she'd confront him openly. She rehearsed her words mentally. She'd need to be sure that whatever tricks he'd learned in gigolo school didn't confuse her again. She'd tell him that he couldn't keep using his body to distract her from her questions.
She started down the hall and--
"You can't keep swishing your hips and think it'll distract me forever."
Bret's accusation met her before her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the hallway.
Somehow he'd managed to put her on the defensive again, beating her with almost her own words. "My hips? There's nothing wrong with my hips. I need some answers, Mr. Sanders," she shot back.
"Fine. Maybe we can take turns then. Would you mind if I went first?"
Numbly she shook her head.
"This may take a while so why don't we sit in the library?"
He led her into the old-fashioned library, then sat in a leather chair and gestured to another across the table from him.
She couldn't imagine a better place to have it out. With the solid wooden table between them, she wouldn't have to worry about her traitorous body reaching for him. Back in his room, she'd as good as run her fingers over his rock-hard stomach.
"Your time is running out," she told him. "I've got questions that won't wait."
"What were you doing in my room?" Bret demanded.
"I suppose you think I was throwing myself at you."
"That isn't what I was asking. I keep the ranch payroll in the safe in my room. That's why I have a lock on my door. I didn't expect to see you in there, and I'd like to know what you were doing."
"Do you seriously think I'd steal money from the hands?" Maybe the table between them was a bad idea. She'd like to throttle the man.
"I don't know what to think, except that you still haven't answered my question."
"You told me to look through the ledgers, then conveniently managed to forget to give me the most recent records. I knocked on your door and when you didn't answer, I went looking for them."
"You seriously expect me to believe that?"
"I think you're out of turn, Mr. Sanders."
"I thought we'd agreed on first names."
"Very well." Calling him by his last name hadn't even begun to diminish the heat being near him generated throughout her body. "I want to know what you've done with the most recent ledger."
"Think how much time we would have saved if you'd just asked. We're in the middle of quarterly taxes. They're at the accountant's office."
Now it was Mindy's turn to feel stupid. If, in fact, Bret was telling the truth. "As I already said, I knocked. I'll need to look at them as soon as they get back, and I want to talk to the auditor to make sure that you haven't pulled any funny business."
"Unfortunately, there's nothing particularly funny about this business lately. The only good news is that we won't have a big income-tax bill."
"I'll look forward to seeing the evidence of that."
He nodded. "All right. How did you get into my room?"
"I presume that this is your next question."
"It most certainly is. If you can get in, someone else could. Just because you're honest doesn't mean everyone is."
He was kind enough not to rub in her face that he didn't want her sneaking in on him in the middle of the night. Not that she'd actually do anything like that. Still, the idea was more than a little tempting.
"Exactly how sure are you that you locked your bedroom door when you got back this morning?"
"Surely you aren't implying that I forgot."
"You were injured."
"I have a routine. I always lock the door, coming and going."
Mindy didn't know exactly why she didn't tell him the truth. Still, she needed every advantage that she could find. She might be able to use the passage again, so long as she kept her secret.
"You have to watch your habits then. Just when you start to count on one, it can twist and betray you, Bret." She smiled as sweetly as she could. "I think it's my turn for questions now."
Bret looked ready to pick up the table and throw it out of the way, so he could get his hands around her neck. "Go ahead."
She wanted to ask him about that box of condoms. Who, exactly, was he planning on using them with? She also wanted to know what he really intended to do with his money once they sold the ranch. She didn't think she'd get an adequate answer to either question. Besides, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how horrible she found the idea of him with another woman, pressing his body against hers, kissing her lips like he'd kissed her the previous day. Not that she had any real use for him. Her hormones were playing games with her good sense. Mindy figured she would survive: she just couldn't figure out how.
"Well,” he demanded. “Are you going to ask something?"
He put his large hands on the table drawing her gaze to his bandaged hand, then up his muscled arms. Why couldn't he be pretty like gigolos in the movies. It would be easy to hate a man who looked like that. Hating Bret was getting harder and harder.
"Why do you hate me?" The question popped out before she could prevent it. If only she could stop saying stupid things like this!
Bret looked at her as if she had gone completely insane and he wanted to know if he was in immediate danger. "I don't hate you, Mindy. You're doing what you were brought up to do--look out for yourself no matter who gets hurt in the process. I suppose a lot of beautiful women never have to learn to consider other people."
"Beautiful?" He thought she was beautiful? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.
"They go through life expecting everyone else to get out of their way," Bret continued. "You don't hate them for it."
She quickly recovered her wits. He was insulting her, not complimenting. "As opposed to you, who is always looking out for the next guy?"
"I'd be the first to admit that I have a hard time with abstract do-goodism. But yes, I do feel a responsibility to the hands."
"So you want to cheat me out of my half for the greater good?"
"Is that another question?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. I don't think you've given me an honest answer on my last one."
"And I don't think you've given me an honest answer since you arrived here, Mindy. So I guess that makes us just about even."
The sound of the dinner bell interrupted Mindy's half-baked notion to throw herself across the table and grab Bret around the neck and do something to him--kiss or kill she hadn't decided.
"Let's go to dinner," Mindy told him.
"Just a minute." Bret held up his bandaged hand like a traffic cop at a busy intersection.
"What?"
"I'm still having a hard time believing that you happened to walk into my room on the one day out of the hundreds, when I accidentally left the door unlocked."
"You think I picked the lock or something?" Or something. Maybe she better not fight this one too hard.
"Tomorrow morning," Bret went on as if she hadn't interrupted, "I, along with most of the cowboys, are leaving to herd the cattle north. There's a little more grass up there and we should be able to keep a few more of them alive.
"Since I can't trust you here, you have two choices. You can either leave, or you can come along with us. We'll be gone for at least a week so I recommend that you leave. You have my word that I'll send you the ledgers as soon as I get them back from the accountant."
"I have your word? You're joking, aren't you?"
"I've never been more serious."
"In my wildest dreams, I can't imagine trusting anything less than your word. I'll go along on your camping trip or whatever you call it."
"We don't call it a camping trip. I know you have a problem with this concept, but we call it work. Right now, we've all got to work to save as many of the cattle as we can. If you come along, you'll eat your share and so you'll do your share of the work."
"You think you can get a free hand, do you?"
"I'll pay you as much as I pay myself. How does that sound?"
"If it includes graft and theft, Bret, I suspect that it's way too much."
Bret snarled, then pushed back from the table. "Mindy. Every time I think we're having a rational conversation you pop out with something like that. I'm going to eat. If you think of anything you absolutely need to tell me over dinner, wait until later anyway. I don't want to spoil my appetite."
Bret looked awfully good as he strode out. The hard muscles in his arms bunched as if he were mentally choking her.
Mindy sat for a few moments, trying to gather her strength. A week on the trail with Bret would give him plenty of chances to arrange an accident. But she couldn't run now.
Chapter 6
Bret's tongue lapped on the end of Mindy's nose and she snuggled closer to him. From his side of the bed, she heard his contented purr.
Bret’s contented purr? Something just didn't seem right here.
Mindy forced herself awake from her all too vivid dream to confront her cat George, his face only inches from her own.
She glanced at her watch. Five o'clock. George had earned his keep, at least for the day. As great love interests go, a cat leaves just a little something to be desired. As safe alarm clocks, they beat the heck out of too-handsome men.
Her mental image of Bret followed Mindy into the shower. She could blame the way he haunted her dreams on his looks and body-memories of the sensation of her skin against his as she had bandaged his hand. She was awake now. Did it really make sense to credit her hormones with this fascination? Or could it be that she was succumbing to his charms, just as her aunt had? She couldn't be falling in love with him; she was way too old for schoolgirl infatuations. But her reaction didn't seem purely hormonal either.
Bret wasn't a lot like her preconceptions. From what she'd seen, Bret worked as hard as any of the other hands-- harder in fact. While being her aunt's lover might have helped him land the job, it would have made it almost impossible for him to earn the respect of the crew. Still, he'd done that anyway. From that first night, she'd seen the way the men looked to him. She also hadn't missed the emotion that crossed his face whenever he spoke of her aunt. She swallowed down a small catch in her throat. Mindy had never managed to inspire that kind of devotion in any man, let alone a man like Bret.
Although the sun had barely caressed the horizon, summer heat already radiated through the house. Mindy pulled on a pair of shorts and a crop top and set out to see if she could help Sharon get breakfast ready.
Bret might plan on dragging her along on his cattle drive merely to keep her out of trouble. She intended to earn her keep.
For a change, Sharon seemed happy to see her. "Crack a couple dozen eggs into this frying pan, honey," she called out as Mindy walked into the kitchen. "The faster we get this cooked, the faster we can get someplace cooler."
Six hot burners, a refrigerator blowing out warm air in its attempt to keep its contents cool, and an oversized coffee maker all combined to raise the kitchen's temperature well above one hundred degrees.
Mindy opened the refrigerator and savored the blast of cold air as she retrieved an oversized egg crate. Reluctantly, she closed the door, then went to work.
"Something looks good enough to eat," Bret's voice boomed through the suddenly too small kitchen. He was looking directly at her.
Mindy followed his gaze. Sweat made the thin material of her blouse almost transparent as it clung to her skin.
"Sit down in the dining room. We'll bring the food," Mindy snarled.
He raised one eyebrow at her. "I didn't sleep well last night, either." Ignoring her orders, he grabbed a pair of hotpads and carried a tray of biscuits out of the kitchen, returning moments later for the Dutch oven full of grits. He'd changed his bandages, but Mindy caught his wince when he picked up the hot metal.
"I've never known a man as stubborn as that one," Sharon told her.
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't think I can't see you watching him. Not that I can blame you. If I were a few years younger, I might set my cap on him myself. Still, Bret's a free spirit."
"He settled down with my aunt."
"He settled down with the ranch. I always suspected that he saw your aunt as just part of the package."
Mindy shook her head. "I don't know. There's more to him than just money." But was there? Surely she wasn't starting to believe what he told her.
"Whatever you say, honey." For a moment Sharon looked like she might add a comment or two. Then she shook her head. "Help me carry these sausages into the dining room. The boys have got to eat up this morning. They're heading for the north pastures as soon as they finish."
"Already?" Bret had mentioned that they would be driving the cattle north to better grazing, but she had assumed that she'd have at least a few hours' warning. She needed to go into town and buy some supplies, at least.
"That man decides what’s got to be done, he doesn't waste a lot of time mulling over his decision." Sharon slopped some grease out of the bacon pan into the eggs.
For once, Bret was sitting quietly at the morning meeting. A young cowboy Mindy hadn't seen before was making swooping highlighter lines on a hand-drawn map of the region.
"Mindy," Bret interrupted. "You need to watch this too. There isn't much chance that you'll get separated from the rest of us, but if you do, you need to know how to find your way back. There aren't a lot of landmarks, and things can get pretty sticky out there."
Was he really concerned, or was he still trying to scare her into quitting? She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but Bret always made that difficult.
"I'm all ears."
"A lot more than ears, I'd say," one of the cowboys snickered.
Mindy tried to see who was talking but poker faces met hers. Except Bret's. He didn't bother to hide his anger.
"As long as I'm in charge, everyone who wants to keep working here is going to show some respect to the owners. If I hear another comment like that, there's going to be at least one cowboy carrying his saddle back to town. Am I making myself clear? Bert?"
Bret had made himself wonderfully clear. Of course he had also done his best to make sure that none of the cowboys would talk to her for the entire trip. How was she supposed to find out what was really happening on the ranch?
The young cowboy at the flip chart scratched his head and looked uncomfortable.
"Let's finish up, Rob," Bret ordered.
"Right. Well, I guess the important thing is that we didn't have time to repair the three westmost windmills. We'll have to keep the cattle away from there, cause there's no water. We got the rest of them working."
"Rob and Bert spent the past couple of days getting things ready," Bret interjected for Mindy's benefit.
"Is there really more grass that way?" Mindy asked. For now, at least, she might as well learn something about ranching.
"We had a few thundershowers there as didn't make it down here, ma'am," Rob answered. "Every bit helps."
"I don't know what's wrong with the weather this year," Bret explained. "Not that it’s ever what you might call wet here. But this year the rains stop about five miles north of here. If the rain won't come to the cattle, we'll move the cattle to the rain. Let's hope it continues."
"What happens if it doesn't?" Bret had already given her one story, but she wondered if he'd repeat it in front of the men or if it had been another of his lines.
Bret gave her a look. "Well, Rob?"
Rob shuffled, pulled off his hat, and scratched his scalp through his dirty blond hair. "I guess we'll lose 'em. Or sell 'em cheap to a feedlot. Hard to get good value for a starving animal, though."
Bret passed Mindy a copy of the map. "Have you got a compass?"
"I didn't exactly come prepared for a campout."
"I've got an extra you can have." He turned to the cowboys who were watching their conversation as if it was the most exciting event of their lives. "Gentlemen, we'll be leaving in exactly thirty minutes. Eat up and check your duffels."
As if satisfied that he'd done all that anyone could expect, Bret turned his attention to his food.
"I can't be ready that quickly," Mindy told him.
He looked at her as if she had suddenly crawled out from under a log and he was deciding whether it was worth messing up his boot to crush her. "You're coming or you're leaving."
"Can't you wait another hour? You didn't say that we were doing this at the crack of dawn, and I'm just not ready."
"Have you ever seen a steer die?" His voice softened.
"I guess not." She couldn't figure where this was coming from, but that seemed to be standard when dealing with Bret.
"You'll have a lot of chances during the next couple of weeks. It isn't pretty. They fight it as long as they can. Then they kind of fall over and try to get up. If they've got the strength, they cry out, almost like a person. Of course when they're dying of starvation, they don't have much strength. Still, it takes a long time."
Bret made the image horribly real. She didn't believe that even as talented an actor as Bret could create the real pain she saw in his eyes as he described the plight of their cattle.
