Chapter Six
J.T. had sent the cowhands off to start rounding up the cattle. He wanted a few minutes alone to cuss and fuss and mentally kick himself—and to take a look around their tent.
What the hell had happened back in the cabin? One minute he was looking at Reggie and the next—
He swore under his breath, shaking his head at his own foolishness. One minute he’d just been looking at her, thinking what a handful the woman was, remembering the way she’d enjoyed her pancakes, and the next minute—hell, he didn’t know what he’d been thinking the next minute.
He couldn’t have been thinking at all to be thinking anything about a woman like her. A fool city girl. Worse, one with designs on him. At least this one had been honest from the get-go. All she wanted were his…assets.
So she’d stayed up most of the night and taught herself how to make pancakes and hadn’t burned breakfast to a crisp. So what? No reason to go all soft on her.
She was a damned fine-looking woman so who could blame him for being attracted to her if that’s what it had been for that split second when their fingers had touched?
Whatever it had been, it wasn’t going to happen again. He needed to keep his distance from her. Who knew what womanly wiles she would use on him if he weakened even the slightest. He already knew what lengths she would go to. At least he thought he did.
What really ticked him off was that she’d made him forget all about her late-night rendezvous. He had meant to ask her, not that he thought she would tell him the truth.
But as he led his horse over to the second wall tent, he couldn’t help worrying that she hadn’t been behind taking the distributor cap. So how did he explain her wandering around in the night whispering to someone in the trees?
He started to open the tent and stopped, thinking he heard a noise. He glanced toward the cabin. He was tempted to check on her and make sure she was all right. Uh-uh. He wasn’t going near that cabin or Reggie. It didn’t matter what she was doing out in the dark last night or who she was talking to. Buck would return and take her to town. By the time he and the men came in for supper, she would be gone.
So what was his problem? He knew it was the idea of leaving her alone even for a few hours. Who knew what kind of trouble she could get into?
He glanced around, feeling as if someone was watching him. He knew he couldn’t be seen through the pines from the cabin. Reggie would probably still be doing the dishes anyway. Taking another glance around, seeing no one, he entered the tent. The cowhands should all be out rounding up cattle, trying to keep each other in sight. So no one could sneak back for any reason, right?
He knew what was nagging at him. Luke Adams. He was surprised that the cowhand would leave in the middle of the night without a word. Especially if Luke was the person Reggie had been whispering to out in the woods. Luke’s disappearance on top of the disabled truck left him feeling all the more uneasy.
He’d already checked and knew Luke’s gear was gone. But still he wanted to have a look around the tent.
He checked each man’s gear but didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. He straightened, hitting his shoulder on the tent frame. He thought he heard a sound, a soft rustle, like something shifting over his head. He looked up and noticed something odd—an object had been stuck between the layers of canvas in the frame. He wouldn’t have noticed it at all if he hadn’t hit his shoulder and dislodged it.
He reached up and sliding his hand into the space touched cold metal. His heart leaped to his throat as he pulled out the 9 mm pistol.
J.T. knew that each man had a rifle or pistol on him when he was gathering cattle. Sometimes a man had to put down an injured cow. Or scare off a bear or mountain lion. Even put down a horse with a broken leg.
His camp rule, which he was sure Buck had shared with the men, was no alcohol. And no firearms in the tent or cabin. He’d heard too many stories from his father and grandfather about cowhands getting drunk and having shootouts in the middle of cow camp.
So why had one of the cowhands hidden a gun in the tent? As he stared at the gun he wondered not only who it belonged to but also what the owner was planning to do with it.
Sticking the pistol into his coat pocket, he stepped from the tent, glanced around and saw no one, then went to his own tent and hid the pistol beneath his cot for the time being.
As he exited his tent and started toward his horse, he heard a noise come from the cabin. He told himself he was just imagining the banging sound, looking for an excuse to go back to the cabin and Reggie.
As he looked toward the cabin, he realized he half-expected to see it on fire. It was that damned night mare he’d had last night.
Through the trees he could see a portion of the building and the only smoke rising out of it was through the chimney. But the memory of the night mare coupled with everything else left him anxious.
The banging sound seemed to be getting louder.
He stared at the cabin, telling himself not to go back there. He had six hundred head of cattle to get out of these mountains before the snow hit and the sooner the better, all things considered.
But it was impossible to ignore this much racket. And there was no doubt that the incessant banging was coming from the cabin.
He shook his head and headed toward the sound. What in the devil was she up to now?
REGINA HAD RUSHED to the kitchen, grabbed the largest pan she could find and a good-sized spoon. Out on the porch, she heard the creak of a floorboard groan under the weight of the bear. It was on the porch!
She began to pound the bottom of the pan with the spoon like a mad woman. To her horror, the earsplitting banging didn’t seem to phase the bear. She beat the pan harder and realized she would have to open the door. Obviously, the bear couldn’t hear it well enough.
Hadn’t she read somewhere that bears ate people in Montana? Grizzly bears. Was this a grizzly? Probably, with her luck. From the size of the bear, it looked as if it could get into the cabin without any problem and she had no doubt that it would break in if she didn’t scare it away.
She beat the pan as hard as she could, her heart pounding louder than the spoon on the bottom of the pan. Moving quietly to the door, she opened it a crack and looked out. She couldn’t see its shadow on the porch anymore. Maybe she’d chased it off.
She stepped farther out on the porch. No sign of the bear but she kept beating the pan just in case as she inched along the porch to the side of the cabin.
The bear reared up in surprise to see her. Not half as surprised as she was to see it. She turned and ran, afraid to slow down to make the ninety-degree turn back into the cabin let alone to get the door closed and locked before the bear burst into the cabin.
Her feet barely touched the porch as she flew across it expecting to feel the bear’s breath on her neck any moment.
Climb a tree! She was looking for a tree she could climb, pounding the pan as hard as she could as she ran, afraid to look back—
Something clawed at her shoulder with enough force to spin her around. She shrieked, and instinctively closed her eyes and swung the pan. She heard the pan thump off something solid and swung again.
J.T. LET OUT AN OATH and grabbed for her, but she nailed him again with the pan, knocking his hat into the dust. “Dammit, Reggie! What in the hell is wrong with you?”
She opened her eyes. They were bigger and bluer than ever in her pale, frightened face. “I thought—” She seemed to be trying to catch her breath, her substantial chest moving up and down with the effort.
He rubbed the knot rising on his forehead with one hand and leaned down to pick up his hat from the dirt with the other. “Are you nuts?”
She grimaced as her gaze went to his bruised forehead. “Sorry.”
“Yeah.” He gingerly settled his hat back on his head and took the pan and spoon from her. The woman had beat huge craters into the bottom of the aluminum pan. He frowned at her. “Why in the world were you—”
“Buck told me to do it.”
He eyed her. “Are you sure you got the directions right? What exactly were you trying to cook?”
She mugged an unamused face at him and stepped around him to point back toward the cabin. “I was trying to scare the bear away.”
He turned. “What bear?”
“It must have gone into the cabin.”
He shot her a disbelieving look. “You’re sure it was a bear?”
“I know a bear when I see one. I think it’s a grizzly.”
He nodded, skeptical on all counts. “Come on,” he said impatiently as he started toward the cabin.
At the porch, Reggie hung back. He shook his head as he crossed the porch. The woman was going to be the death of him. As he peered around the doorjamb, he was relieved to see that there was no bear in the cabin but he heard something around the corner.
Moving to the end of the porch, he looked around the corner and spotted a small black bear rummaging in something along the side of the cabin. He turned to find Reggie had joined him, hiding behind him for protection.
“Buck told you to bang on a pan if you saw a bear?” he asked incredulously. He hated to think what she’d have done if he’d given her a real weapon.
“It’s a grizzly, isn’t it,” she whispered.
“No, it’s just a young black bear.”
“Just?”
He stomped his boots on the flooring. “Go on, get!” he called out to the bear.
The bear lifted its head. J.T. could feel Reggie’s body pressed against his back, her fingers digging into his ribs as she held on.
“I said, get!” he hollered again and tossed the battered pot at the bear’s rump. It startled the young bear. He loped off into the pines.
“It’s gone,” J.T. said to Reggie, but he wondered what the bear had been so interested in beside the cabin.
Reggie loosened her hold on him and he stepped off the porch to investigate. He hadn’t gone far when he saw what the bear had been in to. It looked as if a hen house had exploded, there were so many eggshells on the ground. With a groan, he turned to look back at Reggie. She was standing at the edge of the porch, still looking scared.
“You didn’t throw food out here, did you?” he asked, knowing full well that she had.
“Food?” she repeated.
He watched her wet her lips, calling more attention to her mouth than he really needed her to do. She glanced after the bear, then at the eggshells on the ground and the marks where the bear had torn up the earth. For a moment, she only chewed at that soft-looking plump lower lip.
“I wouldn’t exactly call what I tossed out food,” she said slowly. “Just some practice pancakes and a…few eggshells.”
He shook his head at her. “Reggie…” He took a breath, trying to control his temper. “This is bear country. You put out food and you’re going to attract bears and I don’t think that’s what you want to do.”
Her eyes came up to meet his. For a moment, he almost lost himself in all that sky-blue.
“Not only that, having bears in camp is real hard on pans,” he said, no longer able to hide a grin.
“Very funny.” She did not look amused.
He reminded himself that she was a city girl and as out of her element as she could get. If he went to L.A., there would probably be things that would scare him and make him look foolish.
He handed her the spoon and went to pick up the pan and clean up the garbage to keep the bear from coming back. As he did, he found himself fighting back a grin at just the memory of her charging through the woods, banging that pan. The woman was something, he’d give her that.
Men often underestimated women. Not that he thought any man was prepared for a woman like Reggie. Look what she’d done to poor unsuspecting Buck. Look what she’d done to him. He remembered the way she’d looked last night in the cabin, all doe-eyed and apologetic. It still annoyed him how she’d made him feel guilty as if it were his fault she was here.
He heard her behind him and turned to hand her the battered pan.
She glanced again in the direction where the bear had disappeared. “What do I do if the bear comes back?”
He heard the worry in her voice. “He shouldn’t unless you cook up something for him again.”
She mugged a face at J.T. The color had come back into her cheeks and she no longer looked frightened, but her eyes were still large and bottomless and clear as a high mountain lake. It was hard not to take a dip in them.
He realized that the bear had been a blessing of sorts. “But if I were you, I’d stay in the cabin just in case,” he said, knowing that’s exactly what a city girl would do after seeing a bear. And at least with her locked in the cabin, he shouldn’t have to worry about her. Unless she really did set the cabin on fire or tried to cook or— Best not to think about it.
“Just try to stay out of trouble,” he said, then turned and headed for his horse. His head hurt from where she’d hit him and he still had cattle to round up. He hoped to hell Buck hurried back.
REGINA STOOD on the porch, torn between doing exactly what he’d said—locking herself in the cabin until he returned—and seeing him in the saddle.
She hurried to the edge of the porch, peered around the corner and watched as he strode back to where he’d left his huge horse. She watched him swing up into the saddle. If she’d had any doubts how his buns would look on a horse, she didn’t anymore. He was perfect. The consummate cowboy keister.
Now all she had to do was find a way to get him to do the commercial, she thought as she watched him ride away. For the first time, she realized that might not happen. She might fail. She shoved the thought away. Over her dead body!
She stood at the edge of the porch watching him ride up the hillside, mentally willing him to turn, to look back. If he didn’t turn, there was no way he was going to do the commercial. If he did—
He was almost to a stand of white-barked trees, the golden leaves flickering in the morning breeze, when he looked back.
She quickly ducked behind the corner of the cabin, smiling. J. T. McCall wasn’t as immune to her as he pretended. She was getting to him.
Feeling better, she turned, glad to see that there was no bear at the end of the porch. But as she started to take a step, she heard a sound. The crack of a twig off in the trees, then another. Something was out there. Something big enough to break a stick.
Heart pounding, she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the bear behind her. Or something worse, although she couldn’t imagine what that would be.
Hearing the crack of another limb breaking, she turned, thinking it might be one of the men who’d come back for something.
She looked toward the tents, the trees blocking her view, then up the hillside toward the corrals. Nothing.
Listening, she waited, thinking that if it was one of the men he would say something to her. She heard no sounds of the men or the cows. She didn’t know which direction they’d ridden off in or how far away they’d gone. Mostly, she realized, she was vulnerable out there for whatever might be in the woods.
She hurried back inside the cabin and locked the door. J.T. hadn’t said when they’d be back. She tossed another log on the woodstove and eyed the lower bunk. It was the best she was going to do.
J.T. RODE TOWARD the sound of lowing cattle. As he came up over a rise, he saw the undulating herd below him in the wide pasture and stopped to get his feet back under him. This was what he had been born to do. Be a rancher. He loved the sight and sound of the herd, preferred to be on a horse than in a pickup and would fight any man—or woman—who tried to take it from him. And had.
He knew that was what was worrying him. That history was starting to repeat itself. The dead cow. Truck trouble. One cowhand already gone. It hadn’t happened in the same way nine years ago but the similarity was enough to scare him. On top of that, there was Reggie. Maybe that worried him the most because he felt protective toward her. Hell, someone had to protect the woman.
Nevada rode toward him and J.T. knew at once that something was wrong. “I found a dead cow I thought you might want to take a look at.”
J.T. nodded and followed Nevada back through the towering pines. It was cool and dark under the dense green boughs where the morning sun hadn’t reached yet. He breathed in the pine scent, filling his nostrils with it, knowing that soon he would be smelling burned hide.
The cow lay on its side at the edge of a small ravine. It had been killed, its side slit open, its innards removed and then a fire built in the carcass.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Nevada asked, sounding spooked.
Unfortunately J.T. had. “It’s someone’s idea of a prank.”
Nevada looked at him as if he had to be insane. “This isn’t a prank. This is a warning.”
J.T. nodded and looked Nevada in the eyes. “I think someone’s trying to sabotage my roundup. Or at least make me think they are.”
“Rustlers?”
That would be anyone’s first thought. “Possibly. Could just be someone messing with me. I would prefer you didn’t mention this to the others.”
Nevada held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded.
“I would also understand if you wanted to draw your pay and get the hell out of here,” J.T. said.
Nevada seemed surprised. He laughed. “Not a chance. I wouldn’t mind meeting up with the fellow who did this.”
“Me, too,” J.T. said and listened for sounds of the other men. “That’s one reason I want everyone to keep an eye out for the other men.”
Nevada pushed back his hat and looked back through the pines toward the herd. “You think it’s one of your men.”
“I hope to hell not, but I haven’t seen any sign of anyone else around,” J.T. said, wondering if he was telling Nevada because he trusted him. Or because he didn’t.
“I’ll watch my back,” Nevada said and rode off to join the others.
J.T. sat on his horse for a moment, fighting the urge to go back and check on Reggie and listening for the sound of a truck engine coming up the mountain. Then he spotted a half-dozen strays down in a ravine and past them, what looked like a rope noose hanging from a tree.