Chapter 2
Whitney studied him through half-closed eyelids.
“I’ll figure it out,” she replied finally, but she had been worried about that herself.
She figured she would have to use what little money her dad had left to make a trip into town for some basic supplies.
She had stored all the summer potatoes and turnips and canned all the vegetables she could from their garden.
They didn’t have any hogs or cattle to butcher, and they only had one milk cow.
If she had to, she guessed she could sacrifice Beulah, but then they wouldn’t have any milk or cheese.
She’d even canned chicken eggs for the winter.
The hens wouldn’t lay once it got really cold.
Besides, they didn’t have a smokehouse to cure the meat in if they did butcher.
She had a rifle hidden away, along with a small amount of precious ammunition.
She planned to use it to hunt a deer once the freeze set in, and the meat would keep well in the stream or the woodshed after she and Luke cut it up.
“And just how are you going to do that? None of you even has warm clothing or heavy coats that I can see. You’re a tragedy waiting to happen,” he fired back.
Whitney’s chin shot up. “I’m not totally helpless. I do have some things stored; I know how to prepare for winter. Besides, I just haven’t brought out our heavy coats yet.” She lied about that last part. Heavier clothing was one of the things her father had planned on bringing back with him.
Mac’s eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head. “Look, I have the milking to get back to, but I’ll be back tomorrow. When I come back, I want you to show me what you have prepared for the winter, and then I’ll decide if you can stay or not.”
He would decide?
Whitney gaped at him, then bristled with indignation. “Look here, mister. This is my land and my house. You don’t decide anything for me; I decide for myself. If I choose to stay here, you can’t do anything about it, so get out and don’t bother coming back,” she informed him in lofty terms.
Mac leaned down into her angry face with his big finger pointed at her. “My name is Mac, and you made it my business when you stole from me. That will get you a spanking over my knee. Beyond that, we will work from there and see how it goes.”
Whitney trembled with fury. Spanking? No way was she letting him spank her like a child. “You try to spank me and I’ll put buckshot into your backside, mister,” she warned. “I’m not a child, and you’re not my father.”
He jammed his hat down further on his head as he scowled at her. “Mac,” he corrected. “You don’t get to steal from me without consequences.”
Whitney flushed. “I’ll pay you back if it’s that important to you, Mac,” she sneered. “Just because you have money doesn’t mean you get to throw your weight around. You have no rights here.”
“If I have to get the sheriff up here, I will,” he warned. “But I don’t want to resort to that...seeing as how it’s so important to you.”
Whitney felt tears brewing in the background, but she refused to show any weakness; she just stared daggers at him. She wished that darned turkey hadn’t tempted her. Her plans would still be on track, and he wouldn’t know anything about her.
He bent slightly and lifted her trembling chin with the side of his fist. “You need to stop fighting me, Whitney. You’re in enough trouble with me as it is.
Rest assured, I will be back, because I can’t leave you up here alone now that I know you’re here and in a bad way.
It’s too dangerous, and I won’t have your deaths on my conscience. ”
“We aren’t your responsibility,” she rasped through her half-closed throat. “Just go away and leave me alone.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he replied, grimly shaking his head.
She tossed her head. “Then don’t be surprised when I defend myself, because I’m not leaving.”
He chuckled then. “Honey, you’re no bigger than a mite. There’s not much you can do to damage my thick hide.” Then he pointed a finger at her in warning. “And don’t ever threaten me with a gun again. You ever shoot buckshot at me, and you’ll be eating off the fireplace mantle for a month.”
“You’re impossible,” she shouted, jumping up from the kitchen chair and stomping one booted foot in frustration.
It was either that or try to kick him where she was sure it would hurt—a lot.
The energy coursing through her demanded it, although it made her feel like she was Amelia’s age again.
Only the fear that he might actually spank her immediately if she tried it kept her foot on the floor instead of his crotch.
“What time is dinner tomorrow? I might as well enjoy my turkey,” he replied, his lips quirking up in amusement at the foot stamp.
“Noon,” she snapped, still incensed and trembling. She didn’t have any choice but to accept his self-invitation—she didn’t have to like it. She had no doubt he’d come whether she wanted him to or not.
He turned and strode to the door, then turned back. “Oh...and the name is Mac,” he said for the third time. Get used to it.” Then he stepped out and shut the door before she could yell back.
“Oh...oh...damn him,” she muttered to herself, stomping hard on the floor and slamming her small fist on the table. She winced and rubbed her fist. Too bad it wasn’t his jaw that it had connected with.
She followed him to the door, opened it, and watched him stride to the edge of the woods, then pull his horse out from behind a tree to mount him. So, that’s why they hadn’t heard him approach—sneaky devil.
She studied him as he easily swung a long, heavily muscled leg over the saddle and settled into the seat with practiced ease. Something fluttered in her abdomen. His physical form was very appealing to her—more than she cared to admit.
Now that she had a good look at him, she realized he wasn’t fifteen feet tall—or even bigger than her cousin Billy.
Granted, he was very tall and broad-shouldered, and he practically dwarfed her, but he was a perfect specimen of a mountain cowboy.
If only he weren’t trying to cause her trouble, she might even like him.
Maybe even want to get to know him better.
But right now, he was trouble she didn’t need. How could she get rid of him?
The horse pranced beneath him as he turned to send her a warning look. His hand held the reins firmly, and the horse recognized his master and settled down. How would those hands feel on her? Logic told her she needed to pack up and run as fast as she could.
Her unpredictable heart tittered as those amazing green eyes bored into hers with a promise that he would be back. And something else—she couldn’t define it, but it made her feel funny inside.
***
MAC STILLED HIS HORSE’S dancing feet and sent one last look at Whitney, where she stood in the doorway of the little cabin, her blue-eyed gaze bold and clearly assessing her options—or plotting his demise.
He wouldn’t put it past her not to be here in the morning when he returned, but he had no choice but to get back to the ranch.
He turned Acorn towards the road instead of back through the woods, where he tracked Whitney home.
It was much faster to cover the eight-mile distance on the road, even with the potholes and patchy brown grass that created more of a wide trail than a road.
There wasn’t a lot of vehicle traffic this far up, but after about four miles, the road widened to a more rigid ground surface that was easier to get his Land Rover or the four-wheeler around the property on.
Another four miles, and he was riding into the front gates of Applewood Ranch and headed for the barn.
His foreman, Cole, looked up when he approached the pasture gate where he was watching two wranglers practice roping calves. They were his cousins and were both young, crazy, girl-chasing idiots as far as he was concerned. But they were family.
“Where have you been?” Cole asked lazily, leaning his long arms against the fence as Mac unsaddled his horse.
Mac grunted and shot him an irritated glance. “Had some business to take care of up north. That a problem?”
Cole had been the foreman of the ranch for years and was in charge of the thoroughbred breeding program his father had established from the beginning. No one knew horses like Cole, and he’d have been lost without him after his dad passed away.
Cole shrugged his broad shoulders, his wide, easy grin lighting up his face, but his shrewd hazel eyes missed very little. “Not a problem for me—it was a problem for you to lose a gobbler. I thought they were all sold for this year. Did you find the poacher?”
“I found him.” Mac hung the saddle over the fence and opened the gate, then smacked Acorn on the rump and sent her through.
“Well?” Cole’s tongue twirled a piece of straw around on his lips as the two young wranglers neared the fence. “Y’all get back now. You can’t rope those steers from here, so keep your distance. Don’t want any of them running blindly into the fences.”
“Did I hear that Mac finally caught his poacher?” Blue eyes beneath a shock of blond, unruly hair twinkled at them as Bobby Dixson grinned down at him from the seat of his horse.
Andy’s horse pranced over. Andy was practically a twin of Bobby, and they were both handsome young men who loved nothing more than girls and bars. Mac had begun to wonder if they would ever grow up.
“Congratulations, Mac,” he trumpeted. “You caught him—finally. It wasn’t a little gal, but then you don’t get the same practice that Bobby and I do.” He leered down at Mac.
Mac just shook his head. “You two get enough practice for all the rest of us. Besides, who said it wasn’t a girl?”