Chapter 9 #2
Jacob stared, his mouth open, mystified at the cowboy sitting opposite him.
Or cowgirl, more accurately. Kate McGrath grinned at him like the cat that got the cream, her face covered in dust and streaked with sweat, and a man’s hat with a perfectly braided hatband settled firmly on her head.
What was she doing out here, herding cattle of all things?
Did she really just tease him about his roping skills?
He didn’t know whether he should be upset, offended, or throw his head back and laugh.
With a disbelieving smile he called back, “What were you thinkin’? ”
Still grinning, she asked, “When? When I turned the stampede or when I saved you from losin’ this steer?”
“I was referrin’ to the time this here steer just about tore off your leg and killed your horse.”
Her grin slipped a bit. “Yeah, I thought he would get us for sure. I owe you a thanks, I guess.”
Jacob scoffed. “You guess? How ’bout definitely!
You were inches away from bein’ a bloody mess!
” Her smile faded completely. Darn it all.
He hadn’t meant to upset her. What do you say to a girl wearing trousers, of all things?
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I was concerned for your welfare, and I didn’t think you could …
I mean, I didn’t know that you could …” Her smile hinted at returning with his stammering.
Stop making a fool of yourself! “Well, next time, just … rope him real good.” He stopped abruptly. Idiot.
Amazingly, her smile blossomed. “Thank you kindly, Mr. Munroe, I will take that under advisement.”
Jacob let out a breath. Kate absently tapped her knee with a gloved hand.
His eyes followed the motion. Sweet sugar, those were some nice legs, all long and alluringly defined in her faded denim pants.
A button at her collar had worked its way free, and his gaze lingered on the smooth skin of her throat peeking out from behind her blue paisley kerchief.
She cleared her throat, and he snapped his eyes back up to her freckled face.
The corner of her mouth tilted up. His ears went hot.
Since when did he blush? He looked away, rubbing a hand over his beard.
“So, ah, where did you learn to do that?”
“Do what?” she asked, raising a dark eyebrow.
“Oh, you know”—he took off his hat and gestured vaguely with it—“the ropin’ and ridin’ and whatnot.”
“I’ve got brothers,” she responded with a modest shrug of the shoulders.
“Well, plenty of girls have brothers, but I ain’t heard of any one of them doin’ what you’re doin’, never mind seen it with my own eyes. I mean, Miss McGrath, you ride like a cowboy.” He swallowed. “I meant that as a compliment, truly, Miss McGrath, I really did.” He needed some water.
She laughed brightly, her deep brown eyes creasing at the corners. “Don’t worry, Mr. Munroe. That’s about the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
He eyed her. The sweetest thing? Gosh, she sure was strange. But in a fascinating, delightful kind of way. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze wandered down to her long legs again. He couldn’t help himself. The way the saddle hugged her curves was entirely too appealing.
The steer gave a sullen kick, breaking him out of those potent thoughts. He pictured Aaron McGrath catching him staring at his daughter’s legs and hastily cleared his throat. He brushed the dust off his hat and settled it back on his head. “Ah, why don’t we let this guy up and—”
The pounding of hooves interrupted him, and Jacob turned to find Andrew Thompson approaching.
Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He’d come back here to the herd to get away from the taciturn Southerner.
How long is it to Oregon? He gritted his teeth.
There was a lady present, best be polite. He nodded stiffly. “Mornin’, Thomp—”
“What on God’s green earth were you thinkin’?” Andrew nearly shouted as he rode up. Gosh, not so taciturn after all.
“And a good day to you too, Thompson,” Jacob said curtly. “We were thinkin’ of returnin’ this steer—”
“No offense, Munroe, but I wasn’t talkin’ to you.” Jacob narrowed his eyes. So much for famed Georgian manners. Andrew asked again, “Miss Kate, what were you thinkin’ ridin’ after a steer like that? You could’ve been hurt!” His scowl matched the angry bite in his tone.
Jacob looked over at Kate. Her smile had vanished, replaced by a stony mask, her face as inscrutable as a crystal ball. “I was just doin’ my job, Mr. Thompson,” she replied tightly.
“This shouldn’t be your job at all, wearin’ trousers and cow herdin’. This is not your place, Miss Kate.”
Jacob saw her stiffen in the saddle, and her tone turned icy. “I am good at this job, Mr. Thompson, and if I can lend a hand where it’s sorely needed, then I will, no matter how strange it might be to some people’s delicate constitutions.”
Andrew bristled. “And you just had to chase after this steer?” Jacob’s anger rose as Andrew continued to batter her with his words, but he felt powerless, not knowing what to say or if he even had the right to interfere.
Andrew repeated, “You coulda been hurt, Miss Kate. Leave the dangerous work to the menfolk.”
“He bolted right in front of me!” Kate responded incredulously, throwing her hands up. “What was I supposed to do, let him run? I’d never live with myself if I lost someone’s livelihood because it was a little dangerous!”
“And what do you think your ma will think about this?” Andrew said coldly.
Kate seemed to wilt under the weight of those words.
A long pause filled the space between them.
Then she heaved a heavy sigh and looked away, out at the hills, like a prisoner hungering for the sky, longing for freedom.
Andrew rode up to her. He knew he’d won.
“I’m just thinkin’ of what’s best for you, Miss Kate.
Let’s get you back,” he said, his voice all smooth and conciliatory now.
Andrew swung out of the saddle and unwound her rope from the steer’s leg.
She coiled it absently, her face blank, her shoulders slumped.
When he mounted again, she turned her horse without a word and followed.
Jacob felt like he had just witnessed a cowboy cruelly breaking a young horse.
His anger boiled. I’ll tear a strip into that brooding Southerner, Jacob thought.
Let him see what dangerous really means.
He didn’t know what it was about Andrew that rubbed him the wrong way, but Jacob wanted to break his Georgian nose.
But what would that accomplish? What right did he have to interfere?
Hadn’t she and Andrew grown up together?
Surely they knew each other well. Maybe Andrew had earned the right to speak with such authority in her life.
And who was he? Just a stranger sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong.
Jacob sat fuming in his uselessness. What could he do?
He barely knew her, and yet he needed to do something, anything.
Without thinking, he blurted out, “You done good today, Miss McGrath.”
She looked up at him and gave him a wan smile. “Thank you, Mr. Munroe. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Any time,” he replied, tipping his hat.
Jacob sat on his horse, watching her go.
How could a young woman who had enough confidence to buck society’s mold and become adept at cow herding, of all things, be so easily affected by the expectations of the people close to her?
She seemed so full of contradictions. Free-spirited, yet acquiescent; confident, yet unsure.
So strong, yet so vulnerable. He had glimpsed something compelling and intangible in her, something that drew him in like a moth spinning around the mesmerizing flame of a candle.
A distant crack of a whip brought him back into the present. The train was nearly out of sight. He checked that the rope was still secure on his pommel and set off, the steer trailing wearily behind him.