Chapter 5 #2
“What?” The surly question drew her attention away from the window and to Cade’s chiseled face, his expression made all the more harsh by the dash lights.
“Nothing. It’s just...”
“Just what?” he asked in the same tone.
“No need to be a jerk. It’s just that I’ve never heard a cow moo until now.”
He reached up and settled his hat tighter to his head, small wisps of hair flipping out from under the band. “It’s called lowing when they bawl like that.”
“Good to know.” Deflating a little, she peered out the window in time to see a brown body dart away from the truck. A cold chill ran up her spine. “What was that?”
Cade lifted one shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. “Coyote.”
“As in Wile E.?” She hung out the window, trying to get a better look.
“As in ‘kills newborn calves before their mamas can get up to defend them,’” he answered.
Well, that had squashed the goodwill she’d felt toward her favorite childhood underdog. “Thanks for that happy image,” she murmured, rolling up her window.
“I just don’t want you getting the idea that life out here is all fun and games. It can be dangerous and there are things that might hurt you, things you’d never see coming.”
“What, like you?” The calm of her voice surprised her. She’d imagined the words emerging as a shouted accusation. “Is this your way of warning me you’re going to hurt me before this is all over?”
“No.” He sighed heavily. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
They rounded a corner and Emma sucked in a breath.
The clouds parted and the full moon shone down, lighting the world in monochromatic depths even Ansel Adams wouldn’t have been able to adequately capture.
Besides, it was a solely personal view, not something to be preserved or mass-produced. But, in this case, it could be shared.
That she sat next to Cade as the heavens revealed the scale of her surroundings meant something.
She wasn’t sure what. But the outlines of cedar trees, the evenly spaced fence posts and gleaming barbed wire, the black bodies of cows whose white faces made them seem headless in the eeriest of ways, to the moonlight sparking off the fast-moving creek—she shared it all with Cade.
He slowed to a stop, staring at her as she tried to take it all in, to assign the moment appropriate value. But she couldn’t. The whole of it was too large. Forcing her gaze away, she shifted to meet Cade’s stare. “It’s so beautiful.”
“So are you.”
“Sweet talker.” She opened the door and stepped out onto the dirt road. The night air was crisp, colder than she expected, and she shivered.
“People often don’t realize it gets cold out here in the desert at night,” he said, moving around the rear of the truck and stepping in close behind her. “When the clouds disappear, it’ll get even colder.” Cade settled a hand at her waist.
She stepped out of reach, putting distance between them.
He let her go. “Living in the city, you create your own microclimate because of all the high rises and the cement, steel and glass. We don’t have that out here, so we’re more at Mother Nature’s mercy.”
She nodded, only half listening. It would be lovely to lean into him, to let him ease the tension building in her so she could regain her footing. But she couldn’t rely on him. Not ever.
That didn’t stop her from asking the one thing she most wanted to know. “What does this mean?”
He ignored the question, pointing so she shifted slightly to follow his gesture.
A subtle glow hovered around the next rise.
“Those are the lights from the main ranch house. It’s where the barn, stables and bunkhouses are.
That last building is where the cowboys live.
The new guest bunks are situated near it so they have their own space but are part of the regular activity. ”
It irritated her that he’d ignore her question regarding where they stood, but she played along. For now. “How many cowboys do you have on staff?”
“They’re more family than staff,” he said, his voice soft. “There are a total of five cowboys on payroll. The number fluctuates around the seasons. For example, we bring in day workers in the fall when we gather and ship the cattle.”
“Day workers?”
“Cowboys from both neighboring ranches and those who are on the move, looking for work. They’re employed on a day-by-day basis for a flat fee.
It’s usually around seventy-five dollars per day, paid in cash.
” He shrugged and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets.
“Not much considering they’ll work sunup to sundown, but we’ll feed ’em and see to their horses. Even provide a ride if they need one.”
The idea of making seventy-five dollars for a day of hard labor stunned her. “How can anyone make a living on that?”
Cade stared out over the plains. “You have to want it bad enough to make the sacrifices that come with living the life.”
She leaned a hip against the truck, wrapping her arms around herself.
Was she wrong to say that seventy-five dollars wasn’t much for a hard day’s work?
With all that had gone on lately, it seemed she should have learned to temper her words, particularly with the threat of Michael’s ambition looming over her head.
Cade had withdrawn, his gaze focused on something in the distance.
“Something wrong?”
“There’s no shame in a cowboy’s life or the money he makes.” Silence followed his words.
Yep, Emma had sailed across that invisible line between carelessness and tact, stepping right into immediate apology territory.
She crossed her arms under her breasts and then tightened her hold.
“I’m sorry if I crossed a personal boundary or asked you a question without first performing the secret handshake.
” She tipped her chin up and stared at the sky.
“Help me figure out the differences between our lives, Cade. And, if you can, cut me a break in the process. This is my first ranch experience, and we’re going to have to work together through the entire thing. ”
He moved nothing but his eyes when he finally looked at her. “Life out here isn’t based on martini lunches and penthouse living. I don’t expect you to truly understand, but I do expect you to temper your comments and respect our way of life.”
Stunned, she stared at him, mouth working silently as she said a thousand silent things—defensive, definitely offensive, undoubtedly hurt. Who did he think she was? Short of the very little they’d shared, he knew nothing of her, nothing of where she came from.
Thankful the dark cloaked the riot of emotions playing out on her face, she dropped her chin and climbed into the truck, slamming the door.
“If that’s your perception of me as a businesswoman and, worse, a human being, I have absolutely no idea why you hired me.
We might all be happier if you took me to the airport. Now.”