Chapter 8
“Got something I need to discuss with you.”
Jameson’s voice in the early-morning shadows of the barn halted Lottie, and her heart picked up its pace.
Had he heard about her lie from yesterday about them being married?
He stepped out of the stall where he kept his horse, and she could see that Cougar was already saddled.
Where was he going today? Maybe after hearing the rumors about their so-called marriage, he’d decided he couldn’t stay with a boss who lied openly about something so big, and he was getting ready to leave the ranch.
She released a sigh. “I can explain.”
His brows shot up. “Explain what?”
She paused and studied his face in the dim lighting afforded by a lone lantern that hung from a beam in the haymow behind them. Enrique was there, using a pitchfork to add hay to the trough for the dairy cow after milking her, and wasn’t paying any heed to her or Jameson.
The faithful old cowboy was used to the ranch hands coming and going. Even so, he never turned his back on her, always kept her in his sight. She guessed it meant he trusted Jameson more than he had anyone else, which was probably why he hadn’t insisted on accompanying them to town.
Jameson had picked up a few of the main signals for communicating with Enrique when no other drifters had shown any interest in learning how to interact.
Maybe the fellow appreciated Jameson’s effort.
Or Enrique figured Jameson was a good man because he’d defended the ranch that first night, had put himself in harm’s way and gotten injured.
Whatever the case, Enrique was more relaxed around Jameson than he’d been with any other man, even Dray.
“What needs explaining?” Jameson glanced in Enrique’s direction too.
After she’d finished her shopping, she’d taken the boys to the house she owned in town—the house her father had given to her and that she’d lived in while growing up.
The Garcias, a kindly older couple, maintained the home and had warmly welcomed them in with a hearty meal.
The boys had enjoyed exploring the house, adjoining summer kitchen, and carriage house.
But the whole time, Lottie hadn’t wanted to be there.
When Jameson had arrived, she’d been ready to return to the ranch.
Fortunately, Jameson had gotten the name of the blacksmith near Corpus Christi, who had a border collie with a litter of puppies.
From everything he’d learned, the puppies weren’t yet weaned and wouldn’t be for another week.
So he’d promised the boys he would ride up to Corpus Christi in a week and see if he could get one of the puppies then.
The boys had been disappointed they couldn’t take a dog home with them, but they’d also been thrilled at the prospect of having a puppy of their own to raise and train, and they’d talked of little else on the long ride home.
Maybe that’s why Jameson hadn’t brought up the rumor about their marriage—because the boys had distracted him from talking about it. Or maybe he’d been too upset to mention it, and now, after having time to sleep on it, he was ready to confront her.
“I was in the store,” she started. “And it slipped out.”
“What slipped out?” His eyes widened, revealing the brown that was always light, almost golden.
Was it possible he hadn’t heard her lie about being married?
“I let it slip that you used to work at the Double T.”
He held her gaze for several long seconds, as though he could tell she was now avoiding answering him with what she’d really intended to say.
She wasn’t exactly lying again, because she had told Mr. Buckner that Jameson was once an employee for the Double T.
But she was evading the lie. She wanted to evade it as long as possible and was still crossing her fingers he’d never hear about it.
He finally shrugged. “Maybe I wanted to brush the Double T’s dust from my boots, but I’ve got nothing to hide if they learn I’m here.”
“That’s good to know.”
Jameson studied her again. He was a keen man, and he probably sensed that the exchange wasn’t natural and she wasn’t being entirely honest. Even so, he seemed to let the matter pass and instead cocked his head toward Cougar. “Enrique is staying home today, and I’m riding out with you.”
So that’s what he’d wanted to talk to her about. She wanted to palm her forehead for almost bringing up the fake marriage. “You’re still healing—”
“I rode to town and back yesterday, and I’m just fine this morning.”
“But if you need to do any roping, you’ll open the stitches.”
“I’ve been using my arm for the past two weeks and haven’t opened the stitches.”
He was right. He’d been hammering away at anything and everything in the ranch yard. The place had never looked as organized or tidy in all the time she’d lived there. Jameson had done a fantastic job and had probably run out of repairs to occupy his time.
“Enrique is fine with staying back today,” Jameson added.
No doubt Enrique would relish a day off from having to ride out and round up the cattle. Even though he didn’t complain, the long distances and hard rides took a toll on his body.
“All right.” She brushed past Jameson. “As long as you don’t overuse your arm.”
He didn’t reply, which probably meant he wasn’t making her any promises. As she stepped into the stall to saddle her mount, he was already leading Cougar out of the barn into the faint daylight that was turning the sky a rosy pink.
As soon as she had her mount ready, they stopped by the house, drank the coffee, and ate the biscuits Mimmi had ready for them. Lottie stowed away the flask and lunch Mimmi always prepared. Then she and Jameson started out in the direction the cattle were grazing.
She hadn’t yet enclosed her land in the barbed wire that many ranchers were starting to erect.
Maybe once she had a bigger herd, she’d need to do so to keep them from wandering off.
But currently, her cattle never moseyed too far, and she could usually find the strays and round them up easily enough.
She was accustomed to the quiet with Enrique and didn’t feel obligated to carry on a conversation with Jameson. He apparently didn’t feel obligated either, and they rode in companionable silence until they reached the herd.
Only one mother and her calf had separated from the rest, and they tracked the pair down where they were resting in the shade of a huisache tree along with a white-tailed deer and her doe.
Lottie insisted on being the one to rope the cow, and it didn’t take long to direct the wanderers back toward the others.
After giving Jameson instructions on where to move the herd for fresh grazing, they spent the rest of the morning guiding the cattle toward the greener grass on the opposite side of the creek.
One of the calves gave them trouble in the crossing, but Jameson knew exactly what to do to coax the baby, coming alongside the creature and gently nudging it toward the mother.
By the time they reached the new pasture, the sun had reached high noon and was blazing down on them.
They found a patch of shade in the low brush near the cattle and sat down to eat the dried beef, cheese, and biscuits Mimmi had packed for them.
She’d included dried apples, which were one of Lottie’s favorites.
During the meal, she and Jameson made easy conversation. Without the boys to interrupt, they discussed the ranch, the methods of increasing her herd, and the cattle drive to the train in Corpus Christi in the autumn.
Jameson had intelligent insights and admitted he’d grown up on a ranch in Colorado, but she could tell from his expression that he didn’t want to share about his growing up or the ranch or anything having to do with his past.
Instead, they talked about the current state of ranching in the country and how the building of new railroads had begun to replace the old cattle drives, so that the ranch hands no longer had to ride the trail for months at a time as they moved the cattle to central and eastern markets.
Usually, she kept her conversations with her ranch hands to a minimum. Most were slightly immature and didn’t have much worthwhile to speak about. Even when they were mature, she didn’t want to carry on with them for fear of misleading them into thinking she was more than just their boss.
But she found that she liked talking with Jameson, that he was knowledgeable and insightful and interesting. Their discussions were friendly and nothing more. He was respectful and treated her like a friend or sister, not like a woman he wanted to conquer.
In the heat of the day, she had to stifle a yawn and squelch the desire to lie back and take a siesta.
“Don’t move.” Jameson’s warning shot out low and urgent.
She froze.
At a soft rattling noise to her left, she knew immediately that a rattler had snuck up on her and taken her unaware.
What had she been thinking to take her attention off her surroundings? She knew better than that, knew that rattlesnakes were a problem on the range, knew that staying alert to the ever-present predators could mean the difference between life and death.
Without taking his eyes from the creature, Jameson was in the process of slowly unholstering his revolver.
She glanced down to her side to see a diamondback rattler only inches from her hand. It had probably come crawling out of the tall grass behind her, maybe had been there all along. She should have checked the area better before sitting down.
Jameson lifted his revolver and aimed it.
She wanted to jerk her hand away, but any movement would cause the diamondback to strike at her, and she wouldn’t be fast enough to get away.
If Jameson’s shot was off by even a little, he would hit her.
But it would be better to be struck by a bullet and suffer that pain than to be bit by fangs that would send deadly venom throughout her body.
At the rattle of the snake’s tail, she closed her eyes and braced herself.
In the next instant, Jameson’s gun fired. She could feel the movement of the snake beside her but didn’t experience any pain either from a bullet or fangs.
She opened her eyes to find Jameson standing above a now-headless snake. He had his gun aimed at it still, watching it intently, probably to make sure it didn’t move.
She raked in a breath. “That was close.”
“Too close.” He kicked the carcass into the tall grass, then scanned the area.
“Thank you for saving my life.”
“You would have done the same for me.”
She liked his answer. “I’m definitely not the shooting expert you are.”
His expression remained intense, and his keen gaze seemed to be seeing everything. “Reckon I can teach you a thing or two.”
She only had to think of his handling of Vinnie and his men to know that Jameson wasn’t exaggerating. He could probably teach her more than a thing or two. Maybe learning to shoot better would help her in the coming days when Vinnie came out to fight her again.
“If you don’t mind giving me a few pointers, I’d be obliged.”
“When we get back to the house later, I’ll set up a target for practice.”
He started to approach her, no doubt to assist her back to her feet.
She pushed up before he could reach her.
Maybe she didn’t want to appear incompetent or weak.
Maybe she didn’t want to connect hands with him, because the thought of his hand holding hers sent a flutter through her.
She wasn’t sure why, except that he was good-looking and sweet and kindhearted. And he’d just saved her life.
Without giving herself the chance to overthink the situation, she swiped up the remains of their lunch and started toward her horse.
Jameson Noble, as wonderful as he was turning out to be, was only an employee. And that’s all he could ever be.