Free Much Ado About Mavericks by Jacquie Rogers Page B

waist.  “One more move, buddy, and you’re possum food.”
    Ben chuckled, which irritated her right down to the roots of her toenails.  Most men would have backed off.  None would have laughed at her.
    “Pretty little filly,” he said.
    Jake focused on the little sorrel foal, running and bucking around the corral while its mother called her baby to her side.  “She is, ain’t she.”
    “I was talking about you.”
    Jake whirled around and popped him one right in the gut.  “Looky here, Boston , I don’t know what you want from me, but you ain’t gonna get it.  I’ll teach you how to rope, brand, and castrate—that last thing might be downright pleasurable—but I ain’t letting you play me for a fool.”
    Ben, with what looked like considerable effort, straightened to his full height.  “Jake, only a fool would ever mistake you for one.  Whatever you might think of me, I’m not a fool.”
    *   *   *   *   *
    Ben watched Jake’s face shine with pride while she laughed at the antics of the new foal. 
    “What a spirited little thing.  She’ll make a good cow pony.”
    And just like that, she seemed to have forgotten his amorous overtures—but he hadn’t.  He shook his head, wondering just how to tame this mysterious creature, feeling a bit guilty that he wanted to.  He’d never even seen a woman wear pants before, let alone do a man’s job, and it made no sense that she’d captured his attention so. 
    But let there be no doubt, she was a woman through and through.  Her full, round breasts would entice a dead man, and he wasn’t dead.  Those blue eyes could melt an iceberg, or stare a hole through a charging bear.  Women in Boston spent all sorts of money trying to make themselves look good, but Jake didn’t have to.  She was, whether she liked it or not, a classic beauty.
    More alluring than her astonishing appearance was the confidence she had in herself and those she loved.  And her optimism.  He felt powerful around her.  Why, he didn’t know, but he should reserve that feeling for Patience.  He’d more than kissed her.  She’d been quite free with her charms, although he’d never taken full advantage. 
    Meantime, his gut hurt—Jake packed a helluva wallop—and his right arm was barely functional after swinging a rope for a solid hour the day before.  His jaw still felt stiff, too, where Big Al had connected.  But he’d rather die than let on.
    “We better get back to the Bar EL, Jake.  I still have to practice my roping.”
    She paused a moment, not taking her eyes off the mare and foal, then sighed.  Jumping off the fence, she said, “Let’s go,” as if it were all her idea.
    Not twenty minutes later, Jake dismounted, cursing like a sailor.  “Some damned varmint cut the fence.”  She picked up a hunk of barbed wire.  “They even left little pieces so’s to cut up the cows.”  She threw the wire by the nearest fence post and scowled as she studied the dirt.  “Looks like at least a dozen went through.  Don’t see no blood, though, so maybe they ain’t hurt.”
    She mounted and took a drink of water from the canteen.  “Let’s go find ‘em.”  Without taking her eyes from the ground, she rode through the fence and followed the trail.
    Ben wondered who would do such a thing and why.  “Have you had trouble with rustlers?” he asked as he caught up with her.
    “Nope.”
    “Well there’s trouble now.”
    “Yup.  Only they ain’t rustlers.”
    “No?”
    “Nope.  The cattle found their way through on their own.  No one’s driving ‘em.  If they was rustlers, they’d drive ‘em.”
    They found the cattle in less than an hour.  On the way back, most of them stuck with the herd fairly well, but a few of the bull calves were of no mind to go along with the rest.  One, especially.  The black muley calf darted away every chance it got.  Jake’s well-trained blue roan never let him get far, though.  Finally, the little bull