Free Once Upon a Cowboy by Day Leclaire Page B

holding her gaze with a severe expression, "do not help."
    Her head bobbed up and down. "Yessir. No, sir. I'll wait here and not be a bit of help."
    Pulling his neckerchief over the lower half of his face, he pivoted Loco around and disappeared into a thick cloud of cattle dust. She watched anxiously for Holt and Frank to reappear. Eventually they did, guiding a struggling bull into another pasture. Securing the gate, they rode toward her.
    "Is everything all right now?" she asked, noting their grave expressions. "What happened?"
    Holt took his time answering. He removed his hat and wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his gloved hand. If she thought him dirty before, it didn't come close to comparing to the thick layer of dirt, dust, and muck covering him now. His eyes, angry and dust rimmed, finally turned in her direction. "You see that bull?" He gestured toward the animal ramming the stuffing out of a large aspen in the far pasture.
    "I see him," Cami nodded.
    "He's a Hereford bull. He's part of the herd raised for beef. See those longhorns?" He pointed to the cattle a short distance away.
    "Yes, I see them," she repeated, more warily this time.
    "Those are very expensive show cows. I culled them special and stuck them here because they're ready to be bred. Someone," he continued, "and I can't say for sure who that someone is. But someone left the gate open between the Hereford bull and longhorn cows. Do you realize how much money it'll cost me if that bull sires an offspring with one of my longhorn?"
    She gulped. "No."
    "Believe me when I tell you it's a lot." He leaned across his saddle horn, fixing her with a gimlet stare. "If I ever found out who left that gate open, I'd be tempted to shoot the varmint. Because only a varmint would be foolheaded enough to do such a thing. Especially in these parts."
    "Why especially in these parts?" she whispered.
    "Because in these parts the first lesson kids learn when they crawl out of their cradles is to keep the damn gates shut. First lesson. Shut the gate."
    She bit down on her lip. "Got it. Shut the gate. Shoot the varmint."
    "Perhaps Tex should call it a day," Frank suggested.
    Holt inclined his head. "Good idea."
    She glanced from one to the other. "But I'm all clean and ready to get dirty again. Besides, look what I brought you." She clambered off Petunia and flipped open a saddlebag. She pulled out the towel and washcloth. "I figured you'd be dirty and itchy from all that mud and could use the river to clean up. And see?" She yanked out his jeans and shirt. "I even brought a change of clothing and everything." She frowned at the empty saddlebag. "Well, maybe not everything. I sort of forgot the soap. But that dirt should come off with a spit and a polish."
    "Tex," Holt began.
    She clutched his clothes to her chest and peered up at him hopefully. "Yes?"
    He cleared his throat. "Thanks. That was mighty thoughtful of you. There's one or two more chores I need to see to. It's a one man job, so consider the next few hours off as a... a sort of bonus."
    Her gaze dropped to her toes. "A bonus," she murmured. "Right. Much obliged."
    He reached down and tugged the shirt, jeans, and towel from her arms. "I appreciate your bringing these to me. I'll be along in a bit."
    Without another word, she mounted and turned the horse toward the ranch house.
    "Tex?"
    She reined Petunia in. "Yes?"
    "Don't forget to close the gates behind you," he said gently.
    Cheeks burning, she gave a quick nod. A feather drifted from the hat brim and landed on the tip of her nose. "I won't forget," she assured, blowing irritably at the feather. "Shut the gate and shoot the varmint."
    Keeping her spine ramrod stiff, she trotted Petunia across the pasture. She didn't even attempt to steal a backward glance as she passed through the gate and carefully and deliberately closed and latched it behind her.
    * * *
    Holt lay in bed and settled his arms behind his head. For some reason it felt cold and lonely. He stared