up and swallow her. Finally Jake motioned his friends onward. He turned his horse and loosened the rope that hung from his saddle. He quickly and effortlessly looped it around Libbyâs neck and led her to where Cassie stood. The sheep followed and Max nipped at their flanks to keep them moving.
Jake handed her the coils of rope and looked down at her with his flinty eyes, while the sheep milled around them. âYou have got to be the most gol-durn woman I have ever met,â he said.
Cassie grabbed the rope close to Libbyâs neck and pulled her close. She was having a bit of trouble hanging on to the donkey with one hand and the rifle with the other while the sheep jostled her. The presence of the overbearing man on the horse right before her didnât help much either. Still, she refused to be intimidated.
âWell at least I now know where this donkey learned her manners from,â she said.
What was it about him that set her on edge more than any other man sheâd come across? For the most part she ignored men, only dealing with them when it was necessary. She made sure she was free of any unwanted attention by the way she dressed and the threat of her guns, but this one . . . it was the third time sheâd met him and it seemed as if his plain purpose for being on this earth was to harass her.
âAre you comparing me to an ass?â he asked incredulously.
âIf the ears fit . . .â Cassie smiled sweetly. It was a nice revenge for the way heâd been haunting her dreams lately also.
âAt least Iâve got more sense than to bring a bunch of sheep into cattle country.â
âOh, is it cattle country?â Cassie responded. âI donât recall seeing any signs. Not once did I see anything that said
sheep unwelcome
or
shepherds keep out.
â
âYou know good and well that this is cattle country or you wouldnât have snuck this herd in here last fall without saying a word to anyone.â
âWhat business is it of yours if I have sheep?â Cassieâs voice raised a pitch at his audacity.
âIâm the man who wrote you the letter telling you your grandfather was dead,â Jake snapped back. âSo everyone in the country is going to blame me for you and your gol-durn sheep.â
âYou are the one who found him?â Cassie said in surprise. The kind and thoughtful letter didnât match her imaginings of the man sitting before her.
Jake took off his hat and wiped his gloved hand over his hair. It was light brown in color, thick, and cut short and neat. For some reason, when sheâd thought about the man who found her grandfather and written the letter, sheâd imagined someone older and kinder. Not someone like Jake Reece, who seemed to be put on this earth just to agitate her.
âI am,â he said. âAnd if youâd quit waving a gun in my face every time I come close I might tell you about it sometime.â
She really couldnât argue with that since he was right. Sheâd met him three times and two of those times heâd see a gun in her hands. Still, it was hard to let go of both the gun and her pride. They were the only things that kept her safe.
The sheep were finally under control again. Manuel and Max had them rounded up and back in the pen. Half a dayâs work was wasted as theyâd been trying to separate out the pregnant ewes when the men rode up. Cassie led Libby to the corral. She leaned her rifle against the boards, opened the gate and sent Libby trotting inside with a slap on her rump. Cassie lifted the lasso off as the donkey went by and coiled it up. She walked back to where Jacob Reece waited and handed the lasso up to him.
She took a deep breath and looked up at the man who seemed to tower over her from his horse. âIâd like to hear about it, and see where you buried him, if you donât mind,â Cassie said.
âIâll show you when