Free On the Mountain by Peggy Ann Craig Page A

wasn’t pleased.  The big cowboy had little patience when it came to dealing with the ranch hands.  In particular, the baby-sitting type.
    “That’s right.”  He placed the equipment he found in the box and laid it on a stall rail next to the boy.  Withdrawing a pair of chaps he tossed them to the boy and ordered him to put them on.
    “Hell, that’s only in two days’ time.  That ain’t enough time to get this boy trained.”
    “Then I suggest we get started.”  Wade looked his foreman hard in the eye and succeeded in having him back down.
    The big cowboy started grumbling under his breath, but turned heavily on his foot and went off to the barn that housed the cows and their newborns.  Wade turned his attention back to the boy who was not having any luck with the chaps.  Sighing, he took them from his hands and proceeded to wrap them around his waist and secure them tightly above his belly.  Bending down, he fastened the straps behind his buttocks and felt the boy recoil.  Wade mentally reminded himself to work on the boy’s squeamish behavior.
    “You’re all set kid.”  He stood up and gave the boy’s bottom a good slap before reaching over and slapping a cowboy hat on his head.  The sun, whether it was in the dead heat of summer or the below zero temperatures of winter, was brutal on the eyes and skin.  Given years at the Circle H, the boy’s delicate skin would become a part of history.
    Tossing him a thick coiled rope made of rawhide he led the boy outside. “Ever roped anything before?”
    He shook his head.
    “Here, let’s give it a shot.”  He took the stiff rope from the boy’s hands and looped it on one hand until it formed a large noose.  In his other hand, he coiled the remaining rope. “The key to roping is all in the wrist.  First thing you want to do is make sure there are no kinks or knots in the line.”
    He handed the rope back to the boy.  “Go ahead and take hold of it making sure not to hold your wrist to stiff.  Go on, right, now go ahead and give it a swing over your head.”
    The boy took hold of the rope as indicated and proceeded to swing the noose above his head, but only resulted in tangling himself in the noose.
    Wade sighed and came to stand behind the boy, taking his small wrist in his much bigger hand.  “More like this, but keep your wrist loose.  Hell, boy, loosen up.  You’re far too tense.  You need to relax and allow your body to move with ease when swinging your noose.”
    Standing with the boy’s back tucked into his chest, he stood inches below Wade’s shoulder, but he still was able to detect the shampoo in the boy’s hair from the cut the day before.  Mingled with this scent was an earthy but refreshing fragrance that Wade wasn’t accustomed to smelling on his wranglers.
    Against his chest, he could feel the boy grow rigid.  He chose to ignore it along with his unexpected awareness of the boy’s scent and concentrated instead on instructing him on the finer details of centering his wrist and forearm to create a revolving wheel with the noose.  Taking the boy’s swinging arm, he drew it from back to front and cast the rope into the air.
    Satisfied, Wade stepped back and had the boy cast his own noose.  His first few attempts failed, but Wade was pleased the boy didn’t give up so easily.  He kept at it for several more tries until at last the noose rose high above his head and sailed through the air.
    “That was terrific, kid,” Wade gave him a pat on the back and went to coil the rope.  “Now all you have to do is rope something and you’ve got it in the bag.  Here let’s give this post a try.”
    The boy nodded, taking the rope from Wade’s hands, then proceeded to try and lasso it over the post next to Wade.  Again, his attempts met with failure, but once again he did not give up.  He kept at it, rope after rope until at last his noose landed squarely over the post.
    Pleased, Wade gave the boy a friendly smile.  He