Free Destiny Wears Spurs by Kari Lee Harmon Page A

woman on the ranch?”
    Cody choked on his first bite. He took a swig of his coffee, his gaze locking onto the old timer’s face. Forcing the food down, he slowly lowered his fork to the table.
    Festus continued, sniffing with distaste. “I know. It’s probably just a rumor. Them boys is always tryin’ to get my goat. I told them, the boss don’t cotton to no greenhorn woman bein’ nowhere’s near a cattle ranch, but they--”
    “They were right.” Cody watched the cook’s jaw fall open. “I had no choice. Besides, I gave my word. I can’t break it. You know that.”
    “Yeah, but a woman? Shoot, some city slicker ranch hand was bad enough, but a woman? A country gal like Cassie is just fine, but some flaky-as-a-buttermilk-biscuit ‘city’ woman ain’t got no business on a cattle ranch. Mark my words, there’s a storm a-brewin’, just waitin’ to erupt.”
    “It may already have.” Cody stared down at the table. He did not want to be around when Monica found out his men thought they were sleeping together. “I made a deal with her father.” He looked Festus in the eye. “I intend to keep it.”
    The cook opened his mouth, looking ready to argue further, but snapped it shut. Throwing his arms in the air, he shook his head, grumbling, “Lord help us all. The boss’s done made up his mind. Once that happens, tryin’ to change it is like tryin’ to find udders on a bull.” He sat down to sulk.
    Cody ate the rest of his meal in silence.
    “Well, I’d better get on out and start them vittles fer the boys. They sure are a hungry bunch in the mornin’.”
    Cody glanced at the wall clock, surged to his feet, and then plopped his hat on his head. “Thanks for the grub. Tell the boys not to linger. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”
    The cook nodded, stroking his beard. Cody turned away before he could question him further but heard his parting shot as he opened the door. “Yep. No doubt about it. A storm’s a-comin’. From the looks of it, a mighty big one.”
    * * *
    Monica hurried her steps, running late again. She halted several yards away from the cookshack, not wanting to intrude, but not wanting to miss breakfast. A pudgy little man stood outside in the morning sunshine, grumbling.
    “The boss ain’t the only one actin’ strange this mornin’. Why, them boys wouldn’t even argue with me. Too busy carryin’ on about somethin’ I know nothin’ about. That don’t sit right with me, no sir, it don’t.
    “It ain’t any dern fun when the boys ignore me, no sir, it ain’t. Why, they can tar and feather me ‘fore I let some no-account, meddlin’ female stir up a hornet’s nest the size of Texas. You just wait till I see ya, girly. Why, I have a mind to put ya over my knee and--”
    “Good morning. I take it you’re Festus,” she sang out, knowing darn well she was the “girly”.
    Hopping a foot, he swung his snowy head around, a snarl etched across what she could see of his tanned, wrinkled face. The rest was hidden behind the longest and whitest beard she’d ever seen. He could have been jolly ole St. Nick’s alter ego.
    “Yer darn tootin’ it’s Festus to ya. Don’t you be forgettin’ it, girly. Breakfast is over. You’ll have to eat the leftover vittles. Next time ... be on time.”
    “I’m truly sorry. I pride myself on being prompt,” she said with a smile. “It’s only recently I seem to have a problem in that area.” She thrust out her hand. “I’m Monica Hammond, but please, call me Mo.”
    He narrowed his eyes to slits and gnawed his thin bottom lip. After a moment’s hesitation, he shook her hand.
    “I don’t want to be a burden. Point me in the right direction, and I’ll fend for myself,” she continued.
    “Ain’t nobody touchin’ my things. Wait right here,” he grumbled without much bite in his words this time, as he waddled away and disappeared into the back of an ancient chuckwagon. A pleasant breeze wafted to her nose, carrying with it the