Free Heather Graham by Maverickand the Lady

“I’m not lying to you. That man is a rancher. Anybody who’s not blind can see that for a fact.”
    “Now he wants to lend me more money for cattle,” Martine said.
    Serita muttered something in Spanish.
    “What?” Martine asked, only to be told she was a stubborn and independent little whelp. Joe started laughing.
    “I think she’s trying to tell you to let the man give you a hand, Martie. God knows, ranching is hard enough. But throw in a few flukes like the problems you’ve had lately, and a saint himself could use a little assistance! I agree with her. He’s a good man. Let him buy you a few cows. I guarantee that he can make you more than enough to pay him back.”
    Martine sighed and sipped her drink. It was good, and it was relaxing. She crossed her feet up on the lounge and leaned back. “Joe, I don’t know what’s going on here, but if you say I haven’t anything to lose, I’ll accept it.”
    “Good,” Joe said simply.
    “How’s the clean air bill going?” she asked.
    He gave her a rundown on the session he had just attended, then asked after Sonia, Bill, and Jim and told her he had just been to the hospital to see Ed Rice.
    “Oh, God!” she groaned. “I have to get back in to see Ed. I haven’t been there in a week.”
    “I’m sure he understands,” Joe said.
    Martine stayed a little longer while Joe told her how Bart was doing with his legal practice in Tucson.
    She decided then that she’d better get going since she was the cook these days for four hungry workers.
    “Joe …” she said at the door.
    “Martine, would I hurt you?” he asked quietly.
    “Not purposely, no,” she told him. Then she sighed, gave him a kiss good-bye.
    “How about that dinner a week from this Friday? Dress up, too, honey, we’ll make a night of it.”
    “Sure,” she replied.
    Back at the ranch she mixed up a huge pot of stew. At eight o’clock the hands started returning. Jim and Bill were in good moods since every last fence on the place was solid again, the stream was high, and the weather people were forecasting more rain.
    “Things are looking up, yes, sirree!” Bill said, pinching Martine’s cheek. “That man you found, lady, is one hell of a rancher!”
    “That man” had obviously been in the shower. Martine jumped slightly when he suddenly appeared in the kitchen, his still-damp hair slicked back, his jeans as worn as the ones he had been wearing earlier but very clean, his shirt tonight a white cotton with rolled-up sleeves that emphasized the delineations in the muscles of his bronzed arms.
    “Pot’s on the stove,” she told them all cheerfully. “If everyone’s in, I’ll run out and feed the horses.”
    “They’ve already been fed,” Kane said, moving into the kitchen. He barely glanced her way.
    Jim told him that he was pretty sure they had a puma down from the mountains since they were missing a few calves. “Want me to take a look around the cliffs tomorrow?”
    Kane had reached into the refrigerator for a beer. He drank a long sip, then shook his head. “No, I’ll go out first thing. I hate like hell to have to kill the damn things, but when they come down after the calves …”
    When his voice trailed away, Martie gnawed lightly at her lower lip while she stirred the stew in the pot. There was a real regret in his voice when he talked about stalking down the wildcat. It was much the same way she felt; she knew that mountain lions were growing few and far between, yet what else could be done when they were killing cattle?
    “Maybe we could trap it,” she murmured.
    “What?” Kane asked.
    She realized she had interrupted a new conversation, that they had moved on to the need to buy more hay tomorrow.
    “The cat. Maybe we could trap it instead of trying to kill it.”
    Kane shrugged. “We can try. I’ll set some traps tomorrow.”
    She nodded, then said, “Well, this is it, soup’s on. We’re in the dining room tonight.”
    Conversation was subdued; it