At The Rancher's Bidding. Charlotte MaclayЧитать онлайн книгу.
suitable for ranch life. He’d give her a week, two at the most, and she’d be long gone, very likely back to her home country. He loved Texas as much as the next man, but it wasn’t an easy place to live, not on a ranch, anyway. The summer could be hotter than Hades, the winters cold enough to freeze the teats off a heifer. In between there was plenty of hard, demanding work, wide-open spaces and a sense of accomplishment he’d never be able to find with a desk job.
“Do they raise any cattle where you come from?” he asked.
Her hair shifted like a veil as she turned toward him, the sun catching the strands and making them gleam like polished agate. “Oh, no, we raise oil. A great deal of it. And we export large quantities of steel and cement. Munir is a very wealthy country.”
“Then you like it there?” he asked hopefully. Maybe she’d get homesick and want to go back sooner rather than later.
Her slender shoulders lifted in a shrug of denial. “Women do not have as much freedom there as they do in America.”
Reaching the corral, he placed a booted foot on the lower fence rung and leaned his elbow on the top. “Guess you don’t get to ride much at home then, and that’s why your mount got away from you.”
She lifted her head in a haughty manner and her eyes sparked. “That is not true. I am an excellent—” She stumbled momentarily, obviously remembering the incident. “The horse spooked. Dirt blew in his face. I do not know why he did not respond to my command.”
He smiled at her bravado. Two days ago she’d been terrified. Now she was—arrogant.
One of the cow ponies, a dun-colored mare with a darker brown mane, trotted over to the fence and stuck her head over the top. Without hesitation, Leila rubbed the mare’s nose and scratched behind her ears.
“Her name is Betsy. You like horses?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. Although this one is not as elegant as my broth—the pure-blooded Arabians in Sheikh Ashraf’s stables. Still, she is very pretty.”
“She can run rings around any Arabian you can name when it comes to rounding up cattle. Those Arabians are all show and no go, as far as I’m concerned.”
She sniffed. “If you say so.”
Her comment amused rather than irritated him. “If you stick around long enough, I’ll give you a shot at riding one of my cutting horses.”
Her interest perked up immediately. “You would do that?”
“Sure. We’ll pick you a gentle one. Wouldn’t want to risk another runaway.”
“I promise, if your horse has been properly trained, I will keep him under control this time.”
Despite her previous lapse, Cord pretty much believed Leila. Attitude had a lot to do with a rider’s ability to handle a horse. Leila was so self-assured that most of his remuda wouldn’t try any shenanigans while she had a hold of the reins. Which made him wonder what had gone wrong earlier in the week.
“Come on. There’s more to see.” He gestured toward the adjacent barn.
She gave the horse a final rub between the ears, crooning, “I will come again, pretty Betsy, and bring you a carrot next time. Would you like that?” The cow pony nodded her approval.
Cord walked Leila into the barn, standing back to watch her reaction. He could all but see her delicate little nostrils quiver at the earthy scents of hay and manure, leather, neat’s-foot oil and liniment.
She turned, a bemused expression on her face. “I was rarely allowed in the stables at the palace. This smells so…alive.”
“Yeah.” So was she. Caught in a column of sunlight beaming in through the hayloft window, she looked radiant. Glowing with vitality and filled with sensual promise. It was enough to make a man rethink his long stint of celibacy. Which, in this case, was not a good idea. An honorable man did not mess with a woman who was so obviously innocent. At least in this part of Texas, that wasn’t done.
A mewling sound came from the back of a nearby stall.
Leila peered in that direction. “Oh, look, a kitten.” She slipped into the stall, picking up a young brown-and-black ball of fluff with white paws that looked to be only a few weeks old. “She is so tiny. Where is her mother?”
Cord shrugged with indifference. “Hard to tell. We usually have a couple of barn cats around to take care of the rodents.”
“But she should not leave her baby all alone.” She rubbed her cheek across the kitten’s head. “This little one is lonely and frightened. Hungry, too, I think. Perhaps the mother is injured.”
Her concern for a feral cat raised to fend for itself amused Cord. “I’m sure her mom will come back. Why don’t you leave the kitten there, and we’ll check later.”
With obvious reluctance, Leila made a nest of hay in the corner of the stall, murmured reassuring words to the kitten, then tucked her into the nest as though she were putting a baby to bed for the night.
“I will come back later to be sure you are all right, little one. I promise.”
He gestured for her to leave the kitten. There were more outbuildings to be seen.
One of his hired hands, Joe Piedmont, picked that moment to come strolling into the barn, his long legs so bowed he could probably walk right over a five-hundred-gallon propane tank without touching the sides.
“Hey, boss,” he drawled.
Cord dragged his attention away from Leila. “Joe, this is Leila. She’s going to be our housekeeper for a while.”
The cowboy’s jaw dropped, then he scrambled to yank his battered hat from his head. “Howdy, miss. Glad to meetcha.”
She honored him with a dazzling smile. “It is my pleasure, Mr. Joe.”
The cowboy’s face flamed a bright red, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his scrawny neck.
Cord grimaced. “There somethin’ you want from me, Joe?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Meeting Leila had obviously caused him to lose his train of thought. In a few more minutes, he’d probably forget his own name. “We was wondering when you wanted us to start weaning the calves.”
“Tomorrow would be as good a time as any, assuming the weather holds.”
“Gotcha, boss.” Struggling to get his hat on straight, he backed toward the wide-open barn door. “Sure was nice to meetcha, miss. The fellas will be real happy to have you around.”
“Thank you, Mr. Joe,” she said sweetly.
“Joe’ll do, miss.”
She nodded just as Joe backed into the side of the door, practically knocking himself out. He spun around and hurried outside, moving faster than Cord had seen him go since one of the breeding bulls got stung on the rump by a bee.
Cord stifled a laugh. Getting any work done around the ranch was going to be tough until his hands got used to Leila being there. Which might take quite awhile.
His assessment of the situation was confirmed when Red Galliger happened to amble by while Cord was showing the calving barn to Leila. Ty Thomas and Pablo Ramirez came around to get an eyeful as they passed by the bunkhouse. At the chicken coop, Lester Smith joined the crowd. By the end of the week, Cord figured he’d have cowpokes from every ranch within a fifty-mile radius hanging around.
He wasn’t quite sure why that bothered him so much.
Even the old rooster who guarded the henhouse let out an ear-piercing crow of welcome and flapped his wings to show off.
Leila’s eyes sparkled with all the attention. “So you raise chickens as well as cows?”
“All the eggs and drumsticks you could ask for,” Cord said. “Speaking