There was nothing as pretty as a New Mexican sunrise. Brilliant, blazing orange traversed across the sand and patchy grasses. The cactus and yucca plants were black silhouettes against the deep purple hues of the distant canyon walls. Mornings like this were what she lived for. The anticipation of a roundup, the pounding of mustang hooves against the solid desert floor, the feel of the wind that blew her braid behind her back, and the intense power of the muscled horse under her. Exhilarating. It always had been. Only this time, instead of trailing behind her brothers and her father and the hands, she would lead. She was in charge. They had planned for this. Jonah had attempted to hog-tie her attempts and doubt the traps she’d guided the men into creating at the end of the canyon narrows, but it was going to happen. Today. This morning.
CJ sprung into life, shutting the door of her adobe behind her and slapping her hat against her trouser-clad leg to pound out any dust that had collected overnight from her open windows. The ranch was oddly silent. She frowned as she made her way to the corral and stables. The men should be gathered there. Horses being saddled. Excitement brewing. They’d watched and plotted over this herd for some time. The stallion that led the fine group of mares was a beauty. Chestnut with a white flash down his broad forehead. Of course, they’d leave him alone with a few mares as his consolation prize, but it was the other females they would keep. The fillies and colts had already been born and would be rounded up with the mares. This was the beginning of their season. Time to bring them in, break them, get them ready to sell. A business deal that Jonah would orchestrate. Like he tried to orchestrate her.
Where was everyone?
Intuition began to curl around her excitement and squeeze so hard it threatened to quell it completely. It was as if—no. No, no, no.
CJ narrowed her eyes at the empty corral. With the exception of her well-broke mustang and a couple of older mares, the main horses were gone. The men were gone. Free-range chickens picked at the dirt, and a black-feathered rooster puffed and hurdled in her direction. Offended and arrogant.
“Jonah Sparks.” The words ground out between her teeth even as she placed a well-aimed kick with the toe of her boot and prodded the rooster out of her way.
She covered the ground between the corral and the main house in a matter of seconds and almost broke her fist pounding on the door.
“Señorita.” The concerned stare from Bonita met her as she opened the door. The waft of coffee that puffed through the entryway did nothing to calm CJ. Furious was too tame a word. Enraged didn’t even touch it.
“Where is Jonah?” CJ tried not to spend any of her anger on unsuspecting and dear Bonita, but her struggle was obvious.
The older woman pulled the door open wider. “He’s coming down for el desayuno. Charlie, too.”
“Breakfast can wait.” CJ pushed past Bonita. “Is Jonah in his study?”
Bonita swallowed. “Sí.”
“Gracias, mi amiga.” CJ’s boots echoed on the wood floor as she made her way down the hall. Normally, she would knock, but this morning wasn’t normal.
Jonah jumped as his door banged against his wall. Heavens, if he wasn’t even more striking with damp, coffee-brown curls and his shirt unbuttoned at the neckline with no string tie. His left eyebrow rose, then his right, and then his chest heaved in a sigh he didn’t even bother to conceal.
“A knock would be mannerly.”
CJ had the grace to stifle an unladylike snort. “Allowing me to do my job would also be mannerly.”
Jonah rose to his feet and rounded his desk. He leaned against it and crossed his arms over his chest. He even had the audacity to extend his legs lazily and overlap them at the ankles. Not a care in the world. Of course not. Not when you owned the ranch.
CJ summoned tenacity. This was one battle she had no intention of losing. “The men. They left.”
“It appears so, yes.”
“And who is in charge?”
“I believe Kip took the lead on this.”
CJ bit the inside of her cheek, released, bit her lip, let up, then ground out, “And you authorized that while I was still asleep?”
“Precisely. Asleep.” Jonah’s words were abbreviated and emphasized with the British accent she had come to loathe. He continued. “When you’re going after some of the finest mustangs that will be the financial basis for my ranch this year, Roadrunner, I do not appreciate a foreman who is getting her sleep in order to look pretty the morning of.”
“I was not—I’d given a specific time to start saddling up. I was there. They’d already left. Before it was even fully light.”
“I was there when it was still dark.”
His words cut with the sharp edge they were intended to.
He was better than her.
And he was going to prove it.
Was it ironic or distasteful that he wanted to continue arguing just to watch CJ? The rosy flush had drifted up her neck into her cheeks. Her eyes snapped, dark as coal that should be glowing with the fury emanating from her body. Her body curved in places he wasn’t accustomed to witnessing, as proper women didn’t cavort in trousers with their work shirts tucked in at the waist. She was wrong. All wrong. Which was why he had risen before dawn to be sure he wrangled the men into a semblance of order. These were going to be his horses, his livelihood. She believed he was disconnected? She had no respect for him. She didn’t understand that Remmy was only the beginning of bringing the Appaloosa breed into the territory. Tough ponies, suited for New Mexico ranchers, a potential investment that could only magnify the financial success of the ranch and restore a beautiful horse from a dying population. And if he was that committed to knowing good horseflesh and good business potential, why wouldn’t he have a personal mission to know every facet and be involved in every nuance of the roundup that would support the ranch this year?
“Well?”
She was waiting.
Jonah cleared his throat. “I do believe that you’re asking me to justify my decision to send Kip and the men without you.”
CJ pursed her pretty lips. “Absolutely.”
“Well, that isn’t your place, Celia Jo. It is my decision to make. It is my ranch. They are my horses.”
“You’ve made that quite clear.” Her voice rose, but it also tremored.
Jonah uncrossed his legs and shoved off the desk to tower over her. Well, that was a mistake. She tipped her head back, and now he had the urge to slide his hand behind her neck and kiss her mouth into silence. Bad idea.
“Kip and the men were waiting.”
“I told them dawn. I was there at dawn.” CJ was not going to fade away. She stiffened and stood on her tiptoes. “Charlie trusts me. Why don’t you?”
Why indeed? He had done more than enough to test her stamina. Really, he’d offered her no faith at all. But when he’d gotten up before dawn to be in attendance when the men moved out and she was very obviously going to be the last to arrive, it rankled him. The men were invested in these mustangs. Wasn’t she? Kip’s anticipation was palpable. CJ’s absence was stark.
But honestly? The men had ridden off only ten minutes before she ended up here, in his office. She was right. She had set the guidelines for the men. Kip had been uncomfortable when he was put in charge. He’d been respectful but asked if they could wait for CJ. No. They couldn’t.
Was she going to quit now? It was what he’d wanted. Jonah felt CJ’s angst through the short puffs of breath she blew out in frustration. But now that Charlie was here—it would be mortifying. The old man would see right through him. Would know what Jonah was up to. And it was the old man Jonah had been trying to protect by forcing CJ’s hand into quitting instead of just sending her on her way.
He met her stare. It was steely, but behind the anger, he saw hurt and a wicked high amount of determination. Blimey, the woman was trouble. Jonah raked his hand through his hair. Everything had gone wrong. She was supposed to give up.
And, now, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted her to.