I awoke the next morning feeling better than I had in years—fresh, invigorated, and satisfied. The weather was absolutely beautiful with a sky so clear and blue it hurt my eyes to look at it. The heat wave we’d been experiencing seemed to have passed, the temperature having drifted down to a more normal range. I drove into town to do some shopping, noting that the price of gas had fallen as well.
Unfortunately, anytime I have such a perfect day, storm clouds are nearly always lurking beyond the horizon. I’ve noticed I often feel the best just before I come down with some bug or other. Perhaps my body knows it’s been invaded and the marshaling of the troops gives me an overall boost of adrenaline, but whatever the reason, I can feel my blood pumping and my heart singing.
Granted, amazing sex can evoke a similar response, but I’d had other highly satisfying encounters in my life. This was different, although I couldn’t have said why. All I knew was that as I strolled down the grocery aisles, I felt taller, stronger, and more beautiful than ever before. I might have been living inside a different body, one that fit me better and reacted more promptly to my directions—the body I should have had all along. My mood never faltered, even after I paid a small fortune for a few sacks of perfectly ordinary groceries. On the way home, I rolled the windows down and cranked up the radio, singing nonstop at the top of my lungs until I drove up to the house.
Dad was fussing about something when I got there. However, his griping didn’t bother me a bit. I flat out didn’t care. A disaster of some kind might’ve spoiled my mood, but with none in the offing, my head remained firmly in the clouds. Feeling the way I did, I didn’t want to have dinner alone with Dad. I wanted company, camaraderie, and conversation. I’ll admit to having sounded slightly abrupt when I told him he could either fend for himself when dinnertime rolled around or he could go to the mess hall and have dinner with the guys.
Which was exactly what I did.
I surprised Calvin with a few goodies for the kitchen and stayed to help him prepare the meal. Then I sat down to share it with them. I didn’t care if Rufus disapproved. I wasn’t going to let him ruin my day. I even hugged Dusty when he came in to help me peel the potatoes, my insistence that they were better with the skins left on having fallen on deaf ears.
I knew the men had been given a lecture about staying away from me, but I’d had no such lecture—at least not lately. I flirted a tiny bit with every single one of them. I even told Rufus I liked his haircut. Saying something kind to Bull was tough, although I did mention that Jenny would adore his mustache, which seemed to please him. When I sat down beside Joe, his blush could’ve set the table on fire. Later on, I wound up pressing my arm against his side while reaching for the saltshaker. If Troy was correct in assuming Joe wouldn’t wash the shoulder I’d patted him on, he was really going to stink up the bunkhouse now.
As I could’ve predicted, Rufus kept any thoughts he might have had on the sudden change in my behavior to himself. That was my chief complaint about Rufus. He was too hard to read. With the possible exception of the episode in the bunkhouse, his face seldom revealed what was going on inside his head. I didn’t want to be the cause of another of his tirades, but I must say, the men seemed happier and more relaxed. I didn’t do anything outrageous. I simply behaved the way any woman would while in the company of male friends.
After dinner, Troy and I washed the dishes. Not surprisingly, the cocky fellow had his own ideas about why I was in such a good mood.
“Someone’s awfully happy today,” he said in a teasing undertone. “Why is that, I wonder? You must have had some really nice dreams last night.”
“You know, I did have a dream,” I said. “It was about this hot, tasty cowboy…”
“Hot, tasty cowgirl, you mean.”
“Not in my dream. Trust me on this one. In my dream, it was a boy, and he was so handsome and sweet and sexy and wonderful and lovable…” I bit my lip for emphasis. “I could go on, but I wouldn’t want him to get a swelled head.”
“You’re too late,” he said, scratching his ear. “That ship has sailed.”
“Aw, what a shame. I was looking forward to, um, polishing the brass, blowing out the pipes, that sort of thing.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” he suggested. “Better not do that too often. You wouldn’t want to wear holes in the pipes now, would you?”
“I’d like to try.”
We probably would’ve kept on in that vein for as long as it took to wash the dishes if Joe hadn’t come in at that point, telling Troy that Calvin wanted to talk with him. Tossing his dish towel to Joe, Troy sauntered off.
When Joe came over to the sink, I handed him a dripping saucepan, which he promptly dropped.
“Good thing we aren’t using Grandma’s china.” Making a man get all butterfingered and tongue-tied was a novel experience for me, and I must admit I enjoyed it immensely—although I did my best not to laugh.
“Sorry.” Blushing, he stooped to retrieve the pan. “I’m not usually so clumsy.”
“What’s your excuse for being clumsy now?”
He hung his head. “I lied. Calvin didn’t want to talk to Troy. I wanted to talk to you.”
This was surprising. “Really? What about?”
“About something Rufus said.”
He was silent for a long moment. Apparently, I was going to have to drag it out of him. “What did Rufus say?”
When Joe took a deep breath, I was pretty sure he was about to regale me with the details of the lecture Rufus had given them the night before.
As it turned out, that wasn’t it.
“He said Dusty was a troublemaker and he was going to get rid of him.”
I frowned. “Troublemaker? In what way?”
Joe shrugged. “I guess because he’s different from the rest of us. Rufus thinks he’s stirring up things to cause trouble.”
“He told you that?”
“No, I heard him tell Calvin,” he replied. “I don’t think they knew I was listening.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Dusty’s worked here for years and I’ve never heard a single complaint about him. And what do you mean he’s different?”
“I don’t think he’s a troublemaker myself. But he is different. He’s a lot smarter than we are—better with horses, better at a lot of things, not to mention better-looking. I like him, and I’d trust him more than a lot of people you could name.”
“So would I.” Which was a bit of an understatement. “Did Rufus say what kind of trouble Dusty was supposed to be stirring up?”
“Not exactly. He just said he didn’t want that kind of trouble around here.”
“Wish he’d been more specific. That could mean anything.” I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had a problem with any of the men. Perhaps it was because Rufus tended to weed out the bad ones, but I’d never heard him say he was going to “get rid” of someone.
“He said Dusty had made too much trouble already, and he wasn’t going to put up with it anymore.”
“I still don’t get it. Since when has Dusty ever caused a problem?”
Joe shrugged again. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because he broke his leg.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I said. “I don’t suppose you heard anything else, did you?”
“No. I’d have felt weird telling Mr. Kincaid, but you, well… I just thought you should know.” He finished his sentence in a bit of a rush, turning a charming shade of pink when I smiled at him.
“Thank you for telling me, Joe. Now I just have to figure out what I’m going to do about it.”
“I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.” He stood there for a moment, as though he had more to say or was expecting something from me. An instant later, he went and gathered up more dishes.
He was quiet after that. I chattered on about something, I have no recollection of what exactly, but I did notice he got more fidgety with each passing moment.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. “What’s up with you now, Joe?”
“Nothing,” he replied, his face a wooden mask and his voice perfectly neutral.
“I doubt that,” I retorted. “You’re acting grumpier than a wounded bear. Come on. Tell me. Or is it just that you don’t want to do dishes anymore?”
“No,” he replied. “I don’t know, I…” He shook his head and shrugged in such a pitiful manner I wanted to hug him.
So I did—which was why when Rufus walked in a moment later, Joe and I were in each other’s arms.
Damn.
It was a safe bet that before long, I’d be hearing about yet another lecture—unless Rufus chose to deliver it right there on the spot. I must’ve been listening to the devil on my left shoulder rather than the angel on my right, because the next thing I did was to take Joe’s face in my hands and plant a big, juicy kiss right smack-dab on his astonished lips.
“I hope you get to feeling better, Joe.” I patted his cheek. Taking a step back, I aimed a dish towel at Rufus, which he caught on the fly. “Here. You can finish the dishes. I’ve got better things to do.”
Hooking Joe by the arm, I left the kitchen with him in tow, not waiting for a response from Rufus. I hadn’t a clue what I was going to do with Joe next. I only wanted to get him away from there before all hell broke loose. Then I remembered I was supposed to be flirting with Troy to take the heat off Joe and Dusty. Thus far, I hadn’t done a very good job. Of course, if Rufus really wanted to get rid of Dusty, I could have supplied him with all sorts of excuses, starting with that kiss in the bunkhouse.
On the other hand, Joe’s job was probably safe, so maybe it was better to flirt with him instead of Troy after all. I wasn’t ready to give up my boy toy just yet, and I certainly didn’t want to give Rufus any ideas. In fact, I was trying to figure out a way to keep Troy on after Dusty’s leg healed without admitting I only wanted him for my own personal use. Although I didn’t see a problem with that, no doubt everyone else would.
Having left the kitchen, I thought it best to leave the mess hall altogether. Joe seemed to think leaving the country was a good idea.
“Boy, am I in trouble now,” he exclaimed. “Rufus thought Dusty was a troublemaker. Now he’ll be after me.”
“I doubt that. Besides, Rufus can’t fire any of you without consulting Dad and me, and I wouldn’t let them do it.”
“I don’t think you realize what working here means, Angela,” he said in a serious tone. “We got a pretty stern talking-to last night—Dusty in particular—and I don’t know if you understand why. Did you know one of the rules for working here is that you are strictly off-limits? It’s not written down anywhere, but we all know getting caught even looking at you is grounds for a lecture. If anyone ever said something like, ‘the boss is really hot,’ Rufus would run him out on a rail, whether you approved or not.”
Apparently this had been going on for a lot longer than I thought. Although having heard the most recent story from Troy, I shouldn’t have been surprised. “Oh hell. I suppose kissing you will get you tarred and feathered?”
“Probably not, but this is a first. As far back as I can remember, you’ve never kissed any of us, and while I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, I’ll bet it causes trouble. I wouldn’t be the first cowboy to get fired because of you, and there’ve been a couple who’ve gotten the shit beat out of ’em.”
“By who?” I demanded, although I was fairly certain I knew the answer.
“Rufus,” he replied. “I haven’t been here as long as he has, of course, but from what I’ve heard, he’s been doing it ever since you were a kid.”
“Why am I only hearing about this now? Why has no one ever said anything to me before?”
He shrugged. “I guess we didn’t figure it was worth risking our jobs over. It wasn’t until Dusty got hurt that I started thinking there might be more to it.”
As little as Joe had ever said to me, I never would’ve guessed he had a thought in his head outside of what it took for him to do his job. I’d known him for perhaps three years, but now that I thought about it, I really didn’t know him at all. Nor could I see what Dusty’s accident had to do with anything.
Unless it wasn’t an accident.
My mouth went dry as I considered what might have happened to Dusty if his saddle had broken anywhere but in the corral. He could have been out on his own somewhere, looking for strays in a treacherous ravine, just as Cody had been. It had taken two days of frantic searching to find Cody. Two horrible, nerve-racking, terrifying days…
“C’mon, Joe,” I said. “Let’s go water the horses or feed the chickens or something. I’m not going to say anything more until I know we won’t be overheard.”
I kept my mouth shut, but my thoughts were racing wildly. There was another difference between Dusty and the other men. He was the only one I’d ever truly looked back at since Cody died. Rufus must have known I liked Dusty and would protest if he were to be fired or beaten to a pulp. But I couldn’t have done much about it if he’d had an accident and been injured to the point he would be unfit for ranch work, or if he’d been killed…
Rufus’s plan, if it was planned, had backfired on him. A broken leg had resulted in me having more contact with Dusty instead of less. Then there was Troy. I wondered if Rufus knew about our arrangement. So far, it didn’t appear that he did, and I planned to keep it that way. If the guys I liked ended up having “accidents,” then Troy might be in danger at some point.
And now, thanks to me, Joe might also be in danger.
I was beginning to feel like a damned jinx.