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“Oh!” Lifting her chin, she tugged at the hem of her jacket but it was far too short to hide anything. “I...uh, these are my old chaps and I’ve grown a little since I last had them on.”
The grin on his face deepened, and Anna could feel her cheeks getting redder. This wasn’t the way she wanted to start her day. She’d left one lecherous man behind. Yet here she was looking at another one as though he was the grandest thing to come along since sliced bread. She wished she could kick herself.
“You must have been a skinny little thing,” he observed.
His eyes slid pointedly up and down the length of her, and Anna had never felt so stripped and naked in all her life. Which was crazy. She was covered with several layers of clothing!
Desperate to put a halt to the whole ridiculous encounter, Anna tossed the reins over Ginger’s head and swung herself up and into the saddle.
“Don’t worry. The wind won’t blow me off if I gallop.”
A nylon lariat was coiled around her saddle horn, and a slicker and saddle bags were tied to the skirt of the saddle. If she was a greenhorn she was doing a good job of faking it. Still, Miguel found it hard to believe the soft slender woman sitting astride the paint was little more than a flighty musician, a pampered debutante.
Whether Miss Anna Sanders was capable of being a cowgirl or not, Miguel would grit his teeth and put up with her today. For Chloe’s sake. But tomorrow she’d be on her own. He was a ranch foreman, not a baby-sitter or social director.
“That’s good to know, Anna. Hopefully we won’t have to gallop.”
Bemused, Anna watched him swing up into the sorrel’s saddle. Was the man insulting her, teasing her, or was he actually serious? His smooth expression left her without a clue.
The two of them eased their mounts out of the ranch yard, past the last of the cattle pens, then east toward the river.
Anna said nothing as she rode stirrup to stirrup with Miguel Chavez. But her lack of conversation wasn’t a personal affront to the man. When she was riding the range, she was always entranced by the sights and sounds around her. And it had been so long since she’d been out of doors, away from the pressures of her job.
“Your sister, Ivy, rarely rides whenever she’s home. I don’t believe she feels very safe around horses.”
She glanced at him. “You’ve met Ivy?”
He nodded. “She’s more like her father, I think.”
Anna smiled briefly. “I expect so. Daddy never had an affinity for horseflesh.”
“Your father is a very good man.”
It pleased her to know this man appreciated her family. “Yes. Very.”
The two of them crossed the stirrup-deep river, then headed toward the base of the mountain. As they rode, Anna stole glimpses of Miguel Chavez from the corner of her eye. He rose with the ease of a man long accustomed to the saddle, and as she covertly studied him, she couldn’t help but think of all her mother had said about him yesterday.
He’d been married once. A long time ago. And he didn’t date. Why? Anna wondered. It couldn’t be for a lack of willing females. She suspected the man could crook his finger at most any woman, and she’d come running. Except herself, of course.
“Do you have a family, Miguel?”
“Not around here. My mother lives in Mexico. My father passed away several years ago.”
He looked at her as though he found her questions intrusive, and Anna decided she would bite off her tongue before she asked him anything more.
“And I’m not married,” he added. “Nor do I want to be. Surely your mother has already told you that.”
Anna very nearly gasped at his remark. Did he actually think she was so desperately interested in him she’d resort to discussing him with her mother? She’d never encountered such arrogance.
Still, the bitter look on his face bothered her. She hadn’t meant to pry into his private life. Nor was it a good idea to know all that much about the man. But she wanted to know, and that was the most disturbing part of it all.
Several long minutes passed without so much as a glance from her. Miguel’s gaze fell to her left hand resting against her thigh. There was no ring of engagement or marriage. Though he didn’t know exactly how old she was. He thought he’d remembered someone saying the twins were twenty-four or -five. Not that old as far as age goes, but certainly old enough to be married.
The idea put a dour look on Miguel’s face. Women of Anna’s status rarely needed or wanted a man around their neck. And when they did make the mistake of marrying, it always ended disastrously. When he’d first met Charlene, she’d been young and rich, just like Anna. And he’d been a hopeless fool to think he could keep her happy.
“You haven’t gotten the urge to marry?”
She turned a shocked glare on him. “Who’s been talking about me?”
Her odd reaction caused Miguel to study her for long moments. “I don’t repeat or listen to gossip, Anna. I know nothing about your marital status. I was merely making conversation.”
Embarrassed heat flooded her cheeks. Of course he couldn’t know about Scott. No one except her parents knew her intended had turned to another woman before the wedding plans were completely finalized.
Staring straight ahead, she said flatly, “Well, for your information, I’m not married. I doubt I ever will be.”
From the corner of her eye, Anna noticed he didn’t appear a bit surprised by her grim announcement. But then, he’d overheard her opinion about men in the stables. Apparently he’d not forgotten her vow.
“I’m sure having a husband would be a hindrance to your life-style.”
She stared at him, her features wrinkling with dismay. “A hindrance?”
Miguel quickly shook his head. “Forget it. We’d better kick our mounts up. The boys are probably waiting on me.”
Miguel Chavez believed she was selfish. He obviously thought nothing mattered to her except living the high life. She could have very nearly laughed if the whole thing hadn’t been so painful. From the time she’d been a small child Anna had never done what she really wanted. Even where Scott was concerned, she’d planned to make all sorts of sacrifices to ensure their marriage would start out on solid ground. But let Miguel think what he wanted. What she carried around in her heart was her own business.
In mutual consent, Anna touched her heels to Ginger’s sides. Their horses immediately broke into a short lope and the faster gait put a halt to any more conversation. Anna was relieved. The man was like barbed wire. Every word, every glance from him pricked her in the most irritating way.
Within a few minutes they topped a rise. In the valley below, a group of portable cattle pens and a squeeze chute had been set up to make a working ranch yard. Six more cowboys and twice that many saddled horses were gathered around the orange metal fencing. Several yards beyond, a chuck wagon was parked and ready to prepare the noonday meal. Near to the makeshift kitchen, a fire had been built and a huge granite coffeepot hung over the low flames. As she and the foreman rode into camp, the scent of the strong brew mingled with horses and leather and crushed sagebrush. It was a mixture of smells Anna loved, and as she sniffed she was enveloped with fond memories.
Several years had passed since Anna had helped with spring roundup. Since then, Lester had retired, and now Miguel Chavez had stepped in to fill his boots. The fact that her mother had hired the man told Anna she obviously respected him as a person and, also, that he knew his business well. Anna normally trusted her mother’s judgment, but this was one time she was anxious to see if the man lived up to his reputation.
From the moment Miguel had walked up on Anna last evening in the stables, he’d gotten the impression she was far too delicate and sensitive to deal with any sort of ranch work. She was a pianist, for heaven’s sake. She entertained rich people. Riding the desert range and branding cattle might have been in Anna’s life years ago, but it wasn’t now.
Throughout the morning Miguel kept a close eye on her. After a couple hours passed, he had to concede, in spite of her hothouse looks, she wasn’t helpless. She handled Ginger with practiced ease and had no problems heading rollicking calves down off the mountains and into the holding pens.
In fact, she worked with dogged persistence and appeared to know the lay of the land far better than any of the hands. Still Miguel wasn’t ready to admit she belonged out here on roundup. Especially when the work on the ground started.
By the time the group stopped to eat a dinner of refried beans, Spanish rice and hot tortillas, more than three hundred head of calves had been gathered. After the meal was over, fires were built in one of the pens and branding irons in the shape of a bar resting atop an M were thrust into the hot coals to heat.
when Miguel realized Anna intended to help with this chore, too, he was shocked. As she made her way toward the work pens, he took her by the arm and led her a few yards out of earshot of the other cowboys.
“Don’t tell me you have the notion you’re going to join the men in the work pens,” he said to her.
She arched one haughty brow at him. “Of course. That’s why I came out here...to help with roundup.”
Miguel should have expected her to argue with him. It was probably a rare thing for her to ever hear the word no. “Look, Anna, you’re going to get smeared with manure and dirt. You might even get burned or kicked or worse.”
She shot him a tired look. “Just because I’ve been living away for the past few years, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten anything about my upbringing, Miguel. Or are you afraid I’m going to be in the way of your cowboys?”
Miguel didn’t exactly think she’d be in the way. He really didn’t know why he was so opposed to her working on the ground. He only knew he felt a need to protect her.
Hell, Miguel, he silently cursed himself. You ought to know Anna doesn’t need protecting. She was one of those women who prided herself on her independence and self-reliance. If she ever did need a man’s strength or shoulder to rely on, it wouldn’t be a Mexican cowboy like himself.
“No,” he said with sudden gruffness. “I don’t think you’ll be in the way. I just thought I’d save you from the nasty work. But if that’s your cup of tea, have at it.”
He jerked his head toward the pens, where already the calves were bawling with loud protests, and the stench of burning hair and hide drifted on the high-desert wind.
It was obvious to Anna that he didn’t want her working in the pens. She didn’t know if his attitude stemmed from genuine concern for her safety or to simply be the boss. Either way it annoyed her. From the time she’d been old enough and strong enough to hold a kicking calf’s hocks together, she’d helped her mother and Aunt Rose in the branding pen. She didn’t appreciate an outsider telling her she was no longer welcome.
“Look, Miguel, the Bar M wasn’t always blessed with as many hands as you have working here for you today. When my twin and I were born, my mother and aunts were taking care of this ranch by themselves. And even years later, when I was a small girl, it wasn’t all that much better. I know how to work, and I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty.”
“Have you thought what would happen if you get your hand or finger crushed or burned? Your career would end.”
Her expression grim, she said, “If need be, I can face my career ending. What I can’t bear is being cloistered. Ever.”
He held his palms up as if to say he wasn’t going to argue with her. “You want to be reckless, go right ahead. I won’t stop you.”
Reckless. Anna wished for once she could let herself really go. Right at the moment she’d take immense pleasure in slapping Miguel Chavez’s jaw. “But you’d like to stop me,” she said crisply.
He let out a rough sigh. To deal with a precocious woman on today of all days was the last thing Miguel needed. “It doesn’t matter what I want. This is your ranch. I’m sure you’re going to do what pleases you, and to hell with my wishes.”
Anna gasped and was totally unaware that her fists had become planted on both her hips. “This isn’t my ranch, either! It belongs to my parents and my aunts and uncles.”
He glanced pointedly away from her, and Anna realized he was annoyed that she was wasting his time with trivial facts. Well, wasn’t that too bad, she thought. He was the one who’d started all this nonsense in the first place.
“Isn’t that all the same?” he asked.
“No! And I don’t like the impression I’m getting from you.”
His dark brows lifted skeptically. “What impression?”
“That you think I’m—some sort of little princess that has to be condescended to.”
His nostrils flared, and something dark and dangerous flickered in his hazel eyes. “If you think you can make me believe for one minute that you’ve ever had to suffer and struggle to make ends meet, you’re sadly mistaken. I’m not a fool, Anna. You were born into wealth, and you wouldn’t know what it was like to be without it.”
He was so wrong that she didn’t even want to try to correct his thinking. And where was his thinking coming from? It didn’t matter, she told herself fiercely. What Miguel Chavez thought of her was his own problem.
“My mother said you were a good man. Obviously she doesn’t know you.”
Anna turned and stomped away from him. She went straight to the branding pen, climbed the metal fence and jumped to the ground inside. Let Miguel be put out with her, she thought angrily. She was home on vacation. If she wanted to help with roundup, she would.
An hour later sweat was pouring down her face, tracking the fine dust coating her skin. She’d long ago shed her jean jacket, and manure now stained the front of her pink cotton shirt and splotched her chaps. But none of those discomforts bothered Anna nearly as much as Miguel’s earlier remarks had. She was still seething over his attitude, and though he’d been working only a few steps away from her, she’d done little more than grunt in his direction.
“You better watch out, Anna. This one is a strong cuss,” the cowhand warned as he bulldogged the half-grown calf to the ground.
Someone appeared with a branding iron just as she managed to grab the calf’s two back legs. “I’m watching,” Anna assured him, “just hurry and—”
Anna’s next word never got past her lips. The next thing she knew the ground slammed against her back and bright white lights were floating in front of her eyes.
“Anna! Anna, can you hear me?”
The deep male voice persisted, demanding she wake up and open her eyes. Anna struggled to see through the cobwebs floating around in her head.
“Miguel? Is that you?” she asked weakly.
Cool, rough fingers touched her temple, and she realized something was wrong with her head. Pain was zinging through it like bolts of lightning.
“Yes. It’s Miguel,” the male voice answered.
A strong arm slid beneath her shoulders and pillowed her upper body in a half-sitting position. “What...happened?” she asked.
“You’ve been kicked,” he said grimly. “Can you see me?”
Anna tried her best to focus her gaze on his dark face. Her vision was still blurred, but thankfully it was quickly clearing.
“Yes. Was I...kicked in the head?” She brought her fingers up to her forehead. It felt like someone had whammed her with a hammer.
“Right in the temple.”
“She took a pretty good lick, boss,” one of the cowboys that were grouped around them said. “Maybe she should go to the doctor.”
“You’re probably right, Jim,” Miguel agreed. “Can you men go on, while I take Anna back to the ranch?”
“No!” Anna practically shouted and made a sudden move to get to her feet.
“Stay where you are!”
The demanding tone of Miguel’s voice was like a shot of adrenaline to Anna. She shoved herself away from him and stood on rubbery legs.
“I’m okay. I don’t need a doctor!”
Another cowhand retrieved her felt hat from the ground where she’d fallen and handed it to her. Anna jammed it back on her head and tried not to wince as it settled over the goose egg that had already formed beneath her scalp.
“You probably have a concussion,” Miguel warned her.
“I can see, and I don’t have the urge to throw up. I just have an ache in my head. And you would, too, under the circumstances.”
Miguel motioned for the men to get back to work, then, taking Anna by the arm, he led her over to the back of the chuck wagon where the two of them would be out of sight from the others.
“Why are you continuing to argue with me? You were briefly knocked out cold!” he told her, his voice rough with frustration. “I want you to swallow a couple of pain pills, and then I’m going to ride with you back to the ranch.”
“Why? I don’t need to go back to the ranch.”
He glared at her with angry disbelief, and Anna wished she had the strength to knock the know-it-all look off his face.
“You didn’t need to be down in the branding pen, either,” he said, “but you wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Oh, sure, throw that up to me! I’m sure it tickles you to death to be able to say ‘I told you so.”’
