Connal

She pursed her lips. “Well…”

He shook his head. “Pepi, if I ever catch him with a bottle, he’s through here, no matter how good a foreman he is,” he said firmly. “He knows the rules.”

“He was making himself a snack in the bunkhouse,” she said. “I just poked my head in to ask if he’d like some of my…excuse me, your…apple pie.”

He scowled fiercely. “It’s my pie. I’m not sharing it!”

“I made two,” she said quickly. “You old reprobate, you’d never fire C.C. You’d shoot yourself first and we both know it, but save your pride and say you’d fire him if it makes you feel better,” she told him as she stripped off her jacket.

He finished lighting his pipe and glanced at her. “You’ll wear your heart out on him, you know,” he said after a minute.

Her back stiffened. “Yes. I know.”

“He’s not what he seems,” he continued.

She turned, eyeing him warily. “What do you mean?”

“You tell me.” He stared at the window, where snow was touching the pane under the outside lights. “He drove in here without a past at all. No references. No papers. I gave him a job on the strength of my instinct and his very evident ability with animals and figures. But he’s no more a line-riding cowboy than I am a banker. He’s elegant, C.C. is. And he knows business in an uncommon way for a poor man. You mark my words, girl, there’s more to him than what shows.”

“He does seem out of place at times,” she had to admit. She couldn’t tell him the rest—that she knew why C.C. was out here on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. But even she hadn’t learned from her involuntary eavesdropping during his delirium why he’d left that shadowy past. He’d come from money and he’d suffered a tragic loss, she knew that, and he was afraid to risk his heart again. That didn’t stop Pepi from risking hers, though. It was far too late for any warning.

“He could be anything, you know,” he said quietly, “even an escaped convict.”

“I doubt that.” She grinned. “He’s too honest. Remember when you lost that hundred-dollar bill out in the barn, and C.C. brought it to you? I’ve seen him go out of his way to help other cowboys who were down on their luck. He’s got a temper, but he isn’t cruel with it. He growls and curses and the men get a little amused, but it’s only when he’s fighting mad that they run for the hills. And even then, he’s in complete control. He never seems to lose it.”

“I’ve noticed that. But a man in that kind of control, all the time, may have a reason,” he reminded her. “There are other men. Don’t take chances.”

“You old faker,” she muttered. “You’re always pushing me at him.”

He threw up his hands. “I like him. But I can afford to. You understand what I mean?”

She grimaced. “I guess so. Okay. I’ll let Brandon take me to the movies, how about that?”

He made a face. “What a consolation prize,” he grumbled. “The poor man’s a clown. How he ever got through veterinary school is beyond me, with his sense of humor! He’s the kind of man who would show a stuffed cow at a championship cattle show.”

“My kind of man, all right,” she said fervently, smiling. “He’s uncomplicated.”

“He’s a wild man,” he countered.

“I’ll tame him,” she promised. “Now let me get those apple pies finished, okay?”

“Okay. But I’ll take C.C.’s to him,” he added gently. “I want to see for myself if he’s eating.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and went to the kitchen, sighing her relief once she was out of sight.

Chapter 2 (#ulink_7d77f848-def8-5fa4-a363-5e1d26bbd540)

Brandon Hale was a carrot-topped maniac, and in his spare time, he was a veterinarian. Pepi adored him. Probably if her heart hadn’t been appropriated by C.C., she might have married Brandon one day.

He came by just as Pepi and her father were sitting down to the supper table.

“Oh, boy, apple pie.” Brandon grinned, staring at the luscious treat Pepi had made. “Hello, Mr. Mathews, how are you?”

“Hungry,” Ben said shortly. “And don’t eye my apple pie. I’m not sharing it.”

“But you will, won’t you?” Brandon leaned down. “I mean, considering that you need your new calves inspected and that sick bull treated, and those inoculations given, with roundup on the way…”

“Damn, boy, that’s hitting below the belt,” Ben groaned.

“Just one little slice,” Brandon said, “the size of a knife blade…”

“Oh, all right, sit down.” The older man sighed. “But I hope you know I wouldn’t share it with just anybody. And if you don’t stop coming over here at night without a reason, you’ll have to marry Pepi.”

“I’d be delighted,” Brandon said, winking at Pepi from his pale blue eyes. “Name the day, honey.”

“The sixth of July, twenty years from now,” she promised, passing the corn. “I expect to live a little before I settle down.”

“You’ve already lived twenty-two years,” her father remarked. “I want grandchildren.”

“You have them yourself,” Pepi invited. “I’ve been thinking about joining the Peace Corps.”

Ben almost dropped his coffee cup. “You’ve what?”

“It would be something to broaden my horizons,” she said. Not to mention getting her away from C.C. before she slipped up and bared her aching heart to him. Today had been a close call. He seemed to be suspicious of all the attention she gave him, and worried that he couldn’t return her affections. It was getting too much for her. A year away might ease the pain.

“You could get killed in one of those foreign places,” her father said shortly. “I won’t let you.”

“I’m twenty-two,” she reminded him with a grin. “You can’t stop me.”

He sighed angrily. “Who’ll cook and keep house and—”

“You can hire somebody.”

“Sure.” Her father laughed.

That brought home the true situation, and she felt instantly regretful that she’d brought it up. “I won’t go right away,” she promised. “And don’t worry, things will get better.”

“Pray for rain,” Brandon suggested between bites. “Everybody else is. I’ve never seen so many ranchers in church.”

“I’ve seen prayers work miracles,” Ben remarked, and launched into some tales that kept Pepi’s mind off C.C.

After they’d finished off half of Pepi’s apple pie, Brandon went out with her father to check the sick bull. “I don’t usually do night work when I can get out of it,” Brandon told Pepi. “But for an apple pie like that, I’d come out to deliver a calf at three in the morning.”

“I’ll remember that,” she said pertly, grinning.

“You’re cute,” he said. “I mean that. You’re really cute, and if you ever want to propose matrimony, just go ahead. I won’t even play hard to get.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep you in mind, along with my other dozen suitors,” she said lightly.