The Rough and Ready Rancher

Flint turned to glare at his housekeeper. “Dammit, Whiskers. I don’t—”

“Save it, boy. I’ve had the oven on this mornin’ and there’s already plenty of hot air in this kitchen.” Whiskers moved to the table to stack plates. “If I was forty years younger, I’d lasso her myself. Mark my words, that little gal’s a keeper if ever I seen one.”

“I have no intention of keeping her or any other woman.” Flint’s scowl deepened. “If you’ll remember, I gave it a try and it turned out to be a disaster.”

Whiskers waved a spoon at Flint. “Any time you play with a wildcat, you’re bound to get scratched. I told you about that woman before you ever got yourself hitched up to her. She’s the very reason you’re gun-shy now.”

“I’m not gun-shy.” Flint shook his head. “I just don’t intend to make the same mistake twice. That’s all.”

“There ain’t no way you could with Jenna.”

“Just when did you become an expert on women?”

Whiskers put the dishes in the sink and poured them each a cup of coffee. Motioning for Flint to take a seat, he lowered himself into a chair on the opposite side of the big oak table. “You can tell a quarter horse from a Thoroughbred, cain’t you?”

Flint knew he should let the matter drop, but instead of walking away, he sat down. “What do horses have to do with women?”

Whiskers grinned. “Jenna’s like a quarter horse—”

Flint laughed. “I’m sure she’d be flattered by the comparison.”

“Are you gonna shut your trap and listen?”

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“Well, like I was sayin’, she’s pretty, but she’s got a lot of heart, too. She don’t let things make her skittish when there’s a job to be done.” Whiskers nodded. “Yessiree, when the chips are down, she’d be right there givin’ all she had and wouldn’t give up until she couldn’t go no more—just like a quarter horse.” The old man’s voice took on a disgusted tone. “On the other hand, Nicole was a true Thoroughbred. A real beauty to look at, but flighty and temperamental as hell. Give her a cross-eyed stare and she couldn’t even make it to the startin’ gate, let alone run the race.”

“But there’s one thing you’re forgetting,” Flint reminded him.

Puzzled, Whiskers scratched his beard. “What?”

“I don’t need a woman. I’m happy with my life. I have Ryan and the ranch—”

“Horse spit! You and Ryan rattle around this place like BBs in a boxcar. A house this size needs a whole passel of kids. And you need a little gal like Jenna to cozy up to so you can get ’em.”

His cup halfway to his mouth, Flint stopped to glare at the old man. “Have you lost your mind, Whiskers? I just met the woman yesterday.”

“And you’ve been in a hot fizz ever since,” Whiskers shot back.

Flint gritted his teeth, then lied right through them. “I have not. As far as I’m concerned, Jenna Adams is an employee—the same as Brad or any of the others.”

Whiskers shook his head and got to his feet to start the dishes. “I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d be callin’ Flint McCray a liar.”

Without a word, Flint placed his cup on the table, rose from his chair and left the house. He stopped in the middle of the ranch yard, his hands clenched into tight fists. He took a deep breath in order to calm himself.

But in all honesty, being called a liar wasn’t what had Flint’s anger close to the boiling point. It was the truth in Whiskers’s words. The old man’s observations had been right on the money. He had been tied in knots since Jenna’s arrival. And Flint didn’t like at all that it was so damned obvious.

Jenna shortened the lunge line until Satin became more manageable. She loped him in a tight circle around her for a few more minutes, then tied him to a post for grooming. She recognized the signs of an active mind and an over-abundance of energy. But unlike some horses she’d trained, he wasn’t rebellious and difficult.

He did have a tendency to become aggressive and try to charge when excited or frightened, but she knew it stemmed more from him being a stallion and pasture raised, than from a hatred of humans. Once he learned there was nothing to fear, she would train him to channel his spirited nature into a constructive pattern and turn him into a champion reining horse.

“Hi,” she said when she noticed Flint standing at the fence. She’d wondered how long it would take him to check on the progress she was making with his prized stallion.

“How did it go this morning?” he asked after she’d turned the horse into the small pasture behind the corral.

“Pretty good.” She coiled the rope she held. “He has a lot of potential.”

“He seems to have settled well.”

“High-energy horses usually do, if you can keep them from getting bored.” She turned to watch the stallion gallop across the pasture. “That’s why I prefer a varied program for horses like Satin. His temperament can’t tolerate the monotony of constant drilling exercises.”

“What do you have planned this afternoon?”

“Nothing.” She let herself out of the enclosure. “He’s had enough for now. Tomorrow I’ll repeat what he’s learned today and introduce a new activity or two.” She shrugged. “The next day I may only work with him for a half hour or so.”

Flint scowled. “Isn’t that wasting time?”

“No.” She started for the house. “It’s a precaution.”

He caught her by the arm. “Since my money is paying for this, would you care to elaborate?”

Jenna felt the tingling begin where his hand clasped her upper arm, then make a beeline to the pit of her belly. Why did he have to do that? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone and let her do her job?

Her gaze locked with Flint’s a moment before she pried his fingers, one by one, from her arm and turned to walk away.

“You didn’t answer me. I want to know why you’re wasting the afternoon.”

She needed to escape his disturbing presence in order to regain her equilibrium. But Mr. Can’t-Leave-Well-Enough-Alone wasn’t about to cooperate.

She turned to face him, her voice terse. “Satin has a high mental energy as well as physical. That has to be taken into account when planning his training.” When Flint’s scowl deepened, she blew out an exasperated breath. “Wouldn’t you say you’re a person with a lot of drive?”