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  “All right,” Caleb said with a nod. “Take a nice even breath, and when you feel ready, go ahead.”

  Will fired the revolver and a can flew into the air. “I got one.” He grinned at Caleb over his shoulder before shooting again. This time the bullet flew wild. “What’d I do wrong that time?”

  Caleb chuckled. “You just gotta practice relaxing and getting your sights lined up. Then you’ll be able to hit all four cans in seconds. May I?” He extended his hand toward Will’s gun.

  “Sure.” The boy placed the gun in Caleb’s grasp. “You wanna try all four?”

  “You bet. I’ve got to show you how’s it done.”

  Will slipped between the fence posts to retrieve the can he’d hit. He set it up beside the others and returned to Caleb’s side.

  Caleb aimed the gun at the first can, his eyes narrowing. His mind cleared and instinct replaced thoughts. He squeezed the trigger and shot the first can from the post with a satisfying crack of metal on metal. He dropped the second and third cans just as quickly.

  He paused for a split second to readjust his aim and squeezed the trigger, but the last can shot up into the air before he could hit it. His bullet sailed over the empty fence post. Turning his head, he saw Jennie lower her pistol to her side, a pleased smile on her face.

  “Thought I needed some help?” he teased.

  “No. I thought I’d join in the fun.” She walked over to them.

  “Caleb was helping me,” Will said. “I even hit a can off myself.”

  “That’s great, Will.” Jennie glanced from him to Caleb. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” He liked the note of admiration he heard in her question.

  “My uncle was a sheriff up north. Whenever he came to visit, he’d take me out back and make me target practice until we couldn’t see the cans in the dark.” Caleb passed the revolver back to Will. “Keep at it, Will, and you’ll be a crack shot like your sister.”

  Will beamed and hurried back to the fence to set up the cans again. Caleb started for the house. Jennie fell into step beside him.

  “Thanks...for teaching him,” she said, her voice low.

  Caleb turned to see Will taking aim. “Mind my asking why you haven’t taught him?”

  “I guess I didn’t see the need. He’s not quite fifteen.”

  “Every young man wants to learn to shoot.” He allowed her to go ahead of him up the porch steps. “He’d probably prove to be a real good cowhand, too, if given the chance.”

  Jennie clenched her jaw. He’d made a mistake telling her what to do.

  “Not that I want him taking over my job, mind you,” Caleb quickly added with a smile.

  Her face relaxed as she stepped through the front door. “You know anything about roping?”

  “Sure. I roped stumps as a child. Even caught the family dog a time or two.”

  Jennie laughed as she shut the door behind them. Caleb liked the singsong inflection. He hadn’t made a pretty girl laugh in a long time.

  “I meant, have you ever roped something moving?” she asked.

  “You should’ve seen how that dog ran.”

  She shook her head, her brown eyes still bright with amusement. “Have you used a lasso before?”

  “Not exactly,” he said, “but I can assure you, Miss Jones, I can handle any job you throw at me.” Compared to bounty hunting, cattle ranching looked as simple as babysitting a bunch of cows.

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Well, then. Let’s see how well you do tomorrow. You can practice with a lasso and a sawhorse.”

  “Sounds easy enough.”

  * * *

  The next morning he opened his door to find a bright bandanna, a lasso and a newer pair of boots waiting for him on the landing. Slipping back inside his room, he tied the bandanna around his neck and replaced his old shoes with the new ones. With a slight twist of apprehension in his gut at his boasting the night before, he swung the lasso over his shoulder and headed downstairs for breakfast.

  The aroma of fried eggs and biscuits greeted him as he stepped into the kitchen. He joined the family at the table, hanging his hat and the lasso on the corner of his chair. “Smells delicious,” he said. He ladled food onto his empty plate and began to eat.

  “Have another.” Grandma Jones pushed the platter of biscuits toward him. “It’s going to be a long day.”

  Caleb heard the snickers and caught the meaningful glance that passed between Jennie and Will. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Look, Will,” Jennie said from behind her cup. “It’s our very own mail-order cowboy.”

  “What’s that?” Caleb stabbed another bite of eggs.

  “A cowboy with all the right getup,” Will volunteered, “but no experience.”

  Caleb wagged his fork at the boy. “I’ve got experience, boy. It just ain’t in cow handling.”

  “Well, that will change in the next few days.” Jennie stood and cleared away her dishes. Instead of a dress, she wore a billowy blouse and breeches. Caleb had never met a woman who liked wearing men’s pants—his mother and sisters had always worn skirts or dresses, even to work around the farm.

  “All right, you two.” Grandma Jones frowned at her grandchildren but she couldn’t keep it up for long. The twinkle in her eyes betrayed how much she enjoyed their bantering. “Go easy on him this week.”

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Jones.” Caleb leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms, regarding Jennie. “I’m always game for a challenge.”

  After breakfast, lasso over his shoulder, he trailed Jennie outside, trying his best to appear unaffected by his new responsibilities. The apprehension in his stomach grew and he wished he’d declined his third biscuit.

  Jennie easily vaulted the corral fence, dropping to her feet on the other side, and Caleb followed suit. She went to the sawhorse sitting on one side of the corral and dragged it into the center.

  “Let me see your lasso,” she said. He handed her the rope. “It’s really quite simple. The trick is to keep your wrist relaxed as you swing and then extend your arm toward the sawhorse as you release.”

  She held the coils of rope in one hand as she spun the looped end over her head with the other. In one fluid motion, her wrist dropped and she thrust the lasso forward. The loop sailed through the air and around the neck of the sawhorse. She jerked the rope tight.

  “Any questions?”

  Caleb’s jaw went slack with surprise. She made cattle roping appear as easy as walking. Embarrassed to ask her to repeat the lightning-speed lesson, he cleared his throat. “If I do have questions?”

  “I’m going to start work on the fence down by the bunkhouse. You can find me there.”

  Caleb watched her walk away, her long braid swishing against her back, then he straightened his shoulders and marched over to the sawhorse. “I’ve tracked down wanted criminals before, how hard can this be?” he muttered as he unhooked the lasso.

  He backed up a few feet, swung the end of the lasso like Jennie had, and released. The rope flew through the air and landed in the dirt, a good six feet from the sawhorse. His second and third throws landed closer, but the only thing hitting the “cow” square on was the dust.

  Several more attempts had him working up a sweat—but with nothing to show for it. Blowing out his breath, Caleb admitted he’d met his match with cattle ranching. But he’d made a promise to Jennie to work this job for six weeks, and he intended to keep his word. Somehow, he needed to figure this out. And right now, it looked as if the only way was to admit he couldn’t do this one on his own and ask for help.

  He’d paid a heavy price in the past for his pride and vanity, and he wouldn’t do it again. Climbing over the fence, he headed in Jennie’s direction, hoping she wouldn’t gloat too much.

  Chapter Five

  Jennie pushed down on the post in her hands and secured it into the hole she’d dug. Stepping back, she scrutinized her work. Another rail, and the fence would be nearly as good as new.

  He
aring footsteps, she turned to see Caleb approaching. “Have you mastered it already?” she called to him.

  “I came to ask for another lesson,” he said, stopping a few feet from where she stood.

  Jennie stared at him for a moment before deciding she could spare a few minutes. “One more,” she finally said, wiping her grimy hands on her breeches.

  “Show me what you’re doing,” she said when they arrived back at the corral.

  Caleb demonstrated tossing the lasso, but he missed the sawhorse by a foot.

  “You need to rotate your wrist a little more as you’re spinning the rope, and make sure the loop is open to the sawhorse before you release.” She picked up his rope and swung it over her head, feeling the motion, anticipating the release. At the right moment, she dropped her arm and sent the loop around the sawhorse. “Did you see that?”

  Caleb’s brow furrowed, but he dipped his head in answer.

  “Here, we’ll try one together.” Jennie moved behind him and helped him position the coils correctly in his left hand. Stepping to his side, she placed her hand over his right wrist and let her other hand rest at the center of his back.

  “Start to swing the loop,” she directed, her hand moving with his. His gaze darted to hers, and she laughed. “Don’t look at me, cowboy. Keep watching your target. On the range, that calf is going to move fast. You have to train your eye to follow the cow’s moving feet.” She waited for him to relax his wrist, then continued her instructions. “Using the forward momentum, when you’re ready, drop your wrist in line with your shoulder and let go.”

  After a few more swings, Caleb lowered his wrist and released the lasso. Jennie watched with held breath as the rope flew through the air and circled the neck of the sawhorse.

  “Wahoo!” Caleb threw his hat into the air.

  “You’re not done,” Jennie said with a laugh. “You have to pull the rope tight or he’ll get away from you.”

  He returned to her side and together they yanked back on the rope. Peering up at him, Jennie realized how close they stood, close enough to feel his warm breath against her cheek and smell the musky scent of his shaving cream. She tried to step away, but her hands were still holding the rope beneath his. Her heart began thudding loudly in her ears.

  “Thanks for the help,” he said with a grin.

  Jennie managed a nod. She’d never met someone like Caleb Johnson—someone kind and good-looking and irritating all at the same time. She hadn’t socialized with any young men in years—not since the family had stopped attending Sunday services. Occasionally on trips into town, she’d run across some boy she recognized from her time at church or school, but she’d been too embarrassed to strike up a conversation. She felt like an outsider, mostly because of her mother. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t found it hard to talk to Nathan that first time. Here was someone else on the cusp of society.

  Nathan. Thoughts of him brought her traitorous pulse to almost normal speed.

  Jerking her hands free, Jennie stumbled backward. “I think you have it,” she said, her words still coming out shaky. She forced a cleansing breath. “Keep practicing until you can do it with ease. Then come help me with the fence.” Without waiting for his response, she spun on her heel and hurried across the corral.

  She couldn’t like him—she wouldn’t. Her focus had to remain on doing what she must to save her home. No charming, would-be cowboy was worth losing her ranch.

  * * *

  Muscles strained, Caleb held tight to the squirming calf while Jennie applied the branding iron near the animal’s rump. The smell of burnt hair filled Caleb’s nostrils, and sweat ran down his back from working close to the fire. It didn’t help that the day was unusually warm for mid-April. His clothes were now damp, dirty and speckled with blood. He wished he’d worn his old boots for this messy work, instead of the newer ones he’d been given yesterday.

  It’s all for the freight business, he told himself. If he could survive the next few months, he’d never have to look at another cow rump again.

  The calf bellowed and twisted in protest as Jennie put down the iron and took up her knife to cut a small notch in the animal’s right ear.

  “All right,” she said, using the back of her hand to brush hair from her glistening forehead. “He’s done.”

  Caleb untied the rope from the calf’s feet and released it. He jumped out of the way as the animal scrambled through the brush in search of its mother. “How many have we done?”

  Jennie blew out a long breath and plopped down in the dirt. “Twenty calves in all. We had twice that many last spring. It took me and Will three days to round them all up and brand them. We’ve lost quite a few since then.”

  “What happened?”

  “A few died over the winter, but mostly it’s been rustlers.”

  “You mean the Indians that shot your pa?” She looked up sharply at his words, so he quickly added, “Will told me what happened.”

  She nodded. “They took some, yes. But I think one of the other landowners around here might be stealing from us, too.”

  Caleb’s eyebrows shot up. “Why would you think that?”

  “The Indians might want a few head of cattle here and there, but since they don’t have the setup to handle anything more, there’s no cause for them to take very many. But the other landholders...they could add my calves to their stock with no problems at all, and have the bonus of driving us out at the same time. There are plenty of folks who think I can’t handle this ranch on my own. I think someone’s trying to prove it.”

  Her voice was strong and steady, but Caleb could see how tired she looked, how the responsibility for running and protecting the ranch wore away at her. A surge of protectiveness filled him and he promised himself that, for as long as he worked on the ranch, he’d help lift some of that load. But that brought up another question. Would his wages take away from the family’s ability to survive? Could they support another mouth to feed? “Can you afford to pay me?”

  He realized she’d misunderstood the motivation behind his question when her cheeks flamed red.

  “That’s not what I—”

  “I said I would,” she interjected. “It’s going to take another set of hands to make this place what I want, what my father wanted.” She climbed to her feet and threw him a haughty look. “I can afford to pay you when our agreement is up. Just as I promised. And I’ll pay you for every month you stay after that.”

  “Then I’m not a mail-order cowboy anymore?” he teased, hoping to defuse her anger.

  She scowled at him, but only for another few seconds, before she laughed. “I’ll admit you’ve done well.”

  Will approached them carrying a calf, its ankles tied. “I think she’s the last one.”

  “Caleb and I’ll finish up,” she said. “Why don’t you go get some drinking water from the creek?”

  Nodding, Will transferred the calf into Caleb’s arms and headed off into the brush with one of the buckets.

  As Caleb wrestled to keep the calf still, Jennie crouched beside the fire and pulled out the white-hot branding iron. When they were finished, Caleb let the calf go and stood to stretch his sore back. “You’re good with that iron.”

  “I should be.” She dropped the branding iron into a nearby bucket. The hot metal sizzled against the water inside. “My mother hated this part of ranching, but I found it fascinating. I was always getting in the way during branding season until my father finally agreed to teach me what to do. I’ve been branding cattle since I was twelve.”

  “Where’s your mother now?”

  Jennie eyed him with suspicion. “Why do you want to know?”

  Caleb shrugged, unsure why the simple question had struck a wrong chord in her. “Just wondered, since she’s not around.”

  Frowning, Jennie picked up a cloth and wiped off her knife. “My mother passed away two years before my father did. She wasn’t living with us, though. She went to live with her sister when I was thirteen and Will
was six.”

  The casualness of her words didn’t disguise the pain Caleb heard behind them. He sat down on the ground and stretched out his legs, thinking of how to redeem himself. He hadn’t meant to dredge up hurtful memories. Sometimes they were best left buried in the past.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She stared off into the distance, the knife and cloth motionless in her hands. “You didn’t know.”

  “That must’ve been tough.”

  “The next few years were difficult.” She finished cleaning her knife and set it aside. “This is the point when you tell me it was all for the best. She couldn’t care for us. She was obviously ill in mind and body. We were better off without her.”

  “Why would I say that?”

  “Because that’s what people said after she left.” Jennie sat on the bare ground and wrapped her arms around her knees like a frightened child. Her vulnerability made Caleb want to put his arm along her stiff shoulders, but he didn’t. She was his boss, after all.

  “Maybe that’s why my father stopped going to church,” she said. “He couldn’t stand people’s feigned sympathy.” Her eyes, dark with anguish, met his. “I couldn’t stand it, either.”

  The urge to comfort her grew stronger, so he busied himself with opening the saddlebag that held their supper things. He unloaded the jerky, bread and dried fruit that Grandma Jones had packed for them. They’d stay tonight on the open range and return to the ranch tomorrow, once they’d doctored the few cows that needed it.

  “I felt like that before,” he finally said.

  “What?” She spun her head around and blinked at him as if she’d forgotten his presence.

  “There was a time I felt alone and angry, and couldn’t stand it when people tried to sympathize.”

  “Why?”

  Caleb took a long breath, steeling himself against the rush of memories. “It was right after my fiancée, Liza, died.”

  “Your fiancée?” Jennie brought her hand to her mouth. “What happened?”

  “She...um...came down this way on the stage to visit her aunt, about a month before our wedding.” He regarded a group of trees in the distance, embarrassed to see the pity he imagined he’d find on Jennie’s face. It had been more than a year since he’d last recounted the story, but the pain felt as fresh as ever as the words spilled from him. “There was...an accident with the stage, and she was killed instantly.”