Chapter 1
The steer clearly had a death wish.
Shea McAllister let the rope attached to his halter slide through her hands as she narrowed her eyes and watched the Hereford put on a show. She’d tried four times to get him into the chute, and each time he’d managed to evade it. This time, he shook his head and snorted at her, danced sideways away from the chute, bucked a few times, then turned and ambled across the corral.
Still holding onto the rope, she stalked after him. Becca Farrell, the ranch’s veterinarian, would be here soon to sew up the laceration on his flank, and Shea had promised to have the steer in the metal contraption designed to hold him still.
“You’re treading on thin ice here, buddy,” she called out to the animal. The steer’s ears twitched. “You want to make that trip to the stockyards a few months early, that’s fine with me.”
Reaching the animal’s head, she grabbed his halter. “If not, you might want to go into that chute over there.” Leaning into the animal’s massive side, she pushed until the steer turned around. Then she pulled on the rope again, moving him slowly toward the narrow metal contraption.
They’d only gone a few steps when her dog leapt into the corral, barking happily. The steer’s ears twitched again, then he stopped and turned to look at the dog.
Shea wiped the sweat and dust from her forehead with an impatient swipe of her arm. Buster was crouched down behind the steer, rear end up in the air, tail wagging. Clearly he thought this was a wonderful game.
Shaking her head, Shea felt herself grinning. “Buster, you are about the most worthless dog I’ve ever seen. Get over here.”
She snapped her fingers and the shaggy yellow dog scrambled to respond. Scratching his head, she told him, “Go find Maria. Find Maria, Buster.”
Buster tilted his head, then with a yip he raced out of the corral in the direction of the house. Still grinning, Shea turned back to the steer.
“Now it’s your turn, buddy. You want to go into that chute, or would you rather be on the next truck out of town?”
When the steer showed no interest in moving, Shea applied her shoulder to his side and shoved. He moved a couple of steps, and Shea shoved again. She had managed to edge him halfway to the chute when she heard a truck pull up to the corral and stop.
“See what you’ve done?” she muttered as she shoved at the animal again. “Here’s Becca and you’re not even in the chute. It would serve you right if I just shagged your sorry tail back out into the pasture.”
But the laceration needed to be sutured, so she braced herself and pushed at the steer again.
“Looks like you could use some help.”
The low, slightly raspy masculine voice wrapped around her, strumming across nerves she hadn’t even known she had. Despite the heat of the Utah spring sun, a shiver chased down her back.
Spinning around, she dropped the rope attached to the steer’s halter. “Who are you?” she asked the stranger leaning against the corral fence.
Instead of answering, he vaulted across the fence and grabbed the rope from the ground. Jamming his shoulder into the steer’s side, he swept off his hat and used it to smack the steer’s tail. At the same time he let out a yell.
The startled animal jumped forward, and the stranger merely aimed him at the chute. A minute later, the steer stood secured in the metal apparatus.
“That was slick,” Shea said, watching the man dust his hat off against his leg, then replace it on his head.
He shrugged, and his hazel eyes crinkled in a smile. A crease that would have been called a dimple in a prettier man flashed, then disappeared. “It was all in the timing. I surprised him.”
“You surprised me, too.” Shea let her gaze drift over him once more, then extended her hand. “Thanks for your help. I’m Shea McAllister.”
If she hadn’t been watching so closely, she would have missed the start of surprise in his eyes. It was gone in a moment, his face smoothly blank as he touched the brim of his hat with one hand and reached for hers with the other. “I’m Jesse Coulton.”
His hand was hard and calloused as it closed around hers. He gripped her fingers firmly, and for just a moment a sense of rightness swept over her, a feeling of belonging. But that was ridiculous. Slipping her hand out of his, she flexed her fingers and said, “What can I do for you, Mr. Coulton?”
Again, if she hadn’t been watching so closely, she would have missed the flicker in his eyes. An instant later he smiled ruefully. “I don’t suppose you’ll believe me when I tell you I had no idea who you were?”
She did believe him. The instant of startled shock in his eyes when she’d told him her name hadn’t been rehearsed. “Were you looking for me?”
“I was.” His gaze touched on the house, the barn and the outbuildings, then lingered on the mountains behind them. “I heard you could use some help.”
“You’re looking for a job?” He’d surprised her again.
He nodded. “The word in town is that you’re shorthanded. I need a job.” He smiled again, a slow grin that spread across his face and lingered in his eyes. “It sounded like a perfect match to me.”
Because her stomach fluttered when he grinned, Shea took a step backward. “We need another hand, but I have no intention of hiring the first person who drives through the gates,” she said coolly. “I appreciate your help with the steer, but I’ll need to see some references. And I’ll check them.”
The grin stayed on his face, but his eyes sharpened. “I wouldn’t expect anyone to hire me without checking my references. I have a list in my truck that I’ll give you.”
“I’ll take a look at it.” She didn’t like the way his smile made her insides churn, or the way his voice beckoned to her. “What experience have you had?”
His eyes flickered over the barn again, and when he looked back at her, his grin had faded and there was a hard edge to his gaze. “I grew up in a small town back east, working on farms. I’ve worked all over, but mostly in Wyoming and Montana for the last several years, running cattle on the range and taking care of whatever needed to be done. I do a good job.”
He sounded like one of the drifters who was drawn to ranch work, staying at one place only until he got an urge to move on. It was a common enough story in the west, and no one thought twice about men showing up at a ranch, looking for a job.
But there was something different about Jesse Coulton. Shea studied him, wondering what it was. There was a determination in his eyes that she didn’t see in the other drifters who wandered by, looking for work. His eyes glinted with intelligence, and a hardness that wasn’t due to years of drifting. There was a dangerous edge to the look in Jesse Coulton’s eyes.
She couldn’t hire him, she decided abruptly. She would never be comfortable, never feel safe with those knowing eyes of his watching her. There was too much at stake for her, for the ranch.
She had too much to hide.
“Why don’t you give me your list of references? I’ll check with them and get back to you.”
Instead of retrieving the papers from his truck, he stood and studied her. “You have no intention of hiring me, do you?” he said after a moment
Her hands tightened around the rope that had been attached to the steer’s halter, then she threw it to the ground. “I don’t hire anyone until I’ve thoroughly checked their references.” She smiled thinly. “That includes cowboys who try to hustle me into making a decision. Let me know where you’re staying, and I’ll get in touch with you.”
Instead of the anger she expected to see, his mouth curved up. His eyes crinkled and his cheek creased again, and her stomach quivered once more.
“I’ll bet there aren’t too many cowboys who try to hustle you more than once,” he said, tossing her a grin over his shoulder as he walked to his truck. “Personally, I like a woman who can stare me down.”
“How do you feel about a woman who can knock you on your butt?” she muttered as he rummaged in his truck. She thought she had Jesse Coulton figured out, and he’d surprised her. And intrigued her, although she hated to admit it.
But it would still be too dangerous to hire him.
She couldn’t take a chance with Jesse Coulton’s knowing eyes, she thought, glancing involuntarily toward the mountains and the small cabin tucked next to a lake up there. Especially right now.
She watched Jesse open the cab of his truck and reach inside. His muscles rippled beneath worn denim and chambray, and she remembered how easily he’d muscled the steer into the chute. His long, lean body would be hard and tough, she thought, honed by physical labor. When he shook her hand, his fingers and palms had been hard, too, calloused and rough. But remembering the way his eyes had softened when he smiled, she suspected that there were times when those rough hands could be very gentle.
Suddenly realizing what she was thinking, she felt her cheeks flood with color. Appalled at herself, she wanted to flee, but instead she straightened her spine and held her ground. She’d look at his references, then say a polite goodbye. And the only other contact she’d have with Jesse Coulton would be via the telephone.
“Here you go,” he said, handing her a brown manila envelope.
She told herself to wait until he was gone. It would be easier to dismiss Jesse if he wasn’t standing and watching her. But she opened the envelope anyway, suddenly intensely curious about what his former employers had to say about him.
A few minutes later she raised her head to study him. “Your former employers seem to think you walk on water.” She kept her voice neutral.
He shrugged. “I believe in giving an honest day’s work for what I get in my pay envelope.”
“Apparently so.” She slid the papers back into the envelope. “Will they say the same things when I call them?”
He shrugged again. “I have no reason not to think so.”
“Where are you staying in town, Mr. Coulton?”
“The name’s Jesse. And I’m staying at Mrs. Corboy’s boardinghouse.”
Shea smothered a grin. “Not for long, I’m betting.” Melba Corboy’s food had driven more than one boarder away. Her sister-in-law, Carly, had been the only person in recent memory who had stayed at Melba’s for more than a couple of days. “I’ll call you there as soon as I have a chance to contact these people.”
“Fine.” He watched her carefully, and a look she couldn’t interpret flickered over his face. “But in the meantime, you’d suggest I keep looking for a job, right?”
“That’s up to you, Mr. Coulton. I won’t make a decision before I talk to your references.” Shea hated the prim sound of her voice, but suddenly she wanted Jesse Coulton to go away. She didn’t like the way her body reacted when he was around, and she didn’t like the direction her thoughts took. She was in charge of the Red Rock Ranch, but she suspected that, even if he was working for her, she would never be in charge of Jesse Coulton.
He tipped his hat to the back of his head as he studied her. “From what I heard in town, I didn’t figure Shea McAllister for a coward. I thought you’d be a woman who trusted her own instincts to make a decision.”
Shea felt her temper rising and tried to grab hold of it with both hands. “I wouldn’t be much of a businesswoman if I trusted my instincts,” she shot back. “There’s a reason people ask for references. I’ve seen plenty of charming men smile as they slipped a knife between someone’s ribs.”
“I’m glad to know that you consider me charming.”
Was he purposely trying to antagonize her? “I don’t care if you’ve gone to charm school, Coulton. The only thing that matters on this ranch is if you can do the work, and that’s what I intend to find out. In the meantime, I suggest you stop pushing. I’ll let you know if you have a job when I’m good and ready.” She was about to turn and walk away when a familiar truck pulled into the yard.
Becca Farrell eased her way out of the truck, then walked slowly over to where she and Jesse stood. “Hi, Shea. Is that steer all ready for me?”
Shea took a deep breath and tried to block Jesse from her mind. She had work to do today. “He’s in the chute,” she said, studying the woman in front of her. “Are you sure you should be out here doing this, Becca?”
The veterinarian smiled at her and put one hand on her protruding abdomen. “Cut it out, Shea. You sound just like Grady and I hear enough of that at home. I’m perfectly capable of suturing up a laceration on a steer.”
“What can we do to help you?”
Jesse spoke up, and Becca glanced over at him. “Are you the man who was asking about jobs in town?”
Jesse nodded, and Becca turned back to Shea. “Thank goodness you’ve finally hired someone to help you, Shea. It’s about time. Dev must have put his foot down.”
“I haven’t hired him yet,” Shea muttered, feeling the jaws of a trap tensing to spring shut. “He stopped by to ask about work, and I haven’t had a chance to check his references.”
“Well, let’s give him a working audition,” Becca said. Turning to Jesse, she waved in the direction of her truck. “There’s a stool and a leather bag in the back of my truck. You can put them over next to the chute, then give me a hand.”
When Jesse disappeared in the direction of Becca’s truck, Shea said in a low voice, “Why’d you do that, Becca? I’m not going to hire him.”
“Why not?” She watched Jesse set the stool down near the laceration on the steer’s side, then open her bag and set up what she’d need. “He looks like he knows what he’s doing. And he’s not hard on the eyes, either.”
“I have no intention of hiring someone just because he’s easy to look at,” Shea snapped. “In fact, that alone would make me not want to hire him. Kyle Diggett acted like he knew what he was doing, too.”
Becca turned to look at her. “Not everyone who’s looking for a job is going to be another Kyle, Shea. Do you really think this guy is like that?”
“No.” Shea forced herself to be honest. “His references all raved about him. I don’t think he’d steal from me. But there’s something about him, about his eyes. He looks hard.”
Becca grinned. “The hard ones are the most fun to tame. Trust me on that.”
Shea’s mouth twitched, but she shook her head. “I’m not interested in taming anyone, especially a man who’s working for me.” She turned away from Becca’s suddenly sympathetic eyes. “I just don’t think he’d work out for us, that’s all.”
“Why don’t you give him a chance?” Becca said quietly. “He could be just what you need. You made a mistake with Kyle, but that doesn’t mean you’d do the same with this guy. We don’t get too many men wandering through Cameron, looking for work. And Joe, Dusty and Levi aren’t getting any younger. They could use some help.”
“I know that.” Her voice was low as she watched Levi walk slowly out of the barn in the distance. “They’ve worked on the Red Rock since I was a baby. I know they need a younger man in here to help them, but they would never admit it. The three of them are more stubborn than a matched set of Missouri mules.”
“Then present them with a done deal.” Becca spoke briskly as she walked toward the steer and the waiting Jesse. “Hire this guy, at least on a temporary basis, and make everyone’s life a little easier.” She slanted Shea a look. “Including your own.”
“My life is exactly how I want it.”
“Sure, Shea, everyone loves working twenty-hour days and having no social life.” She rolled her eyes. “Tell me another one, why don’t you?”
Shea laughed. “I thought Grady would have fixed that smart mouth of yours by now.”
Becca grinned. “Grady is very fond of my smart mouth.”
“I noticed,” she answered, her voice dry.
Shea hung back and watched as Jesse helped Becca settle herself on the stool, then handed her what she needed to suture up the steer. He seemed to anticipate every move the veterinarian made, handing her the proper instruments and efficiently cleaning everything up after she had finished suturing the laceration. He listened as she gave him instructions for the steer’s care, then carried the stool and bag of instruments back to her car.
“He’s a gem, Shea,” Becca said when he was out of earshot. “Grab him. You’d be a fool to let him get away.”
“I can’t, Becca.” Shea kept her voice low as she watched for Jesse to emerge from behind the truck. “I don’t think he’d take well to having a woman as his boss.”
It was a lame excuse, but it was the only one she could think of quickly. Everything that Becca said was true. Jesse Coulton appeared to be the perfect employee.
Which was exactly why she couldn’t hire him.
It would be too dangerous to have someone as smart and perceptive as Jesse around the Red Rock Ranch. But she couldn’t tell Becca that, either.
Becca shook her head. “You’re nuts, Shea,” she said as she walked to her truck. “I’ll be back in a few days to check on that steer, although he should be fine. Keep him close by, just in case.”
“Thanks, Becca. I will.”
Shea watched as Becca drove away, then turned reluctantly to face Jesse again. “Thanks for helping Becca out. She said you did a good job.”
He nodded once. “I like working with animals,” he said, and Shea saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You generally know what to expect with a steer or a horse.” He looked down as Buster raced up next to him, then squatted in the dust in front of him, his rear end wriggling. Jesse smiled, and his eyes gentled as he reached down to pet the dog. “You generally know what to expect from a dog, too.”
No, Shea thought as she watched him with Buster, Jesse didn’t strike her as a thief. She wasn’t afraid that Jesse would steal from her or from Joe, Dusty and Levi the way Kyle Diggett had done. But if she hired him, she’d have a whole lot more to worry about than money missing from her house.
If she hired Jesse, she would put her carefully constructed arrangement in jeopardy. She’d worry constantly about the safety of the refugees hiding in the cabin up by the lake. And the one thing she wouldn’t do was endanger those children.
***
Jesse gave the yellow dog one final pat, then straightened up. Shea’s eyes narrowed as she watched him, speculation darkening their bright blue depths. What was she thinking? he wondered.
He wasn’t sure, and he reluctantly conceded the first round to her. He would win in the end, he was sure of that, but she had surprised him. He had expected to easily goad her into hiring him. Word at May’s, the bar that stood at the edge of Cameron, was that Shea McAllister had a hair-trigger temper and could be pushed into acting rashly if you handled her the right way.
But all the handling so far had been on her part, he ruefully acknowledged. And not only had he been unable to secure a job on the Red Rock Ranch, but he’d managed to alienate her at the same time.
It was time for different tactics. “Thanks for your time, ma’am,” he said, touching the brim of his hat. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
Her eyes narrowed even more. “It’s too late to try the polite, subservient routine with me, Coulton. You’re good, but I’ve seen too many of your type. Slick cowboys are a dime a dozen in Utah. So stuff it back in your hat You’re not doing your cause any favors.”
Damn, but he was going to enjoy taking her down. It wasn’t often that he found an adversary who could match wits with him. “Sorry, Ms. McAllister. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
He saw her lips twitch and knew she wanted to hide the smile. “Really? That’s funny, I had just the opposite impression.”
“Now why would I want to offend you when I want you to hire me?”
“That’s just what I was wondering.” She swiped her arm over her forehead and left behind a smear of red dust. “What’s going on, Coulton?”
He was getting sloppy, he thought with disgust. Or maybe he was getting arrogant, which was worse. He’d never had this kind of problem before No matter what the situation, he always fit right in. He’d never had any trouble getting hired. Shea McAllister was the first suspect who had challenged him.
She was also the first suspect who’d stirred such an immediate, intense physical reaction.
He’d noticed her the moment he’d pulled up in the yard. She was ridiculously slender to be wrestling with a steer that size. But when he’d looked closer, he’d noticed the curves that were only partially hidden by denim and flannel. And although her face wouldn’t be considered classically beautiful, the animation and passion that filled her eyes made it certain he wouldn’t soon forget her.
He shrugged, trying to ignore his body’s reaction to her. “I’m desperate, I guess. I need a job. I’m down to my last fifty bucks. And you were the only place around that sounded promising.” It didn’t bother him to beg. He’d try anything that worked. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to set up his background and get hired by Shea McAllister.
She didn’t change her posture, but deep in her eyes he saw a slight softening. “If I don’t hire you, there are other places around Cameron you can try. I’ll give you the names,”
It would be more difficult, but if he couldn’t wrest a job from Shea, he’d settle for another ranch close by. And he would still take her down.
“I appreciate that.”
She shrugged and turned away. “No problem. I’d expect my neighbors to do the same.”
Before he could answer, an older cowboy came walking slowly out of the barn. When he saw them, he changed directions and headed toward them.
“Hey, Shea.” The old cowboy stopped in front of her and pushed his hat to the back of his head. “I have a stall ready for that steer. Thought you might want to keep him close by for a few days.” He nodded at the steer, who still stood in the chute in the corral.
“Thanks, Dusty. I’ll help you move him in a minute.” Her eyes softened as she spoke to the old man, and she touched his shoulder. “Why don’t you get some lunch in the meantime? Maria should have it just about ready.”
Dusty hesitated, then nodded. “Maybe I will. Don’t you move that steer until I help you, hear?”
“I won’t,” she assured the old man.
She waited until the cowboy had walked toward the house, then turned back to Jesse. “Thanks again, Coulton. I’ve got a lot of work to do. I’ll be in touch.”
Her eyes had lost their hard edge, and when she glanced at the old cowboy, he saw real affection. He’d call it love, if he believed in the emotion. And suddenly he realized why she’d been wrestling with the steer herself when he arrived. She was trying to take some of the burden from the old men she had working for her.
“Do you have anyone working for you besides Dusty and the other old cowboy I saw when I got here?”
The softness disappeared from her eyes and her chin lifted. “I have three hands to help me.”
“Let me guess. The third one is just as old as the other two.”
Her chin lifted even higher. “I prefer to think of it as experience. Not age.”
Jesse shook his head, watching Dusty as he reached the house. He gripped the rail tightly as he walked up the stairs. There was no way he could help Shea move that steer. “You’re doing most of the work around here yourself.” He hoped his voice didn’t reflect his shock.
“Joe, Dusty and Levi do a lot.” Her voice was cool as she faced him. “My mother is here in the summer, and my brother is available to help whenever I need him. Believe me, Coulton, I’m not desperate enough to hire just anyone.”
“This isn’t about a job,” he said, more roughly than he’d intended. “My God, how do you manage?”
“I manage just fine. I’ve never been afraid of hard work. I love this ranch, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it running.” Her voice quivered with passion.
Including taking money for smuggling illegal immigrants into the country, men who were wanted criminals in their own country? he thought grimly, and he felt his face harden. He’d needed the reminder. For a moment there, he’d begun to admire Shea McAllister.
Of course she’d have old men working for her. They were probably so grateful to have a job that they looked the other way at her illegal activities. And if she had to work hard herself, she was being well paid for it. With all the money she was collecting for the smuggled criminals, she had to be socking away a small fortune. In a few years she could disappear and never have to work again.
Another old man came walking across the yard, giving Shea a casual wave, and then he, too, disappeared into the house. Shea turned back to Jesse and held out her hand. He only hesitated for a moment before he took it.
He didn’t want to feel that connection again, that shock of awareness that had jolted him the first time he’d shaken her hand. He’d been too conscious of Shea McAllister from the moment he’d gotten out of his truck and seen her wrestling with the steer. And talking to her, mentally jousting with her, had only made it worse.
He should see only a felon standing in front of him, a person who was breaking the law. Instead, he saw an attractive woman, one who was clearly unaware of her own beauty. The light that filled her eyes when she spoke animated a striking face. And the passion that made her body quiver only emphasized her slender, graceful strength.
But he shook her hand again, unable to find a reason not to. And the jolt of awareness was worse, this time. It skittered over the edge into attraction.
“Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Coulton,” she said firmly. “I’ll let you know about the job in a day or two.”
He stood and watched as she hurried toward the house, unable to look away from the sway of her hips under the denim. It didn’t matter, he told himself.
He didn’t care if she was Miss America. Shea McAllister was breaking the law, and she would pay. He’d come to Cameron to stop her, and by God, he was going to do just that.
No matter how good she looked in a pair of jeans.
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