Always A Cowboy. Linda Miller Lael
and honor the environment, trees included, and if she was implying otherwise, he meant to set her straight. Nobody loved the natural world more than he did and, furthermore, he had a right to ask questions. The Carsons had held the deed to this ranch since homestead days, and in case she hadn’t noticed, he wasn’t running a public campground. Nor was this a state or national park.
He leaned forward in the saddle. “Do the words no trespassing mean anything to you?” he asked mildly.
Although he didn’t want it to show, he was still enjoying this encounter, and way more than he should have at that.
She merely glowered up at him, arms folded now, chin set at an obstinate angle.
Suddenly, Drake was tired to the bone. “All right. Let’s see if we can clarify matters. That tree—” he gestured to the one she’d taken refuge behind earlier and spoke very slowly so she could follow “—is on my ranch.” He paused. “I’m Drake Carson. And you are?”
The look of surprise on her face was gratifying. “You’re Drake Carson?”
“I was when I woke up this morning,” he drawled. “I don’t imagine that’s changed since then.” He let a moment pass. “Now, how about answering my original question? What are you doing here?”
She seemed to wilt, and Drake supposed that was a victory, however small, but he wasn’t inclined to celebrate. Her attitude got on his last nerve, but there was something delicate about her. A kind of fragility that made him want to protect her. “I’m studying the horses.”
The brim of Drake’s hat spilled water down his front as he nodded. “Well, yeah, I kind of figured that. It’s really not the point, though, is it? Like I said before, and more than once, this is private property. And if you’d asked permission to be here, I’d know it.”
She blushed, but no explanation was forthcoming. Her mouth opened, then closed again, and her eyes went wide. “You’re him.”
“And you would be...?”
The next moment, she was blustering again. Ignoring his question, too. “Tall man on a tall horse,” she remarked, her tone scathing. “Very intimidating.”
A few seconds earlier, he’d been in charge here. Now he felt defensive, which was ridiculous on all counts.
He drew a deep breath, released it slowly and spoke with quiet authority. He hoped. “Believe me, I’m not trying to intimidate you,” he said. “My point—once again—is that you don’t have the right to be here, much less yell at me.”
“Yes, I do.” Her tone was testy. “Well, the being here part, anyway. And I don’t think I was yelling.”
Of all the freaking gall. Drake glowered at the young woman, who was standing next to his horse by then, unafraid, giving as good as she got.
“Say what?” he asked.
“I do have the right to be on this ranch,” she insisted. “I asked your mother’s permission to come out and study the wild horses, and she said yes, fine, no problem at all. She was very supportive, as it happens.”
Well, shit.
Why hadn’t she said that in the first place?
Moreover, why hadn’t his mother bothered to mention any of this to him?
For some reason, even in light of this development, he couldn’t back off, or not completely, anyway. Maybe it was his stubborn pride. “Okay,” he said evenly. “Why do you want to study wild horses? Considering that they’re...wild and everything.”
She was undaunted. No real surprise there, although it was frustrating as hell. “I’m getting my PhD, and my dissertation is about the way wildlife, particularly horses, co-exist with the animals on working ranches.” She added, “And how ranchers deal with them. Ranchers like you.”
Ranchers like him. Right.
“Let’s get something straight, here and now,” he said, feeling cornered for some reason, and wondering why he liked it. “My mother might have given you the go-ahead to bedevil all the horses you can rustle up on this spread, but that’s as far as it goes. You aren’t going to study me.”
“Are you saying you don’t obey your mother?” she asked sweetly.
“That’s it,” he answered, without a trace of goodwill. By then, Drake’s mood was back on a downhill slide. What was he doing out here in the damn rain, bantering with some self-proclaimed intellectual? He wasn’t just cold, tired and wet, he was hungry, since all he’d had before leaving the house this morning was a slice of toast and a cup of coffee. He’d been in a hurry to get started, and now his blood sugar had dropped to the soles of his boots, and the effect on his disposition was not pretty.
The saddle leather creaked as he bent toward her. “Listen, Ms. Whoever-you-are, I don’t give a rat’s ass about your thesis, or your theories about ranchers and wild horses, either. Do whatever it is you do, stay out of my way and try not to get yourself killed while you’re at it.”
She didn’t bat an eye. “Hale,” she announced brightly, as though he hadn’t spoken. “My name is Lucinda Hale, but everybody calls me Luce.”
He inhaled a long, deep breath. If he’d ever had that much trouble learning a woman’s name before, he didn’t recall the occasion. “Ms. Hale, then,” he began, tugging at the brim of his hat in a gesture that was more automatic than cordial. “I’ll leave you to it. While I’m sure your work is absolutely fascinating, not to mention vital to the future of the planet, I have plenty of my own to do. In short, while I’ve enjoyed shadowboxing with you, I’m fresh out of leisure time.”
He might’ve been talking to the barn wall. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said cheerfully. “I wouldn’t dream of interfering. I’ll be an observer, that’s all. Watching, figuring out how things work, making a few notes. You won’t even know I’m around.”
Drake bit back a terse reply and reined his horse away, although he didn’t use his heels. The dogs, still fascinated by the whole scenario, sat tight. “You’re right, Ms. Hale. I won’t know you’re around, because you won’t be. Not around me, that is.”
“You really are a very difficult man,” she observed almost sadly. “Surely you can see the value of my project. Interactions between wild animals, domesticated ones and human beings?”
* * *
LUCE WAS COLD, wet, a little amused and very intrigued.
Drake Carson was gawking at her as though she’d just popped in from a neighboring dimension, wearing a tutu and waving a wand. His two beautiful dogs, waiting obediently for some word or gesture from their master, seemed equally curious.
The consternation on the man’s face was absolutely priceless.
And a very handsome face it was, at least what she could see of it, shadowed by the brim of his hat the way it was. If he resembled his younger brother, Mace, whom she’d met earlier that day, he was one very impressive man.
She decided to push him a bit, just to see what happened. “You run this ranch, don’t you?”
“I do my best.”
She liked his voice, which was a deep, slow drawl now, not mocking like before. “Then you’re the one I want.”
Open mouth, she thought, insert foot.
“For my project, I mean,” she added hastily.
His strong jawline tightened visibly. “I don’t have time to babysit you,” he said. “This is a working ranch, not a resort.”
“As I’ve said repeatedly, Mr. Carson, you won’t have to do any such thing. I can take care of myself, and I promise you, I won’t be underfoot.”
He seemed unconvinced. And still irritated in the extreme.
But