Tough To Tame. Jackie Merritt
that horse while she was here, and Banyon might as well know from the get-go how she felt about it. Besides, she didn’t particularly like the tone of voice he was using with her, as though no one but him even had a right to an opinion about that stallion.
“Maybe I should also set the record straight,” she said coolly. “I didn’t come here with any intentions of questioning your authority on any aspect of the operation of this ranch. You and Dad apparently have a mutually acceptable working agreement, which I fully intended to honor. But I will not sit by calmly and permit you or anyone else to shoot a horse that is only doing what his nature demands.”
They had reached the stairs to the front porch. Jake stopped in his tracks and turned to her with his eyes narrowed, thinking, so she is the kind of woman to throw her weight around! And, as galling as it was, she had a right. Or she would have someday, when she inherited the ranch.
In the meantime, he took his orders from her dad—on the rare occasion when Stuart Paxton issued an order—and Carly might as well understand right now that he would not put up with interference from her or anyone other than Stuart about how he ran the ranch.
“Exactly what would you do about it if we did shoot that stallion?” Jake asked in a chilling, challenging voice.
Carly hadn’t expected to be so openly challenged, and her heart sank a little. But then she lifted her chin. A confrontation with Banyon within fifteen minutes of her arrival was startling, but if she didn’t stand her ground now she would look spineless and without convictions and standards strong enough to fight for. It was the way she’d behaved during her marriage, and she had vowed to never again permit a man to ride roughshod over feelings she had every right to possess.
But her next thought—Jake Banyon was nothing like her ex. Banyon, in fact, might not be like anyone she’d ever known—made her wonder if open warfare with him was wise.
Still, should she cower and withdraw from a serious issue just because Banyon had an overwhelming personality?
She stood her ground and said in a voice every bit as challenging as Jake’s, “I’m sure there are laws against killing animals you don’t own.”
“There are also laws permitting ranchers to protect the animals they do own from predators,” Jake snapped. The anger in his system alarmed him, and he had to ask himself what was causing it, the topic under debate or Carly’s pretty face and blatant sexuality. He didn’t deserve this, dammit, he didn’t. He’d sown his wild oats years ago and he didn’t need any reminders that he’d been living without sex for a long time. Living contentedly, for a fact. Now, this very minute, his body was stirring in ways he’d practically forgotten and sure hadn’t missed.
Jake told himself to calm down, to tell Carly that he never had planned to kill that stallion, which would stop this ridiculous controversy here and now. But when he opened his mouth to enlighten her, he heard himself saying instead, speaking harshly, “I’ve got work to do. Let’s go inside and get this over with.”
Carly almost gasped out loud. Banyon’s rudeness was insulting and infuriating, and she took a deep breath to thwart the torrent of angry words she would have loved to lay on him. But while she managed to control the worst of her ire, she couldn’t stop herself from giving him a venomous look, or from saying, “Believe me, I do not need your assistance to walk into this house. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but I’m not the complete moron you seem to think I am.” Brushing past him, she climbed the stairs and crossed the porch to the front door.
Jake stared after her. She certainly had a temper, he thought, while he tried to control his own. It was when he was striding away from the house that regret hit him hard and suddenly. That had been a stupid way to start Carly’s visit, especially when he had vowed to get along with her. What he probably should do was to return to the house, locate Carly and apologize.
But maybe she was the one who should do the apologizing, he decided in the next heartbeat, stubbornly continuing his walk to the barns while hoping those two men had captured that stallion. Dammit, he’d known a woman on the place would disrupt its peace—his peace—and he’d sure been right about that.
In this instance, though, being right didn’t make him feel better, and he wore a sour expression all the way to the barns.
Inside the house Carly came very close to completely forgetting that Jake Banyon even existed. It was the house from her childhood memories, but it was so sadly run-down that it broke her heart. Going from room to room on the first floor, she nostalgically touched things—the rocking chair near the living room fireplace that her grandfather had favored, and the old upright piano against a wall on which her grandmother had played merry tunes.
Carly’s troubled gaze swept the old wallpaper and worn furnishings. How could her father have let the house go to pot like this? Didn’t it mean anything to him?
But did she have a right to criticize anything her dad did or didn’t do with any part of the ranch, after what she’d done? Still, she’d only been a teenager when she’d decided not to return to Wyoming; why on earth had her dad let her get away with such bratty behavior?
Carly sighed. She knew why Stuart had let her get away with anything and everything while growing up. It was because her mother had died when she’d been too young to remember, and her father had tried to make it up to her.
The old house tugged at Carly’s heartstrings as she walked through the first floor rooms and realized that the place wasn’t even clean. There were huge dust motes in corners and under furniture, and from the musty odor she was noticing she would bet anything that the windows hadn’t been opened for fresh air in ages.
“Obviously Banyon could live in a pigsty and not be bothered by it,” she muttered as she entered the big old-fashioned kitchen. Positive that the refrigerator would contain moldy food, if any, she pulled open the door, then stood there and blinked at the laden shelves. And it was fresh food she was seeing, too, fresh milk, meat and vegetables.
“Odd,” she mumbled, staring at the array. Surely Banyon hadn’t gone out of his way to provide this food for her, had he? Of course, her dad might have asked him to stock the kitchen, just in case she would rather eat alone than with the men. Yes, that was something Stuart would think of doing. She certainly couldn’t imagine Banyon doing it without a nudge.
After checking the refrigerator for bottled water and finding none, Carly shut the door and went to locate a glass for a drink of tap water, which she doubted was drinkable, but what choice did she have?
The sink water was cold and delicious, and Carly stood at a window and had her drink. Something began niggling her; more than likely she had let her dad down by arguing with Banyon almost from the moment they’d set eyes on each other.
But how could she not have spoken her mind about that stallion? Shooting him would be a terrible crime, and she still felt that she would stop at nothing to see that it didn’t happen.
She would like to discuss this with her father and find out for herself how he felt about it, but wouldn’t that be a lot like tattling? Frowning, Carly decided that whatever problems she might have with Jake or his methods of operating the ranch during her stay, she should not cause a breach between Banyon and her father. Their relationship had worked very well for at least four years, and she’d been on the ranch no more than a half hour and already she could stir up trouble with a few words to her dad. She couldn’t let that happen. It would be unjustifiably selfish of her to let that happen, especially in light of the promises she’d made herself during the past year to not cause her father any more headaches.
Sighing heavily, Carly headed for the staircase to the second floor. She might as well pick a bedroom for herself. Someone would probably be bringing in her luggage at any moment.
Halfway up the stairs she went back down and found a telephone. Dialing her father’s private number, she left a message on his voice mail: “Hi, Dad, it’s me. I’m at the ranch and everything is fine. Hope your business trip to London is going well, though you probably only just got there. Anyway, call if and when you want, though don’t