Grace be a Lady (Love & War in Johnson County Book 1) by Heather Blanton Page B

the snake kept her in check. This
hole was getting fixed, in case she did have to sleep out here eventually.
    The
finished job wasn’t going to be pretty. Most of her nails were bent. A few
times, the angle was wrong and she missed the wood completely, requiring a
second nail right beside the first. She plugged away, though, not seeing much
of a choice. With each log delivery, and without comment or disparaging looks,
Thad went behind Grace and deftly hammered the nails, straight and crooked
alike, all the way into the wood. Then he’d hand her back the tool and move on,
reminding Grace of a teacher checking on a student’s work. Bull would have hit
her with the hammer for such clumsy mistakes.
    By
late afternoon, the wall was patched, the roof was repaired, and the cowboys
were packing up their tools. Raney had swept, wiped, dusted, and sweated over
the interior, bringing it around to something that was almost inviting.
    Almost.
    Grace
wandered outside and tossed her hammer into a carpentry box. Stuffing her sore
thumb into her mouth, she took a moment to survey Raney’s ranch. The woman
lived in a simple white farmhouse with a lovely, inviting porch on two sides. A
tall cedar with a bench built around it shaded her front yard. A little red
chicken coop and a huge barn, also painted red, sat a stone’s throw from the
house. A corral and round pen sat between them and the bunkhouse.
    As
cowboys tossed their tool boxes into the back of a wagon and retrieved their
horses from the corral, Thad walked up and laid a hand on Grace’s shoulder. Too
used to Bull grabbing and hitting, she jerked out of his grip and spun on him,
ready to block a hail of blows.
    “Whoa,
sorry!” Thad raised his hands in peace. Grace swallowed the fear she knew had
blossomed on her face.
    “I’m
sorry. I don’t like being grabbed.”
    “I
gathered.” Perhaps to get past the awkward moment, he changed the subject,
motioning toward the bunkhouse. “Not bad toenailing, Buttercup, and what you
lack in skill, you sure make up for in tenacity.”
    Arms
as heavy as lead, joints aching, Grace was still energetic enough to demand
some respect. She was as tired as any man here. “Do you have to keep calling me
that? My name is Gr –eg.” Her voice rose on the last syllable. She’d nearly
said the wrong name again.
    He
laughed and shoved her hat down over her eyes as he walked away. “Sure, Gr-eg,”
he mocked again, as if the joke was never going to get old. “We’re going for a
swim in a hot spring on the way back to the ranch. Come with us. It ain’t far.”
    Panic
made Grace’s heart trip over itself. “No, I can’t!” She’d sounded a little too
alarmed, and kicked herself.
    Thad
half-turned to her, one hand resting on his gun. “Can’t swim, huh?” He shoved
his white hat further back on his head, giving him a relaxed, friendly air. “I
can teach ya. It’s a skill you should have, in case you have to cross swollen
–”
    “My
parents drowned. I hate the water.” For once, not a lie, exactly. Grace had
gone swimming some over the years, especially before she left her grandparents’
farm, but there was always uneasiness in her spirit. A swim sounded so
inviting, filthy as she was, but there was simply no way that could happen now.
    Thad
drummed his fingers on his thigh and nodded. “Sorry for your loss.” He stood
uncertainly for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but finished with, “If
you decide to go, the pools are only three or four feet deep. Anyway, I’ll see
ya tomorrow.”
    “You
will? Why?”
    He
tossed a wave toward Raney’s house. “Raney wants us to move her herd tomorrow.”
He rested his hand on his hip and squinted at her. “You can ride, can’t you?
Ever moved any cattle?”
    “Yes
and no.”
    He
frowned. “Yes, you can ride and no, you’ve never moved cattle?”
    Grace
nodded.
    “Well,
then, tomorrow, Buttercup, you get your first lesson in cowboyin’.”
    She
searched for a clever retort,