stables—they’ll see to her. Grab some coffee and stow your bags in the bunkhouse then grab a rag bag and a fresh mount.” He shouted too loud for the wind to snatch his words. “Ride the northern line. Flag any weak wire, but don’t work it or you’ll slice yourself to ribbons in this weather. Won’t be too long until you hear the supper bell anyway.”
Jess nodded her agreement, not trusting the wind to disguise her voice and not willing to challenge a man who wore authority so easily. Bossy and brusque, he spoke knowledgeably and issued orders like a foreman. But beneath the orders ran a kind streak Jess found comforting and curious—he’d noticed Morning Glory’s state and directed her to the stables. That alone would’ve endeared the man to her, but he’d also told a cold grub-line rider to take the time for a hot cup of coffee before riding the fences and specified a job that wouldn’t be made dangerous by the rain.
Intrigued, she tilted her head and tried to make out his features beneath the brim of his dripping hat. Thick brows slammed together over a strong nose whose bump tattled of a break. He squinted, so she couldn’t make out the color or shape of his eyes. Jess just got the impression of a fierce intelligence that would’ve seen through her garb in an instant if it weren’t for the storm.
“Name?” he barked, a stubborn jut to his jaw as he peered at her through the elements.
“J.” Deepening her voice for the single syllable, Jess figured she rode a fine line between truth and lies. Before he sent her away, Papa used to call her his “little J Bird” because she peppered him with questions from sunup to sundown. Her throat tightened at the remembrance, but Jess figured it would help her croak like a man if the cowboy in front of her asked anything else.
He didn’t. Just gave a short nod and a pull on the reins before riding south, toward the windmills. As a good foreman should, he probably went to check that the raging wind didn’t damage the water pumps. Nevertheless, Jess caught herself watching him ride away and hoping he planned a cursory look rather than an in-depth inspection. She didn’t know his name, but she liked his style of leadership. The Bar None needed workers she and Ed could trust, and it’d be a shame to lose this one because he went scrambling up the side of a windmill in this weather.
Once he disappeared from view, Jess turned in Morning Glory at the stables. Avoiding conversation with the stable master, she kept her head down and grabbed her saddlebags. It cost her a twinge to leave Morning Glory behind when she’d been such a stalwart and constant companion, but she squared her shoulders and moved away from the warmth of the stables.
I made it
. She kept her eyes on the house as she headed for the door.
Now we’ll see what they make of me
.
CHAPTER 5
D esta didn’t know what to make of the young man dripping all over the front porch. Cowhands and pass-through workers knew better than to come to the ranch house without explicit instruction from Ed or Tucker. Even then, they usually made their way around back to the kitchen out of respect.
So when she heard the knock at the front door without Tucker’s accompanying greeting, she didn’t know what to expect. Folks from town stopped coming by with their condolences weeks ago, and other than that Ed didn’t invite many people over or encourage random visitors. Yet here stood a cowpoke—a very young cowpoke, judging by his small size and smooth cheeks—gawking at her and peering around her into the entryway without so much as a word of explanation.
“Did Tucker send you?” Desta knew better, but figured it would prompt a response.
The figure on the porch jerked back, muttering
“Tucker?”
as though recognizing the name and finding it surprising. But he recovered quickly, giving a short shake before answering in a respectful murmur. “No, ma’am. I’m looking for Ed—Edward Culpepper. Can
Jess nodded her agreement, not trusting the wind to disguise her voice and not willing to challenge a man who wore authority so easily. Bossy and brusque, he spoke knowledgeably and issued orders like a foreman. But beneath the orders ran a kind streak Jess found comforting and curious—he’d noticed Morning Glory’s state and directed her to the stables. That alone would’ve endeared the man to her, but he’d also told a cold grub-line rider to take the time for a hot cup of coffee before riding the fences and specified a job that wouldn’t be made dangerous by the rain.
Intrigued, she tilted her head and tried to make out his features beneath the brim of his dripping hat. Thick brows slammed together over a strong nose whose bump tattled of a break. He squinted, so she couldn’t make out the color or shape of his eyes. Jess just got the impression of a fierce intelligence that would’ve seen through her garb in an instant if it weren’t for the storm.
“Name?” he barked, a stubborn jut to his jaw as he peered at her through the elements.
“J.” Deepening her voice for the single syllable, Jess figured she rode a fine line between truth and lies. Before he sent her away, Papa used to call her his “little J Bird” because she peppered him with questions from sunup to sundown. Her throat tightened at the remembrance, but Jess figured it would help her croak like a man if the cowboy in front of her asked anything else.
He didn’t. Just gave a short nod and a pull on the reins before riding south, toward the windmills. As a good foreman should, he probably went to check that the raging wind didn’t damage the water pumps. Nevertheless, Jess caught herself watching him ride away and hoping he planned a cursory look rather than an in-depth inspection. She didn’t know his name, but she liked his style of leadership. The Bar None needed workers she and Ed could trust, and it’d be a shame to lose this one because he went scrambling up the side of a windmill in this weather.
Once he disappeared from view, Jess turned in Morning Glory at the stables. Avoiding conversation with the stable master, she kept her head down and grabbed her saddlebags. It cost her a twinge to leave Morning Glory behind when she’d been such a stalwart and constant companion, but she squared her shoulders and moved away from the warmth of the stables.
I made it
. She kept her eyes on the house as she headed for the door.
Now we’ll see what they make of me
.
CHAPTER 5
D esta didn’t know what to make of the young man dripping all over the front porch. Cowhands and pass-through workers knew better than to come to the ranch house without explicit instruction from Ed or Tucker. Even then, they usually made their way around back to the kitchen out of respect.
So when she heard the knock at the front door without Tucker’s accompanying greeting, she didn’t know what to expect. Folks from town stopped coming by with their condolences weeks ago, and other than that Ed didn’t invite many people over or encourage random visitors. Yet here stood a cowpoke—a very young cowpoke, judging by his small size and smooth cheeks—gawking at her and peering around her into the entryway without so much as a word of explanation.
“Did Tucker send you?” Desta knew better, but figured it would prompt a response.
The figure on the porch jerked back, muttering
“Tucker?”
as though recognizing the name and finding it surprising. But he recovered quickly, giving a short shake before answering in a respectful murmur. “No, ma’am. I’m looking for Ed—Edward Culpepper. Can
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