The Rancher Takes a Cook by Misty M. Beller Page B

for
flavor. It came out in a rhythmic melody, like the sound the river
made as it flowed over rocks a little further downstream.
    He spoke before his mind realized what his
mouth was doing. “I used to swim here when I was a boy. Ma would
bring lunch and we’d have a picnic, just the two of us.” So many
times Jacob had gone back to those memories. The familiar ache
tugged at his chest.
    “It sounds like you had a wonderful mama.”
Miss Stewart’s voice broke into his reflections. He glanced at her
earnest expression, but there wasn’t sympathy there, only
understanding. She’d lost her mother, too. Could she help bear his
burden? Jacob turned away from her intense gaze. Time to get this
conversation back in a less emotional direction.
    “So I hear your brother has the makings of a
pretty good cowhand.”
    Her face brightened at his words. “Do you
think so? Monty says he’s learning faster than most, but he’s just
a boy still.”
    Jacob leveled her with a strong look. “He’s
fifteen years old. And in Texas, that’s old enough to be a man and
then some. The boys say he’s doin’ a fine job learnin’ to rope, and
he seems to have a way with the ornery cattle. His demeanor is
calming so animals aren’t afraid of him.” Much like you, Jacob added to himself. “You should be real proud of him.”
    Anna’s expression turned soft as he spoke
and pride shone in her eyes. “He is good with animals, isn’t he?
Just like Papa was.” The last part was spoken so softly he almost
missed it.
    “Your Pa is…gone?” He regretted the words as
soon as they left his mouth. He didn’t want to know anything about
this woman. Not at all.
    “He died fighting Sherman’s army after they
burned our home in Columbia.” A touch of bitterness tinged her
voice, and he could tell the wound was still raw. No wonder,
though. After losing both parents and her home, she was an
orphan.
    He mumbled, “I’m sorry.” Jacob had never
been good with words, and his mind didn’t seem to be ready to
change that fact now. But Anna seemed to understand what he meant
to say as she gazed at him with those liquid, amber-brown eyes.
    Then, her demeanor changed as she squared
her shoulders and raised her chin. “I’m glad Edward’s doing well.
He’s always been a quick learner, and he’ll work hard for you.”
Gathering her reins, Anna sighed. “I suppose it’s time for me to
head back. Today’s laundry day.” She gave him a wry grin.
    He was about to let her go, then remembered
the barking he’d heard that morning. “There’s coyote in the area.
Did you bring a gun?”
    She raised a dark eyebrow at him. “No, I
didn’t think I’d need one.”
    He shot her a scowl. “You always need
a gun out here. Ya never know what animals you’ll come across. Men,
too. With all the soldiers coming home from the east, you never
know who you’ll meet up with. And not all of them are honorable.” A
surge of protectiveness rose in him toward this woman—barely more
than a girl—who had lost so much. “Even if you can’t shoot a gun,
you should at least carry it.”
    Her back stiffened. “Of course I can shoot a
gun.”
    He ignored the look of indignation she shot
him. “Then you’d better start carrying one. I’ll ride back with you
as far as the herd.” Without looking at her, he turned Marshall and
started in the direction of the cattle. His skin tingled from the
daggers she was likely shooting at the back of his head, but he
didn’t stop. Stubborn woman. She couldn’t see what was good for her
if it bit her on the nose.
    After a moment, the thud of Bandita’s hooves
sounded behind him. His tone had been harsh. Should he apologize?
But he was just trying to protect her. He slowed Marshall enough to
allow them to catch up. Anna rode beside him without speaking. Her
posture in the saddle was excellent. She didn’t ride side-saddle
like most city girls but sat astride, the extra material in her
dress covering her legs and