Stella Bagwell - The Cowboy And The Debutante

From the corner of her eye, Anna noticed he didn’t appear a bit surprised by her grim announcement. But then, he’d overheard her opinion about men in the stables. Apparently he’d not forgotten her vow.

“I’m sure having a husband would be a hindrance to your life-style.”

She stared at him, her features wrinkling with dismay. “A hindrance?”

Miguel quickly shook his head. “Forget it. We’d better kick our mounts up. The boys are probably waiting on me.”

Miguel Chavez believed she was selfish. He obviously thought nothing mattered to her except living the high life. She could have very nearly laughed if the whole thing hadn’t been so painful. From the time she’d been a small child Anna had never done what she really wanted. Even where Scott was concerned, she’d planned to make all sorts of sacrifices to ensure their marriage would start out on solid ground. But let Miguel think what he wanted. What she carried around in her heart was her own business.

In mutual consent, Anna touched her heels to Ginger’s sides. Their horses immediately broke into a short lope and the faster gait put a halt to any more conversation. Anna was relieved. The man was like barbed wire. Every word, every glance from him pricked her in the most irritating way.

Within a few minutes they topped a rise. In the valley below, a group of portable cattle pens and a squeeze chute had been set up to make a working ranch yard. Six more cowboys and twice that many saddled horses were gathered around the orange metal fencing. Several yards beyond, a chuck wagon was parked and ready to prepare the noonday meal. Near to the makeshift kitchen, a fire had been built and a huge granite coffeepot hung over the low flames. As she and the foreman rode into camp, the scent of the strong brew mingled with horses and leather and crushed sagebrush. It was a mixture of smells Anna loved, and as she sniffed she was enveloped with fond memories.

Several years had passed since Anna had helped with spring roundup. Since then, Lester had retired, and now Miguel Chavez had stepped in to fill his boots. The fact that her mother had hired the man told Anna she obviously respected him as a person and, also, that he knew his business well. Anna normally trusted her mother’s judgment, but this was one time she was anxious to see if the man lived up to his reputation.

From the moment Miguel had walked up on Anna last evening in the stables, he’d gotten the impression she was far too delicate and sensitive to deal with any sort of ranch work. She was a pianist, for heaven’s sake. She entertained rich people. Riding the desert range and branding cattle might have been in Anna’s life years ago, but it wasn’t now.

Throughout the morning Miguel kept a close eye on her. After a couple hours passed, he had to concede, in spite of her hothouse looks, she wasn’t helpless. She handled Ginger with practiced ease and had no problems heading rollicking calves down off the mountains and into the holding pens.

In fact, she worked with dogged persistence and appeared to know the lay of the land far better than any of the hands. Still Miguel wasn’t ready to admit she belonged out here on roundup. Especially when the work on the ground started.

By the time the group stopped to eat a dinner of refried beans, Spanish rice and hot tortillas, more than three hundred head of calves had been gathered. After the meal was over, fires were built in one of the pens and branding irons in the shape of a bar resting atop an M were thrust into the hot coals to heat.

when Miguel realized Anna intended to help with this chore, too, he was shocked. As she made her way toward the work pens, he took her by the arm and led her a few yards out of earshot of the other cowboys.

“Don’t tell me you have the notion you’re going to join the men in the work pens,” he said to her.

She arched one haughty brow at him. “Of course. That’s why I came out here...to help with roundup.”

Miguel should have expected her to argue with him. It was probably a rare thing for her to ever hear the word no. “Look, Anna, you’re going to get smeared with manure and dirt. You might even get burned or kicked or worse.”

She shot him a tired look. “Just because I’ve been living away for the past few years, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten anything about my upbringing, Miguel. Or are you afraid I’m going to be in the way of your cowboys?”

Miguel didn’t exactly think she’d be in the way. He really didn’t know why he was so opposed to her working on the ground. He only knew he felt a need to protect her.

Hell, Miguel, he silently cursed himself. You ought to know Anna doesn’t need protecting. She was one of those women who prided herself on her independence and self-reliance. If she ever did need a man’s strength or shoulder to rely on, it wouldn’t be a Mexican cowboy like himself.

“No,” he said with sudden gruffness. “I don’t think you’ll be in the way. I just thought I’d save you from the nasty work. But if that’s your cup of tea, have at it.”

He jerked his head toward the pens, where already the calves were bawling with loud protests, and the stench of burning hair and hide drifted on the high-desert wind.

It was obvious to Anna that he didn’t want her working in the pens. She didn’t know if his attitude stemmed from genuine concern for her safety or to simply be the boss. Either way it annoyed her. From the time she’d been old enough and strong enough to hold a kicking calf’s hocks together, she’d helped her mother and Aunt Rose in the branding pen. She didn’t appreciate an outsider telling her she was no longer welcome.

“Look, Miguel, the Bar M wasn’t always blessed with as many hands as you have working here for you today. When my twin and I were born, my mother and aunts were taking care of this ranch by themselves. And even years later, when I was a small girl, it wasn’t all that much better. I know how to work, and I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty.”

“Have you thought what would happen if you get your hand or finger crushed or burned? Your career would end.”

Her expression grim, she said, “If need be, I can face my career ending. What I can’t bear is being cloistered. Ever.”

He held his palms up as if to say he wasn’t going to argue with her. “You want to be reckless, go right ahead. I won’t stop you.”

Reckless. Anna wished for once she could let herself really go. Right at the moment she’d take immense pleasure in slapping Miguel Chavez’s jaw. “But you’d like to stop me,” she said crisply.

He let out a rough sigh. To deal with a precocious woman on today of all days was the last thing Miguel needed. “It doesn’t matter what I want. This is your ranch. I’m sure you’re going to do what pleases you, and to hell with my wishes.”

Anna gasped and was totally unaware that her fists had become planted on both her hips. “This isn’t my ranch, either! It belongs to my parents and my aunts and uncles.”

He glanced pointedly away from her, and Anna realized he was annoyed that she was wasting his time with trivial facts. Well, wasn’t that too bad, she thought. He was the one who’d started all this nonsense in the first place.

“Isn’t that all the same?” he asked.

“No! And I don’t like the impression I’m getting from you.”

His dark brows lifted skeptically. “What impression?”

“That you think I’m—some sort of little princess that has to be condescended to.”

His nostrils flared, and something dark and dangerous flickered in his hazel eyes. “If you think you can make me believe for one minute that you’ve ever had to suffer and struggle to make ends meet, you’re sadly mistaken. I’m not a fool, Anna. You were born into wealth, and you wouldn’t know what it was like to be without it.”