Jackie Merritt - Tough To Tame

Carly still wasn’t through with the subject, however. “I can’t believe Dad would agree to killing such a beautiful animal, just because he’s a nuisance,” she said with distinct disapproval.

Jake stopped walking and faced her. He spoke gruffly, impatiently. “Let me set the record straight. First of all, I said some of the men think we should shoot that horse. I didn’t say how I felt about it. Second, that stallion is not just a nuisance. He’s a damn thief, and as long as he’s running wild he’s going to keep on increasing his herd of mares. Do you think a rancher should ignore the loss of valuable horses? Your father doesn’t think so, and neither do I.” Spinning on his heel, Jake headed for the house.

Carly ran to catch up. “So you’re not going to shoot him?”

“I didn’t say that, either,” Jake growled, surprising himself with a comment that indicated he might decide to shoot the stallion, when, in fact, he’d never once considered that option. He was not an animal killer, never had been. He didn’t even like hunting. But that stallion had him on edge, Carly herself had him on edge, and he wished to high heaven that she would just stop talking about it.

She knew what he wished, which was kind of strange as reading other people’s minds was not a common occurrence for her. But Banyon’s annoyance was so obvious. He actually looked pained, as though she or some unseen thing was sticking pins into him.

Well, that was just tough. No one was going to shoot 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.