Linda Warren - Texas Rebels - Paxton

The cow threw up her head, refusing to budge. He popped her with the rope and she spun in a circle and tried to charge him, but once again he stung her with the rope. The cow licked the calf and slowly started walking toward the corral. Halfway there she turned and tried to charge the horse, but the cowboy used the rope to guide the cow toward the open gate that Gran was holding.

Once the cow and calf were inside, Gran closed the gate, and the cowboy dismounted and jumped across the fence as if it was no more than a twig.

Gran shook the stick at him. “Let me tell you something, sonny boy, no man tells me what to do.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, but Gran didn’t seem to notice. She was intent on doing things her way.

“Good. Now let’s take care of this cow. Remi, open the chute.”

What! To do that she would have to climb over the fence and she knew she couldn’t. What did she do?

She looked up and stared into the cowboy’s dark caramel eyes and saw his concern for her.

“I got it. I’m closer.” He marched over and opened the chute, inches away from her.

“Thank you,” she breathed hoarsely.

“Aw. The lady knows the words.” The corners of his mouth turned into a smile and it was lethal to her emotional state. Her heart raced and her hands were clammy. Suddenly, she was hot. She pushed the hood from her head and unbuttoned her coat. She’d never had this experience before and she rather liked it. Only for a moment. She couldn’t be attracted to Paxton Rebel.

“Are you gonna help me or what?” Gran shouted.

In minutes they had the cow in the chute, and Paxton shoved the little calf in butt-first so he was facing the udder. It was swollen and the teats stuck out filled with milk.

Gran had a stool and a bucket and began to milk the cow. It sounded like rain on a tin roof. Paxton slid into the chute with the calf. Once the teats were smaller Paxton pushed the calf’s face toward the udder. The little thing searched for food, but still wasn’t latching on.

Paxton looked at her. “Reach in and pull a teat toward his mouth.”

“Huh. Okay.” She reached into the space between the boards and found a teat. It felt like a tight rubber glove filled with water.

“Squeeze it into his mouth,” Paxton said.

“I don’t know how to milk.”

“Just squeeze it.”

She did and milk squirted onto the calf’s face and he stuck his tongue out. She squeezed it again, and he caught the teat and began to suck.

“He’s sucking!” she shouted, excited. The calf was in full control so she let go and stroked his head and back. “He’s so cute. His red hair even has a curl to it. I think I’ll call him Curly.”

“We’re not naming this calf,” Gran snapped. “You don’t name animals you plan to sell, and this one will be sold in the fall to help pay taxes.”

“Oh, Gran.”

Gran stood, shaking her head. “City girls. You just can’t change ’em. Now I’m going to the house to fix lunch. We’ll have hot biscuits and gravy and fried chicken. Remi, help Handsome finish up. There’s square bales in the barn. Give her enough to keep her happy.”

Paxton opened the chute and the cow backed out, the little calf following her, eager to suck.

“It’s barely nine o’clock. Why is she fixing lunch so early?” He leaped over the fence and stood next to her, within touching distance. The cold air was suddenly warm. Too warm.

Her throat went dry. “She, uh, has to kill a chicken first and take the feathers off and whatever.”

“You’re kidding. Nobody does that anymore. I remember my grandma doing that when I was kid, but I thought these days everyone got their chicken at the grocery store or already fried at the chicken place.”

“Gran does everything from scratch, the old way.”

“Well, I don’t have time to stay for lunch. I have work to do at the ranch.” He started toward the barn and then stopped. “I thought you were supposed to help.”

“Oh, oh.” She walked toward him, holding on to Sadie, not knowing what she could do to help him.

Paxton nodded toward the dog. “You use her for balance, don’t you?”

She refused to answer as she followed him into the barn. A pungent hay scent filled the air. He cut the strings on a bale and gathered a block in his hands.

“I’d ask you to carry this, but I know you can’t.”

“You don’t have to be mean about it.”

He sighed. “I’m not. I’m just curious as to why you don’t want your grandmother to know you’re not as strong as you should be.” He walked out of the barn with the hay and she followed more slowly. Leaning on the fence, she watched as he laid the hay on the ground. The cow immediately began to eat.

She loved watching him. His actions were effortless and she knew the muscles beneath his winter coat had to be custom-made from hard work. Gran had said that he was a bull rider. To do that he had to stay in shape and just looking at him she knew that he did.

A honking sound echoed through the landscape and Remi looked up to see Canada geese landing on the pond. “Look, geese.” She slowly headed toward the pond and Paxton caught up with her.

“What’s so special about the geese?”

She sat on the small weather-worn bench Gran had put there to sit and feed the geese and ducks. Paxton sat beside her. Maybe just a little too close. Hay, milk and the musky scent of male surrounded her. She didn’t know why she was so aware of him and she had to stop torturing herself.

“It’s nice out here by the pond,” he said.

Large live oak trees shaded the pond on the right, their heavy branches just inches from the water. The air was fresh and invigorating. A peacefulness came over Remi.

“Yes, it’s nice.” Her eyes met the caramel sweetness of his and she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

Finally, he asked again, “What’s so special about the geese?”

She pointed to two geese on the other side of the pond. “That’s Henry and Henrietta, otherwise known as Henny.”

“It looks like one of them has a broken wing. It’s almost dragging the ground.”

“That’s Henny. Gran said a bobcat attacked her, but she managed to get away. She can’t fly anymore so this is home now. Gran was worried Henry would fly away and leave Henny here by herself, but Henry has never left her side. Canada geese mate for life. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Unbelievable.”

She scooted a little farther away from him. He was so close she was feeling breathless. “Yeah. It would be nice if humans could get it right, but there’s more divorce now than ever.”

“Mmm.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “I don’t want to be nosy, but what happened to you?”

“It’s a long story.” She ran her hand down the thigh of her jogging pants and wondered if he was someone she could confide in.

“I got time.”

“You said earlier you had to work,” she reminded him.

“Aw, that’s just to get away from Miss Bertie. She’s a character.”

“Yes, but she can be lovable, too.”

“I’ll take your word for that.”

The geese squawked on the pond, flapping their wings and ducking their heads into the water. It was peaceful and comforting and she felt as if they were the only two people in the world.

“So what happened?” He was prodding her, but in a nice way.

“My parents are very protective of me. It’s smothering sometimes. I wasn’t even two years old when my mom left Horseshoe and she didn’t come back for a whole year. Gran came to see us in Houston and she complained all the time that it was ridiculous Mom couldn’t bring me to visit her. Eventually we started visiting, but we never left the ranch. I guess my mom was afraid of running into Uncle Ira. They had a big fight over Ruger. It even went to court, and since Ruger was eleven, the judge let him decide where he wanted to live and he chose my uncle. My mom was devastated. I’ve called Ruger many times and he’s always tells me to stay away. He’s my brother and I’d like to have some sort of connection with him, but Uncle Ira controls him.”