Lois Dyer - Cattleman's Heart

Rebecca peered through the narrow opening between two of the heavy planks. “Tiny?” She glanced at Jackson in disbelief. His swift smile sent a jolt of electricity shivering up her spine.

“His registered name is too long to pronounce, so Hank gave him a nickname.”

“And he picked Tiny?” Rebecca stared at the massive animal. She’d never been this close to a purebred bull before, but he seemed huge, his reddish-brown coat marked with white at his head, lower legs and the tip of his tail. He stood placidly, eyeing her calmly.

“Hank has a quirky sense of humor.”

Rebecca glanced quickly at Jackson but he was looking at the bull and she couldn’t tell if he was joking. “I see.”

“Tiny is the first.” Jackson gestured at the empty stalls on each side. “Within six months, I want to have this barn full.” He turned, waiting for Rebecca to fall in step with him before walking outside. New posts and wire fencing marched in a gleaming straight line away from the building. “We fenced this pasture for Tiny. After we finish upgrading the buildings, we’ll start fencing the rest of the pasture land to hold heifers. I’ll breed them to the bulls and sell the calves, which will allow the ranch to maximize use of all the acreage and the availability of our own bulls.”

“It sounds like a huge project,” Rebecca commented.

“It is,” Jackson agreed. “A lot of work and a big initial investment, but well worth it in the long run.”

Rebecca shaded her eyes against the hot sun, her gaze sweeping over the fenced area where they stood and a corral on the far side of the barn. A muscular bay quarter horse inside the enclosure lifted his head and pricked his ears, nickering softly. “You have horses?”

“Of course.”

“How many?”

“Six.”

They walked toward the corral and Rebecca felt his sidelong glance as surely as if he’d touched her. But she was determined not to react.

“What do you use them for?”

“Rounding up cattle, riding fence lines, just about anything we can that doesn’t require a truck. I’d rather ride a horse than drive a pickup.” They reached the corral fence and stopped. The bay horse stretched his head toward them over the top rail, and Jackson rubbed his forehead between his well-shaped ears, pushing the black forelock aside. “This is Shorty.”

“Shorty?” Rebecca laughed. The bay was tall for a quarter horse, his legs long. “Let me guess, Hank named him?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact he did. How did you know?”

“Just a wild guess.”

The sound of an engine disturbed the quiet afternoon. A truck sped toward them on the gravel ranch road that led to the highway, a cloud of dust billowing in its wake.

“That must be Mick.” Jackson glanced at his watch. “I have to get back to work on the barn. You’ve seen most of the current construction, but if there’s anything else you think you need to see, we can come back after dinner.”

“I’ve seen enough to send my home office a preliminary report. Perhaps you can give me a tour of the remaining outbuildings later this week?”

“Sure.” Jackson pointed at several outbuildings on the far side of the barn. “We haven’t done any work on them yet, but the granaries and machine shop are in better shape than the barn.”

“That’s fortunate.” Rebecca stroked her palm down Shorty’s nose before turning away.

They crossed a short expanse of grass to the gate set into the fence where it met the corner of the barn. Jackson unlatched the heavy gate, the powerful muscles in his shoulders, biceps and forearms flexing as he pulled it open. Her arm accidentally brushed his as she walked past him and through the opening, and the air crackled with swift electricity. Startled, she glanced up. Her gaze collided with Jackson’s and found the same hot awareness that slammed into her, stealing her breath. She faltered before tearing her gaze from his and stepping quickly away from the fence. She was several strides ahead of him by the time he refastened the gate and followed.

“Thanks for the tour.” He was still a step behind her when she spoke.

“No problem.”

She lifted a hand in response to Mick’s greeting but kept walking, determined to remove herself from temptation, angling toward the house while Jackson strode toward the truck parked in front of the barn.

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