Rough Diamonds: Wyoming Tough / Diamond in the Rough. Diana Palmer
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he’d kissed her and enjoyed it so much. He tried not to revisit that episode.
“Not my problem,” she murmured, and hoped she didn’t sound insolent.
“She said that the judge seemed to know you.”
“Can’t imagine why,” she said, looking up innocently. “I sure don’t travel in those circles. He might have seen me in the kitchen where I used to work, though.”
“Where was that?” he asked. “The place you used to work?”
She stared at him blankly. She’d made up the name of the place, although she’d given the phone number of a friend’s housekeeper who’d promised to sound convincing if anybody checked her out.
“Well?” he persisted.
She was flushed and the soy calf formula was leaking out of the oversize bottle she was using to feed him. Just when it seemed as if she was going to blow her own cover, a sudden loud noise came from outside the barn. It was followed by a barrage of range language that was even worse than what Morie had heard come out of her father during roundup.
Mallory rushed out. Morie, curious, put the calf back in his stall, set the empty bottle on a nearby shelf and followed.
Cane was throwing things. A saddle was lying on the ground. In the distance, a horse was galloping away.
“Mud-brained, unshod son of a…!” he raged, until he spotted Morie and bit down hard on the last word.
“What in the world is the matter with you?” Mallory asked.
Cane glared at him. His thick, short black hair was in disorder all over his head. His dark brown eyes, large and cold, were glittery with bad temper. His sensuous mouth was pulled tight against his teeth.
“I was trying to put a saddle on Old Bill,” he muttered. “I thought I could manage him. I haven’t been on a horse since I came home. The damned outlaw knocked me down on the saddle and ran off.”
The empty sleeve, pinned at the elbow where his arm had been amputated, was poignant. Cane was ultrasensitive about his injury. He never spoke of the circumstances under which he’d lost part of his arm, or about his military service. He drank, a lot, and kept to himself. He was avoided by most of the men, especially when he was turning the air blue, like now.
Morie sighed and went to the barn. She brought out one of the other older saddle horses they kept for visitors. This one was quite gentle, like the one that had run away. She heard Mallory telling one of the men to go after it.
She picked up Cane’s saddle, ignoring his outraged, indignant look. She turned the horse and draped the saddle over his back, pulling up the cinch and fastening it deftly.
“Don’t fuss,” she told Cane when she handed him the bridle. “Everybody needs a little help now and then. It’s not demeaning to let someone do you a favor. Even the hired help.”
He glared down at her for a few seconds, during which she thought he was probably going to storm away or dress her down for her insolence.
But finally he just shook his head. “Okay. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She handed him the reins.
He was looking at the horse dubiously. It was obvious that he hadn’t tried to mount one since he was wounded.
“We have a friend back in Texas that we used to go riding with,” she said, without giving away much. “He lost an arm doing merc work overseas. He mounted offside so that he could use his good hand on the pommel to spring up into the saddle. Worked like a charm.”
His dark eyebrows went up under the wide brim of his hat. “You don’t let anybody intimidate you, do you?”
She smiled. “You’re not intimidating. You’re just a little scary sometimes.”
He shook his head again. “Okay, I’ll try it. But if I land on my face, you’re fired.”
“You can’t fire her,” Mallory pointed out. “Unless you hired her, and you didn’t. Get on that horse and let’s go search out straggling heifers. They really are right about snow this time.”
Cane looked at his brother. “I’ll give it a shot.”
He fumbled the first time and almost fell. But he tried again, and again, until he got the rhythm just right. He sprang up into the saddle with a heavy sigh and took the reins in his hand. He wheeled the horse around and looked down at Morie. “Thanks.”
She gave him an encouraging look. “You’re welcome.”
Mallory rode in between them. “Let’s go. Daylight’s burning.”
“I’m right behind you.”
Mallory glanced at Morie and he wasn’t smiling. He didn’t like Cane smiling at her. He didn’t know why, and that made him even angrier.
“Get back to work,” he told her. He rode off behind his brother without another word.
Morie glared after him. “I was going to,” she muttered. “What did you think, I had a date to go sailing on the Caribbean or something?”
“Talking to yourself,” Darby teased. “Better watch that. They’ll be sending men with nets after you.”
“If they do, I’ll tell them the boss drove me batty,” she assured him.
“Nice, what you did for Cane,” he said, sobering. “He hasn’t tried to get on a horse since he came back. I thought he’d give up after Old Bill ran off. None of us would have dared to do what you did. Saw him punch a cowboy once for even offering, a few months ago.”
“He’s just hurting,” she said. “He doesn’t know how to cope, how to interact with people, how to go on doing normal things. I heard that he won’t go to physical therapy or even talk to a psychologist. That’s hurting him, too. It must be horrible, for a man so active and vital, to lose an arm.”
“He was the rodeo champ,” he replied solemnly. “Killed him when he had to stop competing.”
“He’ll adjust,” she said softly. “It will take time, and help. Once he realizes that, and starts going back to the therapist, he’ll learn to live with it. Like our friend did.”
His eyes narrowed. “Odd friend. A mercenary.”
“We have friends of all sorts.” She laughed. “My dad likes renegades and odd people.”
“Well, I suppose it takes all kinds to run the world,” he replied. His eyes sparkled. “And we had better get back to work. Bad time to lose a job, in this economy.”
“Tell me about it!”
WHEN CANE AND THE BOSS came back, she was riding out to check the fence line.
“You keep that music box in your pocket and those earphones out of your ears while you’re out alone, got that?” Mallory ordered abruptly.
She knew without asking that Tank had told him how he found her moving the broken tree limb. She grimaced. “Okay, boss.”
“What sort of music do you like?” Cane asked conversationally.
“Every sort,” she said with a grin. “Right now my favorite is the soundtrack from August Rush.”
His eyebrows arched. “Nice. Tank loves it, too. He bought the score. He’s still trying to master it.”
“Dalton plays?” she blurted out. She flushed and laughed when Mallory stared at her. “I noticed the grand piano in the living room. I wondered who played it.”
“Tank’s good,” Cane said, smiling. He nodded toward Mallory. “He plays, too. Of course, he’s mostly tone-deaf, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.”
“I can play better than Tank,” Mallory said,