The Enemy's Daughter. Linda Turner
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as the others quickly joined in, someone pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and the game was on.
It didn’t take long for his companions to figure out that Steve was no slouch when it came to cards—or for him to realize that they could hold their own with him when it came to bluffing. Especially Nate. He could be holding everything from a royal flush to nothing but a pair of deuces, but you’d never know it from the easygoing grin on his face.
And that made him a very dangerous man indeed, Steve acknowledged. When you couldn’t tell what someone was thinking, you didn’t dare turn your back on him. He knew that, accepted it and didn’t intend to forget it. But that didn’t mean he didn’t thoroughly enjoy pitting his wits against Nate and every other man there. From the way things were looking, first with the daughter, then Nate and the rest of the hands, this mission was going to be a hell of a lot more fun than he’d expected.
Losing his second hand in a row to the older man, Steve watched him rake in winnings that at the outset of the hand he’d been sure were his, and he could do nothing but swear good-naturedly. “You’ve got a hell of a way of losing there, mate. You ever let anyone else lose?”
“Not if I can help it.” He chuckled. “I kind of like it this way.”
“I can see why you would,” Steve drawled, amused. “Just don’t get too comfortable. Things are about to change.”
Far from perturbed, Nate only grinned. “I wouldn’t go spending my winnings just yet, if I were you. From where I’m sitting, you haven’t got any.”
“The night’s not over yet,” Steve retorted, his own grin wide. “Deal.”
With nothing more than that, the challenge was issued and the stakes were raised. Enjoying himself, Steve won the next two hands, then lost three. But he couldn’t complain. The game stayed friendly, and it gave him a chance to learn more about Lise and her elusive father.
Tossing his ante into the middle of the table for the next game, he said with studied casualness, “I guess things are pretty easy around here when the boss is away, huh? How long’s he going to be gone?”
In the process of taking a sip of his whiskey, Chuck, the youngest of the group, nearly choked. “What are you talking about? The old man doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what’s going on around here. He’s not here half the time. Lise is the one who keeps this place going.”
“And she does a damn good job of it,” Preston, the quiet one of the group, said proudly.
The others nodded in agreement, and there was no question that Lise was respected by all of them. “She’s a good boss,” Nate said. “I never worked for a better one.”
“No kidding?” Steve said. “This place must be half the size of Texas. You sure her boyfriend’s not helping her? That’s an awful lot of responsibility for a woman alone.”
Fishing for more information, Steve threw the bait out and didn’t have to wait long for a response. “Lise ain’t got no boyfriend,” Frankie, a big, balding hulk of a cowboy, said with a crooked grin. “Never has, as far as I remember.”
“Wait a minute,” Barney said. A short, husky man with a tattoo of a mermaid on his arm, he had a wicked grin and the very devil in his eyes. “Don’t go forgetting old man McEnnis. He was sweet on her there for a while.”
“Sweet, my eye,” Nate retorted. “The old geezer didn’t have any teeth! And he died the next week! That ain’t no boyfriend. That’s a nightmare!”
Everyone laughed at that, including Steve, even as he filed away the information for future use. So Lise didn’t have a man in her life, and from the sound of it, never had. That would make romancing her a hell of a lot easier, if that’s what he had to do to find out more information about her father.
In her father’s study in the main house, Lise sat at his oversize desk and was frowning at the ranch books when there was a knock at the study door. Glancing up, she smiled at the sight of Tuck standing on the threshold with his hat in his hand, looking for all the world like an overgrown kid being called on the carpet before the schoolmaster. He was a big man, nearly as tall as she, with a round face and an easygoing nature that made him a favorite with just about everyone. That didn’t, however, mean he was soft. Far from it, in fact. He could be tough as nails when he had to, and knew the cattle business inside and out. Which was why he was her right-hand man. She could always depend on him to tell it to her straight when it came to anything concerning the station.
Closing the station books, she sat back in her chair and motioned him inside. “Have a seat. Is that the list of supplies we need for the roundup?”
“Yeah. Sorry it’s so late. I meant to have it to you by this afternoon, but I couldn’t get Cookie to give me a list of the provisions he wanted to take. You know how he is. He never can make up his mind until the last minute.” Handing over the list to her, he took the seat across from her desk and sighed in relief as the cool air of the air-conditioning washed over him. “Damn, that feels good! The heat’s really been getting to me this year. I don’t know how I’m going to stand the roundup. It’s going to be hotter than hell out there in the bush.”
Making no attempt to hold back a grin, Lise had to laugh. For as long as she could remember, the fall roundup was held the same time every year. And every year, Tuck complained about the heat. Anyone listening to him would think he was a whiny baby who didn’t have a bit of stamina, but every year, he toughed it out with the best of them and weathered the heat just fine.
“You love it and you know it,” she teased. “What about the rest of the men? Are they all ready? How’s Frankie’s foot? He didn’t seem to be favoring it as much today as he has been.”
Just last week, Frankie’s horse had stepped on his foot and he’d been hobbling around ever since. “It’s better than it was,” Tuck replied, “but it’s still tender. It should be better by next week. Even if it’s not, we’ve got the Yank to pick up the slack, so we should do fine.”
Her pulse kicking into high gear just at the memory of how he’d made her feel, Lise frowned. “You think he’ll be able to handle the work?”
He laughed. “Are you kidding? He’s big as a house! And from what you told me about the way he hauled you out from under Thunder’s hooves, he’s not only strong, he keeps his head in an emergency. You must have thought so, too, or you wouldn’t have hired him.”
She couldn’t deny it. Like Tuck, she’d thought he was just what she needed in a cowboy. Now she wasn’t so sure. There was something about the man that disturbed her, and she couldn’t for the life of her say what it was. For now, though, she was reserving judgment on Steve Trace, though she had no intention of admitting that to Tuck.
“It’s not like we’ve got a flood of cowboys beating a path to our door in search of a job,” she said dryly. “Beggars can’t be choosers. Sometimes, you’ve got to take what you get till something better comes along. Not that he’s not going to work out,” she amended quickly. “At this point, it’s too soon to tell. But at least we’ve got another hand for the roundup, and right now, that’s our main concern.”
If he didn’t work out after that, she thought, she’d send him packing. They’d be shorthanded again, but somebody would come along eventually. They always did.
The next day started early. Long before daylight, the men were up and dressed and wolfing down bacon and eggs and homemade biscuits in the dining hall. Feeling like he was back home again in his mother’s kitchen, Steve bit into his first biscuit of the morning and groaned in appreciation. Lise hadn’t been kidding when she said she fed her cowboys well. His mother was an excellent cook, but even she never made biscuits like this. “Damn, this is great!”
Looking up from the four biscuits he was slathering with real butter, Frankie grinned. “If you think this is good, wait till the roundup starts. You’re not going to believe what Cookie can do on a campfire.”
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