Cowboy Under Fire. Carla Cassidy
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watching him as he’d started to work with the new horse. Why would she step out of her tent and away from her work so many times during each day to watch him if she didn’t have some kind of intrigue about him?
He released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as her door finally reopened and she stepped out into the waning darkness in a pair of black capris and a blue and black sleeveless cotton blouse.
She sank into the chair next to his and shifted positions several times, obviously a bit uncomfortable with the entire situation.
“Cold beer?” he asked.
“Okay,” she agreed almost eagerly.
He reached into the nearby cooler and pulled out two beer bottles. He opened hers and handed it to her. “Now, the real question: I’ve got the grill hot and ready, so how about a hot dog?”
She finally leaned back in the chair. “Is that what they do at barn dances? Drink beer and eat hot dogs?”
“There’s definitely a lot of beer and whiskey drinking that goes on, but the menu usually includes smoked ribs and baked beans, tubs of potato salad and all kinds of pies. I couldn’t quite accomplish all that so you’re stuck with cold beer and hot dogs.”
“Then I’ll have a hot dog,” she replied, again surprising him. His surprise must have shown. “It’s only right that I have one since you’ve gone to so much trouble.” She cocked her head to one side and gazed at him. “Why have you gone to all this trouble?”
“I just thought it might do you some good to get out of that room and eat something besides cheese puffs and those dry bars of oats or whatever.” He pulled a couple of hot dogs from the cooler and used a fork to set them on the grill.
“How did you know I eat cheese puffs and protein bars?”
“I’ve seen your trash. It’s not healthy for a woman to eat those things on a daily basis without something more substantial.” The hot dogs sizzled and filled the air with their scent.
“Actually I had a salad tonight for dinner. Devon picked it up at the café for me at noon.” She took a sip of her beer.
“That’s good to know.” He pulled buns and two squeeze bottles, one of ketchup and of mustard, out of the cooler, along with a couple of paper plates.
Despite the smells of charcoal and cooking meat, he could smell her, a clean scent of minty soap and a faint hint of something floral. His stomach tightened, and he didn’t know if it was because he liked the way she smelled or because he’d skipped supper in anticipation of potentially being here with her now.
“What else happens at these barn dances?” she asked curiously.
He turned the hot dogs over before replying. “Music and dancing. There’s usually at least one drunken brawl, but rarely any hard feelings afterward.” He frowned and thought about the ranch hands who worked the Humes place next to the Holiday Ranch. There didn’t have to be booze involved for there to be hard feelings between the cowboys of the two ranches. There was also no reason to bring up that particular unpleasant topic tonight.
“I still don’t understand why you did all this. I know what everyone calls me behind my back. I definitely have shown myself to be antisocial and at times downright nasty,” she said.
Forest gestured in the direction of the small corral in the distance. “That horse is antisocial, too. But with a lot of patience and a dose of tenderness, he’ll wind up being a fine companion.” He winced at his own words. “Not that I’m comparing you to a horse.”
He busied himself getting the grilled hot dogs to the buns and on the paper plates. She wanted mustard, no ketchup, and he wanted ketchup and no mustard.
“Why didn’t you go to the dance with the rest of your friends?” she asked once they each had a plate and he’d tossed two more hot dogs on the grill.
“I was hoping I’d be here with you,” he replied easily.
She looked at him as if he had grown two heads. “Why would you want to be here with me?”
He studied her in the light of the full moon that had appeared overhead. Why, indeed? “Beats me,” he finally replied honestly. “Why did you agree to come out and sit with me?”
“Beats me,” she echoed him.
“To be honest, you’ve intrigued me since you first arrived here.”
“Are you some kind of a masochist? Are you usually drawn to mean women with viper tongues?”
Forest laughed. “None of the above. I’d just like to get to know you a little better, maybe see what’s beneath the mean-woman attitude.”
“And what if you discover there’s only more mean woman underneath?”
He grinned at her. “Then I’ll just say it was nice knowing you and won’t plan any more barn dances with you.” He pulled the other two hot dogs from the grill and was surprised when she agreed to eat another one.
They both fell silent as they ate, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. She probably thought he was a nut. She was right. He’d been a little nutty since the first time he’d seen her.
Even before ever talking to her, she’d been in his head as he’d watched her interact, or more accurately, not interact with others. He’d watched the sun spark on her hair whenever she stepped outside of the tent and had wondered if it was as soft to the touch as it looked. He’d wondered what her laughter might sound like, what kind of a person she was when she wasn’t working. He’d spent a lot of time wondering all kinds of things about her.
When they’d finished with the hot dogs, he moved the small grill some distance away. The night air was warm enough without the closeness of the heated charcoal. Once he returned to his chair, he turned up the radio, not so loud that they couldn’t talk, but so that they could hear the foot-stomping country music.
“I won’t ask you about your findings so far, but tell me a little bit about the work you do as a forensic anthropologist.”
“Surely you aren’t really interested in that,” she protested.
“But I am,” he replied. “I only went to school through tenth grade. I’m always interested in learning new things.”
The fact that he had so little formal schooling wasn’t usually something he talked about, but tragic circumstances and fear had forever changed the path his life was supposed to have taken.
He was interested, but more than that he liked the sound of her voice. When she wasn’t screaming or yelling at somebody to get out of her tent, she had a pleasant, almost musical voice that was quite appealing.
He pulled another beer out for each of them and settled back in the chair as she began to talk about soil analysis and the measurement of bone length and density.
Her face came alive when she talked about her work. Her eyes sparkled brightly and her features took on an animation that only made her more attractive than he already found her.
The moonlight lit her hair to a fiery red and bathed her face in an illumination that softened all of her features. By the time she’d finished talking, he wanted more than anything to draw her into his arms and dance with her.
“Facts, that’s what I deal in. Scientific facts that never lie,” she finished.
“Facts are important, but a little flight of fancy isn’t too bad, either,” he replied.
She grew silent, and he had a feeling she didn’t do flights of fancy often. Instead of discussing the issue, he began to point out the many star constellations that were visible in the night sky and explained how cowboys used the stars to navigate in the dark.
“So, if you ever find a grave of old bones, I’m your girl and if I ever find myself alone in the dark in a pasture, I’d want you by my side,” she said.