Never Love a Cowboy by Lorraine Heath Read Free Book Online Page A

if hurry was a stranger to the man. He secured the rope around the saddle horn. Bending over, he cupped his hands near the stirrup and motioned toward Jessye. “Ma’am, iffen you’ll just mount up here and guide the horse back, me and your husband there—”
    “He’s not my husband,” Jessye told him.
    A welcoming grin crept onto the man’s face. “That so?”
    Incensed at the camaraderie developing between Jessye and this stranger, Harrison stepped forward. “She is, however, the investor and, therefore, I would take great offense if she was not treated with the utmost respect.”
    “Investor? In what?” he asked, his gaze never leaving Jessye.
    “Cattle, Mr. Magpie—”
    “No mister to it. Just a front name. Ain’t got no back name.”
    Jessye smiled warmly. “We’re gathering cattle to take them north.”
    “Now if that don’t beat all. I know cows like I know the back of my hand. Here I was wondering what I was gonna do with the rest of my life—”
    “Do you think we might attempt to get this beast out before the sun sets?” Harrison asked.
    “Yes, sir,” Magpie said.
    Jessye slipped her booted foot into Magpie’s cupped palms, and Harrison had to restrain himself from snatching it back. Magpie hoisted her into the saddle, a feat Jessye performed on her own every morning.
    The man tipped his hat at Jessye. “You do the pullin’, and we’ll do the pushin’.”
    Magpie trudged into the mud as though it weren’t the most disgusting substance in the area. “You comin’?” Magpie asked.
    Harrison glanced at Jessye, the challenging glint in her eyes irritating him more than the damned beast’s stubbornness. The slimy mud eased between his toes as he made his way to the back end of the creature.
    “Give him a tug!” Magpie ordered just before he leaned his shoulder against the animal’s rump. Harrison did the same. The animal released a bawl, followed by a snort.
    The bull lurched forward. Harrison lost his leverage and landed facedown in the muddy bog.
    “We got him!” Jessye cried.
    “We sure did,” Magpie yelled.
    Harrison twisted his head to see Magpie standing beside him, grinning like the village idiot.
    “Reckon I forgot to mention that when they getgood and ready to move, they move fast.”
    Harrison gave the man a forced grin. “ Reckon you did, at that.”
    While he watched Magpie slinging mud as he made his way toward solid ground, Harrison contemplated various methods of torture that his ancestors had developed, trying to determine which one would offer the best revenge.
     
    Jessye quietly wended her way through the trees and shrubbery to the edge of the river and crouched at its bank. Within the moonlight, she saw Harry scrubbing his body with that fancy-smelling soap of his. Sandalwood, he called it. She couldn’t understand why that scent mingled with the sweat of his labors always made her want to stand closer to him. Maybe because it was so different from the stench of drunks.
    His clothes, now free of mud, were draped nearby over some low-hanging branches. The man sure put a lot of stock in the way his clothes looked. Most cowboys put on their clothing at the start of a roundup and took them off when the trail drive ended and they had money with which to purchase a new outfit. But not Harry. His clothes would be worn thin from washing, not wearing.
    The water lapped at his hips as he rubbed briskly with the soap, his back to her. She enjoyed watching the light from the moon and stars chase the shadows over his broad shoulders. She hadn’t wanted to touch a man in a long time. Curling her fingers until they bit into her palms, she cursed them for wanting to play the shadow dance over Harry’s back. She imagined her lips joining the game. Did Englishmen taste like Texans?
    Her tongue circled her lips. She didn’t think kissing Harry would be a hardship, and she contemplated that thought more often than she should. Would his beard tickle or caress? Would his mouth