that surrounded the corral on three sides, and he leaned his elbows on the top rail. The image of Katherine, here alone, struggling with the day-to-day work of caring for a farm and all the animals involved, was an overwhelming idea.
“I don’t see how you handled it all,” he said finally.
“I managed. We all do what we have to.”
“And then?” he said, urging her. “Then he came home?”
“He came home.” She took a deep breath, and her smile was tender with the memory. “He rode that big stallion up to the porch one afternoon and called me out of the house, just as if he’d only been gone for a day or so. ‘Katie, my love,’ he said. ‘Your father’s home.’ Just like that,” she told him with emphasis on the words. “Just as if he’d been to town for supplies.”
“Was your brother here at all while Charlie was gone?”
“No. I haven’t any idea where Lawson was.” She glanced at Roan soberly. “I told you, I don’t talk about him.”
“Charlie—” he began.
“I need to go to the house.” Her dismissal was abrupt. “Dinner will be ready shortly.”
Katherine’s retreat gave him pause, and he watched as she left his side to walk with long, hurried strides across the yard to the small house. You were right, Charlie. She’s small, and fierce, and ready to do battle at the drop of a hat. Not an inch of give to her.
He followed her, stopping long enough at the well to pump fresh water. Within minutes, he was ready to eat, sleeves rolled above his elbows, hair damp and smoothed back from his forehead. He carried his hat with him into the house and snagged it on the peg inside the door as he passed.
She’d already set the table and was pouring a tall glass of milk as he came in.
“I like milk at noontime,” she said, looking his way.
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” he agreed, sliding into the chair he’d used the night before.
He ate his fill before he spoke again, his stomach welcoming the chunks of roasted venison and the abundant array of vegetables she’d prepared.
“Someone sure taught you how to cook, Katherine.” Moving his chair back, he crossed one booted foot over the other knee.
She allowed her eyes to rest on him for a moment. He looked contented and well fed, sitting across the table. Deceptively idle, for even in repose, there was the look of a hunter about him, a faint menace that set her on edge. He was handy with fence-mending tools, though, she reminded herself, and for that she had to be grateful.
“I found early on if you don’t cook, you don’t eat,” she said finally, uneasy with his compliment. “My pa was never one to lend a hand around a stove, so after my mother died, I learned in a hurry how to put a meal together.”
“I wouldn’t mind havin’ dinner here on a regular basis for a while,” he said easily. “Fact is, I’ve got sort of a deal in mind to offer you.”
“I’m not much for making deals. The last time a man tried to make a deal with me, he came close to getting shot for his effort.”
“What did he want? The three-year-old mare?”
She caught the amusement in his voice and flushed. “No, he wanted the whole kit and caboodle. The farm, the horses and me.”
“I take it you weren’t agreeable.”
“It wasn’t any bargain from my point of view.”
“Well, maybe I can strike a better deal than he tried for. It’ll involve some of my time and more work than I’d planned on doing right now, but it might pay you to listen up.”
“Are we back to my three-year-old?” she asked suspiciously.
“She’s a good-sized horse and she’s ready to be saddle-broke,” he said firmly. “If she’s bred from Charlie’s stud, I’d like to have a go at her. I can be in the saddle in a week or so, and you can have a hell of a lot of work done around here in the meantime.”
“I’m not in the market for a hired hand, Mr. Devereaux.”
He flicked her a doubtful glance. “Looks to me like you could use a little help, Katherine. That barn needs some work, and your tack’s in bad shape.”
“I’ll get to it. I can’t afford to hire you.”
“I’ll do a pile of work for a chance at that mare,” he said bluntly.
She looked at him, lips pressed together, holding back the refusal it was her inclination to give. “She’s worth more than a week’s work,” she said finally.
He shrugged. “Set a price. Tell me what you want.”
“I’ll have to think about it.” She hesitated, wondering if she could abide letting the spirited mare go to this man. He was right, she acknowledged to herself. She’d made a favorite of the sleek filly, and now she’d pay the price.
“You’ll stay in the barn,” she said warningly. “I haven’t room in the house for you.”
“I expected as much.” It had been too much to hope that she’d offer Charlie’s bed. It sure had to be better than the cot he’d fought with all night long.
“She’s probably worth more than you’ll want to work out. I won’t give her up easy. I’ll want some hard cash to boot.”
“I don’t blame you. She’s a good-lookin’ horse.” He leaned back in the chair once more. “Do we have a deal?”
She pursed her mouth and glared at him, impotent in her need. “I’ll run you ragged for a month, and then we’ll have to settle on the money end,” she said finally.
“Agreed.” He held out a hand across the table and she reluctantly placed her palm against his.
“Agreed?” he repeated, prompting a reply, his fingers wrapped about hers.
She flushed, aware only of the warmth of his flesh and the strength of the hand she touched. Looking at him quickly, she nodded, tugging her fingers from his grasp.
“Yes…agreed.” She plunged her hand into the pocket of her apron, only too conscious of the triumphant gleam that lit his gaze.
The man’s a worker, Katherine acknowledged, a bit grudgingly but with inherent honesty. In just over two weeks, he’d been able to tighten up the barn, his hammer pounding audibly throughout several afternoons. Replacing boards, reinforcing the stalls, then coating the entire interior with whitewash, which he’d told her would reflect the light and brighten up the place.
He’d been right. And not only once. Telling her she needed to quit pampering
