The Taming Of Tyler Kincaid. Sandra Marton

      Caitlin stood leaning against the railing of the small corral, watching Tyler and the horse and wishing she’d followed her instincts and fired him. But she’d called Jonas in New York, and Jonas had told her to let him stay on.

      “Man’s up to somethin’, Catie,” Jonas had said. “You keep him there till I get back. Just you watch yourself, you hear? Don’t turn your back.”

      She’d been careful not to do that. In fact, she’d made it a point to keep an eye on Kincaid. Just now, others were doing the same thing, including Abel, leaning on the rail beside her.

      “Man’s got good hands,” he said, and spat into the dust.

      “Yes,” she said, with an indifferent shrug. She didn’t want to think about those hands, about how they’d felt on her. “He seems to.” She cleared her throat. “I was wondering if you had any ideas about putting Lancelot to stud.”

      “Did you ask him what he’s doin’ here? Man like that ain’t no drifter.”

      “He’s here to talk with Jonas.”

      “And to shovel manure?” Abel snorted. “I don’t think so.”

      “Look, Abel, Tyler Kincaid isn’t our problem. He wanted a job, we gave him a job, and he’s doing it, isn’t he?”

      “Suppose he is. But he asks a lot of questions.”

      “Questions?” Caitlin looked at the foreman. “About what?”

      Abel lifted his shoulders. “This, that. Everythin’. Asked Carmen to tell him about herself, her kids. Asked a couple of the older men if they’d been workin’ here long, what they knew of the old days, how it was on Espada then.”

      Caitlin smiled despite herself. “Dangerous questions, huh? I mean, a man’s definitely up to no good if he wants to talk about the old days, or if he takes the time to ask Carmen about her son and daughter.”

      “Just figured I’d let you know what’s going’ on, Ms. Caitlin. Everythin’ ain’t always what it seems.”

      “I appreciate that,” she said gently. She looked at Tyler, watched the mare come forward daintily to sniff at the hand he held out to her. “He’s probably just a cowboy that’s got some get-rich-quick scheme he’s dying to tell Jonas about.” She smiled. “And we both know how Jonas will deal with that.”

      The foreman chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. Tyler Kincaid’ll be out of here so fast it’ll make his head spin.”

      Caitlin turned back to the corral as Abel sauntered away. She stepped up on the bottom rail and watched Tyler’s performance.

      That was what it was, all right. A performance, but she had to admit, it was enjoyable. Tyler had a gentle touch, strong hands and a sense of authority. The mare was responding to all of it.

      Just as she had.

      The thought made her uneasy, and she forced it from her head.

      The sun had climbed higher; it was a blazing fist of yellow, punching through the blue sky. Tyler had left his shirt on and it was soaked through. Caitlin could see the muscles move and bunch beneath the wet fabric. Her face heated; she looked sideways at the men lining the fence but all their attention was on the man and the horse. Some of the men called out good-natured words of advice.

      Tyler looked at them, smiled, even grinned—but he never once looked at her.

      It annoyed her, though she knew it was silly. Why should he look at her? Still, it ticked her off. A while ago, she’d accused him of being arrogant because of the way he’d spoken to her. Now, she was thinking of him as arrogant because he refused to acknowledge her presence. She was being an idiot…except, dammit, he was being arrogant. She knew it. Did he think it was a turn-on? Caitlin thumbed her hair behind her ears. Not for her, it wasn’t. She’d grown up watching her mother succumb to a seemingly endless succession of men whose egos were bigger than their IQs. Even Jonas, who was as smart as a whip, thought he could strut through life with only his arrogance to guide him.

      If Tyler Kincaid thought the same thing, he was in for a nasty surprise.

      Eventually the mare was trembling with exhaustion. Tyler rubbed her ears, whispered to her, then jerked his head toward Manuel, who was watching with the others.

      “She’s had enough for today,” he told the boy. “Take her inside. Give her a good rubdown and some of those special oats she’s so fond of.”

      Caitlin waited for Manuel to point out that Tyler could take the mare inside himself, that he was nobody to give orders, but the boy nodded and did as he’d been told. The same thing had happened when Tyler began working with the mare. One of the older men had been standing around, smoking. Tyler had asked him to get the mare’s tack and Pete hadn’t hesitated, even though he was as independent in spirit as most cowboys.

      There was an art to giving men like this orders, and some basic rules.

      Rule number one was that one ranch hand didn’t give an order to another but the men seemed to have forgotten that. Tyler asked a man to do something, the man did it. It was as simple as that.