was a muffled thud and then the tipsy man weaved toward the front door. “So sorry, Mrs. Monroe,” Mason drawled, sweeping off his hat and almost going down with it as he bowed. “Very sorry. I’ll be off, now.” He hesitated at the top step with one foot in the air. “Where’s my horse?” he asked blankly. “I left him out here somewhere.”
“I’ll send him to you. Go back to Craig’s ranch.”
“It’s two miles!” the cowboy wailed. “I’ll never make it!”
“Yes, you will. Get in the truck. And if you throw up in it, I’ll shoot you!” Cy promised.
The cowboy didn’t even question the threat. He tried to salute and almost fell down again. “Yes, sir, I’ll get…get right in the truck, yes, sir, right now!”
He weaved to the passenger side, opened the door and pulled himself in, slamming the door behind him.
“I’d sleep on the sofa,” Cy advised Lisa. “Until you can wash the sheets, at least.”
“His girlfriend must be nuts. No woman in her right mind would sleep with him,” she murmured darkly.
“I can see why. I’ll send a man over to the bunkhouse. And he won’t get drunk and wait for you in bed,” he added.
She chuckled. “That would be appreciated.” She hesitated. “Thanks for the ride home, Mr. Parks.”
He hesitated, his narrow green eyes appraising her. She’d taken her husband’s death pretty hard, and she had dark circles under those eyes. He hated leaving her alone. He had protective feelings for her that really disturbed him.
“I’ll want to meet that pup when I come back again.”
She managed a smile. “Okay.”
“Go in and lock the door,” he instructed.
She clutched her heating pad and her purse to her chest and glared at him, but he stared her down. Oh, well, she thought as she went inside, some men just didn’t know the meaning of diplomacy. She’d have to make allowances for that little character flaw.
He waited until she got inside and locked the door before he climbed into his truck. He wondered why she’d said Walt’s bed and not their bed. The question diverted him as he drove the intoxicated but quiet cow boy over to Luke Craig’s house and showed him to Luke. The blond rancher cursed roundly, having closed the door so that his new wife, Belinda, wouldn’t over hear.
“I’m very drunk,” the cowboy said with a lopsided grin, swaying on the porch.
“He was stripped to his shorts, waiting for Lisa in her bed,” Cy said, and he didn’t grin. “I don’t want this man sent over there again.”
“He won’t be. Good God, he’s hidden it well, hasn’t he?”
“I’m very drunk,” the cowboy repeated, and the grin widened.
“Shut up,” Cy told him. He turned back to Luke. “I’m sending one of my own men over to sleep in the bunkhouse. Can you handle him?”
“I’m veerrryy drunk,” the cowboy interjected.
“Shut up!” chorused the two men.
Belinda Jessup Craig opened the front door and peered out at the tableau. “He’s very drunk,” she pointed out, and wondered why they looked so belligerent. “You’d better bring him inside, Luke. We can sober him up in the kitchen. You can’t leave him stumbling around like that. I’ll phone the Master’s Inn and see if they’ve got room for him.” She glanced at Cy’s puzzled expression. “It’s a halfway house for alcoholics. They offer treatment and continued support.”
“She wants to save the world,” Luke muttered, but he grinned at her.
“And he wants to control it,” she shot back with a wink. “Care to come in for coffee, Mr. Parks?”
“No, thanks,” he replied. “I have to get home.”
“I’m sorry about the trouble,” Luke said.
“Your heart was in the right place. She’s special,” he added in spite of himself.
Luke smiled slowly. “Yes. She is.”
Cy cleared his throat. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Luke answered.
“Good night!” the cowboy echoed before Luke propelled him firmly into the house.
Chapter Two
Cy took his medicine and had the first good night’s sleep he’d enjoyed in days. He’d sent a capable, older cowboy over to Lisa’s ranch the night before to sleep in the bunkhouse and keep an eye on things. He’d also arranged covertly for sensitive listening equipment to be placed around her house, and for a man to monitor it full-time. He might be overly cautious, but he wasn’t taking chances with a pregnant woman. He knew Manuel Lopez’s thirst for revenge far too well. The drug lord had a nasty habit of targeting the families of people who opposed him. And Lopez might not know Lisa was pregnant. Cy wasn’t willing to risk leaving Lisa out there alone.
The next day he drove over to Lisa’s house and found her struggling with a cow in the barn, trying to pull a calf by hand. He couldn’t believe she was actually doing that!
He’d barely turned off the engine before he was out of the big sports utility vehicle and towering over her in the barn. She looked up with a grimace on her face when she realized what a temper he was in.
“Don’t you say a word, Cy Parks,” she told him at once, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “There’s nobody but me to do this, and the cow can’t wait until one of my part-timers comes in from the lower pasture. They’re dipping cattle…”
“So you’re trying to do a job that you aren’t half big enough to manage. Are you out of your mind?” he burst out. “You’re pregnant, for God’s sake!”
She was panting, sprawled between the cow’s legs. She glared up at him and blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “Listen, I can’t afford to lose the cow or the calf…”
“Get up!” he said harshly.
She glared at him.
For all his raging temper, he reached down and lifted her tenderly to her feet, putting her firmly to one side. He got down on one knee beside the cow and looked at the situation grimly. “Have you got a calf-pull?”
She ground her teeth together. “No. It broke and I didn’t know how to fix it.”
He said a few words under his breath and went out to his truck, using the radio to call for help. Fortunately one of his men was barely two minutes away. Harley, his foreman, came roaring up beside Cy’s truck, braked and jumped out with a length of rope.
“Good man, Harley,” Cy said as he looped the rope around the calf’s feet. “If we can’t get him out our selves, we can use
