keep from getting spurred. She didn’t want another aggressive one.
“Oh, he’s gentle as a lamb,” the former owner assured her. “Great bloodlines, good breeder, you’ll get along just fine with him!”
Sure, she thought when she put him in the chicken yard and his first act was to jump on her foreman, old Ben Harrison, when he started to gather eggs.
“Better get rid of him now,” Ben had warned as she doctored the cuts on his arms the rooster had made even through the fabric.
“He’ll settle down, he’s just excited about being in a new place,” Maddie assured him.
Looking back at that conversation now, she laughed. Ben had been right. She should have sent the rooster back to the vendor in a shoebox. But she’d gotten attached to the feathered assassin. Sadly, Cort Brannt hadn’t.
Cort Matthew Brannt was every woman’s dream of the perfect man. He was tall, muscular without making it obvious, cultured, and he could play a guitar like a professional. He had jet-black hair with a slight wave, large dark brown eyes and a sensuous mouth that Maddie often dreamed of kissing.
The problem was that Cort was in love with their other neighbor, Odalie Everett. Odalie was the daughter of big-time rancher Cole Everett and his wife, Heather, who was a former singer and songwriter. She had two brothers, John and Tanner. John still lived at home, but Tanner lived in Europe. Nobody talked about him.
Odalie loved grand opera. She had her mother’s clear, beautiful voice and she wanted to be a professional soprano. That meant specialized training.
Cort wanted to marry Odalie, who couldn’t see him for dust. She’d gone off to Italy to study with some famous voice trainer. Cort was distraught and it didn’t help that Maddie’s rooster kept showing up in his yard and attacking him without warning.
“I can’t understand why he wants to go all the way over there to attack Cort,” Maddie said aloud. “I mean, we’ve got cowboys here!”
“Cort threw a rake at him the last time he came over here to look at one of your yearling bulls,” Sadie reminded her.
“I throw things at him all the time,” Maddie pointed out.
“Yes, but Cort chased him around the yard, picked him up by his feet, and carried him out to the hen yard to show him to the hens. Hurt his pride,” Sadie continued. “He’s getting even.”
“You think so?”
“Roosters are unpredictable. That particular one,” she added with a bite in her voice that was very out of character, “should have been chicken soup!”
“Great-Aunt Sadie!”
“Just telling you the way it is,” Sadie huffed. “My brother—your granddaddy—would have killed him the first time he spurred you.”
Maddie smiled. “I guess he would. I don’t like killing things. Not even mean roosters.”
“Cort would kill him for you if he could shoot straight,” Sadie said with veiled contempt. “You load that .28 gauge shotgun in the closet for me, and I’ll do it.”
“Great-Aunt Sadie!”
She made a face. “Stupid thing. I wanted to pet the hens and he ran me all the way into the house. Pitiful, when a chicken can terrorize a whole ranch. You go ask Ben how he feels about that red rooster. I dare you. If you’d let him, he’d run a truck over it!”
Maddie sighed. “I guess Pumpkin is a terror. Well, maybe Cort will deal with him once and for all and I can go get us a nice rooster.”
“In my experience, no such thing,” the older woman said. “And about Cort dealing with him...” She nodded toward the highway.
Maddie grimaced. A big black ranch truck turned off the highway and came careening down the road toward the house. It was obviously being driven by a maniac.
The truck screeched to a stop at the front porch, sending chickens running for cover in the hen yard because of the noise.
“Great,” Maddie muttered. “Now they’ll stop laying for two days because he’s terrified them!”
“Better worry about yourself,” Great-Aunt Sadie said. “Hello, Cort! Nice to see you,” she added with a wave and ran back into the house, almost at a run.
Maddie bit off what she was going to say about traitors. She braced herself as a tall, lean, furious cowboy in jeans, boots, a chambray shirt and a black Stetson cocked over one eye came straight toward her. She knew what the set of that hat meant. He was out for blood.
“I’m sorry!” she said at once, raising her hands, palms out. “I’ll do something about him, I promise!”
“Andy landed in a cow patty,” he raged in his deep voice. “That’s nothing compared to what happened to the others while we were chasing him. I went headfirst into the dipping tray!”
She wouldn’t laugh, she wouldn’t laugh, she wouldn’t...
“Oh, hell, stop that!” he raged while she bent over double at the mental image of big, handsome Cort lying facedown in the stinky stuff they dipped cattle in to prevent disease.
“I’m sorry. Really!” She forced herself to stop laughing. She wiped her wet eyes and tried to look serious. “Go ahead, keep yelling at me. Really. It’s okay.”
“Your stupid rooster is going to feed my ranch hands if you don’t keep him at home!” he said angrily.
“Oh, my, chance would be a fine thing, wouldn’t it?” she asked wistfully. “I mean, I guess I could hire an off-duty army unit to come out here and spend the next week trying to run him down.” She gave him a droll look. “If you and your men can’t catch him, how do you expect me to catch him?”
“I caught him the first day he was here,” he reminded her.
“Yes, but that was three months ago,” she pointed out. “And he’d just arrived. Now he’s learned evasion techniques.” She frowned. “I wonder if they’ve ever thought of using roosters as attack animals for the military? I should suggest it to someone.”
“I’d suggest you find some way to keep him at home before I resort to the courts.”
“You’d sue me over a chicken?” she exclaimed. “Wow, what a headline that would be. Rich, Successful Rancher Sues Starving, Female Small-Rancher for Rooster Attack. Wouldn’t your dad love reading that headline in the local paper?” she asked with a bland smile.
His expression was growing so hard that his high cheekbones stood out. “One more flying red feather attack and I’ll risk it. I’m not kidding.”
“Oh, me, neither.” She crossed her heart. “I’ll have the vet prescribe some tranquilizers for Pumpkin to calm him down,” she said facetiously. She frowned. “Ever thought about asking your family doctor for some? You look very stressed.”
“I’m stressed because your damned rooster keeps attacking me! On my own damned ranch!” he raged.
“Well,
