the barn and came out carrying a bale in either hand, the limp much more pronounced, his jaw tight with the strain.
Show-off.
Not one to sit around while others worked, Reggie climbed down from the fence and almost stepped on a large dark creature. Her first instinct was wolf! She screamed and scrambled away. Her feet hit a patch of mud, slid right out from under her and she landed hard on her butt.
The animal stepped closer, its nose within biting distance of her face.
Reggie froze and then a long pink tongue stretched out and licked her chin, the dog whining its concern.
The ranch hand loped over to the fence and peered over the top to where she once again lay sprawled in the mud. “Are you all right?”
He started to climb over the fence, but she raised a hand. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting to be attacked.”
The man’s face split into a grin, his teeth shining white in the gloom. “Ranger is a highly trained purebred German shepherd and perhaps the most decorated dog in the US Army. He retired from active duty six months ago.”
“Well, hooray for Ranger. Can you call him off me?”
“Ranger, sit.” The man spoke softly and the dog responded immediately, squatting on his haunches.
Now that she knew it wasn’t a wolf, Reggie felt stupid. For the second time that day she picked herself up and tried to dust the mud from her jeans. Ah, who was she kidding? They’d have to be hosed down before going into the washer.
Feeling bad for her nonchalance about Ranger’s service, she reached out and scratched the dog behind his ears. In response, Ranger leaned against her leg and looked up at her with grateful eyes.
“Really tough, aren’t you?” she muttered, a sucker for soulful eyes and fur. She slipped through the fence. “That hay’s not getting itself out to the cows.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And stop calling me ‘ma’am’. I’m not that old.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She rolled her eyes. “What did you say your name was, cowboy?”
“Angus Ketchum.” He held out his hand. “And you are?”
“Reggie Davis. The owner of the Last Chance Ranch.”
In the darkness, she didn’t miss his eyes flaring. When she took his hand, an immediate spark rippled up her arm and down her body. She had to look up at him to see his face, now shadowed in the dusk.
“You’re the boss?” he asked.
“Yes. Me.” She frowned and let go of his hand. “What? You don’t think a woman can run a ranch on her own?”
“No, ma’am. I just thought the owner would be a man.”
“Well, he was. A very good man, but he died last year. Now I run the ranch until my son is old enough to handle it himself. Do you have a problem taking orders from a woman?”
“No, ma’am.” Angus held up his hand. “You’re the boss.”
“Damn right, I am.” She slipped between the rails of the fence and strode across to where her horse was nosing his way into the herd, vying for a taste of hay. Snagging his reins, she led him into the barn.
Angus had gotten ahead of her and was carrying two more bales to the door. He paused and waited for her to lead the horse inside. In that moment, Reggie got a really good look at the man.
Dark hair, darker eyes and a chiseled jaw with the hint of stubble shadowing his skin. He certainly was handsome, in a rugged way. He sported dark smudges beneath his eyes and fine lines at the corners.
Yeah, he was handsome, but then, handsome wasn’t always a good thing. She’d learned that most handsome men were too full of themselves to think of others. Angus would have to prove himself in other ways. Looks weren’t everything. Honesty, loyalty and hard work were much more important in Reggie’s books. It took a real man to make a cowboy, not just a cowboy hat.
She tied Jake’s reins to a post and stepped into the tack room for a currycomb and brush. When she returned, Angus was loosening the girth on her saddle.
“I can do this,” she said.
“I don’t mind. It’s my job.”
“I can take care of my own horse,” she insisted.
“Never said you couldn’t. You take care of the horse. I’ll take care of the saddle.” He hefted the saddle and blanket and carried it to the saddletree in the tack room.
Having fended for herself over the past year, Reggie wasn’t used to someone else taking charge. She tried to be ahead of CW as much as possible to spare him the additional work.
She couldn’t lie; it was nice to have someone else carry her saddle to the tack room. After a long day out in the cold air and rocky hills, she was ready for a shower and sleep.
She’d be glad when her brother returned from his trip to Denver. The ranch was a lot of work. When he was there, it took some of the burden off her shoulders. Too bad he wasn’t living there. Then again, she couldn’t expect Will to spend all his time on a ranch he’d never own. As a Realtor, he needed to continue to build his clientele so that he could increase his sales and income. He’d been spending a lot of time with one of the Realtors in the firm he worked for. He’d gone with her to Denver for a seminar. Reggie suspected Will was falling for the woman. She’d met her once and hadn’t really liked the woman, but then she might not have given her the benefit of the doubt.
Reggie brushed Jake from nose to tail, pausing to check his legs and hooves. The front leg had a long scrape on it, probably from when he’d reared.
Returning to the tack room, Reggie grabbed a tube of antiseptic cream, a clean rag and filled a bucket with fresh water. In a few short minutes she’d cleaned the scrape and applied the cream to the horse’s leg. Then she took the time to work the tangles out of his tail.
Angus was outside for longer than she would have expected. When he didn’t come back in for the last bale, she went looking for him.
As she stepped into the back doorway, he appeared, carrying what appeared to be a snake.
It rattled and Reggie jumped back.
Jake neighed and danced around, tugging at the reins tied to the post, his eyes rolling back in his head.
“What the hell?” Reggie demanded.
“Don’t worry, it’s not real. When I couldn’t find an injury on your horse, I checked the ground where you fell.” He turned it over and showed her the switch on the back that disengaged the rattling sound. “It makes the rattle noise when it senses movement.”
“It’s a toy?”
“Some toy.” He glanced at the horse. “Do you have a bag we can put this in? Your horse has had enough trauma for
