Rancher And Protector. Judy Christenberry

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      “You expect me to cancel the contract and take a fifty thousand dollar loss? I’m afraid I’m not in the business of losing money, Ms. Wilson.”

      “No, of course not. But if you’ll give me one month, I believe I can return your money to you.”

      Before he could ask any questions, the waiter arrived with their lunch. He waited until the man walked away.

      “How do you think you’ll do that?”

      “Apparently my father neglected a lot of things on the ranch, including roundups. My manager says there are a couple hundred head of cattle in the foothills. If we round up those cows and take them to market, I’d have enough to pay you back.”

      “That’s all supposition, Ms. Wilson. I see no reason to give up the ranch based on such information.”

      “I understand that, Mr. Barton. But it’s only a month, and I’m willing to make it worth your while.”

      He was interested.

      “If I’m unable to make back the fifty grand,” she said, “then I’ll reduce the sale price of the ranch by an additional fifty.”

      “You realize you’re risking a hundred thousand dollars? On the possibility you’ll manage to raise fifty.”

      “I’m not an idiot, Mr. Barton. I know what I’m offering and keeping the family ranch is well worth the risk.”

      She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.

      “Eat your lunch and let me think,” he ordered, not bothering to coat his words with sweetness.

      She picked up her fork, but she didn’t actually eat anything. He figured she was one of those women who ate a few lettuce leaves and claimed to be full.

      His thoughts were interrupted when a woman stopped by the table to say hello. He recalled meeting the leggy redhead at one of the must-do business engagements he’d attended a few months ago. She effused and gushed all over him, batting her long lashes at him.

      After several minutes, when he didn’t ask her join them, she finally moved on.

      Across from him Rosemary sat stiffly in her chair. “I’m sorry to be interrupting your social life, Mr. Barton.”

      Jason stared at her with jaded eyes. She didn’t sound like she was sorry. And he wasn’t sorry, either. He wanted nothing to do with any of the socialites in Denver.

      “You weren’t.”

      “I should’ve thought to ask your wife to join us,” she said, no doubt trying to make him feel guilty.

      “Not necessary. This is a business lunch.” He didn’t bother to tell her he had no wife now. He certainly didn’t want her to think she could flirt her way out of the contract. Or, he suddenly thought, had she done that already?

      He felt a little guilty taking advantage of her by agreeing to her deal. But she’d made the offer. He hadn’t demanded it. He found it hard to believe that this woman could manage a roundup and recover cattle from the rough foothills of the Rockies. She didn’t look like she could even stay on a horse, much less find the cattle.

      Of course, she might try to fool him and sell cattle that had been counted in the contract. That thought had him changing his initial response. “I’ll agree to your offer on one condition.”

      “What?” she asked, hope lighting her face.

      “I and my ranch manager will accompany you on the roundup. After all, I need to make sure you don’t try to sell cattle I’ve already paid for.”

      The anger on her face surprised him. “How dare you accuse me of trying to cheat you!” She glared at him. Then, after rethinking her lesser position, she changed her mind. “Fine. I don’t care who comes. But if you try to sabotage our efforts or even try to slow us down, I promise I’ll sue you for all you’re worth.” She jumped up and hurried toward the door of the restaurant, then she must have thought of something else, because she whirled around. “Be at the ranch for the start of the roundup at 6:30 a.m. Monday. And if you’re late, too bad. We won’t be waiting for you.”

      He gave her a small smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

      When Rosemary reached the ranch that evening, she tried for an upbeat air, knowing Wes, her ranch manager, and Sara Beth, his wife and longtime housekeeper for her father, would be waiting.

      And she should be upbeat, she told herself. After all, Barton had agreed to her proposal.

      But the man was coming with them, she reminded herself. She didn’t look forward to having Jason Barton on the cattle drive. He made her…uncomfortable, and she’d need all her wits about her on the roundup.

      “What did he say?” Sara Beth asked as soon as Rosemary came through the door.

      Wes was standing there staring at her. She tried to smile, but she wasn’t very successful.

      “He—he agreed to my proposal.”

      “So why aren’t you happy?” Wes asked.

      “He insisted that he and his ranch manager come with us.”

      “That’s not an unreasonable request, Rosie.”

      “I know, but—but he makes me nervous. And he accused me of trying to cheat him!”

      “That’s only because he doesn’t know you, honey,” Sara Beth said, putting an arm around her. Sara Beth had been the closest thing to a mother for Rosemary since Linda Wilson had died ten years ago when Rosemary was fifteen. “He seemed real nice when he was here looking at the ranch. And he’s so handsome!”

      “I guess.” Rosemary had no intention of raving about Jason Barton’s appearance, even though the man was tall, broad-shouldered, with perfectly styled brown hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He was gorgeous, actually, and wealthy. But that didn’t make him right. She was determined not to let his looks sway her, in spite of the unfamiliar feelings he aroused in her.

      “So when did you tell him we’d start?” Wes asked.

      “Three days from now. He’s going to provide his own mounts and I told him not to be late. We’re not waiting for him!”

      “Now, Rosie, he’s doing us a favor. Let’s not make him an enemy.” Wes turned to his wife. “Is dinner ready? I’ve got a lot of work to do for us to be ready by Monday.”

      “Yes. I’ll just put it on the table. Are you ready to eat, Rosie?”

      “Yes, I’ll go change and then be back down.” She ran upstairs, eager to put on comfortable clothes. Back in Cheyenne, she’d had to dress well as a publicist, but she no longer had that job. Now she was a ranch owner, she needed to feel the part. In her well-worn jeans and boots, she was able to think like a rancher. At least, that was what she believed, and now more than ever she had to give herself every advantage, real or imagined.

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