Texas Rebels: Paxton. Linda Warren

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       Chapter Four

      When Paxton crossed the cattle guard with the trailer clanging behind him, first thing he noticed was Remi standing at the edge of the corral. She seemed to be holding on to it, huddled in a blue coat with the hood over her head. Much as the first time he’d seen her. Her dog was at her feet.

      In the distance near a pond he could see Miss Bertie with a stick in her hand trying to shoo a red-and-white-faced cow with a baby calf toward the pen, but she wasn’t having any luck.

      He parked the truck and got out. Remi came toward him, holding on to the dog’s collar. It hit him for the first time that she used the dog for balance.

      “Could you please help my grandmother? The cow is going to hurt her and she won’t listen to me. She’s so stubborn.”

      He tipped his hat. “It must be genetic.”

      “What do you mean by that?” Her eyes narrowed.

      He unlatched the trailer gate with more force than necessary and then pulled the ramp down so he could unload Romeo. A few years ago Falcon had bought several young geldings and Egan and Jude had broken them. They both had a soft voice that animals reacted to. Paxton liked the chestnut-colored horse with a white blaze on his face and had asked to keep it. Phoenix had named it Romeo and it had stuck. He had turned out to be a great quarter horse.

      Paxton placed his boot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. Mostly, he was avoiding answering her question. “Whatever you want it to mean,” he replied, and rode toward Miss Bertie.

      * * *

      “HOW RUDE.” REMI watched him ride away and had the urge to throw something at his straight back. But her temper soon cooled as she continued to watch him. He had to be the most handsome cowboy she’d ever seen. The most handsome man, too. He was rugged, strong and charismatic in a way she couldn’t explain because most of the time she just wanted to smack him. Maybe because he reminded her of things she’d forgotten—the touch of a man, the feel of a man’s hands on her body and a masculine scent that took her away to a beautiful place. It had all been snatched from her and she would never...

      She shook her head. What was she doing? She couldn’t go back so she had to go forward. But just looking at Mr. Paxton Rebel made her aware that she was still very much alive.

      He rode up to her grandmother and they were talking, but it seemed more like they were arguing. Her grandmother waved the stick at him and then stomped to the corral with Memphis on her heels. Remi’s eyes were glued to the cowboy and she wondered what he’d do to get the cow in the pen.

      He removed a rope from the saddle horn and made a large loop. Swinging it above his head, he rode toward the cow, yelling, “Hi ya! Hi ya!”

      The cow threw up her head, refusing to budge. He popped her with the rope and she spun in a circle and tried to charge him, but once again he stung her with the rope. The cow licked the calf and slowly started walking toward the corral. Halfway there she turned and tried to charge the horse, but the cowboy used the rope to guide the cow toward the open gate that Gran was holding.

      Once the cow and calf were inside, Gran closed the gate, and the cowboy dismounted and jumped across the fence as if it was no more than a twig.

      Gran shook the stick at him. “Let me tell you something, sonny boy, no man tells me what to do.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, but Gran didn’t seem to notice. She was intent on doing things her way.

      “Good. Now let’s take care of this cow. Remi, open the chute.”

      What! To do that she would have to climb over the fence and she knew she couldn’t. What did she do?

      She looked up and stared into the cowboy’s dark caramel eyes and saw his concern for her.

      “I got it. I’m closer.” He marched over and opened the chute, inches away from her.

      “Thank you,” she breathed hoarsely.

      “Aw. The lady knows the words.” The corners of his mouth turned into a smile and it was lethal to her emotional state. Her heart raced and her hands were clammy. Suddenly, she was hot. She pushed the hood from her head and unbuttoned her coat. She’d never had this experience before and she rather liked it. Only for a moment. She couldn’t be attracted to Paxton Rebel.

      “Are you gonna help me or what?” Gran shouted.

      In minutes they had the cow in the chute, and Paxton shoved the little calf in butt-first so he was facing the udder. It was swollen and the teats stuck out filled with milk.

      Gran had a stool and a bucket and began to milk the cow. It sounded like rain on a tin roof. Paxton slid into the chute with the calf. Once the teats were smaller Paxton pushed the calf’s face toward the udder. The little thing searched for food, but still wasn’t latching on.

      Paxton looked at her. “Reach in and pull a teat toward his mouth.”

      “Huh. Okay.” She reached into the space between the boards and found a teat. It felt like a tight rubber glove filled with water.

      “Squeeze it into his mouth,” Paxton said.

      “I don’t know how to milk.”

      “Just squeeze it.”

      She did and milk squirted onto the calf’s face and he stuck his tongue out. She squeezed it again, and he caught the teat and began to suck.

      “He’s sucking!” she shouted, excited. The calf was in full control so she let go and stroked his head and back. “He’s so cute. His red hair even has a curl to it. I think I’ll call him Curly.”