Winning The Cowboy's Heart. Karen Rock

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      “Go ahead.” James pressed the number five into the now-docile calf’s hip. Over the years, she and her brothers developed routines so ingrained they barely had to talk while performing them.

      She tented the loose skin underneath the calf’s shoulder and delivered the last vaccine. “There you go, Sunrise, no BVD for you,” she murmured, low, so James didn’t overhear her ritual of secretly naming the calves. No matter how long they had on this earth, every living thing deserved a name, to have an identity, to be someone, although it made sending them off to the fall beef auctions even harder.

      She grimaced. Jewel Cade, sentimental...no one would believe it. All her life, she’d acted tough, chasing after her father’s affection by trying to prove she was as good as his favored sons. That she could ride, shoot and brawl with the best of them. Yet he rarely paid her much mind except to complain she needed to wear dresses to Sunday services.

      When he’d passed away, she doubled down on proving herself in the male-dominated ranching world, even if she ruffled a few feathers and agitated the status quo to do it. Her thick skin hid her sensitive side, a weakness counter to her goal to be Cade Ranch’s range boss. She wanted to oversee cattle herding and husbandry, calling the shots the way she preferred, a job where she wouldn’t be overruled or overlooked. James had yet to delegate the position, and she intended to convince him this summer to choose her over her brother Justin.

      As for the Sunday dresses, she’d worn one to her father’s funeral, hoping he’d see her from above in a way he’d never noticed her on earth.

      Jewel ignored the painful throb of her heart and cranked down the release lever. Sunrise rushed headlong from the chute. The calf slowed when she spied the barn wall, swerved, then trotted into the final pen where the vaccinated animals awaited Jewel’s final checkup.

      “Good move in facing the exit to the barn.” James added more alcohol solution to the cooler holding the pokers.

      Jewel pressed her lips flat to hide her pleasure at James’s rare praise. He needed to see her as a capable professional, not a little sister chasing her big brother’s approval. “I didn’t want them running for the gate and getting injured like last year. It’s all part of the herd health, value-added market report I gave you last month.”

      James grunted, but otherwise didn’t answer as he checked the cooler’s temperature. For optimal freeze-branding, it had to be at minus 200 degrees.

      Jewel hid her disappointment and grabbed her records book. Her stubby pencil flew as she jotted down the vaccines’ lot numbers, treatment date and withdrawal period, her name as the one who administered them, and the vaccination method used.

      James retrieved a couple of iced teas from another cooler. When she set down her log book, he tossed her one. “The neck extender chute’s working out better, too. No bent needles or trapped fingers.”

      Jewel sipped her tea, then pressed the cool plastic mini jug against her steaming cheeks. Even her freckles would be burned tomorrow. “That’s why you need to make me range boss.”

      “Now’s not the time for that discussion.”

      “Then when is the time?” she demanded.

      Instead of answering, James gulped his drink. When he finished, he mopped his face with a red kerchief. “How come we’re not putting on nose flaps?” he asked, referring to the device used to wean calves.

      She blew out a frustrated breath at his change of subject. Fine...she’d give him a little more rope, but not enough so he slipped away without giving her answers. “Weaning them after branding is stressful.”

      “Corralling them again is more work for us,” he grumbled. “We should go back to separating them from their mothers.”

      Jewel bristled. “The most stressful part of weaning is losing social interaction. The calves were calmer when we started using nose flaps a couple of years ago.”

      James doffed his wide-brimmed rancher’s hat, scooped some ice from the cooler and dumped it over his head. “Should never have sent you to that conference. It gave you too many ideas.”

      “Nothing wrong with new ideas,” she charged. “The herd health program’s been worth about three to six dollars per hundredweight over the past eighteen months. We’ve had less morbidity and behavioral stress—something you’d know if you bothered reading my report.”

      “I’ll get to it. Next!” James called to Justin, and another calf barreled into the chute.

      Jewel bit her lip and got back to work, ignoring the sting of being dismissed again. She had to convince James and wouldn’t quit until she did.

      “How come you look so tired?” James pressed one of the frozen pokers into the calf’s side once it settled in the chute.

      Jewel injected the blackleg booster. “Got in late.” Her cheeks heated as she recalled tall, gorgeous, commanding Heath Loveland performing “Folsom Prison Blues.” When he sang, his powerful voice carried her with him. It drummed inside her, beating her heart, stirring her blood. It was like he was made of music.

      She concentrated on the calf’s next shot.

      “What were you doing?” James exchanged the first poker for the second.

      “Went out.” She gently pulled the needle from the calf’s skin. “Good job, MooShu,” she murmured near its ear.

      “Where?”

      “Silver Spurs.” She kept her voice even around the skittish animal, despite her rising irritation at nosy James. He had to know every detail about the ranch and those who lived on it.

      “Wasn’t Heath Loveland’s band playing last night?”

      Jewel’s hackles rose at the knowing sound in James’s voice. “I guess so.”

      James narrowed his eyes at her. “Interesting...”

      “What do you mean?” Her brothers loved tweaking her about her supposed crush on Heath Loveland, coming up with all kinds of crazy theories about her carrying a torch for him...when everyone knew she loved only three things in life: her enormous stallion, Bear; physically demanding ranch work; and her family.

      James stowed the last poker in the cooler. “I don’t mean anything. Much.”

      “I don’t like Heath Loveland.” She released the latch and the last calf of the day sprang away.

      A groan built in the back of her throat. Last night, Heath saw her as weak, in need of help. Why hadn’t she pushed back as hard as she would have battled her brothers?

       Because you don’t look at him like a brother...

      Her old mixed-up feelings returned for the boy who’d once witnessed her most shameful moment. When her father had ignored her 4-H booth’s blue-ribbon win, she’d cried. Heath, who’d had a display beside hers, had shielded her, preventing others from knowing she’d been hurt. She clenched her back teeth. Why was he always around when she was at her most vulnerable?

      Even if she might—might—have had any kind of softness for Heath, he was taken, about СКАЧАТЬ