The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,12
Boston, would he? Dismiss her as an ineffective ranch manager? Ha! He would rue the day he belittled her when she was hell-bent on making a fresh new start. She had yet to begin to put Quin Cahill in his place!
Quin was dead tired. He’d spent the past week riding the range, sorting out the calves he planned to take on the spring cattle drive to Dodge City. Although the railroad had finally reached Ca-Cross, the cattle buyers from Chicago meatpacking companies sent their agents to Dodge, so Dodge was where Quin headed each spring and fall.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he glanced down the rolling hill to see his house, bunkhouse, barns and sheds. As soon as he and his cowhands corralled the cattle he’d brought in for branding, he planned to soak in the bathtub for at least an hour. Maybe more. Then he planned to prop up his aching legs and catch a nap. After that, he’d amble down to the bunkhouse to see what the chuckwagon cook had stirred up for supper.
Once his men penned up the special group of calves that represented the 4C’s finest beef stock, Quin glanced around the area and frowned. “Where’s Rocky Rhodes?” he asked the men that had remained behind to tend daily ranch chores.
The cowboys glanced away and tried to look exceptionally busy. Unease trickled down Quin’s spine. “Damnation, is Rock hurt? Or did he receive word that his family in Missouri needed him?”
Quin always counted on Rock, his efficient foreman. Rock had a good rapport with the cowboys and he was an expert on cattle. Quin never worried when he left for a trail drive because Rock was in charge.
“Well? Where is he?” Quin demanded impatiently.
Skeeter Gregory, the leather-faced, wiry cowboy who was Rock’s right-hand man, glanced down at the toes of his boots, as if they suddenly demanded his absolute attention. He dragged in a breath, then said, “Rock ain’t here no more. He quit four days ago and he left me in charge.”
“He quit?” Quin roared in disbelief. “What the hell for?”
A strange silence descended on the group of cowboys. Even the bawling calves that had been weaned from their mamas piped down for a moment.
Skeeter squinted up at him. “He got a better job offer and he told me to tell you no hard feelings.”
“A better job?” Hell’s jingling bells! No one paid better wages than 4C. That’s how Quin had kept the top hands after his family of traitors had ridden off to make new lives for themselves and left him short-handed.
Quin bounded from the saddle and stalked up to Skeeter, who still seemed exceptionally fascinated with the scuffed toes of his high-heel boots. “What the hell is really going on?” Quin demanded sharply.
“You ain’t gonna like this, boss,” Skeeter mumbled.
“I already don’t like it. Where is Rock’s new job?”
Finally, Skeeter’s hazel-eyed gaze lifted to face Quin’s annoyed frown. “That pretty Miz McKnight came over to hire him to run her spread.”
“What!” Quin bellowed in outrage. Wasn’t it enough that he’d spent the past week seeing that feisty female creep into his dreams each time he bedded down on the hard ground? Damn it, he didn’t even like Boston McKnight all that much. Well, sure, she was strikingly attractive with that body built for sin, those thick-lashed green eyes, that shiny chestnut hair and lush mouth that all but begged to be kissed—if only to shut her up. Her defiant attitude rubbed Quin the wrong way. He liked his women soft-spoken and engaging.
That did not begin to describe Boston.
“She’ll pay dearly for this prank,” Quin muttered as he lurched around, then stormed off. When a thought shot through his mind, he stopped short, then wheeled back to his cowhands. “Anyone else planning to join the McKnight spread?”
“We weren’t asked,” Skeeter replied. “Just Rock.”
Growling under his breath, Quin made a beeline for the house to enjoy the long-awaited bath he’d promised himself. He breezed inside, greeted by the same silence that had met him for the past two years. His housekeeper, who only showed up three days a week, had taken a job in town so she wouldn’t have to travel to and from work each day. Quin hadn’t been home long enough to replace her. Now he was alone in the gigantic three-story house, thanks to his selfish siblings jumping ship after their parents’ tragic deaths.
Although his stomach was growling something fierce, Quin finished his bath, then dressed quickly. He stuffed his