Compromised Cowgirl (3 page)

“Yessir.”

“You hungry?”

Jessie shrugged. When she walked past Baldy’s Saloon around dinnertime on her way to see Ranger, the stench wafting out made her almost lose yesterday’s supper, the only meal she’d had recently. She startled when Charles put his hand on her shoulder.

The gentlemen in
Virginia
would never dare touch a woman with bare hands, and then only to dance. He wasn’t one of those dandies, and he wasn’t her brother. No one else had touched her for a long, long time. His warmth seeped into her, stirring a heat she wasn’t sure she understood, but enjoyed. The part between her legs tingled like it did when she touched herself there. She clenched her muscles, shifting in the saddle.

“Time to find some stew and biscuits. We’ll spend tonight with the herd, but if we can cut out all the steers for market tomorrow, we should be able to sleep at home. Welcome to the Double Diamond, Jessie.”

He squeezed her shoulder and released her. She nodded, biting her lip, and followed them downhill to the herd. Ranger nodded for them to eat, so they put their horses with the
remuda
. Sin and Henry’s legs were so long, Jessie had to trot to keep up as they walked toward the campfire. Sin was like a blond mountain. He was at least as big as The MacDougal in
Texas
. He seemed far kinder, though, and saw too much. She was sure he noticed her flush when Henry commented she looked skinny enough to be a girl as they took care of their horses. When she replied that she could make him into one with her knife real easy, Sin laughed. It sounded warm and welcoming. Did she feel this way because it was so long since she’d been accepted?

She got her plate filled with stew and inhaled the wonderful smell of home. She sat on a log, bracketed by Sin and Henry. She might look like a young boy, but the scent of these clean, hard-working men sent quivers between her thighs.

Except for the day of his daughter Louisa’s marriage, The MacDougal never let Jessie off the Texas ranch. She’d spent her life surrounded by men. Louisa was older and a spoiled princess. Sunbird, the Indian wife of The MacDougal, was a quiet shadow who spent her days working in and around the homestead. Until she left for
Virginia
, Jessie hadn’t spoken to anyone else in years. The men she’d seen since weren’t worth spit, and most of the women were worse.

Never had one of those overconfident men from the First Families of Virginia made her want to lean against them and inhale their strength. Likely because they didn’t have any. But she kept herself rigidly upright, eyes on her food. It was just a first impression, but she might ask Sin after her three weeks were up if he was interested in teaching her the ropes of bedsport. Henry might help, as well. Ace could go to hell. She wouldn’t have anything to do with the arrogant, insufferable lordling.

She took her first bite, mostly gravy to ease her stomach into the idea of food. She closed her eyes and moaned as it flowed over her taste buds. Sin shifted away from her as if disgusted with her manners.

“Who’s Ranger Elliott to you?” he asked.

He nudged her with his elbow when she didn’t answer. His touch made her jump. Caught swallowing, she coughed and wiped her mouth.

“After Ma and Pa died I lived with the MacDougals. The Rocking E is across the valley. I saw the Elliotts a lot.”

She ignored him and concentrated on the wonderful food for a while. Since she’d finished all her biscuits, she used her finger to wipe up the last of the gravy. The men did the same, so they couldn’t complain.

“First thing in the morning we split out the market steers,” said Henry. “Then we’ll separate the herds. Have you done that before?”

“Not much different than roundup,” she said. “You worried I’ll let them Elliotts take the best beef?”

“You don’t worry me at all, Jessie Bonham,” said Sin in a smooth, deep rumble.

He leaned close when he took her empty plate. His warm breath brushed her bare neck, raising a flash of heat that had nothing to do with the campfire. She pressed her knees together, startled at the throbbing need that erupted. She hugged her coat around her and watched Sin’s backside as he took the plates to the cook.

“I’ll be damned,” said Henry, staring after him. “Something’s got under his skin about you as well.” He shrugged. “You’d better stay clear of Sin as well as Ace.”

“I’m planning to.”

Chapter Three

Jessie had her bedroll and morning ablutions taken care of and a fire going long before the snores of the three men sleeping nearby changed into morning grumbles. They took shifts all night with the cattle, taking turns with the Elliotts. She was glad to get a quick visit with Patrick. Her youngest brother was now twenty-one and relieved to be out from under Finan MacDougal’s harsh hand. He swore to keep her identity a secret.

It was Bonham money that Ben used to buy and stock the Bitterroot Ranch.

Their mother, Louisa Bonham, eloped with Benjamin Elliott, a man far beneath her, and travelled west. Of course, she was immediately disinherited. Though her maiden sister was the last of a distinguished family, Jessamine Bonham had standards. Bonham money would go to the Elliotts only if they proved they were ladies and gentlemen.

To get her inheritance, Jessie had to complete two years at the Virginia Female Institute, behaving like a perfect lady the entire time. When Ben visited her and charmed Miss Jessamine Bonham, their mother’s maiden sister, she’d deemed him acceptable enough to receive a Bonham inheritance. As he was a lawyer, she gave him Ranger and Patrick’s share, which he used to buy the Bitterroot Ranch. Once Jessie finished these three weeks, she’d use her portion to buy a quarter of it. She’d work the ranch with Ben, Ranger, and Patrick for the rest of her life.

Her brothers protected her from Fin and Hugh, the oldest and nastiest of the MacDougal brothers, all her life. They accepted her as one of them, a cowboy. Ever since she left
Texas
, she imagined how the four of them would live together, working and profiting from their labors. It was wonderful to have Trace and his wife, Beth, along with the twins Simon and Jack, next door. With cousins Gillis, Ross, and Nevin MacDougal across the river, life would be near perfect. But none of them would know she was home until her three weeks were up. Ranger would make sure of that.

She checked the coffee. It was near boiling, and the iron fry pan on the coals was hot. The salt pork sizzled when she dropped it in the pan.

“That you making breakfast, Jessie?”

“Coffee’s ready,” she said in reply. She figured the voice belonged to Henry but wasn’t going to guess. It certainly wasn’t Sin’s low rumble. If they had to spend another night around the campfire, she’d sleep farther from him. Maybe that would stop her from dreaming about his hands on her skin.

Sin walked a fair way from camp before taking a leak, though Ace and Henry didn’t bother going too far. Heat crept up her cheeks when they unbuttoned and pulled out their cocks. She kept her face near the fire, using it as an excuse in case they noticed a red tinge. Growing up surrounded by men, she was used to that sort of thing, but it was different when she was related to them. For some reason, she wanted to see what these men had in their pants. Maybe English cocks were different from Western men’s. Curiosity, that was all it was.

Sin came over and nudged her shoulder with his knee. “Coffee,” he growled in a morning voice.

She glanced up then quickly put her eyes on her task when he yawned and scratched his naked chest. His blond curls let her see his nipples. Her heart thudded, hard. Maybe it was because the men in
Virginia
were always dressed from toes to neck. She wasn’t used to casual nakedness. The interest should fade in a day or two.

She wrapped a cloth around her hand and poured coffee into a tin mug. Since he didn’t move, she had to reach back to hand it to him. His eyes, half-closed as if not yet awake, flicked over her. A rush of heat hit, just like the previous night. He took the cup, nodded his thanks, and moved away. She fixed the same for Ace and Henry. By the time they finished their coffee, the salt pork was sizzling and beans bubbling.

“I could get used to this,” said Henry. “What else can you cook?”

“This isn’t cooking,” she scoffed, keeping her voice as deep as she could.

“Answer my partner’s question,” demanded Ace.

“Biscuits and gravy, stew, potpie.” She shrugged. “Anything on a campfire.”

“We’d better keep him,” said Henry to Ace. “I don’t mind cooking dinner and supper, but waking up to hot coffee and breakfast is a treat.”

“Ranger says the boy knows the land though it’s been a couple of years since he roped any cattle,” said Ace to his partners. “That true?” He speared her accusingly with his eyes.

“Yessir. Ain’t no longhorns in Virginee.”

Ace’s eyes were as cold as a
Charleston
matriarch when faced with the thought of their son marrying an upstart such as herself. Aunt Jessamine had the same look when she dirtied her dress in the garden. Maybe rich people were born knowing how to freeze servants with one look. She preferred to befriend them.

“I do not appreciate insolence. That attitude will bring punishment.”

“Yessir.”

Jessie gritted her teeth so she wouldn’t tell the arrogant Brit to go to the devil. Finan MacDougal, the man who’d ruled her life for the last ten years, knew where to hit so it hurt like hell, but though your arms and legs ached, you could still work hard. A couple times he took a switch to her bottom then ordered her into the saddle. Only once did he take the whip to her. Just thinking about it made her tense up. If Ace raised a hand to her, she would fight back, and to hell with Ranger’s plans.

“You’ve got three weeks to prove you can work. And that means taking orders without comment. All I want to hear from you, other than succinct answers to questions, is ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir.’ Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!” She said the words with a straight face while mentally saluting the pompous lordling. She wouldn’t be surprised if he stuck his hand in his coat between the buttons, just like the pictures she’d seen of Napoleon.

“Breakfast was a good start, but you’d better know how to work.”

She wanted to say, ‘I know a hell of a lot more than you, greenhorn,’ or ‘let’s just see how sore your butt is when the sun goes down, buster.’ Instead she packed up the things she’d used, leaving the pan upside down on the banked fire beside the coffeepot.

“Which is my horse?”

“You get what’s left,” said Ace.

She'd checked the Double D’s remuda out after she returned Ranger’s horse the night before. She figured Sin would have the tall bay gelding with the intelligent eyes, Ace the high-stepper eager to run and Henry the calm mare. She’d end up with the off-white, hip-shot piece of crowbait who didn’t look like it would wake up for its own funeral.

Twelve hours later Jessie stood on wobbly legs in the Double Diamond barn. They’d cut out the steers and moved them to the far east end. They’d fatten up until the weather started getting bad then they’d go to Bannack City for slaughter. The rest of the herd would be divided between the Bitterroot and the Double Diamond starting in the morning.

She lifted aching arms and hauled her saddle off. She rested it on her left hip, staggering a bit under the weight, then heaved it on the pole to dry. The horse she’d named “Trouble” turned out to be a good cutting horse, once she proved who was boss. It reached behind and pulled the blanket off its back with its teeth, dropping it on the straw-dusted floor.

“Dang it, Trouble, you’re just like Ranger. Have to get the last word.”

The horse nodded as if pleased with himself. Jessie slowly bent her sore back and picked the blanket up. She brushed off all the bits which might scratch his hide when she put it back on in the morning. She flipped it upside down on top of the saddle, then cleaned and hung up her tack.

Finally, she held the brush with cramped fingers and stroked Trouble from his ears on back. He watched her from the corners of his eyes, eager to grab her hat again. She saw him move and brought up her arm to block him. He nipped her above the elbow. She smacked his shoulder with her hat, more for show than anything.

“I told you I was the boss, so smarten up!”

He lifted his tail and deposited his answer.

Grumbling, she moved him forward so he wouldn’t step in it and finished brushing him. It had been a while since he’d been cared for. When she was done, the floor was speckled with white hair. She turned him into the corral, raked up the hair, and went for the pitchfork. Since she had it in hand anyway, she took the wheelbarrow through the barn and picked up the rest of the horse droppings. She corrected the tack that wasn’t hung properly and did her usual tidy inspection. Finan MacDougal did not tolerate waste, sloth or untidiness. Except in his precious youngest boy, Malcolm, of course. She put all the tools away and rolled out her shoulders.

“Got a cramp?”

She whirled around. Sin stood there, arms crossed and one eyebrow high. Blond hairs dusted his muscular forearms where he’d turned up his sleeves. She licked her lips and turned away.

“Nope.” It came out too high. She swallowed and breathed, forcing the tightness out of her voice.