Drew (The Cowboys) (6 page)

She felt her spirits soar, her body light enough to fly. She felt like a child again, when there were no limits and all things were possible.

As the horse made its circuit around the ring, she felt herself smiling as she looked at the faces around her, faces that reflected surprise, pleasure, even amusement. She noted in all of them an element of pride in her accomplishment, of shared community.

“Toss me a pistol,” she yelled. She felt invincible. She could do anything. Cole tossed her his. She caught it.

“We ought to try it that way sometime,” he called as she cantered past. “The crowd would love it.”

She wasn’t thinking about the crowd. She was thinking about the expression she’d seen on Cole’s face. He smiled at her as though he
liked
to see her do something he hadn’t expected her to do. There was no jealousy, no resentment. Maybe a little bit of pride.

She jerked her thoughts from his face. She was approaching the targets. She dropped to a half crouch, and fired three shots.

She hit all three targets, but only one bull’s-eye.

“Good,” Cole called out.

But one bull’s-eye out of three was terrible. She was used to perfection, and she wouldn’t settle for anything less. The targets were in a straight line, but her horse was running in a circle. Each target represented a different angle, with almost no time to readjust.

“Position the targets in a curve, to match the ring,” she called to Cole. By the time she’d circled around again, he had the first three targets repositioned. She fired her last three shots. Two bull’s-eyes, one off center. Not good enough.

“Toss me your pistol,” she called to Zeke. “I’ve got it figured out now.”

By the time she came around the circle again, Cole had arranged all six targets in a curve that exactly followed her horse’s path. She drew the pistol and fired at the six targets as she made her pass. She hit all dead center.

“Unbelievable!” Cole called. “I didn’t think you could do it.”

She hadn’t been entirely sure herself, but she wasn’t about to tell him. Nor would she tell him about the warmth that spread through her at his compliment, his obvious pride at what she’d accomplished. She couldn’t account for it. Jake and the boys had always been proud of her accomplishments. Isabelle had encouraged her in everything she’d tried. She was used to encouragement. She was used to people being pleased with her success.

Why should Cole be any different?

Probably because she’d expected him to want her to fail. She’d even suspected he might be hoping to get her job. She’d been wrong. He only wanted to find ways to make the act more exciting.

Damn! Her heartburn was back. Worse than ever this time. She didn’t know why he should have this effect on her. But if it kept up, she would have to find ways to avoid him. She didn’t like this peculiar feeling. When combined with the warm flush that spread to every part of her body, she felt quite unlike herself.

“I’m going around again,” she called out. “I want to make sure I’ve got it down.”

Zeke tossed her a new pistol. She put Cole and his smile out of her mind and focused her attention on the targets. She hit the bull’s-eye on all six.

“Did I hit the center of every one or just inside the circle?” she asked Cole. The trick had to be perfect, or she wouldn’t use it.

“Center on two, close on the others,” Cole said.

“That’s not good enough,” she called out. “Set up new targets, and I’ll try again.”

She ran the trick three more times.

“Perfect on all six,” Cole called after the last one. “I think you’re ready for tonight.”

“I want to see the targets.” She meant dead center, not close. She couldn’t be sure Cole would hold her to the same high standards she set for herself. The horse circled again. Zeke caught him and brought him to a halt. Drew sat down on the horse and slid off.

She landed in Cole’s arms.

The shock knocked the sense out of her. She couldn’t describe it any other way. Nothing else could account for the fact that not a single coherent thought remained in her head. He caught her easily, as if he’d done it before. He balanced her lightly against his chest, but that didn’t keep her from being acutely aware she was leaning against his body. Heat and tension passed between them like their clothes weren’t even there.

“Put me down,” she said, finally managing to find her tongue… and the indignation that should have boiled to the surface immediately.

“I can’t.”

“If you don’t, I’ll punch you in the nose so hard it’ll make your eyes water. I’m not in the habit of being manhandled by every passing drifter.”

“It’s not that,” he said. “I—”

She drew back her fist. “You’ve got exactly one second.”

He shrugged and set her down. She felt her stocking feet sink into warm, soft manure. Zeke burst out laughing as she looked up at Cole, a fire cone of fury rising up within her.

“I tried to warn you,” he said.

“You should have seen your face,” Zeke said, then went off on another gust of laughter.

“Here, I’ll carry you over to the stands, where you can sit down.”

“I can walk,” she said.

“I’d let him carry you,” Zeke said. “No telling what else you might step in.”

Drew had no intention of letting herself be carried anywhere, but Cole took the decision out of her hands. “If you’ll get me some water,” he said to Zeke, “I’ll see what I can do about washing her feet.”

Zeke went off chuckling while Drew found herself once again in a very strong, very unsettling, very
male
embrace.

“Do you always plop women down in manure so you can carry them off?” she asked. She couldn’t decide whether she would look sillier walking out of the ring in her soiled socks or being carried in Cole’s arms. By the time she’d made up her mind to walk and be damned with the mess, Cole was setting her down on the lowest seat in the stands set up for the throngs who would crowd into the arena in a few hours.

“I can’t recall doing anything like this before,” Cole said. He looked at her feet, sniffed, and wrinkled his nose. “I can’t say that I recommend it.”

“I should hope not.” She couldn’t recall when she’d heard a more foolish statement. “What are you doing?” He’d taken hold of her leg, rested it across his own.

“Taking your socks off,” he said.

“No you’re not.”

“They’re ruined.”

“I can see that.”

“They’ve got to come off.”

“I know that, but you’re not going to do it”

“Who is?”

“I am.”

“I wouldn’t advise it.”

There he went again, trying to seem as if he were doing her a favor when she knew he was doing just the opposite. “I don’t care what you advise,” she snapped. “They’re my socks, and I’m taking them off.”

She didn’t like the way he looked at her, as though he’d just told her something that was good for her, and he couldn’t help it if she insisted upon doing the wrong thing. An uneasy feeling circled around the edges of her outrage. She might think he was doing this just to be aggravating—she might even be
certain
of it—but ignoring him moments ago had gotten her into this mess.

“Why wouldn’t you advise it?” she asked.

“It would be improper.”

He looked like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He was up to something. “What would be improper about taking off my socks?”

“Maybe improper isn’t the right word.”

She thought so. He was bluffing.

“Maybe I should have said embarrassing.”

“Why should I be embarrassed?” She was losing patience with him.

“Well, you’re wearing a short skirt.”

“Of course I’m wearing a short skirt. Have you ever tried to stand up on a moving horse in a long skirt?”

“No, ma’am. I don’t recall ever having occasion to wear a long skirt. But if I had, I’m sure I wouldn’t have tried to ride a horse at that time.”

She was going to hit him. Just as soon as she got back on her feet.

“You can’t reach your sock without pulling your leg up under you,” he said. “If you do that, I think you might show more than you want.”

She hadn’t noticed that several of the cowboys had come to lean against a fence to watch her. She felt the heat in her cheeks as she thought of what they’d do if she raised her leg enough to be able to reach her socks. She felt anger, too.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Don’t lie to me, and don’t call me ma’am.”

“Well, it is a mite funny, if you see what I mean.”

“I don’t.” Now she was lying. “I mean, I can see why
you’d
think it was funny, but I don’t see how you can laugh and call yourself a gentleman.”

“I’m not laughing.”

She stared hard at him.

“Well, thinking about it,” Cole confessed, “but not doing it. Besides, nobody’s ever called me a gentleman. Which, on the whole, is kind of a relief. Being a drifter is a lot easier to live up to.”

“You don’t care if people consider you worthless?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t care, but not having people expect anything of you makes life a lot easier. Besides, I don’t think anybody ever said I was worthless. Well, not
completely
worthless.”

He was laughing at her. She couldn’t say exactly how she knew this. His expression seemed sincere enough, but she was absolutely certain. It made her furious. It also made her determined not to show she even suspected. She didn’t want him to think she cared a snap of her fingers for his opinion.

“I see Zeke coming with a wash pan of water,” Cole said. “You going to let me take those socks off?”

She started to say she’d wait for Zeke, but changed her mind. Zeke had finally come to accept his role in Jake’s family, but the wounds from his years of slavery were still close to the surface. She couldn’t ask him to kneel at her feet and remove her dirty socks.

“You let your fingers wander more than a quarter of an inch above the top of my socks, and I’ll notch both your ears,” she told him.

“You don’t have a gun.”

“I will tonight That ought to make my act real exciting.”

He grimaced, then grinned slyly. “Too exciting. You can set that water down right here,” he said to Zeke. “And don’t go off. I want you to watch, to make sure I don’t touch her leg. She’s threatened to shoot off my ears if my fingers stray so much as a quarter of an inch.”

Zeke flashed one of his rare grins. “It would take a shotgun to get me to leave. It’s not often anybody gets Drew at a disadvantage. Hawk’s going to be mad as hell he missed this.”

“You tell a soul, and I’ll notch your ears, too,” Drew said.

Zeke offered her his pistol. “Fire away, honey. This is too good to keep to myself.”

Chapter Four

Drew was furious at Zeke, the horse, herself, and the manure, but she was most angry at Cole Benton because of the look on his face. It could easily be called a cat-who-swallowed-the-canary look. He’d got her in a corner and she couldn’t do anything about it Well, she could, but not without making an even greater spectacle of herself. She promised herself she would remember this. Sooner or later she would get a chance to repay him.

“All right, Mr. Benton,” she said, “you may remove my socks. Just remember I won’t be unarmed tonight.”

“I’m not likely to forget that.”

He didn’t look the least bit intimidated. Generally men took her threats seriously. It seemed Cole Benton thought he was an exception. She would have to clear up that misunderstanding soon.

“I’ve been thinking about your boots,” Cole said as he rolled down the tops of her socks. “You shouldn’t wear them at all.”

He didn’t touch her skin, but sensations traveled through her cotton socks with the speed of lightning and the intensity of an electric shock. Her skin prickled at his feathery touch. His closeness suddenly seemed solid and tangible. She felt her body stiffen as though in preparation for a shock. Never had anything so trivial assumed such importance.

“I can’t go barefoot” She managed to retain enough control over her senses to make a coherent reply.

“I didn’t mean that.”

He rolled the sock under her heel and slipped it off her foot. A tiny shiver raced through her when his fingers brushed her instep. No man had ever touched her foot. Until this moment, anyone who’d tried would have been shot. She didn’t understand why she didn’t want to shoot Cole.

“You need shoes with soft soles,” he said.

She didn’t know where she could find shoes that would fit this description. She couldn’t think with his hands on her feet. She’d never known anything could be so disconcerting. She thought for a moment her heartburn had returned—it felt like it—but this was different It was a nervous feeling deep in her belly, something much more disturbing than heartburn.

Cole removed the second sock. Before she could draw a good breath, he placed the pan of water beneath her feet. “Put your feet in the water,” he said.