Authors: Sara Petersen
A low groan rumbled in Mac’s throat. “Jo,” he exhaled hoarsely, unraveling himself from her arms and clutching her elbows. The jostling broke the spell of Jo’s contentedness, and she looked up at him with faraway eyes. “We need to go,” he said to her again, with more force this time, trying to persuade not only Jo, but himself as well. Jo nodded trance-like and let him lead her off the dance floor to the bench where Mattie and Kirby were patiently watching and waiting for them.
Mac released her hand and scooped sleepy Sam into his arms. “Thanks,” he said gruffly to Kirby, avoiding eye contact with any of them, especially Leif who was sprawled casually across the bench, shrewdly eyeing him. “We,” Mac said, meaning himself, Jo and Sam, “are going to head home.”
Kirby rose stiffly from the bench, pulling Mattie up next to him. “We’ll drop Charlie off at his father’s house and be right behind you.” The group parted ways, Mac and Jo walking across the street to the truck, Mattie and Kirby searching out their own car, and Leif heading to his horse to saddle up for his long ride home in the dark.
When Mac and Jo reached the truck, she climbed in the passenger side leaving the door open so Mac could deposit Sam into her outstretched arms. Sam cuddled into her chest and continued to doze, even when Mac started the noisy engine, and the truck began its bumpy journey home. Jo steadied Sam as best she could in her arms, trying to keep the jostling and jarring of the truck from waking him. She was still warm and sedate from the pleasure of Mac’s arms, and it wasn’t long before her own head slumped back onto the seat, following Sam into heavy sleep.
Yellow lights brightened the road as the wheels turned up the gravel lane to home. Mac looked across the seat at Jo and Sam. He was snuggled on her lap, his legs sprawled out on either side of her with his face scrunched on the embroidered flowers of her bodice. Jo’s arms were curled around Sam’s back and her head lolled back peacefully, with her red lips just kissing the crest of Sam’s forehead. Mac cursed angrily under his breath. Then tearing anguished eyes away from the tender scene, he pointed them fixedly toward the ranch.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The binder rattled along behind the tractor, cutting long golden stalks of ripe wheat with its sharp blade before gathering them into bundles. Leif was on the binder tying the bundles with string and then kicking them off for Jo and Charlie to stack in windrows. It was boiling hot today with no clouds in the blue Montana sky to block the blistering sun. If the weather kept up, the wheat bundles would be dry in record time. Yesterday the crew had begun the task of cutting and binding the wheat to prepare it for threshing early next week. Jo looked at the long windrows of wheat dotting the landscape and felt a sense of accomplishment. She still couldn’t work at the same pace as the men, but she had made a contribution that was respectable.
The outing to town a few weeks ago had been a well-timed boost before going into these long hot days of strenuous labor in the fields, preparing all the crops for harvest and winter storage. A part of Jo had hoped that after the beautiful day she and Mac had spent at the picnic together and the dance they had shared he would open up more. She had reconstructed the feel of his lips on her head a thousand times since that night wondering if she had only imagined the intimate caress. Since that night, Mac had been friendly, but not overly talkative. When they were around others, he had even resumed his witty flirtatious banter, but he was careful to never speak that way to her when they were alone. If it was just the two of them working side by side on a chore, he kept himself aloof. She, on the other hand, held nothing of herself back, displayed no inhibitions when it came to Mac. At times, the walls he put up exasperated her. Several times, he had even attempted to level her with his cold icy stare, but Jo had dismissed it, understanding his defensive tactics better now.
Growing weary of Mac’s guarded and distant demeanor, Jo tried to coax him out by adopting the coy looks and flirty faces she’d seen Krissy use to lure in men. Mac had only looked at her like she was daft and asked her if she’d gotten too much sun. Trounced, she’d formed a new plan, which again resulted in dismal fail, and the only thing she had to show for her first and last attempt at seduction was a fat lip and a bruised backside.
Early this morning when she heard Mac’s footsteps in the hall, she scampered out of bed, threw her clothes on quickly, and dashed downstairs to put her boots on. Her brilliant plan was to bump into Mac during a moment of seclusion and be as alluring as possible, and she figured the barn was as good a place as any for the ambush since the few previous times that he’d opened up to her had occurred when they were alone together. As Jo was lacing up her boots and heading for the kitchen door, it swung open at her, smacking her squarely in the mouth and knocking her backward into the table and promptly onto the kitchen floor.
“What the…?” Mac muttered from the other side of the door, hearing the noisy crashing and feeling the solid thud as the door connected with something. Brushing swiftly into the dark kitchen, he yanked the light on to find Jo stretched across the wide-planked wood floor, holding a hand across her mouth. He rushed to her side, crouching next to her on the floor. “I’m sorry, Jo. Are you hurt? Here,” he said, grabbing her by the elbow and forcefully pulling her to her feet. Mac righted the turned over chair with his boot, and shoved Jo unceremoniously into it. “Why in the world are you up this early?” he demanded, wetting a towel in the kitchen sink and forcing it over her bloodied lip.
Inept at lying on the spot, Jo spluttered out the truth. “I wanted to spend time alone with you.”
Dumbfounded, Mac gaped at her. “At five o’clock in the morning!” Jo shrugged her shoulders sheepishly, realizing that this had been a miserable idea and wishing that right now she were still curled up in her warm bed.
Mac was irked by her determined niggling at him, forcing a closeness between them that he was trying to thwart. Undeniably though, he was also slightly pleased that she wanted to spend time with him “alone,” as she’d put it. The ranch was at its busiest season between working the crops, fixing machinery, and tending cattle; Jo and Mac had moved around each other like passing shadows on a wall. By design Mac had purposefully avoided alone time with Jo, always making sure there was a third party in their company before riding out in the morning. After the picnic he had maintained an amiable yet cautious attitude toward Jo, feeling that he was standing on the edge of a precipice and one more moment alone with her would weaken the precarious ledge and send him falling.
He watched Jo pull the bloodied towel from her puffy lip. “I’m sorry, Jo. I had no idea you’d be coming out the door.”
“I know,” she mumbled around her swollen mouth. Then giving it all up for lost, she confessed with a shy grin. “I was going to be alluring.” The word came out sounding more like “awwuring.”
For the first time, Mac flushed a handsome deep red, flattered by her admission. Raising a cocky eyebrow, he leaned back attractively in his chair. “I see. So this…”—he pointed around the disorganized room and at her fat lip—“was all a plot to trap me? To get me alone with you?” His blue eyes sparkled with barely concealed amusement.
Jo blushed profusely, shocked by her own ridiculous scheme. “Yes,” she admitted, hanging her head in mock shame, “you’ve caught me.”
Mac laughed at her comical acting.
Slumping in the chair, she lifted beseeching eyes to him. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance fat lips are particularly enticing to you?” she inquired drolly.
The legs of Mac’s chair hit the wood floor with a solid thwack as he shot straight forward in his seat, his eyes turning serious. He pulled the cloth back from her mouth and stared at her swollen lower lip, then bringing his thumb up to the smooth skin, he gently rubbed it over the lump. She was so dear, sitting in the dim kitchen, staring up at him with enormous earnest eyes. Raising his own thirsty ones to hers, he whispered warmly, “Actually…I find them extremely enticing.” His eyes dropped to her lips.
Jo’s breath held as Mac moved closer to her, their eyes locked in understanding. Slowly, she leaned forward in her seat.
“What’s all the racket out here?” Kirby’s gristly voice hurtled around the kitchen, bouncing off pots and pans, and severing the intense moment between Mac and Jo.
Jo jumped back in her seat, startled by the intrusion, but Mac’s gaze never strayed from her face, intense and hungry like a mountain lion stalking its quarry. She worried for a moment that he might pursue his course regardless of Kirby’s interruption. Nervous, she quickly looked away, denying him the opportunity.
Releasing a heavy sigh, Mac scraped his chair back and strode toward the sink, rewetting Jo’s cloth before handing it back to her. “Jo was getting a jump start on the morning chores without my knowledge, and I bashed the door into her.”
Kirby eyed him skeptically in the glaring kitchen light, the blush on Jo’s cheeks not escaping his attention. Clambering stiffly around the table, Kirby poked at Jo’s lip with his gnarled hand, sealing the perfect end to her pitiful attempt at seduction.
Now Jo’s backside sported a large purple bruise, and her lip, although less puffy, still smarted, and she had nothing to show for it, except more unresolved longing for Mac.
Leif kicked another bundle of wheat off the binder, and Jo hurried to pick it up and place it in the stacks with the others. Not a day on the ranch passed without Jo feeling grateful for the gloves Mac had given her. Hours continued on in the same tedious fashion until finally the last row of wheat was cut, tied, and stacked, and the workers were gathered in the yard, enjoying a cool handful of icy water from the pump.
“So what next?” Jo asked Leif, curious about their plans for next week and who would be coming to help with the threshing.
“I think the boss’s plan is to wrangle up those bulls before the threshing crew arrives at the end of next week. I thought he said that Wagners would be over either tomorrow or the day after,” Leif explained.
“Is it going to be difficult? Herding just the bulls?” Jo questioned, taking a drink of cool water and letting a few drops run down her chin.
Kirby fielded her question, replying, “Well, they won’t like leaving the cows, and the black one is ornerier than the other, but we’ll manage.”
Jo wiped her wet hands on the front of her shirt to dry them. “I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m nervous about it.”
“You’d be a fool not to be,” Kirby chided crisply. “If you don’t respect the animal, you’ll end up gored or trampled.”
Jo pursed her lips and glared at him. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Nope,” Kirby chucked. “It’s supposed…to make you think. You and Charlie,” Kirby nodded to the young man, hinting for him to listen up, “neither of you have the know-how when it comes to herding those bulls, so you’re going to need good judgment, and good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.”
Pausing in midpump, Leif shook his head at Kirby’s rambling. A man could work up a sweat unraveling his words. He looked at Jo and Charlie to see if they were following along as poorly as he was. Ever so carefully, Jo reached up and nonchalantly tugged on her earlobe, causing a surprised Leif to chuckle out loud. Mac must have told her about their secret signal.
Kirby spun around to glare at him. “You think those bulls are a laughing matter?” he barked testily.
“No, sir, I don’t.” Leif grinned, placating Kirby’s cranky temper and resuming his pumping. Carefully avoiding any more eye contact with Jo that would get him into trouble.
A few minutes later, Mac rode into the yard, sweat-drenched and dusty from a day toiling behind the binder and chasing down cows. Swinging down from his horse, he strode to the pump and dipped his head under the cool water Leif was providing. Naughtily, Mac cupped a handful of water and flung it at an unprepared Charlie, who caught the splash directly in the face. Charlie wasn’t of the age or temperament to let a prank like that go unanswered, so quick as a flash he scooped up the water pail and charged at Mac, sloshing water over them both in the process.
Before Jo knew exactly what was happening, it was all-out war in the front yard. Leif was pumping as rapidly as he could, laughing and dodging attacks while providing pail after pail of ammunition to the water feud. At the first drop of water thrown, Kirby had hightailed it across the yard and up onto the porch to safety, calling to Mattie and Sam to come and view the frenzy. Mattie swept out the front door with Sam right behind her. He leapt off the porch in a ball of excitement and rushed into the fray, standing next to the pump and using his hands to splash the water Leif was pumping directly back into his face. Instead of ceasing the pumping, Leif continued in hilarity, threatening Sam to quit it but laughing amicably the entire time.
Mac and Charlie were tangled in a friendly wrestling match in the dirt, with Charlie pinned in an immobile knot between Mac’s concrete legs, when Mac shouted at Jo to bring him a pail of water while Charlie fought and struggled to break free from the skilled move. A wicked gleam lighting her eyes, Jo picked up the pail and placed it an arm’s length from Mac, so that if he wanted to reach it, he’d have to release his hold on Charlie to do so. Lightning-quick, he shoved Charlie away, and they both scrambled to the bucket, tripping and clawing over each other with effort. Charlie reached it first and was turning to throw it in Mac’s face, but at the last instant Mac knocked it up with his hand, causing it to rain down on Charlie, plastering his hair down flat and drenching his clothing.
Leif left his position at the pump and sprinted full speed toward Mac, tackling him forcefully and shouting at Charlie to grab a pail. Instead of listening to him, Charlie jumped back into the fray, and as a team he and Leif managed to secure one leg and one arm of Mac’s. Hollering with urgency for Sam to bring the pail and dump it on Mac, they grappled to maintain their powerful captive.
Despite the two-to-one attack, Mac was holding his own, pure competiveness and grit backing him in the scrap. Sam sloshed water all over himself as he sprinted on spindly legs over to Leif with the heavy pail swinging from side to side. Mac had kicked Charlie off his leg and was now soundly trouncing Leif, who was out-sized and out-stubborned by his older brother. Charlie grabbed the bucket and raised it over his head to soak the two of them. Out of the corner of his eye, Mac caught the movement, and sweeping one leg out, he cunningly knocked Charlie’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground with water spraying through the air.
In the meantime, Sam had charged back to the pump and was now carrying another full pail to the rowdy mass of men, scrapping, tussling, and rolling hilariously in the dirt. With Jo’s help he managed to lift the bucket and pour it directly onto the three men, who had momentarily forgotten that this was a water fight and not a brawl.
Jo tossed another bucketful over them for the sport of it and was about to dump a third when Mac surrendered, drenched and spluttering, “All right.” He waved his hands in the air, releasing his hold on Charlie’s head and untangling his legs from Leif. “I give,” he submitted.
Wiping hilarious tears from her eyes, she took pity on him and set the pail down.
The men, covered in dust and mud, climbed to their feet, still nudging each other playfully and threatening to destroy the fragile truce. Sam was laughing hysterically behind Jo, holding his stomach and bending over with riotous waves of giggles bubbling out of him. Jo turned her back and took a step toward him, when a hurricane of icy cold water flooded over her. With pools of water sheeting off of her head, her arms flailed out to the side in alarm.