The Lone Rancher (4 page)

His eyes turned as cold as granite and his dark brows swooped down his forehead. A muscle ticked in his suntanned jaw. He looked quite intimidating, but Adrianna
refused to back down to him or anyone else in the state of Texas.

“First off, Boston, a woman overseeing a Texas ranch, especially one the size of this one, has disaster written all over it. Secondly, as long as I have a breath left in my body, 4C will never be sold off part or parcel!”

Clearly, she had hit an exposed nerve, though she had no idea how or why. But since
he
had hit a sensitive subject with her, she didn't give a flying fig what had upset him.

She fisted her hands on her hips and met his intense glare. “Then it seems we understand each other perfectly. You are going nowhere and neither am I. You stay on your side of the fence, Cahill, and I will stay on mine.”

“Fine, then, you upkeep your half of our shared fence and I'll repair my half. That's how it's done in Texas.”

“Then that's how I'll do it,” she snapped back.

“You've got yourself a deal, Boston. And don't come crying to me when you can't turn a profit with your Herefords or you discover your foreman is as incompetent as you are.”

On that ridiculing comment, he whipped around and stalked off to mount the striking bloodred bay gelding.

“And good riddance!” she called after him when he thundered off. She lurched toward the house, muttering under her breath. Adrianna vowed, there and then, to make this place prosper, if for no other reason than to assure that cocky cowboy that she was made of sturdy stuff.

He represented the opinions of narrow-minded men—and apparently there were as many in Texas
as there were in Boston, after all—who didn't think a woman could survive and thrive in a man's world. But someday Quin Cahill would apologize for dismissing her as incompetent, she promised herself fiercely.

On that defiant thought, Adrianna stomped into her run-down house and put her bottled anger to good use by setting her bedroom to rights…before she collapsed in exhaustion that night.

“A
ddie K.! I'm so glad to see you!” Rosalie Greer Burnett called out excitedly when Adrianna entered the fashionable boutique on Town Square. “I was afraid you'd be so busy settling in that you wouldn't be in town for a week.”

Adrianna gave her beloved cousin an affectionate hug, then surveyed the shop filled with racks of stylish gowns and hats that Rosa had designed herself. She had struck out on her own to follow her dream and she had a successful shop to show for it. Plus, Rosa had married the previous month and she looked so happy she was about to burst her seams.

“Was the house in better condition on the inside than the outside?” Rosa asked anxiously. “Are Butler, Elda and Bea satisfied here?”

“They are undertaking the challenge but the interior needs as much attention as the outside.”

“Do you need more help? I could—”

Adrianna flung up her hand, then shook her head.
A curlicued strand of hair tumbled from her hastily assembled coiffure and dangled by her cheek. She shoved it out of the way and said, “We are managing fine. You have your shop to tend and a husband to boot.” She frowned disapprovingly at her blond-haired cousin. “And by the way, I am none too happy that you couldn't wait to marry Lucas until the railroad tracks were completed so I could move here. You know I wanted to help with your wedding.”

“We, um, decided not to wait that long.” Rosa's lovely face turned pink. “I already waited twenty-six years to find the perfect man for me, after all.”

“I'm thrilled for you, Cuz, really I am. But I thought we'd made a pact to become spinsters together and let the male population of Eastern society go hang.” She wrinkled her nose distastefully. “I have only been here a few days but I'm not sure Western males are better than their counterparts. What was that nonsense you fed me about men in Texas being more tolerant and accepting of women who decide to enter careers usually filled by men?”

“It's true,” Rosa declared. “Texas is far more forgiving than New England. Men and women have to work hand in hand to run businesses and build homesteads and ranches. There is more Spanish influence here and women enjoy more rights than we did back East where English influence still reigns supreme.”

“Maybe you should tell that to Quin Cahill,” she grumbled sourly. “I don't think he knows it.”

Rosa blinked thick-lashed amethyst eyes. “Quin came to call? I haven't even told him we are cousins. I wonder how he knew.”

“He didn't. He doesn't,” she clarified. “The annoying rascal swaggered over to offer to buy the ranch. I would have shot the infuriating man for the insult of nicknaming me
Boston
and insisting a woman rancher was an inevitable disaster, or something to that effect. Lucky for him that I hadn't unpacked my pistol before he showed up.”

Rosa's jaw dropped open. “Quin said that?”

“Yes, so don't invite me to any activity you plan to host if his name is on the guest list. We have an understanding that we will take a wide berth.”

Adrianna strode over to survey the bolts of expensive fabric piled on the shelves. “I'm hoping you have time to design breeches and blouses to suit my needs. I intend to take an active part in running the ranch and I refuse to do it in a hampering dress.”

Rosa groaned. “Please tell me that you aren't reverting to your teenage persona of hellion and hoyden.”

Adrianna elevated her chin to a rebellious angle. “Those were the best years of my life. I was allowed to be myself.”

“I know, Cuz. I remember the freedom we both enjoyed at your country estate.” She smiled ruefully. “Things were much better when your parents, and mine, were indulgent and less concerned about introducing us into Boston society.”

Everything had changed when Rosa's father died shortly after Adrianna's mother passed. Rosa's mother married a decorated naval officer, Commander Hawthorne. They had sold their home in Boston, packed up Rosa and moved to Maryland. Adrianna's father had sent her off to boarding school, then bustled her into
high society, hoping to make a proper match that bore his stamp of approval.

Reuben McKnight had not been pleased that Adrianna rejected one proposal after another. But Adrianna, who discovered her so-called friends and acquaintances were jealous of her wealth and cared nothing about her, had refused to fit into that pretentious world.

“Luckily, Lucas doesn't complain when I straddle a saddle on his prize horses.” Rosa smiled in satisfaction. “For a man who was once known as a hard-bitten part-Comanche and ex–Texas Ranger, he dotes on me. Life doesn't get better, Addie K.”

“My life is improving by the day,” Adrianna insisted as she scooped up several bolts of sturdy-looking fabric. “I need five sets of breeches and shirts for chores and riding. In addition, I'd like you to make one of your most creative gowns and have it ready as soon as you can design it.”

Rosa frowned, befuddled. “I thought you planned to become the independent, free spirit Uncle Reuben stifled, in hopes of making you the most sought-after debutante in Boston. Why do you need a dress?”

“Because I intend to host the largest party Ca-Cross has ever seen, and for one night I need a stylish gown.”

“Ca-Cross?” Rosa's lips twitched and her jewel-like eyes twinkled in amusement. “You sound like Quin.”

Rosa could have chattered all day without saying that, Adrianna thought, disgruntled. She did not want to be compared to that opinionated rascal.

“Never mind him.” She flicked her wrist dismissively. “This town-wide celebration will honor your marriage to Lucas and it will be the talk of the county.
With Beatrice and Ezmerelda's organizing and cooking skills, we will have a grand time. Plus, I can become acquainted with the good citizens of Ca-Cross. After all, I will be doing business in town and I want to meet shop owners. Even the ones on the wrong side of the tracks.”

Rosa rolled her eyes, “Addie K., I have no qualms about you making a memorable splash in town, but there is no need to become notorious and outlandish. I, for one, prefer to keep a low profile.”

Adrianna noted the simple gold band that was nothing like the expensive jewels Rosa had been expected to wear in years past.

“The McKnight-Greer wealth has caused us both endless headaches,” Rosa said, then shrugged. “But I suppose we each have our own way of dealing with our demons.”

“Yes, we do,” she agreed. “We both know you can't trust a man's motives. Lucas excluded. He, of course, is perfect.”

“Indeed, he is. I can tell him anything and he won't betray me,” Rosa insisted. “But if you wish to be known as an eccentric heiress who wears breeches and rides astride in public—”

Adrianna flapped her arms to silence her cousin. “You just admitted
you
haven't outgrown your hoyden tendencies entirely,” she pointed out. “We sneaked out the two-story windows at the estate repeatedly for midnight rides on horses that our parents considered too spirited for dainty females.”

Rosa smiled dryly, but didn't refute the comment. “Be that as it may, do not drag me into this rebellion
of yours.” She strode off with an armload of fabric and Adrianna followed at her heels. “If Quin set you off with his blundering comments why don't you simply charm the breeches off him? It worked with the men who tried to manipulate you to the altar.”

“Cahill is a different breed and requires no finesse,” she replied. “I'll make him regret his feeble attempt to persuade me to sell out and return to Boston, where he claims I should have stayed in the first place. In fact, I might become his new neighbor from hell if he continues to aggravate me.”

Rosa tossed back her silver-blonde head and burst out laughing. “I'm so glad you're here to liven things up, Addie K. I've missed you terribly. Now I have Lucas, you and my thriving business. Life is good.”

Mine is getting better,
Adrianna thought to herself. She had spread her independent wings and she wouldn't be stifled, as she had the past seven years. Giving in to her wild, rebellious nature felt wonderful! And she was never going to reside in New England again. It wasn't where she belonged, despite what that infuriating Quin Cahill thought.

“Come meet Melanie Ford, my assistant,” Rosa said, dragging Adrianna from her pensive musings. “She has the same kind of magical hands with a sewing machine as Elda Quickel has with cooking. I've already told Mel all about you.”

“Thank you…I think.”

“It's all good,” Rosa insisted. “You can meet Mel and her husband, Cyril, who manages the stage station. He usually drops in to take Mel to lunch. Then you and I
can dine together since Lucas is working at the ranch all day.”

Adrianna frowned curiously. “You didn't mention where you and Lucas are living. In the apartment upstairs or at the ranch?”

“Both places, depending on our workload,” Rosa explained. “If you want to stay the night in our apartment while we are at the ranch, overseeing the construction of our new home, you are always welcome to use it.”

“Thank you. And, Rosa?”

“Yes?”

“I'm ever so glad to be here with you.”

Rosa grinned over her shoulder. “Me, too, Cuz. Texas is perfect for you. You'll see.”

Adrianna followed Rosa into the workroom to make her first official acquaintance in Ca-Cross. Meeting Quin didn't count because she didn't consider that aggravating rascal a potential friend. And just wait until he found out what she had in store for him.

Call her
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.