“Hell and be damned, you ornery piece of stew meat! Be still or you’ll end up in a pot.”

Amanda smothered her laughter. A pleasant glow of happiness had spread through her and had been there since Payton accepted the supper invitation. She didn’t dare serve him mutton though. Or the rhubarb pie she’d baked that morning. Smoked ham she’d gotten from Jeb Diggs would do and a jar of apples from the root cellar. Get him in a good frame of mind and maybe he’d share those secrets he’d mentioned. She wished to know everything about the man who braved ridicule, reprisal, and rhubarb to come to her rescue.

Payton’s arms ached as he dropped the bucket into the water well on Amanda’s property and hauled it up so they could wash. The day had held a lot of surprises. He never imagined that he’d find contentment and belonging here. In fact, he’d have told anyone that he most definitely abhorred the little beasts. He was a cowman. Still was, but he was beginning to see where there might be room for both sheep and longhorn.

Maybe it had a lot to do with a beautiful brown-eyed woman whose pliable curves and winsome smile had spoken to his heart.

“Don’t hog all the water, McCord.” Amanda jostled him aside, trying to reach around him.

He held the bucket over his head, daring her to come closer. “That’s some way to treat a hard-working man who slaved over your ornery flock. Besides, I’m a guest, remember? Mind your manners and I’ll think about it.”

The light from Amanda’s eyes shone past his empty days and nights all the way to the center of promise. “You’re right. It’s fair I let you wash first.”

“A lady of reason always sees the error of her ways.” He lowered the bucket.

But Amanda was quick. She dipped in her hand before he knew what she was doing and flung water into his face. Payton blinked and set the bucket down, calmly wiping the droplets that dripped from his mustache. She watched him carefully with a hand covering her mouth; probably to hide laughter was his guess.

“I didn’t mean to do that. I truly didn’t.”

“This is war, lady.” Payton dumped the entire bucket over her head, leaving her sputtering and gasping. “Now we’re even.”

“That wasn’t nice.”

“I know, but it sure was fun.” He hadn’t enjoyed himself this much for a long while. It might’ve been the first time since he grew up and became a man. Lord, it felt good. He wished he could bottle it up for when life wasn’t being so kind.

Payton brushed Amanda’s hair from her eyes, hoping she wasn’t mad. But the mischievous twinkle hadn’t faded. She evidently yearned for a moment of carefree foolery, a time when the weight of the world didn’t weigh her down. He reached for the towel she’d brought from the house and gently dabbed the parts he dared, trying to ignore the swell of her breasts clearly outlined by the plastered dress.

Amanda’s breathing stilled as if she were waiting for something. “McCord, you’re a wicked man.”

“I know.”

She leaned to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Showing me how wrong I was and for making me feel like a woman again. I’d forgotten how it nice it feels.”

By the time he left that evening, his stomach was full to bursting and so was his heart. Though his muscles protested, he had a most satisfying day. Yes, indeed.

He’d learned a lot about Miss Amanda Lemmons, who put on a good show of pretending not to care when she really did. The glistening moisture in her eyes, slight quiver of her lip, and hope hidden behind the rough texture of her voice gave her away.

And he’d learned some things about himself.

Surprisingly, he discovered shearing sheep wasn’t much different from branding cattle. He hadn’t minded working with the scrubby cotton balls. They were sure heavier than they looked. And they didn’t stink as bad as he thought either. Maybe his feelings for Amanda must’ve perfumed the air.

The feel of her breasts cozying up to him when he’d landed on top of her was something he could take extra helpings of-as many as she wanted to heap on his plate.

Her soft lips that kissed like an angel didn’t raise any argument either.

Amanda Lemmons excelled in almost everything. Her cooking left a little to be desired, but if someone tended the sheep so she could devote more time to the art, she’d take to it like a duck to water. He’d bet anything on it. He saw her expertise with the spinning wheel and a few bags of wool. Cooking had to be a snap compared to the difficult chores she did regularly.

Yes, he could visualize spending the rest of his days with Amanda. She was everything a man would be proud to claim. Now to get her defenses lowered until he convinced her of the fact.

The breeze suddenly died and a whiff of his clothes reached his nose. There’d be hell to pay from Amos, Bert, Joe, and the boys. He’d never live it down. But that wasn’t the worst part. If Mr. Sanborn found out how a self-respecting cowman shucked the cattle for sheep, Payton could lose his job.

Where would he go then? He was tired of looking for a place to light. Longings for permanence rumbled in his chest-a home all his own where he could live out his days in peace.

Old memories of what had been ripped from him nagged.

He’d stop by the horse trough and dip himself to get off some of the stink before he bedded down in the bunkhouse. That’d keep a lid on his secret until he could figure how to sweet talk Amanda.

Chapter 12

Payton struggled to keep his thoughts on his job the next day. He saw Amanda’s face in the short prairie grass, in the lazy clouds that drifted overhead, and strangely in the patterns ingrained in the longhorns’ hides.

She totally absorbed him. He couldn’t remember what his life was like before she entered it.

No one had said a word about where he’d been yesterday, although the boys did give him some curious stares. They might suspect, but if so they put a lid on any speculating. That they were capable of keeping their mouths shut surprised Payton.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” Amanda had asked.

“Can’t promise when, but I’ll be here,” he’d replied. “Might be late afternoon. Can’t say.”

Rounding up strays with some of the other range riders far out toward the property line, Payton straightened in the saddle and cast a casual glance toward Amanda’s property as he’d done a million times since breakfast.

An uncomfortable jolt traveled the length of him.

A wisp of smoke rose from where her house stood. A brief play of light on some object? Had to be either that or some dirt had blown in his eyes. He blinked but it didn’t go away. In fact, the smoke grew thicker.

Maybe she decided to burn some brush. But with the wind gusting this way? Even standing directly over the flame, deliberately lighting dry tinder would be foolhardy.

On her worst day no one would call Amanda anything but careful and smart. Alarm skittered up his spine. Trouble brewed in the air. Thick, black trouble.

Fire…Amanda’s place was ablaze.

Payton spurred Domino and raced toward it, vaguely aware of the shouts behind him. He didn’t waste precious seconds to explain. The valiant, sensitive, captivating woman who clung to the small section of land by her fingernails stood to lose everything. Just like him.

The closer he got the angrier and grayer the sky became. He didn’t dare think of her lying still and lifeless.

Lord, give Domino more strength to run.

He rode from the ravine near the adobe structure and saw flames leaping from the bales of hay in the corral. A quick glance located Amanda in front of her home with legs firmly planted. Fraser poised beside her, prepared to battle to the last drop of blood for his mistress. Amanda pointed the rifle in her hands at a group of undesirables-Payton counted four. He slowed up and slid to the ground, yanking his Winchester from the scabbard.

They hadn’t seen him yet, which fit into his plan.

No one had better hurt his beautiful lady. Payton guaranteed that. He gritted his teeth and sneaked forward.

“You can’t shoot us all, Miss Lemmons. Besides, there’s more left to take up the fight than you can get rid of,” one man shouted. “And we have the Association to back us up. What do you have but a bunch of scraggly mutton, a worthless hound, and a shack? We oughta put you out of your misery. It’d be the humane thing to do.”

If they did it’d be the last thing they’d remember before he blew them off the face of the earth.

Answering the threat, Fraser lunged, aiming to take a chunk out of the attacker’s leg. The man kicked at the dog, missing.

Amanda squeezed off a shot, barely missing the assailant’s toes. “You hurt my dog and I’ll send you back to town dragging a bloody stump.”

They might not believe her capable, but Payton knew she delivered no idle threat. The scrappy woman was tough as rawhide.

“Your mangy sheep are ruining land meant for cattle,” yelled another varmint. “We aim to take it back.”

“You won’t take back a God-blessed thing,” Amanda answered with steel in her voice. “This rifle will make sure of that. Who gives you the right to trespass onto the property of a law-abiding citizen and give me orders? I want a name.”

Payton crept behind the foursome. If one sneezed it’d be too bad. He’d gladly bury them at Boot Hill.

“We have a long list of people who want you gone by whatever means. Maybe we’ll just hafta kill you,” the ringleader sneered.

“Kill her and get ready to kill me, too.” Payton pumped a cartridge into the rifle with an abrupt up and down motion. The men whirled and Payton recognized them as skunk bait from the Amarillo Belle saloon. “You’ll discover you have a big job in doing either.”