“Fine, thanks. What about you, Mr… er… you know, I don't know your name.” She smiled sweetly at him and this time he grinned. There was definitely some pepper to the girl. He had sensed that right at the first, when he had suggested Lady. He had seen the look of annoyance flare up in her eyes, but he hadn't given a damn what kind of horse she wanted. He was going to give her the quietest mount on the place. He didn't need some dizzy broad from New York breaking her ass on the north boundary that morning. That was all he needed, but so far she seemed to have managed all right. And he had to admit that it was hard to figure out what kind of rider she was on that lazy horse.

“My name's Tate Jordan.” He held out a hand, and once again she wasn't sure if he was mocking her or being sincere. “How are you enjoying your stay?”

“Terrific.” She smiled angelically at him. “Great weather. Superb horse. Wonderful people…” She faltered a moment and he raised an eyebrow.

“What? Nothing to say about the food?”

“I'll think of something.”

“I'm sure you will. I must say, I'm surprised you decided to ride today. You could have waited for a better day to start out.”

“Why should I? You didn't, did you?”

“No.” He looked at her almost derisively. “But that's hardly the same thing.”

“Volunteers always try harder, or didn't you know that, Mr. Jordan?”

“I guess I didn't. We haven't had too many around here. Have you been out here before?” He looked her over with interest for the first time, but it was curiosity, rather than any friendship he was intending to form.

“Yes, I have, but not in a long time.”

“Did Caroline let you ride with the men before too?”

“Not really… oh, once in a while… but it was more for fun.”

“And this time?” The questioning eyebrow raised again.

“I guess this is for fun too.” She smiled at him more genuinely this time. She could have told him it was therapy, but she wasn't about to disclose her secrets to him. On the spur of the moment she decided to thank him instead. “I do appreciate your letting me ride with you. I know it must be difficult having someone new around.” She wasn't going to apologize for being a woman. That would have been too much to bear. “I hope that eventually I might be of some use.”

“Maybe so.” He nodded at her then and moved on. He didn't speak to her again for the rest of the afternoon. They never found” the strays they had been concerned about, and by two o'clock in the afternoon they met up with one of the parties mending fences and joined them. Samantha was of only minimal use in what they were doing, and the truth of it was that by three o'clock she was so tired, she was ready to fall asleep, in the pouring rain, on the horse, and despite whatever conditions prevailed. By four she was looking truly miserable, and by five thirty when they went back, she was sure that once she got off the horse she would never move again. She had been on horseback and in the rain for eleven out of eleven and a half hours, and she thought that there was a distinct possibility that she might die that night. She could barely crawl off the horse when they got back to the barn, and only Josh's firm hands assisting her kept her from falling bowlegged and exhausted onto the. ground. She met his concerned look with an exhausted chuckle and gratefully took a firm hold of his supporting arm.

“I think maybe you overdid it today, Sam. Why didn't you go home early?”

“Are you kidding? I'd have died first. If Aunt Caro can do it, so can I…” And then she looked ruefully at her old buddy. “Or can I?”

“I hate to tell you this, babe, but she's been doing it for a lot longer than you have, and every day. You're going to hurt like the devil by tomorrow.”

“Never mind tomorrow! You should know what it feels like right now.” All of this was being conducted in whispers from just inside Rusty's stall. Rusty was already impervious to them, gorging himself on hay.

“Can you walk?”

“I'd better. I'm sure as hell not going to crawl out of here.”

“Want me to carry you?”

“I'd love it.” She grinned at him. “But what would they all say?” They both laughed at the thought of it, and then as Sam glanced up, suddenly her eyes took on a new sparkle. She had just noticed a name on a pretty little bronze plaque outside another stall. “Josh.” Suddenly her eyes didn't look as though she were in any kind of agony. “Is that Black Beauty?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He said it with an admiring grin, for her as much as for the Thoroughbred. “Want to see him?”

“I would take my last dying steps across a bed of nails to see him, Joshua. Take me to him.” He put an arm under hers to support her and helped her hobble across the barn to the other stall. All of the others had gone by then, and there were suddenly no other voices in the barn except theirs.

From the distance the stall appeared to be empty, but as Samantha approached it she saw him in the far corner and whistled softly as he walked slowly toward them and nuzzled her hand. He was the most beautiful horse she had ever seen in her entire lifetime, a masterpiece of black velvet with a white star on his forehead and two perfectly matched white socks on his front legs. His mane and his tail were the same perfect shiny raven-black as the rest of his body, and his eyes were large and gentle. His legs were incredibly graceful, and he was also the biggest horse Sam thought she had ever seen. “My God, Josh, he's incredible.”

“He's a beauty, ain't he?”

“Better than that, he's the best-looking horse I've ever seen.” Sam sounded awed. “How big is he?”

“Seventeen and a half hands, almost eighteen.” Josh said it with pride and pleasure and Samantha whistled softly in the big barn.

“What I'd give to ride that.”

“Think she'll let you? Mr. King doesn't even like her to ride him, you know. He's got a hell of a lot of spirit. Almost threw her a couple of times, and that ain't easy to do. I ain't seen a horse yet could throw Miss Caro.”

Samantha never took her eyes off the horse. “She said I could ride him, and I'll bet he doesn't try to throw me.”

“I wouldn't chance it, Miss Taylor.” The voice from directly behind her wasn't Josh's voice, it was another voice, a deep, smoky one that spoke softly, but without warmth. She turned slowly to see Tate Jordan and suddenly her eyes blazed.

“And why don't you think I should chance it? Do you think Rusty is more my style?” She was suddenly very angry as exhaustion, pain, and annoyance mingled almost beyond control.

“I don't know about that. But there's a world between these two horses, and Miss Caroline is probably the best woman rider I've ever seen. If she has trouble with Black Beauty, you can bet that you'd fare a lot worse.” He looked too sure of himself, and Josh looked suddenly uncomfortable at the exchange.

“Oh, really? How interesting, Mr. Jordan. I notice that you qualify Caroline as the ‘best woman rider’ you've ever seen. I take it you don't feel she compares with men?”

“It's a different kind of riding.”

“Not always. I'll bet you that I could handle this beast a lot better than you could.”

“What makes you think so?” His eyes flashed, but only for an instant.

“I've been riding Thoroughbreds for years.” She said it with the venom of sheer exhaustion, but Tate Jordan looked neither pleased nor amused.

“Some of us haven't had those advantages. We just do the best we can, with whatever we've got.” As he said it she felt her face flush; he touched his hat, nodded at her without looking at the ranch hand beside her, and then strode out of the barn.

For a moment there was silence, and then Josh watched her to see what was happening in her face. She tried to look nonchalant as she patted Black Beauty's muzzle, and then glanced over again at Josh. “Irritating son of a bitch, isn't he? Is he always like that?”

“Probably. Around women. His wife ran off and left him years ago. She ran off with the ranch owner's son, married him too. And he even adopted Tate's boy. I'll they was killed. His wife and the ranch owner's boy got themselves killed in a car wreck. Tate got his boy back, though the boy still don't use his name. I don't think Tate cares much what name the boy uses. He's crazy as hell about his son. But he don't never mention his wife. I think she left him with kind of a sour taste in his mouth about women. Except for-”Josh blushed furiously for a moment. “Except for… you know, easy women. I don't think he's never been involved with no one else. And hell, he says his boy's twenty-two, so you know how long that's been.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Do you know the boy?”

Josh shrugged and shook his head. “Nope. I know Tate got him a job around here last year, but he don't usually say much about himself, or the boy. He keeps pretty private. Most of the men do. But he goes to see him about once a week. He's over at the Bar Three.”

Another loner, Sam found herself thinking, wondering if cowboys were anything but. She was intrigued about something else about him. He showed a quick intelligence, and she found herself wondering briefly just who and what Tate Jordan was, as Josh shook his head with his familiar grin. “Don't let it worry you none, Sam. He don't mean no harm. It's just his way. Underneath all them porcupine quills he's gentle. You should see him with the kids on the ranch. He must have been a good father to his boy. And Tate's got an education too. Not that that makes much difference here. His dad was a rancher and sent him to some fine schools. Even went to college and got some kind of degree in something, but his old man died and they lost the ranch. I think that's when he went to work on the other ranch and his wife ran off then with his boss's son. I think it must have all done something to him. I don't think he wants much more than he got. For himself or his boy. He's just a ranch hand like the rest of us. But he's smart and he'll be a foreman someday. If not here, then he'll do it somewhere else. You can't deny what a man is. And ornery or not, he's a hell of a good man on a ranch.” Sam thought of what she'd just heard. She knew more than she really wanted to, thanks to Josh's loose tongue. “Ready to head back to the big house?” He looked warmly at the pretty young woman with the tired face and the damp clothing. “Can you make it?”