“How you feelin' today, Samantha?”

She grinned ruefully at him and lowered her voice conspiratorially as she took over the empty chair. “It's a good thing we're riding today, Josh, that's all I can tell you.”

“How's that?”

“Cause I sure as hell couldn't walk. I just about crawled here from the big house.” Josh and the other two men chuckled and one of them praised her for her hard ride the day before.

“You sure are a damn fine rider, Samantha.” Not that she had had the opportunity to show them her stuff in the driving rain.

“I used to be. It's been a long time.”

“Don't make no difference,” Josh told her firmly. “You got a good seat, good hands, you got 'em for the rest of your life. You gonna ride Rusty again today, Sam?” He raised one eyebrow and she shrugged as she sipped her coffee.

“We'll see. I don't think so.” Josh only smiled. He knew that Sam wouldn't put up with an old nag like that for long. Sure as hell not after she saw Black Beauty. It would be a miracle if she wasn't riding him before long. “What did you think of the big boy?” He grinned with pleasure.

“Black Beauty?” Her eyes filled with a special light as she said his name. There was something about horsepeople and a Thoroughbred stallion. It was a kind of passion other people would never understand. Josh nodded and grinned. “He's the best piece of horseflesh I've ever seen.”

“Miss Caro going to let you ride him?” He couldn't resist asking.

“If I can talk her into it-and don't think I won't try!” Sam smiled back over her shoulder as she headed for the line waiting for breakfast. She returned five minutes later with a plate of sausages and fried eggs. Two of the men had moved to another table, and Josh was already squaring the hat on his head. “Going out early, Josh?”

“I told Tate I'd give him a hand in the barn before we ride out this morning.” He smiled at her, turned to call out to one of his friends, and then disappeared.

Twenty minutes later when Samantha went out to the barn to saddle up, she looked around hesitantly for Tate, not entirely sure how to broach the change of mounts with him. But on a day like this there was no way she was going to ride a nag like the one he'd assigned her. She was sure that if Navajo was Caroline's suggestion, he would be much more her style.

A couple of the men nodded to her as they walked past her. They seemed less annoyed by her presence than they had been the previous morning. She suspected that even though they had been expecting her they hadn't imagined her quite as she was. But she also knew that if nothing else would win them over, riding as hard and as long as they did in the driving rain would eventually win their hearts. And if she was going to spend the next three months on Caroline's ranch, acting like any other ranch hand, then it was important to her that the men come to accept her as one of them. Still she knew that one or two of the younger ones had been stunned by her looks and her youth, and she had caught one of them staring at her in fascination the evening before when she had pulled the rubber band out of her hair at the end of the long day and shook out her wet mane of silvery blond hair. She had smiled at him briefly and he had blushed furiously and turned away.

“Morning, Miss Taylor.” The firm voice broke into Sam's reverie, and when she looked up at Tate Jordan, she suddenly knew that however uncomfortable he may have made her, or wanted to, she was not willing to ride a bad horse all day in order to prove that he was in charge. There was something stubborn and determined just in the way he looked at her, and it set her back up just watching the way he moved his head. “Tired after yesterday?”

“Not really.” Not to him would she admit the aches and the pains. Tired? Of course not. Just to look at him one knew how powerful and important he thought he was. Assistant foreman on the Lord Ranch. Not bad, Mr. Assistant Foreman. And Sam knew it was possible that at sixty-three, Bill King might retire at any moment and leave Tate Jordan his oversize shoes to fill. Not that Jordan would fill them as impressively as Bill King had, or as intelligently or as kindly or as wisely… She didn't know why, but Tate Jordan annoyed the hell out of her, and there was an unspoken friction between them one could sense instantly as he brushed past. “Ahh… Mr. Jordan.” She suddenly felt an odd pleasure in putting a spoke in his wheels.

“Yes?” He turned to face her, holding a saddle perched on one shoulder.

“I thought I'd try a different ride.” Her eyes were cool as glass as his slowly began to blaze.

“What did you have in mind?” There was an undertone of challenge.

She was dying to say Black Beauty, but decided not to waste the irony of the suggestion on him. “Caroline thought that Navajo might do.”

He looked momentarily annoyed, but then nodded and turned away, muttering distractedly over his shoulder, “Go ahead.” The very words irritated Samantha. Why did she need his permission for what horse she rode? Reason provided a simple answer, but she still bristled at his style as she found Navajo's stall and his saddle and bridle in a little tack room just beyond it and went back to saddle up. He was a beautiful Appaloosa, mottled whipped-cream-and-chocolate face, rich brown flanks, and the characteristic white hindquarters with big brown spots. He was gentle as Samantha put the saddle on him and then strapped the girth beneath him, but it was also evident as she led him out of his stall that he had a great deal more spirit than Rusty. In fact she had to work to control him once she was astride, and he pranced for a full five minutes as she attempted to join the others beginning to move out. She had been assigned the same group as the previous day, and she saw Tate Jordan watching her with open disapproval as they rode toward the hills.

“Think you can manage him, Miss Taylor?” His voice was clear as a bell and Samantha suddenly felt a strong urge to hit him as he rode alongside her and observed the frisky maneuvers of her horse.

“I'll certainly try, Mr. Jordan.”

“I think we probably should have given you Lady.” Samantha said nothing at all in answer and moved on. Half an hour later they were all engrossed in what they were doing: looking for strays and once again checking fences. They found a sick heifer, which two of the men roped in order to lead back to one of the main cattle barns. And by the time they stopped for lunch, they had already put in six hours of work. They stopped in a clearing and tied the horses to the surrounding trees. The usual sandwiches and soup and coffee were handed around, and conversation was sparse but relaxed. No one said much to Samantha, but she was comfortable with them nonetheless and let her thoughts drift as she sat for a few moments with her eyes closed in the winter sun.

“You must be tired, Miss Taylor.” It was that voice again. She opened one eye.

“Not really. I was enjoying the sunshine. Does that bother you very much?”

“Not at all.” He smiled pleasantly. “How are you enjoying Navajo?”

“Very much.” She opened both eyes and smiled at him. And then she suddenly couldn't resist teasing him a little. “Not as much as I'd enjoy Black Beauty of course.” She smiled mischievously at him and it was hard to tell if she meant it or not.

“That, Miss Taylor”-he returned the smile to her like a rapid volley in tennis-“is a mistake I hope you never make.” He nodded wisely. “You'd get hurt. And that”-he smiled gently at her again-“would be a great shame. A stallion like that, there are damn few people who should ride him. Even Miss Lord herself has to be careful when she takes him out. He's a dangerous beast, and not…” He looked for the right words.”… not the kind of horse a ‘sometime rider’ ought to play with.” The green eyes looked infinitely patronizing as he gazed down at her with his steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

“Have you ridden him?” The question was blunt and her eyes didn't smile.

“Once.”

“How did you find him?”

“He's a beautiful animal. No doubt about that.” The green eyes smiled again. “He's quite a different ride than Navajo.” But there was an implication in his words that suggested that Navajo was all she could handle. “Looks like he gave you a little bit of a hard time when we started out.”

“And you thought I couldn't handle it?” She was almost amused.

“I was concerned. After all, if you get hurt, it's my responsibility, Miss Taylor.”

“Spoken like a true foreman, Mr. Jordan. But I don't really think Miss Lord would hold you responsible for what happens to me with a horse. She knows me too well.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I'm not used to riding horses like Rusty.”

“But you think you're up to a stallion like Black Beauty?” He knew that neither Caroline Lord nor Bill King would let her ride him. Hell, they'd only let him ride the exquisite Thoroughbred once.

Samantha nodded quietly. “Yes, I think I could ride him.”

He looked amused. “Do you? You're that sure of yourself, are you?”

“I just know how I ride. I ride hard. I take chances. I know what I'm doing, and I've been riding since I was five. That's been a while.”

“Every day?” There was a challenge again. “Ride much in New York, do you?”

“No, Mr. Jordan.” She smiled sweetly. “I don't.” But as she said it she vowed to ride Black Beauty as soon as Caroline would let her, because she wanted to, and because she wanted to show this arrogant cowboy that she could.

A moment later he strode back toward his men and gave them the signal. They mounted up and spent the rest of the afternoon checking the boundaries of the ranch. They found some more loose heifers at the outermost reaches and drove them home at sunset, when once again Samantha wondered if she would even be able to get off her horse. But Josh was waiting for her outside the barn when they got there, and he gave her a hand as she swung her leg over Navajo with a groan.