Page 28 of Snow Kisses

His hands tautened like steel around her upper arms and his face seemed to harden even as she watched. “Don’t say things like that to me,” he said unsteadily. “You don’t realize the effect it has, and I’m already late for the airport.”

She looked down at his broad chest. “Sorry. Will you be gone long?”

His hands contracted and then released her. “A couple days. I can’t spare them, but I don’t want the man tochange his mind about that feedlot. The corporation needs it.”

She nodded, glancing up at his set features. “I’ll do my best not to foul up your bookkeeping while you’re gone.”

“Melly won’t let you,” he replied. He took a long breath and moved back to the suitcase, swinging it up easily. “Besides, all the bookkeeping we do here is payroll, and you’ll be doing cattle records, not that. Take care, honey.”

“You, too,” she said softly, missing him already. He would take the color away when he left. It had been that way all her adult life.

Hank was blowing the horn again, and Cade shook his head. “He’s afraid the plane will leave me behind,” he said amusedly. “I chewed him out this morning for forgetting to put in a supply order. He feels safer when I’m a state or two away.”

“Don’t they all,” she murmured with a wicked grin.

He tilted the Stetson low over his eyes. “Bye. Don’t kiss any other boys while I’m gone, okay?”

“What’s the matter, afraid I might make comparisons?” She laughed.

“How did you know?” He winked at her and walked down the steps without looking back, yelling at Hank to stop wearing out his best horn.

* * *

Abby spent her time with Melly, learning how to use the computer. It gave the sisters time to talk and get reacquainted, and it gave Abby something to occupy her mind.

Even when Cade returned, she hardly saw him. He was up with the dawn and out past dark, getting everything ready for the roundup and the massive task of moving the cattle up to summer pasture. By the end of the week, Abby could pick out a single registered bull from the herd records, print out the information required and do it without losing a single punctuation mark.

Meanwhile, Cade, in his spare time, dictated one letter after another to Melly and answered the flood of phone calls that never seemed to stop. The next week, Cade was called out from signing letters at his desk by one of the men when his prize-winning bull keeled over in the barn. He went stalking out the door with Abby at his heels. Melly and Jerry had gone out just after breakfast, and Abby was trying to keep up with Cade’s machine-gun dictation and quick temper all alone.

Abby followed him outside with a typed letter in her hand as he took the reins of his black gelding from one of the men and started to swing into the saddle.

“Cade, could you sign this letter before you go?” she called. “It’s about that new hay baler.”

“Oh, hell, I forgot,” he muttered. “Hand it here, honey.”

He propped it against the saddle and slashed his name in a bold scrawl across the bottom of it. “I’ll see if—”

“Mr. McLaren,” one of the new cowboys interrupted, reining up beside them. “Hank said to find you and tell you that the new tractor we just bought is busted. Axle broke clean in half on us while we were planting over in the bottoms. Hank says you want we should call that feller who sold it to us and see if it’s still under warranty?The other tractor’s still down, you know. Billy’s trying to fix it, and we loaned three out to Mr. Hastings and let Jones have one….”

“Oh, good God,” Cade muttered angrily. “All right, tell Hank to check with the salesman and see how long it will take to get a replacement.”

“Yes, sir,” the cowboy agreed politely. “And the hardware wants to know if you’ll want any more butane.”

Cade looked positively hunted. “They can wait until I get through looking at my sick bull, can’t they?” he asked the man. “Damn it, son, that bull cost me a quarter of a million dollars, and the insurance won’t heal my heart if he dies!” He glowered at the cowboy. “Tell Jerry to take care of it.”

“Uh, he’s kind of busy,” the young cowboy muttered, avoiding Cade’s eyes.

“Doing what?” came the terse reply.

“Uh, he and Miss Melly are down at their house, her house, checking paint swatches…”

Cade’s cheeks colored darkly with temper. “You get down there and tell Jerry I said he can stop that kind of thing. I pay him to run this damned ranch, not to go around checking paint swatches on my time!”

“Yes, sir, Mr. McLaren!” He saluted and rode quickly away.

Abby was watching Cade with twinkling eyes. It was something else to watch him delegate. He did it well, and his temper mostly amused the men because it was never malicious.

He turned, catching that gleam in her eyes, andcocked an eyebrow at her from under the wide-brimmed hat. “Something tickle your fancy, Miss Shane?”

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