venomous little snake,” he said furiously. “As if you could sing a note that wasn’t flat!”
She colored. “I could sing if I wanted to!”
He looked her up and down. “Sure. And get suddenly beautiful with it?”
The color left her face.
“You’re too thin, too flat-chested, too plain and too untalented to ever appeal to me, just in case you wondered,” he added with unconcealed distaste.
She drew herself up to her full height, which only brought the top of her head to his chin, and stared at him with ragged dignity. “Thank you. I was wondering why men don’t come around. It’s nice to know the reason.”
Her damaged pride hit him soundly, and he felt small. He shifted from one big booted foot to the other. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said after a minute.
She turned away. She wasn’t going to cry in front of him.
Her sudden vulnerability hurt him. He started after her. “Listen, Madeline,” he began.
She whirled on her booted heel. Her pale eyes shot fire at him. Her exquisite complexion went ruddy. Beside her thighs, her hands were clenched. “You think you’re God’s gift to women, don’t you? Well, let me tell you a thing or two! You’ve traded on your good looks for years to get you what you want, but it didn’t get you Odalie, did it?”
His face went stony. “Odalie is none of your damned business,” he said in a soft, dangerous tone.
“Looks like she’s none of yours, either,” she said spitefully. “Or she’d never have left you.”
He turned around and stomped back to his truck.
“And don’t you dare roar out of my driveway and scare my hens again!”
He slammed the door, started the truck and deliberately gunned the engine as he roared out toward the main highway.
“Three days they won’t lay, now,” Maddie said to herself. She turned, miserable, and went up the porch steps. Her pride was never going to heal from that attack. She’d had secret feelings for Cort since she was sixteen. He’d never noticed her, of course, not even to tease her as men sometimes did. He simply ignored her existence most of the time, when her rooster wasn’t attacking him. Now she knew why. Now she knew what he really thought of her.
Great-Aunt Sadie was waiting by the porch screen door. She was frowning. “No call for him to say that about you,” she muttered. “Conceited man!”
Maddie fought tears and lost.
Great-Aunt Sadie wrapped her up tight and hugged her. “Don’t you believe what he said. He was just mad and looking for a way to hurt you because you mentioned his precious Odalie. She’s too good for any cowboy. At least, she thinks she is.”
“She’s beautiful and rich and talented. But so is Cort,” Maddie choked out. “It really would have been a good match, to pair the Everett’s Big Spur ranch with Skylance, the Brannt ranch. What a merger that would be.”
“Except that Odalie doesn’t love Cort and she probably never will.”
“She may come home with changed feelings,” Maddie replied, drawing away. “She might have a change of heart. He’s always been around, sending her flowers, calling her. All that romantic stuff. The sudden stop might open her eyes to what a catch he is.”
“You either love somebody or you don’t,” the older woman said quietly.
“You think?”
“I’ll make you a nice pound cake. That will cheer you up.”
“Thanks. That’s sweet of you.” She wiped her eyes. “Well, at least I’ve lost all my illusions. Now I can just deal with my ranch and stop mooning over a man who thinks he’s too good for me.”
“No man is too good for you, sweetheart,” Great-Aunt Sadie said gently. “You’re pure gold. Don’t you ever let anyone tell you different.”
She smiled.
When she went out late in the afternoon to put her hens in their henhouse to protect them from overnight predators, Pumpkin was right where he should be—back in the yard.
“You’re going to get me sued, you red-feathered problem child,” she muttered. She was carrying a small tree branch and a metal garbage can lid as she herded her hens into the large chicken house. Pumpkin lowered his head and charged her, but he bounced off the lid.
“Get in there, you fowl assassin,” she said, evading and turning on him.
He ran into the henhouse. She closed the door behind him and latched it, leaned back against it with a sigh.
“Need to get rid of that rooster, Miss Maddie,” Ben murmured as he walked by. “Be delicious with some dumplings.”
“I’m not eating Pumpkin!”
He shrugged. “That’s okay. I’ll eat him for you.”
“I’m not feeding him to you, either, Ben.”
He made a face and kept walking.
She went inside to wash her hands and put antibiotic cream on the places where her knuckles were scraped from using the garbage can lid. She looked at her hands under the running water. They weren’t elegant hands. They had short nails and they were functional, not pretty. She remembered Odalie Everett’s long, beautiful white fingers on the keyboard at church, because Odalie could play as well as she sang. The woman was gorgeous, except for her snobbish attitude. No wonder Cort was in love with her.
Maddie looked in the mirror on the medicine cabinet above the sink and winced. She really was plain, she thought. Of course, she never used makeup or perfume, because she worked from dawn to dusk on the ranch. Not that makeup would make her beautiful, or give her bigger breasts or anything like that. She was basically just pleasant to look at, and Cort wanted beauty, brains and talent.
“I guess you’ll end up an old spinster with a rooster who terrorizes the countryside.”
The thought made her laugh. She thought of photographing Pumpkin and making a giant Wanted poster, with the legend, Wanted: Dead or Alive. She could hardly contain herself at the image that presented itself if she offered some outlandish reward. Men would wander the land with shotguns, looking for a small red rooster.
“Now you’re getting silly,” she told her image, and went back to work.
Cort Brannt slammed out of his pickup truck and into the ranch house, flushed with anger and self-contempt.
His mother, beautiful Shelby Brannt, glanced up as he passed the living room.
“Wow,” she murmured. “Cloudy and looking like rain.”
He paused and glanced at her. He grimaced, retraced his steps, tossed his hat onto the sofa and sat down beside her. “Yeah.”
“That rooster again, huh?” she teased.
His dark eyes widened. “How did you guess?”
She tried to suppress laughter and lost. “Your father came in here bent over double, laughing his head off. He said half the cowboys were ready to load rifles and go rooster-hunting about the time you drove off. He wondered if we might need to find legal representation for you…?”
“I didn’t shoot her,” he said. He shrugged his powerful shoulders and let out a long sigh, his hands dangling between his splayed legs as he stared at the carpet. “But I said some really terrible things to her.”
Shelby put down the European fashion magazine she’d been reading. In her younger days, she had been a world-class model before she married King Brannt. “Want to talk about it, Matt?” she asked gently.
“Cort,” he corrected with a grin.