“You stink, Whiskers.”
Clearly exasperated, the old man opened and closed his mouth several times in search of epithets suitable for ladies and young ears. “Well, you don’t smell like no rose, yourself, boy.”
When his stomach rumbled, Jed asked, “What are we gonna do about supper?”
His complexion a sickly green, Jim swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down several times. “How can you think about your gut now? I’ll be off my feed for a week.”
“I can’t help it,” Jed complained, his stomach growling again. “I’m hungry enough to eat that danged skunk.”
Whiskers folded his arms across his chest. “Well, I ain’t goin’ back in there till the place airs a mite.”
Jed pointed to Jenna. “What’s she doin’?”
Flint turned in time to see Jenna take a deep breath and head back toward the kitchen door. Several minutes later, tears streaming down her face, she deposited an armload of luncheon meats, condiments and two loaves of bread on the picnic table at the side of the house. She coughed several times, but to his amazement she didn’t stop. She headed right back inside.
When she returned to add a six-pack of beer, several cans of soda and a bottle of tomato juice to the pile on the table, Whiskers elbowed Flint. “Don’t that beat all you ever seen?”
She wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeve and slumped down in the dappled shade of an oak tree. He and his men stared in awe.
Tipping his hat, Jed broke the silence. “Thanks, ma’am.”
“Whiskers, you…and Ryan need…to wash off…with the tomato juice.” She coughed several times, then leaned back against the trunk of the tree. “It should take care of the smell on your skin, but you’ll probably have to burn your clothes.”
Admiring her in any way was the last thing Flint wanted, but when he washed Ryan with the juice, he had to give her credit. She’d braved the pungent odor when the rest of them wouldn’t.
After helping Ryan into the clothes Whiskers had retrieved from the clothesline, Flint walked over to hand her a sandwich and can of soda. “Here. You’ve earned this.”
She took the soft drink, but refused the food. “Thanks, but I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”
Flint squatted down beside her, plucked a blade of grass and began to twirl it between his fingers. After what she’d just done for Ryan and his men, she deserved some sort of appreciation. But the words wanted to stick in his throat.
Damn. Eating crow wasn’t something he had to do often and it didn’t come easy. “I…appreciate what you’ve done.” He cleared his throat. “And earlier—in the hall—I guess I might have been a little harsh. But I’m sure you can understand, since my ex-wife died and I gained custody of him, I’m very protective of my son.”
Jenna gave Flint a suspicious look. He did seem to be trying to establish a truce, although it wasn’t exactly a gracious one. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ve always been that way with my brother, Cooper, even though he’s older.”
Flint looked thoughtful. “Cooper Adams is your brother?”
Not surprised he recognized the name, she nodded.
“He’s one of the best bull riders I’ve ever seen. I watched him score a ninety-four at the rodeo in Mesquite and a ninety in Amarillo. Didn’t he make the National Finals a few years back?”
Jenna nodded. “Year before last he took second place in bull riding and fourth in the all-around competition.”
Ryan’s eyes grew round and he plopped down between them. “Wow! He must be real brave.”
Remembering another bull rider and the two thousand pounds of enraged beef that had ended his life, a shudder ran the length of her spine. She stared off into the distance. Forever etched in her memory, the image would haunt her until the day she died.
“Bulls can be very dangerous,” she finally managed.
“Daddy won’t let me go down to the bull pens.” Ryan glared at his father. “I’m not allowed to go around any of the animals without a grown-up.”
“Maybe he’s afraid you’ll get hurt,” Jenna offered, grateful for the distraction.
“Not my daddy. He’s not afraid of nothin’.” When he gazed up at Flint, Ryan’s expression instantly changed to admiration.
Jenna smiled at the pride in the little boy’s voice. She remembered thinking much the same about her own father. She reached out to ruffle Ryan’s hair. “I’m sure he isn’t.”
Flint watched with a trace of envy. How would it feel to have her run her hands through his hair?
Try as he might, Flint couldn’t erase the memory of how she’d felt when she backed into him in the hall. He glanced down at his callused hands. Her curves had filled them to perfection, and they itched to hold her again.
“I wanna be a bull rider when I grow up,” Ryan said, jumping to his feet, his face animated.
Snapped back to reality, Flint smiled and caught his son in midhop to swing Ryan up onto his knee. “Last week you wanted to be a Jedi knight. The week before that you were going to play a guitar and change your name to Garth.”
“I can still do all that stuff, too. But I wanna be a bull rider and go to all the rodeos.”
“I’ll clean the kitchen while the men finish eating,” Jenna said suddenly, rising to her feet.
Flint shook his head. “No. We’ll—”
“Are any of you willing to volunteer for Purge Patrol?” she asked the men gathered around the picnic table. Gazes darted off to the distant horizon and boots shuffled, but the men remained silent. She turned to walk toward the house. “I rest my case.”
What kind of game was she playing now? Flint stared after her. If she thought being helpful would pardon the way she’d tricked him with that contract, she was in for a big surprise.
He gave himself a mental pat on the back for a lesson well learned. Now that he knew how she operated, there wasn’t any kind of scheme she could think up that he couldn’t deal with.
Jenna stepped out onto the front porch to watch the golden glory of the setting sun fade into indigo darkness. Like a comfortable quilt, a wondrous tranquility began to settle across the land, and pinpoints of light dotted the vast heavens above. The chirp of crickets soon introduced a chorus, and bass-throated bullfrogs down by the creek joined in. Somewhere in the distance, spotlighted by a full moon, the mournful solo of a lone coyote completed the lullaby, transforming the evening into a hymn of praise by nature’s wild creatures.
Despite the warm temperature, Jenna wrapped her arms around herself to ward off a chill. This time of night always reminded her of her solitude.
It wasn’t supposed to have turned out this way, she thought sadly. Life should be shared.
“Nice night, isn’t it?”
Startled, she spun around to find Flint leaning against one of the support posts in a shadowed corner of the porch. “I didn’t know anyone was out here.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Embarrassed that he’d witnessed her pensive mood, she dropped her arms to her sides and turned back to watch the last glimmer of light slip below the horizon.
Several minutes stretched between them before Flint spoke again. “The smell has cleared out of the kitchen. Thanks.”
Jenna shrugged. “The skunk didn’t bless us with a full dose, and what he did spray missed the porous surfaces. Nothing the tomato juice and ammonia couldn’t take care of.”
“That’s