Page 19 of Too Hot To Handle

„Tell me, city girl,“ Reever continued, pinning Tory with a metallic glance. „How are you going to prepare the ground for all those seeds?“

„I saw a shovel in the barn,“ she said neutrally.

„You’ll have to do a hell of a lot more thanlookat a shovel to get a garden,“ he retorted. „Or did you just expect to plug the shovel in and watch it dig all by itself?“

Tory swallowed a crack about not being able to find an extension cord that long. „No,“ she said quietly. „I expected to get it done one foot at a time.“

„Left or right foot?“ asked Jed innocently.

Tory tried not to smile but didn’t succeed. „Whatever works,“ she said, giving Jed a sideways glance out of eyes as green as gems.

Reever caught the look, and his mouth flattened until there was nothing except a thin, hard line. But whatever he was going to say was lost beneath the genial argument over whether it was better to shovel with the left or the right foot. Tory listened to the men with relief, hoping that Reever had been deflected from another scathing speech about useless city girls. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold her tongue, especially when being polite was a one-way street. She couldn’t bait Reever or even respond to his baiting, but he was under no such restraints with her. If he wanted a bite out of her, he just took it and dared her to bite back.

And she was terrified that she would. Then she would lose, and lose hard. She could all but taste the scalding humiliation that would come if she crossed Reever.

Quietly Tory pushed back her chair and began to clean the kitchen while the men finished dinner. Normally she enjoyed sitting around the table with them, listening and learning as they talked about horses and cows, grass and creeks, storm and sunshine. She didn’t want to stay around tonight. Reever was in a savage mood, his features bleak and unforgiving. Sooner or later she would bear the brunt of his temper unless she got out of his sight.

When Dutch started to object as Tory took his plate, she bent closer and whispered, „Don’t get up. Please, Dutch. Reever will skin me alive. My hands are okay. Really.“

Dutch muttered something fully suited to Reever in his worst mood, but the wiry little cowhand didn’t get up and help Tory with the dishes. Dutch, too, had seen the black signs of Reever’s temper. So had the rest of the hands. Within minutes the kitchen was empty but for Tory and Reever. To her relief he got up and went into his office to work on the books. Tory sighed unconsciously and wondered if Reever’s temper would be any better the following morning.

It wasn’t. None of the hands escaped the caustic effects of Reever’s tongue. Tory waited until he had ridden off before she went out to the barn, found an old shovel and went to work on the garden.

And work it was. The ground was rich but stubborn. The shovel was heavy and better suited to boots than tennis shoes. Dutch came by with a pair of his old work gloves in his hand. They were big on Tory, but they made it much easier to handle the splintery old shovel. Even so, she had done only one short furrow by the time she had to go inside and begin lunch. The ragged line of earth glistened with fertile promise each time she looked out the window.

One time when she looked out, the line of turned earth had suddenly, impossibly widened. She blinked, shook her head and stared. From the back porch came the sound of Jed’s and Dutch’s voices. Then came Miller’s. She raced to the other window and saw the three cowhands making short work of the earth. Two of them used spades that sliced easily through the ground. The third broke up the big clods with the shovel.

„Reever’s gonna tan our hides,“ said Jed casually.

Miller grunted, rubbed a weathered leather glove over his equally weathered jeans and spat a stream of tobacco juice off to one side.

Dutch shrugged. „I figure it this way, son,“ said the cowhand, leaning on the spade. „Reever told us to shovel out the corral. Now, if we want to shovel them sunbaked turds into this patch of ground instead of off behind the barn, that’s our business.“ There was a pause, then, „Move it, Miller. Here comes Teague with another wheelbarrow of Blackjack’s best.“

Tory watched until tears blurred the men into shadows. Slowly she turned back to the chili that was simmering on the stove. She wiped her eyes impatiently as she opened the flour bin. She had been practicing piecrusts for two weeks. Now was as good a time as any to see if she had learned to make a crust that tasted better than it looked.

By lunchtime the smell of apple pie was competing with the spicy fragrance of chili. As she pulled the second pie out to cool, she looked at the crust critically. Not gorgeous, but acceptable. And she knew the pie itself would taste good because she had eaten a spoonful of filling when she cleaned the bowl. Now all she had to do was find out if the hands liked cheese or ice cream with their hot apple pie.

Tory went to the back door. As she reached for the handle, the sound of Reever’s voice came clearly through the screen.

„What do you think you’re doing?“

„Shifting turds,“ Dutch said succinctly.

Reever’s ice-pale glance went from man to man. Without a word he turned Blackjack and went back to the corral. Tory let out a long breath and crept silently back to the kitchen. When the table was set, she went out to the metal triangle that hung from the porch roof. She banged enthusiastically with a steel wand, calling the hands in to lunch.

No one came running. Frowning, she banged some more. Still no one. She walked out into the yard, looked around, but saw no one. Slowly she climbed the steps onto the back porch and walked into the kitchen, wondering where all the men were.

Everyone was in place around the table but Reever. All of the men were trying so hard not to smile that their faces must have ached. Bewildered, Tory looked from one to the other, wondering what was going on. Then she spotted the mound of small, colorful packets heaped to overflowing on her plate. Seeds and more seeds, a cascade of possibilities calling to her. There were so many – far more than three dollars could have bought.

„They’re all yours, Tory,“ said Jed, grinning and sliding three dollar bills under her plate. „And if you try to pay us back, we’ll pour cement in your garden.“

With an excited sound Tory hurried to the table, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. She didn’t see Reever silently close the porch door behind him. He leaned a hard shoulder against the doorframe, stuck his thumbs through the loops of his jeans and watched while surprise and pleasure transformed Tory’s face. She ran her fingers through the piled packages of seeds as though they were gold and jewels, reading off the names while her voice got more and more husky until it shivered into silence over her words of thanks.

„City girl,“ said Reever curtly, „I think you and the boys have forgotten something.“

Tory started, scattering bright packages over the table. She looked over her shoulder almost fearfully. „Oh, Reever, please,“ she said, her voice husky. „Let me use that little bit of land. I won’t let it get in the way of my cooking.“

„Hell,“ Reever said roughly, hating to hear the catch in Tory’s voice, „you can have the damned garden, for what good it will do you.“