Honeybun at a Dude Ranch

CHAPTER THREE-1

CHAPTER THREE

IT HAD SNOWED OVERNIGHT, creating an arctic wonderland in the woods around the cabin. Ice glistened in the trees and his steps were muffled in about four inches of feathery snow as Heathcliffe made his way toward the stables.

There were five people waiting outside the stables when Heathcliffe walked up. None of them was Nita.

A big man with red cheeks offered Heathcliffe his hand as he approached. “Hi! I’m Porter Wilkins.” He indicated the short, round woman standing next to him. “This is my wife Delphine.”

“Heathcliffe Honeybun. Nice to meetcha, Porter. Delphine, what a pretty name.” His mother would love it.

The middle-aged woman tittered, her eyelashes fluttering with embarrassment. “Thank you.”

A younger woman, wearing too much makeup on a wide face framed in rabbit fur, stepped forward. “Agatha Pence. I’m so glad you could join us, Heathcliffe.” Her gaze let him know just how glad she was. Heathcliffe recognized a female predator when he saw one. He dropped her hand as soon as he could and turned away, smiling at a large, heavily dressed woman standing off to the side. “Mornin’.” The woman didn’t offer her name. Her smile was shy but friendly.

“What restaurant are you with?” The man who’d addressed Heathcliffe stood directly under the spotlight that shined down from the peak of the building. He was small and looked like he might be wiry if he weren’t encased in about six inches of shiny puffiness.

“None. I just arrived last night for some R&R.”

The people shivering in front of the stables exchanged looks, apparently shocked an outsider dared to crash their party.

“Hey, y’all. I’m sorry I’m late.” Nita’s voice cut through the uncomfortable moment and drew Heathcliffe’s gaze. She emerged from the snow-drenched shadows like a tiny elf, dressed in a cream colored riding coat and buff colored chaps over her jodhpurs. Bright curls draped her shoulders from beneath a cream colored, knit cap. Her hands were glove free again and red from the cold.

Nita looked upset. He wondered if the source of her frown was the man striding along beside her. He walked too close, looking possessive, with his hand in the small of her back.

Nita forced a smile as she approached, brandishing a key. “This is Max, everybody. He just arrived this morning. I hope you’ll make him feel welcome.” She all but spit the words out, like dust in her mouth. There was no warmth associated with them.

Heathcliffe couldn’t help comparing her treatment of the newcomer to the way she’d greeted him the night before.

Obviously Ms. Harley wasn’t too keen on the new guest at the ranch. Heathcliffe decided he was going to find out why. If the man had mistreated her in some way...

“I assume you’ve all met Mr. Honeybun?” Her smile underscored the kinder tone she used when speaking of Heathcliffe. The contrast was clear enough to draw a speculative gaze from Max.

The group nodded, murmuring an affirmative.

“It’ll just take me a minute to get us ready.” Nita unlocked the large sliding barn door and pulled it open, exposing a clean concrete aisle lined on both sides by wood-sided stalls. A variety of large heads bobbed inside the stalls, the horses inside finishing up their morning hay. “As you can see, the horses have been fed and are ready for us to take them out.” Nita started down the aisle. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll assign each of you a horse and show you where you can find your tack.” Turning around she slid her gaze over the assembled group, lingering briefly on Heathcliffe. “You all know how to tack up a horse?”

All heads nodded and she smiled. “Good. That will make my job easier this morning.”

Nita disappeared through a door and came back out with a clipboard. Over the next few minutes she gave out horse assignments to the assembled group, explaining that the tack for each horse was hanging, clearly labeled, inside the heated tack room.

When it was down to Heathcliffe and the newcomer, the man she’d arrived with stepped forward. “I’ll take the Friesian.”

Nita shook her head. “Mr. Honeybun is going to ride Noire. He belongs to his cou...”

“I’m sure Mr. Honeybun wouldn’t mind if we switched.” Max looked down his nose at Heathcliffe. “Do you, Heathcliffe?” He smiled as he repeated the name, clearly amused.

“Max!” Nita obviously didn’t like the man’s attitude.

Refusing to be bated, Heathcliffe returned the other man’s smile. “Noire’s a handful.” Heathcliffe told him. “Are you a good rider?”

“The best. I’m pretty sure I can handle him.”

“Well, you aren’t going to find out.” Nita poked the clipboard at him, “I told you the Friesian is taken. You get Buck. He’s in the end stall, next to Noire. I think you’ll like Buck, he doesn’t listen very well either.” With that, Nita turned away and headed down the aisle to supervise the preparation of the other horses.

Heathcliffe chuckled, shaking his head. “I guess she told you.”

Max didn’t seem amused. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Honeybun...but you just stay away from Nita. She’s not interested.”

“I’m not doing anything. Except going for a ride at six o’clock in the dang morning. But I know enough about women to know that Ms. Harley will make up her own mind about what she’s interested in. And I respect her enough to tell you that, if you try in any way to persuade her away from her inclinations, you’ll be dealing with me...Max.”

Heathcliffe headed for the tack room. He got Noire ready and then took the initiative to get Nita’s fiery gray mare, Jenna, ready for her while she dealt with the shiny puffball, who’d apparently lied about knowing how to tack up a horse. He’d been trying to shove the bridle on his poor horse upside down before Nita rescued them both.

Heathcliffe mostly ignored Max, but he couldn’t help grinning at the cursing and the sound of hooves slamming against wood coming from inside Buck’s stall.

Apparently Buck didn’t like the man either.

Twenty minutes later they were ready to go. Before they mounted up, Nita pulled Heathcliffe aside. “Can you take the rear? I’d appreciate it if you’d help me keep an eye on the others. I put them on docile horses but a couple of them misrepresented their experience. If somebody starts having trouble, I need someone else who can ride to help out.”

“Of course I’ll help.” He glanced at her hands. “Where are your gloves, firecracker?”

Her smile shone whitely through the pre-dawn light. “I left them in the ranch house.”

He pulled off his gloves and gave them to her. “Put these on.”

“I’m not taking your gloves...”

“If you don’t wear the gloves I’m going to go back to the ranch house and get yours for you.”

She frowned, glancing at her watch. The implication was clear. She was running behind schedule and he was delaying her further. Heathcliffe didn’t care. He pushed the gloves closer. “You’ll swim in these but at least your fingers won’t freeze off.”

“What about your fingers?”

He grinned. “You should have thought of that before you left your gloves in the ranch house.”

She stared at him for a moment, her bright green gaze sparking, and he thought she was gonna start screaming at him. But instead, she threw back her head and laughed. “Okay. You win. But only because you have me between a rock and a hard place.” She shoved her small hands into the fur-lined leather and closed her eyes, sighing with delight. “I really want to threaten revenge, but these feel too good.” She opened her eyes again. “However, on a positive note, I’m sure you’ll give me another reason to seek retribution before the week is up.”

He laughed. “Count on it. I’m the youngest of eight boys, pissing people off is kind of my specialty.”

Her high-pitched laughter trailed behind her as she led her horse toward the mounting block. “Saddle up, everybody. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Heathcliffe patted Noire’s wide, shiny neck. “I think she might be more of a handful even than you, old buddy.” The huge, black horse snorted derisively, stamping his feet and swishing his thick tail.

Grabbing a fistful of coarse, wavy mane, he placed his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up into the saddle. Noire danced enthusiastically and pawed at the ground with his massive hooves. Heathcliffe spoke quietly to settle him. “Easy boy. Deep calming breaths.”

Noire answered with a blowing snort that caused the other horses to jump and turn their heads.

Heathcliffe looked around for Max. The other man was staring at Nita with something dark in his gaze. When he turned to catch Heathcliffe ’s eye, Max’s expression was filled with obvious hostility. He stared pointedly at Heathcliffe for a long moment, openly challenging him. When Max finally broke eye contact to mount his horse, Heathcliffe slid his gaze toward Nita. Apparently oblivious to the possessive look Max had focused on her, she sat confidently astride her elegant, dancing Thoroughbred, smiling with pleasure as she chatted with the other riders. He didn’t share her relaxed attitude. In fact, he had a bad feeling about her friend, Max. Either the guy was planning to cause some trouble for all of them, or he would be focusing his displeasure on Nita.

Either way he’d harm Nita. Although Heathcliffe believed she was fully capable of taking care of herself verbally, and maybe even emotionally, she didn’t have a chance against the guy physically.

Heathcliffe would have to keep an eye on him. And heaven help the man if he stepped out of line with the pretty AD. He told himself he was just looking out for Peyton’s interests at the Ranch.

But even he didn’t really believe it.

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