Read Online Beautiful Dreamer with Bonus Material by Elizabeth Lowell - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Lowell
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“Salad?”
“Don’t tell me,” Hope said, groaning. “You’re another one of those cowboys who can’t stand rabbit food.”
Gentle laughter curled around her like a caress, like his voice when he finally spoke. “No problem. I get real hungry for fresh vegetables.”
“Good. We’ll gang up on Mason and demand our rabbit rights.”
Still smiling, Rio pulled the cold hose out of the stock tank and began wrapping the canvas coils around the rack bolted to the end of the truck. Hope helped as much as she could, feeding coils to him. By the time the hose was stowed away, they were both wet and more than a little muddy.
“Feel free to take a dip in the tank before you ride in for dinner,” she said as she wiped her hands on her jeans. “I usually do. It’s more fun than a basin bath at the ranch.”
He smiled slightly. “Is that like a bucket bath?”
“Nope. Less luxurious. Buckets are bigger than our washbasin. Until I can take time out from watering cows to make another run to Turner’s well, that’s all there will be at home—a washrag and a basin of water. But,” she added, smiling crookedly at him, “the washrag is of the highest quality.”
Rio smiled in return, though he would rather have cursed. Obviously the water shortage at the ranch house was little short of desperate; Hope couldn’t supply the house and the scattered range cattle at the same time. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day or strength in her body to do what had to be done.
Again he wondered what had happened to Mason. It wasn’t like him to let a woman work herself raw if he could help her out.
Without a word Rio turned toward his horse and whistled. The rising sound carried as cleanly as a hawk’s cry through the silence.
The mare’s head came up and she trotted over to Rio. He held the roping rein and looked at Hope.
“Give her a few seconds to get used to your lighter weight,” he said. “She’s the best night horse you’ll ever ride.”
“But—” she began.
“I’ll take the truck,” Rio continued without a pause. “Don’t wait dinner for me. I’ll be a while.”
Automatically Hope’s fingers closed over the rein he handed to her. She hesitated, then decided not to ask the obvious question about where he was going and what he was doing. She either trusted Rio or she didn’t. In any case, she wasn’t the kind of employer who needed to keep her men under her thumb at all times.
“Reverse gear is really dicey,” she said. “Avoid it if you can. If you can’t, I wish you luck. You’ll need it. You’ll have a hell of a time getting into another gear. I once backed ten miles to the ranch house so that Mason could work his magic on the gearbox.”
Rio smiled at the picture.
“Keys are in the ignition,” she continued. “Don’t trust the fuel gauge. It always registers half-full. If you’re going more than fifty miles, drop by the ranch house. Diesel is in the blue tank to the left of the barn. Gasoline is in the red tank.”
Rio nodded, started toward the truck, then turned back with an odd expression on his face. “Are you always this trusting with strangers?”
“No,” she said evenly. She looked, but couldn’t see more than a hint of brighter darkness where Rio’s eyes were. “I don’t trust strangers at all.” Then she smiled at her own expense. “And I don’t sleep under trucks with them, either. What about you, Rio? Do you let strangers ride off with your horse?”
“Never.”
The quiet word told Hope more than she had teasingly asked. No one but Rio had ever ridden the hot-blooded mare .
Before she could say anything more, he came to her, laced his hands together to make a stirrup, and lifted her onto Dusk. The mare minced restlessly for a moment before she arched her neck around and sniffed her unexpectedly small rider’s muddy boot.
Hope murmured calm words and stroked the mare’s warm, ghostly-gray neck. At a gentle pressure on the rein, the horse’s
“Don’t tell me,” Hope said, groaning. “You’re another one of those cowboys who can’t stand rabbit food.”
Gentle laughter curled around her like a caress, like his voice when he finally spoke. “No problem. I get real hungry for fresh vegetables.”
“Good. We’ll gang up on Mason and demand our rabbit rights.”
Still smiling, Rio pulled the cold hose out of the stock tank and began wrapping the canvas coils around the rack bolted to the end of the truck. Hope helped as much as she could, feeding coils to him. By the time the hose was stowed away, they were both wet and more than a little muddy.
“Feel free to take a dip in the tank before you ride in for dinner,” she said as she wiped her hands on her jeans. “I usually do. It’s more fun than a basin bath at the ranch.”
He smiled slightly. “Is that like a bucket bath?”
“Nope. Less luxurious. Buckets are bigger than our washbasin. Until I can take time out from watering cows to make another run to Turner’s well, that’s all there will be at home—a washrag and a basin of water. But,” she added, smiling crookedly at him, “the washrag is of the highest quality.”
Rio smiled in return, though he would rather have cursed. Obviously the water shortage at the ranch house was little short of desperate; Hope couldn’t supply the house and the scattered range cattle at the same time. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day or strength in her body to do what had to be done.
Again he wondered what had happened to Mason. It wasn’t like him to let a woman work herself raw if he could help her out.
Without a word Rio turned toward his horse and whistled. The rising sound carried as cleanly as a hawk’s cry through the silence.
The mare’s head came up and she trotted over to Rio. He held the roping rein and looked at Hope.
“Give her a few seconds to get used to your lighter weight,” he said. “She’s the best night horse you’ll ever ride.”
“But—” she began.
“I’ll take the truck,” Rio continued without a pause. “Don’t wait dinner for me. I’ll be a while.”
Automatically Hope’s fingers closed over the rein he handed to her. She hesitated, then decided not to ask the obvious question about where he was going and what he was doing. She either trusted Rio or she didn’t. In any case, she wasn’t the kind of employer who needed to keep her men under her thumb at all times.
“Reverse gear is really dicey,” she said. “Avoid it if you can. If you can’t, I wish you luck. You’ll need it. You’ll have a hell of a time getting into another gear. I once backed ten miles to the ranch house so that Mason could work his magic on the gearbox.”
Rio smiled at the picture.
“Keys are in the ignition,” she continued. “Don’t trust the fuel gauge. It always registers half-full. If you’re going more than fifty miles, drop by the ranch house. Diesel is in the blue tank to the left of the barn. Gasoline is in the red tank.”
Rio nodded, started toward the truck, then turned back with an odd expression on his face. “Are you always this trusting with strangers?”
“No,” she said evenly. She looked, but couldn’t see more than a hint of brighter darkness where Rio’s eyes were. “I don’t trust strangers at all.” Then she smiled at her own expense. “And I don’t sleep under trucks with them, either. What about you, Rio? Do you let strangers ride off with your horse?”
“Never.”
The quiet word told Hope more than she had teasingly asked. No one but Rio had ever ridden the hot-blooded mare .
Before she could say anything more, he came to her, laced his hands together to make a stirrup, and lifted her onto Dusk. The mare minced restlessly for a moment before she arched her neck around and sniffed her unexpectedly small rider’s muddy boot.
Hope murmured calm words and stroked the mare’s warm, ghostly-gray neck. At a gentle pressure on the rein, the horse’s
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