She glanced at the sun and sighed, focusing on the food preparation she needed to do for the evening meal. “We’ll go back now,” she said to Jed.
He grinned and mounted his horse. As Ella followed suit, Jed dismounted and raced off with a whoop. Ella watched him leap over the fence and run with long, loping strides until he disappeared.
Within a few minutes, he returned with a dead rabbit hanging from his belt. “Good tucker,” he said with his habitual beam.
By no means had Ella mended all the fences, and the work left to do would be exhausting. She grinned back. Now that she had been taught how, she could finish the task in the next few days.
* * * *
The ubiquitous mutton roasted and the vegetables sizzled. The daylight would last another couple of hours. With the outside table ready for the evening meal, Rose wrote letters and Vianna cut scraps of fabric for her doll’s clothes. Ella, her mood lightened by her successful day, joined Cal, who had promised her a lesson in shepherding. He looked indefatigable. His shirt was fresh, he smelled of soap, and his dark hair was wet and slicked back. Not only was he wildly handsome, but he was also patient enough to continue teaching a pupil whose ability was, at best, untried.
The dogs, under Cal’s control, separated four ewes from those shorn during the day and herded the grouped sheep toward the temporarily empty woolshed paddock. Jed would bring in the next mob tomorrow. When the sheep stopped inside the fence, Cal said, “Tell the dogs to sit.”
“Sit.” She wished she and Cal had not lost the familiarity of last night. A little relaxation, a smile, a touch, or even a joke would have been appreciated. Instead, he acted like the taskmaster of this morning.
The dogs pranced around, stirring drifts of dry soil. “Be definite.”
“Definitely sit, dogs,” she said sternly, placing her hands on her hips. Amazingly, they did. “Oh, this is easy. Stand.”
Cal shook his head and laughed. “Heel.” He glanced at her in mock reproof as they moved to his side. “Tell them to stay.”
“Stay.”
“Now, we want them to move the sheep two by two back through the gate,” he said, but the atmosphere had changed. Cal had adapted to her jaunty mood and seemed ready to be amused. He induced the dogs to do as he wished by a series of commands no more complicated than sit, stay, down, and heel.
By the time the sun had diminished to a glare behind the bordering pines, Ella had control of the dogs. She would never match Cal with her practical skills, but she tried hard to meet his standards. She and the dogs, with Cal sauntering behind, took the sheep back to the woolshed paddock.
“I’m very pleased with myself. I should be able to teach Jed to do that quite easily. You have a rare talent for getting the best out of people. Have you ever thought about running a property of your own?” She glanced at his broad shoulders and averted her gaze. His maleness caught at her insides and set her pulses fluttering.
“I hope to do that, certainly. My own way.”
“I suspect you never do a thing any other way,” she said matter-of-factly. “Is running a property your plan for the future?”
He brushed his fingers over his chin as if considering. “Not for my immediate future, no.”
“It’s hard to get past immediate futures,” she said, watching Girl angle her head beneath Cal’s hand to receive a pat. “If you’re like me, you want to do everything yesterday.”
“Like find your rich husband?”
She passed through the gate, which he shut behind her. “Women with rich husbands don’t have to learn how to herd sheep.”
“And they live in smart houses in the city.”
“Have you ever been to the city?”
He nodded, leaning back against the gate, one heel hooked on the bottom rung. “My mother lives in the city. Every year she finds me a new wife.”
“And how many do you have now?” She rested a palm on the fencepost, smiling at him, conscious of his strong jaw, his sculpted cheekbones, and her own breathing.
He smiled back. “None. The females that suit her don’t suit me.”
“And what sort of females suit you?”
“Are you testing my flirting skills?” he said with a hooded glance at her.
His unexpected response dried her mouth. She held his gaze. “Perhaps I’m testing mine.”
He inclined his head. “Most of you females seem to have it down pat.”
Encouraged by his banter, she lifted the closing wire over the fencepost and lingered. “Ah, I understand. You’re nursing a broken heart. Some woman trifled with you and then she married another.”
When he neither moved nor answered, she wondered if she’d guessed correctly. What sort of woman had broken his heart? Obviously one who didn’t appreciate a man with looks, humor, ability, intelligence, and apparent ambition. Cal could go anywhere and be anyone. He wouldn’t need to consider, using no particular example, a woman with no income, no special talents, blistered and scratched hands, and at least one dependent sister.
He turned slowly to stare at the shorn sheep, resting both elbows on the top of the gate. “When do you plan to do the dipping?”
Her eyes shifted to his bared forearms, sinewy, muscle-hard, and tanned, and she groaned. “I suspect you think I don’t have enough to occupy myself.”
“The best time for dipping is after shearing.”
She put her hand over her heart. “I swear that the sheep will be dipped sometime in the next two weeks.”
“Does Jed know how to dip sheep?”
“He used to help Papa.”
“You could probably help him.”
“Ladies don’t dip sheep.”
“Ladies don’t repair fences.” He took her hand in his, stroking his thumb across her reddened palm and examining a blister. “I assume that’s what you’ve been doing today.”
She drew a shivery breath, leaving her hand in his, remaining so still that the moment expanded to significance. “Jed doesn’t have time to do all the tasks you set him. I’ve needed to help.”
“Did you rake under the woolshed?”
“Someone had to, as you said.”
He gently turned her palm over and stroked the pad of his thumb across a new scratch. “Do you have the recipe for the dip?”
She heard herself breathe out. “No, but I’m sure you do.”
With her hand in his, he turned to face her. The strength in his stance contrasted with the softness in his expression. Her heart began to pound erratically.
“No woman has trifled with me and broken my heart,” he said, his thick lashes shading his eyes. “Do you see that as a fault in me?”
“If you have a fault, I’m yet to find it.”
“Why do I assume that is not a compliment?”
“Why indeed? No mere female could possibly understand the workings of a man’s mind.”
He glanced at her from beneath his lowered lids. “Our minds are simple—we need only food, and sleep, and one other thing.”
“Money?” she said, removing her hand