Lone Star Bride. Carolyn Davidson

for her, gave her what she demanded of them, and were soon ready to go on to the next phase of their training. Alexis was light, probably not weighing much more than a hundred pounds, James figured. She was not tall, but petite and slender, agile and quick in her movements.

      She leaned against the horses, bent low to stroke their bellies, picked up their feet, one after another, preparing them for the handling they would receive as mature animals. They had to learn to accept being shod in another year or so. Men would brush them, lead them, handle them, expect much of them in the future. It was Alexis’s job to see to it that they were not shy around others, that they would accept another’s hands on them.

      She possessed a rare sense of communication with the animals, and with that in mind, he thought to utilize her in his work with the three-year-olds.

      “Would you like to give me a hand, Alex?” he asked her. They were at the breakfast table, a meal cooked and served by the cook, a buxom lady named Ellen, brought out from town to fill the job Alexis no longer had the time nor inclination to do.

      “Doing what?” she asked, buttering her toast and then reaching for the jam jar.

      “Getting the three-year-olds used to a saddle and rider.”

      Hank spoke up quickly. “I don’t want my girl dumped by an ornery horse. That’s a man’s job.”

      Darting a warning look at Alexis, James grinned at Hank. “Don’t you think Alex can do as well as any of the men on the place?”

      “In some ways,” Hank allowed, eyeing Alexis warily, as if he recognized that his quick refusal had caused her to bristle.

      He was right. She was stewing quietly, but her temper was close to the boiling point as she listened to the two men discussing her. Jamie had given her more responsibility than she’d expected, allowing her a free hand with the yearlings for almost two months. With a mental pat on the back, she judged she had done a job that no one could find fault with.

      The ranch was the proud possessor of a dozen or so yearlings, all easily handled, all trained to walk, trot and lope at the end of a rope, on command. They carried a blanket and sometimes a twenty-five pound weight on their backs, and would become accustomed to that before the poundage was increased.

      “Why don’t I have the chance to answer your question, Jamie?” she asked, as the conversation came to a halt.

      “You can say whatever you like, so far as I’m concerned,” he told her.

      “You’re a woman, Alexis,” her father reminded her. “You can’t be expected to do a man’s work.”

      “And who says that only men can train horses? I think I’ve done all right so far. I’d like to have a chance at the three-yearolds. If Jamie thinks I can handle it, that’s good enough for me.”

      “Have you been coaxing him into asking about this?” her father asked roughly.

      “I’m not underhanded,” she told him, her anger coming to the forefront. “If I want something, I can approach you without Jamie’s permission. So to answer your question, no, I’ve not been coaxing him into anything.”

      She looked at the man across the table, whose handsome features were partially buried in his hand, as if he hid a smile from her view.

      Hank blustered a bit. “The first time you get tossed off a horse, you’re done, Alex,” he said. “I won’t have you killed just to prove a point.”

      She aimed a questioning look at him. “And what point is that?”

      “You know what I’m saying. Jamie and I agree that you have a natural ability, you’re a born trainer. You have a gift not given to many people in this world, a natural affinity for horses. But you can’t win them all. There’s bound to be a horse that won’t respond to you, and that one could kill you. You don’t have the physical strength to handle a determined stud.”

      “At least give me a chance, Dad. I won’t do anything Jamie thinks isn’t safe. Will that make you feel better?”

      “So long as you don’t try to persuade him otherwise,” Hank told her firmly.

      “She won’t get around me,” James said, and Alexis ducked her head, hiding the look of triumph she felt washing over her countenance.

      Assuming an affable smile, she faced her father again. “He’s tough, Dad. If he makes a statement, you can bet he’ll do as he says.”

      Hank shot her a level look, his brow furrowed in a frown. “I know you too well, Alexis. You can be mighty persuasive when you want to.”

      James looked her way, an imperceptible twist of his head warning her to desist before she said too much, and then spoke forthrightly in Hank’s direction. “She won’t put me in a bind, sir. I know her tricks.”

      Alex fought the rush of heat that appeared at his words. “I haven’t any bag of tricks, Jamie. I play fair. I’d think you’d know that by now.”

      “You’re a woman,” he said, as if that were the final word on the subject. And to add emphasis to his statement, he rose from the table and picked up his cup, swallowing the last of his coffee. “I’ll go by whatever you decide, Hank. Let me know.”

      “Don’t go yet,” Hank said quickly. “I’m willing to give it a chance. Just keep an eye out.”

      “I won’t expect too much from her,” James told him, and then motioned at Alex. “Let’s go, ma’am. We’ve got work to do.”

      With mixed emotions, Alexis followed him out the door, waving at her father as she crossed the threshold, forming her lips into a quick “thank you” in his direction. Stepping double-time, she caught up with James and strode beside him. This man was very good at irritating her, his lifted eyebrow speaking volumes. And then his single word verified her thoughts.

      “Satisfied?” he asked, looking down at her.

      “Not quite, but almost,” she said, lifting her chin in a gesture of defiance. “Once I get on top of one of those beauties, I’ll be happy.”

      “Don’t push it,” James said gruffly.

      “I won’t. Just know that you’re going to have the best trained bunch of horses in the county. I’ll ride them all before I’m done.”

      “Pride goeth—”

      “I know the rest of it,” she said sharply. “And it isn’t pride that drives me. I know what I can do, and so do you, or you wouldn’t have pushed my father for this.”

      James grinned at her, a sudden switch of mood that threw her off balance. “All right, sweetheart. Strut your stuff. We’ll start with the pinto mare. She’s not as big as some of the others.”

      It was a long day. They broke for dinner at noon and then went back to the corral, where several of the hands happened to meander past, their eyes watchful as Alexis grew familiar with each horse she handled.

      “Who’s been in charge of these?” James asked. “Who worked with them before I got here?”

      “Slim, mostly,” Alexis told him. “He’s about the best on the place.”

      James shook his head, a silent rebuttal of her words. “No, sweetheart. That’s where you’re wrong. You’re the best on the place.”

      Her heart soared with the words of praise. So easily he could brush aside her barriers and set her heart beating double-time. Between his Irish blue eyes and the shock of black hair that begged for her touch, he was a man she was finding it hard to resist. In fact, she wondered some days and nights why she bothered. She was past the age of girlhood, she was a mature woman, and if she chose to know James Webster on a deeper level, it was no one’s business but her own. But not for the world would she let him know how readily he affected her.

      He paused beside her and touched her elbow, his gaze seeming to look