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aren’t planning to use those mules to pull my car out of the ditch, are you?” she protested vigorously. “It’s because of them that it’s in the ditch!”
    â€œIt seems only right that they get it out, then, don’t it?” the driver reasoned with defiant logic.
    Joanna breathed in a deep, angry breath, and vented her disapproval on the other man, bending close to the ground to attach a chain to the frame of her car. “I told you that car is rented. Enough has happened to me already because of those mules! Get something sane and sensible—like a truck, for heaven’s sake! I’ve had it with these four-legged beasts!”
    He paused to throw her a hard glance over his shoulder. “That makes two of us, Miss, because I’ve taken about all the sass I’m going to take from a woman,” he snapped. “You have two choices: either shut up and stay out of the way so we can pull your car out of the ditch, or keep talking and we’ll leave you here to get it out by yourself. Now, which is it to be?”
    She wished she knew whether it was a short walk to her uncle’s cabin or not. She’d love to tell them she didn’t need their help. But she suspected it was another three or four miles—not easy, flat miles—but three or four rough and winding mountain miles. Joanna pressed her lips tightly together in a mute reply to his question, indicating with her silence the choice she made.
    There wasn’t any change in his expression as he turned to complete his task, not uttering a word. When the mules were hooked up to the car, he slid behind the steering wheel to assist by guiding the car. Joanna stayed well out of the way, flinching when the mules threw their weight against the car and she heard the first crunch of the tires.
    The slow, steady pull of the mules began to drag the car out of the ditch without inflicting any damage on the muffler, tailpipe, or undercarriage. The combination of hundred degree temperatures, high humidity, and the air’s stillness made her conscious again of the oppressiveheat. She felt the uncomfortable trickle of perspiration down her neck and into the valley formed by her breasts. A cool shower sounded like heaven at the moment.
    â€œWhoa up thare!”
    Her car was sitting squarely on the road once more. Joanna walked toward it as the man stepped out of the driver’s side. He was examining the front of the car when she reached it. The man in the baggy overalls was behind the car, unhooking his mules.
    â€œSome scratches from the cedar branches on the left fender and the dent in the bumper seem to be the extent of the damages,” the man announced to her.
    Joanna inspected the fenders, hood, and grill for herself and arrived at the same conclusion. Not even a headlamp had been broken.
    â€œIt’s a small miracle,” she retorted and felt the hard pressure of his gaze on her. She lifted her gaze coolly to his face. “I suppose I should thank you for getting my car out of the ditch.”
    â€œI suppose you should,” he agreed, and the uncompromising set of his features set her teeth on edge.
    â€œThank you.” The phrase was neither sincere, warm, nor grateful.
    There wasn’t any satisfaction in the way his mouth tightened at her rudeness. She felt boorish and he was the one who was the country bumpkin.
    He took a step to the side, out of her way.“You’d better start the motor to make sure it runs.”
    A little irritated that she hadn’t thought of that, she swept past him to climb behind the wheel. The motor kicked over on the first try and ran smoothly.
    â€œIt works,” Joanna stated the obvious as the insufferable cowboy walked to the driver’s door she’d left standing open. He pushed it shut for her, as though silently sending Joanna on her way. “Excuse me.” Out of sheer stubbornness, she summoned him back. “My uncle has rented a