High-Riding Heroes Read Online Free PDF Page B

tilted upward, automatically. “I was cleaning this up for barn dancing on Saturday nights.”
    He nodded only half listening, caught up in his own thoughts. “Good idea.
    We can do all of it.”
    She picked up a crushed beer can and tossed it, hard, into the wheelbarrow to make her point. “I’m glad to have your permission. And I want it kept clean.”
    He made the time to take a good look at her. There was no sense irritating her even though right now he would have loved to stomp all over her queenly attitude. “Yes, ma’am,” Wes agreed grinning and went on about his business. He could feel her eyes on him, at his back. He didn’t mind. It had the effect of standing with your back to the sunshine on a cold winter’s day.
    Why did it infuriate her when he said yes ma’am? It was the way he said it, she decided. Insolent. He had sort of a takeover attitude, a little or maybe a lot of disregard for her even though he claimed he was here to do what she wanted.
    Victoria had enough of that with Buck. “Don’t ‘ma’am’ me, Wes Cooper. If you’re going to use this place, too, then the least you can do is help clean it up.”

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    Joey Light
    Wes turned slowly to survey the room with a lengthy look. “I was hired to teach, not sweep. I’ll get some of the men in here to help.”
    Her fists slapped onto her hips. “Look here, Cooper. Teach yes, not run this entire place according to you. Go on about your business. I can take care of this myself.” Watching him light a cigarette, she fumed. “And don’t smoke in the barn.”
    He looked from the cigarette in his hand and back to her. “I’ve been smoking in and around barns since I was fourteen. I know how to smoke in a barn.”
    Turning his attention back to the pad in his hand, he jotted a few numbers.
    “Oh, not my barn.” She stared at him defiantly, the toe of her dusty boot tapping the floor.
    Earlier, when Buck had explained to him that she was a spoiled brat from some rich family in Virginia, he hadn’t even come close to an actual description.
    They stood there eyeing each other as two prizefighters might before a bout.
    Normally a patient man, Wes shrugged mentally. He might have to work around her but he surely didn’t have to bow to her moods. He tipped his hat and was out the door, completely missing the face she made at his back.

    Later, strolling through town in her new period costume, Victoria bid good day to the tourists and patted the children on the head. She loved her dress. The lace collar curled around her neck and the flounced hem swirled around her ankles. It was yellow with tiny daisies on it and lace down the entire front following the pearly buttons.
    Some days she wore jeans; on others she felt feminine and indulged in the pretty dresses their seamstress toiled over for hours in her trailer. A bonnet was pertly tied under her chin and a parasol dangled from her hand.
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    High-Riding Heroes
    She felt as if she were waiting for the stage to roll in, bringing her husband back from business in the East. She chuckled. She could definitely get carried away with the role playing. But she also noticed it was good for her. She smiled as she looked around at her town. The ambience of this place filled her with a peace she had never known. No tensions. No pressures to perform, to be Marcia Clay’s daughter. Before, there had always been some tea to attend, or a charity to work on. The life-style her mother lived and simply expected that she live also had become a hollow existence to Victoria. At exactly what point in her life she had decided this, she wasn’t sure, but it had hit hard after her divorce from David. Real hard.
    As she made her way toward the hotel, she spotted Wes walking out of the saloon. He, too, had purposely dressed to fool the sightseers…in black, with a white neckerchief flowing in the light breeze. His authenticity almost took her breath away. Colt