Knight in a White Stetson Read Online Free PDF Page A

gazing studiously at the agricultural newspaper in front of her. “Oh, right. Breakfast. There’s muffins in the oven, usually, and coffee on the counter. Cups are on the shelf right above. If you want anything else, you’ll have to fix it yourself.”
    “This is fine, thanks.” Henry brought the warm muffin pan from the oven and set it on the table in front of Calla and her father. He moved to the cupboard and took out a mug. “Coffee?” he inquired of Jackson.
    “Well, thank you, young fella. I believe so.”
    Henry filled both mugs, handed the older man his coffee, and sat down next to Calla. He grabbed a muffin from the pan and took a huge bite, tugging a piece of the paper from under Calla’s elbows with his free hand. She gave him a sidelong glance.
    “Careful,” she said, “Cowboy coffee.”
    “I think I’ll be okay,” Henry said, taking a gulp from his cup. He sputtered and coughed, bits of muffin flying out of his mouth onto the table. Calla, still studying her paper, reached out and absently smacked him hard between his shoulders.
    “Told you.”
    “I’ll believe you next time.”
    “I’ll bet.” Calla sipped her coffee to hide her smile. Henry got up and ripped a paper towel off the bolder.
    “Well, kid—” Jackson, oblivious to the exchange, faced Calla “—what’s on the schedule for today?”
    Calla looked up at her father. He’d asked the same thing of her every morning for the past three years. Jackson was competent, smart, Calla thought, even brilliant in his own way, but he was incapable of running the ranch on his own. Mostly because, although he loved Calla, and had loved Calla’s mother, he was no McFadden, and did not love the ranch. Calla knew it, Jackson knew it and Calla’s mother had known it, which was why she’d left the ranch to her only daughter. Calla had been just twenty-one at the time, but had already been making many of the decisions since Benny died. The ranch was her mother’s to give, and she wisely chose Calla over Jackson.
    “It’s been in my family for over a hundred years now, honey-bunch,” Judy McFadden Bishop told her before she died. “I know you’ll keep it in the family for another hundred.”
    “I thought we might cut the upper fields today.” Calla turned abruptly to Henry, who leaned against the counter by the coffeepot, watching her. “You can run a swather?”
    He nodded, his eyes on hers. She turned back to her father. Was her stomach going to flutter like that every time she looked at the man all summer? Well then, the sooner they got the hay up and packed him off to Two Creek, the better.
    “I’ll put Henry on the swather and get Lester to hook up the baler for the field we cut Thursday. Should be dry enough now.” She drained her coffee mug. “I’m taking a horse up to the lake and see if I can’t find that wild cow of Charlie’s. Russ Thompson from the Bureau of Land Management called yesterday morning and told me he saw her up there.
    “And if you wouldn’t mind, Dad,” she continued, clearing her throat, “I’d like you to take a little time today and see if you can’t straighten out that mess out in Lester’s shop. Henry started on it this morning. It’s really gone to hell, I have to admit, and since we’re heading hard into farming today, I want to have things at least clean enough where I can find a damn wrench if I want one. Excuse my language.” She looked at Henry, who gave her a quizzical smile.
    “I’d be happy to, darlin’,” Jackson said, getting up from the table and ruffling a hand across the top of her head. “Poor old Lester, he sure will be mad when he comes home to a clean shop, though. I won’t step in when he tries to kill you for it, you know.”
    Calla caught his hand and gave it a quick peck. “I know, Dad. I’ll take my chances.”
    “You always do.”
    Henry watched Calla as she released her father’s worn hand. His hands were steady on his coffee cup and his eyes were calm, a