The Cowboy And The Debutante Read Online Free PDF Page B

his reputation.
    From the moment Miguel had walked up on Anna last evening in the stables, he’d gotten the impression she was far too delicate and sensitive to deal with any sort of ranch work. She was a pianist, for heaven’s sake. She entertained rich people. Riding the desert range and branding cattle might have been in Anna’s life years ago, but it wasn’t now.
    Throughout the morning Miguel kept a close eye on her. After a couple hours passed, he had to concede, in spite of her hothouse looks, she wasn’t helpless. She handled Ginger with practiced ease and had no problems heading rollicking calves down off the mountains and into the holding pens.
    In fact, she worked with dogged persistence and appeared to know the lay of the land far better than any of the hands. Still Miguel wasn’t ready to admit she belonged out here on roundup. Especially when the work on the ground started.
    By the time the group stopped to eat a dinner of refried beans, Spanish rice and hot tortillas, more than three hundred head of calves had been gathered. After the meal was over, fires were built in one of the pens and branding irons in the shape of a bar resting atop an M were thrust into the hot coals to heat.
    when Miguel realized Anna intended to help with this chore, too, he was shocked. As she made her way toward the work pens, he took her by the arm and led her a few yards out of earshot of the other cowboys.
    â€œDon’t tell me you have the notion you’re going to join the men in the work pens,” he said to her.
    She arched one haughty brow at him. “Of course. That’s why I came out here...to help with roundup.”
    Miguel should have expected her to argue with him. It was probably a rare thing for her to ever hear the word no. “Look, Anna, you’re going to get smeared with manure and dirt. You might even get burned or kicked or worse.”
    She shot him a tired look. “Just because I’ve been living away for the past few years, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten anything about my upbringing, Miguel. Or are you afraid I’m going to be in the way of your cowboys?”
    Miguel didn’t exactly think she’d be in the way. He really didn’t know why he was so opposed to her working on the ground. He only knew he felt a need to protect her.
    Hell, Miguel, he silently cursed himself. You ought to know Anna doesn’t need protecting. She was one of those women who prided herself on her independence and self-reliance. If she ever did need a man’s strength or shoulder to rely on, it wouldn’t be a Mexican cowboy like himself.
    â€œNo,” he said with sudden gruffness. “I don’t think you’ll be in the way. I just thought I’d save you from the nasty work. But if that’s your cup of tea, have at it.”
    He jerked his head toward the pens, where already the calves were bawling with loud protests, and the stench of burning hair and hide drifted on the high-desert wind.
    It was obvious to Anna that he didn’t want her working in the pens. She didn’t know if his attitude stemmed from genuine concern for her safety or to simply be the boss. Either way it annoyed her. From the time she’d been old enough and strong enough to hold a kicking calf’s hocks together, she’d helped her mother and Aunt Rose in the branding pen. She didn’t appreciate an outsider telling her she was no longer welcome.
    â€œLook, Miguel, the Bar M wasn’t always blessed with as many hands as you have working here for you today. When my twin and I were born, my mother and aunts were taking care of this ranch by themselves. And even years later, when I was a small girl, it wasn’t all that much better. I know how to work, and I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty.”
    â€œHave you thought what would happen if you get your hand or finger crushed or burned? Your career would end.”
    Her expression grim,