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His attempt at humor came out more forced than funny, but she didn’t care. At least he was making an effort. It was a step in the right direction. “You probably have time for another cup.”
He probably had time for two or three. “No thanks. The day’s not gonna wait for me to get a start on it.”
He didn’t have much to worry about, Elizabeth thought, as she headed back to the stove. Especially if he was worried about meeting the hands. One thing was for sure, whatever time he got to the bunkhouse, there would be men aplenty for her husband to meet. Not one cowboy was going to miss meeting the man who’d put Jimmy in his place. A man who could take down a bully commanded respect.
A woman who accomplished the same goal commanded nothing. Bitterness seeped past her guard like a bad habit. She forced the anger back. She’d made her peace with the world when her father had died. From here on out, she was calling the shots in her life and, as the woman in charge, she didn’t want to be at war with her husband. She settled the coffee pot on the iron burner without a clank. “I imagine Jimmy informed everyone that there’s a new boss man and it isn’t Brent.”
“I had plans along those lines, but, if last night’s message didn’t get through, I’ll repeat it this morning.”
Was he planning on beating every hand on the ranch?
She replaced the towel she’d had wrapped around the pot on a peg over the stove. “You could still have problems.” The towel threatened to fall. With a deft move, she flipped it back in place, wishing she could fix everything so easily. “If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll go with you.”
“No need,” he answered. “I’m not so feeble that I need to hide behind a woman’s skirts before passing on orders.”
She gritted her teeth against the humiliation of being dismissed. “I merely thought the common courtesy of an introduction was called for.”
“You women may put a lot of stock in formal introductions, but I’m not courting a gal, I’m running a ranch. Any how-de-do’s that needed saying, I took care of last night.”
“When you beat Jimmy?”
“When I taught Jimmy a lesson on what’s tolerated around here.”
“Jimmy was never tolerated around here.” At least by her. Her father had been a different story altogether.
“Apparently, he didn’t get the message.”
“Apparently.” She grabbed the skillet full of bacon grease and poured the fat into the lard can. The action gave her an excuse not to look at Asa while she tried to make her point without getting him growling again. “Still, there may be some trouble. The men might not take you at your word. If I come with you, I could make sure they know you have my backing. It might ease things.”
“The bunkhouse is no place for a woman.”
She placed the skillet in the wash basin. Patience, she reminded herself while she counted to ten, was a virtue. “I’ve been down to the bunkhouse plenty of times.”
“You have a husband now, darlin’.” A loud grating squeak announced his chair shoving back. “What kind of man would I be if I married up with you and then left you to handle my job as well as yours?”
She bit her tongue. She gripped the cutlery, struggled to hold onto her patience, and tried again. “I don’t mind this one last time.”
“There’s always some testing of the new boss. Might as well get it out of the way.”
“I don’t doubt you’re a capable man—”
“Capable enough that you don’t have to take time from your work to do mine,” he stated flatly.
The last of her fragile hope died that he might want her as a partner. The cutlery hit the dishpan so hard, the sound echoed around the room and water splashed everywhere.
The chair squawked again as he shoved it back under the table. “You mind telling me what you’re so mad about all of a sudden?”
Instead of turning, Elizabeth started wiping up the water. “I’m not mad.”
Not that she was admitting, because then he’d want to know why, and she didn’t think she’d be able to keep from killing him if he laughed when she told him she was as knowledgeable as a man when it came to the ranch. Or worse, that he might want to listen to her opinions. She set to scouring the skillet with zeal.
“Glad to hear it, darlin’, but would you mind gentling your grip on the cookware until I see if we can afford the trip to town to replace it?”
She was banging the pots. Anger, she realized, was a devil of a hard habit to break. She immediately relaxed her grip. “Of course.”
“Now, would you mind facing me and answering my question?”
