Montana Sky

they’re going to raise buffalo or save the mustangs or God knows what.”
    “You don’t like Californians?”
    “Californians don’t belong in Montana. As a rule. They go running back to their restaurants and nightclubs soon enough.” He turned, studied her. “That’s what you’ll do when your year’s up.”
    “You bet your ass. You can keep your wide-open spaces, pal. I’ll take Beverly Hills.”
    “And smog, mudslides, earthquakes.”
    She only smiled. “Please, you’re making me homesick.” She figured she had his number. Montana-born and -bred, a slow, thorough thinker who liked his beer cold and his women modest. The sort who would have kissed his horse at the end of the last reel in any B western.
    But my, oh my, he was cute.
    “Why the law, Nate? Somebody sue your horses?”
    “Not lately.” He continued to walk, shortening his stride to let her keep pace. “It interested me. The system. And it helps keep the ranch going. Takes time and money to build up a solid herd and a reputation.”
    “So you went to law school to supplement your ranch income. Where? University of Montana?” Her mouth was smug and amused. “There is a university in Montana, isn’t there?”
    “I’ve heard there is.” Recognizing the sarcasm, he slid his gaze down to hers. “No, I went to Yale.”
    “To—” As she’d stopped dead, he was well ahead of her before she recovered. She had to scramble to catch up.
    “Yale? You went to Yale and came back here to play range lawyer for a bunch of cowboys and ranch hands?”
    “I don’t play at the law.” He tipped his hat in good-bye and circled around to a corral beside the pole barn.
    “Yale.” She said it again, shook her head. Fascinated now, she shifted the bucket he’d handed back to her and scurried after him. “Hey, listen. Nate—”
    She stopped. There was a great deal of activity in the corral. Two men and Willa were doing something to a small cow. Something the cow didn’t appear to appreciate. Tess wondered if they were branding, and thought she’d like to see how that little trick was done. Besides, she wanted to talk to Nate again, and he was moving to the action.
    She hefted her bucket, strode up to the gate and through it. No one bothered to look at her. They were focused on their work and the cow had all their attention. Lips pursed, Tess stepped closer, leaned forward to check out the activity over Willa’s shoulder.
    When she saw Jim Brewster quickly, neatly, and efficiently castrate the calf, her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted dead away, with barely a sound. It was the crash of the bucket and breaking eggs that made Willa glance around.
    “Well, Jesus Christ, will you look at that?”
    “She’s done passed out cold, Will,” Jim informed her, and earned a bland scowl.
    “I can see that. Deal with the calf.” She straightened, but Nate was already lifting Tess into his arms. “Looks like a handful.”
    “She’s not a featherweight.” He grinned. “Your sister’s built just fine, Will.”
    “You can enjoy that little benefit while you haul her into the house. Damn it.” She scooped up the bucket. “She busted damn near every egg. Bess’ll have a fit.” Disgusted, she looked back at Jim and Pickles. “You two keep at it. I’m going to have to see to her first. As if I’ve got nothing better to do than find smelling salts for some brainless city girl.”
    “You shouldn’t be so hard on her, Will,” Nate began as he carried Tess across the road toward the ranch house. His lips twitched. “She’s out of her milieu.”
    “I wish to hell she’d get back in it and out of mine. I’ve got this one fainting on me, and the other one tiptoeing around as if I’d shoot her between the eyes if she looked at me.”
    “You’re a scary woman, Will.” He glanced down as Tess stirred in his arms. “I think she’s coming around.”
    “Dump her somewhere,” Willa suggested, pulling open the door of the house. “I’ll get some water.”
    He had to admit Tess was an interesting armful. Not one of the bony, pencil-thin California types but a soft, round woman who had her weight distributed just where it belonged. She groaned, and her lashes fluttered as he carried her toward a sofa. Her eyes, blue as cornflowers, stared blankly into his.
    “What?” was the best she could manage.
    “Take it easy, honey. You just had yourself a swoon, that’s all.”
    “A swoon?” It took a moment for her brain to get