High Desert Haven (The Shepherd's Heart) by Lynnette Bonner Page A

ranching, Señor .” She hurried on. “That is, if you are still interested in this job?”
    “I’m still interested if you’ll have me, ma’am.”
    She nodded. “Fine. Why don’t you tell me what qualifies you, Señor ?”
    “First, ma’am, please just call me Jason. You’re making me feel old calling me ‘Señor’ all the time.” His eyes twinkled.
    Nicki sipped her coffee as Tilly placed thick sandwiches before them and carried a little plate to Sawyer. They said grace, and then Nicki responded to his comment. “That’s fine, Jason.” She almost added that he could call her Nicki, but she needed to keep an element of formality in their relationship if the attraction she felt for him was anything near mutual.
    Taking a bite of her sandwich, Nicki tried to quash the guilt she felt at being attracted to this man so soon after the death of her husband. True, she had not loved John, but she missed him now that he was gone, and it felt disloyal to be having these unfamiliar feelings.
    Her next question came out more caustically than she intended. “So, do you have any experience in ranching, Jason?”
    He swallowed his bite of bread and steak and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve just come home from bossing a herd from down near Salem, Oregon, to Dodge City. I’d only been home for a couple of days when I saw the ad for this job.”
    Nicki softened her tone. “Where is home?”
    “Shilo, Oregon. Over in the Willamette Valley. Are you originally from around here?”
    “No. I was born and raised in California.”
    “How did you come to be living here, Mrs. Trent?”
    Nicki debated between telling him to mind his own business and wondering how much of the truth she should tell him. She settled on, “My husband bought this place after we were married.”
    “Well, from what I saw of the place, it could be a fine spread. It just needs a little work is all. There is plenty of water and good access to it so the cattle should do well in the spring and summer. I can see why someone would want the place. How many cattle do you run?”
    Nicki was chagrined. “I don’t know, Señ—” She caught herself. “Jason.”
    “That’s all right.” He waved a hand. “There will be plenty of time for counting in the spring. How many acres do you own?”
    “Five thousand.”
    “How many hands work here?”
    “Two.”
    He blinked. His sandwich halted halfway to his mouth. Setting it back down on his plate, he wiped his mouth with his fingers and asked, “Two?”
    She nodded. “A neighbor, one of my husband’s good friends, has lent me a couple of men to help us make it through the winter, but I only have two hands of my own.”
    “Has the ranch always run on only two hands?”
    “No. In the summer months we usually have up to fifteen, but it gets cold during the winters here and none of the others were willing to—” She felt the blush of regret on her cheeks. Then she threw back her shoulders and raised her chin, meeting his steady gaze. After all, it was not her fault John had let this ranch run into the ground. “None of the others were willing to live in the bunkhouse through the winter.”
    Jason took up his coffee and sat back. Crossing the ankle of one leg over the knee of the other, he sipped the hot liquid glancing into its depths for a moment before he said, “Well, if you give me the job, I will want to make some specific changes, especially to these central buildings. The workings of a ranch run from the main buildings outward, and if you don’t have a functioning barn, corral, or bunkhouse, you don’t have a ranch.”
    Nicki nodded. “I agree with you, Señor. ” Recognizing her slip, she darted him a glance, then pressed on. “I would have started on the bunkhouse already except for the fact that it is winter and the chinking that needs to be done would never dry.”
    He went on as though she had not spoken, his concerned eyes drilling into hers. “But the first thing I’ll do is ride into