LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter Three

      For a week she steered clear of him. Keeping the books was a daily task, one she found more to her liking when being in the black seemed more of a possibility. But discovering a bill of sale tucked inside the cavern of her ledger brought her out of the desk chair with all flags flying.

      “Damn, damn, damn,” she muttered beneath her breath, setting off for the barn.

      “What happened to being partners?” Chloe asked. Her anger held on a short leash, she faced J.T. down in the central aisle of the big barn. Lowery was in and out of the tack room, and if she knew anything about it, he was listening for all he was worth. Apparently J.T. shared the thought, for he only glared at her for a moment, then gripped her elbow and shuffled her toward the double doors.

      “We’re not going to argue in front of the men,” he muttered between gritted teeth. “If you’ve got something to say, I’ll listen to it out here, without an audience.”

      “If?” The single word was all she could manage for a moment, and she inhaled deeply. “You know damn well I’ve got something to say.” Her hand was fisted around a yellow slip of paper, and she released it, allowing it to flutter to the ground at his feet. “Would you like to explain just how you figured we could afford a new stallion right now? And what we needed one for, anyway?”

      “I didn’t ask you to put out one red cent,” J.T. said calmly. “I bought him.”

      “And I’m supposed to write that amount on your side of the ledger book, I suppose,” she hissed. “Which gives you the edge, having invested your own money.”

      “Chloe, you’ve got mares dropping foals out there that aren’t going to amount to a hill of beans. They’re only good for pulling a buggy or carrying kids back and forth to school. Wait till you see this stud. You need new blood, or your herd is never going to be worth anything.”

      “What’s wrong with using the stallion you rode in here with?” That his words were true wasn’t the issue. Her father’s stud was old, and he’d been interbreeding over the past several years. But buying a new stallion was a major investment, and now J.T. viewed the news of the horse’s imminent arrival as if Christmas were coming at the end of a lead line.

      “I told you already. His bloodlines aren’t what we need. We’ll use him, too, but this new stallion is almost guaranteed to give us a herd of horses that will make some real money a couple of years down the road.”

      “You planning on being here that long?” she asked tartly.

      His jaw clenched, as did his hands, and she wondered for a moment if she might not have pushed him a bit too far. “Are you bein’ obnoxious on purpose?” he asked, “or is it just your natural disposition?” His hands were hard, callused and strong, and when he used one of them to propel her toward the house, she had no choice but to march beside him. He turned her around when they reached the back porch and deposited her on the top step.

      “I don’t like being manhandled,” she told him, snatching her arm from his grasp and sitting down. “There’s not a man big enough to push me around and get away with it.” And yet it seemed he had. For the moment at least.

      J.T.’s mouth thinned and twisted, his eyes sending sparks that should have warned her off. He stood tall before her, anger oozing from every square inch of his being. “I’m not pushing you around, and I didn’t leave a mark on you, Miss High-and-Mighty.” Bending a bit, he peered into her face. “But I’ll tell you one thing right now. You won’t give me orders when it comes to spending my own hard-earned money.”

      “You had no right to—”

      “I had every right,” he boomed. “The damn horse was on the auction block. If I hadn’t bid on him and bought him outright, I’d have missed the chance to get a stud like that. And like it or not, he’s exactly what your herd needs.”

      “And what’s he going to do for my mares? Put thoroughbred fillies and colts in their bellies?”

      J.T. shook his head. “Better than that, lady. We’ll have a pasture full of paints within five years, horses that’ll be known throughout the state once we get them trained. Do you know that any cowhand worth his salt will pay fifty dollars more for a paint than a solid-colored horse?”

      A glimmer of interest nudged her as his words made inroads on her aggravation. “Why?” she asked bluntly.

      “Because a well-trained paint is the best cow pony you can buy. The Comanches have been hunting buffalo with them for years. We’ll have buyers waiting in line.” He turned to sit beside her, enthusiasm vanquishing his anger, and she listened intently, excitement growing as he spoke.

      “We’ll use the best of your mares for breeding, and concentrate on selling off the stock we don’t need. There’s always a buyer around for everyday mounts, and by the time we weed out the bottom of your herd, we’ll have a crop of foals dropping next spring

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