Harry stifled a whoop of joy. He couldn't have gotten a better compliment from Louis if he'd done all the work on all those calves by himself.

He'd won Louis' approval.

Wait until he called his mum, Audrey and Tish tomorrow! He was just too tired to tonight. He could have talked to them in his bunk, but he might disturb the others, and they were probably as dead tired as he was. Tomorrow his loved ones would know he was now a permanent employee with the Rocking Horse Ranch!

Harry, Niall and Leo talked a bit before going to sleep that night. Johnny and Nick were already snoring, and they were both deep sleepers so there was no concern about waking them.

Niall was thrilled for Harry, and the young Irish man could be described as nothing else but pure sunshine and optimism. His blue eyes always sparkled and he was perpetually in such a good mood that Harry sometimes wondered if he was even real. He got along with everyone, never complained, and was a work horse. His frequent, good-natured laugh was a real morale booster at the end of a long day.

Leo was still a little shaky about where he ranked with the other ranch hands, and he was most comfortable with Harry, Niall and Johnny. Nick was pretty much the quietest one, keeping to himself at times, but a hard worker and was always pleasant. They were all, however, very supportive and glad that Harry would be staying.

Shadow Bear had growled when Leo had walked into the bunkhouse tonight. Leo had felt a little unwelcome, maybe even a little out of place, even though it hadn't been a person showing hostility, but the ranch dog.

"She's just not used to you yet, Leo," explained Harry. "You're still new."

Leo shrugged. "I guess."

"Are you sore?" asked Leo of Harry.

"Yeah."

"I worked in Montana for a couple of months before I stopped bein' sore," remarked Leo. "So many different jobs on a ranch that use different sets of muscles."

"I heard you were there for two years."

"Yeah, since I was eighteen. Then they stopped makin' enough money on cattle to keep all their hands. I didn't have much seniority, so I was one of the first to go. Cattle ranches don't cut it anymore unless there's money to upgrade the stock and such."

"That's what I heard. I guess Louis has the funds to do whatever he needs to."

"Yeah, I was right glad to get hired on here. I really liked the fact that he's got underground irrigation, so he don't have to worry about the grass dyin' when there's a drought. I hear there's a man-made creek out a couple of miles, too. Johnny said sometimes they go swimmin' on their days off when it's hot."

"Yeah," volunteered Niall. "It's real pretty there, and it's kinda a nice escape to swim for a while."

"That sounds nice. I love to swim," Harry suddenly couldn't wait to visit the creek. But for now, there wouldn't be much time for anything, at least until the spring roundup and spring birthings were completed.

Niall told them about how he'd left Ireland to come to the United States to work on a ranch, something he'd always wanted to do. His story was a lot like Harry's, as he'd looked for a while before finding the Rocking Horse Ranch. He'd had some experience in Ireland, so he hadn't been as green as Harry.

Next they talked about going into town. Niall told them about his favorite bars. Being Irish, Niall liked to "have a pint or two," as he put it, usually on a Saturday night. Niall told about how difficult it was to find a willing woman, and complained that the women all perpetually had their eye on Louis.

Harry felt a little sick to his stomach, imagining the females flocking to Louis, and Louis picking one that he fancied, and . . . he couldn't finish the thought.

Branding for the three remaining days before it was finished had Harry so sore, stiff and weary every evening that he wondered if it would ever end. He'd become good at it though, and next year he might even be of some real help.

Working so closely with Louis during those days was bittersweet. No matter how the calf struggled, no matter how exhausted he was, no matter how pressed for time they were, Harry's heart never failed to pound when Louis was near. And that was most of the time.

Harry knew that only a superhuman show of willingness to throw himself into his work would prove his dedication to his job at this point, since he didn't yet have the knowledge and skill that was required. So he put everything he had into letting the cowboys see he was not afraid to push himself as hard as he had to. He needed this job—but just as important, he wanted this job. He didn't want to work anywhere else. This was what he'd dreamed of all his life, and damned if he was going to lose it. He was so afraid the others would think he wasn't ambitious enough that he found things to do every second of the work day.

The weather was slowly becoming warmer, and often Harry would find barely enough time between calves to swipe at his face with his sleeve to keep the sweat from running into his eyes. He knew his entire face, by the end of the day, was covered with the red Texas dust that reminded him of terra cotta. He wouldn't allow himself to look in the mirror before he took his nightly shower. He was vain—he had to admit it. He liked to look his best at all times, but this ranch work just did not allow that. But, strangely enough, no matter how dirty Louis was, he never failed to look perfect to Harry . . .

How very frustrating that man was. Even coated in sweat and dust, he looked good enough to eat. Even smelling like horses, leather, calves and manure, Harry still breathed him in because he had his own unique scent that kicked Harry's hormones in.

At lunch one day, Louis approached Harry and sat beside him on the bench to eat his sandwich. The others were inside the bunkhouse, eating at the table. Harry had settled out here to enjoy the pleasant weather, and when Louis appeared, he stiffened involuntarily. The first thing that came to mind was that the boss wasn't happy with some facet of his job performance, and was going to give him a bad verbal evaluation. This was still his biggest fear—that he wasn't good enough, even though Louis had officially hired him on full-time.

Harry steeled himself for Louis' characteristically undiplomatic, straightforward words of condemnation. He saw no other reason for the rancher's approach.

"Well, Harry," Louis drawled, leaning back on the bench, tossing a leg over to rest an ankle casually on his knee. How Harry envied him . . . always so driven on the job, yet somehow magically able to just turn it off when not on duty.

Out with it! Just go ahead and fire me!

That voice inside Harry's head was so sure what was on Louis' mind, even though Louis had previously let him know in no uncertain terms that he was happy with his performance. Harry knew it was unreasonable to feel this way, but he had such a fear of ending up the way he'd started when leaving California.

"Chill out. You're doin' very well. You're catchin' on, and workin' just as hard as the others. Well done. In fact, the others admire you a lot. So do I," Louis shifted, looking a tad uncomfortable. "I know no one says much in the way of praise, but if I'm not yellin' at you, and the others aren't gettin' all pushed out of shape, take that as a good sign."

Well, he wasn't going to fire him. At least not right now. Not until he really messed up. But all that mattered was that, for now, he still had a job.

Harry couldn't have suppressed a smile if his life depended on it. He was suddenly able to swallow his bite of sandwich, which had become practically stuck in his throat at Louis' approach.

"Thanks," he said.

"I've seen you practice your ropin', and you even have an admirer," Louis smiled.

An admirer?

"Leo. He either has the hots for you or he's got a bad case of hero worship."

Harry blushed—something that hadn't happened in a while.

"I know, I know," Louis smiled. "You don't swing that way."

Harry needed more long sleeved shirts and Wranglers. Nora, the housekeeper, washed all the ranch hand's clothes twice a week, but Harry wanted several more pairs so he'd have plenty in case of mishaps, like getting blood on his clothes when doctoring livestock. Also, he'd often been flung into ripe piles of dung by the feisty animals. It happened to them all, but with Harry, it was more often because he was inherently clumsy. It was now a running joke among the hands that Harry could find something to trip over even if absolutely nothing was there. Well, perhaps a speck of dust.

It was nice to always have fresh clothes waiting, even though they wouldn't stay fresh for long. Harry needed both work shirts and a few more nice shirts for special occasions. So when Johnny mentioned he was going to town on Saturday, Harry asked to go along. Johnny had no problem with that-he was always happy to have Harry along. Louis had given them another weekend off, claiming they'd earned it by accomplishing the spring round-up in record time.

Johnny was the only one of the cowboys Harry felt truly comfortable talking with. And even though he was getting to know Niall and Leo much better, it was Johnny that he felt almost as if he'd known all his life.

The others were a bit rough around the edges. They teased each other mercilessly, and now that Harry had been around a while, they sometimes included him in their taunting. It was all in good fun, and Harry knew it meant they had accepted him, but he had always tended to be on the overly sensitive, reactive side.

On their way to town in one of the trucks, Harry expressed to Johnny how Nora, the housekeeper, was very reserved with him.

"Oh, she's that way with everyone. She's a tough ole' gal, kinda a loner. I reckon she's a little bitter too."

"Why's that?" Harry felt comfortable asking Johnny, as the man never seemed to take offense. His manner was always inviting, and he gave Harry the confidence to ask questions.

"Well . . . " Johnny leaned back, stretched his back, and settled more comfortably in the driver's seat. Harry smiled. Johnny was a true Texan, pondering things before he spoke, in no hurry to force anything. Conversation and ideas had to flow naturally. But, like Louis, he was deceptive; when working, he was focused, didn't dawdle, and got the job done efficiently. Harry could see clearly why the two men got along so well, working close together, almost reading each other's thoughts. They complimented each other.

"Nora was married for 'bout twenty-five years, I believe. Then her husband got sick somethin' awful, and died of cancer. They was never well-off, but they got by. When he died, he left a buncha bills Nora didn't know about; you see, he'd always taken care of their finances. So after he was gone, she found she had to sell their home to pay off bills, and she was left with nothin.' I reckon that may be why she's so remote-like. She came to the Rockin' Horse Ranch years ago lookin' for a job to support herself."

"Do you think she's happy here?" Harry wanted to know.

"Oh . . . I 'spose she is. Sure seems to enjoy keepin' the house in shape. Gits along good with Cookie. Sometimes I wonder if Cookie don't have a bit of a crush on her." Johnny smiled. "When he's not busy cookin,' I see him followin' her around a bit. Cookie's never been married, ya see. I think he's right shy around women. Took him pert near five years to sidle up to Nora a little."

Harry smiled, enjoying this bit of gossip. "Do you think Nora likes him too?"

"If she does, that woman'd never admit it," Johnny laughed. "He's a few years younger 'n her, I think. But looks like it don't bother him a bit."

Harry took full advantage when Johnny went into a feed store to order a massive amount of fly spray and other incidentals needed on the ranch. Harry swept into a department store and was lucky enough to find three shirts that were just what he needed for work. He also picked up two more pair of Wranglers. While he was at it, he got two dress shirts for when he went into town—to a bar, club, or wherever it was the others usually went.

Coming out of the store, and looking around to see if Johnny was about, Harry spotted a masculine figure lounging against a pole about thirty feet away. The man was openly looking at him, and the back of Harry's neck tingled.

The cowboy wasn't even trying to conceal his obvious gaze. The Stetson was pulled low over his eyes, but it only took Harry a moment to know who it was. Relief flooded his veins, and the tingling turned into anticipation.

Louis.

He had looked so sinister, so forbidding. Pushing himself away from the pole with a careless shoulder, Louis strolled over in Harry's direction with an ease that looked a little bit too casual, too slow. But Harry somehow caught the eagerness behind the feigned indifference. Just a feeling in his gut.

Oh, how he loved the way the rancher walked! He had thought at first that Louis' swaggering was just a tough act. But he'd soon found out that Louis swaggered most of the time—even when concentrating on work. It gave him a bad ass ambience, and unfortunately, Harry liked it . . . too much.

It was what had attracted Harry initially at the Jubilee. Loose-legged, casual, yet somehow with a dangerous flare. Only a man totally at home in his own body could walk like that. He could have jumped right out of the pages of the kind of Old West novels Harry fancied reading. He would have looked completely natural with a gun belt, toting a couple of .45 six-shooters.

Harry's heart started its crazy thundering, the rush in his ears the moment he'd recognized Louis. Furious with himself, he reminded himself quite sternly that this was only a man he worked with. His boss. Nothing else, nothing more.

This reaction his body experienced continued to baffle him. How could anyone affect him like this? And on a moment's notice too. He had been enjoying himself, as carefree as the spring day until the man had appeared.

Then just like that, his insides had gone to jelly, and he was going to pieces. All at the same moment, he felt his cock twitch and harden, and he wanted to fall over his own feet, or start laughing hysterically, like a daft man, or maybe even run in the opposite direction to escape Louis.

But miraculously, he did none of those things. Except sport a boner. He stood his ground anyway, and watched the rancher get nearer and nearer, those cerulean blue eyes mysteriously shaded by the brim of his hat, a seductive smile forming on his lips.

Even the sound of his boots clacking on the pavement sounded sensual. And nerve wracking. Blue denim shirt that matched his eyes, open at the neck, clean black Wranglers, silver belt buckle, a blue bandana tied around his neck and dress boots; not the scuffed ones he wore at work.

Heavens! What was that grin about? Harry couldn't see his eyes clearly, so he couldn't be sure if it was genuine or mocking. And he had a feeling Louis liked it that way.

He must know how alluring he is.

Louis, however, couldn't see Harry's feelings, and what a blessing that was for Harry. Well, maybe he saw the swelling in Harry's pants, which was Harry's only sign of susceptibility. He just had to hope and pray it wasn't obvious.

If Louis had touched him though, it would have opened a can of worms. The man could have molded Harry any way he wanted to.

"You here with Johnny?" Louis asked.

"Yes. I left him at the feed store orderin' fly spray, and I was in the department store so long, he must have wondered what happened to me. He must be 'round here somewhere. Don't know where he is. I got some work shirts and some more Wranglers."

Realizing he was rambling, Harry caught himself from letting any more useless words tumble from his mouth.

Louis' infamous stone-face had returned. He just stood there quietly, and made Harry feel like a moron. How anyone could deal with this man when they didn't know what he was thinking was beyond Harry's comprehension.

But, mercifully, it didn't last long. Harry watched on as Louis' impassive façade dissolved, his eyes roaming over Harry's body unconsciously. Harry wasn't wearing his usual work duds. He was wearing one of his nicer Western shirts, the top two snaps left undone. Nothing escaped Louis' eyes.

Feeling unbearably self-conscious, Harry cleared his throat and pretended to scan the street for Johnny, the lust closing in on him like a stifling cloud. But nothing would erase the sensation of Louis' blue eyes piercing his emotional armor.

When he could stand the silence no longer, even though it had only been a matter of seconds, Harry spit out what first came to mind.

"So, what are you doin' here in town?" He immediately regretted it—it sounded as if he were being nosy.

But the unpredictable Mr. Tomlinson seemed to jump on the opportunity to keep the conversation going.

"I'm just killin' time until the barn dance tonight." With effort, Harry dragged his eyes back to the man's own eyes. Harry was jolted. Louis had thrown a bombshell. No one had even mentioned a barn dance. Considering how bored the ranch hands were on their days off, it seemed like someone would have said something.

"I didn't even know about it." Harry realized his voice sounded a little on the whiny side. Then it occurred to him that maybe the hands didn't want him to know about it. But why? He couldn't think of any reason why they would want to keep it a secret from him. But it was true that Louis had willingly told him, so there was no reason to jump to conclusions. He told himself this to keep from feeling hurt that he hadn't been included.

"The boys were gonna surprise you. They were just gonna bring you over in the truck, and not tell you where they were goin'. They haven't told Leo either. It's kind of a tradition, even though now that I think about it, I reckon it is kinda lame."

"Why were they going to do it that way?"

"'Cause there's not much to do around here. It's a treat for the hands, and they figured it would be for you too." Even though Harry was not thrilled at the idea of dancing with women, he still felt a pang of excitement at the idea of attending his first function in Pecos, Texas. Other than the Huck Finn Jubilee, that was. A barn dance did sound kind of fun.

"I appreciate your forewarnin,' Louis. What time is it?"

"The dance? Starts at eight. Usually goes 'til midnight or so." He shifted, and began to scrape at something invisible on the pavement with the toe of his boot. Harry sensed indecision or maybe restlessness, he wasn't sure which. He waited, trying not to look eager to see what was eating at his boss.

Harry hated that Louis might scuff his nice boots with the way he was dragging the toe on the cement. It made him cringe. God, but he worried about the weirdest things!

"Don't ruin those fancy boots," he piped up without any forethought.

Louis looked up, somewhat jarred. Then he smiled slowly. "Yeah . . . reckon you're right."

After another endless pause, Louis lit up a cigarette with practiced ease. The movements his hands made somehow soothed Harry. So matter-of-fact, so smooth. Harry wondered if he really wanted a smoke, or if he was just doing it to occupy his hands.

The younger man smelled the freshly lit tobacco, watched the rancher shake out the match and awaited whatever it was Louis was apparently wanting to announce. He was taking so long to say whatever was itching to escape his lips that Harry couldn't imagine what could possibly be so stressful.

Squinting at him through the smoke, Louis clamped down on the butt with his very white, even teeth, then yanked it from his mouth and rested his hand holding the cigarette against his thigh. He was leaning against a post again. Probably an old habit.

The casual ease of his motions made him appear mysterious and daunting. And exasperating as hell.

"There's gonna be a lot of guys there." He said the words as if it told the whole story—everything that was churning in his head. As if Harry should automatically know what he was talking about. His gaze penetrated Harry's, as if he was issuing a warning.

So what? Harry was confused.

What did he expect him to say about that? What was the point?

If Harry was sassy like Louis himself, he'd come back with a witty, sarcastic remark.

What, do you think, I'm gay?

Now, that would probably have bowled Louis over. But Harry had never learned the art of bantering, especially with someone intimidating like Louis. He had been gently raised. Perhaps too gently. He wasn't prepared to hold his own. He waited, but the rancher said no more, just continued his unsettling stare.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Harry was almost afraid to hear what else Louis had to say. Even if he had been flippant enough to pin him down and make him explain, Louis was his boss, after all. He just wished he could match his degree of confidence, and not always be so timid and insecure and afraid to speak up.

"You might have to be a little careful. Some, just a few, of those cowboys seem to cotton to your type."

What was he implying? That Harry was feminine? Or worse, had he caught on that Harry was gay?

"Be careful?" Harry played dumb, hoping to God Louis didn't suspect his carefully guarded secret.

Right then, Johnny appeared, putting an end to their exchange.

"There you are! Figured I'd never see you again. What'd you do, get lost?" he asked Harry.

Louis and Johnny slapped each other on the back.

"Ya look all gussied up, Lou," Johnny appraised the rancher and whistled. Louis blushed, a rare event. Even under his bronzed tan, pink effused his cheeks and neck.

"Lookin' forward to the dance tonight?" Johnny added, then instantly clapped his hand over his mouth.

"It's alright, Johnny. I already told him about the dance. Figured he could use a little warnin'."

A look passed between Johnny and Louis that told Harry Johnny knew just what Louis was alluding to.

Johnny nodded solemnly. "Ah, he don't have to worry with us around."

"Yeah, I guess between you and me and that little Romeo Leo, we can keep Harry outta trouble."

Still not completely understanding what they were implying, Harry kept his thoughts to himself. The real problem was, he needed protection from Louis' charm.