Linda read their eyes, could feel what they were thinking as she passed them by in her tight-fitting Levi's. They wanted her, but were afraid to do anything because she was the boss, the owner. That alone saved her from the crude remarks she was so used to getting back in Los Angeles. There were the off-color remarks, the groping in public busses, even obscene phone calls now and then in the middle of the night from men too cowardly to face her, telling her how they wanted to put their mouths on her pussy and suck her cunt until she went crazy. How she hated all that, wanted them to leave her alone.

And yet there was another part of her that relished all the attention, riveted her ear to the phone, made her nipples stand up and itch like mad when she felt those fingers sliding over her asscheeks in the bus. Her mother had done her job well, frightening Linda out of her wits at an early age about men… and especially about fucking. But some part of her had escaped those dreary moral lectures. Some part of her was waiting for the right moment to assert itself, to demand to be satisfied no matter what. Linda shivered, rubbing her upper arms with her finger tips. Hank was still standing in front of her, looking a little uneasy. Linda frowned, wiping her sweaty palms on her dress.

"Is something wrong?"

They had just repaired the fencing on the north property. Linda wasn't sure the ranch could stand another major repair bill until the cattle selling began next month.

"Uh… no, ma'am, it's just that… well… there's a dance… kinda a dance, guess, over in town this Thursday. It's lots of fun – all the folks gettin' together and havin' a good, clean time. And… and I thought you might be interested in goin'… with me."

Hank was her foreman, and a damned good one at that. He had a way with the men as well as with the cattle and horses that amazed her.