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they approached the noonday camp, she could see several cowboys squatting near the supply wagon, shoveling food into their mouths.
    She dismounted. Matt took the reins to her mare and tethered it to a nearby bush near his horse.
    â€œGo on and get yourself some food,” he ordered.
    She cautiously walked toward the cook. He was dipping a ladle into a huge Dutch oven and bringing out stew.
    â€œI’ll have some, please,” she said.
    He turned the ladle to the side to unload its contents. Juice splattered the bowl as the stew hit it. “Son-of-a-gun,” he said.
    â€œThat’s all right,” she told him. “It didn’t make too much of a mess.”
    He scrunched up his face, and she could have sworn the white whiskers on his face bristled. “I was tellin’ you the name of the stew. It’s son-of-a-gun stew.”
    â€œOh.” She smiled slightly. “I’ve never heard of thatkind of stew. What’s in it?”
    â€œWhatever was easiest to reach.”
    She didn’t think that sounded too appetizing. She took the bowl and headed for a nearby tree. She thought about sitting with the other cowboys, but she decided that the less time she spent in their company, the less likely they were to discover she was a girl.
    Gingerly she brought a spoonful of stew to her lips and tentatively touched the tip of her tongue to the sauce. Not bad. Not like anything she’d ever tasted before, but not bad.
    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matt take his bowl and drop down beside the wagon, pressing his back to the wooden wheel. She figured he was just as happy to be away from her for a while as she was to be avoiding him. He hadn’t been unkind during their time together, but he hadn’t exactly been friendly, either.
    She’d just finished the last of her stew when Jake crouched in front of her. She hadn’t seen him come into camp. She was wishing he hadn’t seen her. He was holding a length of rope about two feet long. He extended it toward her.
    â€œTake it and tie a knot for me,” he ordered.
    Licking her lips, she set the bowl aside, took the rope, and expertly tied a knot at its center. Nodding, Jake took the rope and jerked the ends, tightening her knot.
    â€œThat’s a knot all right,” he murmured.
    She started to smile at passing his test, but he slicedhis gaze to her and his harsh scrutiny caused her smile to wither.
    â€œCan you do a double half-hitch?” he asked.
    She slowly shook her head.
    â€œClove hitch?”
    Again she shook her head, wishing she hadn’t eaten her stew so quickly. Her stomach was starting to hurt as she realized she hadn’t impressed him in the least.
    â€œThey’re one and the same,” he told her. “We use them to secure our horses because the knots can be untied quickly. If a horse tugs on the rope with your kind of knot, it’s just going to tighten and you’ll never get it loose.”
    â€œCinnamon is trained not to run off.”
    â€œI don’t care how well your horse is trained, it’s gonna bolt if two thousand cattle are running. Besides, you’re not always going to ride your horse. We’ve got horses trained for night riding. And we have cow ponies that will serve you better when you give your horse a rest. Matt!”
    She snapped her head back, astounded by his abrupt yelling of Matt’s name. Apparently Matt was equally startled, because she saw his body jerk and his bowl went flying. She might have laughed at his reaction if Jake hadn’t had her pinned to the spot with his stare.
    Glowering, Matt got to his feet, picked up his bowl, handed it to Cookie, and trudged toward them.
    â€œWhat?” he asked when he got near enough to be heard without yelling.
    Jake unfolded his body and tossed the rope at Matt. Matt caught it.
    â€œHe doesn’t know how to tie any other kind of knot except that one. Teach him,” Jake