by Jillian Hart
"It's all right, pretty mare." He gave the belt a tug. "Come with me and you'll get good care."
"Yes, you will. You're beautiful, just a dream." Skye's soft soprano rang like a melody, lovely and true. With her heart shining in those golden hazel eyes, she reached up to touch the mare, but the horse was wild enough now to shy away, neighing in alarm.
Heck! It took all his strength to hold her. His bullet wound screamed something fierce and pain shot through him, draining his strength. He shook from pain and weakness but led her forward.
"She's afraid of me," Skye said, apology pinched around her eyes. "But she trusts you."
"Makes no sense, right? Don't worry. She'll take a shine to you in no time."
"You have a way with horses, you really do." Her calico sunbonnet shaded her sweetheart of a face, but not her admiration. That shone brightly. "I've never seen anyone better than you. I'm used to being the one with the special touch when it comes to horses."
"She's been tamed and broken before, that's all. It makes a difference."
"Not that much." Her gaze found his, full of fondness for the horse, he told himself, and not for him.
Although he craved nothing more. His chest filled with bare longing. Desire mixed with emotion, and that was a new one for him. His heart quickened, awake in a place that had been once dark.
Don't think about it, don't think about her and the promise he'd made. And not to her. He tightened his grip on the belt, needing something to hold onto and anchor him. He was not going to fall too fast and too hard for her. That was not in his plan. Yet.
"This way, girl, nice and easy." He led the mare along the edge of the corral, where Skye's hired man bobbed up from cleaning a stall and peered out into the barn aisle.
So, there Claude was. Brennan had a good impression of the fellow with owlish eyes beneath bushy black brows. Claude frowned, obviously distrustful, and backed deeper into the stall and out of sight.
Not exactly the talkative type.
"I can get a box stall ready for her," Skye volunteered, darting into the intersecting main aisle of the well-built horse barn.
"Okay, but I want her at the end of the aisle but not in a stall yet." He slowed to a stop. He'd been known to lead unbroken horses with his touch and nothing more, and he regretted the belt. Wild hearts should never be broken. "We do this gradually. Careful not to frighten her and her baby."
"Okay. She's the prettiest pinto I've ever seen." Skye smiled at the timid and wary foal who stuck close to his dam's side. Easy to see how her slender, tender fingers itched, longing to pet the duo.
"That's right, girl, you're safe here." Brennan laid the flat of his palm against her hot, velvet neck.
Let her feel how calm he was and how there was no danger here, not from him or Skye. He brought her to a stop in the wide aisle, where the closed door blocked her but she had a good view outside over the top of the neighboring stall's half-doors.
Her perfect dishpan head lifted, giving her full attention to the water bucket, so he grabbed it and held it for her.
Her eyes brightened with gratitude and watched him while her little foal delicately slurped, shy of the bucket.
"You sure got a way with horses." Claude leaned against the corner post gazing down the aisle from the shadows. "Let me guess. You're an outlaw."
"I'm no outlaw."
"A horse thief?"
"Never. I'm everything but."
"Claude?" Skye's pain layered her voice, her sympathy as clear as a school bell. "That's a not okay to say, is it?"
"No, it's all right, the man is curious. It's a fair question." Brennan held the bucket while the mare drank deeply. He looked dangerous and he knew it. "What are you up to, Skye?"
"Helping you." She tossed her braid over her shoulder and carried a pail toward them. "Don't look at me that way. I know what I'm doing. I've doctored horses before."
"I'm seeing why you don't have any courting men underfoot."
"That's because they get in the way. I'm always tripping over them."
"So, I see." He almost laughed, something he hadn't done in a good long while. "Good thing I'm not interested, or I would have too much competition. I would never begin to compare with the fine men who would want to win your hand."
"Oh, you stop teasing me. I know quality when I see it. And don't you worry, I'm a confirmed spinster. I like it that way, and that's the way I shall stay. So, your independence and bachelorhood is safe."
That's bad news for me. He tried not to let his thoughts show. Somehow, she could make him forget about the pain from his wound, the troubling tracks in the grass and even his past.
The pinto mare took a moment to study her environment. Water dribbled from her velvet muzzle. She nickered to her foal, who was tempted to run up to Skye, but he darted back a safe distance again. The woman breezed up with a swish and swirl of her elegant skirts, cradling the bucket with both arms.
Adoration filled him against his will. He hadn't expected to feel this way, not at all. The sunlight falling through the doorways and window openings seemed to find her, framing her with vivid, shimmering light, making her the center of his attention.
If he let it, she could command the sun in his world and every beat of his heart. Good thing he was a man in absolute iron control of himself and his heart.
"Hey, pretty mare." Skye's dulcet soprano rang as sweet as lark song. "Look what I brought you. I know you like grain. I've seen you eating with your herd at my field feeder."
The mare blew out a breath, as if considering her safety. She swung her head around, interested in the bucket Skye held out for her.
She laughed, setting the bucket down for the mare. "I guess you do remember me. Go ahead and eat up. This is all for you."
The horse tossed and threw her head, tugging on the belt holding her gently in the aisle, before she plunged her nose into the bucket and lipping up some tasty, nutritious grain.
"Maybe she likes me better now." Skye sparkled up at him, beaming with wonder. "What do you think?"
"I don't think she likes you at all. You're holding her captive in here."
"I'm plying her with grain."
"Bribing," he corrected.
"I can't deny it."
"I can see what you are up to, Miss Skye."
"What do you mean? I'm innocent. I'm not up to anything but helping you. And I'm not falling for her. She is not tempting me with her melted-chocolate sweet-as-a-lamb eyes. Not one bit."
Kindness and humor resonated in the notes of her voice, making her even more beautiful. He grimaced. As much as his bullet wound hurt, it paled when compared to the strength of the feeling that hit his heart when he looked at her.
He'd never wanted anyone like this before. Once, he'd sworn never to let anyone close again. The loss hurt too much. That was a vow he'd kept until now. He didn't know how it would go, if he could be the man she wanted and give away his heart again.
If he failed, then he would have to ride away forever.
Which might be a good idea. Heck, it sure would be safer on his heart and no risk at all. He rolled his eyes. He'd get the mare situated first, make sure he had the family members nearby watching out for whoever was shadowing this place, and then his obligations were met.
But if he were wise, he would ride away from the threat of her. It was smart to keep his heart safe.
But it would not solve his loneliness or the fact that he deserved a good life. And a great wife. He'd earned it. And wasn't she something?
He breathed in her sweet, strawberry scent. The comforting sweetness stuck with him as he grabbed a rope halter off a peg on the wall and ambled back to the mare and colt. That feeling was hard to ignore as he buckled the halter into place.
The mare ate patiently, flinching only slightly but not protesting or pulling away. The comfort she must need, he realized, and his heart went out to her. She'd obviously been someone's horse once.
Perhaps that's why she'd hesitated last night when
he'd tried touched her. She may have been afraid, but she must remember the caring a human being could show her. Maybe that's why she trusted him now.
The mare's whiskery lips worked against the bottom of the bucket to lip up every last kernel. Her breath whooshed out in protest and she stomped her left hoof in frustration.
"It's okay, girl, I'll get you more later." He led her into the waiting box stall. He tied up the mare good and tight. "Thanks, Skye. I thought your hired man would do this."
"It just took a minute. Her wound looks pretty bad."
"I'll know more after I clean it."
"I'm good at assisting. I used to do it for my grandfather sometimes." Skye gestured toward the medicinal supplies, tins, lotions, creams, dried herbs, alcohol and bandages in a basket she'd set out. "You look absolutely ashen. Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine." His answer came as smooth as bourbon, but his jaw was clenched tight as if he were hurting bad.
She hated to see how he was trembling and trying to hide it. "Maybe you should sit down. You don't look okay. You're wobbling."
"Not all that much, besides, I don't quit. I'm not made that way." His gait was only a little unsteady as he crossed the aisle, but his shadow that fell at her feet was straight and strong. Spectacular.
What is wrong with you, Skye? She rolled her eyes. This was typical of her.
Once again, she saw only the good side of him, a common occurrence with her. All she did was constantly trust too much and let down her guard too far.
It wasn't hard to figure out how he'd worked his way in. She'd never forget the sight of him wounded, standing so tall and too tough to deny it, and then unable to do so.
He was big and stoic, strong and powerful. And too humanly vulnerable. His life was just as fragile as anyone's. He was on his feet taking care of others when a lesser man would still be unable to get out of bed.
Which man had shot him? Her stomach bunched up into a painful knot. She had a bad feeling and she couldn't say why, but it felt like a dark cloud on this sunny day.
"Hey! I heard something." She turned her head, listening. Sure enough, there was the clip-clop of an approaching horse. She started down the aisle, heart tripping. "Oh! Someone is coming. Maybe it's the deputy."
But the horse with rider rounding the corner and coming into view on the rise wasn't a lawman. She recognized the white gelding.
Her heart lurched to a stop.
"Howdy, there Miss Weatherby, how do you do? Good day to you." Judson Helms tipped his hat to her. "You and I never got the chance to finish our introduction. You're Skye, and I've seen you around now and again."
"Is that so?" Last night flashed into in her mind, the memory taking her back to the saloon, and to the bruising pain when he'd grabbed her by the wrist. "You were trespassing on my land last night. You belong in jail."
"I made forgiveness, not bail."
"That's too bad." I won't be afraid of you, she vowed, and her chin hiked upward. "You're not welcome here."
"That's too bad. I met your brother a while back when he was in the feed store."
"I don't know anything about that, but I want you to leave."
"Leave? Is that any way for a polite lady to greet a guest?" He swept off his hat. "And I've come to apologize and everything."
The hard corners of his mouth curved into a slick smile. But not even his newly ironed, freshly shaven and bathed image could make up for the fact of his cold, heartless gaze.
"I came to talk to your brother." He planted one gloved hand on his saddle's pommel, leaning toward her. "Or your cousin wouldn’t be still around, would he?"
"No." The words croaked out of her tight throat. "There's no reason you need to talk with them."
"There is a matter I need to discuss with a man."
"Too bad. There's only me, and I asked you to get off my property. You are not welcome here." He chin went up. "In fact, you were responsible for shooting Mr. Mosley."
"Me?" The cold ice in his words seemed to draw the warmth from the day.
A frigid warning trickled down her spine, a foreboding instinct of something bad to come. Something was wrong with this man. "Please leave."
"Not until I apologize and set the record straight. I spotted someone suspicious in the trees when I was riding by and the Good Samaritan that I am, I decided to ride onto your property to investigate. To make sure you, a woman living alone, was safe."
That's a lie. He didn't bother to hide it and she squeezed her eyes shut for just a moment, just a second. She blew out a slow breath and stared down at the green clover at her feet.
Keep your composure, Skye, she thought. Don't let him know that you're afraid.
"Me and my foreman were attempting to make sure no one was giving you a difficult time. That's about when your hired man accosted me, wrongfully disarmed me and had me falsely charged."
The wind gusted, carrying the faint scent of whiskey. He didn't blink. His gaze on hers felt aggressive and amused.
What am I going to do about that? She gritted her teeth, wishing she knew what to say.
"You're a real beauty, Miss Skye." His smirk tugged upward into a smile, as if he were a good guy, someone trustworthy, but the cold look remained in his eyes. "I won't hold this against you if you agree to have supper with me in town."
"Supper?" Her throat closed up. "Did I hear you right? You couldn't possibly mean..."
"Is there a problem?" Brennan interrupted, and his commanding baritone shattered the peaceful morning. He tromped closer, boots thudding on the hard-packed earth, framed by sun and sky. His unyielding shadow fell across her.
"Stranger." Judson paled a little around the edges and his smile slid back into a smirk. "Whoever that gunman was that I'd been tracking had been shooting to kill. I'm relieved you survived."
"It shows, and I'm not so easy to kill. Many have said so." Brennan's hand came to a rest on his holstered gun. "Did you come here for praise?"
"I came here to clear my name and offer my apology as the judge requested." Judson's chin inched up a notch. "So Miss Skye, here, knows the kind of man I am."
"You heard her. You're not welcome here. Move along."
"You aren't long for this town." Judson lifted his lip in disdain. He wheeled his horse around and trotted away, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a sense of fear that would not go away.
"I don't like the man." Brennan crossed his arms over his broad chest, boots braced apart, watching the horse and rider disappear back the way they'd come. "Something tells me that he'll be back."
The steel in Brennan's tone made her shiver.
Good thing the horseman was on her side.
11
"I didn't believe a word he said." Skye turned her back, unable to look at the empty road. "Do you?"
"He's not the type I would ever place a bet on." Brennan's voice held a note of amusement. "He was sure interested in courting you. What are you going to do about that?"
"I have no idea. I'm rather stunned and surprised by this, to be honest. I don't think he's serious about caring about me."
"But I do think he's serious about gaining some advantage."
"And someone who was with him shot you. He could have killed you." She cut her gaze toward the barn and the field beyond where those tracks stayed on her mind. Was there anyway to prove who they were?
She blew out a breath, trying to tamp down her feelings. "Where are you going?"
"I have a horse needing me, and you do too, by the looks of things." He moseyed away, steady and powerful. Was that a depth of caring she heard?
That caring was far too attractive! Don't even think about it, Skye. She could not go relaxing her wariness, she could not just up and let herself feel as if she could lean on him. Just a little.
Depending on a man only got you one thing, and it was almost always a shattered heart, and sometimes more. So she had to remember not to lean on him too much. Not to soften up. Best to ignore him, remain stoic to him and stand on he
r own two feet.
No leaning allowed.
She bit her lip, gazing out at the endless beauty of the ranch land surrounding her. That always bolstered her spirit. She felt stronger. She just had to remember that and hang onto her heart.
The sky stretched out from rim to rim, a robin's egg blue. A few puffs of white clouds sailed across it, slow and lazy. She loved this land.
When she gazed out at her still untamed ranch, she saw her future plans. The fences she wanted built to hem in the herds of grazing horses. Plentiful haystacks rimming the barns, and happiness on this ranch. A real happiness, the kind that truly lasted.
That was worth working for.
"I guess the local law isn't going to be much help." It was the only obvious explanation. "I'm responsible for you. You were shot on my land."
"But not by you. You've got problems, lady."
"More than a few. Do you have any suggestions?"
"You're going to need a hired gun around here, like I said. You've got unexplained human tracks in your fields. You've got someone chasing off the man who could protect you. You've got problems."
"I'm beginning to see that." Longing filled her, so she kept her attention on the land and not on the man, on watching the meadow's sea of grass and not on the handsome man who looked as restless as the wind. "I could hire someone else, but I would never be happy."
"Why not?"
"Because he would never be you."
"Then you have your answer."
"You're trying to tell me that you might stay?"
"Sure. You clearly need a little help."
"I thought you wouldn't take orders from a woman." She planted her hands on her hips. "Did you change your mind about that?"
"Not at all." He bit back a grin, tugged down his hat brim and nodded at the stretching reach of the meadow. "You're going to do what I say."
"There's only one thing I can say to that. No. Not going to happen. I'm the boss around here."
He heard the pain beneath the good humor in her voice. He liked that a lot. He kept smiling. "I'm in charge around here, and I don't work for anyone but the horses."
