Cowboy Protector

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Despite herself, caught by his rugged good looks and whipcord-hard body, Annabeth watched for a moment.

  “There you are, fella,” he said, gazing at the critter whose entire face was white. “Or should I call you Ronaldo?”

  And for another moment, she remembered the delicious pleasure of being drawn up against that body, of having her mouth invaded so boldly. Her lips tingled with the memory.

  Suddenly she realized that Neil seemed to be staring at her mouth rather than at his draw.

  “Why are you really here?” she asked softly, turning back to her work so that he couldn’t read her.

  “The calf isn’t enough reason?”

  “I just…just…” The spell wore off now that she wasn’t looking at him. “Just don’t believe it, is all.”

  “All right. I admit it. I’m checking on you. I wanted to make sure you were okay. That do it for you?”

  That did it, all right. That made her mad.

  Scowling, she turned back to him. “I’m not a child, Neil.”

  “I can see that.”

  When he flicked his gaze over her, he made her squirm inside. “Keep your eyes in your head,” she admonished him.

  “I’d rather keep them on you.”

  The double meaning of his statement both flattered and put her off. He was attracted to her. And she’d be lying to herself if she tried to pretend the feeling wasn’t mutual. But the deeper meaning, the take-care-of implication, didn’t sit well with her.

  Having taken care of herself for several years now, Annabeth resented Neil’s interference. Even if his intentions were the best, she didn’t need him.

  She didn’t need a bodyguard.

  She didn’t need anyone.

  “If you’re done looking,” she snapped, “I have work to do.”

  “I’m not stopping you.”

  “You’re distracting me.”

  “Am I?” He lifted one eyebrow.

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I meant you’re annoying.”

  “Annoying how?”

  “Like a barn fly I’d like to go after with a swatter.”

  “I get to you that much, do I?”

  Exasperated, Annabeth clenched her jaw and crossed her arms over her chest. Whatever she said somehow managed to sound like something else. Something more intimate. At least Neil loved to interpret her that way.

  “Just go,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Only if you promise to meet me for lunch.”

  “I already have plans,” she hedged.

  Right, she’d planned on joining her co-workers in the mess tent for a big meal. She hadn’t had much of an appetite at the party the night before. And while that stick-to-her-ribs bowl of oatmeal had done the trick early this morning, her stomach was already growling.

  “How about dinner?”

  “I’ll be busy.”

  “I didn’t name a time.”

  “So name it,” she said.

  “Six.”

  “Busy.”

  “Seven, then.”

  “Busy.”

  “What about five?”

  “Busy. And you have a ride in the calf-roping event this evening anyway. Ronaldo will be waiting for you.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to avoid me.”

  Annabeth clamped her jaw shut. Sometimes less was better, especially around Neil Farrell.

  “I will be seeing you around,” he promised, suddenly so serious that a chill crawled up Annabeth’s spine.

  Now she figured he was going to start in on the visions again. She didn’t know if he was being straight with her or not. Maybe he did see things. Maybe his whole family did. A family of lunatics. No, that wasn’t fair. The McKennas weren’t any crazier than anyone else’s family. Maybe Neil’s story was gospel. Or maybe he was telling tall tales to keep her in line. To control her. Believing that was preferable to believing in visions of doom.

  “If you’re going to spout some kind of warning again…save your breath, okay?”

  “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

  “Well, you can’t. No one can make sure any one else is safe.” A sudden image of her father in a coffin caught her by surprise. “Our fates are already set.” And her brother. She’d tried to save Larry and had failed miserably. “It’s no use fighting.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “I’ve got the scars to prove it.”

  Not literal scars, perhaps, but on the inside.

  “Then why did you try to make a break for it?” Neil asked. “Yesterday, you took an active part in ending the hostage situation.”

  “I—I was afraid.” And angry. “I wasn’t thinking. I told you that.”

  “But you changed things. Fate had nothing to do with it. If you had just left well enough alone, things might have worked out very differently. So I guess your trying to get away was a good thing.”

  Annabeth gaped. He certainly had changed his tune. She didn’t know how to respond to that. Neil was correct, of course. For once, something she had done may have had some positive effect on the outcome of her situation.

  A first time for everything, she guessed.

  Neil backed off toward the barn door. “Later, Annabeth, come see me ride.”

  She didn’t tell him that she would be working the arena that night.

  Nor that he would be hard to miss.

  NEIL FOUND SKELLY at the pony ride late that afternoon, as planned. The timed events would start soon. The rest of the family was there, as well. The triplets and Keelin’s little girl were on ponies and half the adults were accompanying them, and the other half stood close enough to watch.

  “How goes it, cuz?” Skelly asked as he moved away from the group toward Neil.

  “I’m ready to ride.” Neil pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Skelly. “Here are those tickets I promised you.”

  The whole family would be in the audience to see him compete in the first round. Nothing like adding pressure to the one thing that usually relaxed him.

  “I didn’t mean the competition,” Skelly said. “I was referring to Miss Annabeth.”

  “She’s not exactly charmed by me.”

  “Really? Sounds…interesting.”

  “What?”

  Skelly arched an eyebrow. “Well, if things went too smoothly, you’d be bored.”

  Neil shook his head. Why couldn’t things go smoothly? Why couldn’t a man—he—be attracted to a peaceful, agreeable woman. One who was not Annabeth Caldwell? Life would be so simple.

  When he was around Annabeth, Neil didn’t know what got into him. No other woman had ever affected him in quite this way. Annabeth challenged him to use wit rather than logic with her, and yes, subterfuge rather than his normal straightforward approach.

  “So what’s been going on?” Skelly asked. “Anything suspicious? Any more visions?”

  “Thankfully, no.”

  The one of him and Annabeth in a hot embrace didn’t count. Not that Skelly wouldn’t appreciate those details. Neil just wasn’t ready to share them.

  “If I were you, I would be looking over my shoulder. And Miss Annabeth’s. Not exactly an onerous task.”

  “She’s not taking any of this seriously,” Neil complained. “She talks about fate as if it can’t be changed.”

  “It can’t, at least not like you think. I believe we’re given forks in the road, varied opportunities. An open mind helps us to choose the right ones,” Skelly said. “Like women who are right for us.”

  “There you have it, then,” Neil said. “Annabeth isn’t right for me at all.”

  “How do you know for certain if you haven’t tried her?” Skelly’s eyebrow arched at him.

  A private man, Neil was somewhat aghast that his entire family was watching his every move with Annabeth, anticipating some kind of legacy-union. What a man and woman shared should be for themselves alone. Period.

  “Sex isn’t everything,”
he groused.

  “Now, who said anything about sex?” Skelly asked. “You must have it—or the lack thereof—on your mind. What I meant was that a man has to try on a woman to see if she fits him, fills in all the missing spaces in his life. She has to be able to keep him on his toes, keep him guessing about her intentions. Just plain keep him interested.”

  Annabeth certainly qualified for all of the above, Neil thought uneasily. If Skelly was right…

  Then she was in big trouble for sure.

  Chapter Six

  “C’mon, move along, little dogies,” Annabeth singsonged as she and a grizzled stock laborer named Jake herded two dozen calves from the barn to the holding pen directly behind the north end of the roofed arena. She whistled and yelled, “Get moving, you slackers! Yee-ha!”

  “Think you’re in a real roundup, do you?” muttered Jake.

  But as he turned away, Annabeth caught the grin spreading beneath his droopy mustache.

  “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to be a cowboy,” she teased. “Riding the range, chewing tobacco, telling tall tales at the campsite.”

  “You’d make a good one.” He grinned wider. “Boys would like you right fine.”

  The temporary alleyway of piped rail was sectioned off so that the critters moved along a bit at a time, from one pen to another. Jake was working the forward gates, opening them, and Annabeth was pushing the calves through and closing the gate behind them. That way, they couldn’t change their minds and try to head back for the barn. The quick and efficient system was used to move all stock, from calves to bulls.

  The small herd was charging through the last section, when Annabeth sensed someone behind her.

  Whipping around, she spotted Alderman Salvador Lujan, his dark eyes pinned to her. He was barely ten feet from where she stood. Expecting he was going to lay into her as he had the day before, she was creeped out when he bared his teeth in a fake smile and simply walked away.

  Annabeth rubbed the gooseflesh from her arms and closed the gate behind the herd.

  What had that been all about?

  She didn’t have long to think on it before Lloyd appeared. “I need one of the other boys that I assigned here to work as a flank man in roughstock. He needs to go pick a mount and tack up. So Jake will push the calves through from here and you’ll have to handle the arena chute yourself.”

  “No problem,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to check for the alderman.

  But the coast was clear.

  “You’re doing a fine job, Annabeth. You seem to have gotten over what happened to us pretty smoothly.”

  “Haven’t you?” She checked out Lloyd a little more closely. Tension rather than the usual laugh lines radiated from his eyes behind the metal frames. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, sure. That was one hell of a bad deal, though.”

  Especially for the man who died, she thought, though she didn’t voice that opinion.

  Instead, she said, “None of the hostages got hurt, thankfully.”

  “No, not yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lloyd just shrugged and patted her shoulder. “Forget it. Next week it’ll seem like a bad dream.”

  “Dreams fade. I’ll never forget a single detail about what happened yesterday.”

  Sobering further, Lloyd nodded and moved away. “You just keep on doing your usual fine job.”

  Wondering what was troubling the stock contractor, Annabeth left the calves to Jake and slipped inside the arena.

  She couldn’t help but wonder about the dead man though. Had the police identified him? Had they gotten any leads on the man whose description she gave them? Had there been any progress on the case at all?

  Between events, one of the specialty acts was performing. Three riders were racing at top speed around the arena. In sync, they popped up, placed booted feet on their saddles, and within seconds stood atop their mounts with arms fully extended. The Hippodrome Stand was a classic, as was their next move, the Cossack Drag, in which they dropped down, heads hanging to the ground close to the flying horse hooves.

  Knowing the act was almost over, she glanced behind the chute and roping box.

  Cowboys were checking their horses’ tack and their gear—looped ropes and the pigging strings that they’d hold in their mouths until it was time to tie up the calves’ legs. She wasn’t actually looking for Neil, she told herself as her gaze swept along until she found him.

  While most of the competitors seemed tense—she’d caught several indulging in some superstitious good-luck rituals—Neil Farrell was the picture of relaxed. She hadn’t seen him this loose since she’d met him. His Stetson was pushed back, exposing his high forehead. His eyes had a dreamy quality, as if he were on some other planet where only good things happened to people like them.

  The reminder of her own troubles turned her back to the arena just as the specialty act ended.

  Annabeth clapped along with the audience, then moved the first calf into place and took her position at the chute gate.

  While everyone settled in for the event, she took a quick look around to see if Lujan was somewhere in the audience, staring at her, but if the alderman was watching, he was lost in the crowd.

  Looped rope in hand, six-foot pigging string also looped and clenched in his teeth, the first competitor backed his horse into the roping box and then settled behind the rope barrier. A moment later he nodded to Annabeth and she released the calf. The little critter flew forward, taking his lead, the tie around his neck releasing when it hit twenty feet.

  As his tightly wound horse shot out of the box and through the barrier, the cowboy swung the loop over his head and cast it around the calf’s neck. The horse braked, the cowboy hit the dust and the line between saddle horn and calf went taut. The cowboy ran along the line, grabbed the calf by the head and flank and threw him, then trussed three of his legs together. Eight-point-three seconds. A good time.

  But then before the cowboy could remount his horse, the calf struggled to his feet, ruining the man’s chances for this round, at least.

  Moving the second calf into position, Annabeth thought that at least the competition gave all the contestants a fair shot at some winnings. While there was money on the line each night, the big prizes came on the last night. Each calf roper had to compete in five of seven rounds over the course of the week. Scores were cumulative. On that last night, then, the five competitors with the top scores would have a showdown.

  Bringing herself back to today’s competition, Annabeth waited for the calf roper’s nod.

  The second run was successful, if slower.

  “Nine-point-one seconds for Colt Adams!” came the announcement from the booth directly behind the calf chute and over the loudspeakers.

  Annabeth spotted Neil’s family huddled together in two rows in a nearby section of the grandstand. The toddlers perched on adults’ laps, their little faces painted with clown makeup. When Jane waved, it took Annabeth a moment to realize the wave was for her. She waved back as the next contestant settled in place.

  “Next up, a cowboy from Coyote, New Mexico…Bill Hamilton!”

  The competition had a rhythm of its own. Most rides went smoothly, many times were under nine seconds. One calf rolled and the roper had to right it. He went over thirteen seconds. Another roper missed the calf altogether and couldn’t get it back. He left the arena one angry and embarrassed cowboy.

  And then Neil was up on his bay, Cisco. His wolf gaze burned into her until her palms began to sweat. He gave her the nod. She released the calf.

  Watching him was like watching poetry in motion. The way he leaned forward in the saddle, at one with Cisco, loop roiling overhead. The throw…the horse braking, forelegs straight…Neil bounding to the ground…all went so smoothly that Annabeth caught herself holding her breath.

  Neil trailed the taut rope, flanked Ronaldo and tied up his legs. He threw up his hands and smoothly re-mounted.

  “Seven-point-nine
seconds, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer called, all full of enthusiasm. “Neil Farrell has taken the lead!”

  An explosion of applause burst from the audience.

  And Annabeth felt an unexpected swell of pleasure, no doubt due to the fact that she actually knew the man, she told herself. Nothing more.

  Still, she couldn’t help grinning as she lined up the next calf.

  Three competitors to go. The first couldn’t get the calf’s legs together properly fast enough. Eleven-point-seven seconds.

  The next contestant waited too long to throw the noose. Thirteen-point-two seconds.

  The third did his job smoothly. Seven-point-six seconds.

  Three-tenths of a second faster than Neil, Annabeth thought, disappointment filling her.

  “La-a-adies and gentlemen, your winner of the first round of the calf-roping competition…Ty-y-yler Grant! C’mon and give Ty a big hand.”

  As the audience cheered, Annabeth looked back in the readying area for Neil. He was loosening his horse’s cinch, appearing for all the world as if he hadn’t a care. Any other man beaten so close would probably react somehow—throw his hat down or at least cuss a little. But Neil seemed as relaxed as he had at the beginning of the competition.

  Because he figured he would make up the time in coming rounds?

  Or because he just didn’t care about winning?

  Impressed either way, Annabeth thought to talk to him. She wanted to tell him what a great run he’d had, how much she’d enjoyed watching him, how disappointed she was for him. He had, after all, invited her to watch.

  But before she could get back to the readying area, he’d done a disappearing act.

  Inexplicably disappointed, she turned back to the holding pen where the calves awaited a return trip to the barn. She threw herself into her work and vanquished a certain South Dakota cowboy from her mind.

  “I HEAR YOU were counseling Annabeth last night.”

  Neil broached the subject with his cousin Curran’s wife as they trailed the group through the night across the brightly lit festival grounds. Curran being deep into a spirited discussion with his sister, Keelin, Neil had decided to keep Jane company. The late hour had been too much for the little kids, so the adults had decided to leave before cranky progressed to screaming-tired.