Reclaiming Willa

by Delta James

  RECLAIMING WILLA

  By

  Delta James

  Copyright

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Reclaiming Willa Copyright 2019 Delta James

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Coming Soon – Mandy’s Claiming

  About the Author

  Also by Delta James

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  Chapter 1

  Five Years Previous

  The morning sun peeked out over the horizon, the sky losing its inky blackness as pale rays of pink, umber, and burnt orange illuminated and banished the darkness. Willa Reynolds sat atop Gator—her enormous gray warmblood—atop a butte, surveying the landscape below.

  This was Willa’s favorite kind of morning—soft, seductive, and full of promise, the crushing heat of summer giving way to the cooler mountain temperatures of fall.

  She waited until enough light crept across the floor of the geography below for both she and Gator to see well, looking through her binoculars at the sleeping men who had rounded up the wild horses to transport them to slaughterhouses in Canada or Mexico.

  This had become her favorite mode of attack—or, as she saw it, retaliation. She kept an eye out in the Superstition Mountains and the surrounding wilderness for anyone rounding up wild horses who wasn’t with the Bureau of Land Management. She would stalk them until they set up camp and wait. These modern-day rustlers liked to use the dawn to load the horses into their trucks—enough light to see but with little chance of being found out.

  Once the sun crept over the vista, she would liberate whatever herd had been gathered and drive them to freedom. Sometimes, like this morning, the men simply used the natural terrain as a holding pen. Other times, they built an actual corral. Neither option was easier than the other, as she had become adept at negating both.

  She counted about ten mares and a young stallion, a relatively new herd as only a few foals ran at their mothers’ sides. The stallion was a good-sized palomino, but Gator probably had six inches of height and five hundred pounds of pure muscle on him. The mares were not the standard sorrel or bay, but were all buckskins, pintos, and roans. If she could drive them to federal land, they might be taken in for one of the annual roundups to be auctioned off to people who wanted to either let them remain free on their own private range or train them to be riding horses. As much as she loved seeing mustangs run free on the open range, she was enough of a realist to know, with humans encroaching more and more on their grazing grounds, it was safer for them if they were purchased by caring owners.

  Willa nudged Gator with her spur and headed him down the hill. The big gray carefully picked his way, gaining speed as the terrain flattened out. This was not the first time he’d carried his mistress on a mission to save the mustangs. As she neared the bottom of the hill, Gator moved into a trot. When she didn’t rein him back, he picked up an easy lope and headed toward the rear of the herd.

  Willa felt Gator increase his gait and, when she was certain of both their direction and their footing, she smooched to him to have him increase his speed. As he did so, moving into a free-floating and smooth-as-glass gallop, she drew her rifle out of its scabbard and fired. The shot cracked through the quiet morning like a bullwhip wielded by an expert, startling the drowsing herd awake. Those horses who had already started to quietly graze brought their heads up. Those lying down jumped to their feet. The stallion grouped them together and stampeded them toward the far horizon. Gator fell in behind, driving them forward.

  Also startled awake, the men in the makeshift camp were far too unprepared to respond in any meaningful manner. Their horses, tied to a high line, rustled around and tried to break free to join the wild horses.

  Willa took careful aim at the ATVs and trucks parked at the camp. Even with Gator moving at top speed, she was able to take out at least one tire of each of the vehicles. By the time the men could become organized, change tires, and give chase, Willa would have the herd long gone in a different direction and out of harm’s way.

  She gave Gator his head and guided him toward their temporary home. Her destination was a small canyon not located on any of the maps of the area. She would block the entrance to keep the herd from escaping or wandering off and keep them there for a couple of days until she deemed it safe to move them to a more permanent location.

  Willa always experienced a sense of euphoria when she was driving mustangs to safety. Truth be told, she experienced more than a little thrill in taking them away from those who would kill them for the profit they could make. She was a bit of an adrenaline junkie.

  She drove the wild horses on, using Gator’s intimidating size to push the stallion and his herd toward the entrance of the hidden canyon. The wild horses balked at heading down the trail along the ledge, but she moved them relentlessly forward. Once past the edge of the waterfall, a tunnel opened up, and the stallion led his mares into the secluded valley.

  She only hoped, once she had the herd situated and secure, she could return to the small riverside ranch/cabin she shared with Ethan McDaniel, the US Marshal she’d been seeing for the past year. Recently, they had decided to take their relationship to the next level, and Willa had asked Mac to move in with her.

  Willa gave guided, gourmet wilderness tours of the area around her ranch in Sedona, Arizona. The Superstition Mountains, the Grand Canyon, and the entire American Southwest canyon system were within reach from her centrally located home and barn. Mac worked in Scottsdale, so it was a bit of a commute, but he was an area supervisor and had the ability to work from home several days a week.

  Mac and Willa had been introduced by her employee, Mandy Hampton. Mandy’s husband, John, and Mac had been roommates through their training for the US Marshals and were good friends. The happily married couple had tried on numerous occasions to set Mac and Willa up, but both had managed to avoid it, the two dead set against being brought together.

  Then, one night, fate intervened. While returning from an exhausting but enjoyable two-week pack in the Red Rocks area, Willa had a flat tire. Normally, that wasn’t an issue, and it wasn’t one now. What made it difficult was the shoulder on this stretch of the highway was narrow, and her stock trailer had six horses loaded into it. Willa pulled over as far as she could and removed her trailer jack, a device that allowed her to raise the trailer enough to change the tire without having to offload the horses.

  Willa had removed the tire and was rolling it toward the bed of her pickup when she heard the
crunch of tires on the gravel of the shoulder as a vehicle pulled up behind her rig. Despite being a woman alone on a somewhat desolate part of the highway, Willa was well-prepared to defend herself, her horses, and her property. She nonchalantly walked up to the cab of the truck and removed her rifle from the gun rack.

  “Something I can help you with?” she said, turning and bringing the rifle up to bear.

  “Whoa! I saw you broke down and stopped to offer some help. I’m going to reach into my back pocket and bring out my ID.”

  Willa studied him. He moved with elegance and grace combined with something strong and predatory. Taller than average with heavily muscled arms, broad shoulders, and a powerful torso and thighs, well-worn jeans, cowboy boots, and what looked to be a fine cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

  He opened the ID holder that showed a US Marshal’s badge. “I’m Ethan McDaniel, Mac to my friends.”

  “I don’t think we’re friends. Fact is, Mandy thinks you and I have done everything to avoid meeting and becoming friends,” she said, lowering the gun.

  He laughed. “That must make you Willa Reynolds.”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “Can I help you with that tire?”

  “I can manage. I’m used to doing things for myself.”

  “I didn’t ask whether or not you could do it. According to Mandy, you’re part Wonder Woman and part Julia Child…”

  It was Willa’s turn to laugh. “Yes, but trussing that duck up the other night with my Lasso of Truth was a big mistake.”

  “I would think so. It’s hard for a dead duck to tell you anything.”

  “Yes…and rope burns.”

  “Let me put the tire on for you.” He held up his hand. “If I don’t, and John finds out, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “He can go on when he’s in the wrong mood.”

  “That he can.” He walked over and threw the flat tire in her truck bed then turned to grab the spare off the front of her trailer.

  He made short work of changing the tire and then her rig was ready to go.

  “Thanks, Mac. I could have done it, but I’m just returning from a trip, so I’m beat.”

  “Happy to do it, Willa.”

  “We’re about a half an hour from my place. Since you changed my tire, can I offer to make you dinner?”

  “I thought you were exhausted.”

  “I am, but I have to eat, so cooking for two isn’t any more trouble than for one. I need to put the horses up and then have some dinner before I go down to check on them.”

  “I’ll tell you what…I’ll follow you and put your horses away while you make dinner. I don’t know about you, but I hate eating alone. We can eat, and then you can check your horses before crawling into bed.”

  “You know horses?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re a handy man to have around, Marshal McDaniel.”

  Willa quickly did a check of her rig before returning to the cab and pulling onto the highway with Mac falling in behind her.

  Their relationship gained ground pretty quickly. Both found they were well-suited in that they gave each other breathing space but enjoyed spending time together. The sex had been explosive and amazing from the beginning with no insecure or awkward moments. They seemed to understand how to please each other.

  They were both dominant alpha-type personalities—Mac even more so in the bedroom. Willa enjoyed letting him take the lead, and, even when she didn’t want him to, he made sure she was well sated before taking his own release. With high sex drives, they often enjoyed a hard lovemaking session both upon waking and before falling asleep. Willa had never been one to enjoy sleeping in a man’s arms but, from the beginning, being spooned up against Mac had felt right.

  John and Mandy had been thrilled to see their friends hit it off so quickly. Mac and Willa had talked at length about the other couple’s more traditional view on marriage. John was most definitely the head of the household, Mandy content to follow his lead. Mac expressed his opinion that the best relationships worked that way—where one partner was dominant over the other, but was careful never to label the other partner submissive. Willa agreed well-defined roles could form the basis for a more harmonious relationship, although she wasn’t necessarily inclined to believe the man should be the leader.

  They most often stayed at Willa’s because with her livestock it was more difficult for her to be away. An elderly cowboy, Gus, who helped both with her packing business and around the farm, lived in a lovely apartment above the stables and was devoted to Willa and the stock. When the lease on Mac’s loft came up for renewal, Willa had asked him if he didn’t think moving in with her made more sense. Mac had pulled her to him and kissed her thoroughly before agreeing.

  With the horses settled in the canyon for at least a few days, Willa headed home. Once there, Gus greeted her.

  Nodding toward the house, he said, “The marshal know you’ve been out stealing horses again?”

  She laughed. “I’m not stealing them, Gus. I’m helping them find their way to safety, and, no, I didn’t tell him I was going out last night.”

  Gus shook his head. “In other words, you snuck out in the middle of the night and are hoping to slip back into his bed before he ever knows you were gone.”

  “That’s not it at all,” she said, handing him Gator’s lead rope. “Would you mind taking care of him?” She headed toward the cabin. “And it’s my bed he’s sleeping in.”

  “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, missy. At some point, that marshal of yours is going to put the hammer down on you and your nonsense.”

  Willa smiled and said nothing. She quietly entered the house and slipped into their bedroom. The cabin was small. It was the original homestead, and she had worked hard and spent a lot of money turning it into an efficient one-bedroom home. Most people thought she should tear it down and build something more grand to suit her level of income, but Willa liked the fact it had been on this land for more than a hundred years. Besides, she didn’t need anything big or fancy. She’d much rather put her money into her barn or her business.

  As small and efficient as the house was, the kitchen was enormous. Here, Willa prepared all the things she needed to take with her to feed her customers on her camping trips. There was an enormous six-burner stove, lots of prep space, double ovens, plenty of storage, and her big indulgence…a pot filler over the stove.

  While most who entered her home were awed by the kitchen, Willa’s favorite area of her home was the bedroom suite. She’d had it built on piers so that it extended out over the creek running behind the house. It was light and airy and very private, with antique French doors, purchased while in New Orleans on a girls’ weekend with Mandy, that led out onto a private patio.

  She removed all of her clothes and eased into bed beside Mac. She was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his body.

  “And where the hell have you been?” he rumbled.

  “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a ride. You know how that always clears my head.”

  Mac moved away from her and rolled her onto her back.

  “Willa Reynolds, don’t you tap dance with the truth with me. You moved some of those damn mustangs from a place you didn’t think they were safe to someplace you felt they were…didn’t you?”

  She smiled seductively as she rolled onto her side and let her hand trail down his softly furred chest between his well-developed pecs, following the line of dark hair past his naval and down to his fully erect cock. One of the things Willa liked best about Mac was that he always woke up with a hard-on.

  “Wouldn’t you rather fuck than fuss?”

  “What I’d rather is not to reach for you and find you missing. Damn it, Willa, were the horses being held by some of the smugglers?”

  “Held?”

  Mac swore. “I’m going to take that as a yes. Jesus, woman. You and I are going to have to come to a mee
ting of the minds about this bullshit mission you seem to be on.”

  “It’s not bullshit, Mac. It’s important to me.”

  He took a deep breath. “I know it is, baby. But those guys can be dangerous, and you go all by yourself. At some point, they might start playing hardball.”

  “I might point out to you, Marshal McDaniel, that I can take care of myself.” She allowed her hand to trace the base of his cock. “After all, I got the drop on you the first time we met, didn’t I? Mac?”

  “What?” he growled, clearly becoming more aroused with each passing moment.

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  “I’m going to do a whole lot more than kiss you, Willa, and if you aren’t careful, I’m going to start enforcing some rules to keep you safe.”

  Chapter 2

  Mac knew, at this point, arguing with Willa was fairly pointless. She didn’t want to listen, and he would far rather make love to her than scold her and start an argument. But he also understood that the time was coming when he was going to have to take his wild mustang rustler in hand.

  He groaned as she wrapped her hand around his hard cock and stroked his shaft, never quite coming past the head. She wiggled closer to him, and he reached around her to grasp her buttocks and pulled her against him as his cock nudged between her legs.

  Mac brought his mouth down, capturing hers in a passionate kiss. His tongue dueled with hers for supremacy, and he didn’t let up until she’d surrendered to him. He pushed her onto her back and trailed a line of kisses from her mouth down to her breasts. Taking an engorged nipple into his mouth to suck, he was encouraged to feel her body yield to arousal as he tugged and nipped her pebbled peak.

  “Mac,” she sighed his name as she pushed his hand down between her legs.

  “What’s the matter, Cowgirl? You want something more than my mouth on your tits?”

  “Yes, damn it,” she said.