The Cowboy’s Bride Collection: 9 Historical Romances Form on Old West Ranches
Page 14
“He doesn’t deserve my forgiveness.” She held herself stiff. What did her father know? He hadn’t been the one who held Keira while she sobbed. Sure, she’d put on a good front when she agreed to marry Stuart, but Cait knew the truth.
Hot wind blew a scatter of dust past them. Cait covered her nose to keep most of the grit out. In the distance, she could see the horses search the pasture for a few particles of graze that hadn’t died off. From the road leading to the ranch buildings, she could hear the creak of an approaching wagon. She refused to turn and look, figuring who this had to be.
“I know you don’t want to do this.” Her father stuck his hands in his pockets, his shoulders bowed as if with the weight of the world. “The thing is, I need you to cooperate. I’m telling you this, Caitie. You either work with Jonas, and be agreeable, or I’ll send you somewhere they’ll teach you to be a lady so you can find yourself a husband.”
She gaped at him. He wouldn’t do that. Would he? He’d often stated how he regretted not sending his girls to finishing school after their mother died. Keira, the oldest, had learned enough from their mother. Cait had resisted every effort to teach her to be a young lady. She preferred to follow her father everywhere, even though she was only seven when her mother passed. At the time, her father didn’t have the heart to say no to the forlorn child. She figured he regretted that decision now.
Jonas slapped the reins against the horse’s rump. The light breeze blew dust up his nose and he sneezed. The wagon creaked and groaned worse than his grandpa getting out of bed in the morning. Up ahead, he could see the track leading to the Sullivan ranch. He thought about stopping to pray, but he’d done that several times already today. He needed to face the ire of Cait Sullivan. For sure, there would be plenty.
As he turned the team into the lane, they picked up their pace as if they knew the end of the journey was close. He’d planned to ride out here on his gelding. Instead, he’d tied his saddle mount to the back and had driven goods from the mercantile out to the ranch. The heavy wagon dragged like the weight of guilt he’d carried for the past two years. It was time to face Cait and ask her forgiveness. If she didn’t put him six feet under first.
Any hope that he might be able to settle in before a confrontation faded when Jonas spotted Cait and her father in the shade beside the barn. Angus Sullivan could be one of the most intimidating men Jonas had ever met, but Cait, at almost a foot shorter and much slighter of build, stood toe to toe with her father. Hands on her hips, strands of red waves lifting on the breeze, she made a magnificent sight. A sight—if his plan worked—he would have close for the rest of his life.
His team must have scented other horses. They tossed their heads and the harness jangled. Cait and her father swiveled to stare at him. Cait’s chin jutted out. He could almost see sparks shooting from her eyes. She must have just been told he would be working with her. Jonas figured Angus waited until time for him to arrive. That way Cait didn’t have the chance to go for the rifle. He smiled and waved. Cait stiffened until she mimicked the overstarched shirt of a city slicker.
“You.” Cait’s lips compressed to a thin line as Jonas pulled the team to a halt.
“Caitie.” Angus’s low growl could barely be heard, but Cait’s chin jerked up. She didn’t take her eyes from Jonas.
“Didn’t expect you to bring a whole wagon.” Angus stepped forward to shake Jonas’s hand as he jumped down.
“Cartman, at the mercantile, heard I was coming out here. He had this delivery for you.” Jonas gestured at the wagon. “Said he’d be by for the wagon tomorrow.”
“What did you order?” Cait sidestepped past Jonas as if she feared coming too close to him.
“Some hardware, groceries, and I had your sister order some new curtains for the house.” Angus peered into the wagon, apparently oblivious to the look of horror on Cait’s face. “You can put them up later today. Jonas can carry them in for you.” With that, Angus winked at Jonas, tipped his hat, and strode away toward the barn. “Caitie, show Jonas where he’ll be bunking.” The words drifted back over his shoulder. Jonas wondered if this had been a planned retreat on the part of Angus. He bit his lip to keep from smiling at the joke Angus played on Cait.
“I want you to know…” Cait ground out the words and then paused as if she couldn’t think of something dreadful enough to put him in his place.
“You don’t want me here.” Jonas held up one hand before remembering the futility of trying to stop Cait Sullivan from doing anything she wanted to do. “Cait, I know you’re angry with me.”
“Angry! Angry?” Crimson flared in her cheeks, throwing the smattering of freckles into relief. “Angry doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about you. You lied to my sister. Left her. Humiliated her. I thought…” She crossed her arms over her chest and averted her face.
“Cait.” Jonas wanted more than anything to reach out to her. To draw her close. To tell her how much he cared for her. He kept still, knowing he had to move with caution. With patience. Somehow he had to make her realize why he’d done what he did—without making her angry at her sister.
She swung back toward him. “Get your things. I’ll show you where to bunk.” She bit her lip, small white teeth stark against the red of her full mouth. “May as well bring the curtains along.” She said curtains as if it were a curse word. Jonas couldn’t hold back the laugh.
Cait whirled to glare at him. “What’s so funny?”
Slipping his gelding’s reins free, Jonas reached into the bed of the wagon and lifted out his belongings. “I think your dad was having some fun with you.” He couldn’t stop the grin as she glared at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Confusion darted across her face. “Does that mean you were only delivering goods? Are you working at the mercantile?”
He could hear the unspoken question, “Does that mean you aren’t here to work with the horses?” Emotion he couldn’t interpret softened her features.
“No, I’ve been working down at the Bar W but came home to help my pa. Angus came over there to see about hiring me.” Jonas watched her eyes narrow to a green slit.
“So, what did you mean about my papa funning me?” She crossed her arms and glared at him. A strand of red, escaped from her braid, waved in the breeze.
“Maybe you should take a look at the curtains.” Jonas gestured to the wagonload of feed and supplies. He watched as Cait peered into the wagon bed and understanding of her father’s jest set her jaw tight.
Chapter 2
Ready?” Jonas paused with his foot in the stirrup and waited for the nod from Angus. He swung aboard the roan’s saddle, excitement singing in his veins. Before he settled he could feel the gelding’s back arch. He grinned, nodded at Angus.
As soon as Angus released his hold, the roan leaped stiff legged into the air. Jonas tightened his legs, drummed his heels against the horse’s middle, and held on. From somewhere he heard a screech but paid no attention as the world began to whirl. Every bone in his body cried out in protest as the roan landed. Breath whooshed out only to be gasped back in as the steed headed skyward for round two. Jonas ripped off his hat and slapped the brim against the gelding’s rump. The resulting snort made him grin more.
A flash of red caught the corner of his vision as the horse whirled in a circle. Cait. The momentary distraction broke his focus. The roan lifted into the air, twitching the opposite direction. Jonas lost his balance. Jarred by the landing, he felt himself slip to the side and knew he was about to eat dust. When the gelding landed again, the horse’s skin twitched as if saying, “So long, pesky fly,” and Jonas took to the air. He hit hard enough to knock the breath from his body.
Angus and one of the other men ran into the pen to haze the horse away from him, but the roan had already calmed. He snorted at Jonas and shook his whole body before turning his rump toward the downed man. Horse–1. Jonas–0.
Taking Angus’s hand, Jonas groaned as his body protested moving. He lo
ved the thrill of riding a bronc, breaking the wild animal to saddle. He wasn’t so crazy about the times he lost. He beat his hat against his thigh and a cloud of dust whisked away on the breeze. Before the morning ended this roan would be green broke. He’d see to that.
“You idiot.” The fire that lit Cait’s green eyes as she poked him in the chest made him grin. “What do you think you’re doing to my horse?” Her cheeks reddened, coming close to matching her hair. He tried hard not to chuckle. He truly did.
“You’re laughing at me.” Her voice rose. A pair of ravens took flight from a nearby tree. Her eyes narrowed. Jonas had to say something before he blackened to a cinder.
“That landing jarred my thinking, Cait. I was so glad to be alive and see you that I had to laugh.” Jonas scrubbed at his face, hoping to rub off the delight at being around her. She sure didn’t share his joy.
“I can’t believe you rode a horse that wasn’t ready. Who taught you to break horses? You will pack up and leave now.” She was almost close enough for him to kiss. For a moment, Jonas toyed with the idea. After all, how much angrier could she get?
“Caitie.” Angus laid a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “You can’t be firing my men.”
Cait’s teeth gritted—an audible sound. “He knows nothing about training horses.”
“My former boss might have a different opinion.” Jonas stretched his back to release a kink.
“He’s right.” Angus slapped his other hand on Jonas’s shoulder. “They couldn’t say enough good about him down at the Bar W. Foreman said he’s the best wrangler they’ve ever had.”
“I’ll bet no one asked the horses.” Cait’s fury abated a minute amount.
“Your horses talk?” Jonas slid his hat back on his head. “You must be a better trainer than me. I never achieved that level of success.”
“That’s because your horses were too beaten down to do anything other than plod along where the rider wanted them to go.” Cait turned to face her father. “You know the success I’ve had with training. If he’s allowed to work with me, he’ll ruin everything I’ve accomplished.”
Her eyes widened. Jonas noted a calculated gleam in the green depths. She’d always been the manipulative one of the Sullivan girls. He couldn’t wait to see what she planned this time.
She spoke to her father, turning away from Jonas as if dismissing him. “The buyer wants horses that are trained my way. We’ve proven that. If you keep Jonas on, you’re going to lose the sales.” She crossed her arms, her freckled nose lifted. He would only have to turn a little to bend down and kiss those full lips. Jonas rubbed his mouth to wipe away the smile. Wipe thoughts of kissing Cait from his mind. Wipe away the urge to blurt out how he still loved her.
“Your training method is what they prefer, but Cait, I need these horses ready faster than you can break them. You’re good, but slow.” Angus rubbed the back of his neck. “You have to figure out a way to work with Jonas. Maybe you could combine your techniques.”
“So, tell me about this great approach of yours.” The sun beating down sent a trickle of sweat inching down his back. Jonas ignored the itch that followed. “Explain to me what you do.”
Cait studied him as if she didn’t believe he wanted to hear what she had to say. Jonas knew she had a knack for working with animals. He’d seen that two years ago when he came over so often. Before he ruined his chances to ever be part of Cait’s life.
Smoothing the pleats in her riding skirt, Cait looked down instead of meeting his gaze with her usual fiery determination. Her porcelain cheeks had lost their flush. Freckles marched across her pert nose. Why did she seem so reluctant to say anything?
As if she could read his mind, Cait’s head snapped up. Her shoulders straightened and the fire returned to her eyes. “I prefer to use a gentler method of training. I don’t even like to use the term breaking because that speaks of violence toward the animal. I believe we just witnessed said cruelty in your method.” Her gaze strayed to where the roan stood hipshot on the opposite side of the corral.
Cait wished that dratted gelding wouldn’t be standing there looking so sleepy eyed and content. He should at least have the decency to display some trepidation that there might be a repeat of the treatment he’d just endured. She wanted to wipe the smug taunt from Jonas’s face as he glanced at the roan and back at her, his eyebrows arched, the crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes deepening.
“Looks like he’s suffering terribly. He’s contemplating how sorry he is for landing me in the dust and jarring my brain.” Jonas shot another look at the horse, the corners of his mouth tilting in that annoying way that always made her want to slap him or… well, her thoughts were not going there. They. Were. Not.
“He may have won this round, but I know how cowboys like you work.” Cait took a step closer to Jonas, regretted the move, but refused to step back. “You keep after a horse, wearing them down until they have no choice but to surrender and do everything you want.”
“And you don’t do that?” Jonas didn’t even try to hide his amusement. “Let me guess. You talk to the horse, convince him he will love working with you, and then let him do what he wants, hoping he will take you in the right direction?” Jonas grinned, giving her a glimpse of his white teeth. “I’m thinking even with your training method you end up with the horse doing what you want. Otherwise, the cavalry wouldn’t be so hot to buy your stock.”
Her father’s chuckle had Cait gritting her teeth again. Men. She once heard a man mutter that God created man first because he knew a woman would never be satisfied with the man created for her. Cait’s mother had been horrified at the statement, but sometimes Cait could see some truth in the thought. Right now, for instance.
“So, I’ll have this gelding green broke by the end of the day. How long does it take you to sweet-talk a horse into doing your will?” Jonas settled his hat lower on his brow, tilting the brim against the glare of the sun.
“I may take longer, but I end up with a horse with some spunk. One that doesn’t act like a docile dog.” Cait’s fingernails dug into her palms. She wished Jonas had a little less confidence in his abilities. Telling a cowboy about her method sounded like some ridiculous story. “I have a bay I’ve been working with. Let me show you what I do and then we can talk.”
Jonas lifted his hat to scratch at his head. He glanced at Angus, who nodded. Cait felt the hot flash of anger heat her face. Why did he have to seek her father’s permission? Did no one take her seriously? Biting back words she knew she would regret, Cait swiveled on her heel and led the way to the second corral around the corner of the barn.
“Nice piece of horseflesh.” Jonas leaned his arms on the top rail of the fence. Cait followed his gaze to the bay whose coat gleamed in the sunlight. His black forelock almost hid the white star between his eyes. The long mane didn’t hide the arch of his neck. He pranced away from them, still nervous around people.
“Before you go in there, tell me about him.” Jonas didn’t take his gaze from the stallion.
“I’ve been working with him for a few weeks. He’s part of a roundup of wild animals, but his bloodline is obviously not just mustang.” Cait couldn’t stop the smile as she watched the skittish animal dance away from them. “He’s been a challenge.”
Jonas lowered one arm and faced her. “I’d say that’s a challenge. A few weeks? How long does this method of yours take? No wonder…” His mouth thinned to a line as if he figured he’d said too much. “Let’s see what you can do.”
Nerves thrummed through her as Cait opened the gate and slipped into the corral. She took a deep breath, trying to forget her father and Jonas were watching her every move. She needed to prove her method.
“Hey, boy.” Cait sauntered to the far side of the pen, turned her back on the stallion, and leaned against the railing. She heard the bay stomp his feet and snort. The temptation to glance over her shoulder pressed down on her. She wouldn’t give in. He had to come to her.
; “What is she doing?” The astonishment in Jonas’s voice as he spoke to her father almost made her smile. He probably didn’t realize his voice would carry across the corral. For a cowboy like Jonas, used to breaking horses by force, her way would seem ludicrous.
The quiet clop of hooves broke her reverie. She would show Jonas. If he didn’t believe her with the stallion, she would demonstrate with her palomino mare. Her horse.
Warm breath feathered over her neck. The bay nuzzled her ear. She couldn’t stop the smile of exultation. Even with her dad and Jonas watching, the high-spirited animal chose to come to her. Progress. She eased around until her back rested on the fence, bringing her face-to-face with the gorgeous horse.
The stallion’s eyes shone with intelligence. Cait rested her palm on his cheek. For an instant, she pictured her hand resting against another face. Jonas. A pang of longing speared through her, followed by a shaft of anger. She jerked her hand away. The horse spooked, scrabbling backward. He reared. His forelegs pawed the air inches from her head.
“Cait.” Jonas vaulted the fence. Cait opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but the bay’s wild-eyed panic stopped her. She held her hand palm out toward Jonas. He halted midstride, looking almost as panicked as the rearing stallion.
Chapter 3
Two weeks. Two weeks he’d been at the ranch. Two weeks that hadn’t changed Cait’s mind one iota where Jonas was concerned. Two weeks that hadn’t dimmed the fear of seeing the bay stallion almost trample the woman he loved. Jonas halted his gelding and leaned his forearm on the pommel of the saddle, watching Cait work her mare in the pasture. Behind her the western sky blushed pink as the sun dipped below the horizon.
The palomino, heavy with foal, didn’t move with the grace Jonas knew she must have. In fact, today she seemed a bit more lethargic than usual. Cait stopped, signaled with her hand, and the mare circled away from her. The pair used no lead lines or tack of any sort, yet they seemed to have a visible connection. The way they worked together flowed like a finely played tune. These early morning sessions had become Jonas’s favorite time of day.