A Cowboy's Angel

by Pamela Britton

  He had a pencil tucked behind his ear, the thing partially concealed by his gray hair. He pulled it out and set it on his desk almost as if her staring at it had made him recall its presence. He even smiled a bit.

  “You are an amazing woman and a brilliant vet. That work you did with the racehorses, incredible. I understand from his owner that Summer is completely sound. Zach plans to race her this year.”

  Her stomach released a spasm that made her queasy. “That’s great,” she lied.

  “We’ve received a number of referrals from the owner of that horse, a man I think you were seeing at one time?”

  It was like swallowing lava rock. “I was.”

  “Not seeing him anymore?”

  She shook her head.

  “That’s too bad. Seemed like a nice guy. I was thinking you might have been invited to watch his horse race this weekend.”

  She had been invited. In a way. “I’m going to catch it on TV.”

  Liar.

  “Well, in any event, your work here has been exemplary. That’s why I’d like to make it permanent.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him how much she’d enjoyed working there, how much she would miss it—but then his words penetrated. “Excuse me?”

  Dr. Saffer smiled, clearly expecting her reaction. “Dr. Bowler has decided to stay home with her baby, at least until she gets a little older. That means we have an opening and we’d love for you to replace her.”

  Mariah was speechless, but then the breath left her because she’d been struck by an overwhelming urge to call Zach and tell him...only she couldn’t.

  “Oh, my goodness, Dr. Saffer, I don’t know what to say.” She was close to tears, although not for the reason her boss might think.

  “Say yes.”

  “Yes!” she squeaked. “Of course, yes.”

  “Excellent.” Dr. Saffer stood. “I can’t tell you how pleased we are to have you on board, Mariah. I think your work with racehorses will bring this clinic to another level.”

  “Thank you.”

  You can’t call him.

  But she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.

  “I’ll announce it at our staff meeting tomorrow morning and then send out a press release this weekend.” He held out his hand. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  When she left the office, her hands shook. She should check in with the girls at the front desk. Instead she walked past them and to her car, where she climbed inside and bawled, just bawled, and not just because of the fantastic job offer. No, she cried because she missed Zach so terribly it felt like a physical pain. She wanted him to know how her life had just changed. She wanted to share her excitement. Wanted to jump up and down and whoop with excitement and celebrate...in Zach’s arms.

  Alas, he was no longer a part of her life.

  When she got home that evening, she felt even more alone. The entire barn was at a horse show at the Santa Barbara showgrounds, an event where Dandy had made his debut, Zach’s old horse picking up his first championship. It was in the baby greens, but there’d been a lot of talk about the fancy new hunter in the Uptown barn. She wouldn’t be surprised if the new owner was offered big money for the gelding even with his old injury. The thought should have cheered her up. Happy ending all around. Only she wasn’t happy. She was depressed to the point that she found herself walking aimlessly toward the barn. Nobody was around, not even Jillian. And those people who didn’t have a horse showing weren’t around, either. Tonight was the big Grand Prix. The crème de la crème of horses would be jumping in a big event, including Natalie’s.

  “To hell with it.”

  She would go and watch. Why not? It sure beat sitting around and moping.

  So she got in her car and made the forty-five-minute drive south. The Santa Barbara Grand Prix was scheduled for late evening, the sunset to her right reminding her of her evening with Zach.

  Don’t go there.

  She didn’t. She focused instead on the cars on the road. The closer she got to Santa Barbara, the more packed the roads became. The showgrounds were packed, too, but she’d been to the facility enough times to know the secret places to park. She timed it perfectly. Natalie should be out in the warm-up pen and she was certain Jillian would be out there with her. But the moment she walked between the wooden barns she could tell something was wrong. Natalie’s horse, Nero, stood near the edge of the arena, with Jillian and Natalie’s groom, Kate, standing nearby. Natalie was examining Nero’s hoof. Mariah quickened her steps.

  “What happened?”

  Jillian turned and smiled. “Mariah!”

  Her friend’s response told her it was nothing serious. Mariah’s shoulders relaxed. Natalie was picking something out of Nero’s front foot. The horse’s white sides were streaked with sweat even though it was cool outside. Behind them other riders warmed up, horses sailing over the warm-up fences, some of them being coached by people on the ground.

  “Is he okay?”

  “Fine,” Natalie said, meeting her gaze. “Although he scared me half to death.” She dropped Nero’s foot and straightened. “There. That ought to feel better.”

  “She was out warming up when he suddenly pulled up lame.” Jillian shook her head. “We all thought he’d hurt himself, but it turned out his foot was full of dirt.”

  “At least, I’m pretty sure that was it,” Natalie said, her pretty face dipping into a frown. “Kate, why don’t you trot him out.”

  Uptown Farm’s groom, a young girl as blonde as Natalie, nodded. She trotted the big warm blood off as Mariah eyed him critically.

  “He looks fine now,” she said, relieved.

  “Thank goodness,” Natalie said. “I thought at first he tore something.”

  “Me, too,” Jillian echoed.

  What Dandy does is just as risky as what Dasher does.

  This was Nero, though, Mariah told herself. What he did was different than what Dandy would be doing.

  He could still hurt himself.

  “He’s telling me he’s okay,” Jillian said.

  She wished Jillian could tell her that she would be okay, Mariah thought.

  Natalie climbed back on a moment later, looking the quintessential English rider in her dark blue hunt coat, breeches and black helmet. Mariah watched them closely when they trotted off, but it was clear the big horse was fine. In a moment they were back to jumping fences, but she could feel Jillian peeking glances at her.

  Mariah tipped her chin up, but she didn’t say anything right away. Natalie approached a fence and it was impossible not to hold her breath as the woman took the horse over a four-foot obstacle. She did it so perfectly.

  “He looks good,” she noted.

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  Another horse approached, but Mariah didn’t watch nearly as closely. “As a matter of fact, I came here to celebrate.”

  Jillian eyed her skeptically. She placed her hands on her jean-clad hips, the white T-shirt she wore pulling across her body.

  “I was offered a full-time position at the clinic.”

  Jillian’s whole face changed. “Mariah. That’s great!”

  She hugged her as Kate, who stood on the other side of her and hadn’t heard, said, “What? What happened?”

  “Mariah was offered a full-time position at the clinic,” Jillian said, drawing back.

  Kate’s young face lit up, too. The girl was studying to be a vet. “Mariah, that’s awesome.”

  It was awesome.

  So why did she feel like crying?

  “Mariah, what’s wrong?”

  She watched as Natalie took another fence, her horse like a gazelle, although he stumbled a bit on the other side. Natalie rode him like a pro.

  “He’s
right, you know,” Mariah said.

  Kate went back to watching her boss, but Jillian held her gaze. “Who’s right?”

  She didn’t want to admit it, she really didn’t, but her momentary panic that Nero had been hurt had brought it all home. “A horse can get hurt at any time, anyplace.”

  To her surprise, Jillian didn’t instantly disagree. “He promised you, though. He swore he wouldn’t race Dasher if you helped him get well.”

  “Did he? I don’t recall him ever promising not to race the horse. Unlike me. I promised him something once upon a time—and I broke that promise. He not only forgave me, he went on to help me later.”

  Out in the middle of the arena Natalie was patting Nero’s neck. It was clear she was done warming up and that she was pleased with how Nero had performed.

  “Look,” Jillian said. “You know I’m not a big fan of racing and that I was skeptical from the very beginning that you’d ever get through to Zach Johnson, much less his racing cronies.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  Jillian shook her head, “And I know you’ve been miserable since the two of you split up.”

  She couldn’t look her friend in the eye. It was true.

  “So I guess the big question is, are you more miserable with him—knowing what he does for a living—or when you’re without him?”

  Her mind went blank. Deep inside she knew the answer to that question.

  Away from him.

  “And the even bigger question,” her friend continued, “do you love him enough to overlook what he does for a living?”

  Love?

  Was this love? This feeling that she couldn’t breathe? The sick twist of her stomach when she’d seen Nero standing there, thinking he’d been hurt and realizing that Zach was right—a horse could get hurt anywhere, anytime.

  “I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that question,” Jillian said. “I think you know it, too.”

  Yes. She knew, but what would she do about it?

  * * *

  CHAOS.

  It’d been a long time since the Triple J Stables had a horse in a stakes race, and he’d forgotten what it was like. Chaos. Long days at the track, media appearances and the obligatory parties and schmoozing with whatever muckety-muck happened to be throwing one. It wouldn’t have been so bad but for the fact that the press had gotten wind of Dasher’s miraculous recovery. That, combined with the fact that he’d won his last race in record time, made him the perfect Cinderella story during a slow news week.

  “You going to the press conference, boss?”

  Jose enjoyed the limelight and the horse he’d just hosed off was definitely a star. Dasher stood there tied outside his stall, eating from his hay net as if all the commotion were no big deal. Quarter horses. They had the best minds in the world. A Thoroughbred would have been pacing in his stall.

  “Guess I have to go.”

  Jose smiled, revealing two gold teeth. The man had worked for Triple J for as long as Zach could remember. He’d been the first to notice something was wrong after Mariah had dumped him.

  “Bit of a walk to the clubhouse,” Jose said.

  “Yup.” And in the arid near-desert heat, he’d be miserable the whole way. “See you in a bit.”

  Miserable during the whole ordeal, too, but there was no way to get out of it. At least he wouldn’t be alone. Wes had a horse entered, too, as did a couple of the other owners who called Golden Downs home. He wouldn’t have to answer all the questions on his own. Maybe he’d get lucky and he wouldn’t have to answer anything.

  He should have known better.

  The minute he walked in, all eyes turned in his direction. The pressroom overlooked the front stretch and it felt as if a hundred eyes followed his progress to the tables set up along the short side of the room. Network news, local news, equine journalists—they were all there.

  “Wow,” Zach said.

  “Saved you a seat,” Wes said, his green eyes full of amusement. “You do realize they’re all here for you.”

  “No, they’re not.”

  “Oh, yes, they are. Your horse was on the national news this morning. It’s the feel-good story of the year, or at least this week. Down-on-his-luck racehorse owner gets a second chance at success with recovered racehorse.”

  “They’re not here for me,” he said again.

  He was wrong. Again.

  As soon as the president of the track opened up the floor for questions, all eyes turned to him.

  “Zach, Zach. Here, here.” Hands waved; cameras clicked; recorders were switched on. Zach blinked spots out of his eyes and selected the familiar female face. Well, he thought it might be familiar. He was so blinded by flashes he could barely see.

  “Zach,” Christine Hamilton asked, “how does it feel to have a horse entered in your first major stakes race in years?”

  Yup. He’d picked the right woman. Blond hair and a friendly smile. “Twelve years, to be exact, but who’s counting? And it feels great.”

  “Zach, Zach,” a man called. Zach didn’t recognize him. “How did you feel when you realized your horse might have a shot at winning the Million Dollar Futurity?”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “Thrilled. Nervous. Still nervous,” he said with a laugh.

  “Are you worried your horse will break down?” someone else called, a man he recognized from television.

  “I was at first, but Black in a Dash hasn’t taken an off step since I brought him home. And actually, this is a good time to thank Dr. Mariah Stewart and the staff at Via Del Caballo Veterinary Clinic for taking such excellent care of my stallion. Dr. Stewart was amazing. We wouldn’t be here today without her.”

  “Will she be watching the race with you tonight?” someone else asked.

  “Alas, no. Dr. Stewart isn’t a big fan of the sport.” He hoped he hid his disappointment. “She does what she does out of love of horses, nothing more.”

  “Actually, that’s not precisely true.”

  He thought he heard wrong. That had sounded like...

  He scanned the crowd, hoping, wondering, calling himself a fool because there was no way—

  Mariah.

  She smiled at him from the back row and Zach’s heart just about flipped over in his chest.

  “I actually will be watching.” Her smile reminded him of the time Erin had called him Mariah’s boyfriend, her smile somewhat abashed but also determined. “I just don’t know if I’ll be in the owners’ box.”

  He didn’t know what to say. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to jump over the table and pull her into her arms, but he’d have to knock down a few people in order to do that. He cleared his throat.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he heard himself say, “my veterinarian, Dr. Mariah Stewart, the woman who saved Dasher’s leg.”

  Cameras turned in Mariah’s direction. Flashes whitewashed her face. Someone thrust a mic in front of her.

  “Dr. Stewart, is this your first time watching a race?”

  “Dr. Stewart, can you tell us a little about Dasher’s therapy?”

  “Dr. Stewart, is it true you dumped my friend?”

  The last came from Wes and Zach wanted to kill him. Wes had managed to do what celebrities could only dream of doing—silence a roomful of reporters.

  “Wes,” he hissed.

  Mariah lifted a hand in Zach’s direction. “Why, yes, Wes. That’s true.”

  “Because you disagreed with him about putting Dasher in this race.”

  “Yes.”

  Zach covered his mic and leaned toward Wes. “What are you doing?”

  Wes covered his mic, too. “Getting the two of you to talk. Lord knows you’re both so stubborn you’ll probably say something stupid.”

  Th
e people in the room must have sensed a story unfolding, because they held their tongues.

  With a complacent smile, Wes uncovered his mic. “So what are you doing here now, Dr. Stewart?”

  “Well, I—” She glanced around the room and Zach could see her cheeks color. She didn’t want to answer, he could tell, would have preferred to talk to him privately. But then she lifted her chin. “I still think it’s a mistake, but as someone once said, Black in a Dash could reinjure himself out in a pasture. So I’m here now because if he does reinjure himself, I’m his vet and I want to be here for him.”

  “So you’re going to watch the race now?” a reporter asked.

  Zach held his breath.

  “Only if I can stand next to Dasher’s owner.”

  Zach shot to his feet. Mariah smiled. He started to move around the table. It was like the parting of the Red Sea. Journalists moved out of the way. Camera crews. Race fans. Mariah stepped forward. Zach would never remember moving in her direction. All he knew was that one minute she was in the back and the next she was in his arms.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked softly.

  There were tears in her eyes. “They hired me full-time at the clinic and all I could think about afterward was how much I wanted to see you, only I couldn’t, because I was so wrapped up in who I was supposed to be—Mariah the activist—that I couldn’t see the forest through the trees, but then I thought you were right, I was being a hypocrite, because just the other day one of Natalie’s horses hurt itself coming off a fence and I found myself thinking—”

  “For God’s sake, just kiss her,” Wes’s voice blared over the microphone.

  Zach glanced in his friend’s direction, winked and did exactly that. He didn’t care that there was a roomful of journalists watching. Didn’t mind that his peers from Golden Downs looked on. Wasn’t bothered by the sudden flash of a bulb, then another and another. All he could think about was that Mariah was here, at the track, in his arms and he was kissing her and she kissed him back.

  “I love you,” she murmured against his lips. “I tried so hard to fight it, but I just couldn’t do it.”

  “Shh,” he soothed.

  “Whatever happens to Dasher tonight, I promise to be there for you, Zach.”