by Jillian Hart
The prairie stretched out all around him, silent and waiting. No wind tussled the miles of wild grasses. Wildflowers hung their heads as if in prayer. The first hint of light clung to the eastern rim of the world in a soft haze of gold. Birds stopped their singing and fell silent, as if in reverence. The last, tenacious stars struggled, winking out one by one.
Even the stray band of mustangs stood to watch the coming sun. Finally, the golden ball burst above the horizon, giving light and warmth and color. Green and gold fields, brilliant wildflowers, mellow blue sky. He felt the first cheerful beams of sun on his face and felt a light inside him dawn.
Hope.
"It's gonna be hard not to kiss you again," he confessed.
"Very hard." The corners of her mouth tilted upward, like a dare. "Good thing we'll be too busy to think about it."
"Right. Lots of work to do." He leaned in, captivated by her mouth, the way her lips moved. "There'll be no time."
"Exactly."
"You wouldn't want to kiss me anyway," he said.
"That's right." She looked as sweet as the daisy she held. He'd never wanted anything more.
"Maybe one more, for old time's sake." He gave her satin ribbon a tug, and her hair fell free, bouncing over her shoulders and breasts.
He should stop while he could. He should walk away and tend to the horses. But he threaded his fingers into her hair and cradled her head. Her mouth parted just a hint, in an invitation he could not deny. He covered her lips with his and this time kissed her the way a woman should be kissed. Deeply and passionately, so she would feel how he burned for her. Tenderly, so she would know his heart.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, holding on. A tiny moan escaped from her throat, and she opened up to him. A slow sweep of his tongue was all it took for him to moan, too. When he tore his mouth from hers, he was breathing hard, desire strummed through his veins and he leaned his forehead to hers, lost in her. He didn't know where he ended and she began.
"Not bad for a second kiss." She smiled up at him. "That one will be memorable, too."
She was his undoing. He should pull away, but instead he took her hand in his. Hold her now, he thought, while he could. "You don't want to get tangled up with me, pretty lady. I'm not the kind of man who's good for you."
"I'll keep that in mind." She hopped to her feet, her dress shivering around her willowy form. "The sun's up, the horses need to be picketed."
"That's my job." He climbed to his feet, too. About a dozen mustangs were grazing in the distant corner of Kit's land. He wondered where the black stallion and his herd were. He wanted to be ready when they came back this way.
"Then I'll get breakfast. I'll bring a cup of coffee out to you." Kit didn't take a step. Her feet didn't move. "Blue likes you to hold his bucket for him when he eats his grain. He doesn't like it on the ground."
"I noticed. Don't worry, I'll take good care of him."
"Kit!" Fred's boyish voice echoed across the yard. "There you are! Whatcha doin' up there?"
"I'd better go." At least they hadn't been caught kissing. It was their last kiss, after all, for old time's sake. It wasn't as if it would become a habit. Especially with Dakota warning her off.
"Hey," his deep voice called. "After breakfast, meet me at the corral."
"I'm afraid to ask why." She turned around, walking backward.
"I want to see how good you are with a lasso." He towered above her on the ridge with the rising sun at his back. "It's time for the next step in your plan."
"Great." Her plan. She'd momentarily forgotten it. Thanks to him. She headed down the slope, wondering what was wrong with her. This was not the time in her life to be distracted by a handsome wrangler. Too much was at stake.
Even when she tried, she couldn't focus on anything but the man behind her. She felt his presence like the sun on her back. No matter how much distance she put between them, his closeness remained. A place in her heart had filled with him, glowing with a brightness that outshone everything.
* * *
"That's better," Dakota called to her in the midmorning sun. "Good job."
"I'm finally doing it." Kit coiled up the rope, walking her way to the post caught by her noose. "You're right. It's in the wrist. Thanks for the tip."
"Sure, but you are pretty good all on your own."
"I've been practicing."
"Now try it on something moving." He took off his hat, squinting at her through the merry sunshine. "What we need is a good target."
"Me! I'll do it." Fred leaped down from the fence rail he was sitting on, landing with a two-footed thump. "I'm really hard to catch, too."
"Perfect. I've been wanting to hog-tie you for years, little brother." She couldn't help teasing. Her spirit felt light as a cloud, and Dakota was the reason. He'd been working with her since breakfast to coach her lassoing skills. Standing behind her, his presence was hot against her back, his touch branded her skin. The rich, low timbre of his voice rang intimately, encouraging her.
"I'm a horse, not a hog, Kit." Fred swept off his hat, tossed it to Mindy who was watching in the nearby grass, and gave a wide grin. "There's a difference."
"Not when it comes to you." She shook out her noose the way Dakota had shown her. It worked better than the way she'd been practicing and swung the lasso, concentrating. "Okay, little pony, start running."
"Hey, I'm not a pony." Fred protested.
"You're a pony cuz you're short." Mindy teased, needlework in hand. A pretty length of lace dangled from her crochet hook.
"I'm the black stallion." Fred took off at a run. "You can't catch me, Kit."
"Wanna bet?" She took off after him, running across the yard. Blue lifted his head from grazing, a dandelion hanging from between his lips. Jack snuffled out a commentary, dark eyes following the action. The palomino mare dashed the length of her picket line, intent on staying far away.
"Give her a challenge, kid." Dakota relaxed against the fence rails, watching the show. "Try and make it hard for her."
"Okay. How about this?" Fred raced right, swerved left, took off at a dead run.
She swung her lasso, and on the third revolution she let it fly. The top of the lasso sailed over Fred's head. She waited a beat, pulled tight, and he gently tumbled onto a patch of clover.
"Look what I caught. It's not a horse." She pounced on him before he could get up and tickled him along his ribcage. He wriggled and wiggled, head back, squealing with laughter.
"He's not a pony, either." Mindy set down her crochet work and rushed over to join in on the tickling. "He looks like a little a bear."
"Why, yes he does," Kit agreed. "Let's ask Mr. Mason to smoke him. He might make a good stew."
"No!" Fred squealed, squirming away from them. He sat up, laughing hard, eyes shining. "I'm too young to smoke."
"Oh, that's a terrible pun." Kit ruffled his hair, her funny little brother. "Want to give it another try?"
"Do I! Catch me again." He hopped to his knees, stepped out of the noose and took off at a run.
Kit scooped up her lasso and caught sight of Dakota. Alone by the fence, he was always alone, but this time he was laughing.
Chapter Thirteen
Kit drew Blue to a halt alongside Dakota and Jack. The prairie surrounded them. Birds chattered, a jackrabbit hopped away, and a grazing elk lifted his head, antlers high, to watch curiously.
"Are you ready?" Dakota leaned in. The last time he'd been this close, they'd been kissing.
"Yes." She tightened her grip on her lasso. "This is going to be different from catching Fred."
"Only a little. For one thing, the horses can't talk back to you," he quipped.
It was good to see him light-hearted. "A bonus."
"They don't giggle when you catch them." His midnight eyes twinkled. "We're downwind, and they haven't noticed us yet. The heat of the day is getting to them. I circle right, you circle left, we meet in the middle."
"Right." She'd memorized his strat
egy. Her palms went damp against the leather of her gloves. This was it. If she made a mistake, then they'd lose their element of surprise and she'd go home empty-handed. "Which horse do we try for?"
"You choose."
A hard decision. She made out five females in the group. She wanted all of them. How could she not? They were beautiful, every one of them. Her gaze lingered on a red and white mare with an identical foal by her side. "How about the paint?"
Dakota nodded approval. "She's the smallest mare. She'll be easier to handle. Are you ready?"
"Ready." She gathered her reins. She'd never been more ready for anything.
"You get into trouble, I'll be right there," he promised as he pressed Jack into an easy lope.
"C'mon, Blue." She urged him to go. With the wind in her hair, the sun at her back, she felt as if they were flying. Just her and her horse, rising and falling in perfect rhythm, hardly touching the ground. The only thing nicer was Dakota riding close to her side.
With his hat in place and dark hair whipping behind him, he was every inch a horseman. Leaning forward in his saddle, his attention focused on the mares, there was something noble in him that shone through when his guards were down. It was that something in him she couldn’t resist.
Or his kiss. She couldn't erase the memory or the way he'd made her feel. She'd never known anything as tender as Dakota's kiss. If only she didn't want it again.
The young stallion spotted them, neighed a warning to his small herd. The mares scrambled awake and scattered, running hard. Blue raced to catch them, head down, neck out, ears pressed flat to his head.
"She's a fast one!" Dakota stood in his stirrups, lasso coiled in one hand, the racing mare between them. "You throw first. Give it a try."
The world blurred at the speed, Kit kept her eyes on the red and white paint, gripped her rope and let the lasso fly. It sailed through the air, slapped against the mare's neck and tumbled slack to the ground.
"Reel it in, try again!" Dakota called above the chaos of noise, whinnies and the drum of escaping horses. "I'll block her on this side. You can do it."
Don't notice the man, she thought. Concentrate. But it wasn't easy. She swung the rope, establishing a rhythm, barely aware of Blue galloping beneath her, nearly parallel to the mare. She sighted and threw. Up the rope went, hissing through the air and then down, looping over the pinto's head.
"Keep with her, move her from the herd," Dakota called as his lasso whipped through the air like a blur, cinching the mare's neck. "Let's take her your way, keep her between us. Taut rope."
"She's beautiful." Up close, she was breath-stealing. With a soft snowy coat marked with rich red markings.
"She is," he agreed. "She just doesn't like being caught."
"I've noticed."
She did as Dakota instructed, countering any movement the paint made. When the animal reared, Kit sent Blue sidestepping, shortening the rope. When the mare tried to bolt, the ropes anchored to the saddle horns stopped her. When the mare tried to bite Blue, Dakota hauled Jack forward to haul her away. The mare whinnied to her disappearing herd until there was nothing but dust.
Together, they led the mare a quarter mile home, but it felt like a hundred miles. By the time they'd reached the corral, sweat sluiced down Kit's face and dampened her shirt. She flicked the noose free as the little red and white filly hurried in after her mama. Fred and Mindy shoved the gate closed.
"We did it." Fred clapped his hands, hopping up and down on the bottom rung of the gate. "Our first real round-up. We're horse ranchers now, Kit."
"Yes, we are, buddy." The thrill she felt was nothing compared to the one that telegraphed through her at the sight of the man astride the big bay gelding.
"You look thirsty." He handed her the canteen.
"No," she rasped, not sure what it was she wanted, but she doubted it was water.
Hat in one hand, hair tousled and sweaty, he stood in silhouette, lifting his canteen. The sunlight bathed him as he guzzled water, lowered the canteen. Her fingers itched to trace the imposing silhouette he made—carved granite profile, mile-wide shoulders, imposing masculinity.
He was a dangerous man, the kind a girl like her should stay far away from. He looked like a heartbreaker, a man without a tame instinct in him, who was sure to leave when the mood suited him. After all, he'd warned her not to get tangled up with him. He wouldn't be good for her.
She believed him. It was her foolish heart that didn't want to listen.
"What are we going to name her?" Mindy hopped down from the rail. "Her baby needs a name, too."
"Why don't you name the baby?" Kit suggested. "Fred gets to name the mare."
"I'm namin' her Renegade." Fred must have had that one saved up ahead of time.
"How about Cookie for the baby, because she's sweet." Mindy gave a little sigh. "I really like the baby horse."
"Me, too." Kit dismounted, gave Blue a grateful pat. "After we get the horses rubbed down, why don't we start on supper? I want to eat early. Howie's going to town."
"Not again." Dakota shook his head, rolled his eyes. "Is there anything I can say to stop you?"
"I've got a payment to make. Howie is going to have to go to town." She felt shy suddenly, vulnerable. Everything between them was changing again. "Besides I want to try out my new and improved mustache."
That made everybody laugh.
* * *
He didn't think it was a good idea to go to town. It was a big gambling night, and Tannen was sure to be there. But Kit was right. She had a payment to make. This wild piece of prairie and all it represented was worth fighting for. He intended to help her with that fight. Dakota heaved the last ten-gallon bucket over the rails. Water splashed into the tub, sloshing over.
"There you go, Renegade." He tried to make eye contact with the red and white mare, but she wouldn't acknowledge him. "You've got water to see you through the night and then some. If you calm down a bit, you might notice the grain I brought. It's in the trough."
One ear twitched, the only sign she was listening.
The curious filly stood on splayed legs, watching him with doe eyes. She had long curly lashes, a mane like a broom, short and coarse. She pranced forward on her long, graceful legs and halted when her mama nickered a low warning.
"Hey, there, pretty girl." He smiled at her, determined to win her over. He glanced over his shoulder, checking on Kit. No sign of her. The last he'd seen of her, she'd been by the campfire, boiling water to wash supper dishes. Water he'd carried for her.
He was going to have to do something about the affection taking root. Liking her was one thing, being fond of her was another. But the last time he'd beaued anyone, he'd been nineteen, smitten with the seamstress's daughter, Ella. He'd been too shy to do more than sit beside her on her mother's front porch.
That was the extent of his beauing experience. Deter's daughter had been found strangled and mutilated, one week later. That past had followed him around ever since, getting in the way of any chance at a normal life.
What if it was different this time? Maybe the sheriff wouldn't place him. Beauregard had admitted his memory wasn't as good as it used to be. Maybe this was his chance to leave the past behind. Was he a fool to hope?
Or was his luck finally changing?
"Hey, Jack. You were incredible today." He held out his hands to the gelding that ambled over, dragging his picket line behind him. He rubbed the old fellow's gray muzzle. "You must have been lightning in your prime. You're a good guy."
Jack nickered, nudging him.
"Thanks, boy." He gave a soft laugh when someone stole his hat, whipping it right off his head. "Is that you, Blue?"
The stallion pawed his front hoof on the ground, nodding his head in delight. He held the Stetson by its brim, clamped lightly in his teeth.
"Do you steal Kit's hat, too?"
Mischief danced in horsy eyes. Amused with himself, Blue handed over the Stetson, obviously expecting a pat or two.
Dakota gave him three. "You did a fine job today, too. No wonder Kit's in love with you."
Blue lowered his head, pressed his forehead against Dakota's chest. It had been a long time since he'd felt this way about a horse. Seemed Kit wasn't the only one bringing his heart to life.
"Hey, girl." The palomino mare watched him with lonely eyes. She missed her herd, and he reckoned she'd been close to a person at one time in her life. She held her head out, as if hoping for the same affection the other horses got. He didn't want to disappoint her.
"Looks like you're healing up fine." The skin was red and raw, but healing. He rubbed her nose and ears until she closed her eyes at the comfort.
"Seems like you're dazzling all the ladies." Kit strolled up, dressed for town. She gave her suspenders a hitch. "Good thing I know better."
"Most ladies do," he quipped. "Only lady horses are charmed by me."
"Maybe because you feed them grain?" She gestured toward the empty pail against the barn. "Are you going to stable her tonight, or leave her in the corral with Renegade?"
"Inside. I'll take her in, and then we're ready to ride." He took the mare by her lead. She followed him willingly.
Kit knew exactly how she felt. She couldn't take her eyes off the man until he disappeared into the barn. Her feelings were more serious than she felt comfortable with, but her stomach went weak remembering how tender he could be.
The ride to town was uneventful. They spoke easily of the new mares. Dakota reckoned the palomino mare was well enough to start training. He thought Renegade would test the fence for them and find any weaknesses before they tried for the black stallion and his herd. She hadn't planned on so many horses to start, but it opened possibilities, and if Dakota stayed long enough to help break and train them all, well, that would be fine with her. She wanted him to stay for as long as he felt comfortable. She liked having him around. In truth, she more than liked it.
"You go on in, I'll see to the horses." He dismounted in front of Moe's saloon and held Blue's reins for her. "I don't see Tannen's horse. You won't need me yet."
"Don't be too sure about that." She swung down, her skin prickling with awareness as their gloves touched. "Trouble finds me."
