by Sharon Sala
Jenny laughed. She clapped her hands at the foal’s spirit and quickly forgot the reason why she’d intended to remain aloof. The baby was too dear to resist.
She vaulted down from the fence and walked into the arena. Her hand slipped into her pocket and then she was holding it out in front of her, calling softly in a quiet, crooning tone.
The foal stopped short, its tiny ears upright and dark eyes watching nervously as the stranger came close. The mare whinnied softly as Jenny’s familiar scent reached her nostrils. Her muzzle extended as she reached hungrily for the treat she knew was waiting.
Jenny smiled, one eye on the baby, the other on the mother, whose soft nostrils stroked her palm as the mare delicately nibbled the sugar cube out of her hand.
The foal was curious. Jenny could see its interest from the corner of her eye. Slowly she slid a second cube out of her pocket and extended her palm. The foal sniffed the air, and then made one quick sidestep, just to remind Jenny who was in charge. But the smell was enticing and curiosity won out. Jenny’s heart thumped as the foal walked toward her on those matchstick legs. She held her breath, and as the crowd watched, her patience overcame the foal’s fears. The sugar cube disappeared into the tiny mouth.
Fascinated in spite of himself at the way she’d coaxed the mare and foal to her will, Chance couldn’t resist the dig.
“You have them all eating out of the palm of your hand, don’t you, girl?”
Jenny looked up. He said one thing, but she knew he meant another. His remark referred to the men outside the corral, not the horses.
“Not all,” she answered. “Not yet. But I’m not about to quit trying. Sometimes…the ones hardest to get are the best. And if I can’t have the best”—her stare made him forget what he’d been about to say—“then I don’t want anything at all.”
He was speechless. He watched her walk away and resume her seat on the fence as the crowd clapped and cheered in appreciation of the impromptu show. The noise sent the foal running to the opposite end of the corral. The mare nickered nervously and Chance quickly led them both away.
“Well, hell,” he muttered, as he fastened the mare and her foal back into their stall. “That was futile for the both of us, lady. Your baby showed off…and I got put in my place…as usual.”
The only problem is, I don’t know where my place is. I know what I want, and I know what I can’t have. And I’m expected to exist somewhere in between. That’s not existing, that’s hell!
He slammed the latch shut and pushed his Stetson down tight on his head. Dust billowed beneath his boot heels as he stomped back out into the arena to see what his boss wanted of him now. But he knew it didn’t much matter. As long as that line of men was waiting to get their hands on Jenny, his life wasn’t worth a damn.
The men were given free rein to wander the horse barns. It was Marcus’s way of letting them talk among themselves and come to a decision about whether or not to purchase some of his stock. He didn’t much care. He wasn’t particularly wanting to sell. He’d staged the entire event for Jenny’s sake.
After she’d finally agreed to meet one young man, he’d been inspired to try bigger and better things. This horse showing was simply a means to an end. One never knew what would strike sparks between a young man and woman.
A few months ago it had dawned on him that she had little to no social life. He’d been dumbstruck. The only explanation he could come up with was that she had to be lacking in opportunity. Therefore, he’d decided he had to provide.
In the past, he hadn’t given Jenny’s welfare much notice. But when it had finally occurred to him that Jenny should be thinking about settling down and raising a family, he’d clung to the idea with bulldog tenacity. He had no idea that his daughter was using his lineup of possible suitors as a means of making his foreman jealous.
“Look, son,” Devlin Walters said. “It can’t hurt to be nice to her. Hell, it shouldn’t hurt at all. I’d be proud to call her daughter.” And then he grinned and nudged his son as they pretended to look over a herd of geldings in a side corral. “I’d be even prouder to get her daddy’s money in my pocket. She’s pretty as they come and built like a brick…”
“That’s entirely beside the point,” Jason Walters said.
His father was like a broken record. He’d been pushing him to marry for a year. And when they’d gotten the invitation to come out to the Triple T, his father had lost all reason. It wasn’t that Jason didn’t like Jennifer Tyler. Any man who deserved to call himself a man would like to take that female to bed. She was pretty and rich—a deadly combination.
The problem was, she wouldn’t have any of it. He’d spent the entire day giving her the best of his male repertoire and all he’d gotten for his troubles was a sorry-ass smile. Half the men here had at least gotten her to speak. If she wouldn’t even talk to him, how the hell did his father expect him to get to first base…let alone farther?
“Look, Jason,” Devlin said, “you’re a good-looking boy. You take after your mother’s side of the family…and God knows they’ve got more looks than brains.” He blushed as he realized what he’d just implied, but continued as if it didn’t matter. “What woman could resist you if you gave it your all?” He lowered his voice. “Get her interested…and then get her pregnant. It’s the surest way I know to snag a reluctant woman, and that’s a fact. Give it a try. It can’t hurt.”
Chance couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Fury boiled in him as he dropped the saddle he’d been carrying and walked around the corner of the corral. The two men jumped as if they’d been shot, and looked at each other in guilty silence.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Walters.” Chance’s drawl was deceptively soft.
The younger man shivered. He saw pure, unadulterated anger boiling behind those dark eyes and wished he’d stayed at home.
“It’ll hurt a hell of a lot,” Chance continued. “If your son goes anywhere near Jenny Tyler, I’ll tell her what you said. And if by some wild, off-chance, you decide to try me and take her out anyway…you’d better pray to God that she comes back in the same condition in which she left.” He stared pointedly at the younger Walters and whispered, “You touch her…I’ll break your neck.”
Devlin Walters blustered. He was furious they’d been caught out, and furious that a mere hired hand was reading him the riot act. If it had come from Marcus himself, that would have been another matter altogether.
“Look here,” he said. “You have no right talking to us like that. What we said…why…it was just in jest, you understand. But that’s beside the point. Miss Tyler’s welfare is none of your business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Chance said softly. Jenny is my business. Has been since she was eleven years old. And don’t you forget it.”
Jason Walters decided that if he made it home in one piece today, he didn’t give a tinker’s damn what his father wanted, he was going back to college. Another degree never hurt anyone…and it was a lot less painful than what this implied.
Devlin Walters might have tried to push the boundaries of good conscience and continue the argument, but Marcus and Jenny were coming toward them.
For one long moment, the three men stared at one another, each waiting to see if another was willing to stir up trouble.
“So, Dev,” Marcus said, as he slapped the elder Walters jovially, “I see you’ve met Chance. I was going to introduce you, but I see you’ve beat me to it.” He smiled at Chance as he continued, unaware of the undercurrents seething between the men. “He’s my other right hand,” Marcus said. “The Triple T wouldn’t be half the place it is without him. And don’t get Jenny started on his accomplishments…she’ll never shut up. She thinks he can do no wrong.”
Jenny saw the looks the men were exchanging. Something had happened, of that she was certain. But what remained a mystery.
“We introduced ourselves,” Chance said, then gave Jenny a long, telling look and walked away without looki
ng back.
Jason Walters breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s been really nice meeting you, Jenny,” he said. “But my dad and I were just saying that Mom is expecting us. In fact, she expected us home over an hour ago. We’ve got to be going, right, Dad?”
Devlin shook hands with his host, winked at Jenny just to prove to himself that that damned foreman didn’t own all the rights, and let his son lead him away.
“I’ll be right back,” Marcus said. “I’ll just walk them to their car.”
Jenny nodded. She had no intention of following him. Her sights were set on locating Chance and finding out what had been going on. It didn’t take her long. He was slamming saddles and bridles around the tack room as if he’d just lost his mind.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jenny asked, as she grabbed a bridle out of his hand before he flung it across the room.
His hungry gaze swept over her like wildfire. Her slim waist and flared hips were nothing but a reminder of what he’d overheard. It made him crazy to think about any man putting his hands…or anything else…on her.
“Nothing,” he said, turning away.
She shoved a fist against his chest and stopped his retreat. “Bull! Don’t give me that,” she said. “I saw the looks…I heard what you weren’t saying. I want to know, and I want to know now.”
“Well, sometimes you don’t always get what you want, Miss Tyler.” Chance’s drawl was slow and cruel.
Jenny gasped. It was the first time in their entire relationship that Chance had ever…knowingly…insulted her. Tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked furiously, angry with herself for giving in to the feeling and angry with him for causing it.
Chance groaned. He’d seen the tears, and he knew she didn’t deserve pain.
“You don’t have to remind me,” Jenny said, and spun around, intent on putting as much space between them as possible before the tears began to run.
“Wait!”
She stopped but refused to turn around.
“What?” Anger kept her back straight and defiant.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But there are things in my life that you don’t understand. There are things I can’t change.” The pain was thick in his voice as he finished. “I wish to hell I could…but I can’t. And as for Walters and his son…don’t mess with them…. Okay?”
Her pause showed him that she’d gotten the message.
“Okay,” she said. When she turned around, he was gone.
Jenny stuffed her hands into her jacket pocket, stepped off the porch, and wandered down toward the barns. She’d been aware of the activity in the main corrals all afternoon but had been stuck inside the house entertaining the latest of Marcus’s friends who’d come calling. The horse show had come and gone, but Marcus had obviously not given up. Neither had Jenny. She was back to her old plan of trying to make Chance jealous.
Today, it seemed hopeless. He kept ignoring her and the silent treatment she was receiving was breaking her heart. After the incident at the horse show, he’d dodged her with precision and determination.
“How’s it going?” she asked, smiling at Henry.
She rested her chin on her forearms and leaned against the top rail, watching the last of the mares being led out to the corral where Cheyenne was standing at stud.
“’Bout the same as usual,” Henry drawled. It didn’t take a mind reader to figure out what had been going on up at the house. And it was obvious from the look on his Jenny’s face that she was less than excited about the prospective son-in-laws her father had paraded through the Triple T. “How ’bout you?”
Jenny snorted. It was enough said.
Chance came around the corner of the barns. The surge of excitement at seeing her dimmed as he realized what she’d been enduring. She hadn’t been lying to him. After the array of men Marcus had paraded before her the other day, Chance had no doubts that he was serious. Marcus Tyler really was searching for a husband for his daughter. What hurt Chance most was the fact that Jenny didn’t seem to give a damn who won the prize, the prize being her. This passive Jenny was not the woman he knew.
“Is this the last one?” Henry asked, as Chance walked up beside them.
Chance nodded. The trio stood in silence as the mare was led to the impatiently waiting stallion, then whinnied apprehensively even though she was ready to be bred. Her shrill scream sounded of panic, and Jenny blinked back tears as she watched the powerful stallion dancing and circling the mare, finally cornering her as he mounted, biting sharply at the back of her neck as the mating began.
“What’s wrong, Jenny?” Henry asked. He’d seen the sudden spurt of tears and been shocked by the fact that she had then buried her head in her arms, refusing to watch what had always been commonplace for her.
“It doesn’t matter to Marcus whether or not I love the man I marry. It only matters that I live with him, sleep with him, and produce offspring…hopefully a boy. He’s never asked me if I liked any of these men, or even loved one. As far as Marcus is concerned, I’m just a damned brood mare for the Triple T. That’s what’s the matter. Dammit, Henry. He doesn’t even know me!”
Henry’s mouth twisted with concern as he turned to stare at Chance.
Chance returned the stare, unblinking, giving away nothing of the pain shooting through him.
Henry shrugged, patted Jenny awkwardly on the shoulder and walked away, unable to alleviate any of her fears. He’d like to punch Marcus Tyler in the nose. The man couldn’t see what was right in front of him. It was all up to Jenny. She was the only one who could stop Marcus, but she didn’t seem to give a good damn what happened to her. Henry sighed. He knew the reason why.
Chance’s heart swelled in his chest, making it harder to speak, to bring each breath painfully past the constriction in his throat. He saw the defeat on her face and knew it was because of him. She didn’t care about herself because she thought he didn’t care about her.
“Jenny…” His voice was low, the pain of her words sharper than a knife in his belly. There had to be a way to take away the horrible distance between them.
She stared up at him through a veil of unshed tears, for once allowing her vulnerability to show. “Unless you can say it, Chance McCall, don’t even talk to me.”
He knew instantly to what she was referring. And there was no way he was ever going to say the words aloud. If he did, there’d be no turning back. How could he tell her he loved her? What would he have to offer but a past full of ugliness and shame. And love? It was too small a word for the feeling he had for her.
She watched the pain and indecision sweeping over his face. Then he recoiled as if remembering himself…and his place. His mouth tightened and his fingers knotted into fists as he turned and walked away.
“Oh, Chance,” she whispered. “You’re going to be the death of us both. Why? God in heaven, why?”
“Jenny, I’d like you to meet Nelson Turnbull,” Marcus said. “His father and I grew up together back in Missouri. Imagine my surprise when Nelson showed up at the cattlemen’s dinner today as one of the speakers.”
“Imagine,” Jenny drawled, and limply shook the hand of the tall, sandy-haired man who was eyeing her breasts with more than normal interest. “So,” she said, willing to play their game, “exactly what do you do, Mr. Turnbull?”
“Nelson, please. And I’m a stockbroker from New York.”
Jenny recoiled inwardly. “How interesting,” she murmured. She walked over to the bar and got herself a glass of cola. “Anyone?” she asked, as she tipped her glass to her lips.
“I’d love a whiskey, neat,” Nelson said as he slid onto the cushioned seat opposite the bar.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Marcus said. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make. I’ll leave you two kids to get acquainted and then maybe we could go out to dinner?”
“That would be great!” Nelson said. “My treat of course.”
“Of course,” Jenny muttered to herself, and let the sharp tang of the
cola slide down her throat too fast. She coughed and gasped as quick tears stung her eyes. It was just as well. It was a good cover for the real tears that brimmed as she watched her father’s exit.
“We’ve just been set up,” Nelson said. It was the wisest thing he could have done. It took the edge off of Jenny’s resentment.
“It’s not the first time,” Jenny said, sliding the requested whiskey toward him with a skilled move.
“But I’d like it to be the last,” Nelson said quietly.
He stared at her, his pale green eyes mentally undressing the small but shapely heir to the Triple T.
He’d heard through the Dallas grapevine that Marcus Tyler was parading eligible bachelors through the Triple T. Gossip claimed the daughter was a looker, but gossip didn’t even do this woman justice.
Jenny had long ago left the scruffy urchin of her childhood in the Texas dust. She was a well-groomed, fashionable female with more than ample curves. Her shoulder-length black hair was perfectly cut and styled. Her face was china-doll perfect in features and proportion. But there was one aspect of Jenny that had remained the same over the years. Her wide, clear blue eyes missed nothing and, at the moment, were as cold as ice. She might look feminine, but she was still as tough as they came.
“So,” she asked, “where are you taking us for dinner? I’m not going to pretend you haven’t already made reservations. I need to know how to dress.”
Nelson tipped his glass in recognition of her astuteness and smiled.
“Dress up, pretty lady. We’re flying to Dallas. I’ve got the company jet. I’ll show you a night on the town you won’t soon forget.”
It was quite a distance from Tyler to Dallas by car but, by air, less than thirty minutes. This one was out to impress. It was no surprise to Jenny when Marcus came through the door moments later wearing a practiced look of regret.
“I’m going to have to beg off dinner. It seems a problem has come up that I can’t ignore. Have fun without me, okay?”
