Cowboy Fever

by Joanne Kennedy

  “Poor guy.” Russell cautiously lifted one hand from the saddle horn and stroked the horse’s neck. Jodi beamed at Teague and he felt a surge of pride. What she’d said about the kids seeing the animals overcome their handicaps made sense. Russell had stopped thinking about himself and focused on the horse, and he was relaxing bit by bit, sinking into the saddle and relaxing his grip on the horn.

  “I think maybe he’s limping a little,” the boy said.

  Teague turned and walked backward a few steps, eyeing the horse’s feet. “He’ll be okay,” he said. “He won’t ever get stronger if we don’t challenge him a little.”

  “Man, I’ve heard that before,” Russell said. “My physical therapist’s even meaner than you.” The kid stroked the horse’s neck again, but as he bent forward, he started to fall onto the horse’s neck. Overcompensating, he jerked backward. His father grabbed his belt and kept him in the saddle, but the kid’s face turned white.

  “You’re okay,” Jodi said soothingly.

  “I know.” Russell was steady again, but his face was pale and his hands gripped the horn again. “I’m fine.”

  After a series of slow circles and figure eights that gradually restored Russell’s confidence, Teague pulled The Threat to a stop by the gate at a signal from Jodi.

  “Thanks.” She graced him with a smile that was equal parts gratitude, delight, and I-told-you-so. “Teague, could you help Ben get Russell down?”

  Teague started to follow Ben to the gate, but Jodi stopped him.

  “Ben’ll get his chair,” she said. “We dismount out here.”

  “Not at the ramp?” Teague asked.

  Jodi shook her head. Teague looked up at the boy on the horse and his stomach clenched. There was no way he could refuse to help, but with his luck he’d drop the kid or something.

  “Just swing his leg up and over, and then let him slide down to you,” Jodi said.

  Teague reached over and lifted the boy’s leg while Ben rolled the chair to a stop and walked around the horse to play spotter on the other side. The kid was thin, but his limbs were practically dead weight, and Teague had to lift his leg over the cantle. He almost threw the kid forward, but Ben grabbed on and the two of them managed to get Russell seated sideways in the saddle.

  “Now I’m riding like a girl,” the kid said. “Get me off of here before the Wild Bunch catches me going sidesaddle.”

  Teague laughed and reached up. Russell slid into his arms, and Teague caught him easily and held him a moment before lowering him slowly to his feet. The kid clutched his arm, eyeing the wheelchair with a flash of dread in his eyes.

  Teague lowered Russell into the chair. The kid sighed and settled in, his eyes glistening.

  “Thanks,” he said. “That was fun.” He looked down at his hands. Obviously, the adventure was ending too soon.

  “We’ll be coming back next week,” Ben said.

  “Will you be here?” Russell looked up at Teague, his gaze hopeful.

  “Sure,” Teague said. “Hey, you want to meet my horse?” It was a spur of the moment thing. The kid probably spent every waking minute at home, staring at the walls, and Teague was danged if he’d send him back right away.

  “Sure.” The grin was back.

  Teague shoved the chair across the yard without a backward glance at Jodi or Ben. He probably wasn’t supposed to take over with the patients like this—the clients, he meant the clients—but Russell needed a little more time.

  So did Teague.

  “His name’s Vegas.” He paused by the corral. Vegas, turning at the sound of his name, walked over and thrust his head over the fence. Curious, he poked at Russell with his nose, breathing on him and snorting.

  Russell laughed. “Don’t let him eat me.”

  “He’s just checking you out.”

  Smiling tentatively, Russell lifted one arm and stroked his hand down the horse’s nose, looking at first one clouded eye, then the other.

  “He’s blind, isn’t he?”

  Teague nodded.

  “That would suck. I’m glad I can see. I’d rather see than walk,” Russell declared.

  “Yeah.” Teague’s throat was suddenly tight, and he could barely get the words out. “Yeah, me too. If I had to choose.”

  ***

  Jodi watched Teague stride away, pushing Russell’s chair over the rough ground. She’d known he’d do all right with the kids, but dang, he was doing great. Ben had told her Russell was fearful of strangers, but he and Teague had taken off like a couple of kids leaving the old folks behind on an outing. Teague hadn’t asked or anything.

  She glanced over at Ben. “Sorry.”

  “Hell, no.” The big man grinned, but his eyes were glossy with tears. “Little buddy’s having a blast. It’s great. Who is that guy?”

  “An old friend,” Jodi said.

  “Boyfriend?

  “No,” she said. It came out a little too loud. “Just a friend. We grew up together.”

  “Well, I hope he’s here next week. Russell’s got a thing about cowboys, and that guy looks like the real deal. You ought to do whatever you have to do to keep him around.” Ben realized what he’d said and flushed. “I mean—I don’t mean…”

  “It’s okay.” Jodi looked away so he couldn’t see her face. She’d gotten a pretty good start on doing what she had to do to keep Teague around. Judging from the intensity of his gaze after their little frolic in the grass, the trouble might be getting him to go home—unless he’d come to his senses during the lesson.

  But she’d promised, she reminded herself. And Teague couldn’t be trusted. He’d given her that look before, all those years ago when she’d said good-bye—but it had disappeared from his face as suddenly and surely as if it had been erased. And even now, there was Courtney. Jodi couldn’t quite figure out that situation.

  Teague and Russell were still at the corral fence. Teague had yanked up some grass, and now Vegas was nibbling it from the boy’s hand. The breeze carried their laughter down to Jodi and Ben.

  “Whatever you have to do,” Ben said. “I guess I did mean it.”

  Chapter 21

  The next day’s polo practice had barely begun before Nate galloped up to Teague and pulled his horse to a sudden, skidding stop.

  “Hey.” He pointed off toward the east while his horse tossed her head and stamped one foot, mirroring his agitation. “You see that smoke?”

  Teague and their other teammate, Trevor Baines, shaded their eyes with their hands and squinted at the horizon. A thin gray column rose in the air, then dissipated in a flat, diffuse gray cloud. As they watched, it thickened and turned dark.

  “Isn’t that about where the polo grounds are?” Nate asked.

  Teague nodded. “Pretty close.”

  “It’s that Skelton girl.” Trevor grinned. “She’s so damn hot she smokes.”

  Teague shot him a surprised glance. “Hey, I thought you had a girlfriend.”

  Trevor shrugged. “Just ’cause I’m on a diet doesn’t mean I can’t look at the menu. Besides, you can’t have all the girls, Treadwell. Leave some for the rest of us.”

  “No problem.” Teague grimaced. “You can have that one.”

  The three men turned as the faint whine of a siren rose in the distance.

  “See? It’s going to take the whole volunteer fire department to put that girl out,” Trevor said. He slid off his horse, grinning. “I’ve always meant to volunteer myself. Think I’ll head out there. See if she needs a good, ah, hosing down.”

  Teague frowned. “What about practice?”

  “Later, I guess.” Trevor patted his horse’s flank. “Can you take care of old Riley, here?”

  Teague nodded. Maybe Courtney would fall for Trevor. That would get her off his back. He was actually surprised she hadn’t shown up yet today, bringing some
polo tip she’d supposedly forgotten or something.

  The whir of an approaching engine joined the distant sirens, making Teague’s horse snort and dance. He spun to see Courtney’s silver Lexus SUV skidding to a stop at the fence.

  Speak of the devil. Or the devil’s daughter.

  Nate laughed and flashed him a thumbs-up. Tight-ening his lips into a thin line, Teague shook his head.

  “Here comes trouble,” he said under his breath. Swinging a leg over his horse’s rump, he slid to the ground and stepped out of the gate. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  The car door swung open and Courtney spilled from the seat, almost falling in her haste to rush over to Teague and throw herself against him. She was dressed in her usual tight clothes, but her blonde hair was in total disarray, smooth on top and tangled halfway down with a crease showing where her hat had been. He’d never seen the girl look less than perfect—in her way, of course. She wasn’t perfect for him. Nowhere near.

  Somehow, he was going to have to extricate himself from this relationship—or whatever it was. He didn’t really understand how it had started. The girl was a little psycho.

  “Oh, Teague.” She was sobbing, her head against his chest. He looked down at her, his hands spread helplessly, then put his arms around her. He hated to do that, especially with Nate watching, but what the hell else did you do with a crying woman? The only other option he could think of was to run away, and much as he wanted to, that wouldn’t be right. He patted her shoulder awkwardly.

  “The stables are on fire,” she blubbered into his shirt. “The horses—they’re screaming—it’s awful, and they don’t know if they can save them.”

  “What?” Panic fluttered in Teague’s chest like a trapped bird. Troy was over there today. He turned to Nate.

  “I have to go. Skelton’s barn’s on fire and Troy’s over there.”

  “Go.” Nate made a shooing motion. “Go. I’ll take care of the horses.”

  “Oh, thank you, Teague,” Courtney said. “I knew you’d come. I knew you’d care.”

  “I’m not…” Teague urged her toward her vehicle. This was no time to explain his priorities. He needed to get to Troy. If Courtney wanted to think it was all about her, let her. He’d have a talk with her later.

  It was past time for that.

  “Come on,” he said, opening the Lexus’s passenger side door and shooing her into the seat. “I’ll drive.”

  ***

  As the truck swept out onto the dirt road, Teague glanced over at the trembling, disheveled girl beside him. He’d never seen Courtney like this. A black smudge scarred her cheek, and her hair, so perfectly arranged most of the time, hung in lank tendrils around her face.

  “Hurry,” she said, wringing her hands in her lap. “Hurry!”

  “I’m hurrying,” he said. “Was Troy there? Did you see him?”

  “My horse is in there,” she wailed. She grabbed his arm, making him jerk the steering wheel to the right and almost putting them into the ditch. “Oh, hurry!”

  Teague floored the accelerator and the truck bounced over a pothole, knocking Courtney sideways so she tilted into him. He couldn’t find the complementary bump that would put her back to rights, so she leaned on his shoulder the rest of the way. He knew she wanted him to put his arm around her, but he needed both hands on the wheel on the rough country road and he didn’t want to encourage her.

  He glanced over and saw tears streaming down her cheeks. There was nothing worse than a woman crying in silence. When they sobbed and choked and blubbered, you could figure they were just doing it for attention. Silent crying was genuine grief.

  He gave in and put his arm around her as the road smoothed out. The blubbering and choking started up as if he’d pressed an “on” button. Well, maybe that meant she felt a little better.

  He turned and passed under the Skelton gate with its wrought iron arch. Silhouette ranch gates were common, but the scenes cut into the metal usually pictured horses and cattle, or elk and pine trees. Skelton’s showed a threesome of polo players galloping from the right, while a single player on the left brandished his mallet in a decidedly unprofessional manner.

  The smoke had been visible the whole way, ominous black clouds billowing into the sky, but now Teague could see its source. Flames, colored a surreal shade of orange that looked almost fluorescent against the blue sky, licked and flickered, blackening the barn as he watched. While he negotiated the potholes in the unpaved driveway, a beam fell and threw a shower of sparks into the sky. Courtney gasped and drew a little closer. He patted her shoulder.

  “The horses,” she whispered.

  Teague pulled to a stop before he reached the turnout in front of the barn and scanned the landscape, searching for some sign of Troy. Any closer and he’d risk the showers of sparks the barn was spitting into the air. A fire truck from Chugwater, the nearest town large enough to have their own department, spouted water in a graceful arc that plunged into the center of the barn.

  Teague stepped out of the truck and was greeted by acrid smoke that burned his lungs and an ominous silence. There was no whinnying, no neighing, no panicked thunder of hooves. Courtney stumbled behind him, hugging herself as if she could hold herself together through sheer effort.

  “Troy?” he shouted. “Troy!”

  The polo players turned as he approached, their heads moving in unison as if they were one big Argentine organism.

  “You seen Troy?” Teague asked. “Troy Treadwell? He works here?”

  “The simple one?”

  Teague gritted his teeth. He hated it when people identified Troy by his disability.

  “He’s short. Stocky. Brown hair.”

  The players shook their heads in unison.

  “He works in the mornings,” one of them said. “Never in the afternoon.”

  “But he was here. He said he had something to do—a special project.”

  The polo player shrugged. “What would that be?”

  “Who knows?” Teague almost growled with frustration. “Everything around here’s a goddamn secret.”

  The players edged away, as if he was a rabid dog or something. He was probably about that dangerous. Ignoring Courtney, who was choking as if she could barely draw a breath, he headed for the barn.

  “Stand back,” hollered one of the firemen. “Beams are falling.”

  “My brother might be in there,” Teague said. He slowed as another beam crashed and sent up sparks, but kept on toward the barn.

  “Nothing in there but horses,” the fireman said.

  “You sure?” Teague paused and squinted toward the barn. It was hard to see past the smoke, but he could see something huddled in the doorway. Something green. It looked familiar. It was…

  “No.” He charged toward the barn, but a fireman grabbed his arm and spun him sideways. Teague stumbled to his knees and pointed. “That’s his backpack. Right there in the doorway.” Lurching to his feet, he tried to charge toward the burning barn again, but another fireman pitched in and held him back. Teague fought, but they were burly guys and held on tight.

  “Mister. Come on. Calm down.”

  Teague slumped, panting. He’d have fallen to his knees again if the fire fighters hadn’t kept hold of his arms.

  “What did he look like?” one of them asked.

  “Short. Stocky. Brown hair,” Teague said. He twisted in their grip. “Let me go, dammit!”

  “Somebody like that took off on a bike about the time we got here,” another fireman said. “Green bike. Old-fashioned.”

  “That’s him. He rode off?”

  The fireman nodded and released Teague. As the adrenaline drained from his brain, he shook off their grip and dusted himself off. “It’s okay then. Sorry.” He bent over, resting his hands on his thighs while he caught his breath. “What about the horses?”
/>
  “Couldn’t save ’em. Goddamn place was locked, can you believe it? By the time these guys showed up with the key, it was too late.” He nodded toward the polo players, who were still watching the fire with Trevor.

  “Shit.” Teague glanced back at Courtney. “All the horses? None of ’em got out?”

  The fireman nodded. Teague turned and walked back to Courtney, moving slowly to put off the inevitable. He reached her all too soon.

  “Dutch?” she whispered.

  Teague pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said. “It was probably pretty painless. The smoke gets ’em before the flames do.”

  She fell against him, her sobs growing louder, and he cursed himself silently. Knowing the animals were dead before the fire reached them would have made him feel better, but Courtney was kind of fragile. She hadn’t even come to terms with the horse being gone yet, and he’d gone and described how he’d died.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. There was nothing like a woman’s tears to make a man feel helpless. “But at least Troy’s okay.”

  “Troy? Yeah, I saw him on his bike. He was leaving just when I took off to get you,” Courtney said.

  Teague cursed under his breath. It obviously hadn’t occurred to Courtney to offer Troy a ride, or to tell Teague she’d seen him even after he’d asked. She was too concerned about her horse—about her own concerns. He’d been ready to run into the fire after Troy, and she’d known the whole time that he was okay.

  He needed to tell her to leave him alone, but now was hardly the time. She’d be upset for days, maybe weeks. He groaned inwardly. How the hell was he ever going to cut loose? She was like a burr in wool chaps, digging in deeper and deeper the longer he let her hang on.

  Chapter 22

  Teague was pretty sure he’d set a land speed record on the way home, but they hadn’t passed Troy.

  “Are you sure you saw him leaving?” he asked Courtney for the third time. She sat beside him, shivering and sobbing, still so wrapped up in her own issues she couldn’t understand his concern for Troy. He knew she was upset about the horses. He was too. But Troy was his brother, for God’s sake.