The Cowboy's Twins

by Deb Kastner

  “But it’s important,” she interrupted. Red splashed across her cheeks. “You see, I’ve got a mare and her foal coming in this afternoon.”

  “This afternoon?” he roared, caught completely by surprise. When she’d said she was expecting horses to arrive right away, he thought she meant this month, or this week.

  Not today.

  Her eyes widened epically, and he realized he’d hurt her feelings, maybe even scared her. He took a mental step backward, lifted his hat by the crown and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Look,” he said, carefully modulating both the tenor and the tone of his voice. “I understand how important this is to you.”

  “Do you?” She folded her arms in a defensive gesture and narrowed her gaze on him. “Do you really? Because honestly, that’s not what I’m getting from you.”

  He frowned and settled his hat back on his head. “Is that right?”

  “Yes. I’m getting more of a grizzly-with-a-thorn-stuck-in-his-paw vibe. So if that’s all you have to offer, then thank you, but I’d rather figure this out on my own.” She was looking toward him but yet not really looking at him, her gaze just slightly averted.

  Jax cringed. For a moment he’d thought Faith might be different. That she might be able to look beyond his scarred face to the man within. There had been a few minutes at the picnic when he’d thought they’d shared something, if not special, then at least normal.

  But at the end of the day, she called it as she saw it—saw him.

  A grizzly.

  “If that’s what you want,” he muttered.

  Even as he said the words, he knew he couldn’t just walk away from Faith and leave her to do it all on her own. At the very least, there were plenty of fences to be mended, over many acres of land. He could do the work somewhere far away from the house and she wouldn’t even have to know he’d been there.

  If she didn’t want him on her property, he wouldn’t be able to fix up her house for her, at least not directly. But he would find others who could, people he trusted to do their best work and give her a good deal for it.

  “Go.” She choked out the word and pointed at his truck. “Just go.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” He nodded and tipped his hat, conceding as graciously as he knew how. His gut tightened painfully but he ignored it. “Best wishes to you with your hobby horses.”

  * * *

  Hobby horses.

  Hobby horses? Had he just referred to her future mustang rescue as a hobby?

  “Jax.”

  He was halfway to his truck and didn’t even bother to acknowledge her.

  “Jax,” she said again, her tone urgent as she hurried to catch up with him.

  How rude of him to outright ignore her. Hadn’t his mother taught him manners? She grabbed his elbow and yanked him around to face her.

  “How dare you make fun of my work!”

  He blew out a breath, ran a hand across his jaw and then lifted his hat and threaded his fingers through his thick dark brown curls.

  “Look. That probably came out all wrong.”

  “Ya think?”

  He held up a hand in surrender. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “Well, you—you—” she stammered. Tears welled in her eyes, and she dashed them away with the back of her hand.

  Why, oh why did she have to cry when she got angry? The wetness gleaming in her eyes probably just reinforced everything Jax was already thinking about her—that she was a fragile, foolish woman who bawled at the drop of a hat and couldn’t possibly be successful running any kind of ranch, much less a wild-horse refuge.

  When she finally dared to glance up at him, she didn’t find judgment or censure in the chocolate depths of his eyes.

  He looked as uncomfortable as all get-out and downright flustered.

  Now, what did he have to be anxious about? She was the one who’d apparently planned herself into a corner—or rather, failed to plan enough for these early stages when there was so much that needed to be done.

  Whatever it was, Jax wasn’t taking her seriously. And that was a problem.

  Fences or no fences, those horses would arrive in the space of a couple of hours, and she needed to be as prepared as possible for them. She’d thought she’d be further along. She was willing to admit it was taking her longer to perform what she’d expected to be simple ranch chores—chores she’d performed hundreds of times when she’d worked on ranches before. She hadn’t allowed for the extra time it would take when she was working with run-down or missing equipment and no extra sets of hands. If she’d made mistakes—and she privately admitted she had—she would work it out.

  She had to.

  What she didn’t have time for was to deal with this giant of a cowboy making fun of her and her work.

  “Don’t cry,” he murmured, reaching out for her and then awkwardly dropping his arms again. “Please. I really didn’t mean to—”

  “I’m not crying,” she snapped, dashing the wetness from her cheeks.

  Stupid tears.

  A muscle in the corner of his jaw ticked as his gaze followed the path of her hand. Clearly, he wasn’t convinced. And why should he be?

  He didn’t believe anything about her—not that she was happy living simply for the time being while she funneled all her time and resources into her horses, or even that she was capable of running this rescue at all.

  Maybe he was right.

  The niggling doubt that haunted her late at night when she couldn’t sleep worked its way into her chest, pressing into her lungs and making it difficult for her to breathe. Adrenaline coursed through her, the fight-or-flight instinct that challenged her to run away from the difficult and unknown.

  She chose Door #1. She would fight. She would not run. She would do this thing, and no cowboy—or a whole herd of them—was going to convince her otherwise.

  She was just barely managing to tamp her hidden anxieties back into the recesses of her mind when a shiny new red truck pulled into her driveway, hauling an incongruently beat-up two-horse trailer.

  Oh, no.

  Panic revved Faith’s pulse even more, charging it into overdrive, and heat flushed her face.

  They were here. Her first rescue horses were here.

  She had Alban, her riding horse, already stabled. These were her mustangs. Wild and untamed and Faith planned to let them stay that way.

  Marta Stevens from the Mustang Mission in Wyoming waved out the window and then pulled her truck around, slowly backing the trailer toward the side corral gate.

  Faith had thought she would have a bigger window of time before Marta arrived. Two hours wouldn’t have been enough, of course, as Jax had so handily pointed out. But—

  “Your horses, I presume?”

  Faith expected Jax’s voice to be laced with sarcasm, but surprisingly, it wasn’t. Not too much, anyway. Mostly, he sounded only vaguely amused and very tired.

  Of course he was tired. What was he even doing here with her? She felt suddenly guilty that she was asking him to spend his day mending fences for her. Why he was helping her out when he’d no doubt spent the weekend getting to know his twins was beyond her comprehension. He must be exhausted beyond belief, and yet here he was.

  With her. And her horses.

  “You ready?” he asked, leaning an elbow against the corral fence.

  All she could do was nod. Words escaped her. There was no way to describe what she was feeling right now. She was so excited she thought her heart might burst. She’d dreamed of this day for so long that it hardly felt real. Her whole life culminated in this moment.

  Past, present and future converged.

  Her feet were frozen to the spot, and she was unable even to breathe. She should probably be doing—something. She wasn’t sur
e what.

  Jax watched her, his gaze unreadable. “Give me a second, will you?”

  He stepped to the side and fished his cell phone out of its holder. She assumed he was checking on his twins.

  She shifted her attention to the trailer, and she surveyed the corral with a critical eye. There were a couple of loose beams, but it wasn’t as bad as it might have been. If a horse wanted to get out, it would. No question. But there was at least the hint of containment. Faith prayed that would be enough.

  “How are they?” she asked as Jax returned to her side.

  “What? Who?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Why, Rose and Violet, of course. Who did you think I was talking about?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Right. My mom is having the time of her life with them. They’re doing great. But she’s not the only one I called. My brothers, Slade and Nick, are on their way over to work on your fences for you.”

  “They are?” Her throat tightened with emotion. Jax didn’t have to be here today, and he could have driven off without a word. After all, she’d ordered him to do so.

  Instead, he was calling in reinforcements. She’d never be able to aptly express her gratitude, much less repay him for his kindness.

  “I‘ll take care of the fences around the front pasture,” he said. “Between the three of us we ought to be able to get it in working order within a couple of hours. Not perfect, mind you, but serviceable for the moment.”

  Faith sent up a silent prayer of appreciation.

  “But the horses are already here. I’m sure they aren’t comfortable in the trailer.” If she could hear the discouragement in her tone, she was positive he did. After all, she was pretty much admitting she was everything he thought she was.

  Flighty. Foolish. Unprepared.

  “Yes, the horses are here,” was all he said. He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. He glanced down at her expectantly.

  As if she knew what to do and he was just waiting for her to do—whatever. But she didn’t know what to do.

  Was he smiling?

  She couldn’t quite be positive because of the scar, but still. His expression was both annoying and unfair.

  Annoying, because he knew more than she ever would about raising horses and he knew it, and unfair because—because of the butterflies his hint of a grin sent whirling through her stomach, made more intriguing by the mystery inherent in his smile.

  “Marta must have made exceptionally good time. She wasn’t supposed to be here for a couple of hours yet,” she said with a defensive tilt of her chin.

  “And yet, here they are.”

  She narrowed her gaze on him and he chuckled.

  Marta hopped out of the red truck’s cab and rushed toward Faith, laughing and enveloping her in an animated hug, nearly knocking both of them off their feet in her enthusiasm.

  “Your first horses,” Marta exclaimed, continuing to hug the stuffing out of Faith. “Trust me, you’ll remember this day for the rest of your life.”

  “I’ll say,” Jax said under his breath, a low rumble emerging from his chest.

  Faith rolled her eyes at him. “Marta, this is Jax. Jax, this is Marta from Mustang Mission in Wyoming.”

  Jax extended his hand, but Marta was slow to respond, staring at Jax’s scar. Jax uncompromisingly met her gaze, and she winced and quickly averted her eyes.

  His shoulders tightened and his brown eyes flashed with anguish as he dropped his arm to his side. Faith glimpsed one second of the depth of the pain he was experiencing and then it was gone, hardening along with the line of his lips. Clearly this wasn’t the first time someone had been taken aback by his injury.

  Personally, Faith didn’t get it. The scars showed that he was strong—a survivor. How was that a bad thing? And anyway, a man was made by his heart, not his face, and from what she knew of Jax, he was pure gold. She’d never been the type of person who averted her gaze from someone with an injury or disability. Jax might look like a bear of a man, but he had feelings, too, even if he kept them well under wraps.

  “I can’t wait for you to meet my horses,” Faith said a little too brightly, desperate to distract him. “The mama is Willow and her colt is Pilgrim.”

  Jax turned his attention to Faith, allowing her to drag him to the rear of the trailer. He unlatched the hook and carefully opened the doors to reveal a bay-and-white pinto mare and her nearly identical offspring.

  The skittish colt bucked his back legs and tossed his head. When he turned to look at her, Faith was startled to find he had one brown eye and one blue. How beautiful and rare he was. Her heart leaped into her throat, overflowing with the joy of discovery. Her first horses, and she’d managed to score a gorgeous, unique mustang beyond what she could ever have imagined. How blessed she was.

  Her joy quickly muted when she caught sight of the mare’s stark condition. Her entire rib cage was as visible as a xylophone, and her flanks poked nearly out of the skin. The poor thing had very little flesh on her bones at all. Her coat was dull and patches of hair were falling out. It was a wonder she’d birthed a healthy foal at all in the shape she was in.

  “Do you see?” she whispered, laying a hand on Jax’s elbow. “Do you understand now?”

  He looked down at her and nodded. “I see why you’re rushing things. Do you mind?” He gestured toward the mare.

  “Please.”

  Jax spoke to the horse in a low, rich, lyrical tone. The mare pricked up her ears. Faith thought she might spook as the colt had done, but she just shivered.

  “Easy there, girl.” Jax’s voice held such a calming effect that even Faith felt soothed by the gentle vocal caress. “You don’t want to upset your little one. It’s all good. We’re going to take care of you. No worries. You’re home now.”

  Home.

  Faith’s chest was full to bursting. These horses were home, and they would benefit from every bit of her time and attention. With her help, Willow would regain the weight she’d lost and her coat would turn shiny and beautiful again. Her colt would grow up happy and free.

  Free to live.

  Free to run on Faith’s thousand acres.

  Free to flourish as wild horses should, with no man-made expectations or agenda.

  It was only a few more minutes before Jax’s brothers arrived. Slade perused the front meadow and made the same estimate Jax had—one or two hours of labor at the most. Tools in hand, he and Nick headed out to the fence line.

  “I think we can unload the horses into the corral now,” Jax said, unhooking the rope strung across the back of the trailer. “I’m sure they want to stretch their legs.”

  Faith agreed, but she was bumping up against her fear and her inexperience. Back in Wyoming, where she’d worked as a volunteer, she’d rarely dealt with the newly arrived horses—settling them in was left to the more experienced staff, who would be better prepared to deal with any problems. On top of that, Marta’s trailer was an older model. It didn’t have a side door to disembark the horses. It didn’t even have a ramp in the back. She’d somehow have to convince the horses to back out of the trailer, and she wasn’t even sure if they would take a halter.

  There were so many things she didn’t know. Embarrassment coursed through her. She cast her gaze downward, afraid Marta, or worse, Jax, would see the panic in her eyes. Her pulse was pounding so hard she thought they might be able to hear it.

  She needed help but she didn’t know how to ask for it.

  How did one unload a wild mustang from an old trailer?

  She glanced up and found Jax staring right at her, his gaze narrowed as if he was trying to figure her out.

  Fat chance of that.

  She was an enigma even to herself at times, now being one of them. She was at once as excited and
as scared as she’d ever been in her life. She couldn’t imagine the plethora of expressions that must be flittering across her face. It was no wonder Jax was staring.

  Jax’s eyes glittered as he opened the corral gate adjacent to the rear of the trailer, effectively creating one side of a chute.

  Marta moved to the other side and widened her arms to block off that path as best she could. Jax briefly caught Faith’s gaze and tipped his head, encouraging her to do the same.

  Faith held her breath as Jax strode up to the trailer, his voice and his steps slow, even and confident. She marveled at his rich, melodious tone. She didn’t think she would ever get tired of hearing Jax speak, at least to the horses.

  The mare tensed when he laid a gentle hand on her flank, but she didn’t buck or try to bolt. Jax took his time, talking, talking and talking some more as he slid his palm up her back and onto her neck.

  He stopped for a moment and allowed her to get used to his presence and his scent. He wasn’t in a hurry. He appeared perfectly at ease, intently attuned to the animal, communicating with words and without. It was a wondrous sight to behold, and it took Faith’s breath away.

  When Jo had said Jax was a genius with horses, she hadn’t been kidding. Faith had never seen anything like it.

  After another minute had passed, Jax slipped his arm under Willow’s neck and pressed gently, urging the horse to step backward. Every time she balked or protested, every time her nostrils flared or her ears pinned back, Jax would stop and wait until she was once again calm and in tune with his own serenity. He displayed endless patience, coaxing Willow backward and chuckling when the foal nudged his thigh with his muzzle, impatient for it to be his turn for attention.

  He backed the mare up until her rear legs were on solid ground. Willow shifted and tossed her head but Jax took it in stride, his melodic murmuring never ceasing.

  “One more step, girl. You can do it. I know you can. And then you and your little one will be free to run.”

  If Faith didn’t know better, she would have thought that the mare understood Jax’s words, for in a moment more he had her off the trailer and into the corral with her colt right on her heels.