“Rest assured, your daughter won’t find herself in any situation she doesn’t want to be in,” he said at last.
That wasn’t much comfort, but Evan realized it was the only reassurance he was going to get. He had a lot of confidence in his daughter. She had managed to handle herself in some pretty tight situations. “All right,” he said. “I suppose that’s the most I can ask. I’ll make sure Candy is downstairs for breakfast tomorrow. Say about eight o’clock?”
“I’ll be there,” Garth said. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of making the necessary excuses for my change of mind. Your daughter won’t suspect a thing.”
CHAPTER THREE
Candy stared suspiciously at Garth. Against all reason, he had joined her and her father for breakfast in the hotel dining room. Then her father had suddenly remembered an appointment and left her alone with the rancher.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
Garth shrugged. “I changed my mind.”
Candy sat stunned for a moment. Then she smiled. “I’m so glad.” Her face lit up with happiness, but it didn’t take long for a shadow to cloud her joy. Her teeth caught her lower lip and her brow furrowed.
“What changed your mind, Garth? My father didn’t—”
“I figured I’d have a better chance of getting what I want from you if I had you closer to home,” Garth said.
“Oh.” Candy thought about that for a moment. The roguish grin on Garth’s face left little doubt what it was he really wanted from her in exchange for the knowledge she wanted from him. “I think it only fair to warn you that I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t have to be burned twice to learn it’s dangerous to stick your hand in the fire.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I plan to keep my distance from you at Hawk’s Way.”
“That’s going to be a little difficult, considering the fact we’ll be working side by side every day,” Garth pointed out.
Candy gave an exasperated snort. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m afraid I do. Lest there be any misunderstanding, I’m agreeing to this arrangement because I want you in my bed. I’m going to do my level best while you’re at Hawk’s Way to convince you to join me there. Now that all the cards are on the table, do you still want to come?”
“Oh, I’m coming,” Candy reassured him. “That was never in doubt. Only, as long as we’re both being so honest, I think you should know that I’m cured of the love or infatuation or whatever it was I felt for you three years ago. I won’t set my heart on a platter and watch you refuse it again. You’re welcome to do your best to seduce me. But I’d never have sex with a man I didn’t love. If you’re smart, you won’t waste your time trying.”
“It’s my time.” Garth was irritated, infuriated and not sure why. He didn’t want her love. Why the hell would she think he cared whether she offered it to him? All he wanted was the pleasure two consenting adults could enjoy in bed together. Candy’s opposition only increased his desire for her and made the chase that much more interesting. She would give in sooner or later. He had never met a woman yet who hadn’t.
“I’ll expect you at Hawk’s Way by the end of next week,” he said.
“So soon?”
Garth arched a questioning brow. “Is there something you need to do before you start?”
“Not really.” Candy thought of the spring charity ball she had been planning to attend in Fort Worth. She would have to call Edward Vargas and break their date. “No, no problem at all,” she said. “I’ll be there next Friday.”
* * *
On the following Friday, Garth was on tenterhooks from the moment he woke up. He couldn’t sit still for breakfast, and Charlie One Horse kicked him out of the kitchen when he complained about the coffee.
“Get out of here and go to work,” Charlie ordered. “Either that filly’ll show up or she won’t. Worryin’ about it ain’t goin’ to change anythin’.”
Garth saddled up a three-year-old quarter horse and began working him in the corral. A cutting horse was bred and trained to separate a cow from the herd and keep it from rejoining the other animals.
In olden days, as now, cutting cattle from the herd was a necessary function in order to brand animals or to dose them with medicine. Garth had the satisfaction of knowing that the sport for which he trained his horses also had a utilitarian purpose. Some horses were suited for the sport and thrived on the competition. Others didn’t. The ability to stop and turn on a dime was of ultimate importance if the horse was going to be able to keep ahead of the cow.
Garth put the three-year-old through his paces, making sure to stop and back the horse at each turn so the animal kept his weight on his heels, giving his front end mobility. He gripped the saddle horn and hung on, giving commands with his knees while the horse leaped, dodged and wheeled with breathtaking speed to keep the cow at bay.
Garth was concentrating hard on what he was doing. It wasn’t until he gave his horse a pat on the neck at the end of the workout that he realized Candy had been standing with her arms folded over the top rail of the corral watching him.
“He’s wonderful!” she said.
“He needs more work,” Garth countered.
Candy bit back the compliment she had been about to make about Garth’s riding, certain he would only contradict her about that, as well.
Garth kneed the stallion toward Candy as she slipped through the wooden bars and approached him. When Garth stepped down from the saddle, Candy ran her hands knowingly over the quarter horse checking his conformation. She looked to see whether he had low hocks that could handle the abrupt stops, slides and pivots required of a cutting horse.
“He’s a beauty,” she said. “What’s his name?”
“Stop and Go.”
Candy grinned. “That certainly fits.” She followed Garth as he led the horse into the barn to unsaddle him. “What were you teaching him today?”
“The basics,” Garth said, unconsciously beginning the lessons he had promised to teach. “Traveling with the cow. Stopping, collecting, and moving his front end to stay with the cow.”
Garth led the horse into one of the stalls. Candy closed the door behind him, then stood on the bottom rail and leaned over to watch while Garth unsaddled the animal.
“I noticed Stop and Go works with his head up. Does that slow him down?” she asked.
Garth shook his head. “All horses are different. Some work with their heads up, some down. What’s most important is the stop that sets up the turn.” Garth temporarily set the saddle on the side of the stall, slipped off the bridle and replaced it with a halter.
Candy stepped down off the stall door and opened it as Garth came back through with the sweaty horse.
“You can take him out back and hose him off now,” Garth said.
Candy opened her mouth to say that bathing horses wasn’t what she had come to learn but shut it again. She had made up her mind to follow directions and do what she was told. That way there was less chance of a confrontation with Garth.
A look down at what she was wearing made Candy grimace. The designer jeans, red silk shirt and matching red boots she had worn to travel in were a little fancy for hosing down horses. “Can you give me a minute to change?”
“Never mind. I’ll do it myself.”
Garth was being totally unreasonable, but Candy wasn’t about to give him the opportunity to say later that she cared more about her clothes than the job. “Give him to me,” she said. “I’ll take care of him.”
Candy accidentally brushed the crisp hairs across the back of Garth’s hand as she took the lead rope from him. It felt as though she had been zapped with an electrical shock. She stared at the wrangler with a stricken expression.
Before she even considered asking Garth to teach her about cutting horses, Candy had convinced herself she was over her infatuation with the wrangler. Her reaction to the mere touch of his hand was a shock—both literally and figuratively.
Candy had believed herself no longer susceptible to Garth’s powerful animal magnetism. Since she had firmly quashed the strong emotional feelings of three years ago, she had figured there was not much the cowboy could do to entice her into his bed. Thus, she was confounded by the surge of sexual excitement she had just experienced.
Candy stood frozen for a second, staring at the spot where she had touched Garth. For the sake of the horse, she forced herself to move slowly rather than jerking her hand away. But once she and Garth were no longer touching, she quickly headed out the back door of the stable.
“Don’t get too wet,” he called after her.
Candy shot him a look over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Boss. I won’t melt.” In fact, a dousing with cold water might be just what she needed to cool off.
As Garth watched the sway of two rear ends moving away from him, it suddenly dawned on him how quickly and easily Candy had insinuated herself into his workday.
One thing Garth hadn’t considered when he told Candy he would teach her was whether she would be an apt pupil. It appeared that she was serious about learning the art of breeding and training cutting horses. Which added an entirely different dimension to their relationship.
All Garth’s plans had evolved around the physical connection he planned to have with Candy. Now he was going to have to deal with her on intellectual terms, as well. He smiled wryly. That was certainly going to be a first for him. He had always kept business and pleasure separate in the past.
Garth stepped to the next stall and began saddling another horse, a two-year-old he had raised from birth. He soon found that he had certainly been right about the fact that Candy would prove a distraction. The third time he let the colt get away with turning before he made a stop, Garth ended the lesson. He didn’t want the horse to end up with bad habits because his trainer’s mind had strayed to some female.
Meanwhile, Candy had turned over the cooled-down quarter horse to one of the hands working in the stable and headed back to the house for a change of clothes. The silk blouse hadn’t survived the encounter. The red boots would be fine to work in, but she wouldn’t be dressing up in them again. She figured she better find out where Charlie One Horse had put her suitcases.
Candy stopped and stared at the place that would be her home for the next several months. She had fallen in love with Hawk’s Way the first time she had seen it. The ranch house was an imposing two-story white frame structure that looked a lot like an antebellum mansion. It had four twenty-foot-high fluted columns along its face and railed first-and second-story porches that ran the length of the house. The road leading to the house was lined with magnolias, while the house itself was shaded by the branches of a moss-laden live oak.
For all its grandeur outside, the house was very much a home. The oak and pine furniture that had been passed down from generation to generation showed the hard wear of frontier life. However, though gouged and scraped, it was kept polished to a fine sheen.
Candy pulled the screen door open and entered the kitchen. “Charlie? Where are you, Charlie?” When she got no answer, she headed upstairs. She expected to find her things in the guest bedroom where she had stayed the last time she had come to Hawk’s Way. A glance inside the room showed it was bare.
Candy pursed her lips and began a search from room to room upstairs. Each room showed the personality of its former occupant, and Candy got images of Garth’s siblings—independent, uncontrolled, unpredictable—as she passed from one room to another. Each step took her closer to the end of the hall, where she knew Garth slept. Sure enough, she found her suitcases in the bedroom next to his. Candy frowned.
She walked in and closed the door behind her, muttering her displeasure as she began stripping off her wet clothes. There was nothing subtle about the message Garth was sending. It was only a step or two from her bedroom to his.
Despite her anger at Garth’s blatant manipulation, she had to admire the room itself. The canopy over the bed was trimmed in eyelet lace, as was the spread. The dry sink and chest were antiques, and the back of the rocker beside the bed was hand-carved. Garth had put her in a room that held a wealth of Whitelaw heritage. Candy could almost feel the love and hate, the hope and despair of the generations of Whitelaws who had slept in this room.
The view from the window took Candy’s breath away. The mountainous Palo Duro Canyon area was rugged terrain that had once provided a haven for raiding Comanches. It was a landscape as harsh and unforgiving as the man who owned it.
She was just buttoning up a blue chambray shirt when the door opened.
“Candy? It’s Garth. Are you in there?”
“Garth, I—” Before Candy could say she didn’t have her jeans on yet, Garth opened the door. She glared at him and said, “You could have knocked.”
“I’m glad I didn’t.” Garth found himself treated to the sight of Candy’s bare legs beneath the tails of a Western shirt. “I just came up to ask whether you’d like to take a ride with me. I have to check on some stock in the north pasture.”
“I’d like that.” She hesitated, then said, “I want to know why I’m not staying in the same room I used the last time I was here.”
“The answer to that ought to be obvious. I wanted you close to me.”
Candy’s fists landed on her hips. “It’s not going to make any difference where you put me. I’m not going to go to bed with you.”
“Then it won’t matter if you stay here,” Garth shot back. His eyes slid to her legs where another inch or two of flesh had been exposed when her fisted hands gathered the shirt at her waist. His heart, which was already thudding from his race upstairs in search of her, picked up a beat.
For a few hectic minutes when he couldn’t find Candy anywhere around the barn, Garth had feared she had packed up and gone home. He refused to admit how relieved he was to discover her here. He let his eyes feast on the sight of her.
“If you’re through ogling, I’d like to finish getting dressed,” Candy said.
Garth tipped his hat in acknowledgement of her demand, turned and sauntered out the door. He stopped just beyond the threshold and said, “If you’re not at the barn in five minutes, I’m leaving without you.”
Candy slammed the door behind him. She considered making him wait on her, then admitted he probably wouldn’t. At which point she grabbed a pair of Levi’s and jerked them on, tucked in her shirt and added a tooled leather belt. Then she sat down on the canopy bed, pulled on socks and stuck her feet into a pair of sturdy Western boots.
Four and a half minutes later she was standing at the door to the barn. Garth walked down the center aisle leading two saddled horses. He handed the reins of a bay gelding with four white stockings to Candy and led a coal black stallion out of the barn for himself.
Candy checked the length of the stirrups and the cinch to make sure it was tight. Then she mounted and followed Garth down a dirt road that led to the north pasture. She was pleased to note that Garth had put her on a spirited animal, but she felt self-conscious as the wrangler evaluated her seat on the horse. She forced herself to relax. She had learned to ride before she could walk and had been a champion herself in several eighteen-and-under junior cutting horse futurities.
Still, she breathed a sigh of relief when Garth said, “I’m glad to see you’ve got an easy hand on a horse’s mouth. That’s one less thing I’ll have to teach you.”
“I’m willing to take pointers on anything you think could stand improvement,” she said.
“That’s good to know. Because I have a suggestion.”
“Oh?” Candy tensed.
“Relax. I’m not going to bite you. At least, not anytime soon.”
Candy laughed. “Be careful. I might bite back.” She made the mistake of looking at Garth and saw the sudden leap of desire in his eyes. “Forget I said that,” she muttered.
Fortunately they had reached the pasture where several mares and their foals were grazing along with some stock that was still too young
to be ridden. Candy dismounted and, following Garth’s lead, tied her horse to the closest fence post. Garth’s stallion whinnied at the mares, who looked up and then went back to grazing again. Candy wished she could be so nonchalant when Garth demanded her attention.
She assessed the quarter horse mares and realized she was seeing the best of the best. She whistled her appreciation. To her surprise, one of the yearling colts began trotting toward her. Then she realized Garth had slipped through the fence and was holding an apple in his palm, waiting for the colt to approach.
After sidestepping and tossing his head several times, the yearling walked over to Garth and took the apple from him. As the chestnut-colored colt stood there munching, Garth handled the animal, running his hands over its neck and chest, down over the withers and back to the hindquarters, then down the legs and up again.
“Come here,” he said to Candy in a quiet voice.
Candy joined him, and he began another lesson. He stepped behind her, took her hand in his and made the same journey as before. Only this time, his hand moved hers across the colt’s sleek coat, pointing out the yearling’s good and bad points for her edification.
At last he moved to the colt’s head. “He’s short between the eye and muzzle, has a wide forehead, a nicely defined jowl and a straight profile. His eyes are wide-set, and his ears are set forward and close to each other. Damn near perfect.”
Garth let go of Candy’s hand at last, but he didn’t step back. Their bodies were aligned so that each could feel the other’s heat. Candy forced herself to focus on the horse, not the man standing behind her. She scratched the blaze on the colt’s face and said, “You didn’t comment on the way his neck meets his shoulder.”
Garth had his right hand on the colt’s withers and reached past her with his left to run a hand down the colt’s neck, effectively trapping her between his arms. “It might be a bit low, but not enough to make a difference,” he said at last.
Hawk's Way: Garth Page 3
