by Marin Thomas
“It’s been a while since I cooked for cowboys. Next time I’ll remember to double the servings.” Josie’s mother began collecting the empty bowls.
“How’s about a little music while our food settles?” Slim removed a harmonica from his pocket.
“What’s that?” Matt asked.
“A tin sandwich.” Slim pressed his mouth to the piece and heavenly sounds filled the air.
“Always wanted to learn how to play one of those things,” Josie’s father said. “You know ‘The Old Chisholm Trail’?”
“Well, now, let’s see if I remember….” Slim played and Ricky sang along, slapping his hand against his thigh. Then Josie’s parents joined in at the chorus.
As soon as the song ended, Dexter stood. “Mrs. Charles, I’d like to thank you for your hospitality, but we’d best head home.”
Dexter shook Josie’s father’s hand, tipped his hat to her mother and patted Matt on the back. “I’ll see you soon for another riding lesson.”
Where’s my goodbye?
While the ranch hands showered Mrs. Charles with more compliments on the meal, Dexter sneaked out the side gate. Josie followed.
“Dex, wait.” She trotted to catch up to him. “Is everything all right?”
“What? Um, yeah, everything’s fine.” He stopped at his truck. “I forgot to mention Dusty called this morning.” His neutral expression gave no clue if the call had been good or bad. “Oh?”
“He’s not sure when he’ll leave Canada, but he asked that I look after you and Matt.”
Dexter had gone to all the trouble to move Lazy S cattle out of an obligation to his brother and not because…because…of me. “Matt and I don’t need looking after. We’ve managed fine on our own.”
Her comment drew a grimace from Dexter. He cleared his throat. “One of the heifers has a bad case of pinkeye. Bill Chester will be out tomorrow to examine the cow.”
“Are you coming with him?” She winced at the breathless note in her voice, but forgot her embarrassment the moment Dexter’s blue-eyed stare latched onto her mouth. Her lips tingled from the intensity of his stare.
“I hadn’t planned to. I’ve got chores to catch up on and a stallion to work with.”
The cold note in Dexter’s voice signaled his intention to put some distance between them. Why was she surprised? Hadn’t he been the one to step back from their friendship in high school? What did it matter if she and Dexter never renewed their friendship—once Dusty returned and they informed their parents about Matt, all hell would break loose between the families. The Codys were a fiercely loyal clan.
No matter how she and Dexter felt about each other, he’d never take her side.
Chapter Six
“You sure you wanna go in there with him?” Big Ben asked Dexter as the men stood outside the round pen.
“Yep.” Earlier in the morning Dexter had phoned Josie to remind her he wouldn’t be accompanying the vet to check on her father’s cows, because he’d intended to work with the mustang. In reality he’d spouted the excuse to avoid Josie altogether. He might not be with her physically, but his mind was having a heck of a time letting go of the woman.
“He needs to be pushed.” Dexter referred to the horse. The stallion was the most stubborn animal he’d ever worked with. He would have to do more than whisper if he intended to board the mustang at the Lazy S. Masterson claimed he hadn’t wanted to name the animal until he was certain he’d keep him. But a horse as magnificent and prideful as this one deserved a title of respect. Dexter decided to call him Zeus—because this stallion had ruled his world before he’d been captured.
Right now Dexter wished he had the power to control his world. If he did, he’d ban Josie from his thoughts. Last night she’d visited his dreams. First, they’d sat together in English class. Next, they’d parked at the drive-in movies. Later they’d danced at the Spotted Horse Saloon. And then they’d kissed… Dexter had woken in a cold sweat.
What was the matter with him? Josie was off-limits. She and Matt belonged with Dusty. Whatever Dexter had felt for her in high school had ended in high school. That he hadn’t been brave enough to tell her how he’d felt all those years ago was nobody’s fault but his own. Shame settled over his shoulders like a wet horse blanket. No decent man would covet his brother’s woman.
And it was only a matter of time before Dusty and Josie agreed that the best road for them to take was the one that led straight to the altar. Dexter had feared if he’d tried to fall asleep again he would continue to dream of Josie, so he’d filled a thermos with coffee and sat with Zeus until sunrise.
“Here.” Big Ben held out a nylon web halter with a flat cotton lunge line. Dexter wore a pair of leather work gloves to prevent rope burns because he didn’t trust the stallion not to fight him.
Ricky exited the barn. “I got twenty bucks that says the mustang won’t let Dexter get close enough to put a halter on him.”
“I’ll see your twenty and raise you twenty more that the boss gets a halter on Zeus,” Big Ben said.
“Is that all my life’s worth—forty bucks?” Dexter grinned.
“I want in.” Slim joined the group.
“For or against me?” Dexter asked.
“Boss, only a fool would bet against you. Fifty bucks says you get a halter on the horse.” Slim spit tobacco at the ground.
Dexter smirked at Ricky. “Care to change your wager?”
“Nope. You’re going down,” Ricky said.
“We’ll see about that.” Dexter pulled the brim of his hat to settle it more snugly on his head. “Now everybody quiet and leave me to my whispering.”
The men backed up a respectable distance and remained silent. Dexter closed his eyes and took deep breaths, until the tension drained from his body. The problem was when he relaxed, so did his brain and darned if Josie didn’t find a way to slip past his defenses.
He could blame his initial attraction to Josie on nostalgic feelings from days gone by. Or that he was horny because he hadn’t been with another woman since Shannon. But the truth was…Josie intrigued him more today than she had in high school, which made no sense. She was tied tighter to Dusty now than ever before. He admired Josie for raising a child on her own and not looking to a man to rescue her.
But as much as Dexter respected Josie’s independent spirit, he didn’t understand or condone her decision not to inform Dusty of her pregnancy. Dusty had already lost four years with his son, and Dexter was determined that he wouldn’t get in the way or give Josie a reason to change her mind about allowing Dusty and the Codys to be a part of Matt’s life.
Family comes first. Dexter was closer to Dusty than any of his siblings. They were more than brothers—they were twins. Their bond went deeper than most brothers’ and, by God, Dexter refused to destroy their relationship because he couldn’t control his impulses around Josie.
Zeus neighed, startling Dexter. He opened his eyes to find the mustang had moved closer to the gate. Had the horse sensed Dexter’s distress?
“Would you look at that,” Ricky whispered. “He made Zeus come to him.”
“Quiet or the horse will bolt,” Big Ben said.
You may not believe it, Zeus, but this halter is your lifeline. You have to trust humans or you’ll be running wild in Heaven not on earth.
The mustang pawed the dirt and snorted. His eyes pleaded for mercy.
No can do, big guy. Dexter opened the gate and stepped inside the pen. The animal’s hindquarters bunched, ready for flight.
Nice and easy… One step forward.
The stallion stood his ground, boldly daring Dexter to crowd him.
Trust me, Zeus. Another step forward. Then another. Dexter stopped nose-to-nose with the stallion. Lower your head.
Zeus raised his head and snorted, spraying Dexter’s shirt.
That’s okay. I’m a patient man. Slowly, he lifted the halter.
The stallion backed up, paused, then moved forward, nudging the nylon halter wi
th his nose.
Dexter gently eased the contraption over the horse’s head.
“Well, heck,” Ricky grumbled.
Zeus’s body quivered with tension as Dexter held up the lunge line. The stallion didn’t appear interested in the rope, so Dexter clipped it to the harness.
Then all hell broke loose.
Zeus reared, pawing the air. Dexter dropped the rope and stepped back. His right boot heel came down on a chunk of carrot that must have fallen out of one of the hands’ pockets. His ankle twisted and Dexter stumbled. Everything happened in a blur. The sound of the gate opening reached Dexter’s ears. Just as he crawled to his knees, Zeus’s hoof connected with Dexter’s butt, sending him back into the dirt. Then someone grabbed his arms and dragged him out of the pen.
“You all right, boss?” Big Ben asked.
Damn, his ass hurt. “Help me up,” Dexter said. As soon as he stood pain shot through his right butt cheek.
“Maybe a doctor ought to take a look at your backside.” Slim’s grin almost split his face in half.
“I guess I’m out fifty bucks,” Ricky said. Then he nudged Slim in the arm. “You’ll have to wait until payday. I got a date with Karleen Saturday night.”
While Slim and Ben harassed Ricky about his date, Dexter hobbled off to lick his wounded pride. Zeus was turning out to be a real pain in the ass—literally.
Riding lessons with Matt would have to be put on hold for a few days—until Dexter could haul himself up on a horse. Considering he was so torn up inside over Josie, the kick in the behind might have been just what he’d needed. By the time his butt cheek healed, he’d have figured out how to erect a wall between him and Josie.
“WHEN’S MR. D GONNA LET me ride a horse again?” Matt asked Josie as the pickup bumped along a dirt road on her father’s ranch. She’d planned a Saturday-afternoon fishing trip in hopes her son would forget Dexter’s promise. Fat chance.
“Mr. D’s a very busy man, honey.” Even though she suspected Dusty’s absence added to Dexter’s workload, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. In all the years she’d known Dexter, he’d never reneged on a pledge. “I’m sure he’ll stop by Grandpa’s ranch soon.”
This past Wednesday Bill Chester had arrived alone to treat her father’s herd for pinkeye. Josie had hoped Dexter would change his mind and accompany the veterinarian but he’d been a no-show. Three days had passed since the vet’s visit.
Three long days.
“How come Grandpa didn’t wanna go fishing?”
“He needs his rest.” Her poor father was exhausted—not so much from physical exertion but from worry. He agonized over J.W.’s reaction when he learned that his son had come to the aid of the enemy. Her father insisted Dexter had an ulterior motive, and Josie hadn’t been able to deny the charge. She didn’t dare confess the real reason Dexter had helped them—Matt was a Cody. She feared the news would upset her father and cause a relapse. Then yesterday morning she’d found her mother studying Matt with a speculative gleam in her eye and Josie figured her mother suspected Matt might be a Cody.
After Josie had broken the news of her pregnancy to her parents she’d told them that the father hadn’t wanted to be involved in their lives. Her parents had badgered her with questions but finally dropped the subject when Josie had remained closemouthed. Once Dusty returned from Canada they’d tell both families, and she’d deal with the fallout then.
“Can you teach me to ride a horse?” Matt asked.
“If Mr. D doesn’t come around soon, I will.” She’d ridden plenty of horses as a child, but the Codys were experts at handling the animals and she’d rather have her son learn from one of the best. Dexter…Dexter…Dexter.
Whenever she and Dusty had had a spat, Dexter had always been there for her. He’d offered her his ear, a shoulder and sometimes a Kleenex. And then over Christmas break their senior year he hadn’t been there. Josie had never been able to figure out what had happened to change Dexter’s feelings toward her. She’d even asked Dusty if something was wrong with his brother but Dusty had blown off her concern and told her not to worry.
“Who’s gonna teach me how to fish?”
“I am.”
“Girls can’t fish.”
Josie laughed. “Grandpa showed me how to bait a hook when I was your age.”
“Did you fish a lot?”
“Until I was thirteen.” Then she’d entered junior high and life revolved around boys.
The road came to a T and instead of veering right and keeping on Lazy S property, Josie took the left fork and drove onto Cody land toward an offshoot of the Shoshone River. The tributary was forty feet wide and fast flowing. She and Dusty had swum there during the summer months when the water warmed enough that it didn’t steal your breath.
After parking the truck she said, “Here are the rules.”
“Aw, Mom.”
“If you don’t obey the rules, we go back to the house.”
“Okay.”
“No wading into the water—” she narrowed her eyes when he opened his mouth to protest “—unless I’m holding your hand. Second rule, no touching the fish hooks in the tackle box. Third rule, no wandering into the woods.” The stream wasn’t anywhere near where the cougar had been sighted, but she intended to keep her guard up.
“Can you teach me how to use Grandpa’s gun?” Matt pointed to the weapon stowed in the locked rack in the truck’s rear window.
“That’s rule number four. No touching the shotgun.” As much as Josie considered herself a big-city girl, she couldn’t shake her country roots. Her father had taught her how to load and shoot the gun at an early age. He’d insisted she carry the weapon in case they crossed paths with a wild animal.
“Here.” Josie handed Matt the old quilt she’d packed along with the fishing gear. “Spread the blanket near the stream while I fetch the tackle box and poles.”
Five minutes later, Josie prepared Matt’s hook. “That’s a fake fish, Mom.” Matt pointed to the lure Josie chose from the tackle box.
“It’s called crankbait—it’s supposed to resemble a miniature fish. This stream is full of brown trout and they eat little fish.” At her son’s doubtful expression, Josie smiled. “Wait and see.” She checked the tension on the line, then showed Matt how to hold the pole. Together they cast the line toward a cluster of logs downstream. “Good job. If you feel a tug on the line, grip the pole tight to keep it from flying out of your hands when the trout bites down on the crankbait.”
“Okay.”
Josie retreated to the quilt and as soon as she settled into a comfortable position, Matt shouted, “Mom!”
Startled, Josie sprang to her feet, her eyes searching the woods for a predator.
“I got a fish!”
“Don’t scare me like that.” She rushed to Matt’s side and helped steady the pole. “Easy now.”
“The fish is gonna break it.”
“The pole’s fine,” she assured. “Let the fish fight for a minute.” Inch by inch they reeled the line in until the fish emerged from the stream. “Congratulations, Matt. It’s a brown trout.” She reached into her back pocket for a glove and slipped it on her right hand. Once she had a solid grasp on the fish, she removed the hook.
“Gross.” Matt made an ugly face.
“Fill the bucket with water from the stream.”
“You said not to go in the water.”
Good grief. “Stay right at the edge and dip the bucket into the stream. Be careful you don’t slip.”
Matt did as instructed, then asked, “Why’d you put the fish in there?” He dropped to his knees and peered inside the bucket.
“If we catch bigger fish we’ll throw the smaller ones back.”
“Are we gonna eat the fish?” Matt scrunched his face in distaste.
Josie chuckled. “Trust me. You’ll like Grandma’s recipe for grilled fish.” Josie’s mouth watered thinking about supper. “Ready to try again?” she asked.
“Yeah, but I wanna bait the hook.”
Her son’s stubborn streak reminded her more of Dexter than Dusty. Handing the crankbait to her son, she said, “Be careful you don’t poke your finger.” When he managed to bait the hook without stabbing himself, she breathed a sigh of relief and moved aside so he could cast the line. After a few attempts, he landed the bobber in the middle of the stream.
“Looks like you two are having fun.”
Josie spun, her heartbeat doubling at the sight of Dexter. No other man had ever thrown her off balance the way he did. Today he wore faded jeans with a big ol’ rodeo buckle, scruffy boots, a tight black T-shirt that emphasized his muscular arms and chest, which drew her attention to the faded patch of denim that concealed his zipper. Add a five o’ clock shadow at three in the afternoon and the cowboy was flat-out hot.
“What are you doing here?” Her question sounded breathless to her own ears, and she cursed herself for acting like a jittery teenager. No wonder she hadn’t heard him approach—he’d ridden Sugar, one of her father’s horses. “I stopped—”
“Hey, Mr. D, I got another fish.” Matt struggled to hold the pole.
Dexter moved forward with a pronounced limp and helped Matt reel in his second brown trout. “Looks like you’re quite the fisherman, squirt.” Dexter removed the hook and placed the fish into the bucket.
“Mom’s teaching me to fish ’cause you didn’t show me how to ride a horse again.”
Josie winced at her son’s bluntness.
“I’m sorry about that, Matt.” Dexter ruffled the blond head. “I had an accident.”
“What happened?” Josie nodded to his leg.
“The mustang I’ve been working with got a little feisty and kicked me.”
Good Lord, Dexter could have been seriously injured. “Are you all right?”
He rubbed his backside. “Bruised pride.” He helped Matt bait the hook, then cast the line before handing the pole over. “I stopped by your parents’ house. Your dad said you’d gone fishing. Figured this is where I’d find you.” He stared into space, and Josie wondered if he was recalling the afternoons she’d spent with him and Dusty swimming and fishing.
