Her Rodeo Hero (Cowboys in Uniform)

by Pamela Britton

  “Do they know what’s causing it?” he asked.

  “They’ve taken blood. They’ll have the results back any moment now, but it could be anything. It could be an infection or a virus—we just don’t know.”

  He nodded. She wiped her tears away with her suited up forearm.

  “How did you get here so fast?”

  He forced a smile. “Hawkman.”

  “Rand?”

  He nodded. “He was at the rodeo. Gave me a ride back. Natalie is driving Teddy back to the ranch.”

  “That was nice.”

  She looked pale, her thick black hair pulled back from her face. Colt’s sister was one of those women who would look beautiful no matter what the circumstances, her green eyes made bigger by the white of her bio-suit.

  “Thanks for coming.” She looked about ready to break down again.

  “Are you kidding? Where else would I be?”

  They took turns then holding vigil, Claire moving to a chair to get some sleep, then Colt doing the same. Adam floated in and out of consciousness, the fever wracking his body with chills. He woke up screaming at one point, eyes unseeing, hands held out in fear. Fever dream, the nurse called it. Eventually they learned it was a virus that tortured the little boy’s body. Nothing they could do, they were told, except give him meds to combat the side effects.

  Colt lost track of time, and was catching a cat nap when someone gently nudged him on the shoulder. It was Claire and she was all smiles.

  “The fever broke.”

  He sat up in the chair. “Are you sure?”

  She stepped aside. Adam peered back at him. “Uncle Colt?” His eyes went wide. “When did you get here?”

  Once again Colt wanted to cry, this time with tears of relief.

  * * *

  SAM CALLED AND OFFERED TO drive him home, but Colt would hear none of it. Claire took a break first, going back to her temporary lodging near the hospital to shower and rest, and looking much more like herself when she reentered Adam’s hospital room.

  “How is he?”

  “Sleeping,” Colt said with a smile.

  She nodded. “Your turn.”

  He took her car, and later on he would look back at that long drive home and wonder how he’d made it. He would have no memory of navigating the roads. His eyes felt like a sand arena and his hands shook from exhaustion, but he made it, his spirits lifting when he drove through the gates of his ranch.

  Natalie was there.

  She waited for him on his front steps. It was strange because it felt like a month since he’d last seen her. He slowly stepped out of Claire’s car.

  “I made you some dinner.” Natalie stood. “Claire called and said you need to eat, then you’re supposed to go straight to bed.”

  With you?

  The thought popped out of nowhere. But, no, he wouldn’t give in to that temptation even though he couldn’t believe how good it was to see her. Last time they’d been together she’d been kissing Randy. Colt had had time to think about that in the hospital, and upon closer review he knew deep down that it had been a kiss between two friends. Randy had redeemed himself, anyway, sending Adam a get-well basket of candy. He’d had all his A-list actor friends sign the card, the damn thing all Adam could talk about. Between the ride and the treasured gift Colt couldn’t stay mad at the guy.

  “I’m not sure I can make it up the steps,” he admitted.

  She smiled, and was that relief he saw in her eyes? Had she worried he’d tell her he didn’t need her help? He didn’t. Or maybe he did. To be honest, everything seemed muddled, Colt so exhausted it was all he could do to stand.

  Natalie had made him steak. He hadn’t even realized it was dinnertime. When he’d finished she didn’t say a word, just took his plate. He stood, suddenly aware of her there, aware of her placing his plate in the sink, of turning back to him, softness in her eyes.

  He wanted her.

  It struck him instantly, the need, the want, the desire. He straightened in surprise.

  “Bed.”

  It was all she said, and the single word shot a jolt of responsiveness through him. “Yeah, bed.”

  But she didn’t follow. He paused by his door, wondering, asking himself what he would do if she came into his room. He’d sworn off sex. No. That wasn’t true. He’d sworn off having sex with her.

  Why was that?

  He’d bedded other women. He could have had full-on sex with Natalie, too, but he hadn’t wanted that. He hadn’t wanted to take a chance.

  A chance at what?

  His brain went back to being muddled as he stripped down, but he still wondered if she’d show up in his bedroom. He slipped beneath the covers and waited, his hearing hyperattuned to the noises outside his door. Sounded as if she was doing the dishes. Would she slide into bed with him when she was done?

  She didn’t.

  He waited some more, but eventually the waiting gave way to exhaustion. The exhaustion gave way to sleep.

  He didn’t hear her come in. Never saw her standing over his bed, staring down at him with love in her eyes. Never felt her hands as she reached out to pull up the covers, or saw what happened when she spotted the scars on his back. He didn’t see her freeze, didn’t see her eyes fill with tears, didn’t feel her finger as she touched first one, then the other long line of mutilated flesh, her eyes full of horror and sadness.

  He dreamed that she kissed him. His body quickened in response. He wanted her. Had always wanted her. He was just so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of being afraid.

  In his dream she kissed those scars. He smiled because it felt good. It always felt good when she touched him.

  He hadn’t wanted to risk falling in love. That was the chance he hadn’t wanted to take, he admitted to himself in his dream.

  “I’m sorry,” said his dream-Natalie.

  No, he tried to tell her. He was the one who was sorry. He never should have pushed her away like he had. Should have called her and confessed his feelings.

  From far away, a voice whispered in his ear, I love you.

  And he smiled and said, “I love you, too.”

  And it felt totally right.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “What do you mean she doesn’t keep her horse here anymore?”

  Laney stared up at Colt wide-eyed, her mouth dropping open. He told himself to calm down. His words had come out sounding harsh, and he hadn’t meant to scare the kid. He’d just been shocked.

  “When did she move?” he asked, more gently.

  “About a week ago.” Laney leaned her rake against a beaten-up fence post, where it cast a long shadow in the late-afternoon sun.

  “I’m moving there, too, at the end of the month,” the girl continued.

  He didn’t know what so say except, “Wow.”

  Laney’s chin thrust up and Colt realized she hadn’t been surprised by his tone so much as upset and maybe even angry at him for refusing to train her friend. Hell, maybe she even knew he’d been avoiding Natalie.

  “Yeah,” Laney said. “As soon as she started telling people she was back in business, like, a million people called.” She crossed her arms. “They wanted her to be their trainer, you know. At these really fancy places. It’s been totally cool.”

  Hostility. He could see it in the girl’s eyes. It made Colt wonder what Natalie had been telling her. “That’s great.”

  She nodded. “I get to ride one of the horses at the new place, too. It’s won, like, a million ribbons. I can’t wait.”

  “Good for you.”

  He was happy for her. Happy for Natalie. Really.

  “And you should see the horse Natalie gets to ride. It has to be, like, eighteen hands.”

  Natalie? Ride? What was this? “I thought she wasn’t going to ride anymore.”

  “She wasn’t, but then she changed her mind.” She turned, picked up the rake again. “She said jumping was too important to her to give it up.”

  “She what?”
/>   Laney paused, looked back over her shoulder. “She’s jumping again.”

  Her words knocked the stuffing out of him. “She can’t be.”

  Laney nodded. “She said it’s actually easier for her to jump horses than it was for her to ride Western. Something about muscle memory.” The girl flicked her ponytail over a shoulder. “She still has to close her eyes a lot, but she said that helps with her spots.”

  “She’s seeing spots?”

  Laney snorted. “A spot is the place where you tell your horse to take off.”

  His heart had lurched, literally lurched when Laney had mentioned spots. It was still pounding as he stood there facing the young girl, because he didn’t like the idea of Natalie jumping again. Not at all.

  It was that dream, he told himself. That stupid dream where he’d imagined she’d kissed him and told him she loved him. Ever since he’d woken up he hadn’t been able to get that dream off his mind.

  “Where is this new place?”

  For a moment he thought Laney might not tell him. She twisted the rake around in her hand, the tines peeling off a layer of dirt.

  “The other side of town.” Laney turned away to resume her work. “The good side.”

  What the hell did that mean? “Does the place have a name?”

  “Hawk Hill Farms.”

  He’d never heard of it, but he would bet Google had. “Thanks.”

  He was about to get back into his truck when he heard Laney call, “If you’re going over there to see her, she’s not there.”

  He paused, hand on the handle. “Where is she?”

  Laney’s smile was full of pride. “At a jumping competition.”

  Good thing he’d been leaning against the door because he probably would have fallen otherwise. “Where?”

  ‘Not sure.” She went back to shoveling manure. “You’ll have to ask Natalie.”

  * * *

  SHE IGNORED HIS text messages.

  Frankly, she didn’t need the distraction of Colt this weekend. She’d sworn Sam to secrecy about her re-entry into the hunter/jumper world—at least as far as Colt was concerned. It’d shocked her how quickly word had spread among her old friends. She’d had three offers to ride former clients’ horses, and one of them, a gelding she’d broken to ride herself, had tempted her to try jumping again. He was young and so the fences would be low, but she had to admit to being terrified.

  You can do this.

  She could. She didn’t doubt her ability whatsoever. Well, okay. Maybe a little. The first time she’d flown over a fence she’d had a dizzy spell, but compared to the spins of a reining horse, it was nothing. She’d closed her eyes for a second, regained her equilibrium and ridden on.

  “Nervous?” Mariah asked, her red hair its usual frizzy mess.

  “Not too bad.”

  Who was she kidding? She was petrified. What if she fell off? But she was tired of asking herself that question. What if? What if? What if?

  The world was full of what-ifs.

  “Well, if he jumps like you’ve been practicing, you’re a shoe-in.”

  Natalie had her entire support crew with her. Jillian and Wes. Mariah and Zach. Even Sam and Randy, although the boys had gone off to the bar area. That was the thing about English shows. Very posh. After living in Slumville, it’d been something of a shock to her system to be back amid such luxury. Her new place was no less elegant than the Richfield Hunt Club, where this week’s show was being held. It’d been a whirlwind process unearthing her old show clothes and curtains, getting together a list of clients, showings, lessons. Thankfully she’d kept most of the gear she’d known would be hard to replace.

  “It’s like old times,” Jillian said, smiling.

  They stood outside the row of stalls reserved for Natalie’s customers and their horses. Nestled in the foothills near Los Angeles, the place was new and state of the art. Two years ago Natalie wouldn’t have spared any of the amenities a glance. These days she had a fresh appreciation for the white vinyl fencing, the pristine sand footing that looked like powdered sugar, and the old-fashioned-looking barns that were anything but, housing half a dozen arenas—some of them for showing, some of them for warming up. She’d marveled at how a place could look so old and stately, yet be so new, and how much money it must have taken to achieve that effect. Never again would she take such things for granted. Never again would she forget what it was like to be on the other side of that white fence, driving by and wishing she had the money to afford nice things. Business had been good. Less than a month in and already she had half her old clients back. She’d wasted no time trading in her old truck.

  “It’s good to be here,” she said softly.

  “Yes, but do you really think you’re ready to ride?”

  All three of the women turned toward the voice, Jillian letting out a cry of delight. “Colt!”

  “Never mind riding. Jumping?”

  What started as a warm greeting died a quick and sudden death. Natalie stood there, frozen, a million thoughts flying through her head. What to do? How had he known? Had Sam told him? She hadn’t wanted him to find out she’d gone back to jumping horses. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  “Are you implying she shouldn’t be doing this?” Jillian said, brushing her short black hair off her face. “Because if you are, you haven’t seen her ride these past few weeks.”

  Natalie’s eyes slipped past him, wondering if rodeo girl was there with him. Carrie or Carol or Christine. Sam had told her she hadn’t seen the woman with Colt again, not since that first day, but the memory still stung. He might not have known she was coming that day, but he’d used the opportunity to make her hate him—but the realization didn’t make it feel any better. She didn’t hate him. After touching his scars that night, dragging her fingers along the physical remnants of his childhood, she could never hate him.

  “Can I talk to you?” Colt asked.

  He wore his cowboy hat. He might have felt out of place in his jeans and cowboy boots, the belt buckle catching the last waning rays of the sun. In a world of Hermes scarves and Polo shirts, Colt stood out like a jagged rock in a room full of smooth pebbles. He didn’t care what anyone thought, though. It was one of the things she loved about him. All he cared about was his family and his horses and maybe his sister’s dogs.

  Not her.

  “Sure,” she agreed.

  Mariah and Jillian both shot her silent looks meant to question whether she thought that was a good idea. She didn’t, but she went with him anyway. “I’ll be right back.”

  Her two friends waved, though she saw them exchange concerned glances before she turned away. Nothing to fear. She was already dressed in her breeches and boots and her long-sleeved cotton shirt—a ratcatcher, they called it, after the rat catchers of old who wore their collars in the same way, tightly pinned around their necks for protection. All she needed to do was slip on her jacket, mount and ride. A few moments with Colt wouldn’t hurt, although they might hurt her heart.

  He wasted no time. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shrugged, nodding to one of her long-time friends, a fellow female trainer who eyed Colt like a new pair of high heels she’d like to buy.

  “I didn’t think it mattered.”

  He stepped in front of her. She took a deep breath because she knew what was coming next.

  “Don’t do it,” he pleaded.

  “You mean ride?” she asked, playing dumb. “Why not?”

  She scanned his eyes, hoping to see a speck of...something. Maybe fear for her safety. Or—what she wanted to see more than anything—a need that was even half as urgent as her own.

  “This isn’t riding around in a Western saddle,” he cautioned.

  She released a huff of laughter. “You’re right. I’m better at this.”

  Beneath his black hat those eyes she studied so closely grew incredulous. “But you get dizzy.”

  “I do, but I can find my seat better in an English saddle. Western sad
dles are too big. I should have gone back to riding English right from the get-go.”

  “But jumping.”

  She saw it then. The hint of something she never thought she’d see. Desperation.

  “It’s no different than riding a horse that’s bucking.”

  His turn to snort. “That’s supposed to reassure me?”

  The very fact that he needed to be reassured, that she could see the edge of panic now, made her want to weep.

  “I’m not trying to qualify for international competition, Colt.” She reached for his hand. “It turns out I should have been riding English the whole time. The posting still makes my stomach turn, but once I start to canter I’m fine. Something about being in half-seat. I can keep my upper body from bouncing and it keeps the dizziness at bay.”

  He clutched her hand. Tightly. Fearfully. Like a man trying to save a loved one from drowning.

  Oh, dear heaven.

  She couldn’t breathe for a second. For about the millionth time since she’d met Colt she found herself on the verge of tears. He cared. He cared a lot.

  She had to look away. If he kept staring into her eyes he’d see the joy that blossomed there. Spot the sudden self-doubt because if he cared for her and she did get injured...

  No. The days of thinking such negative thoughts were behind her now. It was all or nothing.

  For that reason she reached up on tiptoe and kissed him. Hard. “I love you, Colt.” Her hand fell to his cheek and she rocked back on her heels. “Wish me luck.”

  He looked shell-shocked by her words. He blindly gripped her hands, and she could tell he wanted to hold on to her and never let her go. He might not admit it to himself, but she could see it in his eyes.

  He took a deep breath, and instead of stopping her, he did the only thing a man such as Colt could do. He nodded and said, “Keep your eye up.”

  She bit back a smile. “I will.”

  Chapter Twenty

  He didn’t think he could do it. He didn’t think he could watch.