"Don't go anywhere, Maddie. I have to feed one more horse. Boone, you stay right where you are until I eat my fill, you hear?"
When Jim walked away, Maddie looked down the barn, straight at Boone. "It's foolish for you to turn this down. You work too hard every day to miss breakfast just because you're afraid of me."
The woman definitely had a mouth on her.
Boone stepped out of the stall, latching the door, and snorted. "The day I'm afraid of you is the day the sun comes up in the west."
Maddie smirked. "Then you'll have some, I take it."
His stomach was yelling at him to dive into that basket, but he held back.
She sobered. "I know this is awkward, Boone. The whole situation is not what either of us wants, but we just have to make the best of it. You don't need to like me for us to get along."
Beside her now, Boone's hand stopped in mid-air. "I never said I disliked you." Hell, he liked too much about her.
The quick flare of something dark and almost hurt in her eyes surprised him.
But before he could figure out what to say next, she opened the cloth covering the basket and held the basket closer to him, changing the subject. "So these are your horses?"
Boone's mouth was too full of heaven for him to do more than nod.
She glanced at Slow Dance, the palomino stallion on which he was hoping to build his future. "Who is that? He's really handsome, isn't he?"
Boone swallowed. "You ride?"
Maddie smiled, almost bashful. "No, but I've always thought it would be wonderful."
"You don't want to try one like Slow Dance for your first horse. He's pretty even-tempered for a stallion, but that's not saying much."
"You'd let me ride one?" Her eyes were wide as saucers.
Oh, hell. What had he just done? When what he most needed was to stay as far away from her as possible, here he'd gone and opened the door to spending more time together.
But he couldn't take it back now, not when she looked so thrilled. You'd think he'd handed her diamonds from Tiffany's.
He could make it Jim's job, and he probably should. But something within him balked at the thought of not being the first one to see Maddie's delight, if it meant that much to her.
"It's okay, Boone. I understand. You're too busy."
Boone focused on her and saw the disappointment cloud her sparkle. A man who would dim Maddie's glow ought to be shot.
"I can make some time, if you can be flexible."
Maddie lit up like the sun at noonday. "You just tell me when."
Her gaze on him was so warm and soft that Boone's own gaze lingered while a thousand thoughts danced in his head. Her lips were slightly parted, her breasts rising and falling in the rhythm of her excitement. Boone wanted more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life to take her to the ground, right then and there. To seek within Maddie the warmth that his cold, dark soul craved with a hunger deeper than he had ever felt.
"Hoo-ey, Maddie girl, I'm dying for another taste of that—" Jim stopped in his tracks.
Maddie stepped back from Boone, her cheeks flaming.
Boone turned away, not sure whether to thank Jim or strangle him.
Maddie rose to the occasion. "Boone's going to teach me to ride, Jim. Isn't that exciting?"
Boone caught Jim's startled glance out of the corner of his eye. When Jim's weathered face began to crease into a knowing grin, Boone shot him a glare that should have fried him where he stood.
But Jim just grinned bigger. "Well now, that's real fine, Maddie. There's no one better to teach you than Boone here. He's the finest horseman any of us ever saw."
Boone felt Maddie's gaze studying him and was surprised when his own cheeks warmed.
"I noticed how gentle your hands were on that colt. I was impressed, Boone. I thought cowboys broke horses with spurs and that sort of thing."
Boone turned. "That's the old way, and some people still use it. I prefer to let a horse believe that it's his idea to work together. There's no need to break his spirit. You start him early before he knows his own strength, and you teach him to trust you. He needs to respect you and know you mean business, but it's not your business to be mean."
Boone stopped. He was talking too much.
But Maddie's eye sparkled with curiosity...and glowed with warmth. "That's beautiful. It was wonderful to watch you with him."
For a moment it was like standing on the edge of a magic circle, a private space he could share with Maddie if he'd take another step or two. But he sensed Jim watching them both avidly while snatching another slice of bread.
Whether or not he could keep himself away from her as he knew he surely should, Boone wasn't conducting the dance with Maddie in public.
So he pushed her away with words. "I've got to get back to work."
Her shoulders hunched as if absorbing a blow, but very quickly she squared her posture and shook that mane of hair. "Of course. I need to get on to the garden, anyway. I'll just leave the bread right here." She turned away and set the basket on a shelf nailed to the wall.
Jim glared at him, but Boone refused to respond. It was what had to happen, damn it. He couldn't let go with her.
He would do his best to get along, and he would teach her to ride as he'd teach any other student. But he would use the control that had kept his head on straight in the midst of danger, he would use the discipline that had marked his life for years, and he would keep his hands off Maddie Rose Collins.
If it killed him.
But as he watched her walk away toward the garden, he couldn't quite hold the line. "Maddie," he called out.
The dark hair swung, glistening in the morning light as she turned.
"Maybe tomorrow we can start your lessons."
Her smile was quick, her nod enthusiastic, before she turned back and walked away.
Maddie forgave too easily. And it seemed he was always doing something that needed forgiving.
"Maddie," Jim called out.
She turned back once more. "Have all you want, Jim."
"Oh, I intend to, but that's not what I was gonna ask. Are you going to let Boone here take you to the rodeo dance tonight?"
Her whole face lit up. "A rodeo dance?"
He would kill Jim the minute Maddie was out of sight.
"Yep. Ever been to one?"
Her dark hair swung as she shook her head. "No, but I love to dance." Then she went very still. "But Boone doesn't have to take me. Just tell me where to find it."
Boone bit down on a groan. "I guess I can take you."
Maddie's shoulders went stiff. "I'm a big girl. I can go by myself. I've lived in New York. Morning Star can't be too tough." She looked away from Boone. "Can you give me the directions, Jim?"
Jim muttered under his breath. "Sure I can. But I'll do you one better. Velda and I will pick you up and take you."
Maddie's smile was tentative. "Would Velda mind?"
"Aw, hell—I mean, heck, no. Velda would love havin' a woman to chatter to."
Her smile reached full wattage. "Then thank you. I'd love to go."
"We'll pick you up at seven. You like barbecue?"
"You bet." Maddie hesitated. "Well, I guess I'd better get to work in the garden. Thank you, Jim." She pointedly ignored Boone.
"Thank you for the bread. We'll see you this evenin'."
When Maddie was out of sight, Jim turned on him. "You're a damn fool, Boone Gallagher."
Boone shot him a quick glance, then headed to saddle up Slow Dance. "I didn't ask you."
"You hurt that little gal's feelings. How hard is it to take her to the dance?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"She could be the best thing that ever happened to you."
"She won't stay."
"How do you know?"
"I know."
"Because she's from the city, like Helen? You didn't cause Helen's problems."
"She'd be alive if not for me." And so would my baby.
> "Maddie isn't Helen."
Boone rounded on him. "She's on a vacation, Jim. Anything can be fun for a little while. She's got restaurants in New York begging for her to come back up there. Why would she want to be stuck on a ranch in Morning Star?"
"Nobody said you had to marry her. Just enjoy her while she's here."
Boone's temper spiked. "Don't you go talking like Maddie is only good for a quick roll in the hay. She deserves better than that."
Then Jim smiled and shook his head. "I never said she didn't. So give her better."
"I'm not condemning another woman to a life she would hate."
"Damn, but I'm going to be glad when she leaves, even though I'll miss her. You're like a lion with a thorn in his paw, and it ain't gonna get any better until you do something about it."
"There's nothing to do, Jim, except wait. She'll be gone soon enough. And so will you if you don't get back to work."
Jim snorted. "Like you think you could run this place without me." His grin didn't fade.
"Go away and leave me alone. I've got work to do."
Jim started to turn, then hesitated. "If you got any sense in that head of yours, you'll be at that dance tonight. I can't keep watch over Maddie and Velda both, and you and I both know Maddie's going to be a powerful temptation to those cowboys."
Boone curled his lip. "It's not my business. She said it herself—she's a big girl."
Jim watched him for a minute, then he started chuckling. "You know, this is gonna be fun to watch, is all I got to say. That is, if we don't kill you first."
Boone shot him a glare. "I only wish I could believe that was all you had to say. The day you quit jawin' at me is the day we put you in the ground. Now go away."
Jim tipped his hat and walked away, whistling.
* * *
MADDIE PAUSED IN pulling weeds in the garden when she saw Boone and Slow Dance leave the barn. When they moved into a gallop across the pasture, it was a sight that she knew she'd never forget.
Golden man and golden horse. The two moved together as if formed from one flesh. It was a ballet of rugged strength, smooth and sinuous, Boone's strong thighs and the horse's muscled flanks making the breath catch in her throat. She felt as though she'd stepped back in time, like Boone and the horse and the land were part of one another. The sight stirred her at a deep, primal level, and she watched them until she could see them no more.
Then she rolled off her heels and sat back on the ground, smelling the tang of the tomato vines where she'd brushed them, reaching for weeds.
Around her she heard the soft call of cattle, the occasional nicker of a horse in the barn. Birds in the live oak trees around the house sang hello to the morning.
But even with all that, it was so quiet compared to what she'd known. Maddie felt the warm earth beneath her, the wind ruffling her hair, and she knew a moment of contentment so peaceful and deep that it almost seemed holy.
She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face, the breeze kiss her lips, and in that moment, Maddie thought she knew why her father had never told her about this place. It must have torn a hole in his heart the size of Texas to grow up belonging here—and then to become a pariah.
All the anger and confusion Maddie had felt toward her father evaporated like the morning's dew in the face of the sun. She understood now why he'd done it. To speak of this place and know he could never return would have been torture.
I understand, Daddy. And I'm so very sorry.
He must have felt like Adam cast out from Paradise. Just watching Boone and knowing how this place formed so much of who he was, seeing the pain that lingered from the years he'd been forced away, gave Maddie a sense of what leaving must have cost her father.
That he had done it to save his mother, that he had known everyone else important to him would think him a murderer, seemed to Maddie to be a deed as noble as anything she'd ever heard or read.
That Sam had denied him the chance to return was a tragedy, a betrayal of staggering proportions.
For the first time, Maddie truly understood why Sam had given her this place. He had to know what it would have cost Dalton to lose it. Sam also knew how it felt to lose Jenny. And by his actions, he had condemned her father to needless years as an outcast from both the place and the woman he loved.
But if Sam had looked for her father, what would have happened? She had been a child then. If her father had come back here, what would her life have been like? What would have happened to her, to Boone and Mitch, if Dalton and Jenny had wanted to be together?
It was all too confusing—and all water under the bridge. And much as this place now pulled at Maddie, there still remained the fact that she couldn't make a living here. She had a life and a career back East; here she had nothing but other people's broken dreams.
Drawing in a deep breath, Maddie sent a promise heavenward to her father. I understand, Daddy, and I will soak in all of this that I can before I must leave. Someday I will tell your story to a new generation. I won't let your heritage die. I just hope you understand all the reasons why I can't possibly stay.
Then with a heavy sigh, Maddie bent back to her weeding.
* * *
BOONE DROVE UP to the community center that night, asking himself for the fifteenth time why he wasn't at home enjoying the silence.
Maddie would be fine. She was a big girl. Jim was there. He would just watch for a while, then he would leave.
After parking his truck, Boone stepped out and heard the music blaring. How long had it been since he'd attended a dance? Helen had turned her nose up at country music—would Maddie be doing the same?
Would she mentally be poking fun at the rubes? Would the music grate on her nerves? A part of Boone readied himself to defend the people and the place he loved from mockery. These were good people. They worked hard and had little to show for their efforts, either in material goods or lifestyle options.
Simple people who were the salt of the earth. He had missed them all.
Boone nodded to various old acquaintances, noting the tipped hats and smiles. He stopped to visit with neighboring ranchers and quickly discovered word had spread of the interloper city-slicker who had come to town.
Boone was surprised to find himself defending Maddie, more surprised to find himself scanning the crowd inside for her presence.
It didn't take long.
She was a flame glowing in the darkness. Around her circled the moths, batting their wings and courting annihilation.
Boone watched her. And he burned.
Standing against a support post in the darkness, he saw the fire and the fun that was Maddie. In full gypsy regalia, Maddie reigned as belle of the ball. Her red halter top glowed against pale satin skin, the full froth of her short red and gold skirt showing off the legs that haunted his dreams.
But it was Maddie's spirit that glowed brightest as she danced and laughed. She didn't know the steps—that much was obvious—but her good nature and natural grace made it unimportant. Surrounded by partners more than willing to teach her, Maddie learned quickly. He watched her do the Cotton-Eyed Joe and the schottische, her legs flashing and drawing every male eye in the place. When she missed a step, her laughter brought smiles to every face.
Maddie's easy affection charmed them all. Sour old women found no fault, for Maddie was unfailingly polite and never favored anyone. She could not be branded easy, but her sensuality wove a spell around every man in the hall. Yet the women smiled at her laughter, at her willingness to poke fun at herself.
The City Girl had made herself at home.
Boone watched his neighbors with amazement, these people who were never rude but didn't take kindly to strangers. One by one, they accepted Maddie into the fold.
It was torture to watch her, to see her move into the arms of old men and boys, young studs eager to show off and mature men who wanted to claim her.
He wanted to step out of the darkness and tell every one of them to get lost.
Boone felt a gaze on him and turned to the left. Jim nodded toward Maddie and lifted his beer in a salute. His taunting challenge hung in the air.
First thing tomorrow, Boone was sending Jim to walk the miles of fence line. Not ride. Walk.
He merely lifted a negligent eyebrow and turned away from his foreman.
He felt it the moment Maddie saw him.
Her gaze halted on his before moving back to the cowboy whose hand rested on her hip. Boone ground his teeth and meant to look away.
But he couldn't.
Instead, he glared at the man who had the nerve to touch her, even while he recognized that Maddie was a free agent.
He had no claim on her. He never would.
Tearing his gaze away, Boone turned to the first person he saw, Emma Ruth Rodgers. Sixty-five if she was a day, Emma Ruth had never married but had educated many a child in this town, including Boone.
"How are you, Ms. Rodgers?"
"Boone Gallagher, as I live and breathe. It's good to have you back."
Her eagerness warmed him. "Thank you. It's good to be here."
"I'm sorry about your father."
Boone tensed, then muttered the expected. "He'd been sick for a while."
"No, Boone, I mean I'm sorry about this mess he's left you. Sam Gallagher used to be a lovely young man, one of this town's real treasures, but he changed after your mother died. He was wrong in what he did to you and Mitch."
Boone's surprise must have shown, for she carried on. "You thought no one noticed? People noticed, all right, but it isn't our way to interfere. Maybe we should have done something. We don't have so much that we can afford to lose good men like yourself and your brother."
Boone was sure his mouth must be hanging open. He cleared his throat. "Well...thank you."
She waved it away. "No need to thank me. I'm as guilty as any for standing aside. But I don't intend to stand aside now. If you need any help getting rid of that Yankee, you just let me know."
Just then, Boone felt a hand on his arm and turned. That Yankee stood beside him, her smile fading.
"Uh...Ms. Rodgers, this is Maddie Rose Collins."
Love Me Some Cowboy Page 24
