Stormy clawed with her four legs momentarily up in the air after she rolled into the ditch. The mustang righted herself and tucked her legs beneath her body. Jordana ran to her and Stormy lurched to her feet.
“Oh, no…” Jordana whispered, more alarmed as the mare stood, holding up her left rear hoof off the ground.
Speaking softly to her, she pulled the reins over Stormy’s head. On the other side, Diablo bawled and continued to run down the fence line away from them. Jordana knew the fence would hold the angry bull and devoted her full attention to Stormy. The mare’s nostrils were flared, and she was breathing hard.
“Easy, girl, easy,” Jordana crooned as she slid her hand over the mare’s steel-gray rump and ran her hand down the lifted rear leg. Jordana’s fears ballooned as she felt the lower leg where the tendon was located. It had a mushy feeling, and already she could see swelling. Moaning to herself, Jordana realized Stormy had fallen into a gopher hole, twisted her rear leg and either tore or sprained the tendon as a result.
Grief avalanched Jordana as she gently felt the entire length of that tendon. Stormy stood quietly, her ears flicking back and forth. Jordana could tell the mare was in pain. Straightening, she looked toward the ranch area. She had to get hold of Shorty and pulled out her cell phone. With shaking fingers, she punched in the numbers. When he answered, relief shot through her.
“Shorty, call the vet. I think Stormy has pulled a tendon. And then, drive out here and bring me some elastic wraps. I’ve got to wrap her leg and walk her slowly back to the barn.”
SLADE HEARD the front door open. He’d just finished taking a shower, shaving and getting into his jeans and shirt when he heard the door. Moving out of the master bathroom, he pushed the wheelchair down the hall. Jordana appeared out of the foyer looking grim. Instantly, his heart accelerated. He saw her face was smudged with dirt, her hair loose and messy. As he looked closer, he saw mud on the left side of her jeans.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, meeting her in the kitchen.
Tearing up, Jordana halted and said in a choked tone, “Slade, I have awful news. I was trotting Stormy between the pastures when Diablo charged us.” She sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Stormy jumped sideways, her left rear hoof falling down into a gopher hole at the side of the path. We went down. She’s got a torn tendon.”
“No…” Slade rasped. Of all things! He saw the tears continuing to stream from her eyes. He knew how much Jordana had wanted to race in the Tetons ride. “How bad is it?”
Sniffing, Jordana said, “The vet said it was a small tear but that Stormy was going to have to rest for a minimum of six months.” She tried to shrug her shoulders, the bruising pain flowing through her shoulder and back where she’d hit the ground. “That ends my endurance career for a year.”
Reaching out, Slade cursed his own weakness. If he’d been whole, he’d have pulled Jordana into his arms and held her and let her cry. He gripped her dirty hand. “Are you all right?”
“I—I’m fine,” she rattled. “I’m sorry for crying…”
“Don’t be,” Slade rasped. Her hand was cool in his. How badly he wanted to console her, but he couldn’t. She continued to wipe the tears from her face. “You’re okay, that’s all that counts.”
Managing a grimace, Jordana whispered brokenly, “I wish I had the torn tendon and not Stormy. This is bad, Slade.”
He watched the dream she had for Stormy die in her blue eyes. His heart contracted with anguish for her. Jordana didn’t deserve this. She just didn’t. Slade squeezed her hand gently. “Stormy is a mustang. They’re as tough as they come, honey. So don’t give up on her. Mustangs have an unbreakable spirit. They overcome odds other horses can’t. It’s in their genes, their breeding.”
Nodding, Jordana couldn’t be consoled. “For years, I’ve dreamed of this, Slade. Years… And when I found Stormy, I knew she was the one that could carry me on these endurance rides. She was my outlet, my dreams….” and she choked back a sob. Embarrassed, Jordana whispered, “I’ve got to get cleaned up. I’ll see you in a little bit….”
Slade nodded and grimly watched her move into the master bathroom. The door shut. He felt pain over the incident. Wheeling toward the counter, he made coffee. Jordana was probably crying in earnest now, and he couldn’t be there to hold her. That hurt him more than anything else. Feeling weakened and angry, Slade hated his breeding bull for a moment. There was nothing he could do about it. Coffee and talk after her shower were in order. But Slade wasn’t so sure he could do anything to lift her crushed spirits. Shaking his head, Slade cursed softly under his breath. He hated when dreams died.
JORDANA TOOK in a deep breath and opened the door to her bedroom. Her hair was washed and combed, and she had changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a yellow T-shirt and put on her leather shoes instead of her cowboy boots. Running her fingers through her damp hair, she reluctantly headed to the kitchen. The scent of freshly perked coffee filled the air, and she managed a wobbly smile of thanks as Slade sat at the pine table, two cups of freshly brewed coffee sitting on it.
“That’s nice,” Jordana whispered, holding his dark stare. “Thank you.”
“I imagine you want something stronger than coffee right now,” Slade offered in a rasp. He watched as she sat down next to him, her long fingers curving around the orange ceramic mug.
“Yes,” Jordana admitted sheepishly, lifting the cup to her lips, “if I were a drinker, I’d be drinking now.”
Watching how the damp hair framed her face, Slade ached to kiss her. Normally, Jordana’s cheeks were flushed with good health and vibrance. Right now, she was pale, and her blue eyes looked like wounded holes of grief. Reaching out, he squeezed her hand gently and said, “It’s a bad break for you, but it doesn’t mean Stormy can’t come back for next year’s ride.”
Gripping his strong, callused fingers, she set the mug aside. “Thanks for being optimistic.” Jordana could see the burning care in his dark gray eyes, the way his mouth was thinned. Slade cared, she realized dully. He cared for her. And her fingers tingled after he released her hand. Giving him a slight smile, she added hoarsely, “I cried my eyes out in the shower. I guess I never realized how important this was to me, Slade. I’d just come out of a nightmare lawsuit, left a job I loved and moved out here on blind faith to start all over. I always wanted to compete at the top level of endurance riding. And when Stormy suddenly dropped into my life when I bought this house, I couldn’t believe my good luck.”
Nodding, Slade knew to just let her talk it out. Women were like that, he’d discovered. Talk was like opening an infected wound and letting it discharge the toxic stuff. Talk was healing for them. He sipped his coffee and simply listened. Jordana’s face was always readable. There was never any hiding how she felt, at least around him. He knew in the hospital, however, she had to mask her real feelings in order to help the traumatized patient under her care. He stared down at her fingers. They were long and graceful. Hands that healed the wounds of others. Did she know that she was healing him?
“I’m a very competitive person,” Jordana continued in a whisper. “I like to win. I’ve devoted my life to being the best at everything I ever undertook. Even with the doctor who I worked under in New York, I made the decision that I wasn’t going to let him stop me from being a damned good trauma surgeon. And I didn’t.” Jordana frowned and sipped her coffee. “I paid a price for it, Slade, but I won. I won back my integrity after he shredded it, and I graduated at the top of my class at that hospital despite him.”
He nodded and pursed his lips. “You’re the kind of competition rider that someone like me dreams about having. You have heart, guts and a can-do spirit.”
“Well,” she said bitterly, giving him a sad look, “it’s all for naught. I don’t have a horse to ride, Slade. I’m grounded. And we both know it takes a year of working with the right horse to get him or her up to that point where you can potentially win an endurance competition.”
; “I’m sorry, Jordana.” And he was. “I’d do anything to make this right,” he told her in a deep tone. Anything. Slade wanted to hold her because that’s what she needed right now. Her proud shoulders were slumped, and her eyes held nothing but grief. It hurt him to sit here and not be able to fix this situation.
“Wait!” Jordana came out of her seat. She stared down at Slade. “I got it!”
Sitting up, he said, “Got what?” He saw her face come alive, her cheeks flush with sudden excitement. The grief in her eyes disappeared in a heartbeat and was replaced with unparalleled excitement.
“Slade, let me ride Thor in the competition! I know I can do it! He’s the right horse. I’m not you, but I know I could potentially ride him and win the money you need to save your ranch!” She leaped for joy and clapped her hands. “Slade, I can do this!”
His eyes widened. She stood before him, hands clasped, her eyes suddenly filled with hope. He sat back, stunned over the idea.
“Slade,” Jordana whispered, leaning over and gripping his shoulder, “I can do this! I know I can! If you’ll just trust me with Thor, I know we have a chance to win this competition! Think about this. I would give you any money we earned. All I want is my dream to ride in a level-one competition. I don’t want the money. If you could just see your way clear to let me try? Please?” Never had Jordana wanted something as much as this. She knew Thor was the optimum endurance mount. He was mustang, he was tall, his stride long, and he had a built-in toughness that always put him in top position to win. But would Slade entrust his valuable mount to her? That was the real question.
Feeling her hand gripping his shoulder, seeing the hope suddenly glinting in her eyes, Slade was at a loss for words. He saw the excitement dancing in her blue eyes, the soft parting of her lips begging him to say yes. Mind spinning, he remembered those photos in her living room. He’d underestimated Jordana’s riding ability, her experience over the years with horses. Yes, it had been in dressage and lower-level endurance riding competitions, but she’d been a winner at both. And more than anything, Slade wanted to make Jordana happy. He didn’t know why, and that didn’t matter. All he did know is he couldn’t stand to see her crying and so sad. And there was something he could do about it.
He lifted her hand off his shoulder. “Sit down,” he told her.
Jordana sat, her heart beating so hard she could hear it in her ears. Slade looked thoughtful, and she knew he was mulling over her impromptu idea. Squirming, she forced herself to remain silent as Slade chewed over the idea. Would he entrust Thor to her? That was the crux of the request. Plus, Jordana knew how desperately he needed the money to put his ranch between foreclosure with the bank and surviving. Biting down on her lower lip, Jordana silently prayed that Slade would trust her enough to give her permission.
Giving her a hard look, Slade demanded, “Have you ever ridden a stallion?”
Some of her hope died. “No, I haven’t,” Jordana admitted. “But I can. I know I can!”
Mouth quirking, Slade kept her gaze. “Studs are different. You get a mare in heat on that endurance ride, and he’s going to want to breed. Studs are powerful, Jordana. They aren’t your sedate gelding or mare. They’re testosterone on legs times ten.”
“I know I can manage Thor,” she told him strongly. “I’ve had all kinds of horses throughout my life, Slade. I know how to handle a horse that wants to run away or do something I don’t want it to do.” She held up her hands. “I might look weak, but I’m not.”
“You’ve never been weak,” Slade agreed. “But a stallion is a whole other proposition. They’re headstrong, and they think they know what’s best. When a stallion is passing another horse, he’s in the heat of competition and he wants to win. A stallion can bite another horse so damn fast that you have to know it’s coming. In endurance riding, a stud can’t kick or bite another competitor’s horse. It’s against the rules. Stallions see every horse as competition to beat. He doesn’t think about being nice when he wants to win. He’ll do things instinctively to do that. And biting is one of them.”
“I won’t let Thor bite or kick at anyone,” Jordana promised breathlessly. “I won’t. I’m strong and I can handle him.”
Slade wasn’t so sure. “It’s one thing to be around horses all your life, Jordana, and it’s a helluva another to ride a stud. All that’s on his mind is breeding and winning. That’s it.”
“You need the money, Slade. What if I could ride Thor well enough to win that ten thousand dollars? The money means nothing to me. All I’d like to do is have a chance at riding at this level.”
She wanted to fulfill a dream. He desperately needed the cash to stave off foreclosure. The look in her eyes, the pleading, tore at him. “What if you can’t control Thor? I’m risking my stud, his breeding fees and his good name. You could fall off, be knocked off by a low-hanging branch, or be unable to control him.”
Nodding, Jordana sat down, her voice urgent. “I know all that, Slade. I would do everything in my power to keep Thor safe and sound.”
He wasn’t convinced.
Jordana saw him open his mouth. “Wait!” she pleaded, holding up her hands. “What if we go out to your ranch and you let me ride Thor in the corral? You could then see if I have what it takes to handle him.” Anxiously, she drilled her gaze into his. Slade closed his mouth and scowled.
Feeling the shift in energy, Jordana leaned forward, gripped his hand and whispered, “Let me try, Slade! Just give me one chance?”
Slade knew Thor hadn’t been ridden for two days now. Ordinarily he took the stallion out on a thirty-mile training run every three days. Thor would be so full of himself that he’d be tearing through his bit to run. The stallion loved to compete. Slade really didn’t think Jordana could control his mustang. And by putting her on him in a corral, there was little chance that Thor would hurt himself. On the other hand, Jordana could easily be bucked off by the vital stallion and hurt herself.
“If you can’t control him, Jordana, you could be thrown off and injured.”
Shrugging, she released his hand and sat up. “Slade, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been thrown or fell off a horse. That doesn’t scare me.”
“You’ll wear a helmet,” he warned, not wanting her hurt.
“Of course. I’ll wear one.” Excitement roared through Jordana. She could see Slade considering the idea. “Slade, if I could win…”
“You’ll never win it, Jordana.”
“But I’ve got the horse!”
“You’ve never competed at this level,” he said heavily. “And even if I let you ride Thor, that’s no promise you’ll finish. Horses break down on these rides. Quirky, unexpected things happen.”
“We’ll be okay,” she promised him. She wanted to sound confident because she could see the worry in Slade’s gray eyes. “Let me try, Slade. Tomorrow I’ll take you back to your ranch. That forty-eight-hour period for your surgery will be over. You can call Shorty and ask him to have Thor saddled and ready to go. I can ride him in the large arena. You can use your cane and walk out there and watch us. Please?”
Her voice was husky with joy. How could he tell her no? Slade lowered his gaze and stared at the table for a moment. Did Jordana know how much he was coming to like her? Even with Isabel in the back of his mind screaming at him not to trust her, he was beginning to do just that. Mouth thinning, he muttered, “All right, we’ll try it.” He lifted his gaze to hers. Happiness was written all over Jordana’s expression. Best of all, he saw the soft mouth of hers lift, and it sent his heart racing with need of her.
“Great!” Jordana whooped, clapping her hands together. “I know this can work, Slade! I just know it!”
“I don’t,” he warned her in a worried tone. “And don’t go getting your hopes too high, Jordana. Thor’s a handful even for me. You’ll be like a fly on his back to him.”
“My weight is much less than yours,” she agreed excitedly. “And that should help Thor even more in the race!”
Slade grunted. That was true, and he hadn’t thought of that angle. He weighed over two hundred pounds, and she was barely one hundred and thirty-five pounds. Thor could conserve his energy even more with a flyweight like her riding him. “We’ll see,” was all he’d agree to. “We’ll see….”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JORDANA HAD TO HIDE her excitement. As Slade eased out of the passenger side of her truck, Griff came out the back door of the ranch house. He looked concerned as he walked toward them. Inwardly tensing, Jordana knew Slade wanted nothing to do with his twin brother. Compressing her lips, she lifted her hand in greeting to Griff as he approached. He smiled a little and nodded in her direction.
“Hey, I’m glad to see you home,” Griff said to his brother as he rounded the front of the truck.
Glaring at Griff, Slade leaned heavily on the aluminum cane. He hated looking weak. “I’m fine. Now why don’t you leave me alone?” He saw his twin’s eyes widen with shock. Right now, Slade did not want his brother around.
Halting, Griff said, “I’ve been working with Shorty while you’ve been in the hospital.”
Limping toward the barn, Slade said, “It’s about time.”
Jordana came up. “Good morning, Griff.”
“Hi, Dr. Lawson,” he said, tipping his hat to her.
She looked into his eyes and saw pain in them. Slade had rebuffed him without a second thought. “We’re going to try me out on Thor over in that corral,” she said, pointing toward it.
“Oh?” Griff said, falling in step with her.
“With Slade’s wound, he can’t ride his stallion in the competition,” she explained. Slowing down to let Slade keep the lead up to the training barn, Jordana added, “And Stormy pulled a tendon yesterday and I can’t ride her.”
The Last Cowboy Page 14
