The Last Cowboy

by Lindsay McKenna

  Jordana took Thor in the other direction, forcing him to canter for several minutes before she opened him up again. This time, she was ready for that explosion. And explosion it was! Thor grunted, crow hopped twice and leaped forward. Jordana moved with him this time. She didn’t allow him to run full speed. Instead, she kept him between a canter and a gallop. The stallion had to do as she wanted every moment or this wouldn’t work at all, and Jordana knew it.

  Pleased, Slade watched his stallion succumb to Jordana’s more stubborn spirit. Shorty was cackling and pointing at them and constantly making remarks about Jordana’s amazing riding skills. Yes, she had guts and savvy to ride that beast of his. Thor had never known another rider but him, and for this small woman to come and ride Thor and force him to obey her was simply stunning to Slade. It made him want Jordana even more than before. He saw the muscles of her arms leaping as the stallion constantly challenged her. The set look on her face, her eyes narrowed and mouth thinned, told him she was fighting him every second. Yet, she was winning.

  “Okay,” Slade called, “bring him in.”

  Thor snorted and squealed as Jordana brought him down to a trot. The stud crow hopped some more, but she stayed with him and remained quiet in the saddle, her hands firm and guiding. Giving up for a moment, the stallion broke down into a trot. And as she guided him to the center, she asked him to walk. Tossing his head in protest, Thor settled into a prancing, dancing walk.

  Finally, Thor stood still. Jordana smiled down at Slade. She was breathing hard, sweat running off her. “Well? What do you think?”

  “I think he damned near tossed you off.”

  Shorty came up and gripped the reins. Jordana eased them and laid the reins against Thor’s neck. She grinned and patted the stallion’s sweaty neck. “Yes, he’s a horse that wants to run. Hates walking and trotting.”

  Nodding, Slade came up alongside her. Jordana’s face was flushed, her eyes sparkling with joy and those lips, he found he couldn’t stop staring at, in a wide, joyous smile. As Slade patted Thor’s neck, he wondered what it would be like to see her smiling like that as they made love to one another. The thought slammed into him, and it took Slade’s breath away for a moment. Stunned, he stood there speechless until he felt Jordana’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

  “Slade, he’s marvelous! I’ve never had such a ride in my life! Thor is incredible!”

  Just her hand on his shoulder for that brief moment made Slade start aching from his heart down to his lower body. He turned and looked up at her. Jordana’s hair, once in a ponytail, had been mussed by the wind and the wild ride on Thor. Her eyes were sparkling, and he felt heat flow through him, lifting his dour look on life. “He is incredible.”

  “I mean,” Jordana said, sighing, “I knew he has been a great breeding stallion and passed on his endurance traits to others, but getting to ride him…” She rolled her eyes and laughter flowed out of her. “Thor is amazing, Slade.” She leaned forward and patted the stud’s neck once more. “Just amazing.”

  “He is,” Slade agreed. “Dismount.”

  Doing as he ordered, Jordana walked to Thor’s head and spoke quietly to him. Rubbing his face, which was beaded with sweat, she smiled at him. “You’re one hell of a horse, Thor. But I think you and I can get along. Don’t you, boy?”

  Snorting, Thor’s ears twitched. He nuzzled into her hand and tried to rub his sweaty head against her shoulder.

  Laughing softly, Jordana stepped back, keeping her hand on Thor’s jaw. “I’ll give you a bath, but you’re not using me as your towel to wipe off that sweat,” she told him with a grin.

  “Shorty, take Thor to the bath,” Slade ordered.

  “Yes, Boss.”

  Jordana stepped out of the way as Shorty took the reins and led the stallion toward the gate. Griff was there and opened it for them. She looked up at Slade’s set face. “Well? What do you think?”

  “I think you rode a wild stallion that likes his way or no way,” he told her. He stopped himself from reaching out and taming those strands of hair around her face.

  “He’s a handful,” she agreed. Searching his light-colored gray eyes, Jordana said, “But I controlled him.”

  Nodding, Slade turned and began to limp back toward the opened gate. He saw Griff accompanying Shorty at a healthy distance from the dancing stallion. His twin was afraid of horses, no question. He felt Jordana come to his side as they walked down the center of the arena. “You weren’t afraid of Thor,” he said.

  Shaking her head, Jordana grinned. “Like I said before, Slade, I’ve been tossed and bucked off by horses much worse than Thor. He was crow hopping because he wanted to run.” She met his gaze and thought he saw respect for her in them. “The other horses were trying to get rid of me because they didn’t want to be ridden. That’s a huge difference.”

  “Yes,” Slade murmured, pleased with her insight, “it is.”

  “So,” Jordana said as she turned and stood in front of him. “Will you let me ride Thor in the endurance competition?” She held her breath, never wanting anything more. Would Slade say yes? Or no?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SLADE LIMPED INTO his ranch home. Griff was sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee. For a moment, he felt sorry for his younger brother. But not for long.

  “Take your coffee and go out and help Shorty,” he muttered, gesturing toward the front door.

  Griff stood. He took the mug and nodded deferentially to Jordana as they passed one another in the foyer.

  Slade felt his leg throbbing. He needed to sit down.

  “Can I make us some coffee?” Jordana asked as she walked into the kitchen, noticing the pot was now empty. She saw Slade’s face had turned pasty; it was a sign of pain.

  “Yes,” he said, scowling. Looking around at the kitchen, it was a mess. Dirty dishes abounded. Nothing was cleaned up, nor was it neat. He saw the red-tile floor was dirty, too. “Damn brother of mine doesn’t know how to use a vacuum cleaner, dust, mop or wash dishes.”

  “Mmm,” Jordana agreed. “It’s not like I’ve seen your place before,” she said getting down two mugs. Griff had used the coffeemaker but had neglected to turn it off when it was empty. She quickly shut it off and rinsed out the glass container with hot water so it wouldn’t suddenly crack from the drastic temperature change. The bottom was black with boiled coffee, indicating Griff had done this many times before.

  Slade sighed. “I’m gone two days and he lets this place go. What the hell did his uncle and aunt teach him? All he has eyes for is making millions in the stock market. He probably had a maid he hired to keep his million-dollar penthouse clean.”

  Hearing the bitterness in Slade’s gravelly tone, Jordana scrubbed out the container and then set to work making fresh coffee for them. She desperately wanted to know if Slade would allow her to ride Thor in the coming endurance event but knew this was the wrong time to broach it again. He was very upset over the dirtiness of his normally clean ranch home. She didn’t blame him but didn’t know enough details of his relationship with Griff to make comments one way or another.

  Slade absently rubbed his thigh where the operation had taken place.

  “Are you in pain?” she wanted to know, coming over and standing near him.

  “Yeah,” Slade admitted sourly.

  “You stood on it too long out there.”

  “I had no choice.”

  Smiling a little, Jordana placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment. “You’re a big mama hen in disguise, Slade.”

  The warmth of her hand on his shoulder neutralized the ache in his leg. It was an amazing experience for Slade. How could her hand stop the throbbing of his leg wound? Twisting a look up at her, his heart briefly pounded. Her black hair was now hanging around her shoulders and framed her flushed oval face. She was beautiful, Slade realized, in such a natural way. Jordana rarely wore makeup. Hungrily absorbing her lingering touch on his shoulder, he managed a lopsided smile. “Maybe a roos
ter, but never a hen.”

  Laughing, Jordana wanted to lean down and kiss those lips of his. But it would be impossible to do. He might take such an act as manipulation. And she knew enough about his ex-wife, Isabel, to know she was a premier manipulator. Jordana had no desire to be compared to this woman. “Okay, you can be Big Daddy Rooster.” Lifting her hand, she walked back to the counter where the coffee was gurgling away. Looking out the window, she saw Griff walking up toward the training barn. Thor had been unsaddled and washed, and Shorty was taking him back to his stall in the barn.

  Slade enjoyed absorbing her curvy figure as she stood at the drain board, hands resting on the tiled surface of the sink. The room just seemed to light up with sunshine when she was present. What was so different about Jordana? Was it because she was a professional woman? Unlike spoiled, rich Isabel? He made a mental comparison of the two and had more questions than answers.

  Jordana poured two mugs of coffee and brought them over to the table. There had been crumbs on the pine surface, and Slade had absently corralled all of them into one group near one corner. She took a dishcloth hanging across the spigot and wiped the table clean. It gleamed once more with golden and reddish colors across its surface. Griff was definitely not housebroken, she decided.

  “Thanks,” Slade murmured, appreciative of her sensitivity to him not liking dust and dirt around.

  Coming back, Jordana smiled and sat down at his elbow. “I can’t stand a dirty place, either,” she confided.

  “My brother is lost. He’s lost his job, lost all his millions, lost his self-esteem, and now he’s here on my doorstep telling me he owns half this ranch.”

  Sipping the coffee, Jordana nodded. She could see the anger and frustration in Slade’s look.

  “Now he’s trying his hand at ranching. And he’s no good at it.”

  “Maybe with time he might be?” Jordana said. She saw Slade’s thick brown brows move downward.

  “He came back here because he had nowhere else to go. All his ‘friends’ wanted nothing to do with him after he lost his money. Some friends they were….”

  “What did he want from you, Slade?”

  “He wanted me to take care of him until he could get back on his feet.” His laugh was short and harsh. “Money! Hell, I’m scrambling every month to find enough just to pay the ranch mortgage. He didn’t believe me that I didn’t have the money. He said I was holding a grudge against him because he’d refused to loan me money about six years ago.”

  “What will you do about it?”

  Shaking his head, he rasped, “He’s a spoiled greenhorn. And when his world collapsed, he came crawling back here to try to figure out what his next entrepreneurial idea would be.” Snorting, Slade met her eyes as she withdrew her hand from his. “Griff doesn’t get what hard work and earning your way in this world is really all about. Griff learned about money, how to make it, and his world was about millions of greenbacks.”

  She saw Slade’s face go grim, his mouth thinning. “A lot of people have been hit hard in this recession,” she agreed in a soft tone. Jordana didn’t see Griff as bad; merely out of touch with the reality of the middle class that was the backbone of this country. He’d had it easy for too long and didn’t know how to settle into the reality of having to earn a daily living.

  Sighing roughly, Slade slid her a glance. “You’re always gentle with people. How did you get that way?” And when he saw her soft mouth curve upward, Slade instantly wanted her. In every possible way. His hands tightened around the mug in front of him. He was finding that just sharing time and space with her was like a delicious and unexpected dessert.

  Shrugging, Jordana said, “It’s just me, Slade. When I was in residency in New York City, I saw too many of my friends and the doctors who were our bosses be short, hard and disconnected from a suffering patient. I didn’t want that kind of connection with sick people. I know a smile and a touch can give someone a world of hope to cling to. I’ve seen the way my way of working with a person works miracles. I took what I’ve learned from that arena and applied it everywhere.”

  Slade held her sparkling blue gaze. “And why do you think Thor responded to you?”

  Her heart beat hard, once. Losing her smile, she said in a low tone, “Slade, I know horses. It’s true I’ve never ridden a stallion before this, but they all have personalities. I’ve handled some spoiled and wounded horses when I was younger. I treat them like people, and ask myself how would I respond best? It’s a mind game with each horse to feel him or her out. What will make the horse want to work with me instead of working against me?”

  Nodding, Slade said with some admiration in his tone, “Well, you sure as hell got Thor’s number.”

  Chuckling a little, Jordana leaned back in the chair and held his stare. “I believe I did, but that’s for you to ultimately decide.” Would Slade allow her to ride Thor? How badly she wanted to know his answer!

  “He’s never had another rider but me,” Slade said, staring down at his nearly empty coffee mug. “I broke him gently and we grew up together. I know his every quirk and eccentricity. You didn’t. And you handled him firmly but gently. Because of that, he responded to you.”

  “Well,” Jordana insisted with a grin, “Thor responded when he wanted to, not when I wanted him to.”

  “Yes, I saw him fighting you from time to time, but that’s his nature.” He swallowed more of the coffee and set the mug aside. Giving her a look, Slade said in a low tone, “I believe that the more you ride him, the more he’ll fall in line and respect you. Thor likes to get away with his antics, but you stopped him every time he tried one of them.”

  Nodding, Jordana wondered if Slade was going to let her ride Thor. “Every horse has quirks, Slade. We both know that.”

  “What I didn’t know until I was over at your home was how extensive your riding credentials really were. You told me your mother had been a dressage rider but you said little about your own accomplishments. I was out in your living room one time and saw all the photos, the trophies and newspaper clippings you had hanging on your wall. You never let on that you’ve been riding since you were young, or that you were a pre-Olympic rider in dressage.” He held her startled gaze. “I may be a Westerner and pooh-pooh English saddles in lieu of Western gear, but I do understand dressage. And when you were out there riding Thor, you were using your knowledge of dressage to haul him into line. And he responded.”

  “Dressage is a riding art form that any horse will respond to,” Jordana told him in a serious voice. “Thor is an exceptionally intelligent horse, Slade, but I don’t think I need to tell you that.”

  “He’s smart and clever,” Slade agreed. “But he isn’t going to agree to work with you unless you’re damn good at what you do. Mustangs originally came from Arabian stock. And Arabians are the most intelligent of all breeds. You can’t bull them around, you can’t beat it into them with a two-by-four. You have to know horse psychology and plenty of it for them to respond and want to work willingly with you.”

  “I’m in total agreement,” Jordana said. Nervously, she gulped down the rest of her coffee. Slade seemed ready to give her his final decision. Never had Jordana wanted something more than this. Thor was an exceptional mustang in every way. She now understood why he was the top endurance breeding stallion in the country. Just having the privilege of riding him once was enough to make her appreciate Thor on so many more levels.

  “If I let you ride him in the endurance contest, Jordana, you have to agree to take the prize money if you win it.”

  Stunned, she sat up and pushed her mug aside, holding his flat, stubborn gray stare. “No, that’s not what we agreed to do. You need that prize money, Slade. I’ll do my darnedest to win it for you, but I don’t want it.”

  “You’re not in good financial straits, either,” he pointed out.

  “That’s true,” Jordana murmured, “but I’m not as bad off as you are.”

  Slade winced over her words. Jordana was rig
ht. “Out here in the West, a man’s word is exactly that. If Thor wins, you win the money. That’s it.”

  Frustrated, Jordana sat up, her eyes blazing. “No way, Slade! I love this ranch!” and she jammed her index finger down at the tile floor. “You’re such a wonderful teacher and I’ve learned so much from you in such a little time. This ranch and you deserve to not only survive but thrive. I know I lack experience riding at this level, but I think you can see that I can handle Thor and he’s responsive to me. That,” she whispered rawly, “is what gives us a chance to win that money for you. You must see that!”

  Slade sat back as Jordana’s passionate argument struck him. Her cheeks were flushed red, her eyes blazed with righteousness, and, God help him, she was incredibly beautiful in that moment. Jordana lived in the world of her heart, he realized, unlike him who was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. That is what touched Slade: her unbridled passion for life, for living with her sense of morals and values. The competitiveness was in her eyes, and he liked what he saw. “I do see all of that,” he countered. Opening his large, callused hands, he said, “But there’s no way I’m taking free money from you.”

  “Then,” Jordana exploded with frustration, “look at it this way. You’re paying me to ride Thor! If I win that ten grand, it’s yours. You can set out a training program for me here at the ranch so I can continue to learn from you, Slade. I don’t care what money you assign to it, either. Don’t you understand that I feel more than paid by getting to ride Thor in that competition? Some things,” Jordana said, her voice dropping, “can’t be bought with money. If you give me permission to ride Thor, that’s all I want. This isn’t a money issue for me. What endurance rider wouldn’t give his or her right arm to ride your remarkable stallion?”

  He sat back, digesting her emotionally fueled arguments. Staring at her, Slade smiled a little. “You’re a regular bantam rooster when you get your feathers all riled up. You know that?”