The Last Cowboy

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The Last Cowboy Page 19

by Lindsay McKenna


  Red brows raising on his long, narrow face, Bart murmured, “Wow, she must be a heck of a rider, then. We know how much of a handful Thor is.” And he laughed.

  Grinning, Slade said, “Dr. Lawton has a strong dressage background coupled with two years of endurance riding under her belt.”

  “Ah,” Bart said, nodding his head. “Dressage. Well, we all know a good dressage rider is pretty capable. How’s Thor getting along with her?”

  “Actually, very good,” Slade told him. He enjoyed Bart’s company. There were many times that Bernadette would be in the first ten riders on this particular endurance ride. They were a husband and wife team, and it was their love of the sport that kept them trailering around the United States on the national-circuit rides.

  “Amazing. We all thought that feisty stud of yours was a one-man horse only.”

  “Well,” Slade said with a smile, “he’s got more facets to him than I thought. I didn’t think Dr. Lawton could handle him, either, but he’s completely surrendered over to her.” And then Slade wanted to add, just like I have. Thinking better of it, he remained silent.

  “Wise horse,” Bart laughed.

  “Hey, did you see when Downing left the trailhead?” Slade kept his voice nonchalant and the worry out of it.

  “Yeah, he was driving in his trailer just as I was leaving. Bernadette started the trail at 4:30 a.m.”

  “I see,” Slade murmured. In his head he was calculating the difference. “He probably took off at 4:45 a.m., then.” The horse had to be saddled and bridled, and that took a few minutes.

  “Yeah, I’d guess about there. I’m worried he and that black devil of his are going to catch up to Bernadette.” Shaking his head, Bart lowered his voice and muttered, “I always worry about her when Downing is around. He’s known for his tricks.”

  “I know,” Slade said in a low tone. Everyone on the circuit knew Downing’s maneuvers could harm other horses and riders.

  Looking at his stopwatch, Bart said, “I’d better get out there. Bernadette should be coming in any minute. I’ll look forward to seeing Dr. Lawton on Thor. That has to be a sight to behold.” He eased away from the truck.

  “Later,” Slade murmured, watching his friend carry the water bucket and sponges toward the meadow. Every team had to do a lot of things when a rider and horse came into a vet-check station. Bart had several white towels draped over his left shoulder. In another bucket he had liniment, dressings, bandages and medications. There was a long garden hose strung from the parking lot out to the check area where teams could fill and refill their buckets with water for the horses. After twenty miles, every horse was thirsty. The animals would gulp down one to three buckets at one stop.

  If Downing was fifteen minutes ahead of Jordana, Slade mentally calculated that they would not meet. But if Jordana wasn’t pacing Thor correctly, letting him run when he should be trotting, it was possible the two might encounter each other. He hoped to hell they didn’t. Jordana had no way to counter Downing’s deceit out there away from prying eyes. Did Downing know that she was riding Thor? Most likely—because it was common knowledge between the top endurance riders. It wasn’t a secret. Worry ate at Slade. He rubbed his jaw. The sun was just starting to peek over the mountains in the east. The sky was a light blue and cloudless. It was a perfect day for a test run on the course.

  THOR WAS GALLOPING along on the part of the trail where Slade had wanted him to trot. Jordana’s hands and arms ached from holding in the athletic stallion. She reasoned on this trial run, on one of the few flat areas that was a mile long, it was all right to open him up a little. Thor was bursting with such robust energy that it shocked her. It seemed that every upward, winding mile along the dirt and rock trail within the tree line made him stronger, not weaker. His coat was gleaming with sweat, foam around his mouth from chomping constantly on the bit because he wanted to be let go to gallop at full speed.

  She saw no other riders ahead of her, although they had passed three already. What harm was there in letting him run a little? Jordana knew on this section that Slade had wanted him at a trot. But Thor was so full of himself and she’d been fighting him so hard, she needed the rest. Leaning forward, she knew her weight would signal to the stallion that he could run. She loosened the reins just a little. Instantly, Thor surged out of the trot and into a ground-eating gallop. This one-mile run was across a high altitude meadow filled with dried yellowed grass.

  The wind whistled past her. Jordana wore the helmet and Kevlar vest. Her thin leather gloves were soaked with sweat. Thor thundered down across the meadow with such fierce strides it took her breath away. Jordana knew from the map on her iPhone, that the trail suddenly turned wicked at the other end as it disappeared once more into the evergreens. Checking Thor at a half mile, she fought him back down to a trot by the time they hit that twisting, winding trail upward.

  Shaking his head, angry, Thor fought her as he easily climbed up the switchbacks. They were at nine thousand feet. In no time, they broke out of the evergreens that stopped at the ten-thousand-foot level. Jordana saw the radiant slats of sun just cresting the eastern horizon. She didn’t have time to enjoy the beauty of it. The trail turned very narrow, and they climbed more. Thor was breathing evenly, snorting and still wanting to run.

  As they crested the last switchback to the trail that now lay between millions of boulders and loose rock at ten thousand five hundred feet, Jordana saw another rider just ahead of them. It was Curt Downing and his black Arabian stallion! Surprised, Jordana automatically felt her gut clench. Slade had warned her so many times about this rider. What should she do? Pull Thor up and bring down his stride to not meet up with them? Her mind ranged over the options. This trail went on for five miles and then curved down through the forest to nine thousand feet where it emptied out on the vet-check meadow.

  Gripping the reins hard, Jordana watched the pair flying across the rocky expanse. There was no question the black stallion was powerful and fast. But Thor was equally swift. She also knew that there was no possibility of passing on this narrow trail. There was no way for another rider to move over so she could pass. If anyone got off this trail, it would be disaster. This trail had been carved out of the scree that lay on the slope of the mountain. To get off would be to invite injury of both horse and rider.

  Her intuition told her to rein Thor in. She couldn’t expose him to possible injury. This was just a test run, not the actual race. And once they got off this high altitude trail, she didn’t know if the thousand-foot drop provided a place wide enough to pass, either. This was why she was riding; to understand the lay of the land and where she could and could not safely pass another rider.

  She saw Downing look back. She was close enough to see his surprise and then rage cross his face. He knew Thor when he saw him. Continuing to rate Thor’s pace and slow him down so that he didn’t run up on the other stallion, Jordana focused on keeping the distance between them. Damn. Of all things. She had passed three other riders, and they had easily moved aside to allow her transit. Slade had warned her that Curt wouldn’t move. More than one rider had been forced to stay behind because he bent and broke the rules where judges couldn’t see him do it.

  “Easy,” she whispered to Thor, “just take it easy, big boy,” and she watched his ears flick back and forth over her crooning voice. With her arms, legs and hands, she slowed the mustang even more. Slade wouldn’t be happy to see them arriving in the meadow one after another, Jordana thought.

  SLADE’S EYES WIDENED as he stood out in the meadow. He saw Downing burst out of the tree line, his black Arab stallion surging at a wild gallop toward the center of the meadow. It was a mile-long run. And right behind him came Thor and Jordana. The mustang wanted to run, he saw, but Jordana was fighting to keep him at a floating trot instead. Realizing what was going on, he waited for Jordana to pull up the horse.

  “Whoa,” Jordana told the stud. Thor came to a halt, shaking his head. She saw Slade’s frowning face as he walke
d up to her and took the reins.

  Dismounting, Jordana took the reins back.

  “What the hell happened?” Slade demanded. He put the stethoscope to Thor’s sweaty chest and listened. Once he got the information, he went and took the horse’s pulse. Writing down all the statistics, he timed the horse’s breaths for fifteen seconds and then multiplied it by four.

  Jordana waited until he’d finished writing down the information. “I came up to the rocky trail at ten-five and saw Downing ahead of me.”

  Scowling, Slade gestured for her to take Thor over to the waiting pail of water. “You must have been pushing faster than you should have. Downing left the trailhead at 4:45 a.m. You left fifteen minutes later.”

  Grimacing, Jordana heard the anger in Slade’s growling tone. “I was fighting him so much, Slade, that I let him move out faster.” She held up her leather-gloved hand. “My fingers, wrist and arms ache from holding him in.” She slipped the halter around the stud’s neck and removed the bridle. Bringing the blue nylon halter over his head, she led him to the water.

  “Doesn’t matter. You have to rate him properly or he won’t have any gas left for that five-mile run at the last.” Slade took the bridle from her and hung it on the saddle horn. As the horse drank in great, gulping drafts, he unsaddled the stallion. For the next ten to fifteen minutes, Thor would be walked around. When his resting heartbeat was reached, the vet would give the signal for the rider to resaddle the horse and take off.

  Chastened, Jordana brought over a second pail of water to the thirsty stud. “I never expected him to fight me like that.” She was amazed that anyone could force Thor to keep up a steady, ground-eating pace. Slade had. Her respect for him rose even more than before.

  “He’s a competitor,” Slade warned. He looked ahead to where Downing and his crew were. Anger stirred in him. He returned his gaze to Jordana. She was flushed, her eyes bright and filled with joy, despite the rugged ride on Thor. And God help him, he longed to be in her company. Gaze automatically moving to her mouth, Slade swore he could taste Jordana on his lips once more. His lower body throbbed to life, much to his chagrin.

  “What do you want me to do tactically now that Downing is here with us?” she asked. Lifting a third pail to Thor’s water-dripping nose, she watched him thrust his muzzle into it.

  Slade moved to her, his voice low. “Let’s see whose horse leaves first. Knowing Downing, because this isn’t an official vet check, my experience tells me he isn’t going to wait for his stud to get to his resting heart rate. He’ll take off a lot sooner because he knows Thor is here.”

  Eyes widening, Jordana said, “But that hurts his horse if he does that.”

  Shrugging, Slade said, “Downing doesn’t care. He thinks that stud of his can make up the difference. He won’t want you moving out ahead of him.”

  Sure enough, as Jordana continued to walk Thor in a large circle to cool down, she saw Downing resaddling his stud five minutes later. Shaking her head, she saw Slade watching the pair. Who would harm their horse like that? Endurance riders prided themselves on horses first, contest second. She lifted her hand and patted Thor’s neck. The horse was a lot less feisty right now. He was more tractable. Twenty miles was a lot for any horse. And she hoped that when she resaddled him and took off for the next twenty, that he would be less of a handful.

  The meadow was filled with horses and riders coming and going. It was always exciting for Jordana. Slade’s leg had healed up enough so that he could walk on the other side of his horse with her. She walked ahead of Thor and said, “How are you doing?”

  Heat surged through Slade. Jordana’s care extended to him even during the competition. Maybe it was the E.R. doctor in her. He didn’t know. “I’m fine,” he groused. Watching Downing galloping out of the meadow, he felt some relief. “My leg is fine, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Nodding, she smiled a little. Slade had on what she termed the “bad cowboy look” of the perpetual scowl. He hadn’t shaved this morning, and the beard made him look primal. It appealed to her as a woman. Did he know how handsome he really was? She didn’t think so. “That’s good,” Jordana said. “Let’s go over things I need to remember on this next twenty-mile stint.” Because if she didn’t, Jordana knew she’d start thinking of that hot, ravishing kiss all over again. Oh, for sure, she wasn’t going to confide in Slade her nightly amorous dreams in which they made wild love with each other. Jordana blushed just thinking about it. Still, he made her feel good. She was always happy when she was around Slade. What kind of relationship was maturing between them? Where would it lead?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON when they arrived back at Slade’s ranch. Shorty had unloaded Thor and was taking him to the bathing facility. Jordana was helping by unloading the saddle, bridle and other items to be placed in the tack room. As Slade entered the ranch house, the phone rang.

  “Slade here,” he answered. His leg was aching. Grabbing a chair in the foyer, he sat down.

  “Slade, this is Charley.”

  Brows raising, Slade’s heart made a little skip. “Hey Charley, do you have good news for me?” Two weeks ago he’d put in a bid with the U.S. Forest Service at the Tetons Headquarters to supply them several packhorses. It was an open bid system and Slade had always gotten these contracts from Charley, who was the head ranger of the Tetons district. He hoped he had, because every source of money was vital to keeping the ranch above financial disaster. This particular bid was for ten horses, and that wasn’t a small amount of money. It could mean close to eight thousand dollars for him. Unconsciously, he held his breath. Whoever the winner of the bid was, they received a phone call from Charley to seal the deal.

  “I’m afraid not, Slade. Listen, your brother Griff was over here yesterday.”

  Scowling, Slade muttered, “My brother? What the hell was he doing over there?” His mind whirled. Slade recalled filling out the contract bid one morning when Griff was sitting and having his breakfast with him. Slade had explained the system and how important it was to put in the lowest bid so that that individual would be chosen and, therefore, hired or paid for their services.

  “Yes,” Charley said gruffly. “I’m hard-pressed not to report this, Slade.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You didn’t send him over here to talk with me?”

  Frustration came out in his tone. “Charley, I don’t have a clue as to what you’re referring to. I never told Griff to go over to your office.”

  “Griff came over, out of the blue, and demanded an appointment to see me. Lucky or unlucky, I happened to be here and told him to come on in.”

  Slade heard the tense tone in Charley’s voice. He’d been supervisor of the Tetons for five years. “What did he come to see you about?”

  “Your bid,” Charley warned heavily.

  “My bid?” Slade sat up, his brows moving upward in complete surprise. “How can that be? I didn’t send him over to talk to you.”

  “Well, he alluded that you did, Slade, and that’s why I’m calling you direct. Your brother sat here and told me that if I would choose your bid over all the others, that you would throw in another horse for free.”

  Rage exploded through Slade. Instantly, he was on his feet. Pain shot through his injured thigh as he did so. “What?” He nearly shouted the word. His hand tightened around the phone, his other hand curled into a fist. Slade knew that no one could do something like this. His heart sank. His brother had just scuttled his chances of getting that badly needed contract!

  “It was a bribe, Slade. Your brother seemed to think that by throwing in an extra packhorse for free that it was obvious that I should choose your bid over the others.”

  “I never sent him to do that, Charley.” Breathing hard, rage filling him, Slade tried to fight down his anger enough to think clearly. His entire connection with Charley and the U.S. Forest Service was now in jeopardy. Griff had stupidly blundered in, and now Slade knew
that Charley could report him. And then, because this was clearly a violation, Charley could bar him from ever bidding again on a U.S. Forest Service contract. Son of a bitch!

  “That’s why I’m calling you, Slade. We’ve worked together for five years, and you’ve never tried to influence a bid before.”

  “I’m sorry, Charley. My brother is from New York City and a Wall Street type. He’s stupid for trying to do this behind my back. He’s got the morals and values of a sidewinder. That stuff might sell in the East, but it don’t out here.”

  “That’s what I thought. Your brother appeared to be completely clueless about the bid system. I had a good talk with him, and it became clear he was ignorant.”

  Closing his eyes, Slade felt sweat pop out on his brow. “What are you going to do about it?” he asked in a rasping tone. Slade knew he could be turned in and blacklisted from future bids—forever. The Tetons put out three to four bids a year, and Slade would lose a valuable source of income. Money was hard to come by in ranching, and Slade counted heavily on winning at least one or two bid contracts a year from Charley.

  “I could turn Griff in for bribery.”

  “Yes,” he said tightly, “you could.”

  “But if I did that, the only person it would hurt would be you, Slade. I know from experience that you are trying to keep your ranch out of foreclosure. You’ve never attempted to influence a bid with me—ever.”

  Rolling his eyes, Slade knew that if Charley turned in Griff, there would be an arrest and charges against him. His stupid brother didn’t realize the damage he’d just done. “No, I would never do that, Charley.”

  “Right,” he said. “I know that from dealing with you for five years now, you’re a man of your word.”

  “What is going to happen? Are you calling the sheriff to pick Griff up and charge him with bribery?”

  “No, I don’t want to do that, Slade. I think if you talk to him and make him understand what he did, that will be sufficient.” Charley hesitated, his voice lowering, “But I can’t allow your bid to be chosen, Slade. You had won the bid, and I was getting ready to call you. Your brother screwed you royal. Now, I have to pick the next lowest bidder, and he will be awarded the money instead. I can’t, in all good conscience, let your bid win. Griff came in here and destroyed that chance. I’m sorry. I know you were counting on this money.”

 

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