The Wrangler

by Pamela Britton

  “You amaze me,” he said at last.

  “And you amaze me,” she said. “You bought a horse, sight unseen, from some crazy woman who showed up on your doorstep…all because you felt sorry for her. Excuse me, but I’m not the amazing one here.”

  He captured her hand. “Shh,” he said, and then he was kissing her and Sam was grateful—oh, so grateful—that he’d gotten over his fears, or his anxiety, or whatever it was that had upset him about her going blind. When Clint kissed her, she forgot all about her troubles, all there was in the world was Clint.

  “Eeooooow.”

  The sound echoed across the lake, and Clint and Sam pulled apart. A lazy stream of smoke marked the location of the base camp. They’d been so busy staring at the horses they hadn’t noticed the break in the trees, the one that allowed base camp a perfect view of them.

  “Dean,” Clint identified. They could just make the kid out at the edge of the lake. And if they could see him, he could see them. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace nearby,” Clint said.

  “Is it a cabin?”

  He laughed, shook his head. “I wish. But it’s a place I used to go to as a kid. My mother used to call it a fairy ring. It’s a clearing in the trees.”

  A few seconds later she found herself asking, “Do you miss her?”

  It took Clint a second to follow the direction of her thoughts. All he could think about was getting Sam someplace where they could be alone, where he could kiss her again, make her cry out and…

  “Yes,” he said. “I miss her every day of my life.”

  He saw her nod. “I miss my mom, too. And my dad, of course, but especially my mom. I wish she could have been with us today.”

  “She is,” Clint said, smiling at her. “She is.”

  Her tender smile made Clint ache with need. She was so beautiful, her skin such a flawless, ivory color that he doubted it’d ever been marred by a blemish for Sam’s entire life.

  “There,” he said, recognizing a spot not far ahead. It was the only place in the forest where ferns grew, something Clint had often wondered about in the past. Why here? And why were they so thick? He didn’t know, but what was more remarkable was the way the ground flattened out, the way they could step through the thick foliage and then emerge in the middle of a small clearing, one with soft sprigs of grass.

  “Amazing,” he heard Sam mutter.

  No. What was remarkable was the wonder in her face.

  “Come here,” he said.

  She needed no second urging.

  They met as they had on that first night, quickly, greedily, his mouth covering her own with such force that she opened for him immediately.

  Yes.

  This was what he wanted. To taste her, to let his tongue glide across hers.

  He pulled back, looked into her face and tried to tell her what he was feeling with his eyes.

  “I know,” she said, reading his mind. “I feel the same way.”

  His fingers worked the buttons of her denim shirt. She did the same, the both of them knowing this was the moment. Out in the open, with the Baer Mountain Mustangs grazing not far away, and Mother Nature providing the bed.

  That seemed right.

  Not even Julia had been here, Clint thought. Oh, he’d invited her on a roundup, but she’d declined. She’d never even wanted to see the horses.

  “I feel like a teenager,” Sam said, peeling his shirt off his shoulders.

  Thank God he’d never married Julia. “Me, too,” he said, doing the same to Sam. “I feel like we’re about to do it in the back of a car.”

  “Yeah, but this is so much better,” she said, her hands on the waistband of his jeans.

  “I don’t have a condom,” he admitted.

  “If you carried one I’d be worried.” She smiled up at him impishly. “And offended.”

  The snap of his jeans popped free. It amazed him how just that one sound had him growing hard. He’d been aroused since he’d kissed her, but the knowledge that he was about to be held by her, stroked by her—man—it turned his insides out.

  “Sam,” he said.

  She reached a hand inside.

  Clint gasped. Her fingers were warm and she knew exactly how to touch him. One long stroke was all it took to get him to sigh, and when those same fingers slipped beneath the elastic of his boxers, he gasped.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered.

  “Yes,” she said, “but what a way to die.”

  He couldn’t dispute that, didn’t have any breath left in him to do anything more than moan when her fingers wrapped around his bare flesh.

  “I’m going to do to you exactly what you did to me,” she said, sliding down his body.

  No, he wanted to say. Let me take the rest of your clothes off, lay you down on a bed of grass, part your legs.

  Her mouth found him.

  He cried out. She stroked him. He meant to stop her. He truly did, but when he opened his eyes and saw her kneeling there, he realized he was a lost man. He moaned again even though it was greedy of him to let her continue. But he couldn’t seem to stop watching her.

  “Sam.” He was about to lose it.

  Clint saw spots dance before his eyes. Only by sheer force of will did he pull back. But she must have seen how close he was because she took him again—

  “Sam.” He pulled back. “Not yet.” He wanted to prolong their time together. He wanted to remember each and every little detail.

  He quickly got rid of his boots and jeans, standing in front of her naked. He knelt before she could get any ideas, his hands finishing the last of her buttons before starting on her jeans. Thankfully they had a zipper fly.

  “I want to taste you again,” she said, her green eyes never leaving his.

  “And I want to taste you,” he said, leaning her back.

  “Clint, no—” But she lifted her hips. Clint used it as an opportunity to jerk her jeans away. He forgot about her boots, made quick work of tugging them off. In seconds she was naked, too, and he was hovering between her legs.

  “Yes,” she sighed, lifting her hips again.

  “Glutton,” he teased, but he needed no second urging. She cried out when he made contact, her whole body jerking. His tongue elicited the same sounds out of her as she’d teased out of him.

  “Yes,” she cried. “Oh, Clint. Just like that. Don’t. Stop….”

  Only she was quicker to climax for him this time than before and he wondered if she’d been fantasizing about him on the long ride over.

  “My turn,” he said, moving up her body.

  Clint paused to memorize her expression of satisfaction. And then he had to force himself not to shut his eyes as he glided into her silky middle.

  “Sam,” he moaned, taking things slow at first, though what he wanted to do was plunge inside her, hard, and then plunge again.

  She took matters into her own hands, thrust herself up to greet him, telling him without words that she wanted it as hard as he could give it to her, and as fast.

  He drove himself home, stared into her eyes.

  Their two gazes locked as he rode her harder.

  “Clint,” she cried just before she arched her head back and cried out. He felt her body pulse around him, knew she’d climaxed again. He thrust inside her one more time and then it was his turn to fly.

  “Clint,” she moaned, matching his every thrust. “Oh, Clint.”

  Her spasms subsided, but his own pleasure rolled on. “I’m going to take care of you,” he murmured, holding her tight. She trembled in his arms. “You don’t ever have to worry, Sam.” He clutched her to him and then rolled her on top of him. “I promise, Sam. I’ll be there for you. Through thick and thin. Always. You don’t ever have to worry,” he said again and again.

  He meant every word. Sam knew that. She just wished he didn’t make it sound like she needed taking care of. She didn’t.

  She’d be fin
e.

  Chapter Twenty

  Clint insisted Gigi would know something was up if they didn’t return to camp right away. But as they made their way back, Sam couldn’t keep a smile off her face. The sun was behind the mountains now, the valley in shadow. It was stunning, the mercury color of the sky reflected in the smooth surface of the lake. Clint held her hand, and she couldn’t ever remember being happier.

  I wish you could have met him, Mom and Dad.

  “There you two are!” Gigi gushed as she and Clint walked into camp hand in hand. “I was starting to worry about you.”

  “No need. I was keeping a sharp eye on her,” he said, smiling down at her. Sam squeezed his hand.

  “I’ll bet,” Gigi said. “But dinner’s ready. Better eat before it gets dark so you can see your food.”

  “Nah,” Clint said. “That’s what campfires are for.”

  “Go,” Gigi said, and Sam had the feeling if she’d had a dish towel she’d have whipped Clint on the rear with it.

  For the rest of the night, he kept her company. The sky darkened. Someone stoked the fire. Clint pulled her to his side and they talked. For hours. They shared tales from their childhood, horse stories, work stories, and as they talked, Sam realized she could fall in love with this man. Heck, she was probably more than halfway there already.

  Gigi left them alone, as did the wranglers. But before Clint’s grandmother went to bed, she wished them good-night, the firelight reflected in her teeth as she grinned.

  “She knows,” Sam said.

  “Of course she does. Gigi doesn’t miss a thing.”

  “Do you think she minds?” Sam asked, looking up at him.

  He shook his head. “Are you kidding? This is all part of her master plan. I wouldn’t have put it past her to have orchestrated this whole thing.”

  He kissed her in front of everybody, and Sam kissed him back. It amazed her how instantly her body flared to life. It was as if he knew instinctively how to touch her. Or maybe it had to do with body chemistry. Whatever the case, when Clint touched her, she melted in his arms like caramel on a hot summer day. Later, much later, he grabbed two bedrolls, and, feeling like a teenager, Sam let Clint take her hand. He led her into the woods where they made love a second time.

  Sam woke up the next morning in Clint’s arms.

  “Good morning,” he said, smiling down at her.

  Sam stretched. Surprisingly, she wasn’t all that sore. Must have been the aspirin she’d taken. “What time is it?” she asked because the sky was still dark. Not inky-black, but the blue-gray of a sky about to be invaded by the sun.

  “It’s time to get up,” he said, kissing her lightly.

  “I think someone already is up,” she murmured against his mouth.

  “Yeah, but that’ll have to wait.”

  She knew he was right. Today would be a busy day.

  Today she would herd wild mustangs.

  Her heart began to beat harder at the thought of it. When Clint wasn’t looking she closed one eye and then the other and tried to gauge if her field of vision had shrunk any more.

  It hadn’t.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps it’d been a one-time change. Perhaps she had nothing to worry about. A few more weeks, maybe a month or so, that’s all she asked. She wanted to get to know Clint while she still had her sight. Of course, they hadn’t talked about where their relationship was going, but they would. After last night it was obvious there was something between them, something wonderful and miraculous that couldn’t be denied.

  “Let’s go,” Clint said after they both dressed.

  The camp was just starting to stir when they arrived. Cappie and Gigi were already up, and Clint’s grandmother raised an eyebrow when she spotted them sneaking back. Sam smiled sheepishly and went to go feed the horses.

  Less than an hour later they were off. Sam couldn’t keep the smile off her face as they headed out. Coaster seemed to sense her excitement. He tossed his head. She clutched the reins, stroked his mane. “Easy, boy.”

  “What’s the matter?” Clint asked. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine,” she said, glancing down at him. “He’s just excited. As am I.”

  “But he’s never been on a roundup before. We have no clue how he’ll react to a group of horses galloping next to him.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Sam said again. “Relax, Clint. I’ve had Coaster since he was a foal. We know each other like the back of our hands…or hooves, as the case may be. Coaster’s about as laid-back as a horse can be. I doubt he’ll do more than toss his head today.”

  Clint didn’t look convinced. Sam just shook her head. He’d understand sooner or later.

  They rode a different path than the one they had taken yesterday. They didn’t ride alongside the lake or back up the hill. Instead they headed away from the mustangs, following a tiny creek sandwiched between two mountains. They would give the wild horses a wide berth, she’d been told, through the trees to camouflage the wranglers’ approach and get behind the horses. They wouldn’t wave their hats or yell yee-haw. This wasn’t the movies. Instead they would slowly encroach upon the mustangs’ space, urging them forward. Once they were moving in the direction they wanted, they would push the animals toward the corrals where Dean and one of the other wranglers waited to help guide them in.

  “Gosh, this is so beautiful,” she said. Trees formed a shelter over their heads, their leaves bright green in the rising sun. The creek gurgled peacefully. That, combined with the sound of the horses’ hooves, formed a rhythmic lull that made Sam think life couldn’t get any better.

  Thank God I survived that accident. I was meant to see this.

  She believed the words with every fiber of her being, but there was something deeper going on. She sensed her mom here. It was almost as if she rode along with them.

  They followed a path that looked to have been widened by horses’ hooves over the years. She could see evidence of their passing in the mud alongside the water.

  “Careful of that tree,” Clint said.

  “I see it.” Sam glanced down at him again. “You don’t have to babysit me. Coaster and I will be fine.”

  “Just the same, I’d feel better if you stuck by my side.”

  That hadn’t been the case yesterday. She almost reminded him of that fact. They were making quick progress. She would bet they’d be upon the herd of mustangs within minutes.

  Sure enough, Clint said, “We’re going to turn off the path here in a second. I want you to hang back just in case Coaster gives you trouble.”

  Hang back? But Clint was the boss and she knew he had her best interest at heart.

  Her palms were sweaty. She could feel the perspiration between her fingers. And her heart beat so hard she could feel it throb in her neck. This was it…she was about to round up mustangs!

  “Okay, guys!” Clint called. “Let’s do this nice and slow.”

  That must be why it was anticlimactic. They began walking down a slight slope, Sam at the back of the pack, much to her disappointment. In a matter of minutes they were out of the trees, and the horses in the valley were swiveling to face them. Atlas broke free, the big stallion trotting a few steps toward them before he skidded to a stop and tossed his head.

  Sam smiled.

  It was almost as if the horse was signaling for them to stop. Clint and the boys just kept coming. Atlas ran a ways toward them. Sam watched as Clint—who was in the lead—took off his hat and waved it. Atlas turned. Immediately, he began to gather his heard, the mares and foals clumping together near the middle as Atlas continued to keep a wary eye on them. When they were two hundred yards away, he apparently had had enough. He nipped at the rear end of the mare closest to him. She darted away, headed toward the right side of the lake. He bit another mare. Soon, the entire herd was on the move. The lead mare—a flashy-looking palomino—broke into a trot.

  The butterflies in Sam’s stomach began to flutter in earnest.

 
She’d been warned the mustangs might run. Clint had been hoping they wouldn’t, but soon the head mare loped off. And then a second mare did the same. And then the next instant they were galloping. They hugged the shoreline, Atlas bringing up the rear, Sam watching as Clint rode after them at a trot. But when the band of mustangs picked up more speed, he spurred his own horse into a run.

  “Stay back,” he called to her.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah…The black gelding was being well behaved. All he did was prick his ears at the horses running. He didn’t prance. Didn’t lift his tail and try to run away with her. He just meekly broke into a trot and followed at a distance. “Well, this is bunk,” she told him. “Clint gets to have all the fun.”

  As if her words prompted the mustangs into action, they kicked into high gear. Sam nearly laughed. Just what Clint didn’t want. It would make slowing them down at the end of the valley difficult. Not only that, but when the mustangs found their usual path blocked, they’d try to turn back, which meant they would all have to work hard to keep them down at the right end of the valley.

  “Come on, boy,” Sam said. “Let’s be ready.”

  Coaster seemed pleased to pick up the pace. His head was up, his short, show-length mane dancing in the wind as he cantered behind Clint and the other cowboys. They’d had to pick up the pace. It was either that or the herd would get too far away to control. She saw Clint lean forward a smidge, a sure sign that he was about to go even faster.

  Sam could do nothing but smile. How did she get here? How did she end up in the Baer Mountains chasing after their fabled mustangs? She cocked her head, catching a glimpse of herself in the surface of the lake. Coaster’s tail streamed out behind him, his legs a blur on the water’s smooth surface.

  “Come on, Coaster,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  They ran. Flat out, balls to the wall, ran. The wind forced tears out of her eyes.

  The mustangs were nearing camp. Sam could make out Dean up ahead, the wrangler waving a coiled rope in an attempt to keep the horses headed toward the corral. Opposite him, another wrangler did the same. But the palomino mare leading the pack must have sensed their impending capture because she turned, saw Dean, turned again…and headed right back for them.