The Wrangler

by Pamela Britton

  Uh-oh.

  But Clint and his cowboys anticipated the move. They fanned out so that when the rest of the herd dove right, they had them all blocked off. Well, almost all of them. The palomino pinned her ears, spotted an opening between Clint and another wrangler, and made a dive for it. Sam heard Clint curse.

  She pulled up.

  She might be able to block the mare’s path if she timed things right. She’d have to back up a little, let the mare think she could slip between Coaster and the lake, then shut her off at the last second, driving her toward the water’s edge. She’d stop for sure. Maybe even roll back.

  She tensed as the mare approached. Clint would surely kill her for doing this, but she was positive she could help….

  “Whoa!” she yelled in the mare’s direction before recognizing how stupid that was. This horse didn’t know the meaning of whoa. She would have to stop her the hard way.

  “Get ready, Coaster,” she told her horse because the mare was advancing fast. A glance toward base camp told her the rest of the horses had been contained. They were being pushed into the corral.

  The sound of hooves grew louder and louder. Sam tensed. Coaster lifted his head. She took one hand off the reins and rested it against his neck. This would be a test of Coaster’s abilities. Some horses didn’t like it when another animal ran at them full tilt. However, Sam had spent countless hours at horse shows where horses were known to spin, slide stop or speed by at ninety miles per hour. In a nutshell, Coaster had seen it all. And so her wonderful show horse merely stood his ground, Sam clucking him forward when the palomino was about fifty feet away. The mare pinned her ears. Sam kicked Coaster into a trot.

  “Sam!” someone yelled. She could tell it was Clint, but Sam was too busy to look.

  “Whoa,” she called again, but this time for Coaster’s benefit. The mare skidded to a stop. For a split second, Sam thought the horse might dart around Coaster’s back end. Instead she spun on her hind feet and turned back toward camp.

  Perfect.

  Sam couldn’t contain her smile. She caught Clint’s eye. He’d been riding toward her, but when he saw the mare headed his direction, he turned, too, giving the mare plenty of space to get back to her herd. It looked like most of the horses were in the corral, only a few stragglers hanging behind. Sam rode forward, intent on lending a hand.

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Clint couldn’t remember the last time he was so furious.

  “What do you mean what was I thinking?” she asked, her mouth dropping open. “I was stopping that horse.” She pulled Coaster to a halt.

  “You could have been killed,” he said, pulling up his own horse next to her.

  “Clint, relax. I’m fine.”

  “Because you were lucky,” he said. Geez, his heart was still in his throat. “I told you to stay back.”

  “I did stay back. That’s how I was able to help you.”

  “Well next time don’t help,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you have no idea what you’re doing. And with your eyes the way they are…”

  Her face fell. “So that’s what this is about?” she asked. “My eyes.”

  “Hell, yeah, it’s about your eyes. You told me yourself you’ve lost peripheral vision. What if that horse had come at you wrong? What if she’d ducked into a blind spot? What then?”

  “Coaster would have taken care of me,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “Coaster isn’t even your horse.”

  “True,” she said slowly.

  But he was already regretting the words. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He needed to shave. And out of nowhere the memory of him nuzzling the crook of her neck with his razor stubble came to him.

  Shit.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just lost my mind there for a second when I saw you dart in front of that horse. That’s a move even my wranglers think twice about.”

  Her posture relaxed. “No, I understand. But I knew what I was doing. Heck, horses get loose at horse shows more often than you might think. It’s not the first time I’ve had to head one off.”

  “Yeah, well, those horses have been taught to fear and respect humans. Not these mustangs.”

  She nodded. “I see your point.” But she still looked upset.

  His comment about Coaster must have stung more than he’d intended. “You know Coaster is yours, don’t you?”

  “No, Clint. He’s not. He’s yours. And Gigi’s. You bought him. When my eyes give out, I’ll have no way to repay you. Besides, when I get back home, what will I do with him?”

  Clint glanced toward the corral. Dean had matters well in hand. The gates were already closed. Soon they’d start sifting through the herd. He needed to get back.

  “You can keep him at our ranch,” he said. “He can be your horse in all but name only, if that’s what you want.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not what I want. It’s why I wanted to sell him in the first place.” She reached down and stroked her horse’s mane. “He should be shown. That’s what he’s good at. That’s what he’s trained to do.”

  Dean was looking in their direction. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said. “After we’re done today.”

  “Sure.”

  “But do me a favor, would you?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Hang back today. Don’t go throwing yourself into the fray. Gigi loves that you’re so quick to help, but today that could get you killed.” He shifted in the saddle, gave his horse the cue to sidestep. “And I don’t want anything happening to you,” he said, catching her hand and tugging her toward him. That damn horse of hers was a giant and so she had to lean down. He kissed her, lightly, with just enough passion to remind her of all that they’d shared the night before. Then he released her and spurred his horse forward.

  She hung back this time.

  SAM COULDN’T STOP THINKING about their conversation. Sure there was the excitement of working with the horses—when she was allowed, which wasn’t much—but frankly, she was given too much time to think. The most Clint let her do was help with the weanlings once they were sorted out, but, since there were less than ten babies, that was quick work. She asked if she could give the adult horses their inoculations. That was something she gave to Coaster on an annual basis. But even though the horses were well contained in narrow, wooden chutes that were taller than all the horses, he still wouldn’t allow her near. He was worried she’d get bitten. Or kicked. Or squished somehow—his words. It drove her nuts.

  “Don’t look so discouraged,” Gigi said when they broke for lunch. Sam stood in the shade of the chuckwagon and stared into the corral at the wild horses milling about.

  “He won’t let me do anything.”

  Gigi smiled. “It’s the way he was raised. My daughter, she married a McAlister, a ranching family just as steeped in tradition as the Baers. Clint gets that sexist cowboy attitude from both sides.”

  “It’s driving me nuts.”

  “Better get used to it,” Gigi said, patting her hand. “And cheer up. You could always help us serve food.”

  Sam shot Gigi a look, one meant to tell her—no offense—but that wasn’t her cup of tea. She wanted to help with the horses. Now.

  Of course, what she did instead was help Gigi out.

  “Hang in there, kiddo,” she said. “Clint might be a bit of a Neanderthal at times, but he doesn’t mean anything by it. Just give him time.”

  The afternoon wore on, and as day slipped toward night, Sam knew they would have to talk. If she heard one more “Sam, stand back,” she’d scream.

  “Good work today,” Clint said, coming up to her, his hair still wet from the quick dip he’d taken in the lake. “You handled those babies like a pro,” he said, the denim shirt he wore left open so he could air-dry.

  I am a pro, she wanted to say, but he was bending down, placing a
quick kiss on her lips.

  “Thanks,” she said instead.

  “When’s dinner going to be ready?”

  And, see, that annoyed her all over again.

  “I have no clue,” she said. “You’ll have to ask Gigi.”

  A few of the other ranch hands trailed in his wake toward the chuckwagon. As it turned out, dinner was served just about immediately, Clint waving her over. Sam almost didn’t eat. She honestly didn’t know how she’d cope with his me-man, you-woman attitude.

  “You look perturbed,” he said, sitting next to her on one of the logs encircling the camp. Sam had figured out they had been set in a circle to keep the wild horses out when they were being rounded up. “And you barely ate a thing.”

  As opposed to him. She’d watched him clean his plate of grilled trout and fresh vegetables. And then he’d gone back for more.

  “I’m just not hungry,” she said.

  “Then we must need to work you harder.”

  It was still daylight out. The mustangs in the corral pawed and snorted, anxious to be free. After dinner, they’d release them back into the wild. Tomorrow they’d push them to a different pasture and then pick up the next band.

  “Judging by how today went,” she said, “I doubt I stand a chance of getting within two feet of those horses.”

  He held her gaze for a second before setting his plate down. “All right,” he said, “let’s have it out. What’s on your mind?”

  She stared at him head-on. “I just…” She tried to put into words how she felt. “I guess I just don’t know how this is all going to work out.”

  He straightened. “What do you mean?”

  “This,” she said, motioning to the valley around them. “My eyes.” And then, in a lower tone of voice because she was almost afraid to say the word aloud. “Us.”

  He took her hand. Sam was grateful for that.

  “I told you last night,” he said. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  “Not if ‘taking care of me’ means keeping me under lock and key.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “Yes, you do,” she said. “Clint, you need to learn to relax. To let me help. I’m a good hand with horses. I might not be a professional trainer, but I’ve been riding for more than a few years. Please don’t treat me like a child.”

  And hanging in the air between them were the words: I might not get another chance at this.

  “I worry you’ll get hurt,” he admitted.

  “I know,” she said. “But that’s my choice.”

  He nodded.

  She took a deep breath and asked the question she’d been too scared to voice out loud. “What’s going to happen when we’re done here, Clint? Where will I go?”

  “You can stay here.”

  It was what she’d wanted to hear, and yet…not. “I can’t,” she said. “I need to go back to Wilmington, to the Center for the Blind. I should prepare for what’s going to happen. Now, while I can still see.”

  “You can do that here.”

  She shook her head. “No, I can’t. I mean, I suppose I could,” she quickly added. “But what about learning a new vocation? What about finding a job? I can’t stay here with you and do nothing.”

  She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. But she wasn’t going to do that. She refused to be a burden.

  That’s what’d been bugging her, she admitted. It wasn’t Clint’s overbearing attitude, although that played a part. Rather it was that she knew that somehow, someway, she needed to face the coming challenges on her own. Hiding out on the Baer family ranch wasn’t an option, not if she wanted to keep some of her hard-won independence.

  “I think I should go back to Delaware,” she said.

  His jaw dropped.

  “Think about it, Clint,” she said. “We’ve just met. I show up on your doorstep and suddenly you’re buying my horse and offering me a place to live and telling me you’ll take care of me. I appreciate that, I really do, but that’s no way to start a relationship.”

  He looked out over the lake, and Sam thought he was easily the best-looking man she’d ever met. And here she was telling him she wanted to go away.

  “I’m not saying I’ll leave tomorrow,” she said, clasping his hand. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m just saying, maybe we should slow down a little, take some time for us both to contemplate what’s ahead.”

  He released a sigh, or maybe it was more like a snort of disgust. “You are the most difficult, hardheaded, stubborn son of a gun I’ve ever met.”

  Funny, but that made her smile.

  “I’m not going to pretend I like the thought of you leaving,” he said. “Honestly, Sam, I’ve never felt this way toward a woman. Yeah, the thought of you going blind scares the hell out of me, but I’m willing to risk we can make it work out.”

  “I feel the same way,” she said. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” she said. “That seems impossible, but it’s true, and that scares the hell out of me.”

  He placed a hand against the side of her face. “You don’t ever have to be scared,” he said. “Not ever, and not for any reason.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  He held her that night.

  Sam didn’t know why she felt so anxious. Especially after they’d made love. When morning dawned, she was up before Clint. Ironically, she found herself at the chuckwagon, helping Gigi set up for breakfast. There were plates and forks and cups that needed to be put on the tailgate, their impromptu table. And coffee to be made and eggs to be scrambled.

  “Mornin’,” Clint said, coming up behind her and pulling her into his arms. She felt his chin on top of her head. “You ready to go chase some mustangs today?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said good-naturedly, trying to elbow him away. “If you’ll actually let me chase some.”

  “Well, now, I can be bribed.”

  She whirled around. “You can?”

  He nodded, his cowboy hat dipping low enough that for a second she couldn’t see his eyes. “All you’d have to do is give me a kiss.” He tapped his lips. “Right here.”

  “You mean it?”

  “I mean it,” he said. “And if you make it two kisses, I might just let you ride in the front with me.”

  She threw herself into his arms. He laughed, and then she gave him not one, but five kisses. She might have given him more, too, but Dean started up his chant.

  That was the beginning of one of the best days of Sam’s life. Clint was as good as his word, letting her get right into the thick of things. She helped to push horses to higher ground, Coaster behaving like a perfect gentleman. After that, they set off after the next band. That took most of the morning. They broke for lunch. Afterward, they pushed the second herd toward the corrals. There were no wild mustang antics today, however, and the band of horses seemed to saunter down the hill and into the corral.

  “That was easy,” Sam said as they closed the gate.

  “Not too bad,” Clint agreed.

  They started vetting the animals, Sam able to give shots this time. When Clint started to castrate the young colts, Sam realized she’d completely forgotten about his degree in veterinary medicine. There were a lot of horses to get through, though, and it quickly became obvious they’d have to finish up in the morning. But that was the plan. After so many years of caring for the bands of wild horses, Clint knew exactly how long it’d take to get the job done.

  Another day passed. When Sam woke up in Clint’s arms that third morning, she knew there was no place else she’d ever want to be.

  They finished up with their second herd, moved them up to higher ground, too, then set off to find the final wild horses. This was the hardest part of the entire trip, Clint told her. The terrain they’d be crossing was steep and thick with trees. Sometimes it took them a while to find the animals; on one occasion they’d even had to give up, then come back and look for them another time.

  Everyone was keeping a sharp eye out, peering
between trees and studying the ground in hopes of finding evidence they were nearby. But they heard them before they saw them. In the distance, a horse neighed. A second one answered.

  “This is our lucky day,” Clint said to her with a smile.

  “You want me to cut around?” Dean asked, riding up to them. It was his sorrel who’d neighed. “They must be in that bald spot up ahead.”

  “Yeah, they probably are. Why don’t you and Elliot circle to the left. Sam and I will go right. You two stay here,” he said to the remaining cowboys. “We’ll drive them your way.”

  Everyone nodded and off they went, but because Sam’s vision was impaired, she had to be careful riding through the low-hanging branches. She didn’t tell Clint that, of course. The last thing she needed was for him to revert back to a caveman.

  Honestly, it was ironic, really, because she was the one with the impaired vision and yet she was the one who spotted the man in the trees.

  “Holy crap,” she said, pointing. “There’s a man up there.”

  Clint glanced over at her, puzzled. He followed her gaze. “Where?” he asked.

  “There,” she said. “He’s wearing camouflage, but it’s the wrong color. Brown. Look.” She pointed.

  The man—whoever he was—appeared to be focused on something directly in front of him.

  “Holy—” Clint didn’t finish his sentence. “It’s that damn Lorenzo.”

  Lorenzo?

  But she knew in an instant he was right, and that the cowhand had climbed a tree to use a camera he must’ve got to replace the one Clint had taken from him.

  “Why that dirty little—” This time she didn’t finish what she was going to say. She spurred Coaster after Clint who’d kicked his horse into a run.

  Lorenzo must have heard them, because she saw him turn. She knew why his camouflage hadn’t worked. The tree he was “hiding” in was full of lush foliage. His silly outfit stuck out like a bruise on an avocado.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Clint cried.