The Cowboy and the Lady

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Wait, I didn’t mean that I wanted to learn immediately.”

  “That’s good, because you don’t learn how to ride immediately. You learn how to ride slowly, in stages,” he outlined as they arrived at the stables. “Today,” he told her as they walked inside, “we’re just going to get you to mount a horse.”

  “Right after dinner?” she asked nervously.

  “Riding a horse is not like swimming,” Jackson informed her with a laugh. “And anyway, you’re not going to be riding tonight. I just want to get you comfortable sitting on a horse.”

  Suddenly, the animals that were in the stalls looked prohibitively large to her. Larger than they had an hour ago. She didn’t know about this.

  “If you really want me to be comfortable,” she told him, “maybe we should start out with a rocking horse.”

  Jackson thought he heard a quaver in her voice. “Debi, are you afraid of horses?” he asked her.

  “No,” she protested instantly, then, flushing, she reversed her statement. “Yes.” But that wasn’t the answer she wanted to settle on because what she was feeling was complicated. “I mean— Well, maybe. I guess I’m not quite sure yet.”

  This wasn’t some kind of deep-seated fear caused by a traumatic incident in her childhood. He saw none of that in her eyes and was convinced that had there been something like that in her past, he would have been able to pick up on at least some of the signs. There were none.

  Which meant he was free to proceed in making her come around.

  “Come here,” he requested. When she did, albeit somewhat hesitantly, he took her by the hand and drew her closer to the horse in the stall. “This is Annabelle,” he told her. “She’s the gentlest horse on the ranch. Why don’t you try petting her?” he suggested.

  “You’re sure it’s all right?” she asked. “I mean, it won’t bother her?”

  “None of the animals feel threatened if they’re petted,” Jackson promised her seriously. “Most animals don’t,” he added, looking at her significantly.

  When she still hesitated, Jackson took her hand, cupped his own over it and then brought it up to the mare’s muzzle. He then went on to slowly pass her hand over Annabelle.

  “Do it just like this,” he urged as he guided her through the motions. He could almost see her heart pounding in her throat. “See how easy it is?” he asked quietly, soothingly.

  She had to admit that the muzzle felt almost silky beneath her fingers. The longer she stroked the mare, the more she found that she enjoyed the contact.

  “I’m just a little worried that she might be too tired,” she told Jackson.

  “Just for the record,” he told her, tongue in cheek, “I’ve never met an animal who was too tired to be petted. As a matter of fact, they perk up when you do that. Keep it up,” he urged.

  Taking his hand away from hers, he reached into his back pocket. Finding what he was looking for, he extended his hand out and opened it. There were a couple of lumps of sugar in his palm.

  “Here, give her these.”

  Taking the lumps of sugar from him, Debi looked down at them, and then raised her eyes to his. “Are we bribing her?”

  “Yes, we are. Bribing her to like you,” Jackson explained, then added in a slightly lower voice, “Not that that’s actually necessary. I doubt if anyone, man or beast, ever had to be bribed to like you,” he said, momentarily thinking back to her enthusiastic kiss that first evening she had joined his household. It felt as if it had only happened a moment ago—and yet, at the same time it seemed so far in the past. Having her brush her lips against his cheek earlier had just stirred up his reaction to her.

  Jackson shook himself free of the memory, but not nearly as quickly as he would have liked to or felt that he should have.

  It also didn’t help that while the memory had flashed through his mind, he had savored it.

  “When do I get to ride her?” Debi asked.

  “Maybe in a few days.” Jackson didn’t want to rush things. Given her extreme inexperience, there was a risk of Debi possibly falling off and getting hurt. He didn’t want to take that chance.

  “A few days?” she echoed in surprise—and disappointment. “I have to wait that long?”

  “It’s not that long,” he assured her. But she didn’t look convinced. “Like I said, we take this all very slowly, a little bit at a time. You master one step, we go on to another,” he promised.

  She rested her hand on the mare’s muzzle. “And what am I mastering now?”

  Jackson grinned, his blue eyes crinkling. “That’s easy,” he told her. “Petting.”

  Green eyes met blue. “I think that I’ve got that part down pat at this point,” she told him quietly.

  “Great.” Jackson nodded his head, more to himself than to her. “Tomorrow you get to lead your horse around the perimeter of the corral.”

  “Is that when I get to ride her?” she asked, hoping for the green light.

  Obviously she had missed the word lead, he thought. “No, you get to walk right alongside of her while she’s walking, hence the word lead.”

  She didn’t quite understand why she’d be walking around the perimeter of the corral, holding on to the horse.

  “Are we going to be looking for something?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Patience. To be a good rider, you have to have patience. Patience to build up a relationship with the horse.”

  “I don’t want to marry the horse, I just want to ride her,” she protested.

  He watched her for a long moment. She was almost pouting. Jackson had to admit that it got under his skin, but not in an irritating sort of way. That was happening far too often It was just unsettling enough to cause what amounted to upheavals in places that were better left unaffected and alone. He could afford to have feelings for Debi.

  Too late for that, Jackson thought.

  What he needed was a battle plan. One where he could come out the victor.

  The next second, he realized that was not going to be as easy as it might sound.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jackson thought over his options. He wanted to keep Debi safe, but he didn’t want to do it by shutting down her spirit. He came up with a compromise.

  He thought it was a good compromise, but then, he was the one who had come up with it.

  “Okay, tell you what. There is a way that I can let you get up on that horse tonight.”

  She looked at him for a long moment and realized that she trusted him. Maybe that was naive of her, especially after what had happened with the last man she had trusted—John had made her doubt herself and everything she had ever believed in.

  But there was something honest—for lack of a better word—about Jackson, something that told her he had her best interests at heart because he had everyone’s best interests at heart.

  “Okay, I’m listening,” she said, gamely waiting for him to tell her the terms he had come up with.

  “You can get into Annabelle’s saddle, but I’m going to be the one holding on to the reins and leading you around the corral.” He looked at Debi to gauge her response to his idea.

  “You mean like a pony ride in an amusement park?” She could almost envision it. To her mind, the whole thing seemed painfully ludicrous.

  Thinking it over, Jackson inclined his head. “In a way, I guess you hit it dead-on. Yes, like a pony ride in an amusement park—except a lot quieter because the other kids won’t be around.”

  They obviously had different opinions of pony rides and amusement parks. Being taken to one—which he never had—symbolized caring parents and a happy childhood—something else he’d also never had.

  His eyes met hers. He could see Debi’s natural resistance. He sensed that she liked being independent and that was all
well and good, except that wasn’t going to work in this particular situation.

  “It’s the only way,” he informed her, his voice quiet but nonetheless firm. The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt. Annabelle was gentle, but like any horse, she could be spooked. He wasn’t about to take chances. His reason for that went far beyond not wanting his insurance premiums to rise.

  “I’d feel like a kid,” Debi protested. She was a grown woman, which meant she could hold her own reins. Or rather the horse’s, she silently amended.

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Jackson corrected. “Because all the kids at The Healing Ranch have to show that they can master every step before they can move on to the next step. An inexperienced novice to the sport wouldn’t ask to leap from being that to riding like a moderately experienced horsewoman in one step,” he pointed out. Jackson crossed his arms before him and studied her face. “Now, what’ll it be?”

  Debi knew there was only one answer she could give him. Otherwise, she had a very strong feeling that her horseback experience would be put on hold, maybe even indefinitely.

  Still, she wasn’t above trying to persuade him to see it her way at least once.

  “Tell you what, I’ll do it the right way starting tomorrow evening—if I can ride Annabelle on my own for five minutes tonight.” She followed up the proposition with a wide, hopeful smile. “Please?”

  Jackson ignored her smile—for her own good. It wasn’t exactly easy, but then, he could be stoic when he had to be.

  “My way,” he reminded her.

  Her smile vanished, replaced by a frustrated frown. “You’re being overly cautious.”

  Maybe he was, but it was far better to be safe than to be sorry. He knew what the latter could feel like. “My way.”

  Debi blew out a breath, fairly convinced that there was no way she was going to change his mind. She might as well give up gracefully.

  “Your way,” she said with a quick bob of her head as she conceded the point—and game—to him.

  To her surprise, Jackson didn’t gloat or look smug for having won, the way she’d expected. Instead, he merely nodded and immediately got started. “Okay, let me show you where we keep the saddles and the rest of the gear you’ll need.”

  She followed right on his heel to the closet. When he opened the doors, she saw that there were stacks of saddles, blankets and bridles.

  Collecting what was needed, Jackson proceeded to demonstrate to her the proper way to saddle a horse. Debi watched, making mental notes for when he had her do it—as she was completely certain that he would. Jackson led by example—but he expected that example to be closely followed to the letter.

  “Wait, doesn’t that hurt her?” Debi asked, concerned, when she saw Jackson start to put the bridle bit into the mare’s mouth.

  Quite honestly, she had never given what was involved in preparing a horse to be ridden any thought one way or the other. But being so close to the animal as it was taking place made Debi so much more aware of the process.

  “They fight against it at first, but not because having the bit in their mouths hurts. They fight it because they instinctively know that it means the intended rider is exercising dominance over them. The horses resist that at all costs in the beginning. It’s only natural,” he emphasized. He saw the way Debi was eyeing Annabelle and guessed at what was going on in her head. “She’s used to me, that’s why she doesn’t fight anything I do. She trusts me,” he added proudly. “For the most part, once a horse is broken in, they pretty much put up with being bridled and saddled without a fuss—unless whoever’s doing it mishandles them or treats them cruelly.”

  Finished, Jackson took hold of the bridle with one hand, holding on to it lightly.

  “Ready?” he asked Debi.

  She was a little nervous, but Ryan had done this, she told herself. If he could do it, then she could. After all, she was the older sibling, not Ryan. And as the big sister, she had an obligation to always be the one whom Ryan looked up to, the one who would always be an example for him to model himself after. That meant jumping into the deep end of the pool even if all she had was one swimming lesson under her belt. She had to be fearless so that her brother would never entertain fear.

  She had to be good so that he didn’t fail. There it was, all tied up in a bow. The philosophy that helmed her life.

  “I was born ready,” she answered him.

  Jackson tried not to smile at that. Just as he tried not to smile as he watched her attempt to put her foot into the stirrup and mount Annabelle.

  And fail.

  Then fail again.

  “Would you like a little boost?” he finally suggested after her third unsuccessful attempt to swing herself into the saddle.

  Debi hated admitting defeat. “How do the boys do it?” she asked, frustrated.

  “Simple. They’re taller than you. And they’re used to this. Now, about that help?” he asked her, waiting.

  At least he didn’t say the teens were more agile than she was. Looking back at Jackson, she knew she wasn’t going to get any help from him until she officially asked him for it. Resigned, she gave in.

  “Yes, please,” she said grudgingly, wary about just what that so-called “help” from Jackson might ultimately wind up being.

  To her surprise, Jackson stood before her, laced his fingers together and then bent down, holding his interlaced hands right in front of her.

  The implication was clear, but when she continued to just stare at his hands, Jackson spoke up to encourage her.

  “Go ahead, put your foot right here.” To move things along, Jackson bent down even farther so that she could easily comply with his directions. “Grab hold of the saddle horn with one hand so that you can pull yourself up. Meanwhile, put your foot right here in my hands,” he instructed again.

  Feeling a little strange, not to mention rather wobbly, Debi did as she was told. Liftoff was less than smooth, but she did manage it, which was all that counted.

  “Hey, it worked,” she cried happily.

  “Yeah, how about that.” Jackson pretended to be just as surprised as she was. He secretly enjoyed this display of enthusiasm he saw.

  Taking the reins in his hand, he proceeded to lead her horse out of the stables and into the corral.

  “Hold on to the saddle horn,” he advised.

  “Again?” While happy, she still wanted reasons for everything. “Why?”

  “So you don’t fall off,” he answered simply.

  “I do have a sense of balance, you know,” she protested, then added, “You know, you worry too much.”

  “Keeps my insurance premiums down,” he quipped without looking over his shoulder at her. He just continued walking as he led her horse in a circle.

  She hadn’t thought of that. Just because this was a rural area of the country and he was running a ranch didn’t mean that they were separated from all the annoying, so-called finer points of civilization. Like needing insurance for protection against circumstances that could bring about the loss of the ranch.

  After all, Jackson ran a ranch that took in troubled teens. Myriad troubles could befall one of those teens—or be caused by them. Things he needed to be insured against—just in case some relative suddenly turned up to cite a violation that had in actuality never occurred.

  She saw Jackson in a whole new, far more complicated light. He wasn’t just a simple cowboy or even just a laid-back, drop-dead-gorgeous rancher. He was all that plus a businessman.

  “Do you ever feel like chucking it all and going back to just being a rancher?” she asked him, curious.

  Jackson continued walking along the perimeter, tedious though it seemed.

  He thought her question over.

  “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But then I watch a kid get turned around and s
uddenly it all seems worth it. And, if you want to be technical about it, I was never really a rancher. What I did was help my uncle on the ranch after he straightened me out, but I never had a place of my own to run, at least not one that didn’t involve working with hostile young guys who felt they’d been dealt a bum hand.” He thought about his initial answer to her. “Seeing one of those get turned around, well, there’s really nothing like it,” he reiterated with feeling.

  He’d been guiding Annabelle around the corral, keeping very close to the edges of the corral’s perimeter as he talked with Debi and answered her questions. Before he knew it, he realized that he had come full circle and they were back at the entrance to the stables where they had started.

  Not that he minded spending time with her like this, but it was getting late. Besides, he had a feeling that there were more than a couple of pairs of eyes watching him and Ryan’s sister. He didn’t want the boys to have anything more to talk about than he assumed they already had.

  “How about calling it a night?” he suggested to Debi. “I think Annabelle’s tired.”

  She had no idea how he could tell, but she wasn’t about to argue or question his judgment. He had indulged her and she really appreciated it. “Whatever you say, Jackson,” she answered.

  Whatever he said. Jackson had to admit that he liked the sound of that.

  The problem was, there were a lot of things he felt like saying to her.

  A lot of things he felt like doing with her, as well. Neither of these impulses, he knew, was safe to act on. Not when he thought of the direction that either could take him or, for that matter, the consequences that lay at the end of either line.

  Bringing Annabelle and her passenger back into the stable, he stopped just short of putting the horse into the stall.

  Debi looked down at him. “Something wrong? Why did you stop?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he told her, letting the end of the mare’s reins touch the ground. The horse knew enough to remain where she was, as steadfast as if the reins had been tightly tied to a post, physically tethering her. “But it might be easier all around if you dismounted now, before I put Annabelle into her stall and take her saddle off.”