Charlie narrowed her eyes. “He doesn’t need my help,” she said. “This whole dude ranch thing was your idea, so I guess the cooking and cleaning is your job now.” She grinned. “Got yourself just what you wanted, right?” She punched a fist in the air in a mock feminist salute. “You go, girl.”
Chapter 30
Sandi frowned, and a deep crease appeared between her brows, a crack in the gleaming façade of her beauty. “I took a look at all that dreck you stowed in the kitchen,” she said. “I haven’t got a clue what to do with it. I mean, eggplants? Brown rice?”
“For ratatouille,” Charlie said.
“Rat-a-what?” Taylor grimaced. “There aren’t actually rats in it, are there?”
Charlie shook her head. “Nope. Just onions, tomatoes—you know. It’s good. And besides, Phaedra’s a vegetarian. So am I.”
“So we all have to suffer?” Sandi scowled. “I don’t know how to cook that stuff.”
“Guess you’d better figure it out, ’cause it’s all we’ve got,” Charlie said. “Unless you know what to do with a brisket, or a boneless shoulder from some poor deformed cow.” She turned to Taylor. “I think our break’s probably over now. Time to get cracking on the horse whispering.” She slanted her eyes toward the blonde. “You know, those lessons we paid Sandi all that money for.”
She gave the woman an imperious wave. “Do me a favor, would you? Go tell Nate we’re ready for him,” Charlie said. “I sure am glad you showed up to help. The place was a little understaffed, you know? Compared to what you promised in that brochure.” She grinned. “You coming, Taylor? Nate said I might be able to get a saddle on Trouble today.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Sandi said. “I’d say you’ll be dealing with trouble, all right.”
Charlie whirled. “What does that mean?”
Sandi widened her eyes. “Oh, nothing. That’s the name of your horse, right? Trouble. So appropriate.”
***
“Okay,” Nate said, opening the gate to the round pen. “Charlie, Trouble’s ready for you.”
Trouble didn’t look ready. In fact, she was doing her damndest to kick the round ring apart, rearing up and hitting it with her front hooves, then turning and kicking with her heels. When that didn’t work, she took a fast turn around the perimeter and slammed into the gate once, twice, three times, then stood trembling, staring at the immovable wall. Throwing up her head, she let out a high, desperate whinny that pierced Charlie’s heart like the wail of a baby.
“What do I do?”
Nate handed her a flexible pole with a scrap of fabric on the end. “Get in there and keep her moving with the flag.”
“You don’t want me to do like I did with Junior?” Nate had explained today’s strategy before they started, but Charlie still hoped she could somehow make it easier.
“Nope. This is different. You’re going to ride her today. You need to be the boss, not her best friend.”
Charlie sighed. She was already Trouble’s best friend—well, her best human friend, anyway. The horse ate from her hand, let her stroke her velvety muzzle, and even allowed her to tease the tangles out of her mane. She was more than willing to give the horse time—to let her get accustomed to people before putting her to work.
But Nate was adamant. “The quicker she learns to trust you, the easier her life will be,” he’d said. “And she won’t trust you until she respects you. It’s not harsh, Charlie. You’re not going to hurt her. Just push her a little.”
Charlie slid off the fence and into the soft raked dirt of the ring, taking her place in the center as Trouble took off and galloped around the perimeter, then arched her back and crow-hopped a few times before kicking up her heels and taking off again.
“You have got to be kidding,” Charlie said. “I’m going to ride her today?”
“Don’t let her see you doubt it,” Nate said.
Charlie took a step toward Trouble, then danced away as the horse flailed her back legs. “She’ll kick me.”
“She can’t kick you when she’s running away,” Nate said. “Holler at her.”
“She’ll be scared of me.”
“Okay. Guess you can’t do it.” Nate sighed and turned toward the rest of the group. “Phaedra, you want to try?”
“No, wait,” Charlie said, feeling panic rise in her chest. “I can do it.”
“Really?” Nate raised a doubting eyebrow. “You were just listing all the reasons why you couldn’t. Trouble seems to believe every one of them.”
The horse backed up and slammed into the fence again, as if to demonstrate her faith in Charlie’s reasoning.
“No, I can do it.”
“Don’t tell me. Tell her.”
“But I’m driving her away. I don’t get how that helps.”
Nate stepped into the ring and stood beside her. Taking the flag, he tapped the ground behind the horse and set her in motion.
“Trust me. Sometimes when someone pushes you away over and over, it makes you want nothing more than to be with them.”
Charlie gave him a sharp look. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
But maybe it did. She’d pushed Nate away—after their first kiss, that morning after they fell into bed together, and the day they picked up the horses. She’d pushed him away over and over, but he hadn’t given up. If anything, he seemed to want her more.
She hoped he didn’t think her behavior was a calculated strategy. She wasn’t manipulating him. She genuinely didn’t think a relationship between the two of them was a possibility.
Well, she thought that most of the time. But once in a while, joining up with Nate seemed like the only way to set her universe on the right path.
“Trust me, it’s working.” Nate handed her the flag. “Just keep pushing. You’ll see.”
Taking a deep breath, Charlie took the flag and turned her attention to the horse. Waving the flag, she took a quick step forward, and the mare set off at a gallop.
“That’s the first thing you’ve done right,” Nate said. “With the horse, I mean.” He grinned. “Other than that, you’ve done lots of things right, but never mind. Keep her going.”
Charlie set her jaw and kept the flag moving behind the horse.
“Keep the flag behind her shoulder and don’t let her stop.”
Trouble kept running, sweat glistening on her dark coat, one rolling eye focused on Charlie. She slowed and Charlie let the flag touch her rump.
“Go,” she said.
“Sound like you mean it,” Nate said.
“Yah! Go!”
The horse kept running, but she slowed, and her circle grew smaller. She lowered her head, still watching Charlie, still running.
“She’s tired,” Charlie said.
“That’s what you want,” Nate said. “Keep her going.”
Charlie felt tears heating the back of her eyes as she flicked the flag to keep the mare running. Trouble’s eyes were softer now, begging Charlie for a break as clearly as if the horse had spoken. She worked her mouth and dropped her head, as if pleading to be allowed to stop.
“That’s what you’re looking for,” Nate said. “See how she’s chewing and dropping her head? That’s submissive. And she’s watching you, paying attention. Ease up now.”
Charlie stilled, lowering the flag, and the horse slowed, then stopped, facing her from just a few feet away.
“Touch her with the flag.”
Charlie cast a doubting eye toward Nate, then gently brushed the mare’s shoulder with the flag. Trouble started and dodged away, then stood still, watching Charlie.
“Again,” Nate said. “All over.”
Charlie touched the horse again and Trouble stood still, trembling as Charlie stroked her back with the scrap of fabric, tickled her legs, her belly, even her ears. The horse stepped aside once or twice, but finally submitted.
Nate smiled. “Now you get to pet her.”
Charlie smoothed the horse’s damp coat with her hand. “Sor
ry, baby,” she said. “So sorry. It’s okay.”
“Don’t apologize to her,” Nate said. “Praise her if you want, but you’re doing her a favor, and you need to show that with your attitude. She can read you like a book, so be confident. It’ll be easier for her if she sees you as a leader.”
He slid from the fence and handed Charlie a lead rope. “Now you’re going to take her out and snub her to that post over there.” He pointed. “Tie her high and close, so she can’t get a leg over the rope. She’s going to struggle, but she’ll be okay.”
Charlie did as she was told, clipping the rope to Trouble’s halter and tying the horse to the post with a quick-release knot. Trouble’s mood changed in an instant. Setting her hooves, she pulled against the rope, twisting her head every which way in an effort to escape.
Charlie tried to stay quiet, but she couldn’t help herself. “She’ll hurt herself.”
“She might,” Nate said. “But not much, and only if she fights. It shouldn’t take long for her to figure that out.”
It shouldn’t have, but it did. Charlie watched Trouble from the corner of her eye as Doris ran through the same procedure with her buckskin. Trouble’s fiery nature flared up and she fought the rope through Doris’s whole session before she gave up and stood trembling at the post. Charlie watched, feeling every tug of the rope. By the time the horse stilled, she felt like she’d been through the torment herself.
“Now the tarp.” Nate tossed a blanket to Charlie. “Wave it over her back, over her head, around her feet—get her used to it. You’re almost there.”
Charlie flashed him a doubting look, but she did as she was told. Surprisingly, Trouble stood patiently while Charlie flicked the blanket all around her body.
“Okay,” Nate said. “She’s ready. Saddle up.”
Chapter 31
An hour later, Charlie ran a brush over Trouble’s damp coat.
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “I can’t believe I just rode a wild horse.”
“I can’t believe it either,” Nate said, grinning. “What would your PETA friends think?”
“If they could see it, they’d know it was okay. Trouble’s not scared anymore.” She untangled a knot in the mare’s mane. “She seems calmer.”
“How about you?”
“I’m calmer too. Mostly because I’m exhausted.”
“Ready for dinner?”
Charlie gave Trouble a final pat and a kiss on the muzzle. “I guess.”
She almost groaned when she sat down at the dinner table. Sandi had ignored the eggplants and onions and raided the freezer instead. A huge pot of stew occupied the center of the table. There was no ratatouille—although as far as Charlie was concerned, the chunks of meat floating in the pot might as well be rat. Rat, cow, cat—it made no difference. Meat was meat, and Charlie wouldn’t eat any of it.
She scanned the table for something she could eat. A faint wisp of fragrant steam rose from a napkin-lined basket in the center of the table. Charlie reached over and pushed the cloth aside. Biscuits.
She took one and split it open. It flaked apart in delicate layers, releasing another cloud of delicious fresh-baked scent. Sandi might not know how to cook vegetarian, but she obviously had Charlie beat when it came to baking. When Charlie tried to make biscuits, they came out dense as hockey pucks and hit the plate with an audible thunk.
“Great biscuits,” Taylor said, slathering one with butter. “Good stew too. You sure it’s not rat, though?”
“I’m sure.” Sandi flashed him a flirtatious grin. “Pure Angus beef. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up with what you’re used to in L.A.”
“This is fine,” Taylor said.
The two of them spent the rest of the meal discussing Hollywood, with Sandi listening breathlessly as Taylor spun tales of movie sets and stars. Finally, Nate pushed back his chair and set his napkin on the table.
“Got to feed the horses,” he said.
Charlie stood too. “I’ll help.”
Sandi frowned. “No. You’re a paying guest, remember?” She tossed her hair and tilted her annoyingly perfect nose in the air. “I’ll help Nate with the horses.” She gave Nate a significant look. “Our horses.”
Charlie would have laughed at the look of horror on Nate’s face if she hadn’t felt so sorry for him—and for the horses.
“I’ll be okay,” he said. “Don’t worry about it, Sandi.”
“I’m not worried,” Sandi said. “I want to help with Junior. You said he was vicious, but you let her pet him.”
“Charlie knows how to handle him, that’s all,” Nate said. “It’s part of what I’m teaching.”
“Well, if Charlie can do it, I can do it. Teach me.” Sandi set off for the barn, slender hips swinging.
Nate turned to Charlie and scowled. “Why’d you have to tell her I’d let you handle the horse?” He waved her away. “Go play cards or something. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Feeling dismissed, Charlie left without a word, the other students trailing behind. Only Sam was unaffected by the tension. Trotting ahead, she stopped on the steps and swept a bottle of polish from her pocket like a magician unveiling a rabbit from his top hat.
“Look, Mr. Barnes,” she said. “Mom had fuchsia! Your favorite!”
“Sam, I don’t think…” Charlie began.
“Do you think Mom should do it?” Sam fingered the bottle, biting her lower lip. “I mean, she’s going to beauty school and he is a movie star. But she’s busy with the horses now, helping Dad. I thought maybe I could surprise her.”
Charlie nodded, casting a teasing smile toward Taylor. “Well, I bet she would be awfully surprised if she came in here and found out you’d painted Mr. Barnes’s nails fuchsia.”
Taylor made a mournful face, as if he’d been sentenced to the scaffold, but he sat down on the side of Charlie’s bed and held out his big, square hands. “Go for it, pardner,” he said. “But no cameras, okay? I don’t want to turn up in the National Enquirer with my nails painted pink. They’d probably say I was sporting ladies’ panties too.”
Charlie stifled a giggle while Taylor’s face turned a shade of pink that just about matched the nail polish. Sam, who had been shaking the bottle as they talked, knelt in front of Taylor and had just unscrewed the top when a high, panicked scream rent the air outside. Every head turned toward the barn.
“Junior!” Charlie said.
***
Nate dropped the bucket of sweet feed he was dumping into Boy’s feed bin and vaulted the stall door, dashing toward the sound of Junior’s panicked scream. He was about to fling the stall door open and hurl himself onto whatever was hurting the stallion, but the scene inside the barn stopped him dead in the doorway.
Junior was backed into the corner of his stall, eyes rolling like loose marbles, lather coating his neck. A panicked grimace pulled his skin tighter than a Hollywood facelift, highlighting every vein and muscle and drawing his lips back from his teeth. As Nate watched, the horse stretched his neck out in a sinuous snakelike motion, snapping his teeth, then repeated the motion twice more. Something had him riled up way beyond sanity.
And that something was crouched in the center of the stall.
Sandi.
Nate thought he might never breathe again. She was crouched in the straw, her hands covering her face, knees drawn up to her chest. Her shoulders heaved with sobs.
“He kicked me,” she said.
He unlatched the gate, careful not to let it click too loudly, and slid inside the stall. Edging toward her, he dodged away as Junior snapped again, his face a mask of panic.
“Can you walk?” Nate asked.
Sandi shook her head. Nate wanted to run to her and drag her out of harm’s way, but he knew better than to move too fast. Breathing slowly, he calmed himself. Hopefully, the horse wasn’t too far gone to connect and feel the soothing vibrations Nate was sending his way.
A soft voice behind him broke his concentration.
“I could help.”
Charlie had entered the barn so quietly Nate hadn’t heard her. Neither had Junior, but he heard her now and rolled his eyes her way, a shiver rippling his skin from his neck to his heaving ribs. “Tell me what to do,” Charlie said.
Nate remembered Sandi’s argument. You let her pet him. This whole thing was Charlie’s fault. This was what happened when you let outsiders mess with your animals.
Of course, Charlie wasn’t really an outsider. Or at least, he hadn’t thought she was.
Maybe he’d been wrong. Too quick to trust.
Pulling in a long breath, he struggled to retain his composure. “Just go,” he said. “You’ve done enough.”
He’d tried to keep a mild tone, but something in his voice sent Junior into another round of hysterics. Bunching his hindquarters, he lifted his front hooves and spun toward Sandi. Nate lunged from the side of the stall and slammed into the horse’s shoulder, shoving the stallion sideways so his striking hooves hit the straw a bare six inches from where Sandi crouched in the straw.
“Mom,” squeaked a small voice.
Sam. Nate blanched.
Sam. The horse. Sandi. Sam. His mind was scrambling, his protective urge dodging from one thing to another. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused hard on the horse under his hands. He was leaning into Junior’s shoulder, his fingers buried in the damp strands of the horse’s mane as he tried through sheer force of will to hold the animal steady. It wasn’t working. He could feel muscles twitching under the animal’s damp coat, threatening to explode into action. If the horse reared, Nate would be tossed off as easily as a rag doll. He didn’t have the physical strength to hold the animal in check. Only his mind could hold the horse steady, and his mind was spinning with panic. Sandi. Sam. Sam. Sandi. Junior. He sorted the threats in his head, and one rose to the surface.
“Sam,” he said, through clenched teeth.
“I’ve got her,” Charlie said. “Come on, honey. Daddy’s got the horse. Don’t worry.”
Nate felt some of the tension leach out of his muscles as the barn door closed behind them. He rested his forehead against the horse and willed himself calm while he flicked through his options in his head. He needed to get Sandi out of the stall. But if he focused away from the horse, anything could happen.
One Fine Cowboy Page 21
