RODEO MAN

by Margaret Watson

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  RODEO MAN

  Margaret Watson

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  Contents:

  Prologue

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

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  Prologue

  ^»

  "There's someone else, Grady."

  Becca Johnson gripped the phone more tightly in her hand, praying that Grady would see through her lie. Praying that he would say the words she needed to hear, I'm coming home.

  But all she heard on the other end of the telephone line was a heavy silence. A silence that vibrated through the fabric of her lie, until she opened her mouth to tell him the truth.

  Before she could speak, Grady said, "That's too bad, honey. I'm gonna miss you. But it's probably for the best. You don't need any rodeo man sniffing around you once every three or four months. You need someone you can count on, someone to be there for you every day."

  You could be there for me. I want to count on you, she wanted to cry. But she didn't. Holding the phone so tightly she thought she might break it, she said, "I'm glad you understand. No hard feelings, right?"

  She heard his swallow in the silence. "Right. No hard feelings. You take care, now."

  The careful click as he hung up the phone seemed to fill the room around her as it echoed in her head. Why had he just accepted what she'd said? Didn't Grady Farrell know she needed him? Couldn't he see that she loved him, no matter what she said?

  Staring at the receiver still gripped in her hand, Becca felt her stomach twist and tighten. She had made a mistake. She shouldn't have lied, shouldn't have played such a stupid trick to make Grady come home. She should have known it would blow up in her face.

  Replacing the receiver carefully in its cradle, she sank down into a chair. It would be all right, she told herself. Grady would call again in a few months, like he always did, and she could apologize to him then. It wouldn't matter that she'd be away at college. Her parents would give him her phone number. And if they wouldn't, she could track him down herself. She had a schedule of the rodeo circuit. She could figure out where he'd be and when. She would just keep making phone calls until she found him.

  Her stomach churned again, and Becca took a deep breath and willed the nausea away. It must be the tension of not knowing where she stood with Grady, she thought wearily as she pressed a hand to her abdomen. This was the second time in as many days that she'd felt sick to her stomach.

  Or maybe it was just thinking about Grady and wondering what he was going to do. Closing her eyes, she swallowed around the lump in her throat. That was enough to make anyone sick.

  Becca flopped more deeply into the chair. It was the first of September, and she would be starting her second year of college soon. Things would work out with Grady, she told herself bravely. He'd call in a couple of months like nothing had happened, and she'd tell him then that she'd lied. That there never would be anyone else but him.

  Things would work out. They had to.

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  Chapter 1

  «^»

  Dr. Rebecca Johnson leaned against the side of the stall and waited for the fresh-faced young man to slip a halter over the head of the horse.

  "The new owner is supposed to be here sometime this week." The ranch hand tossed her a grin over his shoulder as he buckled the strap behind the horse's ears. "He won the ranch playing poker, you know."

  "That was the rumor," Becca replied. "But you know how rumors get started. Sy probably just sold the place."

  "He didn't." The young man shook his head earnestly. "One of the guys heard him and the ranch manager talking. Yelling, really." He gave her another grin. "Sy said he lost the ranch playing poker, and there wasn't anything he could do about it since there were witnesses. Pretty cool, huh?"

  "Yeah, pretty cool."

  Becca moved to the horse's head and expertly opened its mouth. This ranch hand was only a few years younger than she was, but she felt ancient in comparison. To throw away a piece of land, a business that wasn't just a home but represented security and stability, on the turn of a deck of cards, seemed like the utmost in folly to her.

  Pulling a long instrument out of the back pocket of her jeans, she inserted it into the horse's mouth and began filing its teeth. All the horses on the Flying W Ranch were due to have their teeth floated this month. It wasn't the most exciting part of being a veterinarian, but it was necessary. Becca worked methodically as she listened to the ranch hand assigned to assist her.

  The young man chattered as she worked, and much of what he said echoed of the speculation that had been circulating around Cameron, Utah, since the rumors had started. No one knew who the new owner was or the details of how he'd come to own the Flying W. But the poker-game story had been one of the most popular.

  Stepping back from the bay horse in front of her, Becca watched as the animal shook his head and flattened his ears as he snorted at her. Smiling, she reached out a hand and scratched his nose. "You go ahead and tell me about it, fella. I know you're a tough guy."

  Her assistant ran his hand down the horse's neck. "Beau here is a sweetie. He's one of my favorites."

  "Mine, too," Becca admitted, letting her hand linger on Beau's head. "That's why I started with him."

  She bent down and picked up her bag, placing the long file in a disinfectant solution. "Let's get the next one done."

  Two hours later she dropped the file back into her bag, then straightened. "Thanks for your help, Randy."

  The young hand smiled shyly at her. "You're welcome, Doc. I liked helping. You have a nice way with the horses."

  "I like working with them." Stepping out of the stall, she bent to pick up the stack of records piled on the floor. "You go ahead and get back to work. I know you have a lot of things to do, and I'm just going to make sure there's nothing else that needs to be done today."

  Becca watched the young man walk out of the barn into the sunlight, then slid onto the floor and stretched her legs out in front of her. It would take a little time to record what she'd done on all the charts, and she wasn't likely to be disturbed here in the barn. Picking up the first record, she began writing.

  She'd been working for a while when the sound of voices in the distance drifted into the barn. The voices got closer, and she wrote a little faster on the last chart as she recognized the voice of the ranch foreman. She needed to get back to town on time this afternoon, and if the foreman caught her in the barn, he'd probably think of several other things the horses needed.

  Flipping the last chart closed, she scraped the stack of them into her arms and stood up, grabbing her bag. But as she moved down the center aisle of the barn, she realized she was too late. The foreman and whoever he was talking to were at the door already.

  Becca plastered a smile on her face as she walked a little faster. If she simply said hello and kept moving, she could be in her truck before the foreman realized she was leaving.

  "Hi, Doc." The foreman tipped his hat as he walked into the barn, then turned to the other man and said, "This is Doc Johnson. She's our vet."

  Becca opened her mouth to say hello, then the other man stepped into the barn and out of the bright sunlight that had obscured his face. The files tumbled out of her suddenly nerveless hands as she stared at him.

  "Becca?" the man whispered. Shock filled his eyes.

  "Grady?" Horrified, she stared at the face that had haunted her dreams, day and night, for the past nine years. "What are you doing here?" she blurted out.

  "What am I doing here?" His gaze traveled down her body, then back to her face. His eyes hardened. "I own this ranch."

  "You're the new owner?"

  "What's the matter, Becca? Did you think I was g
oing to be a rodeo bum for the rest of my life?"

  The scorn in his voice was enough to turn her shock to anger. "Yes, that's exactly what I thought. Once a rodeo man, always a rodeo man is what you told me." She gripped her bag more tightly and straightened her back, fighting down a wave of emotion. "Was there any reason for me to think otherwise?"

  Grady opened his mouth to answer, then seemed to remember they weren't alone. Turning to the man standing next to him, he said, "Get lost, Tucker. I'll talk to you later."

  Shooting her a speculative look. Tucker turned and headed toward one of the other buildings. Becca watched him until he was out of earshot, then slowly turned back to face Grady.

  His eyes were the same bright blue, and his hair was just as black as she remembered. The only difference was that now it was cut short instead of hanging over his collar. But the nine years that had passed since she'd seen him had carved their mark on his face. The lines in his face were now deep creases scoring his cheeks. There were lines around his mouth, too. But his eyes looked like they'd aged far more than nine years. Grady had always been a lot more than two years older than her, in every way that counted. Now his eyes held an expression that should have belonged to an old man.

  His eyes softened as he watched her. "You've changed, too, Becca."

  She didn't care that he'd caught her staring. "I grew up, Grady."

  "I can see that you did."

  His gaze moved down her body again, lingering at the lush curves that weren't quite hidden by her T-shirt and denim jeans. Suddenly his eyes weren't soft anymore. They blazed with a fire she remembered all too well. It was the fire that had kept her awake more nights than she could count. Forcing herself not to cross her arms over her chest, she waited until his eyes returned to her face. "And my name isn't 'Becca' anymore. I go by 'Rebecca' now. Or 'Doc.'"

  "So you're the vet for the Flying W. I had no idea you wanted to be a vet."

  "You never had any idea what I wanted. You never asked."

  The fire in his eyes went out, replaced by a flicker of pain. It was quickly extinguished. "I made some mistakes. You were one of them."

  She thought she had made herself immune to pain from Grady Farrell. She was wrong. Bending down to pick up the files she'd dropped, she bit her lip to keep from answering. Nothing good could come of rehashing the past with Grady. It had taken her too long to get over him. She wasn't about to give him another chance to crush her heart.

  As she moved past him, he put his hand on her arm. "Where are you going?"

  Becca stared down at his hand. His fingers curled around her arm, holding her lightly, but she was unable to move. The touch of his hand on her bare skin was shockingly intimate. Each of his fingers burned into her, imprinting on her the strength in his hand, the heat that flowed from it. And the way her heart fluttered in her chest at his touch.

  Swallowing hard, ignoring the heat that rushed through her, she stepped away from him. As his hand fell away, she had a moment of illogical hope that he wouldn't let her go. Right, Becca, she said to herself acidly. Just like he wouldn't let you go nine years ago.

  "I'm leaving," she replied, her voice surprisingly level. "I finished my job here and I have other things to do."

  "It's been nine years, Becca. Surely you can spare a few minutes."

  He spoke quietly, all the mockery gone from his voice.

  The edge of longing she saw in his eyes took the bite out of her anger. It also made her back up another step. She didn't want to feel anything but anger for Grady Farrell. She couldn't afford to.

  "For what? To reminisce?" She tried to keep the anguish out of her voice. "You know I'm a vet, and I know you just won the Flying W in a poker game. Doesn't that about sum it up?"

  "How do you know how I got this ranch?" he asked sharply.

  "Cameron, Utah, is a small town," she replied. "You of all people should know how small towns are. Nothing is a secret."

  "Did Sy Ames tell you that?" Grady leaned closer, pinning her to the spot with an intense look.

  "I don't talk to Sy." Her answer came out more clipped than she intended, and she tried to soften it. "I don't have to. The foreman, Jimmy Tucker, lets me know what has to be done."

  "Is Tucker saying that Sy lost the Flying W in a poker game?"

  "I have no idea what he's saying about the ranch. I don't gossip with him."

  "Then who do you gossip with?"

  Becca felt her face coloring. "I'm just repeating what everyone in Cameron is saying. Why is it such a big deal, anyway?"

  "I guess it isn't." He spoke easily, but she saw that his eyes were guarded and careful. "What were you doing here today?"

  "Floating teeth." She nodded down the aisle of the barn. "All the horses were due."

  He leaned back against a stall and folded his arms across his chest "So you became a vet. Why aren't you back home, practicing in Trinity?"

  Becca fought down the spurt of fear and willed her face into unreadable lines. "Why aren't you back home running your father's ranch in Trinity?"

  His face darkened, but after a moment reluctant admiration filled his eyes. "You've grown up in more ways than one, Becca."

  "That happens." She shifted the charts in her arms and moved toward the door, desperate to get away. Seeing Grady again was bringing back all sorts of feelings she wanted to forget. And it was bringing back the guilt she thought she'd successfully buried.

  "I'm sure I'll see you around." She paused, and in spite of herself her voice softened. "I'm happy for you, Grady. Happy that you have this ranch, that you can settle down."

  "I never thought this would be what I wanted. I'm still not sure. I never wanted any obligations, any restrictions." He watched her steadily as he spoke. "You know me. I believe in traveling light."

  Grady had never wanted to be tied down, by anyone or anything. An ache of regret moved through her again, a dull, familiar, nine-year-old wound. "I'm happy that you at least have a chance to see what restrictions feel like."

  As she turned to go, Grady touched her arm again. "Are you, Becca?" His low voice seemed to bore deep inside her, to find that place that always responded to him, and to no one but him. "Are you really? What would have happened nine years ago if I'd had this ranch?"

  Pain tore through her, a pain composed of regret, yearning and bitterness. But it was a pain she couldn't share with him. Not now, maybe not ever. "Don't ask me that, Grady. It doesn't make any difference. I can't go back and change the past, and neither can you."

  Her arms trembled, and one of the charts slipped to the floor. She bent to pick it up, but Grady was there before her. But instead of picking up the chart, he stared at her left hand, then reached out and took it in his.

  All she could think of was that his hand still felt the same. Hard and callused, but warm and full of life. And when his fingers curled over hers, she couldn't stop the trip of her heart or the flutter of her pulse.

  Still holding her hand, Grady stared at it for a long time before he looked up at her. "Did you marry him, Becca?" His voice was almost a whisper in the quiet barn.

  "Who?" She couldn't draw air into her lungs. She couldn't feel anything but the way his skin felt on hers, the way her hand ached to curl around his and hang on.

  "The 'someone else.' The last time I called, you told me there was someone else."

  She stared at their joined hands, remembering every word of her foolish lie and the consequences of it. She'd been such a child back then. Her lie had changed her life and Grady's forever. And she knew she should tell him the truth. All of it.

  Swallowing hard, she drew her hand away and stood up. She couldn't. At least not today. Someday, she promised herself. He had a right to know, and someday she would tell him. But not today.

  She might have been a child nine years ago, but now she was an adult. She'd chosen her path then and she would deal with the consequences now.

  "I'm not married, Grady." She wanted to touch him again, to take his hand and lose herself
in his strength and warmth. But she tightened her grip on her charts and her bag instead. No matter what her body was telling her, Grady Farrell would be nothing but trouble. "And now I do have to get back to town."

  "It's been a long time, Becca. If there's no one waiting for you, what's the rush?" Heat filled his eyes as he watched her.

  She closed her eyes, knowing he would see the pain in them, and fought down the need to tell him the truth. That someone was waiting for her.

  It wasn't just her own life she was playing with, she reminded herself. And opened her eyes. "I do have other clients," she said, striving for a businesslike tone.

  "Of course." Grady watched her coolly, the heat gone from his eyes. "I understand." He rose slowly and reached out to pluck the stack of files from her arms as they headed toward the door of the barn. "Do you own the practice?"

  "I own part of it," she said, glancing sideways at him, wondering at the sudden change in his sudden coolness. "I have two partners."

  "Do all of you come here to the Flying W?"

  She hesitated, but realized he could find out the truth easily. "No, I'm the Flying W's vet. Unless there's an emergency at night."

  "I suppose you take turns with that."

  She didn't, but she wasn't about to tell him that. She didn't want to get into the reason she didn't do emergency calls.

  "How often are you out here?"

  "It depends on what needs to be done." Before she could describe her usual schedule, she realized what he might be getting at. "If you'd prefer that another one of the vets come out here from now on, I'm sure we can work it out," she added stiffly.

  Grady stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. "That's not what I meant. I'm sure you're a damn good vet. I was just trying to make conversation."

  She glanced at his face, at the hard angles and deep lines scored into his cheeks, at the hidden depths of his eyes. Grady Farrell looked like a man comfortable with silence. He didn't look like the kind of man who ever felt the need to make conversation. "What is it that you want, Grady?"