Winning the Rancher's Heart

by Arlene James

With great relief, Ryder saw that Tolly was striding toward them. “There’s the Realtor.”

  For a long moment, Jeri just sat there, staring at her hands as if arguing with herself. Then she got out of the truck to greet the patient, affable Realtor. After a moment’s discussion, both Jeri and Tolly walked toward the truck. Apparently, they had agreed to use Jeri’s truck for today’s expedition. Ryder hopped out and offered the front seat to the older man, but Tolly waved Ryder back.

  “No, no. You’re fine.”

  Ryder opened the back door for the Realtor and started around to open the door for Jeri, too, but she was already back behind the wheel. He closed the door on the Realtor and returned to his own seat, determined to take careful stock of the properties they would see today.

  If Wyatt ultimately decided against sponsoring the horse business at Loco Man Ranch, Ryder reasoned that he could always go out on his own. In fact, it might be best if he did. He had a little money put aside but not a lot of credit. Maybe he ought to buy that new truck now and start building his credit rating so he could qualify for a decent mortgage.

  As directed, Jeri entered the pasture via a nearby cattle guard, and the truck bounced across sandy ground with good grass. It looked like excellent horse country to Ryder, but Jeri murmured about the lack of immediate water. When the Realtor explained that a creek ran nearby and windmills pumped in three other locations, Jeri merely nodded. After viewing another property, this one cut by gullies and littered with mounds of dangerous coils of used barbed wire, they returned the Realtor to his vehicle.

  “Thanks for meeting me,” he said, smiling.

  Ryder felt sorry for the man. Surely he felt Jeri’s ambivalence as keenly as Ryder did.

  “You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Jeri said. “That last property is the most promising we’ve seen.”

  “We’re making progress then,” Tolly declared, getting into his SUV.

  “What do you suppose that piece will go for?” Ryder asked.

  Tolly considered and answered, “Two hundred thousand or thereabouts.”

  Ryder nodded but said nothing as he and Jeri walked back to her truck, his mood about as low as his feet. The idea of a $200,000 price tag for 160 acres with no buildings on it shocked Ryder. Admittedly, the price was cheaper than either Wyatt’s or Jake’s house in Houston, but Ryder hadn’t owned a home to sell before making this move. He’d just have to keep saving.

  At least his toes didn’t throb with every step today. Another part of him did ache, though. His heart ached because his dream seemed as distant as ever and at some point he was going to have to satisfy Jeri’s curiosity.

  He told himself neither problem really mattered in the long run. He’d eventually get that horse ranch, and she was never meant for him, anyway. If he’d harbored unrecognized hopes in that direction, they’d been dashed as soon as she’d brought up Bryan’s death. As beautiful as Jeri was, as much as she drew him, as strong as their common interests were, and as perfectly as she fit against him and felt in his arms, the two of them had no future together. Even if she permanently moved to the area, no romantic attachment could develop between them. She was already disturbed by Bryan’s death. Once she knew the full story, she would be appalled.

  The only mystery was why he felt so bereft, as if he’d lost something important when he’d never had it to begin with.

  * * *

  Jeri smiled at Ryder, who sat at the kitchen table the next morning nursing a cup of coffee. Freshly shaved and smiling, he was devastatingly handsome. She’d realized yesterday that she’d pushed too hard. Discussing Bryan’s death had left her sad and edgy. She could imagine how Ryder must have felt. No wonder he hadn’t confided in her. If she was too aggressive, she’d drive him away—which would accomplish nothing. As much as she wanted this fact-finding mission behind her, she understood now that she couldn’t rush it. She’d simply have to wait until he trusted her enough to explain what had happened with Bryan.

  Thus far, he’d revealed a deep sadness and obvious regret but not guilt. Worse, he’d implied some secret about Bryan’s behavior, which meant she had to keep digging, just not so blatantly. Besides, she couldn’t be displeased about spending more time in Ryder’s company.

  “Any chance you’re free this morning?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, I’ve promised to help Jake right after breakfast.”

  Jake walked into the room just then, as if saying his name had conjured him.

  “Speaking of breakfast,” Kathryn said, pulling two big pans from the oven. “It’s ready.”

  “Let me help,” Jeri offered.

  “You can get the oranges out of the refrigerator,” Kathryn directed, transferring food onto a plate. She smiled at her husband. “Sweetheart, would you round up the boys, please?”

  He strode toward the staircase. “Call me sweetheart, and I’ll do anything you want.”

  Blushing, Kathryn giggled. They were such a cute couple. Jeri shared an amused look with Ryder, who winked at her. A swirl of pleasure sent her heart racing. Oh, if only he had never crossed paths with her brother, she thought wistfully.

  “Might you have time to help me set up a practice area later in the day?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.

  “Sure. Be glad to. I’m curious about what you do, anyhow.”

  That should not have pleased Jeri, but it did. She couldn’t quell a bright smile as she hurried to the refrigerator and took out a big bowl of quartered oranges. When she set them on the table, Ryder looked up at her.

  “Is right after lunch okay?”

  “Excellent.”

  Kathryn slid a tray filled with two plates of food onto the end of the table and reached for the orange sections. After filling a small bowl with oranges, she picked up the tray again, obviously intending to carry it in to Tina and Wyatt. Ryder immediately got to his feet.

  “Here, let me do that.” He took the tray from her hands and carried it toward the hallway.

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Jeri turned to Kathryn. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “What happens when Ryder loses his temper?”

  Kathryn pulled back so sharply that her chin almost disappeared into her throat. “I don’t think he has a temper. I’ve never seen any sign of it. Jake, now, he can be irritable at times, but I’ve never seen him or Ryder act truly provoked. According to Tina, Wyatt’s got a bit of a temper, but he keeps it tightly reined, and it’s all over in a flash. None of the Smith brothers have any anger issues, but especially not Ryder. Why do you ask?”

  Shrugging, Jeri mumbled, “Just curious. He seems extremely...even-keeled, almost unnaturally so.” A sudden thought hit her, and she blurted it before she could stop herself. “Does he take medication? Mood stabilizers, maybe?”

  Kathryn burst out laughing. “No way. Jake says Ryder was appalled by the heavy drug use in—” She abruptly broke off and shook her head. “Ryder doesn’t like drugs of any sort. We can barely get him to use over-the-counter stuff.”

  Jeri wanted to press her on that, but Kathryn went back to the stove, effectively closing the subject. Besides, Jeri was beginning to think that Kathryn’s assessment was entirely correct.

  But what did that say about Bryan’s death? Had it truly been nothing more than an accident? She couldn’t quite believe that. But she couldn’t quite blame Ryder anymore, either.

  She just didn’t know what to do or think now.

  One thing seemed certain: she was going to spend more time here than she’d hoped.

  Now, if only she could be unhappy about that.

  Chapter Eight

  Shaking his head, Ryder leaned back against a post and crossed his arms.

  Jeri was at it again, asking questions. At least they weren’t about Bryan’s death this time. Kathryn had quietly conf
ided that Jeri had even asked her if he had a temper and how he maintained his “even keel.” To shy, careful Kathryn, the questions had somehow felt ominous, but Jake had laughed off her fears.

  “The girl is sweet on him. She’s looking for a way to his heart. That’s all.”

  Silently thrilled with the idea, Ryder had made a scoffing sound and left them to meet her. Now he wondered who had been right, Kathryn or Jake? Most likely neither. Stupid as it was, though, he hoped Jake had the right of it. Not that Jeri would have to look very hard to find a way to his heart. He was already half in love with her, questions and all.

  “Everyone has regrets,” he told her in answer to her latest query.

  She leaned against the top rail of the stall gate, reaching over it to pet Dovie’s muzzle. “Oh? And what’s something you did or said that you regret?”

  Ryder indulged in a moment of introspection and came up with an acceptable answer. “When I was about twelve, I told my dad that he needed to get over my mother’s death.”

  Blinking, Jeri straightened. “I can imagine how well that went over.”

  Ryder smiled wryly. “I was small when she died, and I remember it was an awful time, but my life wasn’t so rough after that, thanks to Wyatt and Jake. In fact, by the time I hit middle school, everyone seemed fine to me, like we’d all moved on. Everyone but Dad. I’d heard Wyatt and Jake say that he just couldn’t get over losing Mom, so in my great, preteen wisdom, I thought I’d let him know he needed to clean up his act.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  “Yeah. He told me that he hoped I’d love someone someday the way he loved my mom. And that I’d never have to mourn her or learn to live without her. Then he hugged me.” Ryder held his thumb and forefinger about a half inch apart. “I felt about this big.”

  Jeri’s eyes glistened dangerously, her chin wobbling as if she might cry. “That’s so sad.”

  Ryder took a chance and slid his arms around her, pulling her close. “At least I learned an important lesson. When I told Wyatt about it, he advised me to start praying for Dad. Soon, instead of resenting him for his constant sadness I could concentrate on loving him through it. He never really got over her death, but he did seem to have more moments of joy.”

  Sweeping off her hat, Jeri tucked her head under his chin and snuggled against him, her delicate hands folded against his chest. “I’m glad about that.”

  “Me, too.”

  It seemed to be his day for taking risks, so he curled a forefinger beneath her chin and turned up her face, letting his gaze fall on her lips. He gave her ample time to pull away before he tilted his head and lowered it. Before their lips met, a gust of hot breath sent his hat tumbling. He instinctively ducked. Jeri spun around and shook a finger at the pregnant mare. Dovie snorted and blew insistently.

  “Cut it out! You’re staying here. No matter what you do.”

  Ryder laughed and retrieved his hat. “She’s as bad as Pearl.”

  “She wants to be out there with the other horses, but if I let her into the corral then don’t work her, she’s liable to kick the fence down.” Jeri slapped her hat onto her head and folded her arms. “She’s not leaving this stall until after practice.”

  Turning, Ryder rubbed the mare’s nose. “Getting left out is no fun, is it, girl? A lady can be forgiven a fit of temper when she’s expecting and locked up.” He turned a grin on Jeri. “Sounds like my sister-in-law.”

  “I’m sure Tina would love to know she’s being compared to a horse.”

  Still grinning, Ryder shrugged. “Just seems like we’re surrounded by restless expectant mothers these days.”

  Jeri laughed. “That much is true. Honestly,” she went on, “Dovie’s the one that most loves to race, but she’s had her day. Glad’s the fastest. Star takes the barrels better than any of the others, but Betty’s the most teachable. She’s really bright.”

  “You can get back at it after this baby comes,” Ryder crooned, scratching Dovie’s chin, but Jeri shook her head.

  “Actually, her racing days are over. After she foals in May, I’ll take her on practice runs just to make her happy, and I might use her for instruction, but she’ll never compete again. Her babies, though, that’s another matter entirely. I can just imagine a horse with her love of racing and Glad’s speed. What a winner that would be.”

  “We’ll just have to pray that way, then,” Ryder said.

  Jeri gave him the oddest look. “You’d pray about something like that?”

  “Of course. I’ve always believed we should pray about everything. That’s how I was raised.”

  Jeri began stroking the animal again. “Did you hear that, girl? We’re sure to get a winner now.”

  Jake often teased that Ryder treated the horses on Loco Man Ranch like pets. Well, if Jake was right, Ryder mused, then Jeri treated her horses like people.

  “Maybe we’d better get to it,” he suggested. “Every minute we stall is another minute of frustration for Dovie.”

  “Okay, let’s get those barrels out.”

  They left Dovie stomping and clomping in her stall and went out through the corral to place the empty fifty-five-gallon practice barrels in the paddock behind Stark’s house. As they walked the ground, though, Jeri shook her head.

  “I thought I could find a way to make this work, but I can’t get a full pattern on the ground here. The standard arena is a hundred and thirty feet wide and two hundred feet long. That lets you place the barrels a safe twenty-five feet from each side. This space is large enough, but part of it’s too sandy and part of it’s too hard. Even if we reduced the size of the pattern, I’d risk injuring my horses.”

  “What are you going to do?” Ryder asked.

  “Only thing I can. Set up a single barrel on a sixty-foot measure and practice circles. The key to a good run is turning a tight circle, at speed, around each barrel. But tipping one adds five seconds to your time or disqualifies you.”

  “I see. So, where do you want the barrel?”

  She trudged around for several minutes then pointed. “Ground’s best through here.”

  Ryder rolled a barrel over and set it upright. She pulled a measuring tape from her coat pocket and handed it to him then pointed toward the corral.

  “Now, we measure sixty feet straight west. Since we can’t set up the whole pattern, there’s no reason to set up the timer.”

  “Timer?”

  “Sure. We use an electric-eye timer these days. You didn’t think we still used stopwatches, did you?”

  “Hadn’t thought about it at all,” Ryder admitted, studying the tape measure. The clever thing had a compass on it. “Straight west it is.”

  He held one end of the metal tape to the barrel while she paced off the required sixty feet, pulling out the tape as she went. Using her heel, she scraped a mark about six feet long on the ground and went to tighten Gladiator’s saddle. Ryder rolled up the tape and followed her. While she warmed up Glad, Ryder saddled Star then climbed up on the paddock fence and took a seat on the top rung. It was a bright day, not uncomfortably cold despite a steady breeze. He noticed that Jeri had unzipped her jacket. She positioned Glad some fifty or sixty feet behind the starting line.

  Glad danced excitedly then calmed, his hindquarters quivering. Suddenly, Jeri heeled him, and he took off like he was shot out of a cannon. Ryder gasped. They flew past the starting line and a heartbeat later were turning around the barrel. Then they were flying back the way they’d come. She slowed the stud and walked him back to position. Ryder had to laugh. If he’d ever seen an animal happy to strut his stuff, it was Gladiator. If he could have spoken, that horse would have been crowing, “Look at me! Look at me!” Star and Betty, meanwhile, stood placidly in the corral while Dovie bumped around in protest inside the barn.

  Jeri put the stud through his paces maybe twenty times. The animal had developed a habit
of slinging his back feet around as he circled the barrel, but she soon quelled that with pacing and the well-placed flick of a long quirt. By the end of the session, the stud was grinding that circle with his rear legs just as he was supposed to, his head low, neck outstretched, front legs gobbling up ground.

  Muscle memory, Ryder thought. It was the same way with martial arts. Practice perfected technique and programmed it into the muscles.

  Jeri dismounted and walked the animal into the corral. Ryder hopped off the fence and hurried to help.

  “Can you cool him down while I warm up Star?”

  “You got it.”

  “He won’t want to let you lead him at first, but just pat his neck and keep walking.” She started pulling herself up into the big mare’s saddle, lifting her foot high off the ground.

  How such a little woman could manage even to mount such tall horses, Ryder didn’t know. He walked Glad over and, reins in hand, grasped Jeri by the waist, lifting her high enough she could easily slip her toe into the stirrup. She flashed him a smile and settled into the seat. Ryder wondered how so much electricity could be packed into such a slender body, but he felt it every time he touched her, sometimes just when he looked at her. Did she feel it, too?

  He led Glad out of the corral, waited for Jeri to clear the opening and closed the gate behind her, before folding up the stirrups on Glad’s saddle, loosening the cinch strap and starting off. True to form, Glad dug in his heels, refusing to budge. Ryder turned back and rubbed the big bay’s neck just behind the jaw. The stud sidestepped, but Ryder followed, talking softly and stroking. The stud tossed his head and started forward. Ryder walked along beside him. Only when they turned back toward the corral did Ryder move into the lead. The horse followed along obediently. Eventually, Ryder walked Glad to his stall, unsaddled and curried him. He returned to the corral and saddled Betty before walking out to the paddock to watch Jeri work Star.

  The mare might not have been as fast as Glad on the straightaways, but she circled the barrel as if it required no effort at all, her turns so smooth she hardly seemed to break her stride. She, too, relished the workout. When Jeri finally returned the horse to the corral, Ryder jogged over to meet her. As if she knew her turn was coming, Betty quivered in anticipation. He repeated the process with Star that he’d performed with Glad. During her cooldown, the mare didn’t balk for an instant, though she kept wanting to go faster than was good for her. If he’d let her set the pace, he’d have been running to keep up. Once he had Star stabled and brushed down, he returned to the paddock to hang over the fence, fascinated by the way Jeri worked and the varied responses of the horses. Betty was not as disciplined as Star or Glad. She wanted to throw her head and prance around the barrel, but Jeri continually redirected the mare’s focus. Soon, Betty was zooming down the straightaway and rounding that barrel like the pro she’d soon be.