Counterfeit Cowboy

by Gail MacMillan

  Like some kind of wild, crazed ghost. But, damn, she’s magnificent. We’ve got to help her.

  “Whoa. Easy, girl.” Shelby moved slowly toward the mare and carefully extended a hand. “Whoa, easy, easy,” she cooed. The animal stopped pawing, looked at her, and snorted.

  “That’s a good girl.” Shelby’s hand was within inches of the trailing rope. “Good girl.” But just as she touched it, the mare reared back, a strangled cry of terror erupting from her throat. She barely avoided knocking Shelby out of her path as she shot off up the beach.

  “Jesus, Shelby, be careful!” He couldn’t contain the admonition, his heart hammering against his rib cage.

  “Stay cool, Jordan.” She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder as she passed him to pursue the mare. “It’ll probably take a few more tries. Just stay out of her path when she bolts, and we’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He followed her across the wet sand, his boots sinking into the soggy surface. This was one amazing woman, and she was scaring the beejeebers out of him.

  On her third attempt, Shelby succeeded in catching the rope. The mare snorted and reared, flaying front hooves toward her. Jordan couldn’t remember how he managed to move so fast, but instantly he was with her, holding the rope beside her while her voice, gentle and reassuring, calmed the animal.

  “Good girl.” Her tone never wavered as she and Jordan struggled to bring the mare under control. “Good girl.”

  Jordan felt the rope burning his hands and figured Shelby must be experiencing the same discomfort. Tough and kind and determined. The adjectives scuttled across his mind as he struggled with her to manage a ghostly horse on the storm-lashed beach.

  When they had the animal quiet except for a nervous pawing at the sand, Shelby drew a deep breath and smiled up at Jordan through the bucketing rain.

  “You can let go of the rope now.” She raised her voice above the wind. “I’ve got her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” Her smile filled him with a warmth that even being soaked to the skin couldn’t stop.

  “What now? We can’t get her up the cliff.”

  “Tide’s ebbing. I know this section of coast. The water around that point over there should be shallow enough for us to lead her around and to an area of shore where we can get up from the beach. Come on.”

  She started off, leading the mare toward the end of the cliff to their right and into the water. Jordan followed.

  As Shelby led the horse into the water at the tip of the cliff, the animal began to prance and blow. Jordan floundered through the shallows to help, and together they managed to convince the mare to wade out around the point where waves splashed knee-deep, then thigh-deep around them.

  Several times Grey Lady shied, but Shelby kept doggedly on, Jordan sharing the rope with her, putting tension on it when she gave him the signal, easing off when she nodded.

  It seemed to take forever, lashed by waves, rain, and wind, but finally Jordan saw with a wave of relief that they’d rounded the point of the cliff and were near a flat section of beach where they could lead the mare up into a grassy field. Already he could see the lights of rescue workers rushing to the shore to assist them and a familiar horse trailer being backed toward the shore. Good old reliable Travis.

  “Jordan, go ahead and tell them all to keep back.” Shelby paused as the horse began to prance again. “She’s nervous, and too many strangers won’t help. Get Travis to lower the tailgate and then move away.”

  “Okay.” He strode off to do as she’d instructed. As the group of rescuers, including Travis, moved back, she guided the mare toward the trailer. At the ramp, the animal hesitated, then tried to swing away.

  “Whoa, girl, easy, easy.” Jordan marveled at the calmness of her voice, how she could remain firm yet gentle under the circumstances. Rain trickled down her face, her yellow raincoat was streaked with mud, and her feet in a pair of too-large wellingtons staggered, but she kept on until she had the frightened mare in the trailer and securely tied.

  When she emerged from the trailer, a cheer went up from the workers just as a white SUV careened to a stop just behind the group. Andy Crowell, wearing a slicker, jumped out and strode to where Shelby stood at the rear of the trailer giving instructions to Travis.

  “Take her to our place, Travis, get her into a stall, and dry her off. Jake and I will follow in his truck.”

  “Shelby, what in hell…?” Andy Crowell caught her by an arm and swung her to face him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving the reception? I looked everywhere for you. Finally someone said they’d seen you driving off in an old green truck.”

  “I got called to this accident. A horse was injured. I had to leave right away.”

  “Well, you’ve done your duty. Come on, get in. You look half frozen. I’ve got the heater blasting.”

  “I’m going to ride back to the farm with Jake.” She tried to shrug free. “He picked me up at the wedding and…”

  “Drive you home in that piece of junk he calls a truck? Damn it, Shelby, I’ll bet my farm the heater doesn’t work in it. You’ll catch your death. Anyhow, it probably tops out at seventy km. My wheels can make it to one hundred twenty in seconds. Come on, that horse needs you, and fast.”

  She cast a glance at Jordan, her eyes wide.

  “Go on.” The words came out reluctantly. “He’s right. The heater doesn’t work. And you definitely can get to the farm faster in that.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the SUV.

  “I’ll see you at home then.” She shrugged free of the other man and faced Jordan squarely. “Thank you for helping.”

  “Not much help. You did all the work.”

  The rain was letting up. Through the mist, green eyes looked up at him with something he couldn’t identify but wished he could.

  He watched as Andy Crowell opened the passenger door of his fancy car, loaded Shelby inside and, seconds later, whirled away with a spinning of tires.

  Does everyone who lives in this area feel they have to make a grand entrance and exit by tearing up grass?

  The emergency vehicles were leaving. Only a couple of police cars remained, to investigate the accident. Jordan drew a deep breath and headed toward the road and his decrepit truck. Playing the part of a down-on-his-luck farm hand wasn’t always easy.

  ****

  Back at the farm, he saw Andy Crowell’s car parked beside the house, while down by the barn the horse trailer was backed up to the door. He drove to his cabin and stopped. The storm had blown away as quickly as it had arrived. As he climbed out of his truck, the low sun came out and he saw a double rainbow forming out over the bay. It was going to be a beautiful evening. He shivered.

  Better get out of these wet clothes. Then it’s back to work as her farm hand.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Later, when he stepped out of the cabin in dry clothes, he saw Andy Crowell’s car was gone. Twilight was descending. A peaceful twilight after a day that had been turbulent in more ways than one.

  Better get down to the barn and finish up. Man, I’m bushed. Wonder how Shelby is feeling?

  Inside, lights had been turned on, and he saw Travis busy mucking out stalls. He grabbed a fork and went to join him.

  “Want me to feed or clean?” he asked.

  “Neither.” He paused and looked at him. “What I’d really like you to do is convince her to go up to the house and get some rest. She’s done all she can for that mare.” He jerked his head toward a stall near the end of the barn.

  “Okay.” He leaned his fork back against the wall and followed Travis’s directions.

  Inside the box stall he found Shelby, in a full-body coverall, standing beside the blanketed mare, gently massaging her neck and talking softly to her. The blue dress she’d worn to the wedding hung over the stall door wet and, in Jordan’s opinion, ruined.

  At his entrance, the animal snorted but under Shelby’s calm voice settled back to quietness.

>   “ ’Evening, ma’am.” He spoke softly and smiled at her. “You appear to have done one fine job here.”

  “I hope so.” She sighed and came to join him. “Her wounds are mostly superficial, her leg only bruised. I’ve iced it, and that should be all that’s required along with rest and quiet. Thanks again, Jordan. I really appreciated your help.”

  “I didn’t do much. Unskilled labor.” Green eyes were looking up at him with such sincere gratitude it started an ache in his chest.

  “Moral support is often best.” She dropped her gaze and returned to the mare.

  Good. The moment had all the potential of getting out of hand.

  Her cell rang and she fished it from a pocket in her coveralls.

  “Dr. Shelby Masters.” He saw weariness in her face and hoped it wasn’t another emergency call.

  “Mr. Wells, yes, we have your mare here at the farm. Yes, she’s recovering nicely. How is Mr. Branch? Doing well? Wonderful. Yes, we can keep Grey Lady here for as long as you wish. Yes, I’ll send you a statement of account. Thank you, but I was happy to have been of service.”

  She punched End and drew a deep breath.

  “I take it that was a thank-you call from the famous Kirby Wells.”

  “You guessed right.” She knelt to examine the mare’s bruised right front leg. “It’s a shame Mr. Branch had to have that accident when he was bringing the mare here. Kirby Wells wants me to keep Grey Lady here until she recovers, then breed her with Black. He also mentioned that he might let her stay here until the foal is born, since his daughter currently has a second horse and he wants this one to have constant veterinary care during her pregnancy. He said he’s prepared to pay for the best.”

  “Well, that’s great, isn’t it? More business, and from a well-paying client. If this keeps up, you won’t need me and my pain-in-the-butt contract. You’ll be sending me packing.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew exactly how they sounded. Needy. Hell, downright needy.

  “Jordan, I signed a contract, and I don’t go back on my word. No matter how many good deals come my way in the next few weeks, I intend to fulfill my obligation to you.”

  “Good. Well, then, good.” He leaned against the stall door and concentrated on his boots. “Dress pretty much ruined, I guess.” He turned the conversation as he indicated the rumpled garment slung over the boards.

  “Pretty much.” She stood and walked around the mare, stroking her gently. “I changed into working clothes down here after Andy brought me home. Didn’t bother to hang it up. Not a major concern. I seldom have reason to wear anything like that.”

  “You looked great in it, though,” he had to tell her, even though other thoughts were plaguing his brain. Had Crowell helped her change? Had they had a moment…?

  “Thanks. Once in a while every woman has to honor her feminine side, no matter what her job.”

  “In my books, you honor it every day. Shelby, I…” He took a step toward her, but she held up a hand.

  “No, Jordan, don’t go there. We’ve established the parameters of our relationship. We’re not going back over them.”

  “Okay, fine, if that’s what you want.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Is there anything I can do for you as your farm hand? Or would you prefer I make myself scarce?”

  “There’s nothing you can do for me…as my farm hand.”

  “Well, then, fine. I’ll head up to the cabin and tuck myself in. See you in the morning, boss.”

  He turned and went into a night musty with farm smells after the rain. The air hung still and heavy. The storm may have passed, but its aftermath hadn’t.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You haven’t given him a chance.” Jordan startled her with his sudden vehemence when he confronted her in the kitchen the following afternoon. “He’s good, really good. With a band and sound system like mine…”

  “I don’t need to listen to anything digitally altered so that a squealing hog could sound good. I don’t need to know…”

  “To know that if you’d had the proper backup in the form of a state-of-the-art jumper a dozen years ago you’d probably have made the National Equestrian Team? Can’t you see, I’m offering him an opportunity…with a state-of-the-art band.”

  “And you’ll no doubt stack the deck by having your Annie tell him how great he is!” Heat rose up her body.

  “No, that won’t be the case. I’m having an independent agent make an assessment of Travis’s work. I want to be sure, too. Do you think I want him hurt? Hell, he’s like a brother to me.”

  “Really?” She looked him squarely in the eye.

  “Yeah, really.” He held his ground. “Look, Shelby, you two are special to me, always will be, no matter what becomes of us…by that I mean you and me. I’d really like to do something special for you both, and right now Travis is the one up at the plate. Yesterday, on the beach with that injured horse, you were amazing. I admired your courage and respected your professionalism like I’ve done with very few people. I think those same characteristics will enable you to look at this situation objectively and make the right decision without allowing emotionalism to color it.”

  “I don’t know…” She dropped her gaze to her feet and rubbed her hands along the counter behind her. “I want the very best for Travis. He’s all I’ve got in the way of family. I don’t want him to grow old harboring regrets that I could have prevented.” She looked up and met the sincerity in those killer blue eyes. “Okay. Do your damnedest, Jordan Brooks. Give my brother the best shot he can get.”

  ****

  A week later, Shelby found herself seated in a shadowy balcony of a Moncton church where the acoustics were, according to Jordan, the best he’d found in the area. On the dais at the front, he and his band had assembled their equipment. She recognized the back of Ann Wise’s blonde head in the third row of seats. Beside the woman was a beefy-shouldered man wearing a grey suit jacket and a Stetson. Shelby guessed this was Jordan’s independent judge.

  “Good evening, folks.” Jordan Brooks, affable grin in place, stepped to the mike as if he were addressing a full house. “Tonight we have a new member of our group. He’ll be singing backup and playing lead guitar on this first piece. Please welcome Travis Masters.”

  Travis gave a quick nod of acknowledgement to the small audience, then turned his attention to his guitar.

  Oh, please, please, Travis, don’t get shy now!

  The moment her brother ran his fingers over the strings, her fears shattered. Backed up by a professional group, caught up in the thrall of it, her brother turned into a performer as smooth as the man beside him. And when he began to sing, his voice blended perfectly with Jordan’s—two perfect, sexy (Shelby had to admit), audience pleasers.

  When they finished, Jordan was grinning broadly. “Now let’s give the boy a chance to show what he can do on his own. It’s all yours, Travis.”

  He stepped back and Travis, looking relaxed and comfortable after the first song, came into full performer mode.

  “I’m going to sing a song that’s my sister’s favorite,” he said. “She named her horse after the girl in the title.”

  Tears stung Shelby’s eyes as he launched into the song, the words and music coming straight from his heart. When he’d finished, Shelby stopped her hands in midair. She couldn’t applaud. Her presence in the church was a secret from Travis.

  “Okay, boy, that was nice, but now I want you to rock the house.” The man in the Stetson spoke. His voice was gruff and tough.

  Not an easy audience to please. If Travis can convince him, then maybe… Shelby held her breath.

  “Sure.” With the confidence gained from the previous songs, Travis swung back to the other man. “Let’s go, Jordan. One, two, three…”

  Obviously prepared for the request, the group broke into a rollicking tune bound to get an audience clapping their hands and tapping their feet. Travis sang lead, Jordan backup. Even at the distance she was from th
e stage, Shelby could see the pride in the older singer’s face as he let her brother take over.

  As the last notes were echoing up into the rafters of the church, Ann Wise turned to the big man beside her.

  “Well?” Shelby heard the agent’s question and held her breath.

  “Come on.” The man stood and jerked his head toward the back of the church as the band began to dismantle equipment, Travis and Jordan assisting. “We’ll talk outside.”

  As the pair stopped on the church steps, leaving the double doors open, Shelby eased down the stairs to a vantage point where she could both see them and overhear their conversation. “Well?” Ann Wise repeated, turning to the big man.

  “He’s good, damn good, Annie.” Shelby saw her companion heft his shoulders and roll them. Tired, weary. Don’t let that influence what he thinks of Travis, please. “Just didn’t want to say it inside, in case he’d overhear, get a swelled head, and start demanding too much in a contract. He fits hand-in-glove with that group. You sign him, or I will. That shy grin is pure gold…will have all the little gals screamin’ for more. Now I got to be goin’. Have to find some talent I can sign.”

  “Thanks, Bordon.” Ann Wise held out a hand. “I owe you one.”

  “Damn right you do, missy. Next time I need backup on a talent decision, I expect you to be johnny-on-the-spot.”

  Shelby flattened herself against the wall as the pair separated. Ann Wise came back into the church, while the man she’d called Bordon headed toward a sports car parked at the curb. She knew what she had to do.

  ****

  “Well?” Jordan, in baggy shorts and T-shirt, bare feet in scuffed running shoes, slid into the booth on the bench opposite Shelby in the fast-food facility on Moncton’s Mountain Road. His eyes asked the question more than the word.

  “What can I say?” She looked up from the cup of coffee she’d been nursing while she waited for him. “He was great.”

  “So you’re willing to give him a chance with my band when I go back with them?” She saw the hopeful expectation in his expression. He sincerely wanted to give Travis an opportunity, the possibility to fulfill his dream. “I’ll take really good care of him…just like Joe and I do the other boys. No drinking, no drugs, just hard work and,” he hesitated, then continued, “good money.”