Cowboy Crazy

by Joanne Kennedy

  He was making his calls from the ranch house kitchen when Trevor wheeled into the room.

  “July fourteenth,” Lane was saying. “I can make that.”

  Trevor waited until he’d hung up, then shot him a questioning glance. “Thought you were hangin’ up your spurs.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “That got anything to do with the redhead out there in the barn?”

  Lane had left Sarah sitting on the bench by the barn door, working leather conditioner into a saddle that had dried out in the summer heat. She’d nodded when he’d said he had work to do. Just nodded and let him go.

  He was going to have to learn that move.

  “Heard she’s going back to work for your brother.”

  “Yup.” Lane tried not to sound resentful. “She’s pretty excited about it.”

  “Really?” Trevor shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think she’d rather work here.”

  “I thought so too, but she had a choice and she made it.”

  “Not much of a choice when you can’t get yourself on the back of a horse.”

  Lane turned, narrowing his eyes at Trevor. “What do you mean? You were the one who told me what a great rider she was.”

  “Was is the operative word, though. Girl can’t talk herself into the saddle. I saw her the other day trying to get on Ollie. She must have tried half a dozen times. Then she came in with some lame excuse why she couldn’t lope him out. Haven’t seen her try again.”

  Lane stared at him, then glanced out the window where Sarah was bent over the saddle. He’d tried twice to get her to go riding. Both times she’d made an excuse.

  “I don’t know what happened, but she can’t bring herself to do it. Looks scared to me,” Trevor said.

  “Sarah’s not scared of anything,” Lane said. “She’s sure as hell not scared of horses.”

  “No, I don’t think it’s horses.” Trevor spun his chair and motored out of the room. “It’s something in her own head.” He turned back to Lane. “Remember when you took me home from the hospital?”

  Lane nodded. It had been an ordeal, getting Trevor into the van, getting him comfortable. He’d been tense one moment, a dead weight the next. It had been damn near impossible.

  “Getting in that truck was the hardest thing I ever did, but it wasn’t my legs that were the problem,” Trevor said. “It was my head. I thought I was going to die every minute.”

  Lane remembered that ride. Trevor had gone so pale he’d almost turned around and taken him back to the hospital. He’d been sure the guy wasn’t ready to cope with real life, but his friend had been fine once they’d pulled into the driveway.

  “When I was getting in the truck, I kept seeing the accident. I hadn’t remembered it up to then. But the minute you and that nurse or whatever shoved me in the seat, it was all I could see.” Trevor paused. “That’s how Sarah looked when she tried to get on that horse. I could feel it, just watching her.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Girl didn’t know I was looking.” Trevor spun away again. “And I figured she’d find her own way to tell you. Some things just ought to be private, but she needs help. Don’t tell her I told on her, okay?”

  Lane stood at the window a minute, watching Sarah. Then he took off through the front door at a run.

  Chapter 41

  Sarah looked up as Lane jogged past her. He was headed into the barn, probably to do something with the horses. She bent closer to the seat of the saddle she was working on, pretending to be absorbed in the task. A lot of Lane’s tack needed work. He probably couldn’t sit still long enough to take care of it, and it had to be hard for Trevor to handle the saddles.

  The ranch really did need help. Over the past few days, she’d seen Trevor’s limitations and realized that while he knew everything there was to know about quarter horses and cattle, he would forever be trapped in a supervisory role. His upper body strength could only go so far in outweighing his disability.

  But she obviously had her own disabilities. And it was better for Lane to just think she’d chosen to work for his brother. Someday, he’d figure out she couldn’t ride. It was inevitable. But it was also inevitable that on that day, they’d start to grow apart. Horses and ranch work were Lane’s life. He needed a woman who could work by his side, on horseback and off.

  She returned her focus to the saddle, living in the moment, forgetting the past and future as she rubbed oil into the intricate flower designs of a 2008 World Champion Bull Rider prize saddle. Maybe she’d make the tack room her pet project until she started her new job, just lose herself in the quiet work and the warmth of the sun on her skin.

  She was definitely absorbed in her work when hoofbeats hit the floor behind her. She turned to see Lane standing at the barn door between two horses. On one side he held a big gray, the gelding she’d tried to mount the other day. In the other hand he held a big red stallion groomed like he was entering a halter class. His coat gleamed like polished copper.

  Both horses were fully tacked up and ready to ride.

  “What—”

  “We’re going for a ride,” Lane said. “Ready?”

  “No.” She shook the saddle in her lap. “I’m kind of busy. You let this stuff dry out much more, it’ll start to crack.”

  “I don’t care about the saddle,” he said. “Come on.”

  “Lane, this is your championship saddle. It shouldn’t even be out here.”

  “We can argue about that later. I’ll look forward to it.” He held out the stallion’s reins. “Come on.”

  “Lane, I’m… no.”

  “Just walk him then.”

  She expected him to mount the gray but he walked a little ahead of her, leading her down a dirt two-track that led away from the barn and angled up a slight hill. The grass was dappled with wildflowers on the south-facing slope, and she wished for a moment that she was riding. But even the thought brought back a mental glimpse of hooves pawing the air, a rolling eye, a horse’s mouth drawn back in a terrified grimace. She stopped a moment to recover, but Lane missed the sound of hoofbeats behind him and turned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She drew in a long breath, blew it out again. “I need to sit down.”

  “Can you make it to that rock up there?” He pointed toward a long, low boulder.

  “Sure. Okay.”

  Her mind roiled while she trudged up the hill behind him, reluctant as a convict en route to the gallows. It was stupid to think she’d be able to hide her fear from Lane. He was bound to figure it out eventually, unless she left him—and that just wasn’t something she could do. Not now, not ever. She’d told him the truth in the hospital—this wasn’t just about sex. He was the one for her, the only one. And that meant she had to share everything, including her fears.

  She’d been thinking about giving up on Lane, letting him go. But she never gave up anything without a fight. If she couldn’t ride, she was going to have to tell him why.

  “You know, this would be a lot easier if you’d ride instead of walking,” he said.

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “Sure you can. You rode Flash, for God’s sake.”

  “Not when it mattered.” She sat back down so abruptly she almost bruised her tailbone.

  “Tell me about it.”

  He sat beside her and the whole story spilled out. The quiet night, the locked trailer, the surreptitious saddling of the horse. His sudden change from docile mount to kicking, screaming chaos. The feeling of total defeat as she led him back to the trailer, back to his unknown fate, back to the road that would take him away from her.

  “I couldn’t do it.” Somehow, in the telling of the story, she’d ended up with her head on Lane’s shoulder. His shirt was wet with tears and getting wetter, but he didn’t seem to mind. His arm circled her protectively and she felt her secrets spilling with her tears. “I couldn’t do it, and I knew they’d take him and it would be over. An
d then when he sold so cheap, I knew I should have tried again and it was too late. I failed, Lane. My family lost everything, and all because I was scared.”

  He pulled her face to his shoulder and rocked her back and forth, to and fro, the motion soothing as a cradle. “You weren’t scared, honey. You were traumatized. You saw your dad die. You can’t just shake that off.”

  “But I had to. And I should have. Soldiers do it.” She was spilling words faster and faster. “They see people die and they still do what they have to do.”

  “You weren’t a soldier. You were a kid.”

  “But I gave up. I gave up and I let it happen.”

  “And now you’re giving up again.”

  She jerked away from him. “What?”

  “Do you really think you’ll be happy as long as you can’t ride? Do you really think you can hang out here and see the one thing in the world you can’t do and not grow to hate it? What happened wasn’t your fault, but you’re not a kid anymore. You can’t give up now.”

  She sniffled and hunched her shoulders, feeling almost as miserable as she’d felt the day they’d taken Flash. “I did try. I can’t do it.”

  “Yes you can.” His eyes met her, challenging and unwavering. “You can get on that horse and ride away from your past, leave it behind you forever. Or you can stay on the ground and keep wallowing around in it. Your choice.”

  She hunched lower, reminding herself that she loved this man. And he loved her. He was doing what he thought was best. He didn’t realize he was killing her.

  “You weren’t scared of anything when you rode Flash.”

  “I’m not that girl anymore.”

  “No, maybe not. Maybe you don’t want to be.” He knelt beside her. “Fear is a choice, Sarah. I’m scared every time I get on a bull. But I get on anyway.”

  “Yeah, but you’re an idiot.”

  “I’m a rodeo cowboy.”

  “Same difference.” She sniffed, then took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll try.” She stood and reached for the reins in his hand. “Give me Ollie.”

  “You’re riding this one.”

  “Lane, I can’t do that. He looks just like…”

  “There’s an old saying in rodeo: ‘When you get thrown off the bucking bronco, you got to get back on the bronc that throwed you.’”

  “And in business we have a definition of what crazy is: Doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result.”

  They stood inches apart, their eyes meeting in a challenge just as they had on that first day. He lifted his chin and gave her just the faintest hint of a smug smile and she snatched the reins from his hand.

  She led Cinn a few feet away and gathered the reins in her hand. She waited for the inevitable flashback to begin but the horse just stared back at her, his eyes soft. She felt his spirit in her mind, the calm, untangled sense she’d had at their first encounter.

  “Go on,” Lane said. “He’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  She bunched the reins in her hand and walked around to the side of the horse. Tipping the stirrup toward her, she pushed her toe in and felt a surge of panic. She closed her eyes.

  “Open your eyes,” Lane said. “Open them and look at me.”

  She opened her eyes and he was there, at the horse’s shoulder, his eyes meeting hers. Now she could feel him too, the strength of him, and love hit her like a wave. It lifted her heart, sweeping it up, swinging it sideways, and settling it into the saddle like a leaf washing up on the shore. She was still watching his face when she realized she’d done it.

  She was on horseback.

  She looked straight ahead and saw the horse’s muscled neck, his dark, coarse mane, the tufted ears pointed forward, and suddenly she was awash in memories—but they were good memories. She could hear the rodeo announcer, the murmur of the crowd. For a moment she and the horse hung suspended out of time, hovering in the hot summer air like a hummingbird in the second before it darts for a flower.

  She gazed down the trail and thought go.

  Cinn went, his muscles bunching and loosening in a rocking, casual walk. The rhythm was so comforting and familiar she couldn’t resist rocking forward in the saddle and giving him a nudge, just the barest nudge. And then he was jogging, arching his head and flashing his feet out like a parade horse, and she had to laugh and give him another touch of her heels.

  Lane had been right. It was like riding a bicycle. She was a little unsteady at first, but she was finding her balance as muscle memory kicked in.

  And sitting high in the saddle, she felt in control for the first time in years. She hadn’t realized how much of her life she’d handed over to the Carrigan Corporation and the other companies she’d worked for. There was something to be said for the Western life after all.

  Turning, she loped back to Lane and sat back on her seatbones the way Roy had taught her. Cinn slid to a halt on the dry dirt trail, his hind legs gathered beneath him, his front feet kicking up dirt. Lane grinned while Ollie blinked in the puff of dust they’d raised.

  “Well, I suppose you’re ready to ride off into the sunset now,” he said teasingly.

  “Nope.” She tightened one rein and the stallion danced in a tight circle, impatient to be off. She turned and grinned at Lane, feeling happier than she’d felt since she was a kid.

  “I was thinking we ought to ride to the Love Nest. Come on, Lane. Race me.”

  Epilogue

  The red ribbon fluttered from Sarah’s hands as she made her fourteenth effort at tying it to a tilting fence post. There was a pretty stiff breeze blowing, promising a late-afternoon rainstorm, but it really wouldn’t be that hard to get the job done if Lane would quit trying to help her.

  “I’ve got it.” She shoved him sideways and grabbed the runaway end of the ribbon.

  “Do you need some help?” Sarah turned to see Emmy standing beside her, hands clasped shyly behind her back. But her shoulders weren’t slumped, and as Sarah stepped away, she took the ribbon and tied it into a quick, assured bow around the post.

  “They teach you that at UW?” Lane teased.

  “No. They’re teaching me what kind of formations you look for to find oil, and how to access it, and—oh.” She paused, mortified, and proved her newfound confidence hadn’t affected her ability to blush. “You don’t want to hear about that, do you? You’re against it.”

  “Not if it’s done right,” he said. “Just learn how to do it right, and then make sure it happens when you get your first job.” He grinned. “Maybe you could work for Carrigan. What do you think, Bro?”

  Eric had taken off his jacket and was carefully rolling his shirtsleeves to the elbow. “Probably. But she’ll be done with graduate school by the time you and I agree on anything.”

  “I hope so,” Lane said. “But at least I’ll have one engineer on my side.”

  Emmy nodded enthusiastically, then frowned. “I’m on Sarah’s side, though.”

  Lane rolled his eyes. “Everybody loves my wife.”

  Sarah punched his arm and he winced. “Me most of all.”

  Gloria, who was honoring the occasion with a magnificently inappropriate sequined red dress, gave Sarah a friendly nudge with her shoulder. “I told you the cowboy brother was the one for you.” She glanced over at Eric, who had flung his jacket over his shoulder with a GQ flourish. “Opposites attract.”

  Lane grinned and settled an arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “Sometimes opposites aren’t as different as they seem,” he said. “Sometimes, deep down, they belong together.”

  A crowd gathered gradually. First the poker gang arrived, decked out in their Sunday best. Sarah had never seen most of them in suit jackets before, let alone ties and shiny shoes. Joe was probably wearing his best clothes too, but that just meant there weren’t any holes in his jeans or swear words on his T-shirt.

  Kelsey and Mike picked their way across the uneven ground, Mike lugging Katie in his arms. She was almost too big to carry, and she started squi
rming the moment she saw Lane and Sarah. Mike set her down and she ran across the open field, dodging sagebrush with her arms outstretched. She slammed into Lane’s legs and looked up at Sarah, then at Lane, her smile as wide and sunny as the summer sky.

  “Hey, short stuff.” Lane rumpled her hair and the smile widened. Catching sight of Willie, she toddled off to watch as he dug furiously at an old prairie dog hole.

  Suze arrived late, but the crowd parted for her like the Red Sea as she made her way to the front where Lane and Sarah were standing by the fence post.

  “You all are determined to do this, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

  Sarah nodded. “It’s green construction, though. All local materials so it blends with the landscape, and most of the power will be wind and solar.”

  She scanned the crowd. Just about everybody in town had showed up, even Eddie, who stood at the back in his ever-present white cap and apron.

  “Suze, who’s manning the grill?” Lane asked.

  “Nobody.” Suze folded her arms over her ample chest and scowled. “Place is closed for the ceremony.”

  “Wow,” Lane said with a glint in his eye. “I don’t think the diner’s ever been closed before. If we’d known the ribbon-cutting was that important to you, we’d have done it after hours.”

  “It’s not important to me,” she grunted. “Eddie wanted to come, and when he gets a bug up his butt about something there’s no stopping him.”

  “Well, hopefully we’ll have a doctor who can deal with the bug issue,” Lane said.

  Suze snorted. “You gonna cut that ribbon or talk all day?”

  “Talk all day,” Sarah said. “You can’t have a ribbon-cutting without a speech.”

  “Shit,” Suze mumbled, backing into the crowd.

  Sarah scanned the crowd and caught sight of Trevor in the front row. He was no longer the rail-thin cowboy she’d met months ago. His shoulders had filled out and his biceps swelled from his shirt. Working at the ranch had done him more good than a year’s worth of physical therapy.