The Cowboy Who Broke the Mold

by Cathleen Galitz

  “I suppose you know that you’re both damned lucky that you didn’t end up spending the winter hibernating inside the belly of an old sow bear,” Dr. Keats informed her with a glance over the rim of a pair of old-fashioned spectacles.

  Carrie brushed off the comment as inconsequential. Worried that Judson may have suffered serious brain damage, she was in no mood for his Western bedside manner.

  “How is he?” she demanded.

  “Jud’s as tough as an old piece of leather and as grizzly as a grizzly himself.”

  Chuckling at his play on words, he wiped his glasses on his hospital smock and donned a more serious bear- ing. “It took a dozen stitches to close up that gash in the back of his head. He’s had his bell rung pretty hard, but in a week or so, I expect he’ll be back to his old, ornery self. Till then he’ll be sore, perhaps a little disoriented, and more’n likely mad as hell at being laid up.”

  Carrie’s body went limp with relief. She reached for the arm of a chair for support. “He’s going to be all right then? There’s no brain damage?”

  “Oh, he’ll have one humdinger of a headache that’ll plague him for a day or two, but if you can assure me that you’ll wake him up every hour tonight to check on him just to make sure that he doesn’t slip into uncon- sciousness, I’ll release him into your care immedi- ately.”

  Carrie squirmed uncomfortably in the silence that fol- lowed his prognosis. Didn’t the good doctor realize in what a difficult position he was placing her? Granted, Judson needed someone to look after him and the chil- dren while he was incapacitated, but tongues were cer- tain to wag if she were to temporarily move in with the chairman of school board, a man who just so happened to be the father of two of her pupils! Though the rest of the country might be progressively liberal, Carrie was well aware how decidedly conservative her little corner of it was. It didn’t take a genius to realize that such action could well constitute grounds for dismissal.

  As if reading her thoughts, Dr. Keats remarked, “It’s not exactly like he’s up for any hanky-panky.”

  Frantically Carrie searched her mind for someone— anyone—to step in and help. A lusty image of Estelle Hanway popped into her head. Despite her fury at the Harvest Ball, Carrie felt certain the beautiful woman would jump at the chance to play Judson’s nursemaid. The thought caused her heart to flip-flop wildly inside her chest.

  “I suppose I didn’t just spend the longest day of my life hauling the man off the mountain just to abandon him now,” she muttered into the doctor’s bemused eyes.

  If Carrie thought Judson was going to be happy at the prospect of having her at his beck and call, she was sorely disappointed. When she explained to him that she planned to be around to help out until he was back on his feet again, he bellowed in rage.

  “I can take care of myself for God’s sake! Been do- ing it since was I a kid.”

  Remembering the references to his alcoholic mother, Carrie assumed that his self-sufficiency stemmed from shouldering an adult’s responsibility far too early in life. Though she longed to reach out and touch him with gentle compassion, she didn’t dare. Such a proud man might easily mistake the gesture as a sign that she found him weak.

  “I’m just relaying the doctor’s orders,” she re- sponded with a smile that felt tight over her teeth. “With you out of commission for a while, somebody’s going to have to take care of the twins anyway. I doubt if it’ll be much more work looking after you, too, but if you insist, you’re welcome to stay in the hospital for just as long as you’d like.”

  Recognizing that same stubborn set to her jaw as when Carrie had told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t about to turn tail and go back to Chicago without putting up a fight, Judson knew arguing was useless— despite the fact that the whole situation was a powder keg just waiting to be lit.

  Considering Brandy’s disturbing behavior in the classroom lately, there was bound to be hell to pay when he brought Carrie home for a “sleep over.” Judson could only imagine how Cowboy would to react when he discovered that his father was as smitten with his pretty teacher as he, not to mention the fact that Judson himself was certain to be in a state of permanent arousal with this confounding, lovely creature catering to his every need. He could think of no better prescrip- tion for utter pandemonium.

  Unfortunately, Judson had little choice in the matter. For the first time in over two decades, he needed to rely on another human being for help. Considering that he had always thought she was the one who needed looking after, it galled him to think that Carrie Raben, of all people, would have to take care of him. This sudden role reversal hurt his pride something awful. Up until now he had seen himself as the strong one, whose job was to show this fresh greenhorn the fundamentals of surviving in the woolly West. How quickly enigmatic Ms. Raben had turned the tables on him. The fact that a big man like himself was suddenly reduced to help- lessness was humiliating, to say the least.

  Along with the pill the nurse handed him, Judson Horn swallowed his pride.

  Before leaving the hospital, Carrie placed a call to the children, who had been spending the day at the neighbors’. After explaining the situation to Mrs. Mil- ford, she asked if the family would mind feeding Cowboy and Brandy supper. That would give her time enough to get Judson to bed before the twins got home.

  A hot blush swept over her at the thought of tucking Judson in. For the millionth time she wondered how in the world she was ever going to manage this. Just being in this man’s presence was enough to set her on fire.

  Judson slept most of the way home, leaving Carrie to her own thoughts. Having passed by but never under the huge log archway that marked the entrance to the Blue Sky Lodge, she was unprepared for the size and grandeur of Judson’s ranch. Highlighted against a spec- tacular Wyoming sunset, his home was nestled in a grove of pine trees. As impressive as the land from which it was carved, the spacious stone building was an integral part of the surrounding countryside. The scene emoted an aura of peaceful tranquility that contrasted dramatically with the turmoil Carrie was feeling inside.

  Awakening her patient from his medicated sleep, she announced brightly, “Wake up! We’re here!”

  Carrie helped him from the vehicle, insisting that he lean on her for support. “Easy does it,” she murmured as they tottered up the flagstone walk. Easy does it… Easy does it… she repeated to her racing heart.

  Finding the front door locked, she looked at Judson askance.

  “Key’s in my pants’ pocket,” was his terse reply.

  Was she merely imagining the hoarse, gritty tone of his voice? Feeling the now-familiar heat radiating from the center of her body, she pushed aside any prim-and- proper ideas about how ladies were supposed to behave. After all, hadn’t the doctor assured her that his patient wasn’t up for any hanky-panky? Carrie plunged her hands into his two front pockets and fished out a ring laden with keys—but not before feeling the arousal of his manhood, large and obvious against her fingertips. Injured or not, this man wasn’t about to let her forget about his overt sexual appeal. Nervously she fumbled with several keys before finally coming up with the right one.

  Flipping on the porch light illuminated Judson’s weakened condition. His eyes were glazed over, his face was a ghastly hue, and a grimace curled his lips.

  Pain pierced Carrie’s heart with the accuracy of an arrow. Her concern for Judson’s well-being outweighed everything else. Community mores, her job, Brandy’s disapproval, her reputation—all meant nothing in light of the fact that Judson needed her.

  Carrie led him into the house and turned on a light. She was astounded at the immensity of the living room in which she stood. The central feature of the room was a fireplace built of the same stately gray stone as the house itself. The floor was polished wood with Arapaho rugs scattered throughout.

  “Bedroom’s up there.” Judson pointed.

  Even under such benign circumstances the words sent a flame racing along her nerve endings. The illicit thoug
hts she entertained as she studied the polished banistered staircase leading from the living room to the loft would surely make a nun blush. Admonishing her- self for her lack of self-control, Carrie wondered how Judson was ever going to manage that flight of stairs. She thought about simply making up the couch for him, but considering the possibility that he might wake up disoriented in the night, attempt to maneuver his way up the stairs alone and end up hurting himself, she quickly dismissed that idea. What if he somehow man- aged to make his way up to his room and stumbled upon her asleep in his bed? The very thought centered a quiver low in her stomach.

  Carrie was shaken from her dewy fantasy by the re- alization that she needed to get Judson to bed as quickly as possible. Although he had all his senses, he was groggy from the pain pills the doctor had prescribed.

  Tackling the stairs together as a team, Judson held on to the banister with one hand and his caretaker’s slender shoulders with the other. Aware that he was trying his best not to crush her beneath his weight, Car- rie knew how hard it was for such an independent man to rely upon anyone else—and her in particular, the out- sider whom he had openly denounced as being unfit to persevere upon his turf.

  Opening the door to Judson’s bedroom, Carrie felt her already racing heartbeat quicken. In the middle of the room sat a king-size brass bed. It was impossible not to imagine snuggling naked with Judson between warm sheets, serenaded by the sound of a roaring fire- place below. With difficulty, she donned a professional nurselike attitude, pretending that she wasn’t bothered in the least by what she had to do next.

  Turning back the covers, she helped him to the edge of the bed and announced coolly, “Let me help you out of your pants.”

  “Listen here.” Judson’s husky voice had the same effect upon the blood coursing through her veins as a pint of smooth whiskey. “I’m too old to be tucked in with just a kiss on the forehead. There’s only one reason I’ll let you take my pants off, and I think you know what it is.”

  Carrie’s heart careened against her chest as a wet heat spread through her. Her eyes were drawn to the worn fly of his jeans. What she saw there left little doubt that his concussion had not affected the other working parts of his body.

  Her hands were sweaty, her heart was hammering out a lusty song, and her body felt heavy and sweet with desire. She was sorely tempted to put that masculine boast to the test.

  How, she wondered miserably, was she ever going to survive her nursing internship with such a testosterone- driven hunk of a patient with either her heart or her reputation intact?

  Giving him her best I’m-in-charge-now look, she calmly informed her patient, “You just do as you’re told, and we’ll see about attending to your ‘other’ needs later.”

  The slow smile Judson gave her as he stretched his long body across the bed threatened to obliterate any sense of decency Carrie ever had.

  Since the logical place to start was with his boots, she grasped one worn boot firmly in both hands and pulled…and pulled…and pulled. Clearly this wasn’t go- ing to be easy. Placing the heel of the boot against her stomach, she gave another tug. When the boot came off in her hands, she was thrown off balance and fell back against the wall.

  Woozy as he was, Judson had never been so aroused in all of his life as he was by the sight of this sweet thing struggling to divest him of his boots. She was so adorable it made his mouth water with wanting her. Little did it matter that his head was pounding a rhythm akin to ancient war drums when the throbbing in the lower half of his body demanded his immediate atten- tion. Though his natural inclination was to dismiss his reaction as nothing more than a bad case of lust, deep in his heart Judson knew that it was far more than that.

  He wondered how he could possibly defend his heart against a woman capable of staring down a bear, an animal traditionally honored for its valor in Indian lore and legend. That this remarkable woman had been able to connect with sister bear on some metaphysical plane was as mystical as the bond that connected them. Judson knew only that he was no more able to break that bond by an act of simple willpower than he was able to stop himself from breathing.

  As she swept a stray lock from her eyes with the back of her hand, he was struck by the loveliness of that face, flushed with exertion. Her eyes were so wide and won- drous that he felt certain the mysteries of the entire uni- verse were contained within their depths. By the time his tousle-haired nymph had his second boot off, Judson was on the verge of exploding with desire.

  With fingers that felt thick and clumsy, Carrie began the process of unbuttoning his shirt. Her remonstrance to stop them from shaking was for naught. Judson took her trembling hands into his own and brought them to his lips. Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his and saw the passion glistening there. The raw need.

  Shirt hanging open to reveal his smooth, muscular chest, Judson pulled her hands down to cover his heart. It was a gesture so tender, so intimate, that its simple eloquence brought tears to her eyes.

  He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her atop him on the bed. Running his hands beneath her sweater, he captured the creamy swells of her breasts in the palms of his hands. Judson thrust aside any lingering doubts he had about the past. The sound of Carrie’s whimper centered his need directly on the present. This all-consuming desire was too much to fight, and the truth of the matter was that he didn’t want to fight it anymore. This wasn’t his fickle high-school sweetheart he was holding in his arms; it was Carrie, all sweetness and ripe womanhood, exploring his body with hungry need.

  This couldn’t be her boss, Carrie thought to herself as Judson tasted the sensitive hollow of her neck with his tongue. This was the man she loved. No past experience or job-related reasoning could alter the irrefutable fact that despite her best efforts to the contrary, she had fallen helplessly, hopelessly, in love with Judson Horn. To deny it was to deny fate itself.

  His mouth sought hers, and he traced her soft pliant lips with the tip of his tongue. Feeling the quickening thud of his heart against her palm, she submitted to what was surely her destiny. The deep ache inside her burst into an iridescent glow that radiated throughout every cell in her body, blotting out all reason. It felt so very right, and her need was so urgent, so overpowering. Shivering with desire too long suppressed, Carrie moaned a soft surrender.

  He continued to brush his lips over hers in a provoc- ative prelude that left her quivering in awe. Melting beneath the sweet exploration of his tongue, Carrie blindly responded. Her hands devoured the smooth plane of his chest. Hungry for more, she sought the broad expanse of his shoulders, slipping his shirt down his arms, ridding him of it entirely. She caressed the breadth of his back.

  It took a moment for her mind to register what those raised ridges of flesh beneath her fingertips actually were. Judson’s back was hideously scarred. “As tough as old leather,” the doctor had said. Apparently some- one had treated Judson Horn as little more than just that.

  Her eyes filled with tears as she broke away from his kisses. “Who did this to you?” she demanded in a hoarse whisper.

  The answer to that question came from behind her.

  “Somebody just like you….”

  Chapter Ten

  Like an adolescent caught necking by a local police officer, Carrie jumped off the bed. Red-faced, she wheeled around to face Brandy, who was standing in the doorway with her arms akimbo and her eyes ablaze.

  “Why would you say that? I would never do any- thing to hurt your father. I—I love him!” she stam- mered in self-defense.

  At this heartfelt proclamation, Brandy’s eyes nar- rowed to slits. “It was love of a white woman that al- most got him killed before!”

  With that, the girl slammed the door and faced down the hallway to her room. Torn between her desire to stay with Judson and to chase after his distraught daugh- ter, Carrie was relieved when the matter was settled with a gentle entreaty.

  “Let her be for the time being. You and I need to talk.”

  Lo
oking into eyes of shimmering green was to peer into Carrie’s very soul, Judson realized. This beautiful woman was far too guileless to hide her emotions be- hind the kinds of barriers that he had so skillfully erected around his own heart. It was impossible for Car- rie to willfully hurt anyone she loved. And if he could believe his own ears, he had just heard her admit to loving him.

  It was a miracle. Something too good to be true.

  Fearing that she would dismiss his apprehension about the consequences of racially blended relationships as trifling, Judson wanted her to understand the mag- nitude of his concern. It was imperative if they were to ever commit to a future together.

  But how could he dredge up a past so willfully sup- pressed for so long? Holding out his hand, Judson pulled Carrie down beside him on the bed. At last the time had come to open the pages of a book too long sealed shut.

  Longing to ease his pain, Carrie offered Judson the solace of her body. Remembering Estelle Hanway’s words about the brothers who hadn’t taken kindly to their sister’s involvement with a half-breed, she ran her hands along the width of that scarred back and mas- saged his knotted flesh.

  The scars you can see ain’t nothing compared to those you can’t.

  At the time those words seemed cryptic; Carrie had thought them spoken in a state of drunken confusion. Suddenly they made perfect sense.

  “I told you that my mother was an alcoholic,” he began quietly. “I didn’t tell you how very much like you she was—beautiful, kind and gentle.”

  Judson paused to study Carrie’s face between his hands, her features more precious than the most exqui- site jewels.

  “When she told the man she loved she was pregnant, he refused to accept the child as his own. Unwilling to admit siring a bastard breed, Mr. High-and-Mighty Ar- thur Christianson turned his back on us both and pre- tended we simply didn’t exist.