by Jodi Thomas
Miguel just shook his head as a grinning Henry sprinted toward the barn. “Nitro’s a stallion we haven’t been able to ride,” he told Josh. “We keep him for breeding, but he’s a wild one under saddle.”
Tess smirked. “Even my daddy couldn’t sit Nitro for long, and there’s more than one cowboy who owes this horse a broken bone or two. Nitro likes to be creative and see how far and how high he can toss anything that climbs on his back. Want to back out?”
Now he looked a little concerned. “Which one of us is going to ride him?”
“We both are. We’ll take turns and see who stays on longest. I’ll cut you a break and go first. Maybe he’ll be tired by the time you get on him.”
Luis chuckled. “Or angry.”
Tess just chuckled. She was about to get revenge for a cold night spent in a chair, and if she got some bumps and bruises in the process, seeing this fellow flat in the dust would be worth the price.
Nitro came out of the barn snorting steam into the early morning air. He was a horse who enjoyed a good romp—a romp in his mind being a chance to break someone’s bones and then stomp him into the dirt.
They snubbed the stallion to a post to get the saddle onto his back, but he stood in docile patience. Nitro knew the drill, and he looked forward to wreaking a little havoc.
“I’ll go first,” Tess said cheerfully. “Miguel, ear him down while I get on.”
When Miguel let go of Nitro’s ear, the horse exploded. Tess knew she couldn’t stick for long, but she figured her performance would be better than anyone else attempting to ride the demon. He bucked, twisted, sunfished, and did everything but turn himself inside out to send her flying. When he connected with the earth, the stiff-legged jolt nearly snapped Tess’s spine, or so it felt.
As always, Nitro won. Tess connected hard and painfully with the ground, then scrambled out of the way while Rojo ducked into the corral to keep the horse occupied.
“Ten seconds,” Miguel said, checking his pocket watch. “Not bad, Miss Tess.”
She grinned at what’s-his-name. “I tired him out for you.”
Nitro did not appear to be tired, though. When Josh climbed aboard, the bronc took off like a bad-tempered tornado that had just happened to touch down in the McCabe corral.
“Fifteen seconds,” Miguel noted approvingly when the intrepid rider bit dirt. “Damned good.”
“What? Fifteen seconds?”
“Sí.”
Tess’s jaw tightened. “We’ll see about that!”
As Tess got ready to mount again, her grinning adversary spit out a mouthful of dirt and taunted, “I tired him out for you, sweetheart.”
Tess was too busy to retort.
And so the morning went. None of the three parties involved—the man, the woman, or the horse—came close to giving in. Foam flecked Nitro’s damp hide. Tess wore dirt and sweat head to toe. Her stubborn husband looked little better. Finally, when Tess went flying for the fifth time, her adversary looked at her, looked at Nitro, and shook his head.
“The horse has had enough,” he said.
Instantly, Tess’s back—what small part of it wasn’t bruised, battered, and scraped—went up, but before she could reply, Miguel butted in.
“He’s right. Nitro will keep going until he falls over.”
Sitting in the dirt, every inch of her aching, Tess still wanted to object. She hadn’t yet won. But she looked at Nitro and knew that Miguel was right. Nitro was blowing hard, too tired even to come after her for a few good stomps.
And oh, all right, her uppity husband was right, too. She sighed.
“Okay. Luis, walk him out, would you? And make sure he’s good and cool before you put him away.”
“It’s a draw,” Miguel announced, looking relieved.
Tess had to admire a man who could stick a horse like this fellow could. He hadn’t learned to ride like that with his head stuck in a whiskey bottle. Josh Ransom. This time she would remember his name.
“If I had a week,” Josh boasted, “I could be up on that horse without him batting an eyelash.”
“You have a week,” Tess growled.
“I don’t think so.”
“You do if you want your money.” She fixed him with a challenging glare. “Another hundred dollars if you can break Nitro to saddle and rider.”
He looked thoughtful.
She hated to part with any more money, but Nitro was worth it. So was convincing Sean that she was good and married. “That’s a lot of money, Ransom.”
She could see the calculation in his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”
He limped over and offered her a hand up. She thought about slapping his hand away, but then her real problem rode around the corner of the barn, and she grabbed Josh’s hand and forced a smile. “Thank you.”
“Well, now,” Sean said as Josh pulled her to her feet. “Isn’t that sweet. What’ve you two been doing? Wrestling in the mud?”
Josh turned to give Sean a dark look, and at the same time he slipped his arm around Tess’s shoulders.
“They were working,” Miguel told him. “Work. Ever heard of it?”
“Excuse us,” Josh said. “Rosie’s got a good dinner on the stove, and we need to get cleaned up. Join us if you want, Sean.”
Tess tried to object, but acquiesced to Josh’s subtle pressure on her shoulder as he guided her toward the house. Then, on the porch, he did the unthinkable. In full view of everyone, he kissed her. Not a civilized peck, but a cheek-sucking, air-stealing lip lock that sent a bolt of surprise from her nose to her toes. Surprise, and a shivery, strength-stealing strangeness that threatened to turn her knees to water. Dadgummed but she got so flustered that she almost forgot that Sean stood there staring at them. Sean and everyone else.
Of course that was the reason behind the kiss. Josh staged the passion, the enveloping arms, the warm, delicious closeness all for the benefit of her weaselly brother. He put on a show, and what a show it was. She’d have to thank him later, Tess mused dizzily, when she got her brain back in order.
A perverse part of her almost hoped that Sean stayed awhile.
UNFORTUNATELY, Sean did stay awhile. He moved into the bunkhouse with the declaration that he missed the “old days” and wanted to get reacquainted with the ranch—a load of horseshit as far as Tess was concerned.
Josh Ransom also stayed. Leaving would have been hard, Tess figured, after he’d boasted that he could gentle Nitro in a week. When the man said he would do something, Tess discovered, he followed through on his word, something she admired in a man. He wasn’t quite the bum she had first thought.
She and her new roommate reached a compromise in sleeping arrangements. For newlyweds to sleep anywhere but in the same room would make Sean’s ears prick up for sure, but Tess didn’t intend to spend more than one night in that chair. She settled for guarding her virtue with a rolled-up quilt placed between them on the bed. The arrangement didn’t leave either of them much room, but then, how much room did a body need just for sleeping? Tess wasn’t about to crawl unguarded into a bed with any man, especially a man she had dragged out of a saloon.
Not that she had much worry that Ransom would get fresh. He looked like a man who could have a host of females fawning over him if he wanted—all of them with silky hair, rosy lips, plump breasts, and soft skin. What would he want with a whipcord-lean, sun-browned female who wore trail dust instead of perfume? Not that Tess cared. Why would she?
Yet a strange, tingly feeling crept through her at night as she lay tense and sleepless on her half of the mattress, listening to her husband’s breathing, feeling the male body heat that somehow managed to seep through the barrier between them. She would certainly be glad when she was rid of the man. Glad, glad, glad. No more worrying about keeping him out of her business. No more sharing a room and a bed. No more looking at his face over the table at meals, hearing him swap tales with the men, worrying about the hands starting to like him too much. No more getting distracted b
y the way he sat a horse, the way his hair turned to spun silver in the sunlight, or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. No more worrying about when and if he might try to kiss her again.
Ah yes. There had been that kiss. . . .
During the waking hours, Sean watched them like an eagle, forcing Tess to play the role of a lovesick bride, or at least a halfway interested bride. Her groom took delight in making her uncomfortable. Tess just knew the man enjoyed himself hugely whenever he put an arm around her shoulders or gave her a peck on the cheek, just because the skunk liked to see her squirm—his bit of revenge for her making him stick around.
By the time Saturday rolled around, Tess’s nerves were wearing thin, and so was Josh’s patience. Tess sat in the barn tack room cleaning her saddle when Josh walked in, his boots thudding heavily on the packed dirt floor, his face looking like he had just eaten nails.
“Do you know what day it is?” he demanded.
“Yup.” Here it came again. Every day he strained harder at the leash. Soon that tether was plumb going to break.
“Just how long until—”
“Well, howdy, you two.” Sean strolled up with his gotcha smile. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
Josh regarded him narrowly, then his face brightened. “Tess and I were just about to ride out and look for that buckskin mustang who tried to run off some of the mares. Weren’t we, sweetheart?”
“Uh . . . sure.” Sweetheart. Sheesh! “We were.” They hadn’t planned any such thing, but Josh was matching Sean gotcha grin for gotcha grin, so she played along to see what he was up to.
“Want to come?” Josh asked Sean.
“Well, I—”
“You did say you were lonesome for the old days,” Josh said amiably.
“Yes, Sean. You did.” Tess tried to ignore Josh’s hand, which rested with apparent affection on the back of her neck. Queer how a warm hand could send such tingly shivers down a person’s spine.
“It would help,” Josh said innocently, “to have an extra man along.”
The hand kneaded gently. Tess didn’t know whether to grit her teeth or melt into a little puddle.
Sean gave them a sour look, then surrendered sullenly. “I guess I could use the exercise.”
When Josh led out Amigo for Sean to ride, Tess began to understand. Amigo, a rangy gray with huge hooves, had the most bone-jarring gait of any horse that lived at the Diamond T. Josh knew it well, because just two days before, Tess had put him on Amigo when he insisted she give him a tour of the ranch. After two hours in the saddle, he had sat gingerly the rest of the day.
They set off at a good pace, assuring that Sean endured the greatest possible pain. Rojo trotted along with them, dashing off now and again to flush a rabbit or investigate a scent trail, then returning to play a game he and Josh had invented, where the dog grabbed a stick, leapt into the air high enough for Josh to grab it from his mouth, then ran full speed to retrieve the treasure when Josh threw it.
“You’re going to wear him out so he won’t be any use to us,” Tess complained.
“He’s got energy to spare,” Josh assured her.
In truth, Tess’s complaint came from a twinge of jealousy. Rojo only tolerated most people other than Tess. Tess he adored. His taking up with Josh was a betrayal. She wouldn’t have wanted the dog to threaten Josh, of course. But a little standoffishness would have been nice.
“This horse feels like a broken rocking chair,” Sean complained before thirty minutes had passed.
“You’ve gotten soft,” Tess told him from her comfortable perch on Ranger, who floated over the rough ground. “Didn’t your ambitions for the Diamond T include doing any work here?”
“Didn’t you even read the letter I sent you after our father died?” Sean asked through jarring teeth.
“I read it, and I couldn’t believe you wanted me to sell the ranch and divvy up the money.”
“At least you wouldn’t have had to get married.” Sean gave Josh a cynical look. Ransom just smiled.
“Had to get married? Ha! I wanted to get married,” Tess lied. “The man just swept me off my feet.”
“Who do you think you’re fooling?” Sean scoffed.
Josh took offense. “Why do you have such trouble believing your sister is happily married?”
“I think a man with any sense would rather be staked out on an anthill than marry my sister. And you seem like a man with sense.”
The look on Ransom’s face took Tess by surprise, and it made Sean back into a lame apology. “Uh . . . that came out wrong. Tess is a great girl. After all, she is my sister. But you’ve got to admit that she doesn’t go out of her way to please a man. I mean, just look at her. Or listen to her.”
“Since I sleep with her every night,” Ransom said coldly, “I might know a bit more than you do about how Tess pleases a man.”
Tess hoped the shadow of her hat hid the flush that crawled up her neck. A rush of gratitude for his defense almost made her glad Rojo was being nice to him.
Lucky for her, before she could go totally mushy, something else demanded her attention.
“Looks like a mired cow over there.” Josh pointed to the brushy bank of an unnamed creek—unnamed because it seldom carried water. The uncommonly regular rains during the last month had turned more than one dry creek to quicksand and mud.
The cow was there, big as life. If Tess hadn’t been so distracted, she would have seen it without Josh’s help.
“She’s a mama,” Tess said.
Indeed, a spindly legged calf fled at their approach, but Rojo circled behind it to block its retreat. It halted uncertainly, bawling distress. Mama bawled back, more angry at the separation from her calf than the mud sucking at her legs.
When Tess started to dismount, Ransom told her to stay put. “No reason for all three of us to get mucked up,” he said cheerfully. “Sean here can back me up. Can’t you, Sean?”
Ordinarily, Tess would have bristled at Josh taking charge, but the prospect of seeing Sean make closer acquaintance with the slobbering, foam-flecked, mud-encrusted cow made her gladly settle for the role of spectator.
With impressive skill, Josh dropped a rope around the cow’s horns, wrapped the rope around his saddle horn, and drew the rope taut. Sean got the job of pushing from behind.
Predictably, he objected. “You expect me to wade out in that slime? These are new boots!”
Ransom grinned. “We could ask your sister to do it.”
Sean shot him a filthy look, but the challenge to his manhood was clear. Minutes later he stood knee deep in mud with a shoulder propped against the cow’s dung-coated rear end.
“Heave ho,” Ransom said as his horse put tension on the rope. “Push, Sean. Lean into her.”
“Go to hell.” But Sean pushed. The cow bawled her distress, raised her tail, and treated Sean to a stream of greenish brown cow plop.
Tess howled with laughter. She couldn’t help it. Her brother covered with steaming dung was a sight to treasure in her memory. Her sides nearly split.
Sean didn’t see the humor. Between moans and curses, he vainly searched for water to wash off the stuff, which spattered his chest and dotted his face. The creek offered no water, though. Only mud.
Tess took mercy on him. “Take my canteen,” she offered. “It will rinse some of it off.”
He waved it angrily away, still cursing the cow, Josh, Tess, the ranch, the mud, and the whole bovine population in general, which made Tess laugh yet again. In the meantime, the cow, with Josh’s horse steadily pulling, managed to struggle free of the mud. She shook herself and bawled as Josh flipped the rope from her horns. In response, her calf trotted in their direction. Still muttering and waving his arms in disgust, Sean started for his horse. Like some greenhorn, he made the mistake of getting between the distraught mama cow and her calf. Mama, already on edge from her ordeal, saw the man in her line of vision and did what any cranky range cow would do. She charged. Sean looked up to see a thousand po
unds of beef bearing down upon him with tossing horns and distended nostrils.
Tess reacted in midlaugh, digging heels into Ranger and leaping forward to head off the charge even as Rojo rushed forward, barking frantically. But Josh got there ahead of both of them. He careened his horse into the angry cow’s beefy shoulder, making her stumble and go down on her knees. The move was both gutsy and dangerous—and probably the only one that could have saved Sean from becoming part of the soil layer.
Sean made a dash for his horse. The bewildered cow got to her feet, shook her head, and with Rojo’s loud encouragement, ambled off toward her calf.
“And you ask why I want to sell the ranch!” Sean growled. Less than an hour after they got back to the ranch, he packed his gear, saddled his horse, and rode off without so much as a huffy good-bye.
The story of Sean’s rescue got passed around the ranch faster than Rosie’s hot biscuits. Josh became the hero of the day. He had won the men’s admiration when he’d stuck with Nitro alongside Tess, but saving a fellow cowboy (even though Sean hardly qualified as a cowboy, in Tess’s opinion) sent him right up the ladder to a pedestal. The next morning, he just about elevated himself to sainthood when he led Nitro out of the barn with a saddle on his back, mounted, and in full view of everyone, rode the stallion one circuit of the corral and dismounted, still in one piece. The stallion tossed his head and regarded the man disdainfully—just to keep his dignity intact—but otherwise, he behaved like a well-broke mount. Among the onlookers, jaws dropped, eyes widened.
“Whoo-hoo!” Henry shouted, once Josh had both feet safely back on the ground. “Ride that sucker, Josh!”
Miguel tapped Tess’s shoulder with a fist. “We found you a good one, eh, Miss Tess?”
Could the day get more annoying? Tess wondered. “You didn’t find him, and he’s not a ‘good one,’ okay? And he’ll be leaving soon.”
As she stalked into the house, Miguel grinned at Rosie. “If I hooked a mighty fine fish, I wouldn’t be so anxious to throw him back.”
Rosie shook her head in disgust. “What men don’t know about women is pathetic.”
