Cowboy Fever (14 page)

Teague nodded and shook most of the water off his hands, then dried them on his jeans. “You mind if I stay and watch?”

“No, that's fine. Maybe you could even help.” Working side by side with Teague would be great. Maybe they really could be friends. She just had to be careful he didn't fall on top of her again, that's all. She'd be fine as long as she didn't touch him.

She glanced over to where he was leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets, his long, lean legs crossed at the ankles. He hadn't shaved, so stubble softened the angle of his jaw. His eyes were thoughtful, giving her an appraising look with a hint of a challenge in it.

Okay, maybe she shouldn't look at him either.

But she needed help, right? And she had a feeling Teague would be good with the kids.

“That would be great. Troy's over at Skelton's, working on some special project. Top secret, as usual.” She rolled her eyes. “So I could use your help.”

Teague hesitated. “I'm not really good with kids.”

“You'll be fine.” Jodi nodded sharply, her mind made up. “Go get Triple Threat, would you? Only we're calling him TT. I don't think parents will be too enthusiastic about their kids getting on a horse named something so—well—threatening.”

He hesitated, looking faintly uncertain. The look reminded her of his teenaged self and she couldn't help smiling.

“All you have to do is lead the horse,” she said. “And trust me, the kids are a lot easier to deal with than the goat.”

Teague grabbed a halter from a hook in the barn and headed for the pasture, still catching his breath. He didn't know how Jodi could recover so quickly from what had happened between them. Every time he touched her, he spun off into some alternate universe and had trouble returning to earth, but Jodi seemed to take their lovemaking right in stride. Didn't it mean anything to her? The old Jodi would have made the afternoon's activities into a long-running soap opera, but her new, citified self seemed to think nothing of it, standing up, brushing herself off, and getting right back to business.

Triple Threat was waiting at the fence, his ears pricked forward. The horse was gorgeous—a palomino with lots of flashy chrome—but he didn't hold his head quite as high as he used to, and Teague thought he looked tired and a little sad. Back in the day, The Threat, as Bill called him, had been one big ball of try. It was sad when animals got old.

He led the horse back to the barn and tossed a blanket and saddle on his back. Giving the cinch a firm final tug, he led him out into the sunlight. “Come on, old man,” he said. “Let's go.”

The Threat followed him obediently enough, and Teague was glad to see no trace of a limp. The lameness must not be too bad. Arthritis could render a horse too lame for hard work like roping, with all its quick starts and stops, but leave him perfectly fine for casual riding.

“There's your horse, Russell.” Jodi was standing on top of the ramp behind a wheelchair that held a little boy who looked about eight, or maybe ten. He wore thick, heavy-framed glasses and an English-style riding helmet. A thick woven cotton belt was draped loosely around his waist. “His name is TT.”

“Hi, TT,” the boy said. His voice was surprisingly deep, and Teague suddenly realized the kid was a lot older than eight. He was thirteen, maybe fourteen, but his body was so wasted by some disease that he looked like a child.

“Russell's dad will get him in the saddle, so you just have to lead,” Jodi said. “Russell, this is Teague. He's going to help us today.”

“Hello, Teague.” The boy rocked slightly as he lifted his right arm toward Teague. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Nervously, Teague led the horse over, threading him between the ramp and a set of freestanding stairs, and gave the boy's hand a hearty shake. The boy winced and Teague softened his grip, worried he'd hurt him, but the grin on the kid's face said otherwise. Teague breathed a quiet sigh of relief. If Russell was anything like Troy, he was probably tired of being treated like spun glass. Still, the kid looked genuinely fragile. He'd better be careful.

“And this is Russell's dad Ben.” Jodi nodded toward a man who was standing on the steps. Teague led Triple Threat into position, glancing nervously at Ben. If Russell looked fragile, this guy looked indestructible. He was huge—a gigantic hulk of a man, with tattoos etched on biceps that bulged from a greasy-looking black T-shirt decorated with skulls. He looked like a biker—a three-hundred-pound biker. Much of that weight appeared to be muscle, but his belly had escaped the rigors of the gym and hung over his belt, the shirt gaping upward to reveal a stretch of hairy pale flesh.

“Nice to meet you,” Teague said, though he wasn't sure.

The biker dude grunted, then turned to his son. “Ready?” he said gruffly.

Russell nodded, but Teague saw a spark of fear in his eyes.

“You ever ride before?” Teague glanced over at Jodi, wondering if he'd stepped over the line. She gave him a faint smile and a nod.

“Oh, yeah.” Russell faked a casual air that clashed with the treble note of tension in his voice. “I rode with Billy the Kid and the Wild Bunch back in the day.” He cocked his head to one side and peered up at Triple Threat. “Think this nag's got any spunk?”

Teague laughed. “No, he's a pussycat. It'll be like riding your granny's striped tabby.”

“You never met my granny, did you? Or her tabby.” The boy grinned as his father laughed. Teague flushed as he thought of the kind of woman who might have given birth to Ben, Son of Meatloaf.

“Okay, Teague. Could you push TT back a little bit?” She watched him back the horse, nodding when they'd reached the position she wanted.

“Now hang onto him and don't let him move,” Jodi said. She turned to Ben. “Don't worry, TT's steady, and Teague knows what he's doing.”

“Yeah, you're a real cowboy, right?” Russell asked.

Teague nodded.

“Do you rodeo?”

“Not as much as I used to. But I raise bucking horses,” Teague said. “And bulls.”

“I met Ty Murray once,” Russell said. “It was my Make-a-Wish. He was cool.”

“I bet.”

Ben bent to help his son out of the chair. Chattering had momentarily let the kid forget his fear, but now his face paled as he rose onto his spindly, unsteady legs.

“Ready?” Ben looked Russell in the face and the two shared a nod and a smile, Russell's tentative, his father's reassuring. Teague felt a sudden spasm of… something. Envy? That's what it felt like, but it couldn't be. He had Troy, after all. He knew what it was like to be responsible for someone. So why would he envy this guy?

Russell sucked in a frightened breath as Ben helped him onto the horse. TT stood patiently, enduring the complicated procedure of getting Russell mounted just as he'd held his ground in the rodeo arena, keeping the lariat taut while his rider trussed a bawling calf. Teague was concentrating on the horse, watching for any sign of movement, so he didn't look up at Russell until Jodi spoke again.

“Good job, Russ,” she said. “You're riding.”

“No, I'm just sitting here,” Russell said, but the grin on the kid's face said sitting there was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. He looked elated, victorious, and Teague felt something prick at the back of his eyes. Looking away from Jodi, he rubbed them, then quickly turned his attention back to the horse.

“Ready to get moving?”

Russell nodded. His father stood beside him, one meaty hand on the small of the kid's narrow back, his eyes fixed on his son's face.

“Okay, to make the horse go, you click like this.” Jodi clucked her tongue and Russell followed suit. Teague hadn't thought the kid's grin could get any wider, but when the horse stepped out, Russell's face looked like it might split in two.

TT paced slowly around the ring, his head bobbing with each step, his rider swaying with the motion. Jodi had moved to the off side of the horse. She gripped the front of the saddle with one hand and laid her arm on Russell's leg, her forearm parallel to his thigh. Ben was in the same position, except that he continued to support Russell's back.

“Can't he go faster?” Russell said breathlessly.

Teague looked back at the kid's hands, white-knuckled on the saddle horn. “Nope. He's got knee trouble. This is good exercise for him, but he can't go any faster. He'll have to work his way up gradually.”

“Poor guy.” Russell cautiously lifted one hand from the saddle horn and stroked the horse's neck. Jodi beamed at Teague and he felt a surge of pride. What she'd said about the kids seeing the animals overcome their handicaps made sense. Russell had stopped thinking about himself and focused on the horse, and he was relaxing bit by bit, sinking into the saddle and relaxing his grip on the horn.

“I think maybe he's limping a little,” the boy said.

Teague turned and walked backward a few steps, eyeing the horse's feet. “He'll be okay,” he said. “He won't ever get stronger if we don't challenge him a little.”

“Man, I've heard
that
before,” Russell said. “My physical therapist's even meaner than you.” The kid stroked the horse's neck again, but as he bent forward, he started to fall onto the horse's neck. Overcompensating, he jerked backward. His father grabbed his belt and kept him in the saddle, but the kid's face turned white.

“You're okay,” Jodi said soothingly.

“I know.” Russell was steady again, but his face was pale and his hands gripped the horn again. “I'm fine.”

After a series of slow circles and figure eights that gradually restored Russell's confidence, Teague pulled The Threat to a stop by the gate at a signal from Jodi.

“Thanks.” She graced him with a smile that was equal parts gratitude, delight, and I-told-you-so. “Teague, could you help Ben get Russell down?”

Teague started to follow Ben to the gate, but Jodi stopped him.

“Ben'll get his chair,” she said. “We dismount out here.”

“Not at the ramp?” Teague asked.

Jodi shook her head. Teague looked up at the boy on the horse and his stomach clenched. There was no way he could refuse to help, but with his luck he'd drop the kid or something.

“Just swing his leg up and over, and then let him slide down to you,” Jodi said.

Teague reached over and lifted the boy's leg while Ben rolled the chair to a stop and walked around the horse to play spotter on the other side. The kid was thin, but his limbs were practically dead weight, and Teague had to lift his leg over the cantle. He almost threw the kid forward, but Ben grabbed on and the two of them managed to get Russell seated sideways in the saddle.

“Now I'm riding like a girl,” the kid said. “Get me off of here before the Wild Bunch catches me going sidesaddle.”

Teague laughed and reached up. Russell slid into his arms, and Teague caught him easily and held him a moment before lowering him slowly to his feet. The kid clutched his arm, eyeing the wheelchair with a flash of dread in his eyes.

Teague lowered Russell into the chair. The kid sighed and settled in, his eyes glistening.

“Thanks,” he said. “That was fun.” He looked down at his hands. Obviously, the adventure was ending too soon.

“We'll be coming back next week,” Ben said.

“Will you be here?” Russell looked up at Teague, his gaze hopeful.

“Sure,” Teague said. “Hey, you want to meet my horse?” It was a spur of the moment thing. The kid probably spent every waking minute at home, staring at the walls, and Teague was danged if he'd send him back right away.

“Sure.” The grin was back.

Teague shoved the chair across the yard without a backward glance at Jodi or Ben. He probably wasn't supposed to take over with the patients like this—the
clients
, he meant the
clients
—but Russell needed a little more time.

So did Teague.

“His name's Vegas.” He paused by the corral. Vegas, turning at the sound of his name, walked over and thrust his head over the fence. Curious, he poked at Russell with his nose, breathing on him and snorting.

Russell laughed. “Don't let him eat me.”

“He's just checking you out.”

Smiling tentatively, Russell lifted one arm and stroked his hand down the horse's nose, looking at first one clouded eye, then the other.

“He's blind, isn't he?”

Teague nodded.

“That would suck. I'm glad I can see. I'd rather see than walk,” Russell declared.

“Yeah.” Teague's throat was suddenly tight, and he could barely get the words out. “Yeah, me too. If I had to choose.”

***

Jodi watched Teague stride away, pushing Russell's chair over the rough ground. She'd known he'd do all right with the kids, but dang, he was doing great. Ben had told her Russell was fearful of strangers, but he and Teague had taken off like a couple of kids leaving the old folks behind on an outing. Teague hadn't asked or anything.

She glanced over at Ben. “Sorry.”

“Hell, no.” The big man grinned, but his eyes were glossy with tears. “Little buddy's having a blast. It's great. Who is that guy?”

“An old friend,” Jodi said.

“Boyfriend?

“No,” she said. It came out a little too loud. “Just a friend. We grew up together.”

“Well, I hope he's here next week. Russell's got a thing about cowboys, and that guy looks like the real deal. You ought to do whatever you have to do to keep him around.” Ben realized what he'd said and flushed. “I mean—I don't mean…”

“It's okay.” Jodi looked away so he couldn't see her face. She'd gotten a pretty good start on doing what she had to do to keep Teague around. Judging from the intensity of his gaze after their little frolic in the grass, the trouble might be getting him to go home—unless he'd come to his senses during the lesson.

But she'd promised, she reminded herself. And Teague couldn't be trusted. He'd given her that look before, all those years ago when she'd said good-bye—but it had disappeared from his face as suddenly and surely as if it had been erased. And even now, there was Courtney. Jodi couldn't quite figure out that situation.

Teague and Russell were still at the corral fence. Teague had yanked up some grass, and now Vegas was nibbling it from the boy's hand. The breeze carried their laughter down to Jodi and Ben.

“Whatever you have to do,” Ben said. “I guess I did mean it.”