How to Handle a Cowboy (24 page)

The girl glanced at Brady then back at Jeffrey and sighed. “Sure,” she said. “Let's get Ridge or Shane to help too. Trailering's hard for this guy.”

“I'll help,” Brady said.

“You shouldn't have any trouble with him now,” Ridge said. “I fixed that problem.”

“You fixed Brady?” Suze smiled for the first time since she'd arrived, and Sierra was stunned at how it transformed her face. “It's about time somebody did that. Maybe he'll behave better once his testosterone level quits clouding his brain.”

“He fixed your
horse.
” While his brothers laughed, Brady strode over and tried to take the lead rope from Jeffrey, who had just clipped it to the horse's halter. The horse pinned its ears and danced, a bundle of hair-trigger energy wrapped in horsehide. Sierra held her breath, wondering if the boy was about to get kicked or trampled, but Brady backed off and Jeffrey spoke softly to the horse, who calmed down as quickly as he'd riled up.

“Speedo just needs to run,” Suze told Jeffrey. “That's what makes him a good barrel horse.”

“His name is
Speedo
?” Frankie and Carter staggered around, laughing. Even Jeffrey smiled a little.

“He earned that name,” Ridge said. “Nobody ever had to teach him to race. Hard part's getting him to slow down and take it easy when there's
not
a rodeo purse on the line.” He turned to Suze. “But you were right. He's getting older. I wouldn't practice hard stops any more than you have to.”

While Ridge showed Jeffrey how to safely trailer the horse, Suze climbed into the truck and clipped on her seat belt. Brady hovered nearby, and Sierra thought his confident grin had gone a little shaky at the edges.

“Why don't you stick around a while?” he asked Suze. “I had a great ride on Tornado last night. Don't you want to hear about it?”

“No,” she said flatly, checking the rearview mirror.

When Ridge clanged the trailer door shut and gave Suze a thumbs-up, she cranked the engine into a slow rumble and put the truck in gear.

“I'm sure you wore that story out already, telling it to all the girls at the beer tent last night,” she said.

“I didn't…” Brady clamped his mouth shut, and Sierra figured he'd realized protesting would be a lie. He might seem like a devil-may-care cowboy right out of a country song, but he'd been raised by the same honorable man who'd raised Ridge, and while womanizing was evidently irresistible, he drew the line at lying. Casting Suze a wounded look, he pressed his worn brown felt hat lower on his forehead and slouched into the house.

“They're in love,” Ridge told Sierra as Suze rolled out of the drive. “Hope they figure it out before they kill each other.”

Sierra didn't comment. From what she'd seen, Suze couldn't stand Brady, but Ridge apparently saw his little brother through rose-colored glasses. She supposed that's what it was like when you had family. She'd never had any siblings herself; it had been just her and her mother. She still talked to her mom now and then, although the two of them didn't have much to say. Sierra got tired of listening to one-sided rants about how men were dogs.

Shutting down her memories, she brought her attention back to the present. Jeffrey stood by the corral, watching the bay horse with far more fascination than it seemed to merit. The animal was only cropping grass, but Jeffrey seemed entranced.

“How come you talk here at the ranch and not at home?” she asked him.

“Nobody can hear me,” he said, as if it was obvious.

“Sure we can. I can, and Ridge and his brothers. What do you mean, nobody can hear you?”

“You said.” His little face was solemn. “It's a secret place, where nobody can see or hear us. It's okay here.”

“I did say that, didn't I?” She remembered that first day, how she'd told the kids the ranch was magic.

She'd been right.

She walked with him to the barn, where Ridge and Shane were handing out instructions for the day.

“I'll be your riding teacher today,” Shane said. “Jeffrey's going to stick with Ridge.”

“No fair,” Isaiah grumbled, but a glare from Ridge shut him down.

“I teach a little different from Ridge,” Shane said. “I have some secret cowboy stuff he doesn't know about.”

Isaiah's eyes widened, and he followed Shane willingly.

On a hunch, Sierra followed Ridge and Jeffrey. When she was certain of where they were going, she stopped.

“Wait a minute.”

Ridge turned. “What?”

She bent over Jeffrey and pointed toward a corral that was far enough that he wouldn't be able to hear their conversation but not so far that she couldn't keep an eye on him.

“Jeffrey, could you go over there and watch those horses for a minute?”

He nodded and began trudging over to the corral.

“Just watch. Don't touch,” she called after him.

She turned to Ridge. “What are you doing?”

“I'm taking him with me while I work Moonpie,” he said. “And by the way, you can't come. It'll distract the horse and he's liable to get feisty.”

“Feisty? Ridge, that horse is dangerous.”

“Not to Jeff. You saw them, same as I did. You telling me there's not a bond between those two? They're just alike. Their only experiences with people have been bad ones. There's something broken in both of them, and it's like they recognize each other.”

“Kindred souls.”

“Exactly. Jeffrey's never had that. There's a chance he'll never find it again.”

She thought a moment. “Can you guarantee the horse won't hurt him?”

Ridge looked irritated. “Of course not. There are no guarantees in ranch life, believe me.” He thought a moment. “Except one.”

“What's that?”

“If you keep Jeff away from that horse, you'll break his heart.”

She looked over at the corral. Jeffrey had climbed up the fence and was perched on the top rail. The two horses were jockeying for his attention, pushing each other in a battle for the boy's touch.

She could hear his voice in her head.
I'm sick of someday
.

“Don't take this away from him, Sierra,” Ridge said. “Let him help this horse. I'll guide him through it, and he'll see that you can recover from the past. It might be the best thing that ever happens to him.”

“It might be the
last
thing that ever happens to him,” she said. But it was a weak protest. She'd seen Jeffrey's face. The horses had helped all the boys, but for Jeffrey, they'd opened a dark door that had been closed, locked, and painted shut a long time ago.

“All right,” she said. “Just let him watch, okay?”

Ridge smiled, and the old cowboy was back—the one who won every contest, who conquered every bronc and bull. Suddenly, she knew exactly how the broncs and bulls felt.

When she returned to the group, Shane had Carter and Isaiah mounted on two horses, playing a game that involved tossing rings onto fence posts from the animals' backs.

“Looks like fun,” she said.

“Yeah, they needed to do something more than ride in a circle.” He turned and flashed her a smile.

Dang. Ridge's big brother was almost as deadly handsome as Ridge himself.

“Did Ridge take Jeff to work on that damned crazy horse he bought?”

Sierra felt suddenly cold. “You mean Moonpie? You think he's crazy?”

He looked her in the eye and seemed to sense the panic there. “He's fine. Just one more hayburner than we need, that's all. They'll be in the round ring over there.” He gestured toward a high-walled enclosure near the back of the barn. “The kid'll be fine as long as you leave 'em be. Seems like the quiet kind, and he's got a way with horses. Reminds me of Ridge at that age.”

“Really?”

Shane grinned. “Really. You could hardly get a word out of him when he first came here. Barely talked at all.”

Sierra thought about that while she watched the kids for a while, making sure Shane could handle them. After ten minutes, she wondered what it was about cowboys that cast a magic spell of good behavior over her raucous crew of troublemakers.

She drifted away, telling herself she'd go look for Riley, but somehow she found herself at the round ring where Ridge and Jeffrey were working the buckskin horse. The high sides of the ring shut her out, so she just stood and listened awhile. She didn't hear a word from Jeffrey, but Ridge was talking to somebody. She could hear hoofbeats, slow and sort of stumbling, and the cowboy kept saying “That's it. That's it.”

Curious, she pressed her eye to a knothole. Jeffrey was walking around the ring with the horse following behind him. At first Sierra thought the boy was leading the horse, but as Jeffrey circled and backed up, moved sideways and executed sharp, sudden stops, she realized there was no rope involved. The horse was simply following him, as if fascinated. Through most of the exercise, it looked as if the horse's muzzle was almost touching the boy's shoulder.

As for Jeffrey, he looked enraptured by what was happening. He had a wondering, dumbstruck look that told Sierra something was changing inside the dark world of his mind.

She'd just crouched down for a better look when the horse stopped and snorted. Jeffrey gave Ridge a puzzled glance, and Ridge turned and looked straight at the knothole.

“Go away, Sierra,” he said. “You're distracting the horse.”

She started to speak then realized she'd only spook the animal and endanger the child she was trying to protect.

Trailing off to the house, she felt a little lost. She was used to being indispensable, and now nobody needed her—not even Riley.

As if to answer her thoughts, Riley came clomping down from the second floor in work boots that made her pale legs look even skinnier than usual. Her hair was covered in plaster dust and her tool belt hung so low on her hips Sierra feared for the cutoffs that barely covered her butt, but she was smiling like she was glad to see Sierra, and that was all that mattered.

Shoving her safety glasses up on her head, Riley led Sierra out to the porch, where Brady was drinking a beer.

“There's something terrifying about a beautiful woman who can handle power tools,” he said.

Riley revved the electric drill in her hand and Brady faked terror.

“Long as you stay out of my way, you're safe,” she said.

“No problem there,” he said.

Sierra looked from Brady, cool and calm on the porch swing with his beer, to Shane and the boys, who were shrouded in the dust rising from the dry, hot dirt of the riding arena.

“Let's make lemonade.”

“Why? Somebody give you lemons?” Brady asked.

“No.” She smiled. “Not today, anyway.”

Riley shed her tool belt and goggles and hung out in the kitchen while Sierra stirred up a pitcher of Country Time. Their conversation was a little awkward, but Sierra was reassured; they were still friends. The frost between them was dissolving, sure as the sugar was dissolving in the glass pitcher as she stirred.

Maybe the men and boys had a sixth sense for refreshments, or maybe they heard the ice cubes clinking. Shane and his four aspiring cowboys trailed in, dusty and dirty but with smiles on their faces. Just when she'd gotten them all situated with plastic Solo cups of lemonade, Ridge and Jeffrey arrived.

“How's that stargazing, saddle-shedding, bucking, biting son-of-a-bitch working out for you?” Brady asked.

Shane shot his brother a quelling look as he settled on the porch rail. “There are kids here, Brady,” he said. “Try to watch your language.”

Sierra, perched on the railing on the far side of the porch where she could see the whole group, saw Frankie mouthing the phrases to himself already.

“They got to learn sometime,” Brady replied, but he switched off his grin for a second and shot Sierra an apologetic look. She could see why he drove Suze crazy. He was charming in a roguish way that made it impossible to dislike him, and disliking him seemed to be Suze's goal in life.

“Anyway, the stargazing saddle-shedding horse is a wonder,” Ridge said. “Either that, or Jeffrey is. Kid had him joining up in about five minutes and just put his first ride on him.”

“It must be the horse,” Isaiah said. “Because I can tell you, Jeffrey ain't no wonder. He doesn't even talk.”

“Do too,” said Jeffrey.

“Wait a minute,” Sierra said. “Did you say Jeffrey ‘put his first ride on him'? What does that mean, exactly?”

“Means he rode him.” Ridge grinned. “I told you, the kid's a natural.”

“You put him on the back of that horse?”

Ridge shrugged. “It's not like it's the first time.”

“But the horse is dangerous.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he just needed the right person to help him see the world a little different.”

She felt her anger rising and trapped it just before it spewed out. Shoving off the railing, she ran down the porch steps and stalked around the corner of the house. As soon as she figured they were out of hearing of the group on the porch, she turned to face Ridge, who'd followed her just as she'd expected.

She stepped up to stand toe to toe and eye to eye. “I can't believe you did that. We decided together we'd let him
watch.
”

“I know horses. And I think we've determined that I know kids pretty well too. The right moment came, so I just went with it. I told you, it would be cruel not to let those two help each other out.”

She jabbed a finger in his chest. “You also told me you can't guarantee he won't get hurt.”

He looked down at the finger then up at her face, his eyes steady and hard. She took back the finger, but other than that, she refused to back down one inch.

“No, I can't,” he said. “I can't guarantee that you won't crash that van on the way home, either. But if we waited around for guarantees, we wouldn't have much of a life, would we?”

“We'd be alive.”

“I don't know about you, but I want more out of life than survival.” He turned away and headed back to the group, leaving her seething, her anger barely diminished.

She stood apart for a while, watching the aspens sway in the breeze and listening to the cries of the meadowlarks that perched on nearby fence posts. They'd light on a post, preen a little then flit up into the air with a burst of liquid song.

She couldn't stay mad with the meadowlarks around. She wasn't through with Ridge, but he had a point. Besides, she wanted to go back to the group. She didn't have siblings, and the bond between the brothers fascinated her. The whole atmosphere of the ranch made her happy. The place was all about family and animals and children. Not a bad place to be, even if Ridge was being a careless jerk.

When she returned, a couple of Brady's rodeo friends had arrived and were perched on the porch rail trading stories. Frankie was showing Brady a beetle he'd found in the garden.

“Hey, look at that,” Brady said. “What kind of bug do you suppose that is?”

Frankie shrugged. “I don't know. Looks like some kind of biting, stinging son-of-a-bitch, doesn't he?”

Brady blanched and slid his gaze toward Sierra.

“Sorry,” he mouthed.

Sierra grinned and wandered over to the other side of the porch, where Shane was sitting and leaned on the porch rail beside him. “I think you've got a higher population here than the whole town of Wynott,” she said. “I always thought ranch life was lonesome.”

“Not here,” Shane said. “With Ridge's training business, the seasonal cattle work, and Brady hauling his troublemaking friends here, there's never a dull moment.”

She remembered the other night when she'd sat on the porch and wondered how Ridge could live a life so solitary. How he could stand the quiet.

She had her answer now.

“It was quiet the other night,” she said. “It was just me and Ridge here, and you could practically hear the earth turn.”

“That's rare, feeling the earth move,” Shane said. “I guess you really got lucky.”

She laughed. She'd labeled him the serious brother too soon.

“Seriously,” Shane said, as if reading her mind. “How are you guys doing?”

“You mean me and Riley?” She did her best to stare at him blankly, but his dark gaze didn't waver.

“No. Although I ought to thank you for Riley. She's a wonder with a power saw and a real nice girl. We all like her.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “The way Ridge described her, she sounded like a holy terror. But she's a sweet girl under all those tattoos. Doesn't take long to see that. But what I was asking about was you and Ridge.”

“It's nothing serious.” She nudged a rock with the toe of her boot, rolling it under her foot. “We're just friends because of the boys.”

She kept rolling the rock back and forth, back and forth. She hated lying, and this was a lie. Friends didn't kiss. Friends didn't feel all hot and squishy inside every time they looked at each other. And friends didn't have knock-your-socks-off, caterwauling sex at every opportunity.

“That's too bad,” Shane said. “You make him happy.”

She almost choked on her lemonade. “Me?”

“You and those kids.” He nodded toward the porch steps, where Ridge sat surrounded by boys. They were listening intently to whatever he was saying, watching him gesture with his hands.

Sierra remembered those gestures from the first time she'd met him, when he'd been describing cattle work.
Jink
left
when
they
zig, right when they zag.
She'd been worried that the gruff cowboy wouldn't be able to handle the kids.

“He's so good for them,” she muttered. She'd lost her rock somehow, so she found another one.

“And they're good for him.” Shane downed the last of his lemonade in a long gulp and set the cup down on the floor. “I don't know if you know about his—situation.”

“His hand?”

Shane nodded. “He told you?”

“Yeah. It's a shame.”

“Not really. It got him off the rodeo road, and he needed that.”

She swung her head around, surprised. “He did?”

“It's a rough life,” Shane said. “I did it myself for a while, and then I took a job managing a ranch up north of here.” He straightened the brim of his hat. “Rodeo's one injury after another, and the older you get, the worse the injuries are. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and it's better now, when he's young enough to turn it around.”

“I never thought of it that way. It seemed so tragic. He loved rodeo.”

“He thinks he did because it's all he knows,” Shane said. “But like I said, it's a hard life. You do it long enough, and you get to thinking there's nothing else to life but the next bull, the next bronc.”

“And the next buckle bunny?”

Shane grinned then sobered. “He wasn't into that. Got involved with a woman who wanted to tie him up and brand him for good so she could spend his money. Goddamn Shelley.” He kicked at the air as if booting the unfortunate Shelley out of Ridge's life. “She was bad for him. Really bad. Figured out where the scars were and cut every one of 'em a little deeper.” He gave Sierra an appraising look, as if he was trying to decide whether to confide in her. “I won't lie to you. Ridge is messed up. We all are.” He nodded toward the boys. “They will be too, but they're getting a better time of it than we had at that age. You love those boys, and that helps.”

She knew he was right. The Decker cowboys' childhoods had molded their adult selves, and the same would be true of her boys. They'd always miss the steady, unquestioning love that came with good parenting.

Dear
God. How was she ever going to leave here?

Shane continued, unaware of the storm he'd started in her heart.

“When Ridge came here, he didn't talk.”

“Brady mentioned that,” Sierra said. “It surprised me.”

“That just shows how different he is around you. It wouldn't surprise anybody else. He still doesn't talk any more than he has to. Not to most people, anyway.”

“I didn't know that.”

“You've changed him, and for the better.” He grinned. “Maybe he just needed the right person to help him see the world a little different.”

She had to smile. “Point taken.”

Shane stood and picked up his cup. “I hope you stick around. He doesn't need another heartbreak.”

“Like with Shelley?”

He laughed then shook his head. “No, like with rodeo. He never gave a rat's ass about Shelley. But he loves you and those boys like he loved bronc riding.”

He walked into the house without another word, letting the screen door swing shut behind him. Sierra sat in the shadowed corner of the porch for a while, watching Ridge with the kids and thinking about what Shane had said.

She'd seen Ridge's eyes when he talked about rodeo. She'd seen the hurt, the disappointment, the feeling of failure. Was Shane right? Was she going to hurt him like that all over again?

All along, she'd been worried about her own heart, her own feelings. She'd just assumed that Ridge was like most men—just looking for some caterwauling sex. It hadn't occurred to her that he could be hurt too.

It should have. He was a Phoenix House boy grown tall, with a past as full of loss and sorrow as any of her boys. She should have been more careful.

She needed to explain things to him before it was too late. She needed to explain that there were things she needed to do in the world, that Wynott simply wasn't her last stop.

Once she was gone, some other Shelley would come along and steal his heart. Break it, probably. The thought made her gut twist, but really, she was no better than Shelley herself. Because she was going to break his heart too.