Tall, Dark and Cowboy (17 page)

“A ride?” Lacey blanched. “On a horse?”

“Well, yeah.” Chase chuckled. “Captain won’t be able to kick you, step on you, or bite you when you’re on his back. Besides, maybe you need to see the fun part first. You like fast cars, right? And when you were a cheerleader, you never minded being thrown up in the air and stuff.”

She remembered how much she’d loved the high-flying cheer stunts—the feeling of giddy freedom as her teammates tossed her into the air, and the feeling of trust as she crashed down into their waiting arms.

Then she remembered getting dropped.

It had hurt, but she’d survived. Spent a few days on the bench nursing a bruise, and then gotten right back on the pyramid. The worst-case scenario was never as bad as your fear made it out to be.

“It’s not like you’re not brave, Lacey.”

“No, I guess not. Actually, being so scared of Captain kind of surprised me. I’ve had the opposite surprise so many times since I left home. I like being alone. I like being on the road at night, going fast. I even like Grady. I like making a life for myself, and when I first left, I wasn’t sure I could even do it.”

“I could have told you that.”

“But you knew me ‘when.’” She sighed. “I changed later on. I spent so much time playing second fiddle to Trent that I didn’t do anything for myself. I was just there to support him. Heck, I didn’t even support him. I just decorated his life.”

“That was a shame. A waste,” he said.

She cocked her head, wondering if he was joking. Clearly, he wasn’t. And he was right. She’d wasted the woman she used to be. She’d given her life to other people—her father, her husband—and failed to use all the advantages of being popular and pretty and lucky and rich. She’d lived a life that didn’t matter—not to herself and not to anyone else.

She remembered hosting a cocktail party for Trent’s investors, wearing an elegant, expensive new dress. She’d felt every eye upon her, the men covetous, the women envious as she tossed her head back and laughed a perfect, tinkling laugh. She was the ultimate treasure, the shining diamond in the luxurious setting of Trent’s enormous house. They’d all watched her. Envied her.

But when she’d caught a glimpse of a woman with flawless makeup and perfect hair reflected in the window, she’d wondered who it was for a moment before she realized she was looking at herself.

That had been her first panic attack. She’d wound up on the back deck, struggling to breathe, praying no one would see her sweating, gasping, being so much less than perfect. She’d wanted to run away, fast and far, and never go back.

She’d told herself to suck it up, to be brave and stick it out. It wasn’t until total disaster demolished her life that she’d packed up and run.

As it turned out, she should have done it sooner. She’d managed to overcome her fear that night, but it would have been smarter—and braver—to run.

“Once I almost ran away from home in the middle of a party,” she said. “I had this crazy urge to rip off my dress and kick off my heels and take off.”

“I like the dress part.” Chase’s slow Tennessee drawl tasted each word as he probed her eyes with his own. “But you can leave the heels on if you want.”

“Hey,” she protested. “I’m your employee now. That’s sexual harassment.”

“You’re the one who started talking about ripping your clothes off.” He grinned unapologetically and hoisted the saddle onto Captain’s back. She watched his shoulders and the muscles in his arms flex as he set it in place and suppressed the urge to tell him she’d rather ride him than the horse.

But that wasn’t what she was here for. She was here to work, to prove her worth—not only to Chase but to herself. She squeezed her legs together to quell the rush of warmth let loose by the brief lapse into flirtation and did her best to wipe the thought of Chase’s butt from her mind.

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

“I don’t know.” He scuffed one booted toe in the dusty barn aisle. “I thought I’d stick around today and make sure you were okay. You need to learn to ride, and I’d feel a lot better if you mastered Old Bess too, so you can defend yourself. I don’t think Wade will find the ranch, but you never know, and then there’s Galt.”

“Galt?”

“The guy who shot my cow. But don’t worry—Old Bess’ll send him running for the hills.”

“Who’s Bess?” She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer. It sounded like a cow’s name, and she was having enough trouble dealing with horses. Chase didn’t think she was going to ride out and rope the suckers, did he?

But he’d said Bess would help her defend herself. Did they have guard cows?

“Bess is my shotgun. She was my dad’s.”

Lacey heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn’t a cow. She’d forgotten how men were always naming things. Cars. Trucks. Guns.

Wait a minute.
Guns?

“Chase, I don’t want to meet Old Bess. I really don’t. I’m…” She let her voice trail off. She’d been about to say she was scared of guns, but at this rate, he’d think she was scared of mice too.

Okay, she was. But she wasn’t a scaredy type of person. It was just horses and guns and mice. And maybe cows. She hadn’t had much to do with cows, but judging from her reaction to the horses, she was probably afraid of them.

“So do you want to shoot first and ride later?”

She didn’t want to do either one. Maybe he should just shoot
her.
She struggled to quell the fear building in her chest and wished she was anywhere but there. She should have left town. Stolen a car if she had to.

Maybe she still could. She scanned the cluster of ranch buildings, her eye lighting on a huge green tractor standing behind the barn, her desperation making her create wild, reckless scenarios in her head. Maybe she could steal the tractor and take off for Colorado. Nobody would expect to find Lacey Bradford on a tractor. She’d stick on a straw hat and poke along the rural roads. Drivers would curse her, shake their fists, beep their horns—but they’d have no idea they were dealing with an escaped trophy wife.

But taking the tractor would be stealing from Chase, and she wasn’t taking anything from him—not even the things he offered. She was here to earn her keep, so she was going to have to find a way to deal with the horses.

It shouldn’t be so hard. People rode horses every day, and Chase had assured her they wouldn’t hurt her. She trusted Chase. She always had.

She’d certainly trusted him back in the motel room. She’d opened herself to him in a way she’d never done before with a man. And despite the occasional hot, hungry look, he hadn’t touched her or mentioned their escapade. He’d proved worthy of her trust.

She’d have to trust him about the horses too.

She recited her litany of storybook horses as she watched Chase fasten buckles and tug on leather straps until Captain was all decked out like Trigger.

“Stand beside his shoulder, facing his rear.” Chase handed her the reins and showed her how to bunch them in her left hand and hang onto the saddle horn at the same time. He put one hand on the back of the saddle and turned the stirrup slightly. “Left foot,” he said.

She tamped down her fear for the umpteenth time and tucked her toe into the stirrup. Chase was right—once she was on top of the horse, he couldn’t kick her or bite her.

He could throw her, though.

She shoved that thought out of her mind and launched herself toward the saddle—and slammed into the side of the horse. Fortunately, old Captain stood firm, simply swishing his tail once in annoyance. For a flight animal, he was dealing with scary stuff pretty well.

Sliding to the ground, she tried to act casual, as if she hadn’t hit her mouth on the saddle and bruised her left boob.

“You might want to bounce a couple times. It uses muscles that don’t get much exercise in everyday life,” Chase said.

“No kidding. It feels like my thigh’s on fire, and I’m not even on yet.”

“You want a leg up?”

She did, but she wasn’t about to say so. What she wanted and what she needed to do were two different things. She looked up at the saddle, grabbed the horn, and bounced three times on her right foot before she pitched herself upward. She thought she was going to fall again until Chase grabbed the inside of her thigh and more or less tossed her into the saddle.

“Thanks.” She fished for the opposite stirrup and grabbed the reins, holding them tightly in her fist. Captain stood patiently through the whole ordeal, but once she was on board, he took a couple steps backward.

“Whoa.” She grabbed the saddle horn.

“Loosen the reins.”

“Won’t he run away?”

“Nope. Hold ’em like this.” He mounted Jimbo in one fluid motion and held up his hand to show her. “Lay ’em over the right side of his neck to turn him left, the other side to turn him right.” Spinning the gelding in a dizzying demonstration that smacked slightly of showboating, he settled deep in the saddle and the horse stopped short.

Captain shifted his weight, eager to follow, and she let out a little squeal. Chase’s lips thinned, but he was obviously doing his best to be patient.

“You won’t have to do much. These guys stick together, so Captain will follow Jimbo.” He gave her a critical once-over. “Keep your heels down, toes out. And hold the reins lower. You look like you’re scared to death.”

“I
am
scared to death.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. Just remember, you’re on top now, so there’s nothing to worry about.” He grinned and gave Jimbo a click. Lacey clutched the saddle horn as Captain turned and followed. She tried to look straight ahead, because if she looked down, she’d remember how far she had to fall.

“Where are we going?”

“Just to those trees.” Chase pointed toward a green smudge near the distant horizon.

The stupid trees had to be five miles away, but at least Captain was cooperating. He plodded after Jimbo at a sedate, rhythmic pace, his head held low. Lacey rocked with the easy motion and did her best to relax.

“So.” Lacey could tell Chase was hunting for a topic to distract her from her fear. He’d never been the best conversationalist in the world, but it was nice of him to try. “Once you settle down, what kind of job are you looking for? I take it ranch work isn’t your first choice.”

Lacey stared down at the horse’s ears. “Real estate,” she mumbled.

He grimaced, and she rushed to clarify herself. “Not like Trent. I want to find people homes. Find homes that need families, families that need homes… help people build a life.” She stared down at the horse’s ears. “Believe it or not, I wanted to help Conway. Be a part of things, you know?” She sighed. “Trent said I didn’t have the instinct for it.”

“I think you’d be good at it.”

Lacey jerked her head up to see if he was joking. Captain perked up too, quickening his steps. She pulled back on the reins, and he settled back into a slow walk. “You think?”

“You’d be good at lots of things, Lacey,” he said. “You always were.”

“Cheerleading,” she said. “And dating.”

“Motivating people. Leadership,” he countered. “Personal relationships.”

She warmed inside at the compliment, but Chase didn’t know that most of those personal relationships involved fighting off teenage hormone attacks.

“I never really thought about it that way.” She gazed at the horizon and suddenly realized she wasn’t thinking about falling anymore. The steady rhythm of Captain’s body shifting under the saddle was almost soothing. “This is nice,” she said, surprised. “He’s a good horse, isn’t he?”

“He is.”

She looked past Captain’s ears across the prairie. The horses were following a shallow dirt trail, probably made by cattle or antelope, that snaked through the grasses and meandered into some rocks scattered on a hillside up ahead. It seemed like Chase’s horse was following the trail on its own; he sat easily, relaxed in the saddle, holding the reins loosely while he scanned his surroundings.

He looked good on a horse. At home. She studied his posture and tried to imitate it, relaxing her shoulders, holding the reins a little lower and slacker.

They started up the shallow hill, winding between rocks that were shaped and stacked as if some giant had left suddenly while at play. One huge boulder sat atop another smaller stone, balanced like the oversized head of a top-heavy snowman. At the top of the hill, a slice of red rock was exposed, standing out against the green grass like the slash of a knife. They followed the gash down into a ravine, Lacey imitating Chase as he leaned back and let his horse navigate the weed-choked two-track.

When they emerged from the ravine, the land opened up in front of them. Miles of green prairie spread beyond the hillside, cut by barbed wire fences supported by gray posts that leaned one way, then another. The placement of the fences seemed totally random, but the grass and brush that had grown up around them made them appear to be as much a part of the landscape as the rocks and trees. A small building stood a short distance away beside a shallow, winding stream. It was obviously abandoned.

“Was that a homestead?”

Chase nodded. “I think it was originally the Galt family place. That stream’s the border between our properties.”

“Guess we won’t check it out then,” she said.

He nodded agreement, then tilted his chin toward a few white-faced cattle that were grazing placidly nearby.

“I need to check that calf. The one Galt shot.”

“He shot one of the
babies
?”

Chase nodded. “Sit tight. I need to rope her and check her out.” He spun his horse and grinned. “This is the cowboy part.”

He fed out a loop from a coil of rope that hung on his saddle and prodded his horse with his heels, whirling a wide loop in the air before settling it over the calf’s head.

As he wrapped the rope around the saddle horn, his horse backed rapidly and pulled the lariat taut. The heifer bawled as Chase slid down from the saddle and grabbed her, hefting her into the air and laying her down on her side. Quickly and smoothly, he bound her legs together. She struggled once to rise, then gave up, laying her head on the ground.

Lacey decided she’d better behave herself. The guy was downright dangerous with a rope.