The Lady and the Cowboy (13 page)

As she lay down
again, she ran her hand up his right leg, from ankle to thigh, grasping his length once again as her lips claimed his. She pumped his length in a similar rhythm to the one he had used on her but he soon had to still her hand with his own. She pulled away, looking curious.

“If you keep that up, I’m going to burst right now,” he explained.

He put his hands on her hips and moved her so that she was on top of him, her legs naturally splaying and resting either side of him. She could feel his length pressing against her and began to rock her hips, even though he wasn’t in a position to enter her, she just wanted the friction.

Sam put a hand between them and guided his manhood to her entrance, leaving it to Ruth to impale herself on him, which she did as soon as she realised his intent.

He began to thrust into her but the angle wasn’t right for deep penetration so after a few minutes, he rolled them over so that he was on top, and plunged all the way in. Ruth held him against her with an iron grip and he stilled for a moment, giving her a chance to get used to his invasion.

When her grip on him
relaxed slightly, he raised himself up on his arms and began to thrust inside her, pleased that she met and matched his rhythm.  He lowered his head to her neck and began to tease her with his lips. He could feel her breathing increase, then the muscles in her slick sheath began to twitch.

“Come for me,” he
whispered, and a moment later her sheath clamped down on him, prompting the release of his own orgasm and he closed his eyes as his seed spilled into her. When he finally regained some sense, he realised that they were both breathing heavily.

He wanted to tell her how he felt
; on top of the world, as if he could conquer the Yankees single handed, but he couldn’t find the right words. Instead he pushed a strand of her hair that had stuck to her forehead, behind her ear and kissed her gently.

Ruth smiled up at him.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“That was amazing. I never realised that it could be that… amazing.”

Sam smiled, pleased to realise that he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t quite coherent at the moment. He laughed and kissed her, making an awful sucking sound and popping noise as he pulled away. Ruth giggled like a child and slicked his long hair back from his face, so she could better see his eyes.

“All right, Sam, I’ll marry you.”

He broke into a huge grin. “You will?”

“On one condition.”

His smile fell a little. “Okay?”

“I’ll
marry you only if we win the Dallas meet in November.” She would marry him either way, but it never hurt to have an incentive.

“And what happens if you change your mind and decide to throw the race?” he teased.

“I guess you’ll just have to keep a close eye on me.” Her expression was of absolute innocence.

“No problem there,” he said, kissing her again. “You have yourself a
deal, Miss Ruth.”

Once Sam had softened and his member slipped from her slick channel, Ruth decided that she really should use the douche. Sam said he’d join her, n
eeding a cool down as well. Ruth tied her hair atop her head with the ribbon and waded into the stream. It was about three feet deep in the middle, with a rock, stone and sandy bottom rather than mud and as she sat down, the ends of her hair drifted about her in the water. She didn’t mind, they would dry quickly enough on the ride back.

Sam helped her with the douche and they ended up washing each other off, which resulted in another round of love making.

When they were finished they climbed from the stream and lay on the blanket, letting the sun and warm breeze dry them off.

Ruth felt so sated that she could almost fall asleep right there, as naked as the day she was born, but Sam made sure they didn’t
sleep. He wasn’t worried about them being discovered but if the sun moved around whilst they slept, they could both get badly burned. Finally they got dressed again, swapping many kisses and caresses, greedily enjoying every last second of their time together, before decorum would keep them from being affectionate until they were married. In all honesty though, even then decorum wouldn’t allow for even married couples to share in a public setting, the kind of kisses and caresses that they were at present enjoying.

Angel ran t
hree races in October, one near San Angela and two more prestigious ones in Columbus and Amarillo. They were all eight to ten days apart so Ruth, Sam and Joe travelled straight from one race to the next, stabling Angel at the racecourse and exercising him on or near the grounds.

It was
unusual for a racehorse to run four races in two months; usually they ran between eight and fourteen a year but Angel was already five, which was old by racehorse standards and he needed to build a reputation quickly. Most horses were retired at age six, perhaps seven but their peak was often at just three years old.

Early next year Sam hoped to enter Angel into some races in New Orleans, which is
widely known as the ‘home’ of Southern racing. If he did well there, then Sam could charge reasonable stud fees for him over the spring and summer, as well as breeding him with some of his own mares, hoping to breed his ranch another winner.

He hadn’t completely decided when to retire Angel, as long as he remained healthy and kept winning, Sam would race him, but the chances of him remaining this fast into his sixth year weren’t great and
Sam didn’t count his chickens before they had hatched.

Angel had heart though
, and that was a priceless commodity in a racehorse. A horse who wanted to win (as opposed to simply being trained to) wasn’t something that you encountered often but for Ruth, Angel always gave his best, even in training.

Angel’s o
dds went down at each meet to 10-1, then 6-1, then 3-1. Ruth placed a $50 dollar bet each time.

By
the third race in Amarillo, Ruth’s secret was out but thankfully, no one seemed very upset by a female jockey; in fact most people looked pleased by the idea. At the moment she was simply something different, an oddity and considering how hard and dull most people’s lives were, what was different was usually exciting. That could change in time, she knew. If she and Angel continued winning, some people would turn against her, perhaps call for an outright ban on women jockeys but for the moment, she felt no ill will.

She
still dressed as she had before; it was the jockey ‘uniform’ after all, the only difference being that she tied her hair at the base of her neck with a blue ribbon, rather that tucking her hair into the hat.

At 1
5 hands, Angel was one of the smaller horses in the Amarillo race and it was a close run thing. Ruth held Angel back, behind a 17 hand bay called Alfonso, who was the favourite, until the final furlong. She gave him his head, squeezed her heels together and tapped his flank with her crop, grinning as Angel sprinted forward.

Alfonso
still seemed to have reserves though and matched his pace. They left the others behind, putting more than two lengths between them and the rest of the pack, but Alfonso and Angel were neck and neck. As they neared the grandstand, the cheering from the crowd seemed to spur both horses on and Ruth could tell that Angel was giving her everything that he could.

They crossed the line seemingly together and Ruth had no idea which horse had won. She slowed Angel to a
canter and looked to the blackboard, trying to see who had won. The steward was still writing the names up though and all she could see was the final letter of the first place name, O. He finished and stepped aside, revealing the name of the first three horses, Voodoo, Alfonso and Lord King.

Ruth stood up in her stirrups and punched the air, causing the crowd to cheer her.

She dismounted and threw her arms around Angel’s neck, patting his shoulder and telling him what a good boy he was.

She
began to hope that perhaps they did stand a chance in Dallas next month.

***

They returned to the farm at the end of October to train Angel for the Dallas meet. Although still hot, the temperatures were finally cooling down, which Ruth was pleased about. Not only because she didn’t like the stifling heat of July and August, but she also thought that being used to England’s cooler temperatures, Angel would probably run better.

They arrived back on the Saturday and as soon as they approached the barns, Sam stopped the horses and jumped down, running to the hay barn. Ru
th could see what had him upset; about a third of the barn was blackened and most of one end had been burned away. She could see that the barn was being held in place with temporary supporting beams, presumably until it could be rebuilt or repaired.

Ben had been in charge
whilst they were away as he had been working here the longest and he came out to meet Sam, looking grave.

She g
ot down from the perch and taking hold of their bridles, led the cart horses over to the barn, not knowing where else the horse box could be stored.

Joe, who had been riding along behind them, had
dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching post. “I’ll take care of this,” he said. “You just get Angel settled.

The hands came to help
him and unhitched the horses, whilst Ruth got Angel out of the box.

She had noticed that
some of the horses were in the paddocks closest to the barns and house, rather than having been put out for the weekend in the larger fields that were further away. She led Angel to his stall, groomed him and left him there, rather than turning him out. When she was done, she went to find Sam, who she eventually found in the office, sitting behind the desk.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, rubbing a hand over his face and looking tired.

They were both tired actually, having been away for so long and the journey home from the railway station in Fort Worth had taken all day. She sat in the chair opposite and waited for him to say more.

“There’s been a lot happening while we were gone,” Sam explained. “Three horses got colic, two of them died. Ben thinks they were poisoned.”

“And the barn?”

“Happened on Wednesday night. Thankfully Raoul is a light sleeper and he alerted the others before the fire really got a hold, or we might have lost the whole barn. It’ll still need extensive repairs.”

“So someone did these things on purpose?” She sounded shocked.

Sam gestured to a table by the door which held a broken oil lamp.

“They found that in the
ashes. Someone wanted it to look like an accident but we’ve never owned an oil lamp like that.”

“And the horses?”

“The first one fell ill the weekend after we left.  The next weekend, two more. They walked the fields to make sure there weren’t any poisonous weeds but couldn’t find anything that could have made them sick. Since then they’ve let the horses out during the day in the paddocks but taken them in overnight, locking the barn doors. Then the hay barn caught fire.”

“Because they couldn’t get to the horses,” Ruth added. “What if they try and set one of the horse barns alight next?”

“Since the barn went up, they’ve organised a watch rota, each man takes half the night.”

It seemed obvious to Ruth that someone was out to get them, but what she couldn’t understand was why.

“Do you think it’s Tobias?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Sam said darkly. “
They have no idea what time the horses were poisoned but he has an alibi for the fire.”

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t pay someone else to do it.”

“True but without proof, the sheriff won’t do anything.”

“So what do we do?” she asked.

“I don’t know what else we can do. We keep the horses close, someone on guard overnight and carry on as usual.”

The sun was setting, casting
the office in a gloomy light, making Sam look even bleaker that he might otherwise.

Ruth got up and came around the desk and sat on his lap, placing loving kisses on his lips. Sam’s arms wound around her waist, holding her in place.

They hadn’t had much privacy since their afternoon by the stream so even although things weren’t ideal, even a few stolen moments were better than nothing.

“We will get through this,” Ruth told him, with far more assurance than she felt. “I simply won’t allow that
blatherskite to beat us.”

Sam smiled at her use of slang, but it was a pale reflection of his usual smile. “Thank you,” he
said, tightening his grip.

Ruth put his head to her breast and just held him, running her fingers through his hair; this
particular stolen moment wasn’t about lust, it was about comfort.

***

Everyone at the farm was on edge and that created an uncomfortable atmosphere. No one knew what would happen next, another fire? Where? The stables? The bunk house? The main house? Or would they find a way to get to the horses?

After giving Angel two day’s rest,
on Tuesday Ruth and Sam got back to training, but Angel could feel the tension in both of them and he just wasn’t running to his usual speeds. It was almost as if, like Sam and Ruth, he was distracted.

They had 12 days until they had to leave to travel to Dallas and they intended to make the most of it, although it was difficult when everyone was so preoccupied.

Of course, the normal business of the ranch continued as usual, with farmers, ranch owners and townspeople stopping in to look at the horses with an eye to purchasing one. Many were coming by just to see for themselves what had happened but Sam tried not to get upset at that. Maybe they wouldn’t buy from him today but they could well in the future, especially once he had shown them what good horses he had.

On the Thursday
whilst Pete was on watch, he raised the alarm by ringing a bell they had set up and they managed to chase someone away. They had no idea what he had planned to do, but they had thwarted him. No one recognised the man but it was a dark, cloudy night, so that wasn’t exactly surprising.

No one was sleeping well even when they didn’t have guard duty, they were all listening for the bell to come running.

Even Mamma’s usual jovial spirit was lacklustre.

Sam ordered the new lumber for the barn repairs and it was arranged that the family and willing friends would come over
on the last Saturday in November and help and in return, they would be amply fed and watered that night.

With so many people, it should be finished in a day, save for repainting the new wood
which could wait for a few more days.

Needing to keep busy, in his free time Sam spent a lot of hours cutting
away the burned wood, getting the barn ready for the repairs. The equipment inside was all chained together which made getting it out harder but at least the tin roof was still up, so everything was kept dry.

With a week to go, Ruth and Sam were exercising Angel.
Ruth had completed her first mile, giving Angel his head only for the final quarter. She approached Sam, who was holding the stop watch, when they had finished.

“He’s slow,” Sam said.

“I think he’s just a little unsafe on the wet ground.” Ruth explained.

It had rained last night and the top soil was a little slippery this morning.

“Okay, canter him around for a while but don’t give him his head; let him get used to the conditions.”

Ruth nodded and headed back towards the tree
that they were using as a starting point. Sam didn’t time these laps, he just watched Angel as he cantered back and forth, trying to see if there was any way to improve his performance over these conditions.

The three shots came in quick s
uccession. Angel put on speed at the first shot, used to equating the sound with the start of a race. The second shot caused him to rear up, kicking his front feet high into the air and screaming. Ruth was leaning so far forward that with Angel’s rear, she was almost standing upright in the stirrups. Angel reared again on the third shot but he didn’t scream this time. Ruth was unable to stay mounted this time, thrown completely off balance. The moment she hit the ground, Angel took off, galloping away as if his life depended on it.