The Littlest Cowboy (13 page)

When Chelsea stepped out onto the front porch, two horses stood saddled and waiting. The gigantic dappled gray one she’d heard Garrett call Duke, and a smaller white mare with a handful of black spots on her rump, who had to be Sugar.

Garrett stood beside the horses, his big hand stroking Sugar’s neck. He looked up at Chelsea, smiled a welcome, but she still had the niggling suspicion this little outing hadn’t been his idea. And that he was less than happy about it.

She eyed the white horse, and her nerves jangled to life.

“Don’t be scared, Chelsea. She’s as gentle as a kitten. Come here.” He held out a hand.

Chelsea went down the front steps and took it. When Garrett closed his fingers around her hand, he stilled for a second, staring down at their clasped hands as if in surprise. He drew her closer to the animal, laid her hand gently on the mare’s neck, where his had been only seconds ago.

Chelsea stroked the animal’s sleek neck and smiled. “She’s beautiful.”

“So are you.”

She looked up quickly, only to see Garrett avert his face and pretend to tighten the girth straps.

“Now,” he said, turning to face her again, “take hold of the pommel.”

Licking her lips, she did.

“Put your foot in the stirrup.”

She drew a breath and followed his instructions.

“Now swing your other leg over.”

She nodded and pulled herself up. But the horse was tall, and she lost her momentum before she got her leg all the way over. Garrett’s hands closed on her bottom, pushing her up, giving her enough of a lift to boost her into the saddle.

She felt her cheeks burn and couldn’t look at him.

“Sorry,” he muttered, handing her the reins. He walked around the mare, checking to be sure Chelsea had her foot firmly in the stirrup on the other side, then mounted his own horse in a move so smooth and effortless that watching him made her feel like a klutz. He held the reins loosely in one hand, and she imitated him. “Ready?”

She nodded once, then Garrett turned his horse and started across the lawn. Sugar didn’t need Chelsea to tell her what to do. She turned, as well, and walked slow and easy beside Duke. They approached an open gate, and Wes, who was standing nearby, closed it behind them after they moved through.

“Squeeze your thighs around her, Chelsea,” Garrett instructed, looking at her dangling legs.

She squeezed, and Sugar shot forward into a trot, causing Chelsea to bounce up and down until her teeth rattled. Garrett caught up to her within a few seconds, grabbed the reins and tugged gently. Sugar came to a halt.

“What did I do?” Chelsea asked, breathless.

“Dug your heels into her side. Just squeeze gently with your knees. You dig those heels in, she thinks you want to run.”

Chelsea tried again, and this time the horse didn’t take off. Garrett handed the reins back to her, his hand brushing hers as she took them. They started off again, side by side, and she knew he was going much more slowly than he probably would if he were alone. They rode into rolling green meadows, and soon she saw the curly coats of the white-faced Herefords dotting the grass in the distance. As they drew nearer, she saw calves running and jumping like children, and docile cows chewing lazily as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

“They’re something, aren’t they?” Garrett remarked, drawing to a halt at a spot where they could look out over part of the herd.

Imitating Garrett again, Chelsea reined in her mount and followed his gaze. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that…peaceful.”

It was true. Sitting here astride this gentle mare, beside this gentle man, with this gentle scene spread out before her, she felt that peace begin to fill her. This was a good place, this Texas Brand. A magical place. The vivid blue sky stretched wider than she’d ever seen it. And the sun beat down just as Jessi had predicted it would. Heat poured through her flannel shirt, and her skin dampened and prickled. Very carefully, she shrugged the shirt off one arm, but only got it partway down her shoulder before the horse danced a little, and she had to make a grab for the pommel.

“I…uh…” Garrett’s horse sidled closer to hers. “I can get that.” He reached out with one hand and pushed the shirt down her arm. She let go so he could tug it off, then held on with her other hand as Garrett’s big, callused one pushed the shirt down from her opposite shoulder. His palm skimmed her arm all the way down, and she shivered. She closed her eyes without quite realizing she was doing so. She sensed him taking the shirt, and when she opened her eyes, she saw him staring at her. There was something in his gaze. Something new…and a little scary.

He blinked it away, tucking the shirt in front of him on the saddle, then nudged his horse into motion once more.

For an hour, they rode in silence, and Chelsea took in the beauty and tranquility of the surroundings. The only sounds were the steady tromping of the horses’ hooves, the creak of saddle leather, and once in a while, the gentle blowing sound made by the horses.

Garrett tugged Duke to a stop when they came to a small stream with a couple of trees on the far bank. He dismounted in one smooth motion and came to her side. “Better take a break,” he said.

“Oh, but I’m fine.”

He smiled, a big lopsided smile that made her stomach clench tight. “You think you’re fine. But believe me, you’re working muscles you didn’t know you had. Come on, get down for a few minutes.”

She nodded. “Okay, you’re the expert.” She braced one foot in the stirrup and tried to swing off the way he’d done. But Sugar sidestepped and she felt herself falling. Then two big hands curled around her waist from behind, lifting her gently, easily down. Her backside brushed over the front of him as he lowered her, and a shiver worked right up her spine. When her feet touched down, he didn’t let go. Instead, his hands remained at her waist, holding her back against his body for a long moment.

“Damn,” he whispered, and finally his hands fell away.

She turned around and stared up into his eyes. Dark brown, gentle eyes that held hers captive.

“Damn,” he said again.

“Why do you keep saying that?”

He closed his eyes, breaking that tenuous hold, but only briefly. “Because I know you don’t like being touched…and right now….” He shook his head in self-disgust. “I’m not good at this kind of thing, Chelsea. I don’t know the kinds of pretty words that make women go soft inside. I’m a simple man, and I’m accustomed to just saying what’s on my mind, straight out.”

“So say it,” she whispered, and her voice trembled, and fear danced in her veins. She felt more alive than she ever had.

“I want to kiss you.’’

She looked into his eyes, then at the expanse of green around them. They were alone here. But for some reason, she wasn’t afraid. She’d never known a man as gentle as Garrett Brand. Not ever.

She tipped up her head and moved closer. “Then…go ahead and kiss me,” she said, her words full of false bravado, but wavering all the same.

Garrett bent his head and touched his lips to hers. He didn’t put his hands on her. He just kissed her slowly and gently, then lifted his head and searched her face.

“Again?” he murmured.

“Yes. Again.”

This time his arms came up around her waist, his hands spanning the small of her back and easing her close to him. He kissed her again, nuzzling her lips until she parted them, then tracing their shape with his tongue.

Chelsea’s pulse raced and nameless feelings swamped her mind. She put her hands on Garrett’s broad shoulders and slipped them around him until her fingers tangled in his hair. She opened her mouth wider, ready now to experience more of this heady thing between them. Her heart pounded in her ears. Louder and louder, and when his tongue slowly slipped inside, it seemed the very ground under her feet trembled with–

He jerked away from her, eyes wide with alarm. And he swore.

“Garrett? Did I–”

“Stampede!”

His cry shocked her…then terrified her when its meaning became clear. She looked, and saw masses of frightened beasts churning the dust toward them. And even as Garrett reached for the horses, they bolted, wild-eyed, feet flying. Garrett’s arm snagged her around the waist, propelling her forward. He shouted something at her, but the thundering hoofbeats of the cattle drowned out even his booming voice. As they splashed across the icy stream, she could smell the terrified cattle. Then her body was thrust against the trunk of a tree, and Garrett’s ground tightly to her from behind, pinning her there. The animals were upon them, knocking into them on both sides, brushing, pushing. She felt Garrett’s body being torn away from her and she turned to see, but couldn’t.

Then she heard a shout and saw a horse at full gallop, pressing through the rampaging cows. A man she’d never seen before sat tall on a sable-colored, wide-eyed stallion. She watched as he bent low, reached down and pulled Garrett up. Garrett seemed to spring from the ground and onto the back of that horse. His gaze was glued to the tree as the cattle flew past, and Chelsea clung to it with all her might as their bodies jostled hers. But one hit her too hard, and her palms scraped painfully over the rough bark as she fought to hold on. Her back bit the ground hard, and she automatically curled into-a ball, covering her face with her arms as her body was pummeled again and again. It felt as if several strong men were surrounding her, hitting her with hammers.

The blows stopped at last. Then the thunder slowly died away. And all that remained was the blackened earth and torn grass and the sound of her own heart beating more loudly than those hooves had done. She uncurled cautiously, every movement hurting.

The rider came forward. Garrett leaped from the horse and ran to her, dropping to his knees beside her. His hands gripped her shoulders, pulled her close to his big chest. She could feel the pounding of his heart there, hear the raspy rush of his quickened breaths.

“Chelsea, dammit, are you all right?” He held her so hard, so tight, she could barely breathe.

He eased back a little when she didn’t answer. Brown eyes flooded with worry scanned her body. His shirt was torn, one arm dripping blood, and there was another ugly cut high on his cheekbone. She lifted a hand toward him. “You’re hurt.”

She heard galloping and jerked her head around, only to see Elliot and Wes approaching at top speed.

“The hell with me! What about you? Damn, Chelsea, when I saw you fall–”

“I’m all right.” She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself to her feet. She hurt. She hurt everywhere, but she didn’t think anything was broken. At least her arms and hands and legs and feet seemed to be in working order.

Elliot and Wes had jumped from their horses and were running toward them now. There was real fear in their eyes when they reached their brother.

“Garrett, are you okay?”

“What the hell happened?”

Garrett shook his head slowly, but his brown eyes narrowed dangerously as they found those of the stranger. “Something…or
someone
…spooked the cattle. Chelsea could have been killed.”

The stranger said nothing. Just sat on that horse, holding Garrett’s accusing stare. He was dark and whip-cord lean, his face narrow and hard, with piercing pale blue eyes that even now seemed deathly calm. As Chelsea stared at him, something fluttered to the ground from his shirt pocket. A small slip of paper. She pointed at it and started to tell him, but Garrett’s angry voice made her go utterly still.

“Who the hell are you, mister?”

“Name’s Lash,” he replied, his face every bit as grim as Garrett’s.

“It wasn’t him, Garrett,” Elliot said quickly. “He was with us.”

Garrett gave Elliot a brief glance, then turned a questioning one on Wes.

“Elliot’s right. Lash drove in right after you two left. Said he was looking for work. Since we’re shorthanded, I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea, and he was in a hurry to see you, so we saddled up and rode out here to run it by you.”

“And it’s a damned good thing we did, Garrett,” Elliot added. “If Lash hadn’t cut through that mess of frantic beefers to pull you up, you’d be hamburger.”

“He saw you go down,” Wes added. “We didn’t.”

Garrett heaved a thoughtful sigh, but his eyes remained wary. He walked over to the stranger, who’d dismounted by this time, and offered his hand. “Seems I’m indebted to you.”

The man shook Garrett’s hand. “You can repay me by hiring me on.”

Garrett scowled. “Wish I could, friend, but this is a bad time–”

“Garrett, we could use the help.”

Garrett turned to Elliot with a look that clearly told him to shut up. Elliot pursed his lips. “Hell, I’ll go see if I can round up the horses.” He headed for his own horse, jumped back into the saddle, wheeled around and rode off, leaving no one in any doubt as to his opinion of Garrett’s decision..

Chelsea wondered why Garrett would be so distrustful of the man who’d probably saved his life. She knew Elliot was right. How many times had she heard them talking about how shorthanded they were right now?

“Like I said, it’s a bad time,” Garrett repeated, turning back to the stranger.

“I’m a good hand,” Lash returned easily. “But if it’s a bad time, it’s a bad time.” He shrugged as if he could care less. “You want some help herding those cattle back where they belong?”

“We can handle it.”

“I got nowhere to go.”

Garrett frowned. It wasn’t like him to be rude, though Chelsea assumed that nearly being trampled to death would make even a saint grouchy.

“Fine. Ride along if you want.” Elliot was riding toward them now, flanked by Duke and Sugar. Garrett returned to Chelsea and lifted a tender hand to push her hair away from her face. “You sure you’re okay?”

“A few bruises, I think. Nothing serious.”

“You up to the ride back to the house?”

She swallowed hard, but nodded. How else was she going to get back?

“The hell you are,” he muttered.

Elliot jumped off his horse and led the other two mounts over to Garrett and Chelsea. “Garrett, why don’t you take her back? The three of us can handle the cows. They’ve stopped running already. Tore through the north fence line, though. We’ll drive ‘em back in, repair the fence and meet you later at the house in time for lunch. All right?”