A Cowboy To Keep. Karen RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
noses. Others gazed out across the vast property, absently munching hay from pasture feeders.
If only she felt as peaceful as they did.
Her damp palms pressed on the soft-wood rail as the clear sky hovered above her like an accusation. Jackson Cade threatened everything. She’d love to chase him off, but couldn’t go against her employers’ wishes.
No. She’d just have to help him find Smiley to clear up this confusion and get him to leave as soon as possible—and not only because of her fear, but because of her unsettling interest in him.
One by one the horses lifted their heads to study a black pickup as it barreled through the front gate. Her pulse slammed. Jackson? While the kitchen, groundskeepers and housekeeping staff had arrived this morning and gotten straight to work on the twenty cabins dotting the five-hundred-acre property, most of the wranglers wouldn’t show until tomorrow.
The tall man emerged, wearing a fitted white T-shirt, an unbuttoned plaid shirt rolled up over his forearms and faded jeans, moving with the careless grace of a rider. His lightning-bolt scar flickered across his cheek. It added to his menace, but also made him look vulnerable somehow. An enigma. A puzzle she wanted no part of figuring out.
“Miss me?” he drawled when he reached her. He stood, broad shouldered and slim hipped, his back as straight as a pine tree. Thick-lashed, brown eyes peered down at her, the gleam in them hard to decipher. Other than his scar, his features were regular, his lean face strong and bronzed, but adding to this was a steadiness of expression, a restraint that, despite his sarcasm, seemed to hide sadness.
She turned and propped her boot heel on the fence, trying to rein in her galloping heart. “I missed your back. Wouldn’t mind seeing it again soon.”
“Well. That makes two of us.” He lifted his wide-brimmed hat to catch the small puff of wind that stirred the rising heat. His wavy brown hair lay flat against his skull. A bit of it flipped upward at the tops of his ears where his hat must end. “Till then, I guess I’m your new wrangler. Name’s Jack and you’re Dani.” His voice was as deep as she remembered, but sort of warm in the middle. She nodded. “You’ve spoken with Larry and Diane?”
“Yes.”
She moved around him, restless, and noticed that he turned with her. Had she aroused his suspicions already? It seemed unlikely, but his need to keep her in sight jangled her nerves. “They asked me to give you a tour of the place.”
He resettled his hat. “I’m fine on my own. Would appreciate a mount, though.”
She tried on the tempting idea of avoiding him for size, then rejected it. “I can’t go against their wishes. Let’s saddle up. Any preferences?”
She flicked her eyes sideways as he stepped closer and studied the herd. He had a strong brow, straight nose and square jaw—a rugged profile that seemed carved right out of the jagged-topped Rockies. And why was she staring at him?
“That white mare.”
Following his point, she spotted his choice. Regret settled in her gut as she eyed the large horse who stood alone on the far side of the pasture, grazing. “She’s a bucker, dangerous to approach and not pasture sound. When the Mays return with her replacement, she might have to be euthanized.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Doesn’t look skittish.”
“No. Milly used to be one of our best horses until some idiot rode her through a storm. Scared her. Now she won’t let anyone on her or near her.” Not even Dani, to her profound grief, though she’d tried and tried and tried.
She blamed herself for what’d happened to Milly. She’d allowed an inexperienced kid to take her out, trusting Milly’s experience and temperament. And it brought back every bit of guilt she still felt over Dolly’s injury and death. She loved horses with a passion, and when she failed them, it cut to the bone.
“I wouldn’t let anyone near again, either.” He rubbed the back of his neck. She tried meeting his eye but something about its steely sheen unsettled her. It was almost like he looked right through her. Inside her. “You pick, then.”
Guessing it was a rhetorical question, she asked, anyway. “How much riding experience do you have?”
“I was on a horse before I could walk.”
Of course he was. She kept her eye roll in check and pointed at a buff-colored gelding with a black forelock and mane. His head drooped over the side of the fence and he stared at the distant hills. “Pokey will do.”
“Pokey?” One thick eyebrow rose, a skeptical light in his eyes. “Hope I can handle him.”
“Guess we’ll see.” She felt a grin come on and caught it. Getting friendly with a bounty hunter was not on her bucket list. Not even close. “But we can’t ride them until we catch them.”
“Which is yours?” he asked when they returned from the barn, halters and leads in hand.
She unlatched the gate and slid inside, careful not to make any fast moves. “Storm. The gray mare with the white stockings.”
“She’s a beauty,” he murmured in her ear, and a jolt of awareness rocketed through her. Before reaching Pokey, he stopped near Milly. Her nostrils flared as she blew, backing up a couple of steps, her ears flattening.
Poor, sweet girl. She’d been born and raised on this ranch. Deserved a better fate than what awaited her. From her own experiences, Dani knew how just one incident could be enough to derail your entire life. She hadn’t stopped praying for divine intervention to get Milly back on track and save her, since Dani hadn’t been able to do it herself.
To her surprise, Jack extended a hand, an apple in his palm. Milly’s head rose and she eyed the fruit down the length of her muzzle. After a long minute, where Dani held her breath and Milly stood still, Jack dropped the treat on the ground and headed for his mount. Milly watched him leave before she edged closer, snatched up the fruit and retreated to the corner of the pasture she preferred.
Phew.
That could have gone very badly. Horribly, considering the thrashing she’d once seen Milly give an overconfident groundskeeper who’d ignored the signs of her agitation until he found himself on the wrong side of her hooves.
What inspired Jack’s daring, unexpected act of kindness?
She puzzled over it while they finished tacking their horses, mounted, then headed out of the corral.
“This is the main house where our guests eat. There’s also a rec room and the second floor has rooms, too.” They passed a large, two-story log-cabin-style building with a wraparound deck that expanded on the side to a thirty-by-fifty-foot space. “We hold our barbecues, line dancing and bingo nights out here.”
A riding lawn mower, driven by a red-faced man, hummed by on the field separating the main lodge from the pasture. It kicked up the smell of fresh-cut grass and gasoline with each passing sweep. Pokey jerked his head and stepped sideways. Whatever Jack’s reply might have been evaporated as he worked to control the spirited animal.
At last the machine droned farther downfield. “Pokey, huh?” His narrowed gaze flicked her way.
“Not having trouble with him, are you?” Innocence oozed from every syllable.
“No. Enjoying the ride, thanks,” he insisted through gritted teeth, his words sounding a bit winded as he settled the horse.
“We aim to please.”
“So...Pokey...”
“It suits him, don’t you think?”
A quick laugh escaped Jack, a low, husky sound that set off a fluttery feeling in her stomach. “He’s a little hot, but nothing I can’t handle.” His knowing look got her flustered.
With the horses in hand, they continued past the hay barn, Pokey and Storm brushing noses. She lifted