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“Then go to work for them.” Colt and Jett were the Garret brothers, two former rodeo cowboys who owned the largest ranch in the panhandle. Jackson and Jett had been traveling partners until an injury had forced Jett to retire from the circuit. “I don’t need you or want you on the Circle W.”
“Look, Shannon, can’t we let bygones be bygones? We were kids back then. Kids,” he added again with emphasis. “I didn’t realize I’d hurt you.”
She stiffened. “You didn’t hurt me. You made me mad. No one had ever jilted me before.”
“Who said I jilted you?”
“What other term do you use when a guy calls a girl and says, ‘I’ll catch you later, darlin’,’ and then never does?”
“Shannon.” His voice fell to that honeyed baritone that had talked her into too many things. To her total amazement and eternal discomfort, he stroked one finger down her cheek. “Don’t be mad.”
How was it that she hadn’t seen this man in nearly ten years and yet, he could stroll back into her life, and she felt as though he’d never left?
Yes, they’d been kids, foolish, imprudent teenagers who hadn’t considered the consequences of their actions. He was a rodeo cowboy so she’d known he wouldn’t stick around, and she’d promised herself not to be hurt once he was gone. And she wouldn’t have been, except for what he’d left behind.
“All that happened a very long time ago, Jackson. I’m not mad. I’m not hurt. I’ve simply grown up and moved on.”
“Then why the chilly reception?”
“Maybe I was surprised to see you after all this time.”
He laughed, appreciating the ironic understatement. “Maybe.”
“I’m too busy with the future to revisit the past, so if you don’t mind…” She waved a hand around at the small ranch, the barns, the corrals, the modest brick house snuggled between two thick pines. “I have work to do.”
“Show me the way.”
“Excuse me?”
“Work is why I’m here, remember? Your granddad hired me?”
Shannon stewed over that little piece of information. Though she’d grown up here, her grandfather was the true owner of this place. But since his heart attack six months ago he’d let her call the shots. That he’d hired Jackson Kane irked her no end, but they’d been thinking of taking on a hand and Granddad couldn’t know that Jackson would be a problem for her. After all, their brief fling had happened a long time ago.
Yes, she needed more help now that Granddad was no longer able to carry his weight, but Jackson? She didn’t think so.
“Then perhaps you should get your duties from him. I don’t need you.”
Jackson removed the lollipop from his mouth and studied the now empty stick. “He said you needed some help breaking these new colts and from the looks of that paint, I’d say he was right.”
“I stayed on him way more than eight seconds. In a rodeo arena, I’d have won money. Would you have?”
“Guess we’ll have to find out.”
“Guess we won’t,” she said with a hint of mocking sarcasm. “Breaking the horses is my job. I’m the trainer. And that paint happens to be a special case, more difficult than most, but I promised his owner he’d end up as gentle as a dog. I’ll keep that promise no matter how long it takes.”
“There are new techniques available. Have you tried any of them?”
She shifted, uncomfortable under the growing heat and annoying buzz of buffalo gnats as well as his assumption that her training techniques were lacking.
“What are you? A horse whisperer or something?”
His mouth kicked up and brought with it that insolent dimple. “Maybe.”
“Well, I happen to know what I’m doing. Granddad taught me to break horses from the time I could ride. His methods worked then and they work now. I don’t need some rodeo cowboy turned horse psychologist to tell me how a horse thinks and why he behaves the way he does. Breaking that paint is a matter of wearing him down.”
“Mind if I give him a try?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I do mind.” So what if he’d spent most of his life riding broncs, both saddle and bareback. He wasn’t a trainer. He was a rodeo performer. She could do this job better.
He shrugged. “Have it your way, but you’re paying me a salary whether I do anything or not.”
“Consider yourself unhired.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t look one bit contrite. “Your granddaddy hired me. He’s the only one who can fire me.”
Shannon rolled her eyes heavenward. “I need to have a talk with my grandfather.”
Jackson slouched against the paddock gate, unwrapped another Dum-Dum—a green one this time—and shot her his cockiest smile. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
Jackson tipped his hat back and watched her go, admiring the cute little jiggle of her perfect backside encased in tight jeans. The worn spot between the pockets where she’d spent hours in the saddle was especially appealing. Not that he’d tell sweet Shannon that. She’d likely punch him in the nose.
She’d changed in ten years. And he sure wasn’t complaining about that. At eighteen she’d been a girl, fresh as the outdoors and full of promise. The promise had been fulfilled. Today she was all woman, rounded in the right spots, and full of vinegar. He liked a little fire and sass in a woman. Shannon with her blue eyes and sun-blond hair barely reached his shirt pocket, but she could definitely hold her own. He looked forward to reminiscing in a more practical manner.
But first he’d have to get past that bad attitude she had toward him, a reaction that surprised him. He’d had no idea he’d left a burr under her saddle. Sure, they’d played around back then, had a good time, but it wasn’t as if they’d been in love. Love? He almost shivered in spite of the warm day. They’d only spent a summer together, and at nineteen he hadn’t known diddly about love. To tell the truth, he was nearly thirty and he still didn’t know anything about the troublesome emotion. Didn’t want to know either.
What he did know about was horses. And her grandfather had sense enough to know that if he was ever going to expand his training and breaking facility he needed a top-notch trainer. Shannon may not like change, but her ideas were as antiquated as a crank telephone. He, on the other hand, had spent years studying under the best so-called horse whisperers, gleaning their techniques, adding some of his own. And he was good, though only a few knew it—so far.
During his rodeo years he’d helped other cowboys with rank mounts, but he’d had no real chance to prove himself in a larger capacity. That was all about to change.
From the moment he’d discovered Aunt Bonnie’s financial troubles, he’d made up his mind to come back to Rattlesnake and help out. After all, she’d been there for him when he was four years old and his mother had jumped ship, leaving his bewildered father to raise a child alone. The kicker was Bonnie was his dad’s aunt, not his, but she’d rearranged her entire life to raise him. She’d tossed over her job and had even waited to marry until Jackson was a teenager and old enough to look out for himself. He owed her big time.
He didn’t have a lot of money, but regardless of what he had to do, nobody was foreclosing on his aunt’s small home.
This job would help. And it would also propel him toward his dream. Though he’d shared the vision with no one else in case he fell on his face like a fool, Jackson had a dream that had kept him going for a long time. Someday, he’d run his own symposia on horse training and people would come from all over the country to have Jackson Kane teach them his methods. He’d take the rankest horses in the land and turn them into docile pets, well-disciplined ranch animals or fine rodeo stock.
In the meantime, he’d find a way to save Aunt Bonnie’s home and make sure she was well taken care of in her old age. That was the least he could do.
The paint gelding Shannon had called Domino wandered back toward the arena, anxiously eyeing the cowboy but clearly hoping to make his way back inside the shady barn. Jackson gnawed at the sour-apple candy and held back a smile. Old Domino had a weakness. He wondered if Shannon had noticed.
Emitting a low whistle, he waited for the horse’s reaction. As he suspected, the paint stopped dead still, flicked his ears forward and winded the strange cowboy.
Patience. That’s what a trainer needed with a horse like Domino. So Jackson leaned against the iron gate, relaxed but watchful, waiting for the horse to come to him.
He didn’t have to wait long. The gelding, tail swishing at flies, ears twitching, lowered his head and plodded toward him.
Jackson extended a hand to stroke the warm, smooth neck and inhaled the rich, animal scent. His chest strained toward contentment.
Yep. This was where he needed to be. Right here where horses were already boarded and ready to train, a ranch with a good, solid reputation. And regardless of Shannon’s attitude or resistance, Jackson Kane was here to stay. At least for the time being.
Shannon knew better than to slam the door. Although she was a grown woman, Granddad would send her back outside and make her close the door like a lady. So even if she didn’t feel much like a lady right now, she paused inside the office door and took three cleansing breaths.
Her grandfather looked up. “What’s got you in a snit?”
So much for her efforts at self-control. “I’m not in a snit, but we do need to talk. Why didn’t you tell me you’d hired Jackson Kane to work for us?”
Her grandfather laid aside his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Since his heart attack, he’d aged, and though he was seventy, Shannon had always considered him a rock until now. She’d been three when her parents had died in a car wreck and her widowed grandfather had taken her to raise. He was all the family she’d ever known and the thought of losing him scared her half to death.
Now she worried about him constantly. Nagged him to eat better, to rest more, and not to worry over her and the ranch. But she knew he did anyway.
“Now that I’m a useless old goat,” he said, “you’ve got to have some help around here.”
“But why Jackson?”
“Why not? He’s a cowboy, a mighty fine horseman, and seems like an honest enough feller.”
“How can you possibly know all that about a man who’s practically a stranger?”
“Colt Garret.”
“Oh.” Granddad would trust Colt Garret with his life. If Colt vouched for Jackson, her grandfather wouldn’t blink an eye about handing him the keys to the ranch.
She tried a new tack. “I’m the horse trainer. I don’t need him.”
“Now, Shannon, the man’s studied under John Lyons and you know dang well Lyons is the best there is. Horse breakin’ and trainin’ is a rough job, a man’s job. Why not let Jackson take over the horses so you can concentrate on running the business end of things. You’re a whale of a lot better at figures and purchasing than I am.”
“A man’s job!” Shannon hadn’t heard another word after that little jab. Of all the insults, she hated that one the most. A female doing a man’s job. All her life she’d battled ignorant horsemen who thought she should be more worried about breaking a nail than breaking a horse. Her pulse picked up. Anger lifted the hairs on her arms.
Granddad must have seen the fury in her. He raised a gnarled hand. “I won’t argue about this. Kane is hired and that’s that.”
All the blood in her body rushed to her head. “And I won’t allow it.”
“Now, Shannon—” Granddad stood up, reaching toward her, his tone cajoling. But he’d no more than found his feet when the outstretched hand grabbed for his chest.
“Granddad!” Argument forgotten in concern for the only parent she’d ever known, Shannon rushed forward to wrap her arms around him. “Is it your heart? Are you in pain?”
“Need to sit,” he managed, short of breath to the point of gasping. “My pills.”
Shannon took his arm and, frightened by the cold and clammy skin beneath her fingers, eased him onto the chair. Then she searched frantically through the desk for his medication, discovering the bottle at last beneath a stack of papers.
She shook out a pill, placed the tiny white tablet under his tongue and waited. From the looks of the bottle, this wasn’t the first episode of pain, but it was the first she’d witnessed.
“Should I call an ambulance? Or take you to the hospital?”
Eyes closed, he shook his head. “Get Kane.”
Kane? The request startled her. Why would he ask for Jackson? A sudden jolt of understanding exploded adrenaline into her bloodstream. Granddad thought he might be dying and didn’t want her to be alone.
Terrified to leave him for even a moment, Shannon had no choice. She raced to the back door and screamed out. “Jackson. Hurry. Granddad is sick!”
Waiting only long enough to see the tall Cajun jerk away from the gate and start in a long lope for the house, Shannon rushed back into the office and to her grandfather.
She sank to the floor beside his chair and laid her head against his knee as she’d done a thousand times growing up. Then the action had been to seek comfort from an anchor of a man who had all the answers. Now she needed to be the comforter, the strong one.
Please, God, don’t let me lose him. I’ll never argue with him again. Ever. If hiring Jackson makes him happy, I won’t say another word against him.
The squeak of the storm door and pound of boot steps heralded Jackson’s entry. If she hadn’t been so frightened, she might have been amused. For a big guy, he moved pretty fast.
He stormed into the room, expression concerned but confident. Shannon breathed an undeniable sigh of relief. She didn’t want to face this alone and somehow Jackson’s quiet strength gave her courage.
“What happened?”
“His heart. He had a heart attack about six months ago. He’s been on medication ever since.”
“Hospital,” Granddad managed to say through pale lips, though his eyes remained closed.
Jackson never hesitated. “Get the SUV,” he said to Shannon. “I’ll meet you at the back door.”
Then he scooped her grandfather into his arms as if he were a small child instead of a hundred-and-sixty-pound adult.
Grabbing the keys from the hook on the wall, Shannon raced for the truck.
By the time she pulled around back, Jackson was waiting. She bolted out of the driver’s seat and opened the back door, helping Jackson ease Granddad onto the empty bench seat. She started to close the door, but Jackson stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“You ride back here with him. I’ll drive.”
Unused to taking orders from anyone, Shannon wanted to argue, but the situation was too serious, and he was right. She needed to be with her grandfather. Any fool could drive. Even Jackson Kane.
Chapter Two
Jackson stood in the waiting room sucking in the unmistakable odor of antiseptic and sick people as he listened to a white-coated lady doctor explaining Gus Wyoming’s heart condition to Shannon. He’d rather smell the back end of a horse any day than the inside of a hospital.
He shifted from one boot to the other and wished for a dip of snuff, though he’d broken that habit more than two years ago. He hated hospitals. Nearly everyone he ever knew who’d gone into one never came out alive—Jett Garret being the exception. And look what had happened to him. Jackson suppressed a shudder. His poor buddy had gone to the hospital and had ended up losing his dream. Never mind that he was deliriously happy with the cute little nurse he’d found there. Jackson couldn’t imagine anything worse than giving up the dream—especially for a creature as undependable as a woman.
“Your grandfather has some blockage in his carotid arteries,” he heard the doctor say and focused his full attention in that direction.
“Is that what causes his chest pain?”
“Yes. And the blockage also causes the shortness of breath when he overexerts himself.” The doctor removed a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and cleaned them against her coat. “If Mr. Wyoming had seen a doctor when he first began experiencing symptoms…” She stopped and shook her head, apparently seeing the futility in what-might-have-beens. “He doesn’t follow doctor’s orders very well.”
Shannon smiled, though Jackson could see the worry hanging on her like a wet saddle blanket—heavy and miserable. She’d been unfaltering since the moment they tore away from the ranch, her strength and constant upbeat chatter in the back seat of the SUV making the trip into town much calmer for him as well as the old man. There would be no hysterics from this little cowgirl.
Regardless of her sexy, all-woman looks, Shannon Wyoming was as tough as a pine knot. Always had been, but in the years since he’d seen her, she’d grown stronger. She had a set to her chin and steely determination in her blue eyes that said she wouldn’t give up and she wouldn’t give in. Much as he hated to admit it, he admired that. Almost as much as he admired her round little backside in a pair of tight jeans.
Her voice and his own common sense yanked him back into the conversation. Better not let Shannon catch him eyeing her behind.
“That’s Granddad. He doesn’t take orders well from anyone.”
Like his granddaughter, Jackson thought. He shoved off the wall and moved up beside her. “Is he going to need surgery?”
