Cowgirl, Say Yes

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“No,” Tess said, “and you aren’t going to lay one finger on a helpless animal again, either.” She stood over him with booted feet spread and planted, arms crossed. “How much?”

“What?”

“You heard me. How much for the horse? And don’t try to gouge me, or I’ll go ahead and let the sheriff handle this. You and I both know he won’t be leaving with a warning this time.”

Clem looked as though he wanted to protest. He glanced over at the chestnut, who remained lying on his side, though Tess and Sharon had already freed the horse’s legs from the rope.

Sharon spoke, quiet anger lacing her voice. “You don’t have to pay this rattlesnake for anything, Tess. You know when the authorities come out, they’ll take possession of the gelding. You’ll end up with him anyway.”

“She’s right,” Tess said to Clem. “Only, I don’t feel like waiting for the wheels of justice to roll. That horse needs me now, so I’ll ask you again. How much?”

“Oh, I don’t think old Clem wants much at all for this gelding,” Wade said, moving to stand beside Tess. “As a matter of fact, I’m thinking that by the time you figure in the cost of vet bills, feed, et cetera…” He waved a hand in the air, as though calculating. “Why, I’m pretty sure this check ought to cover it.” He slid his checkbook from his pocket and scribbled out a good portion of what he’d gotten for the saddle that day. “I mean, considering the fact that if we do call the sheriff out here, you’re going to be facing a mighty stiff fine besides having your horse taken from you…well, you get my drift, don’t you, Clem?”

Clem’s face turned the shade of a purple cabbage. “Yeah, I get your point,” he said. He stood and dusted off the seat of his pants.

Wade signed the check and tossed it at him. “I trust you’ll call the brand inspector in the morning.” According to Colorado state law, no sale of a horse could be complete without the brand inspector examining the animal. “Oh, and one more thing.” He pointed a finger at Clem’s chest. “If I ever hear so much as a whispered rumor about you treating another animal like this, you’re gonna find out what abuse really means.”

Turning his back on the man, Wade knelt beside the chestnut. The horse’s breathing seemed to be coming closer to normal, but he still made no effort to rise. “Hey, fella,” Wade soothed, stroking the gelding’s neck. “You’re going to be all right.” He looked up, straight into Tess’s eyes. Her expression was a mixture of anger not yet spent and gratitude.

“Thanks,” she said. Then she turned to Sharon. “Would you mind calling Doc Baker? You might have to go to the neighbor’s house.”

“I have a cell phone in the truck,” Wade said.

Sharon nodded and headed in that direction. Clem stomped back to the house and slammed the door without another word.

“Want to help me see if I can get this poor horse to stand?” Tess asked. Her green eyes filled with concern and compassion and Wade’s heart raced. He’d figured her for the type of woman who had spunk, but seeing it firsthand…

“Sure thing.” He stepped up beside the chestnut and took hold of the halter, steadying the gelding’s head as Tess tugged gently but firmly on the severed lead rope.

“Come on, boy,” she coaxed. “You can do it.”

“Up you go, fella,” Wade said. He gave a pull, and between their efforts, the gelding scrambled to his feet and stood looking around, wary, shaken.

“Attaboy,” Tess crooned. Sadly, she petted the horse’s neck, being careful not to touch any of the welts that lined his body. “I still can’t believe anyone could treat an animal this badly. No matter how many cases of abuse and neglect I witness, it never fails to make me sick to my stomach.”

Wade stepped up close to her and tilted her chin with one forefinger. “Remind me never to make you mad,” he said. His pulse skittered, both with the aftermath of his anger at Clem, and with the feelings Tess stirred in him.

She fixed her eyes on his, and he studied the look in them, imagining what it would be like to lower his mouth to hers and brush a kiss across her lips. A kiss that might deepen and turn to something more serious. A stroke of tongue against tongue, Tess’s body pressed against his. Warm and firm…

Wade swallowed. His pulse throbbed in his temples with the finesse of a snare drum, and his brain seemed to have gone numb. He pulled back and lowered his hand, pleased by the flicker of disappointment he thought he saw in Tess’s eyes for a brief moment.

“You saved one more, and I’m betting that’s something that never ceases to make you feel good.” Talk about feeling good, he couldn’t think of a time he’d felt better…and it had nothing to do with the horse.

Tess pursed her lips as though tasting the kiss he’d imagined, and the idea that she possibly shared his fantasy set him on fire all over again. For a moment, he thought she was going to say something to him like Make sure you keep your lips to yourself, cowboy—and your lustful thoughts, too.

Instead, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she reached up to touch her bottom lip in a way that he found sexy. He wanted to grab her wrist and kiss those slender fingers of hers, one at a time. Lord help him. He had to stop this. He cleared his throat and forced his thoughts back to the horse and the conversation at hand. “That’s what drives you to do this work, isn’t it?”

“You’ve got that right, cattleman,” Tess said. Then her smile widened. “Looks like Macy has herself a new horse.”

The full realization of what he’d done hit him. Macy was going to go nuts. Wade grinned. “Looks like.” He continued to eye Tess.

A new horse for Macy. And for him, a bad and definite case of the hots for his daughter’s 4-H leader.

CHAPTER FIVE

MACY WHIMPERED in her sleep.

Her arms and legs felt heavy when she tried to move them. Why wouldn’t they work right? She needed to run. Had to warn her mother of the danger that lay just around the bend.

The train tracks crossed the road above, stretching as far as she could see both ways. In the distance the engine’s whistle blew—a ghostly sound that made her shiver. Fighting to get her arms and legs to work, she moved through the thick grass of the field below the tracks. Her ankles caught in each tuft, toes snagging, causing her to stumble. She had to reach the road in time….

Her mother’s blue car grew closer, headed for the railroad crossing. Macy could see her behind the wheel, though her face wasn’t clear. What she saw in detail was her mother’s hands, knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel. She was focused on nothing more than getting home. She seemed unaware of the train.

The car picked up speed. The same car Macy rode in with her mother when they went to the grocery store to pick out cereal and cookies and the big red apples Macy loved. The car she liked so much because it had a huge back seat where she could bounce…up…down…up…while her mother piled bags of groceries all around her until she felt safe and concealed, where she pretended to be a soldier hiding in the jungle of paper and plastic. And the seat belt—when her mother said, “Buckle up, cupcake”—that was really the safety strap that belted her into her fighter jet.

But she wasn’t in the car now, and this wasn’t a game. Macy saw her mother pull up to the railroad crossing and gradually slow. Yes! Macy tried to shout. That’s it. Stop. Just stop, Mommy, please.

She could make out her mom’s long, blond hair, scooped up in a ponytail, just like her own. And then, behind the blue car, a pickup truck came to a halt. Clem McMurty climbed from the truck, his face scrunched and mean-looking. He clenched a buggy whip in one big fist, and he began to snap it in the air as he walked toward her mother’s car. “Go!” he shouted. “Just go.”

No! The word caught in Macy’s throat.

Fearfully, her mother looked over her shoulder at Clem, then back at the railroad tracks. The warning lights began to flash above, bells clanging, hurting Macy’s ears. The black-and-white striped barrier trembled, prepared to lower.

And Mommy stepped on the gas. Sped onto the tracks.

The train whistle blared. The engine was no longer in the distance. It was there. Right there. Bearing down.