Shotgun Vows

“Hi, guys,” she said, greeting all the men.

“What are you doing here, Mattie?” Bobby Lee didn’t look too happy. The blond, blue-eyed cowboy’s frown was a big clue.

Her heart fell. That wasn’t exactly the greeting she’d been hoping for. “It’s poker night,” she said lamely.

“Yeah.” Ethan threw his cards down. “But we didn’t think you would—”

“Howdy, stranger.” Bobby Lee smiled slowly and stood up, walking toward her. “Been a long time.”

“Not that long,” she said, confused.

Then she shivered as she felt him behind her. She’d momentarily forgotten. Dawson. He was so close, and the heat of his body warmed her clear down to her toes. The scent of his cologne tied her stomach in knots. Her heart skipped a beat, kicking her confusion up a notch.

“Yeah, it has been a long time,” Dawson answered, reaching out to shake hands with him.

Ethan joined them, just inside the door. “Good to see you,” the young cowboy said.

“Goes for me, too. We haven’t seen much of you since Zane got married and you quit hanging out here with him.” Bobby Lee chimed in. “Dawson, you know Burch Pickett, right?”

“We’ve met,” he said.

The man nodded. “Howdy.”

“Ethan, pull up a chair for Dawson.”

“What about me?” Mattie asked, hands on her hips.

“Oh, Mattie,” Bobby Lee said. There was less warmth in his voice than when he’d greeted Dawson. “I figured you just brought Dawson down here to be neighborly. You’re really fixin’ t’ play cards, are you?”

“That was my plan.” She felt about as welcome as the plague.

Ethan pulled over another chair and put it next to the first. “Here you go, Mattie,” he said. “Take a load off, Dawson.”

They sat next to each other at the round table, at the center of which sat a bowl of popcorn and another of pretzels. Cards, coins and bills were scattered across the scratched wooden top.

While the men were moving around getting drinks and refilling snack bowls, she whispered to Dawson, “Do you know what the money is for?”

“Betting,” he said. “Makes it more interesting.”

She would have to take his word on that. She had a bigger problem. “I don’t have any money with me. Do you?”

He looked at her as if she had pink hair. “Of course I’ve got money.”

“Can you lend me some? Just until we get back to the house?”

“Okay.” He pulled out some folded bills and handed her a couple as he asked, “Do you know anything about poker?”

“Nope. But how hard can it be?” she asked, taking the money.

Ethan handed Dawson a beer and said, “You deal.”

“Where’s my beer?” Mattie asked, anxious to be a part of the whole thing, to experience everything.

“Are you old enough to drink?” Dawson asked, a twinkle in his eyes. “I’d ask for ID if I were you,” he said to Ethan.

“Number one, I’m twenty-one,” she said. “Number two, thanks to you, we’re on foot and not driving. So who cares if I have a beer?” It annoyed her no end that none of the cowboys moved until Dawson gave them a nod.

“Thanks,” she said, when Ethan set the beer can in front of her. She looked at Dawson. “Now you can deal.”

“All right, your ladyship.” He looked around at the chuckling men, then his gaze rested on her. She didn’t miss the challenge there. With supreme confidence he began shuffling the deck. “Mattie has never played before.” The remark produced a series of black looks and barely concealed annoyance. “So let’s start with something simple.”

That was the Dawson she’d come to know and not love. He didn’t have to do her any favors. She made a mental note to give him a piece of her mind later. “No need to go easy on me,” she said. “I’ll pick it up fast.”

He smiled, irritating her with the genuine cheerfulness in his look. “All right,” he said. “No special treatment.” He started to deal, letting the cards land facedown in front of each player. “How about seven card, no peek, roll your own, one-eyed jacks and kings with mustaches wild?” he asked.

Mattie stared at him. “Roll your own? Is this cigarettes or poker?”

“Poker. Do you want me to deal you out?”

“Not on your life,” she said, sipping her beer. Nasty stuff, she thought. But she would drink the whole can and ask for another before she would let one of them know how much she hated it. “I just have one question. What’s this about one-eyed jacks and kings with mustaches?”

Dawson stopped dealing, and quickly riffled through the deck, pulling out the cards in question. He showed her the difference. She nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “You can finish now.”

He buried the cards to everyone’s satisfaction and completed the job. Without a word, Ethan, who sat on Dawson’s right, flipped over his top card. It was a nine of clubs. Then he tossed a dollar into the center of the table. When everyone did the same, she put money in, too. Burch turned over four of his cards, and stopped when he showed a king—clean-shaven, Mattie noticed. He put three dollars on the table, and everyone else did, too. This could get expensive, she thought.

Next Bobby Lee started turning over cards. Since none of them had picked up all their cards, she figured out what “no peek” meant. Then it was her turn. She flipped over four cards before she turned over an ace. She leaned over to Dawson and whispered, “What do I do now?”

“Bet,” he answered.

“On what?” she asked.

“You have the highest card showing.”

“So I win?” She looked at him.

“Not until all the cards are turned over and we see who has the best hand.”

“What’s a hand?” She ignored the groans and sighs from the other men.

Dawson patiently explained. “In poker there are hands—a pair, two pair, three of a kind, full house, etcetera up to the highest, which is a royal flush.”

She looked down at the table again. “It seems sort of foolish to put money out not knowing if I can win.”

“That’s part of the fun,” he said. “But if you don’t want to bet, just say ‘check.’”

“Check,” she answered.

Dawson turned over all his cards and apparently had nothing, because he said, “I’m out.”

They went around the table again. Burch had two kings and two threes—“two pair,” someone said. When it was her turn, she flipped over all her cards and was excited when she saw three aces. All the men groaned.

She looked at Dawson. “Is this good?”

“Yeah. You win,” he said. “All the money is yours.”

“Really?” This was very exciting. No wonder they did it once a week. She scooped up the bills and coins from the center of the table and returned the money she’d borrowed from Dawson. “Who deals next?” she asked.

Ethan picked up the cards and dealt them. The game moved a bit faster, until Dawson had to explain to her again what constituted a hand and what beat what. There was so much groaning in the room, it sounded like a haunted house on Halloween. And when she won the second round, she felt guilty, and tried not to take the pot. But they insisted, albeit angrily. “Beginner’s luck,” one of them grumbled.

“Now who deals?” she asked.

Bobby Lee yawned. “It’s gettin’ pretty late.”

Mattie glanced at the clock. It was only nine-fifteen.

Burch stood up. “I gotta get goin’. See y’all later.” Faster than you could say “lickety-split,” he was gone.

Ethan yawned again and said, “I have to be up early.”

“Me, too,” Bobby Lee said.

Mattie was confused, a state of mind that was becoming increasingly familiar to her the more time she spent in the company of men who were not her brothers. From all she’d heard, these games went on until the wee hours. This seemed very early to break up. And she had just been getting the hang of it. Was Dawson right about the guys feeling that she was bad luck? Or were they miffed because she had all the good luck? Poor sports! She almost blurted that out, but decided against it.

“Guess we’d better go and let these guys get some shut-eye,” Dawson said. He curved his hand around her arm and pulled her to a standing position with him.

She noticed that Ethan didn’t waste any time opening the door. The chill wind blew in, but it wasn’t as cold as the room had been when she’d raked in the last pot. Still, she figured she could be gracious and not let on that she knew they were upset because she’d won. Having so many brothers had taught her a lot about male pride.

“You’re right. I have to get up early, too,” she said, making her way to the door. “I almost forgot. Aunt Lily asked me to supervise some schoolchildren who are coming to the ranch tomorrow. She suggested that I pick someone to help me with them. How about it, Ethan?” she asked, looking up at him. He was tall and lanky. Not unattractive, but not muscular like Dawson….

She wondered where that thought had come from. It was followed quickly by a fervent hope that this sudden hang-up she’d developed of comparing all men to Dawson Prescott was something she’d get over soon.

“Sure, Mattie,” Ethan said. “I’ll give you a hand. If Mrs. Fortune wants me to,” he answered.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll see you in the corral around nine-thirty.” She thought Dawson mumbled something. “What did you say?”

“I said, let’s go and let these guys get some sleep.” Dawson took her elbow none too gently and guided her off the porch.

They started walking toward the big house. Mattie was vaguely disturbed at the abrupt way the evening had ended. Since Dawson had witnessed everything, she decided to risk asking him. “Did it seem to you that the guys were bad sports?”

In the moonlight, she read the wry look he gave her. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ve been around long enough to see them drag to work after a late night of poker. They don’t let an early-morning wake-up call stop them—if they’re winning. Do you think they were upset because I had some beginner’s luck?”

He shook his head. “Nope. It’s the female thing.”

She stared at him. “Define ‘female thing.’”

“Bad luck to play cards with a girl.”

“Then why deal me in at all? Or why mention the game in front of me?”

He shrugged. “You’re the boss’s niece. They couldn’t very well tell you to go home.”

“I just wish they’d been honest.”

Their shoulders happened to brush at that moment and she felt him flinch—or abruptly pull away from the contact. She wasn’t sure which. Before she could puzzle it out, they arrived at her front door.

This was the first time a man had ever escorted her home. That thought produced a nervous sort of feeling in the pit of her stomach. But this was Dawson.

“If I’m bad luck, then you won’t want to help me with the kids tomorrow.”

“I’ll risk it,” he said. “An honorable man doesn’t go back on a promise.”

“Suit yourself,” she said and went inside.

She leaned against the door and thought again about how Dawson reminded her of dynamite. The more time she spent in his company, the closer the match got to her fuse.

Three

The next morning, Dawson leaned against the corral fence and watched Mattie walk toward him, up the slight hill, from the house. She was surrounded by four kids—a girl and three boys. He wondered what the sassy Aussie would say when he told her Ethan wouldn’t be joining them. After clearing it with Lily Fortune, he had volunteered his services so that the young cowboy could better use his time on another chore. Oddly enough, he had derived great satisfaction from taking Ethan out of the equation, but wasn’t exactly sure why.

Ditto on the fact that he was anticipating Mattie’s explosive reaction to the news. That’s what a woman did when her plans didn’t pan out. He’d learned that the hard way. He’d been raised by a mother who’d been dumped for a younger woman, so bad news had been abundant. His mother had become increasingly depressed and bitter—a natural reaction when the man she loved had married an adolescent.

It made him determined not to use any woman and then throw her away. It had also taught him skills to deal with an unhappy female. So he had no qualms about giving Mattie the bad news about Ethan. But before he fired the first salvo for World War III, he enjoyed the sway of her hips and her graceful long-legged stride. He noticed the sparkle in her gray eyes and heard her merry laughter after she bent her head and listened to one of the boys. Dawson remembered Griff saying that she’d never met a stranger. He could see the evidence for himself. She’d just met these kids, and she had them eating out of her hand.

He knew that wouldn’t be happening if she didn’t like kids. And he recalled the other thing Griff had warned him about: she wanted to have a baby. Soon. No matter how ticked she was that he’d canceled out Ethan, it couldn’t be as bad as her brother’s reaction if she ran away with the wet-behind-the-ears cowboy.

Mattie spotted him and stumbled slightly. Then the group continued on until she and her cowboy wannabes stood in a semicircle around him. The kids gave him odd looks, as if they’d been warned about him. She gave him an appraising glance. Saucy. The word described perfectly the way she was eyeing him. And it made him feel like he was a prize quarter horse ready to be put to stud.

Two could play that game. “Something wrong, your ladyship?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow.

“You tell me. Who are you and what have you done with Dawson Prescott?”

He looked down at his scuffed brown boots, worn jeans, and long-sleeved, white cotton shirt. “What’s wrong?”

“For starters, you’re not wearing your uniform. Where’s the white dress shirt, pin-striped suit, red power tie, and loafers with tassels?”

“First of all, I draw the line at loafers with a tassel. Too froufrou. As for the rest, it’s hanging in the closet at home in Kingston Estates.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “The large planned community in San Antonio for the fabulously wealthy.”

“You make it sound like a communicable disease.”

“If only it were,” she sighed.

He glanced down at his boots. “I repeat, is there something wrong?”

“You just look different this way.”

“Different good? Or different bad?”

“Different as in less like a stuffed shirt.”

“Well, thank you, I think, your ladyship,” he said dryly.

She thought he was a stuffed shirt? If he wasn’t on assignment for Griff Fortune, he’d show her a thing or two about stuffed shirts. But the fact was that he was here to fend off the other guys, not to teach her anything about men.

She looked around. “I wonder where Ethan is. It’s almost ten. I did tell him nine-thirty.”

“Actually you told him around nine-thirty. I talked to the foreman. He said he needed him for a job. Since I’m here to assist you with your charges, it didn’t seem necessary to replace him.” He glanced at the kids. The boys were eyeing him as if he had just torched their baseball card collection, and the little girl openly stared at him as if he walked on water. “I’m your only backup.”

“That’s too bad,” she said. “I was looking forward to spending some time with him.”

He felt only a slight twinge of guilt for his part in producing her disappointed look. At least, he thought it was guilt. It couldn’t be jealousy. He wasn’t interested in Mattie that way. Even if she were his type, she was too young. All he cared about was fulfilling his promise to her brother and getting himself off baby-sitting detail. If she found the cowboy type she was looking for, it wouldn’t be on his watch.

But her reaction surprised him. Disappointment was a far cry from the explosion he’d expected. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

And it didn’t much matter. If they got this show on the road pronto, maybe he could get in a couple of hours at the office later.

“So where do we start?” he asked.

“How about introductions.” She looked around at the kids and her gaze rested on the small redheaded girl with cornflower-blue eyes. “Ladies first. Katie Mansfield, meet Dawson Prescott.”

He held his hand out and the girl, who looked about eleven years old, put hers into his palm, squeezing with a surprising strength. “Miss Mansfield, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And this motley macho male crew are Nate Howe, Juan Castaneda, and Kevin Dolan.” She pointed to a tall, skinny blonde, then a husky dark-haired, black-eyed boy and a chubby guy with unruly brown hair. The boys appeared to be about the same age as Katie.

One by one, they shook hands with Dawson. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said.

“Now we need to find you just the right mounts,” Mattie said. “C’mon, mates.”

She lead the way toward the barn, and Dawson’s gaze was pulled to the feminine grace of her walk. The hem of her plaid shirt hitched up a notch, and he got a better look at her curvy rear end. He couldn’t help wondering if she had a small waist and shapely hips to go with those dynamite legs. All the Matilda images he’d been fighting against—legs wrapped around his waist, twisted sheets and bodies entwined—flooded his consciousness with a vengeance.

All those thoughts were at odds with her fresh-scrubbed face and the long blond braid hanging down her back. She was just a kid. And he was her chaperone—not her Casanova. He was abruptly drawn back to the present by a persistent tugging.

“Don’t you just love her accent?” Katie asked Dawson. She took his hand and tugged him forward.

“I do,” he answered. Oddly enough, he meant it.

Inside the barn, Mattie walked down the hay-strewn aisle between stalls. She looked from side to side, tapping her lips thoughtfully. Stopping beside one, she said, “Juan, this one is for you. His name is Buck.” She continued on until she came to a black, beige, and white pinto. “Katie, this is Buttercup. She has a disposition as sweet as yours.”

Dawson watched her pick out two more mounts for Kevin and Nate. Then she grabbed a bridle, handed it to him, and said, “Mr. Prescott is going to demonstrate bridling a horse.”

She tapped her lip again. “He’ll show you on Buttercup. She’s very patient, but—” she gave the kids a serious look “—you must be very gentle with the animals. Treat them the way you would like to be treated. You don’t like it if someone punches or slaps you. Right?”

Kevin nodded. “Juan and Nate do that to each other all the time when we line up at school.”

Mattie glanced at the two who looked guilty. “But you’re not going to do that now. Are you, guys?”

“No,” they said in unison.

She looked at him. “Mr. Prescott, you’re on.”

“Dawson.” He looked at the kids. “It’s all right to call me by my first name.”

Mattie met his gaze. “He thinks Mr. Prescott makes him sound old,” she said conspiratorially to the kids.

“He is old,” Nate said.

“Do you think so?” she said, eyeing Dawson critically. “I guess you just have to get to know him. He doesn’t look so ancient to me.”

Dawson gritted his teeth. He had no problem being gentle with Buttercup, but there was a certain smart-mouthed female who could use a dressing-down. He wasn’t ancient. But the part of him that disconnected from his wounded ego acknowledged that the kid was right. Compared to Mattie, he was old.

He congratulated himself on controlling his temper, while Mattie led the way as they walked back to the multicolored Buttercup’s stall. When they stopped in front of the mare, she looked at the group with sweet, gentle brown eyes. Dawson hated to admit it, but Mattie was right to pick this animal to demonstrate on. Not only that, but being familiar with all the horses in the barn, he knew each one she’d chosen was sweet-natured and pliable. He realized why Lily Fortune had asked her to supervise the schoolkids. Mattie knew her stuff. And she was as good with the kids as she was with horses.

“Okay, listen up, you guys—and ladies,” he added. He didn’t miss Katie’s pleased smile. Too bad his charm didn’t work to tame a certain impertinent Australian miss. “I’m going to show you how this is done, but before you try it, there’s something you have to do. Anyone have a clue what it is?”

“Get a ladder for Katie?” Juan said to a round of laughter from his friends.

“No.” Dawson looked at each one in turn, but they all shrugged and shook their heads. He met Mattie’s gaze, and the sparkle in her eyes told him she knew what he had in mind. “Do you want to tell them?” he asked her.

She nodded. “You must get to know the animal before you try to do anything. These horses are used to a lot of different people riding them, and they’re okay with that. But not all animals are that way.”

“How do we get to know them?” Nate asked Dawson.

“Have you ever heard the expression that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?” Four pairs of eyes looked back at him blankly. Maybe he was more ancient than he’d thought. When he looked into the fifth pair of eyes, he saw laughter. The merriment made Mattie’s eyes very beautiful. The look made him very warm.

“What Dawson means is that you can make friends with the animals by feeding them, gently touching them and talking quietly to them. They respond best to gentle kindness, not fear and intimidation. After he shows you how to bridle Buttercup, I’ll show you where the carrots are kept for feeding the horses. But before we do that, I’ll show you how it’s done so that you don’t get your fingers nipped.” She smiled sweetly at Dawson. “Please continue, professor.”

Oh, good, he thought. Not teacher, but professor. She just had to make him feel that much older. He spread the leather strips so that they could see the configuration and how it would fit around the horse’s face.

“This metal part, called a bit, goes in the horse’s mouth. If you haven’t made friends with the horse, no way will the animal open up willingly. Consequently, no way will you get it in. Observe.” He patted the horse’s neck and crooned to her. Then he put the bit in front of her, and she opened her mouth. He used his palm to push it until she allowed it to settle behind her teeth. “Voilà,” he said.

Kevin scratched his head, which didn’t do his unruly brown hair any favor. “What does walla mean?”

“It means he did it easy as pie,” Mattie explained. “Did you notice the way Dawson pushed the bit in with his palm? He kept his fingers out of the way. Horses can get confused and bite. They don’t mean to hurt you, but it can happen if you’re not careful.”

“You mean accidentally?” Katie asked.

“Exactly,” Mattie answered, as if the little girl were a star pupil. She moved to the other side of the horse and glanced at Dawson. He thought there was approval in her eyes. Obviously she was surprised that he’d passed her bridle test. He knew that’s why she’d asked him to show the kids how it was done. He was glad he’d favorably surprised her.

Mattie patted Buttercup’s neck. “For safety purposes, when you give them carrots, keep your palm flat and your fingers out of the way. Buttercup would feel awful if she hurt you.”

“How do you know that?” Juan asked.

“I can see it in her eyes.” She hugged the horse for a few seconds. “All right. Dawson, you take Katie and Juan. I’ll take Kevin and Nate, and we’ll get the horses bridled and saddled. Meet you in the corral.”

“Right,” he said.

About twenty minutes later, they were gathered in the picket-fenced enclosure. All four kids were mounted on their horses.

“Giddyap, horse,” Kevin said, moving his body in a forward motion.

“Hold on, buckaroo. I need to adjust your stirrups.” Mattie smiled up at the young boy sitting on the horse. “You need to stick your feet in there. If they flap around like wet noodles, it could scare the horse. If the horse is scared, she might run away with you. If she runs away with you, you’ll be scared. If you’re scared, I’m scared. If—”

“Okay, Mattie,” Kevin grinned. “I get it. I’ll hold my horse while you fix the stirrups.”

“Good choice. All of you hold your horses until Dawson and I make sure the stirrups are adjusted to fit you. Okay?”

“No worries,” they said together.

She laughed, and Dawson grinned, too, watching her. She was wonderful with them. Patient and reasonable. The kids responded in kind. Why was she so unreasonable when it came to him?