Читать книгу Aidan: Loyal Cowboy - Cathy Mcdavid - Страница 16

Chapter Six

Pregnancy suited Flynn. She’d woken up that morning on completely the right side of the bed. Not that her doubts about the future had vanished. Far from it. But she felt good. Happy. Optimistic.

Her exuberance, however, dimmed as her concern for Fancy Gal escalated. The mare was clearly distressed and in pain.

It didn’t take long for her father to separate the mare from the rest of the string, bring her out and tie her to the side of the trailer.

Flynn hovered near Ace as he conducted his examination. She had her suspicions about what ailed the mare and was curious to see if she was right.

“We probably shouldn’t have brought her today.” She stroked Fancy Gal’s nose. Away from her pen mates, the mare was gentle as a lamb and calmly tolerated Ace’s poking and prodding. “She’s nineteen. Too old for competing.”

“Not really,” he said. “If they’re in good health, horses can be competed into their twenties. But if you want to retire her, she’d make a nice broodmare.”

“I hope whoever buys her does exactly that.”

Ace ran a hand along Fancy Gal’s abdomen. “Besides irritability, what are her other symptoms?”

Flynn pointed to the mare’s shuffling hooves. “She keeps shifting her weight.”

“I checked her feet,” her father added, coming over. “No stones or abscesses or any problems that I saw.”

“You won’t take offense if I also have a look?” Ace picked up the mare’s front hoof, braced it between his knees and dug around the soft underside with a penknife.

“I’d think you were a sorry vet if you didn’t.” Her father carefully supervised Ace’s every move. Fancy Gal was one of his favorite horses, too.

Ace repeated the process with the remaining hooves. “They look fine.” He took a step back and considered the mare. “Any signs of colic?”

“Nope.”

“Yes,” Flynn interjected. Colic was her guess. “She’s been biting her flanks.”

Ace placed his ear against Fancy Gal’s abdomen.

Flynn held the mare’s head firmly in place. Fancy Gal might be a lamb but sick animals often spooked and behaved out of character.

Ace straightened, his mouth set in a firm line. “Sounds like a war zone in there. I don’t think you should compete her today.”

“Poor girl,” Flynn cooed, and scratched Fancy Gal behind the ears.

“Have we caught it in time?” her father asked.

He had reason to be concerned. Several years ago they had almost lost a prize gelding to a sudden and aggressive case of colic.

“I think so,” Ace said. “Can you arrange for a separate stall or pen? She shouldn’t be with the other horses.”

“I’ll talk to the barn manager.”

“I can walk her,” Flynn offered when her father left.

When their gelding had colic, she and her father had taken turns walking him all through the night. It had probably saved the gelding’s life.

Ace shook his head. “I’d feel better if you got one of the men to do it.”

“Fancy Gal won’t hurt me.”

“Not intentionally.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m going to walk her and—”

“And I’m not stopping you,” he finished for her.

“Something like that.” Flynn squared her shoulders.

Ace’s glance traveled from Fancy Gal to Flynn. “I don’t like it.”

“You have to trust me.”

He groaned as if giving in to her caused him pain. “I’ve got some bute paste in my truck. That should help her with the discomfort.” He promptly returned, a tube clutched in his hand, and administered the bute paste.

Fancy Gal didn’t like the taste or the texture. She worked her jaw and rolled her tongue until the medication had dissolved.

Afterward, Ace accompanied Flynn and Fancy Gal to the vacant pasture on the far side of the warm-up arena. She started to tell him to leave, that she was fine on her own, then reconsidered. She liked him walking beside her. She reconsidered again the third time his arm brushed hers.

At the end of their first circuit, Flynn told Ace, “You should probably go. Your event is the first one after the opening ceremony.”

“If she worsens or shows any other symptoms, call me immediately. I don’t care what I’m doing.”

“We’ll be fine.”

He acted as if he hadn’t heard her. “I’ll stop by in an hour to check on her.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do. You were lucky today. She’s in the early stages of colic. A few more hours, her chances of making a full recovery would be a lot less.”

Whatever personal issues she had with Ace, she couldn’t deny he was a good vet.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, and you just acquired all those horses at the auction…”

“Tell me.”

“Dad’s selling all the livestock. I want Fancy Gal to go to a good home, one where she can live out the rest of her life.” Flynn fiddled with the mare’s lead rope. “She’s really almost never sick. And she would make a wonderful broodmare. I can get you a copy of her registration papers—”

“You want me to buy her?”

“Yes.”

When he didn’t answer right away, Flynn’s heart sank.

“It was a stupid idea.”

“No, it isn’t. I just don’t like doing anything that will make your leaving easier.”

She glanced away, hiding her disappointment.

He took her chin in his fingers and tilted her face to his. “But I’ll buy her.”

“Seriously? Because I don’t want you doing this strictly for me.”

“Of course I’m doing it for you. And she’d be a sound investment.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Flynn threw herself at Ace and squeezed him tightly around the waist with her one free arm.

“Before you get carried away, we should probably talk price.”

“I’ll make sure Dad gives you a smoking deal.”

Flynn sighed contentedly. This hug was so much nicer than the stiff one they’d shared at the fishing hole when she’d told him about the baby.

“In that case, maybe we should buy more of your father’s horses.”

“Oh, Ace.” She stood on her tiptoes and impulsively pressed her lips to his cheek. The familiar scent of him instantly assailed her, weakened her knees so that she was forced to lean on him.

He went still.

Uh-oh. Big mistake.

She was about to pull away when he bent his head and sought her lips.

The kiss, light, tender and achingly sweet, lasted only a few seconds before he abruptly withdrew.

Not again!

Why was he always doing this to her?

Flynn stepped away, only to spy her father at the edge of the pasture, his gaze riveted on her and Ace.

* * *

FLYNN GAVE FANCY GAL one last thorough inspection before permitting herself to relax. The mare was better, nosing around the corners of her pen for a tidbit of hay rather than exhibiting signs of distress.

True to his word, Ace had stopped by earlier and examined her, noting her progress and advising Flynn to continue walking the mare at intervals for the rest of the afternoon, possibly into the evening. He also brought some warm bran mash to settle Fancy Gal’s stomach, though where he acquired it Flynn had no clue.

“I have my connections,” was all he’d admit before returning to the arena.

She glanced at her watch, straining to hear the announcements coming from the direction of the arena. Ace’s event, bareback bronc riding, would be starting soon. She was just locking up the truck when her father strode over. He hadn’t mentioned seeing her and Ace kissing earlier, but she wouldn’t put it past him.

What a mistake! Why did she continually lose her head with Ace?

Unfortunately, there was no going back now.

“Did I tell you Ace drew True Grit?” her father asked.

“Seriously? No, you didn’t.”

The gelding was one of her father’s best bucking broncs—or worst, if you were the cowboy trying to ride him.

When her father began reciting the other bronc/cowboy matchups, Flynn cut him off.

“Ace hasn’t been in a rodeo since last fall. True Grit’s a lot of horse, even for someone who competes regularly.”

“That’s how rodeo works. It’s the luck of the draw.”

Bad luck, Flynn thought. “What if he gets injured?”

“He’s a big boy.”

“He’s also the father of my child. Your grandchild.”

Her father chuckled.

Flynn took off at a brisk walk.

He chased after her. “Where you going?”

“To tell Ace not to compete.”

“What with the way you’re acting, a person might suspect you have more feelings for him than you’re willing to admit.”

“This has nothing to do with me or my feelings.”

Her father’s persistent chuckling grated on Flynn’s nerves.

She seldom ventured behind the bucking chutes where the participants gathered to assess the horses and their competition and to while away the time while they waited—usually nervously—for their turn.

Ace was there, along with his brother, cousins and Austin Wright. The moment he saw her, he broke away and met her halfway.

“Is Fancy Gal all right?” he asked.

“She’s great.”

“Are you all right?”

“Ace, don’t compete.”

“What?”

“Dad told me you drew True Grit. You know his reputation and his ranking.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“See,” her dad said, catching up with Flynn. “I told you.”

“Please, Ace.”

A twinkle lit his eyes. It also warmed her heart.

She was such a sucker.

“Weren’t you just saying I shouldn’t change because we’re having a baby?”

“Yes, but True Grit is—”

“It’s okay.” He reached out and stroked her cheek.

“Promise me.” She closed her eyes and sighed softly.

“I tend to agree with my daughter,” Earl said. “True Grit probably has more giddyup than you’re used to.”

“Dad!” Flynn’s eyes flew open.

Ace let his hand drop and turned to appraise her father. “I might be a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure I can sit that horse for eight seconds.”

“That boast has all the makings of a wager.”

Now Flynn was really upset. “No betting!”

Ace grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

“Flynn mentioned you’re interested in buying Fancy Gal and maybe a few more of my string. I’ve got another potential buyer lined up. Hoyt Cammeron.”

“Yeah?” Ace visibly perked up.

“You last the full eight seconds on True Grit, and I’ll sell you any of my string you want and throw in Fancy Gal for free. You eat dirt, I sell the string to Hoyt, including Fancy Gal if he wants her.”

“You can’t,” Flynn objected.

“You’re on.” Ace stuck out his hand to her father.

“Ace, get over here,” Colt hollered. “Beau’s up next.”

“See you at the stock pens when I’m done.” Ace squeezed Flynn’s arm, then nodded curtly at her father.

“I’ll be there, too. With Hoyt,” Flynn’s father added.

She waited a mere second after Ace left before whirling on her father. “How could you, Dad? A bet? Really? And what’s this with Hoyt? You told me you’d no more sell that man a broken-down pony than any of your string.”

There was that chuckle again.

She groaned with frustration.

“Come on.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the stands. “We’d better hurry before it’s Ace’s turn.”

At her wit’s end, Flynn went with her father to the crowded bleachers where they found two empty seats. Second to the last row, unfortunately. She couldn’t remain still as one cowboy after the other went. Beau did well, his score landing him in the lead. His position lasted only until Austin Wright’s turn. Austin had also drawn a McKinley horse and was the first competitor that day to successfully ride one.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Ace’s name was called.

Flynn gnawed her lower lip as she watched him straddle the fence and sit True Grit. The horse, raring to go, shifted nervously in the narrow chute, bumping into the side panels and tossing his head.

Ace didn’t hurry.

He was too far away for Flynn to see, but she imagined him testing the rigging and adjusting his grip on the handle until it satisfied him. He’d place his feet above the horse’s shoulders, correctly marking the horse before entering the arena so as not to be disqualified before his ride even started. He’d listen to the advice of his brother and cousins and buddies who were clustered together and hanging on the fence.

In the end, he’d trust his instincts.

Suddenly, the chute gate flew open and True Grit exploded into the arena, front hooves solidly planted on the ground, his back ones reaching for the sky. Not the biggest horse there by any means, his claim to fame was his ability to bend himself into the shape of a twist tie while achieving incredible heights.

Today was no exception.

Rocking onto his hind legs, True Grit reared, standing almost completely vertical. Ace clung to the rigging, leaning so far back his head lay against the horse’s rump and the toes of his boots touched the horse’s ears. Even in that impossible position, Ace spurred the horse, urging him to buck higher, buck harder.

True Grit gave it his all, hitting the ground with his front feet and spinning in a full circle with such force, Ace was almost knocked off.

Flynn gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

What was wrong with the timer? Surely eight seconds had passed. More like a full minute.

True Grit executed another gravity-defying buck, his goal to fling Ace over his head and into the stands. By some miracle, Ace hung on.

The buzzer went off. Instantly, Flynn was out of her seat. “He did it!”

Applause and cheers broke out from the crowd as the pickup men surrounded Ace, hauled him off the horse and deposited him—still in one piece, thank God—onto the ground. As Ace walked across the arena, he picked up his hat from where it had fallen and waved it at the crowd.

Flynn started toward the aisle.

Her father grabbed her wrist, waylaying her. “Where are you going?”

To congratulate Ace, but she didn’t want to tell her father that. “Walk Fancy Gal.”

“Don’t you want to see Ace’s score?”

It didn’t matter to her, only that he’d finished. “Sure.” She sat back down.

A few seconds later, Ace’s score was blasted from the speakers while simultaneously appearing on the scoreboard.

“Eighty-three,” her father muttered. “Not great, not bad.”

“Pretty good for someone who only competes occasionally.”

“I’m glad to see him get Fancy Gal and whatever other horses he wants.”

“Not Hoyt Cammeron?”

“Hoyt was never interested.”

“What!” Flynn stood, braced her hands on her hips and glared at her father. “Then why the bet with Ace?”

“It was for you.”

“Me?”

“I wanted to see how bad he wants you. How hard he’s willing to fight.”

“This was about the horses,” she insisted.

“No, it wasn’t. And he knows it, too.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe so.” Her father wore a smug smile. “But now we have an answer.”

* * *

ACE REACHED FOR HIS RINGING cell phone, groaning in agony as every muscle in his body rebelled. Gracie’s number appeared on the display. “Yeah,” he barked.

“You said to call you when Flynn McKinley arrived.”

“Thanks. Have her meet me at the main paddock.” He disconnected, let his phone drop onto the mattress and didn’t move for a full two minutes.

Finally, when he’d mustered enough strength, he pushed to a sitting position with the agility of a ninety-year-old man and lowered his feet to the floor.

Two days since the Western Frontier Pro Rodeo, and he still hurt like a son of a bitch.

Lasting eight seconds in bareback bronc riding and winning his bet with Earl had been great. Finishing in seventh place and beating out his brother and cousins, even better. He didn’t even mind buying a steak dinner for his friend Austin, who’d finished second.

Thank goodness Ace hadn’t qualified for the finals on Sunday. He’d be a cripple. Colt, Beau and Duke had been left with overseeing the loading of the livestock for the long, long return trip home during which Ace had suffered their endless ribbing. Deserved ribbing.

What had made him think he could compete once or twice a year and not come away feeling as though he’d gone for a joyride inside a cement mixer?

Rising from the bed, he tucked his shirt into his pants, put on his boots and grabbed his hat off his dresser. Break time was officially over.

He hobbled through the adjacent sitting area and out a door that lead to an enclosed patio. Some years ago, when it became apparent Ace would be staying on the ranch and helping his mother, he’d remodeled two of the downstairs bedrooms into a master suite with a private outside entrance. That way he could come and go at all hours, one of the hazards of being a vet, without disturbing the rest of the household.

Plus, Ace liked his solitude—until lately, anyway.

Waking up next to Flynn had been nice, her smooth, warm curves snuggled next to him, her hand folded inside his even in sleep.

Then he’d realized what a mistake he’d made. Not sleeping with her, but letting her get close. Letting her glimpse the raw need he ruthlessly kept concealed behind a competent, take-charge exterior.

Ace wasn’t weak like his father had been. He wouldn’t use alcohol or berate others to compensate for his insecurities.

His Polaris sat parked beside the patio entrance in its usual spot. The all-terrain vehicle was his usual mode of transportation around the ranch when not riding a horse.

There would be no riding horses for several more days if the ibuprofen he’d been swallowing like Halloween candy didn’t kick in soon.

Starting the Polaris, he drove to the paddock, the same paddock where they’d put Wally Dunlap’s mares after the auction. The drive took only a few minutes. A bumpy, excruciating, teeth-grinding few minutes.

He expected to find Earl or one of the McKinley hands with Flynn, only she’d come by herself.

“Thanks, Gracie,” he told the ranch hand after crawling out of the Polaris.

She picked up on his cue. Striding toward the barn, she said, “See ya later, Flynn.”

“Geez, Ace, are you all right?” Flynn gave him a concerned once-over, taking in his bent posture.

“It’s nothing.”

She covered her mouth and laughed.

“Not funny.” He went to the back of the horse trailer and inspected the five mares and one gelding inside, Fancy Gal and True Grit among them.

“It is too funny.” She came up behind him, trying not to smirk. “That’ll teach you to bust broncs without getting into condition first.”

It would. If he were smart, he’d quit rodeoing for good. He couldn’t afford to be laid up.

Unless he and Flynn had a son. Then he’d teach their boy everything about horses and cattle and ranching and rodeoing. On second thought, he’d teach the same things to a daughter.

A fresh wave of determination surged inside him. There would be a new generation of Harts. Rebuilding their flagging business, securing the future, took on a whole new meaning. As did carrying on family traditions, instilling in his children a love and respect for the land and the animals that inhabited it.

Wait a minute. Children?

Who exactly was he planning on having more children with? Flynn had turned down his marriage proposal. She was also moving to Billings.

He unlatched the rear door on the trailer, suppressing a groan.

“Wait, I’ll help.” Flynn reached for the handle and instantly withdrew when their hands touched. “You, um, don’t want to injure yourself any worse than you already have.”

There’d been a time when she wouldn’t have been jumpy around him.

Was that a good sign?

“Cut me some slack,” he joked in an attempt to relieve the awkwardness. “I’m getting enough grief from everyone else as it is.”

He opened the trailer door, wincing at the pain. Maybe he should have accepted her help.

Eventually, all six horses were unloaded and exploring the paddock. Ace and Flynn stood side by side at the fence, watching them.

“You picked the best from my dad’s string,” she observed.

“Yeah.” Ace was pretty happy about his selection. Several of the horses were nothing special to look at, but they could buck, and that was what counted. “Fancy Gal have any more problems with colic?”

“None, and I’ve kept a close eye on her.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. Fantastic, in fact.”

“No nausea?”

“A little last night.”

“When’s your next doctor appointment?”

“May first.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Flynn pushed off the fence. “There’s no need.”

“I want to.”

She started back toward the truck.

Ace caught up with her, though it was with some difficulty. “What’s the matter? You don’t want me to go?”

“It’s not that.” She shoved her hands into her down vest pockets. “What’s going to happen when I leave?”

“With your doctor appointments?”

She sighed. “The more attached you get, the harder it will be.”

“I’m going to be attached to my kid.”

“I was talking about me.”

“We agreed we’re going to try and get along. Do things together.”

“Getting along doesn’t include kissing.”

She had him there. “Was it so awful?” he asked, attempting a wry grin. “You did participate.”

Her defenses visibly shot up. “You’re missing the point.”

“I don’t think I am.” He waited until she’d shut the trailer door. “Don’t go to Billings, Flynn. Marry me.”

“I told you no, and I told you why. Nothing’s changed.”

“You have to admit, there were some pretty serious sparks between us.”

“Sparks aren’t enough.” She gazed at him pointedly. “Sometimes, love isn’t enough. But it has to be there for a marriage to survive.”

“Then don’t marry me, but stay in Roundup. We need more time to figure this out.”

Her expression fell, telegraphing her disappointment with his answer.

He scrambled to gain ground. “Our kid deserves to have both his parents raising him.”

“Couples who live apart successfully raise children all the time. My parents did. Well, my dad did.”

“And he ran a demanding business.”

“But he always put me and my sister first. There wasn’t a single dinner he missed.” Her gaze fastened on him. “Can you make the same promise? Because I won’t consider staying otherwise.”

“I’m willing to change.”

“How?”

“Once the business is operating profitably and the loan is paid down, I’ll cut back on my hours.”

“When will that be?”

“A year. Possibly a little longer.” In reality, it would be more like three years.

“You haven’t cut back in the last ten years,” she said skeptically.

“Yeah, but now there’s a baby on the way.”

“Which is all the more reason for you to focus on your family’s business. It’s your livelihood. I can’t support this baby on my own.”

And he’d promised to take care of his child. He couldn’t do that with only the income from his vet practice. Neither could he saddle his mother with the entire responsibility of managing the ranch and paying down the loan.

His determination returned tenfold. He’d do it all, work and be there for Flynn. Be a better man than his father.

“Give me a chance to prove myself.”

“I am. That’s what we’re doing.”

“If we were married, there—”

“I was married to Paul, and it didn’t make a bit of difference. He still put his career above me.” She headed for the cab of her truck. “There’s no reason for me to think you’ll be any different.”

“I’m going to continue proposing until you say yes.”

“That should be interesting,” she said over her shoulder, “since I’m going to continue saying no until you propose for the right reasons.”

“What’s more important than our child?”

“You should be asking yourself, what’s just as important as our child.”