Читать книгу The Cowboy Meets His Match - Meagan McKinney, Meagan McKinney - Страница 11

“You’ll ride this one,” A.J. informed Jacquelyn in a curt tone that bordered on surly.

He led one of the geldings down the short ramp behind the trailer.

“It’s a good animal, but tricky as a redheaded woman. Watch him, especially when you cinch the girth. He likes to hold in air so he can dump the rider later.”

She studied the unlikely steed. The mustangs, with their stunted stature and barrel chests, struck her as ugly, ungracious animals. But they did have impressive muscle definition and powerful haunches.

“Yours is called Roman Nose,” he added. “He was named after a renegade chief who led the Cheyenne Dog Soldiers in this area.”

“I know who he was,” she answered, impressed with his knowledge but unwilling to show it.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Y’all do research, don’cha?”

By now she was too dismayed to rise to his bait. The mountain ride wasn’t the most brilliant endeavor she’d ever agreed to, but she was stuck with it now.

Or was she? She glanced all around, trying to decide if she was really going to do this.

The spot hardly seemed like an auspicious start to a ride Hazel promised would change her life. A.J. had referred to this area as a “jumping off place”—a little foothills hamlet called Truth or Dare, population 740. Last century it had been a stage-relay station. Now it was the last cluster of gas stations, restaurants and motels before the short-grass foothills gave way to the riotous upheaval of the Rocky Mountains.

“Heads up!” he shouted. He had moved to the bed of the truck and was tossing out supplies. Despite his warning, the pack he’d tossed toward her rolled into her legs hard enough to almost knock her down.

“Look,” he told her, his face granite edged. “I ain’t talking to hear my own voice. Pay attention! I said to start rigging your horse. You’ll have to adjust those stirrups for your legs.”

She sent him a resentful stare. Then she lugged the worn saddle over to where she’d tethered Roman Nose in a patch of lush grass. They were leaving A.J.’s truck and trailer parked safely in a lot behind a gas station on the western edge of town. From here the mountains were so close she could clearly make out the blue columbine and white Queen Anne’s lace dotting their lower slopes.