Читать книгу Kissed by a Cowboy - Pamela Britton - Страница 13

Chapter Four

“She’s an odd one, isn’t she?”

Cowboy peered up at him intently.

And you’re getting desperate, buddy, if you’re talking to your dog.

A cute oddball, he amended, watching her walk away, but an oddball just the same.

Desperate straits call for desperate measures.

The words had become his mantra recently. If Bugsy hadn’t pulled up lame... He shook his head in disgust and disappointment. Now he was dead in the water and a fully trained replacement horse would cost a fortune, which was why he’d traveled to Red Bluff this weekend to look at prospects. The equine equivalent to a Hail Mary pass. He had to find a horse that could nudge him over the half-million-dollar mark in earnings. Pronto. If he didn’t... Well, he couldn’t even think about that.

“Come on,” he said to Cowboy.

Two hours later she stood right where she’d said she’d be, out in front of the two-story brown building that served as a horse arena. She wasn’t alone. A woman with blond hair and blue eyes stood next to her.

“Wes,” Jillian said, barely making eye contact. “This is Natalie.”

He glanced at Natalie, offering a “Nice to meet you” before looking back at Jillian and puzzling through why she seemed so cold all of a sudden.

“Wow,” he heard Natalie say. “You weren’t kidding when you said he was good-looking.”

He had a front-row seat to Jillian’s reaction. She flinched, turned on her friend and sharply whispered, “Natalie!”

Now, that was more like it. At least she had some color back in her cheeks.

She thought he was good-looking?

For some reason that made him stand up a little straighter.

“And who’s this cutie?” Natalie said.

“This is Cowboy,” Wes said.

Natalie squatted down to meet his dog. “Hey there, boy. Gonna watch some horses work with us?”

Cowboy barely shot Natalie a glance. His dog only had eyes for Jillian. The canine stared at her as if she held the keys to a room filled with bones.

“We better get in there before the seats all fill up,” Jillian said.

She still wouldn’t look at him. It’d grown colder since that morning. Overcast. Both women wore jackets, Natalie’s made of leather and Jillian’s a black knitted cardigan that hung past her hips to midthigh. It hugged her petite body but didn’t look all that warm, and he knew it would be even colder inside.

“Are you excited?” Natalie asked Wes.

“I’m curious,” he replied. “The horse Jillian chose for me isn’t exactly what I was looking for.”

Natalie nodded. “I know how you feel. She narrowed the field down to three for me, and not a one of them is what I would have picked for myself. But I’ve learned over the years to listen to her. You’ll learn the same thing, too.”

Great, he thought as they headed inside. Two crazy women.

The building had been built in the ’50s. A beige stucco facade on the outside and a concrete floor that seemed to radiate the chill. They were a little late to be finding a seat, most of the grandstands already filled, but they wedged themselves into a spot near the top. Cowboy settled at Wes’s feet. It looked like a sea of cowboy hats from where they sat, as if you could hop from brim to brim and never touch the ground.

“I’m so excited,” he heard Natalie say. She wore her long blond hair in a braid, a brown ball cap on her head, one with rhinestones in the shape of a horseshoe catching the light. The glimmer of the stones nearly matched the blue in her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

“Me neither,” Jillian said, and Wes noticed she’d made sure Natalie sat next to him and that Jillian sat on the other side of Natalie—as far away as possible. “I have no idea how you’re going to wedge in learning to ride a reining horse and continue with your show jumping career, too.”

“Who’s your reining trainer?” Wes asked.

“I don’t have one.”

Wes pulled his gaze away from a horse just entering the arena, an average-looking bay gelding with big ears and a bushy black tail, and shot her a look of surprise. “You’re buying a reining horse and you don’t have a trainer?”

“I am a trainer,” Natalie said.

“You ride English.”

“Yeah, which means I know how to ride.” He tried to keep a straight face; clearly he failed. “You try and ride a horse over a five-foot fence.”

“No, thanks, I prefer to keep my feet on the ground, but I know someone who would take up your challenge.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“A friend of mine. A rodeo performer. I’ll have to introduce the two of you.”

“Rodeo?” Natalie’s look said it all. Yuck. “Can’t imagine anyone involved with the world of rodeo knowing anything about reining horses.”

“You might be surprised.”

In fact, he’d make a point of introducing the two. In the arena a black horse worked—unimpressively, he thought—over so-called trail obstacles that were nothing more than wood poles, tires and plastic bags filled with aluminum cans. The gelding was slow on the uptake, so much so he almost dumped his rider when the man picked up one of the bags.

“That was scary,” he heard Jillian say.

The main arena had been sectioned off into three different pens. The first was meant to showcase the animal’s horse sense—in this case, none. The second was for showing off the animal’s maneuverability. The third was where they would work a cow. The middle ring was the one that Natalie would pay close attention to because that was where the horse would circle, stop and back...along with a few other tasks, all moves that would be necessary at a reining competition.

Less than a minute later a horn sounded, signaling it was time to move. Alas, the black horse didn’t appear to be any better at reining than he was at trail. Meanwhile, a new horse had entered the first ring. There would always be a horse working in one of the pens, something that made watching interesting.

“Here we go,” Jillian said. “This is one of the horses we’re interested in.”

Curiosity made him study the dark bay gelding. Like the horse Jillian had picked out for him, the gelding hardly seemed impressive. No flashy white on his face. No tiny dish head. No thick neck and round butt. He seemed as plain as a brown paper package. He glanced at the catalog. The horse’s name was Playboy Gunslinger.

Each horse had been given ninety seconds to work each pen. The dark bay obviously had a good head on his shoulders, because he didn’t spook at any of the obstacles. He cleared the log poles without a second glance, walked obediently around pylons and didn’t so much as flinch at the bag of cans.

“Well, if I ever need to go on a trail ride, I won’t have to worry about breaking my neck.”

Wes had to agree. He liked the look in the animal’s eyes, too. Even though they were high in the grandstand, he could tell the horse seemed calm and cool, as if nothing would faze him.

A horn sounded again. He sat up a little straighter.

“He’s going to be great,” he heard Jillian say.

Wes almost leaned forward and asked if she’d spoken to the horse personally. For some reason the thought amused him. Nobody could talk to animals, but wouldn’t it be interesting if they could.

Once the gelding stepped into the middle ring, Wes knew they were in for a show. The rider stopped the gelding dead center, dropped the reins and waited for his horse to settle. Even so, Wes could see that the horse waited to be told to go. Like a rock in a slingshot, he wanted to shoot off. Sure enough, the moment the rider tapped the horse with a spur, the animal spun around his hind end so fast that his black mane seemed like streamers of liquid onyx. So fast that the animal appeared to sink low to the ground. So fast that his tail became wound up in his legs.

The audience roared.

“Impressive,” Jillian said.

The rider stopped. Wes wondered if the tall, lanky cowboy on board the animal’s back was dizzy. He sure would be. After a moment or two, he set off at a lope that was both beautiful to watch and clearly comfortable to ride. The horse’s head was low, not too much but enough that Wes knew the animal respected the bit. He was in a snaffle, too, not one of those long-shanked implements of torture known as a spade bit. He watched as the horse changed directions, switched the leg he was leading with as effortlessly as a world-champion horse and continued on with his figure eight.

“I think I need to buy this horse,” Natalie said.

“I think you’ll be bidding against a lot of other people.”

As if hearing him, the crowd erupted, this time at yet another flawless lead change. When the rider headed to the rail and began to pick up speed, everyone knew what came next. Wes held his breath as the animal headed toward the opposite end of the arena at a full-out run. If he’d blinked, he would have missed the cue the rider gave for the gelding to stop, which he did instantly, the horse seeming to sit down, back legs leaving twin skid marks in the dirt.

“Wow.”

It was Jillian who’d spoken but the word was echoed by dozens around him.

“What is a horse like that doing at an auction like this?” Wes asked.

“That’s a good question.” Natalie shot him a glance. “I would expect him to be a futurity horse. He should be out earning money.”

“He was raised on a cattle ranch,” Jillian said. “The kid riding him is the owner’s son. He learned about reining horses by watching YouTube videos.”

Wes’s mouth had dropped open. “He learned all that from a video?”

Jillian leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “Yup. And by studying the rulebook.”

He clamped down on his lips just in time to stop a laugh. Unbelievable.

Whoever the kid was, he had a brilliant career ahead of him as a trainer. The gelding worked the rest of the pattern beautifully. When it came time to switch arenas, Wes expected to be disappointed with the way the animal handled cattle. He wasn’t. He was half tempted to make a bid on the animal himself, except he strongly suspected the horse would sell for more money than he could afford.

“I hope jumping horses pays well.”

Natalie didn’t hesitate. “It does.”

Of course it did. As with horse racing, the people involved had money, and lots of it. The purses for jumping competitions were pretty big, too. He’d heard Natalie had won a big grand prix not too long ago. It made sense that she had the means to afford a nice horse. Yeah, his buddy Colton Reynolds needed to meet her. He’d probably appreciate meeting someone who wasn’t a buckle bunny.

“You’re not even watching the horse I picked out for you.”

Huh? He turned toward the first arena and sure enough, there was the sorrel gelding with the four white socks. He looked tiny beneath the man who rode him, a big hulk of a cowboy with a bushy beard and black half chaps and spurs. Wes disliked him on sight.

You have to buy him.

Jillian’s words reminded him that they did have something in common. They both hated animal abuse. He’d like to rake the man in the sides with his own spurs.

The little gelding barely glanced at the poles in the arena. He seemed unfazed by the bright orange pylons, too, and the audience watching him so intently. Jillian shot him a “See? I told you so” look. When the whistle sounded a little while later, he was curious to see how it would go. Like the man before him, the gelding’s rider paused in the middle of the center arena. He no doubt planned to wow the crowd just as the last cowboy had done, only when he tapped the horse with his spur, the gelding erupted, and not in a good way.

The crowd gasped. Wes came half out of his seat as the demure sorrel gelding turned into the best-looking bronc he’d ever seen. One jump, two, three—the cowboy came off. Wes wouldn’t have been human if he hadn’t found himself amused. The man had it coming with the ice picks he used for spurs.

“Bad horsey.” He could hear the laughter in Natalie’s voice. He shot her a look that conveyed he agreed.

The horse had begun to run around. Much to his credit, the gelding in the cutting arena—the big bay Natalie wanted to buy—hardly spared the little bronc a glance. His owner did, however, stopping the horse as officials ran for the man who lay in the arena. The cow the bay horse had been working ran up the rail nearest to the riderless horse, and Wes couldn’t believe what happened next. The sorrel horse pinned its ears, snaked his head and tried to bite the little steer through the pipe-panel fence. Not only that, but he followed it along the rail. The cow, terrified, turned back in the other direction. So did the gelding. Back and forth the two of them worked, more than a few audience members laughing as the little animal doggedly stalked the calf.

“Too bad he’ll be sifted,” Natalie said.

He would, Wes agreed. Any animal caught misbehaving would be sent home. It was part of why the sale remained popular. You had a better-than-average chance of buying a good animal when all was said and done.

“I can’t really blame the horse for bucking him off,” he admitted.

“What do you mean?” Jillian’s friend asked.

“That’s the horse I was telling you about earlier,” Jillian said. “The one with the spur marks on his sides.”

Someone managed to intercept the animal on the rail, stopping the fun the gelding had been having with the steer. A few people in the crowd groaned. Wes wasn’t the only one who’d been impressed by the gelding’s natural ability.

“You’re going to buy him.”

The statement came from Jillian, and Wes couldn’t believe his ears. “Excuse me?”

Jillian stood up, motioning to Natalie that they should change places. His dog’s tail thumped when he spotted his favorite human.

Traitor, he silently told the dog.

“He’s going to be amazing, Wes.” She sat down next to him. “I know he’s not reining bred, but you saw him with that cow.”

“He could be by Secretariat for all I care. He’s a gelding. I can’t breed him.”

“He has ability. He would have cut that cow by himself if someone who knew what he was doing had been on his back.”

Wes followed her gaze. The horse had been caught. Its head was down, sides heaving, tail swishing as it passed by its still-prone rider.

“I think he might have been hurt,” Natalie observed.

No less than he deserved, but Wes kept the thought to himself. There was no excuse for leaving marks on a horse. If it misbehaved or behaved like a bronc, half the time the spurs had caused the problem, that or a bad-fitting saddle. Men like the guy in the arena—a man who would be okay, judging by the way he waved people away and slowly came to his feet—shouldn’t be allowed to ride horses. They were bullies, pure and simple.

“What makes you think that horse doesn’t have some serious mental issues?”

But he didn’t need to wait for her answer, and he almost shook his head.

“I just know,” she said.

His gaze shot to her own. She had a way of looking at him. A challenge shone from her eyes, but there was also a plea, one that begged him to trust her.

Son of a—

“All right.” He couldn’t keep himself from shaking his head this time, though. “I’ll take a look. But you know he’s going to be sifted. I won’t be able to buy him at the auction. It’d have to be a private treaty sale.”

“All the better. After what just happened, they’ll all but give him away. You could probably buy him out behind the barn right now.”

“For good reason.”

She placed a hand on his thigh. His gaze quickly moved to where her fingers rested, Wes wanting to move his leg out of the way, stopping himself just in time, wondering why he minded her touch so much.

“Just give him a shot.”

Her hand, those eyes... He had to look away. “Okay, fine.”

But he got up before he changed his mind. No, before he convinced himself he should give something else a try...like touching her back, maybe even kissing the woman with the kind green eyes.