Convincing the Rancher (13 page)

“Nice bay,” she said, walking up to the huge beast and holding her hand out for it to sniff, hoping neither the horse nor Slaid would notice it shaking. The horse’s dark nose snuffled her quaking hand, then continued up her arm to her shoulder. It blew gently into her hair, and Tess stepped back in surprise.

“All my animals seem to think your hair is hay,” Slaid said, leaning with one arm over the horse’s back. There was something about him that gave her confidence and calmed her heart. No. She had to stop thinking things like that—she was perfectly capable of calming her own heart.

“Meet Puck,” he said.

“Puck?” It seemed an odd name for a horse. Not that she had any idea what horses were generally named. “You’re a hockey fan?”

“
A Midsummer Night’s Dream?
Shakespeare?”

Tess looked at him, aware of the play yet unable to make the connection.

“He’s playful. And fast. Remember when Puck says, ‘I’ll put a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes’?”

No she didn’t remember, and she was surprised he did. “You’re a fan of Shakespeare?”

“I like to read. Occasionally I’m in the mood for a classic.”

A Shakespeare-quoting cowboy of a mayor. And she already knew he had fabulous skills in bed. Her resolve to keep this all business was already crumbling, and she’d been in his presence for about ninety seconds. “You’re quite the renaissance man,” she quipped.

He smiled. “I try to keep life interesting. Now come on over here and meet Wendy.”

“Wendy?”

“Well, she came to me with a buddy, and they’re always together. And he’s this gangly little guy. We named him Peter Pan. Wendy just seemed like the logical choice for his best friend.”

“And do most of your animals get their names from literature?”

“When it suits them. Which is most of the time. There are a lot of good books out there.”

Tess walked around Puck’s enormous backside, giving him a lot of space, and there, tied to the other side of the trailer, was a beautiful black mare. She was significantly smaller than Puck and daintier, with smaller hindquarters. “She’s so pretty. But she’s a different kind of horse, right?”

“Puck here is a quarter horse. He’s got this big old rear end so he can chase down cattle and turn on a dime. Wendy, however, was born in the wild. She’s a mustang.”

“You’re kidding!” Even city-girl Tess had heard about America’s own wild horses.

“When they get overpopulated, the government rounds them up and auctions them off. And though it’s not supposed to happen, sometimes they go to slaughterhouses. Other times they’re just held at these rundown government facilities because no one knows what to do with them. A guy in town, Todd, made it his business to help change that. He’s got a ranch now, kind of a sanctuary. The guy’s amazing—really passionate. He convinced Jack to help him train them. After Todd and Jack trained Wendy some, I bought her.”

Tess smiled at this further evidence that Samantha had married a good man. “So you’re going to put a beginner like me on a half-wild horse?”

Slaid laughed. “Don’t panic. Jack’s phenomenal at what he does. And my son, Devin, and I have worked with her a lot. She’s the sweetest.”

His son. It was easy to forget how serious, how settled his life was. She needed to watch herself. Slaid was a family man through and through. Now that they both seemed resolved to be a little more cordial, she had to be careful not to flirt. She didn’t want to give him any ideas. She’d already hurt him once.

Slaid must have read her mind. “I know we’re not supposed to talk about what happened between us two years ago, but isn’t it kind of strange that back when we first met, I knew Jack and you knew Samantha? And out of all the other people your boss could have sent to Benson, he sent you?”

“Coincidences happen all the time,” she said dismissively.

“Right,” he said, handing her a brush. “Maybe to you. Not so much to me.”

Tess figured it was best not to answer. What was the point? It
was
strange that they’d met again, but that didn’t mean it signified anything. In her experience, it was best not to analyze things too much. In real life, things didn’t mean much. They just happened, and then you somehow figured out what to do next.

Tess carried the large wooden brush over to Wendy. There was no evidence now of the mare’s freewheeling past. She had a sweet face, with a white star on her forehead and petite pointed ears that perked up when she snuffed at Tess’s hand. “So what do I do with this thing?” she asked Jack, holding up the brush.

“Just run it along her coat, in the direction the hair grows. Make sure there’s no dirt on it.”

“Um...okay.” Tess ran her hand tentatively down the sleek muscle of Wendy’s neck, glad that the horse just stood there placidly. She began brushing and had worked her way around to Wendy’s other side when Slaid walked over and handed her a small metal tool with a bent end.

“Hoof pick,” he said. He demonstrated how to lean gently on Wendy’s shoulder until she obligingly picked up her foot.

“You’re kidding, right?” Tess looked down at her manicured nails with their pale pink polish.

“Not kidding.” He showed her how to use the pick to clean around the bottom of Wendy’s hoof.

“You don’t know where that hoof has been!” Tess exclaimed in dismay.

“Well, actually, I do. She was in a stall last night, so it’s been in straw, maybe a little manure—”

“Exactly my point!”

“If you’re gonna learn to ride, Tess, you’ll have to get a little less squeamish. And, not to tell you how to do your job, but a little hard work like
this
will go a long way toward earning this town’s trust.” He nodded his head in the direction of the house across the street, and Tess looked just in time to see the curtain pulled hurriedly shut by an invisible hand inside. “Mrs. Barnes over there will be sure to let people know what she sees today.”

He was right. She had to put on a good show for Benson. She pulled her fleece gloves out of her pocket and slid them on.

Slaid grinned as she took the pick from him. “You sure are girlie, Tess Cole.”

“If anyone had told me a week ago I’d be cleaning a horse’s foot I’d have told them they were crazy.” But she slowly leaned into the muscles at the top of Wendy’s leg, and the mare’s foot came up like magic. It was difficult to hold up the weight of her hind leg, and Slaid leaned in behind her to show her how to place it on her knee. His hands on her back, guiding her, felt huge. She could feel the strength of them, even through her many layers of clothing.

“You’re doing great,” he assured her, and his breath warmed her cheek and that warmth went on to other parts of her, as well. She struggled to concentrate on dislodging a small rock in Wendy’s hoof and Slaid’s hand came over hers, guiding the hoof pick, showing her how to get the point under the rock and flip it out. “See?” he said in her ear. “It’s not so bad.”

She set the hoof down from her wobbly knees—not sure if they were wobbly from Wendy’s weight or Slaid’s proximity. They went around Wendy to clean her other two feet and Tess realized that there was a strange part of her that was actually enjoying this, and not just because she was pressed up against the gorgeous mayor. She liked learning to care for this little horse with a big history, whose very presence here was proof that there were people out there who did the right thing, who tried to protect something precious.

She’d always been so worried about keeping herself on track, making sure she had enough and felt safe enough that she’d never given much thought to helping others. But here, today, she was playing a small part of taking care of this rescued horse and it felt good.

“I can’t believe how calm she is.” Tess gently set the last clean hoof on the ground.

“She’s sweet, like I said. She knows you’re a beginner and she’ll go easy on you.”

Or maybe it was because Wendy knew she’d met another creature just like her, raised feral, adopted out, who’d somehow found a way to land on her feet.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

S
HE HADN’T FALLEN
off yet. Tess was repeating Slaid’s equestrian advice like a litany.
Heels down, toes in, ball of the foot in the stirrup. Try to keep your weight in your legs. One hand on the rein, keeping it loose.
The other hand was supposed to be relaxed by her thigh, but it seemed to have a stressed-out mind of its own, grabbing at the saddle horn whenever Wendy went up or down a hill, or stepped over an obstacle.

Wendy’s short, quick steps ate up the path that wound through the fields behind Tess’s rental house. Although it was strange to call them fields, because that word made her think of meadows and grasses, while here it was sagebrush and something that Slaid called soda straw that had strange, dried, puffy-looking flowers on it. And in between the sparse plants was mainly rocks. “So I take it this isn’t grazing land?” she asked Slaid.

“Nope. Most of our good pastures have had a little human intervention to get the grass growing. These are the native plants. Tough as nails.”

Tess looked at the shrubs with new respect. They
were
tough, and prickly looking, too. She could appreciate any creature that survived under tough conditions. Like she had.

Ugh. Benson must have introspection in the air. She found herself constantly thinking of parts of her life that she had no interest in revisiting. She urged Wendy up closer to Slaid and tried to think of conversation to distract her from herself.

“I haven’t been fired so far—do I owe that to you?”

Slaid looked over his shoulder and grinned. “You might owe me a little. That CEO has no sense of humor, but I told him I was completely responsible for any misunderstanding about me being a ranch hand. I embellished a few things to make sure it was clear that I’d done all the lying. And then I played it off as some dumb cowboy practical joke. I figured he was so hell-bent on seeing me that way anyway, I might as well take advantage of it.”

“I appreciate it. I shouldn’t have played along. I should have cleared it up right away but...” She trailed off, not quite sure how to explain her total lapse of professionalism.

“He called you a gal?” Slaid finished for her.

“Yes, he did. It just bugs me, you know? No matter how hard I work and how successful I am, there will always be things men will feel free to say to me simply because I’m a woman. Things they’d never say to a man. Anyway, I appreciate you helping me out.”

“No problem. It was kind of nice to be on the same side for once.”

Tess laughed, surprised by his take on it. “You’re right. We’ve been upset with each other since the moment I arrived.” She paused and then decided to say what was on her mind. “I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way when I left your hotel room in Phoenix without saying goodbye.”

Slaid was quiet for a moment, as if trying to think of how to answer. “Thanks for that,” he finally said. “I’m not sure
hurt
is the right word.
Disappointed
, maybe? The whole one-night thing, it’s just not something I have much experience with.”

Tess thought of and rejected a few different responses. How could she possibly explain to this nice guy, this small-town, wholesome man, that the whole one-night thing was pretty much all she
had
experience with?

The track had merged with a dirt road, and Slaid slowed Puck so they could ride beside each other. Tess cast around in her brain for a new topic. “So where are your parents?”

“They retired to Palm Springs.” He shook his head. “I find it hard to believe, but they’ve actually taken up golf. Guess they’d had enough of the cows and the snow.”

“I can understand that sentiment, and I’ve only been here a couple weeks.”

He grinned at her. “And it’s not even snowing yet.”

“Exactly.” That grin would be her undoing. That and the way his eyes crinkled at the corner and she could see glimmers of humor in their gray depths. She looked out at the mountains, growing closer and looming higher as they rode. Then she made the connection. It was the perfect segue. “They have a lot of windmills out in Palm Springs.”

“They sure do. Hundreds.”

“And they’re not so bad, right?” Tess tried to keep her voice neutral, but the look Slaid gave her told her he saw right through her attempt to win him over.

“Honestly? I think they’re ugly. I want clean energy and I want to prevent pollution, but I don’t want to look at windmills every day, and I don’t want them on the land I lease.”

“So you have NIMBY syndrome.”

“I have
what
?”

“NIMBY,” Tess answered. “It stands for Not In My Back Yard. It’s really common. People might believe in the importance of something like windmills, or a homeless shelter, but no one wants them in their neighborhood.”

Slaid laughed. “Yeah, well, I guess I’ve got a
bad
case of NIMBY, then.”

“You know the windmills could really help Benson. You could even stipulate that they have to be manufactured here, and that local young people have access to training for those manufacturing jobs.”

“We have jobs. Ranching. Tourism.”

“Ranching’s in trouble,” she countered. “I did a little research. There are more than a few ranchers in the area who’ve already sold a lot of their cows because of the drought.”

“We’ve had droughts before and we’ve gotten by. We will again.”

“But communities will have to make some sacrifices so we can get off fossil fuels.”

“Yes, but why
my
community? Especially now that we’re trying to install solar panels. And by the way, don’t even get me started about the grid crashing. I was up all night reading about it and now I know that’s just speculation, mainly fueled by big power companies who don’t want to change their ways.”

“We could argue about that for a long time,” Tess said.

He glared at her, but she saw humor still there. “Let’s not, then. So my point was, why shouldn’t the community who will use this energy provide it?”

“Maybe they don’t have wind?” Tess asked.

“Sure, but again, why does Benson have to be the one to supply it?”