His Cowgirl Bride (3 page)

“World-class bronc buster—I remember now,” Sam drawled. “So what brings you ta Mule Hollow?”

And that was that, Brent thought with relief. This might be okay after all. Pace had assured him he'd blend in and be just another cowboy in this neck of the woods. “I'm here to break and train horses for Pace Gentry.”

“Fer
Pace?”

Brent nodded, starting to feel the heat of the peppers. “Yeah, he called and said he was in a bind and wondered if I could help him out for a couple of months.”

“Tacy know about this? Know about you?”

Brent noticed Sam looking a bit baffled. “We met yesterday when I arrived. Is something wrong?”

“No. I'm jest surprised 'cause she didn't say nothin'. I ain't heard about this 'til now.”

Brent took another bite of the meat loaf. His tongue
was burning now, and he decided maybe he wouldn't add any hot sauce. He took a swig of tea. Coughed and took another swig of tea. His eyes watered slightly. He took another swig and thought he had it under control until a cough ambushed him. The meat loaf was good but smokin', and that was going easy on the fire it was packing. “It was kinda spur-of-the-moment, I think. He realized he was going to be tied up longer than he planned and he had fresh horses comin' in that needed takin' care of.” He ended with a cough.

Sam nodded and grinned. “Well, I think that's gonna be a real fine situation. Still want this hot sauce?”

“No, sir, I think I'm good.”

“Yup, ain't nobody ever needed to add spice to my meat loaf. I'm surprised yor still eatin'.”

Brent felt like his throat was starting to close up. “I can understand that, sir.” He bit back a cough and drained his glass of tea. Sam picked up the pitcher and held it up, offering a refill. Brent held out his glass and was tempted to grab the pitcher and down it as the peppers kicked in full force!

Tacy was probably laughing her pretty head off at the joke she'd just pulled on him. When he got through dying, he'd probably think it was funny, too…maybe.

 

She really should be ashamed of herself, Tacy thought as she left the diner and headed out to Pace's place to take Rabbit, her own horse, out for some exercise. She should feel bad—but she didn't. Sam
insisted on fixing that meat loaf every morning and every night he threw most of it away. Not even the buzzards would touch the stuff. But he did it because he said when cowboys needed to challenge each other to some sort of wager—which a cowboy just couldn't help doing on a regular basis—his meat loaf was the perfect thing. The loser got to eat it! He kept it on hand for just such occasions, and he got a real kick out of watching the cowboys sweat bullets while downing the hot stuff.

Tacy knew to warn new customers away from it, but Brent Stockwell had just been too tempting. Still, as upset as she was with the guy, there was something about him that she was overwhelmingly drawn to…. Her and every other woman on the planet! From what she'd seen on the covers of all those tabloids, he'd escorted a parade of different women on his arm. Watching his love life two years ago had been a national pastime. It would only be a matter of time before someone other than Tacy realized who Brent was. And then what?

She would be curious to see how Mule Hollow would handle having a celebrity in its midst.

The thing was—why did she care? She might be a little curious as to why he'd disappeared from the circuit two years before when he had been on such a roll. No, she cared because he was here to take her job away, that's why. No curiosity about his past and no butterflies-in-the-stomach, adolescent infatuation with the man was going to change that fact. The only thing
about Brent that interested her was how to get him to rethink his stand on her being around those horses. Maybe he would if he forgave her for the meat loaf first!

“B
irdy!” Tacy scolded the next morning after she stumbled over something that shouldn't have been in her path and dropped her travel cup of coffee on the porch. A quick glance down revealed a boot, a cowboy's riding boot with the spur still strapped on. “Bad dog,” she mumbled as her gaze fell on Birdy, who was flopped on her stomach with her chin on her paws, eyes watching Tacy expectantly.

“You have done a bad thing, young lady,” she said, bending to retrieve her cup and the boot. Striding to her truck, she dropped the boot in the back and gave Birdy another stern look. “You're gonna get me in trouble if you start stealing our neighbors' boots. You don't mess with a man's boots.” Birdy cocked her head and didn't look the least bit repentant. “I'm serious—no stealing.” Birdy barked once and wiggled her tail, totally ignoring Tacy's scowl as she lowered
the tailgate. “I am such a sucker. Hop in.” Birdy sprang into the back, spun and licked Tacy on the cheek.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, too.”

She knew the boot had to be Brent's, and after yesterday's meat-loaf incident, she wasn't looking forward to returning it.

The man just plain disturbed her, and he was taking up too much of her thoughts. Aside from the fact that she found him—the bad boy of the rodeo circuit—disturbingly attractive, there were the things he'd said when they first met—that he'd died—that kept coming back to her. What had he meant?

Two years ago he'd been such a party-hearty cowboy that it was amazing the man had time to stay on the top of the rodeo leaderboard.

Then he'd disappeared because of a rumored family emergency. He'd dropped out of competition, and off the front covers of the tabloids. He was just gone.

Now he was back—in Mule Hollow—and taking over her job. She could understand Sheri and Pace's explanation. They'd had to bring Brent in because they weren't going to be back in time to honor their contract. The horses were contracted to have sixty days' riding on them before they were picked up at the end of December. Since Pace wasn't going to be there to do it, he'd called in the next best thing—Brent. Those were Sheri's words.

Sheri had told Tacy to talk Brent into letting her help him. Yeah, right. As badly as she wanted to learn to break horses, she wasn't the kind of gal who begged
anyone for anything. Then again, she wasn't the kind of gal who let a guy tell her what she could and could not do, either. Maybe that had been part of the reason she'd conned him into eating that meat loaf the day before. Who knew? She'd taken Rabbit out for some exercise in the pasture when she got home from the café and half expected him to be waiting for her when she rode back to the barn. But he hadn't been around. If he couldn't tolerate hot stuff, that meat loaf probably burned a hole in his stomach.

Maybe he liked it hot, because now he was striding out of the barn as she parked the truck.

“Hey, cowboy,” she called, climbing out of the cab and walking with his boot extended in front of her. “I bring a peace offering,” she said handing him his boot.

“This is my boot.”

“Very good. That is, in fact,
your
boot,” she said. To her surprise, Brent chuckled.

“This is your peace offering? My own boot?”

“You don't like it?”

“I like it a lot. Thanks.”

She grinned. “You're very welcome,” she said, striding past him and heading toward Rabbit's stall. “Hey, boy,” she cooed as she lifted the latch and entered. Brent had followed her into the barn and was now leaning against the gate, watching her. Her pulse started doing that erratic drumbeat that did not make her happy at all.

“So why are you so adamantly against my getting in that pen with those horses?” Tacy had decided to
just cut straight to the problem. “I came here to learn to train horses, and now you're standing in my way. Is it something personal?”

“You're not one to mince words, are you?” he said, startled.

“No, I'm not. And you're not a chauvinist, so what's the problem?”

A grin spread across his handsome face. She looked at the horse blanket she was settling on Rabbit's back, feeling Brent's gaze on her.

“What makes you think I'm not just a male chauvinist who doesn't want a woman out there?”

“Not your style.” She walked past him to retrieve her saddle from its stand.

He crossed his arms and watched as she hefted the saddle. “You like to think you can read people, don't you?”

She paused, grinning. “Bad habit I have.”

“So how did you know I liked meat loaf?”

She grimaced. “How do you know that wasn't just a lucky guess?”

She started to walk past him, halting when he moved slightly in front of her.

“That was no guess.”

She swallowed, not expecting to find herself so close to him. “Okay,” she said, sidestepping around him as her pulse careened. “So I remembered reading once that meat loaf was your favorite food.”

He followed her into the stall, and she could feel him close beside her as she placed the saddle on
Rabbit's back. She was so embarrassed—it wasn't as if she read those magazines. Well, she had read the covers, and she did admit that sometimes when she found herself standing in line she'd scanned them, looking specifically for his name.

“You read stories in the tabloids about me?”

She spun toward him. “Why would you say that? You were at the top of your game when you were riding. You were written up in more than just the gossip rags.” Drat. She'd just admitted how much she had followed the cowboy.

“You didn't exactly strike me as the type to read that trash.” He strode out of the barn and she followed him. His sarcasm and stiff posture told her that he was really angry. Tacy suddenly had the overwhelming need to justify herself. “I didn't read them. I
did
read an article about you in the
Horseman,
though,” she said. “I really and truly never flipped through those other magazines. I'm a grocery store headline reader, that's all.”

He stopped between the barn and the corral. “Most of that stuff wasn't true. It's pure fantasy.”

“However, inquiring minds sometimes can't help reading them.” Her comment made him scowl. “Sorry, I was just teasing,” she said.

His gaze looked tortured as he lifted his rope from the fence and tightened the coil. She almost let it go. Almost. There was something about the way he looked standing there tense as a fence post and as hard as a block of ice.

Don't butt in,
the voice in her head hollered. But she forged ahead. “So you're going to enlighten me about the truth, right?” The soft snorting of the horses that were moving about on the other side of the fence sounded loud in the tense silence as he lifted his gaze to hers.

“No, I'm not. As soon as I hit the circuit again, nosy reporters will try to expose my life like an open book, and I don't know what kind of lies and twists will be attached. I'd rather not think about all that now.” His tone softened a bit and his accusing gaze gave way to one that almost begged her to understand.

Tacy's curiosity skyrocketed, but she only gave a light nod. After all, it was his business. Still, when Brent spun on his heel and strode into the horse pen, she couldn't take her eyes off him. What had happened to him?

Tacy stood there for the longest time as Brent worked the rope. His back and shoulders barely moved as the rope twirled above his head. With a quick flick, he let the loop fly toward the group of horses, and there was no mistaking which horse he had in his sights. Nor was there a question in her mind about whether the loop would land easily around the horse's neck.

Brent Stockwell was poetry in motion. Cowboy poetry. And as the horse he chose reared, hooves pawing the air, head twisting from side to side, Brent took up the slack on the rope and walked calmly toward the uncertain animal, reeling it in with no fear.

As he talked gently to the horse, Tacy watched the
animal fall under his influence. Tacy was afraid she was doing exactly the same thing. Only she wasn't going to let herself back down and give up her dream. Oh, no, she was going to break horses, with or without his help.

She'd be lying to herself if she said she wasn't intrigued by Brent. She was…but that didn't matter. Her main goal was to figure out how to get Brent to teach her to do what he just did. Before she could tame horses, she was going to have to tame the man!

O
n his third morning in Mule Hollow, Brent hopped in his truck at twenty to six and headed to Sam's for an early-morning breakfast. He glanced at Pace's house as he passed it, and couldn't help but think of the feisty redhead probably still sleeping inside.

He had not planned on Tacy when he'd agreed to take this job. The fact that she knew about him—or thought she did—bothered him. It wasn't as if he was that famous or anything. His picture had been on the front page of those tabloids two years ago…. Thankfully, hardly anyone recognized him these days. If they did, it was only because they were connected to the rodeo circuit in some way. Sam hadn't cared one way or the other. Normally, he didn't let it bother him if someone knew him and mentioned his past stupidity—dating TV stars and acting like he was somebody special. Tina's accident had sobered him up in more
ways than one. Knowing Tacy had read all that trash about him—it bothered him. More than he wanted it to.

The woman was something—“Something else,” he growled. A distraction he wouldn't mind as long as she stayed out of the horse pen.

When he pulled up in front of the diner, two older men were disappearing through the swinging door ahead of him.

He removed his hat as he entered, realizing they were the first patrons of the morning.

“You came back,” Sam said, grinning as Brent sat down on the same stool he'd chosen the day before.

“I'm back, but—” he held up his hands “—I don't believe I'll be having the meat loaf.”

The two older men had set their checkerboard on the table by the front window and come to stand at the counter. They studied him. At the mention of meat loaf, their dour looks turned into grins.

“So yor the one that ate the meat loaf?” the thin one said loudly. “Big TV star like yourself got hoodwinked, didn't ya?”

Brent's palms dampened at the mention of the TV spots. Sam hadn't said anything about that, but Brent should have known he'd seen the commercials. Brent had snagged a few endorsements during his bid for the championship.

The other man shook his balding head. “That's not a good thang. Not good at all.”

Brent didn't know if the man was referring to the meat-loaf episode or the TV spots. Brent was in agreement on both counts.

Sam chuckled and set a cup of coffee in front of Brent. “I told y'all Tacy got him. She recommended the meat loaf and didn't tell him about all the peppers I load it up with.”

That got a hoot from all three of them and Brent couldn't help chuckling along with them. He was relieved that they seemed more interested in Tacy's reactions than his past. She'd definitely pulled a smooth one on him.

“So what'd ya do ta make her mad at ya?”

Brent looked at the skinny guy. “I asked her what she recommended. She said the meat loaf.”

“That's Tacy. She's a root-tootin' live wire. By the way, I'm Applegate Thornton, but you can call me App,” the skinny guy said, holding out his hand.

Brent shook, glad App didn't lock on to his hand with the same grip that Sam had.

“And I'm Stanley. Stanley Orr. Glad ta make yor acquaintance. Sam said you was here ta train horses fer Pace.”

“Yes, sir. That's true.”

Sam had been grinning through the whole exchange. “That thar's why Tacy tricked him into eatin' the meat loaf. He surprised her out thar. Poor gal didn't have a clue you was showin' up here.”

“You mean she didn't
know?”
App's eyes widened beneath bushy brows.

Sam shook his head. “Shore didn't. Pace and Sheri never said nothin'.”

Stanley let out a low whistle. “She didn't get mad, did she? She got even.” He and his two buddies got a good laugh out of that.

“Serious, though,” Stanley said, “why would that make her mad? Yor good with horses, so you kin teach her same as Pace was goin' to. Right?”

Brent didn't want to get into this, but it couldn't be helped. “No. I won't teach her.”

Three groans went up around him.

“She know that?” Stanley asked as his buddies leaned in with raised bushy brows.

“Hey,” Brent said, suddenly feeling defensive. “I told her I didn't want her in the pen with the horses, and she got a little peeved. Why are y'all looking like that? It's for her own good.”

“Tell him, Sam,” Applegate prompted.

“She came here to learn to train them horses,” Sam said. “That's the only reason Tacy's in Mule Hollow. The little spitfire wants ta not only train 'em, she wants to
break
'em.”

“Over my dead body,” Brent mumbled, swallowing a big swig of coffee.

“That may be, if you get in her way,” Stanley said, grabbing a handful of sunflower seeds out of a bag. “She's got her heart set on it.”

App crossed his arms and assessed Brent with warning eyes. “Yup, she does, and I don't thank she's
the type ta have some ole cowboy tellin' her what and
what not
she kin do.”

“Even one that does foo-foo commercials,” Stanley added, hiking a bushy brow and grinning wider.

“Ain't that the truth,” App grunted, leaning forward to sniff the air close to Brent. “Men—especially self-respectin' cowboys—ain't spos'd ta smell prissy.”

So much for no teasing. Brent decided against pointing out that it had been two lousy cologne commercials—about which he'd been teased mercilessly by every cowboy on the circuit.

Sam chuckled, clearly enjoying Brent's discomfort before taking pity on him and reeling the conversation back in. “I jest don't see Tacy walkin' away. Pace was supposed to teach her.”

App and Stanley sobered. “Yup,” they said in unison.

“Pace
agreed to that?” Brent didn't like what he was hearing.

“Well, yeah,” Sam said, slapping his palms on the counter as he glared at Brent. “You ain't listening. She ain't from here. She came here just fer the reason of learnin' ta break them horses.”

“Pace didn't tell me any of that. I'm sorry, fellas, but that agreement was between Tacy and Pace. My agreement with Pace has nothing to do with putting Tacy at risk. No way am I teaching a woman how to get up on the back of a bucking horse.” Not after he'd helped his sister do exactly that, and he'd almost gotten her killed.

“Calm down,” Stanley said, placing a hand on Brent's shoulder.

“Yeah, you don't look so good,” App said, peering close. “She's a good little gal. No need ta get angry at her.”

Brent picked up his coffee. “I'm not angry at her. I'm just not the guy to teach her to break a horse. She'll have to take that up with Pace when he gets back.” He might have to have a word with Pace about that, too. “Sam, how about some eggs, sir?”

Sam grinned. “I'm fixin' ta cook 'em right up.” He headed toward the kitchen and App and Stanley went over to their table and the checkerboard. He wasn't too sure he understood why someone would want to play checkers at the crack of dawn. To each his own—they liked checkers this early; he liked riding horses this early.

“Sam,” he called. “No funny business. I had heartburn like you wouldn't believe.”

All three of the men thought that was funny and hooted and chortled with laughter. Brent didn't join them, as his thoughts turned back to Tacy. He hoped she wouldn't ask him to teach her to break horses. She'd told him he was in her way and made it clear that she thought she was capable—his sister had believed the same thing, and only by the grace of God was she still alive. Brent was counting his blessings and had absolutely no intention of being part of that kind of foolishness again.

Especially with Tacy Jones. The woman was a wild card. It would be a shame to risk something happening to somebody who was obviously so full of life.

If she asked, he'd just tell her no.

There were much worse things in life than being told no.

 

“So I got this idea about the Thanksgiving festival,” Norma Sue Jenkins said.

Tacy had just poured coffee into Norma's cup and refilled Norma's two friends' cups and couldn't help listening in on their conversation. She liked it when they came in for afternoon coffee, when the diner was quiet because the cowboys were all out working. Norma was a hoot, a robust ranching woman with a robust personality. Along with her friends, Esther Mae Wilcox and Adela Green—Sam's wife—Norma was considered the heart of this tiny town. These three ladies loved Mule Hollow and everything about keeping it a place where people wanted to move and raise their families.

“Well, I hope it's something new,” Esther Mae said, patting her red hair. “I'm getting a bit bored with the same ole festivals.”

Adela, a small woman with a gentle smile and soft white hair, nodded. “Me, too. We do need something to keep visitors wanting to come back for more. What's your idea, Norma?”

“Pumpkin' chunkin',” she said, grinning so wide her smile stretched across her round face, making her look a bit like a grinning pumpkin herself. “Or ‘punkin chunkin,' which is the right term for the contest.”

Esther Mae gasped. “You mean, where people
bring those funny contraptions and see who can shoot a pumpkin the longest distance?”

Norma nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, that's exactly what I mean. I think that would be a riot.”

“Oh, I do, too!” Esther Mae exclaimed. “I saw it done on some TV show and those people had a blast coming up with those odd-looking contraptions and cannons and such.”

Sam came around the counter, his interest piqued. “Some of them are huge.”

“I know,” Norma Sue agreed. “And I told my Roy Don that I wanted to build one myself.”

That got Tacy's attention. “You know how to do that?”

Adela smiled sweetly. “Oh, our Norma Sue is a whiz at fixing things. I'm sure she could build something. Isn't that right, dear?” she said, looking up at Sam. He grinned at his wife like a schoolboy in love, and Tacy's heartstrings tugged.

“It's true. That jukebox used to be a mess until Norma Sue finally got it fixed.”

Confused, Tacy glanced at the colorful old jukebox in the corner. “Wait a minute. It doesn't always play the right song.”

Esther Mae harrumphed loudly and frowned as she glanced toward the machine. “Believe me. It never used to play the right song. Drove me slap crazy. Thankfully, Norma kept working on it 'til it's much better now.”

“I'm gonna fix it completely one of these days,”
Norma said, eyeing the machine. “Fer now, I figure it has a right to have a quirk. So what do y'all think? I'm gonna shoot this idea by Lacy and the rest of the festival committee. Are y'all on board?”

“Shore, we're on board,” Sam said. “I can jest hear ole App and Stanley when they find out about it. If you're gonna build a contraption, they probably will, too, jest so they kin beat you, Norma Sue.”

Esther Mae harrumphed again, crossing her arms over her pink-velour-covered chest. “Them two couldn't build a rubber-band shooter that would stand up to anything Norma Sue could build.”

Sam grinned. “It don't matter if they could or not. I jest have me a feelin' we might have ourselves a little competition among friends once they hear ole Norma's buildin' a machine.”

Norma Sue's grin grew slowly across her face like a war flag unfurling. “If them boys want to issue me a challenge, you tell 'em ta bring it on.”

Tacy laughed. Mule Hollow just got a whole lot more interesting. She'd already learned that App and Stanley loved to pick on Norma Sue and Esther Mae, and she had a feeling this was going to be fun to watch. There might even be a few fireworks.

 

Brent was working with a hardheaded colt when Tacy drove into the yard the next morning. He didn't look in her direction, though he was tempted. The gal had spunk. She was lean and leggy, like a colt, but there was nothing gangly about Tacy. She was quick on
her feet, and he'd noticed that she was easy around her horse. There was no denying that she had a way with it.

He'd watched her ride, knew she was good. Two years ago, before his sister had been hurt, before he'd learned his lesson, he wouldn't have had any problem teaching her how to break a horse. Back then, he'd been a fool.

He could feel Tacy's eyes on his back, watching as he worked with the colt. It was a nervous colt, and building trust between himself and the horse was the most important thing about breaking it the gentle way.

“She's trusting you more today,” Tacy said, her voice soft, easy.

“She's a smart one. Nervous, but smart.”

“I think you'd probably say that about any gal who did what you told her to do.”

She was teasing, yet she wasn't. He patted the horse on the neck and kept his mouth shut. Maybe she'd go ride Rabbit and leave him in peace.