The Trouble With Cowboys (11 page)

“He might be in pain or need a sedative, that’s all, just to keep him from hurting himself. Don’t worry, we’ll get him through this.”

She closed the phone and dumped the rest of her coffee.

“You’re leaving?” Sierra asked.

“It’s Dylan’s horse.” She was glad she’d already taken care of Pepper. She brushed her teeth and said good morning to Ryder as he came out of his room.

Good. Now Sierra wouldn’t be able to go back to bed so she might as well go to church.

Annie tugged on her boots.

“So let me get this straight.” Sierra leaned against the doorway. “You’ve been harping on me about missing church, and now you’re the one who’s not going.”

Apparently the caffeine had kicked in.

“This is an emergency. I can’t let the poor horse hurt himself.” Her boots on, she grabbed her purse. “Tell John I won’t be there, all right?” And then she was out the door.

As she drove up East River Road, she forced herself to ease up on the accelerator. She told herself it was the sound of the suffering horse that weighted her foot. But there had been something in Dylan’s voice. A vulnerability she hadn’t heard before.

Minutes later she pulled into the Circle D and eased up on the gas, passing under the log-style entry arch. When she pulled up to the barn, Dylan met her at her door, his brow creased below the brim of his hat.

“How’s he doing?” she asked.

“No better.”

She started for the barn. “You called Merle?”

“He’ll be here soon as he can.”

She heard Braveheart before she saw him. He neighed and blew, then rammed into the stall.

Dylan tried to soothe him as they approached. “It’s all right, buddy. Settle down now.”

The horse showed no sign of calming. His eyes, cloudy from the uveitis, looked frantic as he tossed his head. Annie approached on his right, talking as she went.

“What’s wrong, fella? It’s all right, Braveheart. Everything’s okay.”

When the horse lowered his head, she put her closed fist on his left side. He didn’t turn to smell. He neighed and squealed.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Dylan said. “I’m right here.”

Annie pulled her hand back. “I think he’s lost the last of his vision,” she said over the sound of his stomping hooves.

A nearby horse snorted.

“I was afraid of that. Why isn’t my voice calming him?”

“He’s just scared. He’ll need time to adjust, that’s all.”

“But he will adjust. . .”

She knew how worried he was, but she wanted to be honest. “What was his temperament like before he started going blind?”

“Steady as a rock. Never gave me a lick of trouble.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about then. Some horses never adjust, but it’s rare, and it’s the jittery ones. I’m not going to lie though. It might take awhile. Days or even weeks. We’ll just have to be patient with him.”

A rumble sounded in the drive, and Dylan went out to meet Merle. After the vet looked Braveheart over and found no cause for pain, he gave him a mild sedative. The horse calmed within minutes, his eyelids drooping.

They discussed a plan of action as Dylan walked them both
outside. As soon as they left the coolness of the barn, Annie’s phone pealed from her pocket.

“Excuse me,” she said, walking toward her truck. She didn’t want to leave yet, wanted to assure Dylan she’d put in extra hours with Braveheart over the next week. The horse was fine for the moment, but they couldn’t keep him sedated forever.

John’s name appeared on the phone’s screen. She checked her watch and was surprised at the time. She hadn’t realized she’d been there so long.

“Hi, John.”

“Hi, Annie. What are you doing? I was worried when you didn’t show up at church.”

After all her efforts this morning, Sierra hadn’t even gone?

“I’m sorry. I told Sierra to tell you I wouldn’t be there. I guess she decided not to go.”

“Oh no, she was there. She told me you were at Dylan Taylor’s place,” he said pointedly.

It was obvious from his tone that her sister had offered no explanation.
Thanks, Sierra
. . .

“There was an emergency with his horse.”

“I thought you were helping him on Thursdays.”

She gritted her teeth. “Horses don’t keep a calendar, John. I’m sorry you were worried, but it couldn’t be helped.”

He sniffed. “Right, right. Well . . . how is he—the horse?”

Merle drove by, lifting a hand. She waved and watched the dust plume behind his truck.

“He’s sedated now, but it’ll take time to adjust to the blindness. He was pretty spooked this morning.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s under control. I have to say, it worries me that you work with reckless horses. A lot can go wrong when two thousand pounds are out of control.”

She smiled tightly, staring out over Dylan’s vast green pasture. “I’m well trained for this, John.” She didn’t know why everything he said today was lighting her fuse.

“Of course, of course. I just worry about you, is all.”

“Well, no need. I’m always careful.”

“I’m sure you are.” He sniffed again. Allergies must be flaring up.

Annie watched the horses in the pasture, an appaloosa and a beautiful bay quarter horse. His tail flicked, and he lifted his head in the air.

“So are we still on for lunch in Bozeman? There’s a premium steak house I’d like to take you to.”

“Sure.” Truth be told, Annie wanted nothing more than to spend a nice quiet afternoon at home. It had been too long since she’d ridden Pepper. Besides, she’d hardly had time to read lately, and she was coming to the part where Mr. Darcy proposes.

“I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes then?”

“Fine. See you then.” Annie closed her phone and turned.

Right into Dylan. He caught her arms before she slammed into his chest.

She pulled away, huffing. “Do you have to stand right on my heels?”

He fell back against her truck door, hitched one of his boots on the running board, and tilted his head. “Trouble in paradise?”

That stupid cocky grin.

She crossed her arms, pressed her lips to prevent the denial from escaping. It was none of his business.

His smile relaxed and his eyes became thoughtful, the lids dropping in a way that could be defined as either lazy or sexy—she refused to make the call.

“Know what I think?” he said finally. “I think Oakley’s like a greenhorn with a wild mustang; he has no idea how to handle you.”

She glared. “I do not need to be
handled
.”

He tilted his head, studying her. She hated the way his brown eyes seemed to stare right into her, like he could read her every thought. So annoying. Even his posture, so relaxed and carefree, annoyed her.

“Treat her gently, meet her needs . . .” His words were slow as molasses, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “Let her know you’re there, that you won’t hurt her. Talk to her sweetly . . . touch her often . . . earn her trust.”

She couldn’t seem to inhale. “You’re despicable.”

“Am I?”

Her face grew warm. Just the image of him doing all those things to her . . .

She swallowed hard. “I was about to tell you I’d put in extra hours with Braveheart this week, but you’re making me seriously reconsider that benevolent gesture.”

“Except you’d never turn your back on a wounded creature just to spite his incorrigible owner.”

“I’m sorely tempted.”

He smiled again, one side of his mouth kicking up just before the other as if wanting to put that infernal dimple into effect as soon as possible.

“So am I, Annie Wilkerson, so am I.”

If her breath caught, it was only the sudden warm wind that stole it away. “I’ll be back to check on Braveheart tomorrow . . .
despite
his irritating owner.”

“I think I might be growing on you . . .”

“Like a noxious mold.”

He chuckled. “You amuse me, Annie—you keep me on my toes.”

“You mean I don’t fall at your feet like all the other women.”

His eyes twinkled. “Jealous?”

Of all the— “Will you move out of my way, please? I have plans.” “Ah, of course.” He pushed away from the truck and opened her door. “What exciting things do you and Spreadsheet have planned?”

“None of your business.”

“Well . . . I hope you have a frolicking good time.”

Annie skirted him, got inside the cab, and pulled the door from his grasp. “Don’t worry. We will.”

Now that she was in the truck, she couldn’t get away fast enough. As she pulled away, she caught sight of Dylan in her rearview mirror. He turned her way as he headed toward the barn.

Infernal man.

She was somewhat calmer by the time she reached the house. She hadn’t much time before John arrived. Sierra and Ryder were eating when she entered.

“Hi, Aunt Annie!”

“Hey, Bed Head. How was Sunday school?” She dropped a kiss on Ryder’s head.

“Nicky Peterson kicked Mrs. Franklin right in the knee!”

“Oh no. Did he get in trouble?”

“His mom came to get him.”

“Want some chicken noodle soup?” Sierra asked. “It’s from a can, but I added yesterday’s chicken.”

“Can’t. Having lunch with John. Speaking of which . . .” Annie tilted her head, shooting her a look. “I think you might’ve left out some pertinent information when you spoke to him at church.”

Sierra shrugged, her lips twitching. “Maybe a detail or two.”

“That wasn’t nice. He was worried.”

“Worried he might lose his prize possession, you mean?”

Annie frowned. “What do you have against John?” She kept her voice neutral on Ryder’s account. “He’s a very nice man.”

“He nearly ripped Shay’s ranch right from under her last year.”

“He feels terrible about that. Besides, Shay doesn’t hold a grudge. She told me so herself.”

Sierra rolled her eyes. “He’s not good enough for you, Annie. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”

“That’s not your decision to make. Besides, it’s not like there are scores of available men beating a path to my door. This is Moose Creek. And I would like to settle down someday, preferably before I’m old and decrepit.”

Sierra scooped up a spoonful of soup and blew on it. “What’s wrong with Dylan Taylor?”

“Hah! I hardly know where to start.”

“Mr. Taylor is a real cowboy!” Ryder said.

Annie nailed her sister with a look. “Exactly.”

“Where’s my rope, Mommy?”

Annie sighed. “I’m going to change.” Somehow she couldn’t seem to get away from Dylan Taylor—even when he wasn’t there.

Dear Overreacting,

    
It sounds as if you’re carrying baggage from a past relationship. My advice is to check it at the gate. In this case, the fee is a lot higher for a carry-on.

13

D
ylan watched Annie rifle through her bag for the latest letters. She wore a green button-up that contrasted with her hair. When she set her bag on the porch, her hair swung forward, a black curtain of silk.

They were meeting on Wednesday since tomorrow was the Fourth of July Festival. The town was packed with tourists in anticipation of Sawyer Smitten’s concert on the town square, and the community buzzed with excitement. It wasn’t often a big singer like him came through their little town.

Annie had been out every day since Sunday, working with Braveheart, but he was the same. Only time the horse was calm was when he was sedated. Still, she’d said it would take time.

“Here’s the one I’d like to use.” She handed him the letter, and he settled back in the swing and read.

Dear Annie,

My boyfriend and I have been together three years. I love him, we get along great, and we’ve been talking about marriage. But lately I’ve felt like something’s missing. I work with a man whom I’m attracted to and have been for a while. Two months ago, during a moment of weakness, I slept with him. I haven’t told my boyfriend what happened. It was a horrible thing to do, but there’s a spark between my coworker and me that’s difficult to resist even now. My coworker has kept his distance since then, out of respect for my relationship with my boyfriend, but my feelings for him have grown.

Five weeks ago I discovered I was pregnant. I’m not sure whose baby it is. I did tell my boyfriend I’m pregnant, and of course, he assumes it’s his, and now he wants to marry me.

Should I tell my boyfriend about my indiscretion? Should I break up with him because I still have feelings for my coworker? Should I marry him? Or should I wait until the baby is born and see what happens?

Signed,

                                         Learned Her Lesson in Billings

Dylan kept staring at the page even after he finished reading. The details of the letter felt personal and familiar. Brought back memories he’d worked hard to bury.