Masked Cowboy (Men of the White Sandy) (6 page)

“Yeah, I heard,” Robin replied with a wink, calling him back to his present reality.

“From who?” Mary Beth demanded, the blush creeping down her neck and towards the ivory tank top with the dangerously scooped neck.

Where the hell was Mrs. Browne?

“Paul called you a ball-buster at the two-beer mark,” Robin giggled.

“Line in the sand,” Jacob said as he actually grinned, immediately forgetting his self-imposed moratorium. It was hard to remember the last time he’d actually grinned at someone, a real, honest-to-God grin, not the fake one he pulled out for Ladies’ Hour.

Had to be at least three years.

“Thanks for the knife, by the way. Made a big impact.” When her gaze met his, something changed about her that took her from embarrassed to smoldering, like she was some sort of angel or something.

He opened his mouth to make a
small
comment, but before he could form the words, a voice from across the street cut him off.

“Jacob? We’re ready.”

Oh, thank God. Mrs. Browne was finally going to save him from himself. Jacob felt his grin die as he pivoted. Within seconds, he was holding Kip’s hand.

“How was she today?”

Mrs. Browne—unchanged after all these years except for the gray hairs—smiled gently as she shook her head. “The same, Jacob. Always the same.” Mrs. Browne tenderly patted Kip’s head. “Have you thought any more about what I said? If you took her to Rapid City…”

“I can’t just up and move, Mrs. Browne.”

The frown moved the corners of her mouth. “Sooner or later, Jacob, you’ll need to do something about her, or when she gets to high school…”

Jacob fought the urge to roll his eye. They had this same conversation every day. Mrs. Browne had taught every student in this valley for the last thirty-five years, but Kip was something out of her realm of expertise, and she made no secret of it. Almost a year ago, she’d come to Jacob with information on a specialized school for autistic children in Rapid City, convinced that Kip could get the care she needed there.

The only problem with that plan was that Kip wasn’t autistic.

Jacob nodded as she repeated the benefits of the school—again. He appreciated Mrs. Browne’s concern, but there was no way he was leaving the land to McGillis.

No way.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” he finally said, interrupting the kind old teacher.

Mrs. Browne sighed in frustration as she patted Kip’s head once more. “Tomorrow we’ll start on
Stormy
, okay, Kip?”

“Thanks again.” Jacob smiled as he turned back to the patiently waiting horses.

And into the questioning gaze of Dr. Mary Beth Hofstetter.

She looked at Kip differently than most people did. Most people just stared at the pair they made, as if they weren’t sure which was weirder—the guy with a mask or the albino kid.

But Mary Beth—she leaned over the table like she was trying to catch Kip’s eye. Like she was looking past the whiteness and trying to see the girl underneath, when Jacob had done everything he could think of to hide that girl underneath.

It was almost as unsettling as knowing she was looking at his mask.

Quickly, he hefted Kip onto Sue and mounted up himself. In his haste to get away from Dr. Mary Beth Hofstetter, he forgot to tip his hat to the ladies as he urged Mick into a fast trot.

“Hold on, Kip,” he muttered back to the girl as she loosely hung onto Sue’s mane. “We’ve got to go.”

Mary Beth carefully studied the masked cowboy and the albino girl as they trotted off down the street. Jacob fascinated her, no doubt, but Kip—Kip was another matter entirely. Aside from the oddity of an albino in the flesh, there was something about her that almost called out to Mary Beth.

Kip reminded Mary Beth of the wounded baby bunny she’d saved from a coyote when she was about nine. The poor thing didn’t make it, but she’d kept it alive in a shoebox Granny had stuffed with a tea towel for a day. It’d been afraid to move.

Kip looked like a wounded bunny, terrified and hurt, and all Mary Beth wanted to do was wrap her up and keep her safe.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that Kip needed her, not after Kip and Jacob disappeared down the street, not after she walked home and not after she turned out the lava lamp that was her nightlight.

Something was going on in Faith Ridge, and she had the feeling she was going to find out what it was, one way or the other.

Chapter Four

The routine was easy to pick up. Fridays were the easy day of office visits with dogs that had gotten into the garbage and cats that had gotten into fights. Mike Nolan showed up regularly with an ever-increasing number of ferrets, but Bill gave her several books on ferret care to study. It really wasn’t too hard to pick up. Her first attempt at a ferret neutering was a complete success.

The ranch days were more of a challenge. While Jacob showed flashes of playfulness while he did the show, tentatively flirting with her and Robin at the same time, on the ranch he was all business. And the more of his hired hands that were around, the colder he got towards her. Some days, the most she heard out of any of them was “Ma’am,” from Tommy Yellow Robe, always accompanied by a tip of a cowboy hat. Jacob seemed to scowl when he said it, but he rarely followed up on it with his own.

Line in the sand
, Mary Beth had to keep reminding herself. But somehow, that didn’t stop her from slipping on the slinky bras and barely there panties underneath her cowgirl flannels and work jeans on the days she was due at the ranch.

After she’d proven herself with the tagging on the first day, Bill was more and more content to send her out there alone. First it was one day a week, then two, then all three. Bill was only making the trip to the ranch once or twice a month as summer peaked to help when they had a large number of cows to preg-check.

She spent a lot more time working on the horses when she was by herself. A few cowboys apparently didn’t know how to cool an animal down. They nearly lost a stunning quarter horse to colic when a cowboy let the horse eat sand, but Jacob managed to keep the animal on its feet until Mary Beth got the tube threaded up its nose and its gut cleared.

Jacob fired the cowboy who’d let the horse eat sand. “I told you, knuckleheads,” he muttered as Tommy Yellow Robe escorted the cussing ex-cowboy off the ranch.

“Not all of them,” she replied, looking him dead in the eye.

“You’d be surprised,” he responded, his face still.

That’s how it was. When they were on the ranch, around the hands, he was unreadable, the epitome of the strong, silent cowboy. At the café, Mary Beth saw about three minutes where he showed hints of being a regular guy—except for the mask—interested in regular-guy things like the opposite sex and food. But as soon as Mrs. Browne called his name, the regular guy disappeared again, and he got as unreadable as Kip.

Mary Beth wanted to know more about the mysterious girl, but she sensed that Jacob might take any approach as a threat, and the way he handled his knife on the ranch made it clear that any threat would be quickly dispatched. So she kept her distance, trying to figure out Jacob on the ranch and Kip from her table at the café.

Aside from Jacob’s cold work demeanor, the ranch days were pretty much what she’d hoped they’d be. She never saw Buck, although she kept an eye out for him at all times. But the horses and cows kept her busy.

The ranch horses—sturdy, efficient, trained animals—did indeed need a lot of maintenance, and Mary Beth enjoyed working on them. But she was itching to see the mustangs Bill had told her about. Finally, one Thursday after they’d spent the morning on the ranch horses, Jacob saddled up Jezebel and pointed the horses away from the normal trail to the pastures.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked after about two miles had melted behind them.

“Mustangs,” he replied without looking back.

Undeterred by the gruff reply, she kept going. “Bill said you were quite the businessman.” She marveled as they rode past a young Lakota riding bareback. It almost looked like he was guarding the place.

“We aren’t ignorant savages, you know,” he scoffed, a trace of irritated emotion creeping past the cold exterior.

She glared at the side of his face, but he didn’t see it. “Never even crossed my mind.”

The mustang—a spectacular young stallion named Tahalo—had all the classic symptoms of bowed tendons, but it wasn’t advanced. “Okay. No biggie,” Mary Beth soothed the jittery animal while she looked at the immaculate barn. “I’ll inject dextrose, an irritant solution, compounded with lidocaine. That will stimulate the healing process to kick back on.”

“A solution? Bill used to pin-fire them.”

“I think we’ve moved beyond hot metal spikes, don’t you?” she snipped. “If this doesn’t work, I can split the tendons, but that’s major surgery, and he’s not far gone. This should work, as long as you wrap him properly and slowly reintroduce him to exercise. It may be a year before he can do barrels again.” She couldn’t help herself. Trying not to smirk, she added, “You can still stud him. He won’t have any problems.”

Jacob actually blushed but was saved by another young man walking past the stall, his long hair gathered into a loose tail that flowed halfway down his back and a nose that looked like he’d stolen it directly from an eagle.

“
Wačhínmayaya hwo?
” he asked Jacob, his eyes barely flitting to Mary Beth.

It seemed like half of these Lakota guys never even looked at her. Mary Beth hadn’t decided if it was because she was a woman vet or if she was white, but either way, it was starting to get on her nerves. And every guy she’d seen around here looked like he was barely 18. Invisible and ancient, she grumbled silently. And dumb. It was really starting to grate when they all talked about her in Lakota, no matter how beautiful the language was.

“Hiyá, Dave,
tanyán naúnžinpe ló
,” Jacob replied, and with a tilt of his head, the young man was gone.

Mary Beth shot Jacob a sharp look, her hands on her hips.

“I hire the young ones for the horses,” he said simply in response. “Tommy started out here. That was Dave. One of the best. He helps run the local rodeo.”

“You train the new guys on the mustangs instead of the cows?” she asked incredulously.

“Horses are a part of the tribe.” He began to caress the stallion’s nose with long, even strokes. Mary Beth watched his careful hands running over the fur with a steady, even pressure as he continued, “Cattle aren’t. I only take on the ones who are capable of understanding the old ways.”

That snapped her attention away from his powerful hands. She bent over to ready the syringe and decided to ask what the old ways were, but as she stood, she saw that Jacob had Tahalo in a near trance.

“We need to tie him so I can do the injections,” she said quietly, afraid to break the daze Jacob had cast.

“No, we don’t,” he replied. “Just be calm.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded as he began to whisper in Lakota in the horse’s ear.

Hesitantly, Mary Beth knelt beside the animal. Horses didn’t like this because it hurt. She couldn’t blame them—who did like needles under tendons?—but
not
having the horse tied was an invitation to being squished by a one-ton animal in pain.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, preparing to jump out of the way when the stallion reared. But as the needle sank deep, the horse didn’t move. His muscles barely even twitched as she completed the series of shots that normally sent horses into spasms of panic.

When she stood, Jacob’s eye was trained on her while he continued to stroke the animal’s face. His black-blue eye looked deep into hers as his fingers steadily rubbed the horse’s fur. Mary Beth froze, feeling as paralyzed by his gaze as the horse had been by his touch, and suddenly aware of her frilly green and pink panties.

“Are you done?” his voice was low and quiet, seeming to vibrate not from his mouth but directly out of his chest. She could barely nod as he held her captive with his power. “Then get out of the way.”

The order broke the spell he had her under. She gathered her bag and quickly moved out of the stall.

In an instant, Jacob was beside her. A second later, Tahalo sprang back to life, whinnying and shaking as the pain suddenly hit him.

“What just happened here?” Mary Beth asked. “Are you some sort of horse whisperer or something?”

Dave walked back through leading a colt. “
Yuš’ínyeyaya hwo
?” he demanded, his eyes laughing.

“
Kitányela
. Dave,
Thahálo awányanka yo
,” he said as he picked up Mary Beth’s packs and walked out to Jezebel.

“Okay, can I tell you how much it irritates the hell out of me when you do that?”

“Do what?” he asked, his eye laughing at her.

“When you and all your friends talk about me in Lakota. I’m going to start cussing in Vietnamese every time you do it.”

That pulled him up short. “You cuss in Vietnamese?”

Mary Beth stuck her chest out a bit. “Quite well too.”

He stared at her for a moment, but she didn’t flinch.