One Fine Cowboy (18 page)

Junior nickered softly when Charlie swung the stall door open. “Buddy,” she said, setting down a plastic bucket full of grooming gear. “How you doing today?”

She approached him cautiously, breathing down his nose in a slightly speeded-up run-through of their first encounter. When he calmed and accepted her presence, she ran one hand down his neck, then massaged the whorl on his forehead. The horse closed his eyes and blew out a long, contented breath.

“I don’t know what to do, Junior,” she said. She slipped her palm under the currycomb’s backstrap and began massaging his gleaming bay coat with the slow circular motions Sam had demonstrated on Honey. “I should leave, huh? Get out of Dodge before this gets any worse.”

The horse let out a falsetto whinny that sounded distinctly negative.

“I know,” Charlie said. “I hate to leave Nate with Sandi. It’s like, I don’t know, like leaving an animal with an abusive owner. Same with Sam.” The stallion lowered his head and cocked one foot, letting his lashes drift down to cover his eyes. Sighing, he leaned into the pressure of her hand.

“I don’t think she treats them right, Junior. It’s not just that I’m jealous.”

The horse tossed his head and rolled his eyes.

“No, really. It’s just that I—I’ve gotten so I care, I guess.” Charlie worked her way down the horse’s muscular shoulder and across his back, then set a hand on his rump and stepped slowly around to the other side. “And how the hell did that happen? He’s a cowboy, for God’s sake. But he’s different, you know?” she said. “I mean, you like him. And you should know. You’re a horse.”

Straightening to work a cloud of dust and dander from Junior’s back, she began singing the low blues song that had soothed him the day before. Gradually, her concern for Nate, her worries about Sam, and her fears for the future gave way to peace. There was only herself, the stallion, and the song, spotlit by a shaft of sunlight in the sweet-smelling hay-filled barn.

She’d crooned out the second verse and was rounding the corner into the chorus when Junior opened his eyes and lifted his head, his ears flicking nervously backward and forward. Whinnying softly, he stamped a heavy front foot.

“Nice singing.”

Blinking as if she’d just awakened from sleep, Charlie turned to see Taylor Barnes resting his forearms on the rough wood edging the stall. He’d rolled up the sleeves on a striped Wrangler shirt, and she couldn’t help noticing the ropy muscles flexing when he shifted his grip.

“Nice horse too,” he said.

She almost said “nice arms,” but she stopped herself just in time.

Junior nodded his head, and for a minute, Charlie thought he was agreeing—but what the horse was really doing was expressing his unease at the nearness of this stranger. He stamped again, this time dropping one black hoof perilously close to Charlie’s own foot.

“Nice, but feisty,” she said, keeping her voice soft and low. “He’s a little scared of strangers. Could you back off just a little? Like over there?” She nodded almost imperceptibly toward the hay bales stacked against the wall a few feet behind Taylor.

“Sure,” Taylor said. “Keep on doing what you’re doing. I just didn’t want to poke around in here without letting you know I was around.” He settled onto the bales and rested against the wall, his long legs crossed at the ankles. “I’ve had some pretty private conversations with my own horse. Shared a lot of secrets.”

Wondering how much he’d heard, Charlie finished up Junior’s broad rump, then bent to trade the currycomb for a brush. With long, gentle strokes, she smoothed Junior’s gleaming coat. “They’re good listeners,” she said.

“Yeah,” Taylor said. “But it’s more than that. There’s something wise about them. I mean, Teaspoon doesn’t say a word when I tell him my troubles, but somehow, whenever we finish one of those one-sided conversations, I end up with everything all figured out.”

“Teaspoon?” Charlie smiled at the odd name.

“He’s a retired barrel horse. Girl who had him called him Sugar. Couldn’t let that stand. Figured Teaspoon was kind of related. Close enough, and he seems to prefer it.”

“Right,” Charlie said, holding back a smile and turning back to her work. “But I’m not sure even Junior can straighten out the mess I’m in.”

“Want to talk about it? I’m just a human, but maybe I could help.”

To Charlie’s surprise, she felt a sudden urge to spill her story to this stranger. Of course, she felt like she knew Chance Newton—everyone who’d ever seen
West with the Wind
felt the same way. But Chance was just a character in a story, she reminded herself. This was Taylor Barnes. And she didn’t know a thing about the man under the movie star façade—except that he’d abandoned his daughter, just like her own father. He was hardly qualified to give advice to anybody.

“Let’s see,” Barnes said. “I’ll wager it’s got something to do with Blondie out there.” He grinned. “Something to do with how she’s got our favorite cowboy jammed up against the wall.”

Charlie shook her head, heat stealing over her face. “It’s not my business,” she said flatly. “Or yours.”

“Nope. Probably not. But just so you know, he’s got some issues you might not know about. That little girl was born premature. Medical bills just about ruined him, I think.”

“I wondered,” Charlie said slowly. “I knew the ranch had been in the family, so I couldn’t figure out how he could be having so much trouble making a go of it.”

“Guess it’s mortgaged to the hilt,” Taylor said.

Charlie turned back to the horse. “Like I said—none of our business. Besides, shouldn’t you be out there bonding with your daughter?”

Taylor shook his head. “We’re taking it slow,” he said.

“I guess you could say that.” Charlie couldn’t keep the bite out of her voice. “Ten years between visits is pretty slow, all right.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“I’m sure there is,” Charlie said evenly. She tried to swallow her anger, but it stuck in her craw like a piece of dry cake. When she looked over at Taylor, it was like she could see her own father, living out his life somewhere else, with barely a thought for his abandoned daughter. What would she do if he turned up and wanted a reconciliation?

She’d walk away. That’s all men like that deserved. It would just about kill her, but she’d walk away. Show him how it felt.

“I’m sure there’s a reason,” she said. “But there’s no excuse.”

“You’re right,” he said. “But I was wondering if you could help me out. You’re in psychology, right? I really want to fix things with Phaedra, but I don’t even know where to start.”

“I can tell you where to start,” Charlie said. “About ten years ago.” She shifted, turning her back on the actor.

“Look, that wasn’t my choice,” Taylor said. “Her mother’s done everything she can to keep me from seeing her. Including telling her I’m a first-class bastard who doesn’t care about her.”

“And you do?” Charlie asked.

Taylor nodded, accepting her sharp tone as if he deserved it. That gained him a few points, but still…

“It’s going to take a while to convince her I’m sincere,” he said.

“And you are?”

“I am,” Taylor said. “I’ve wanted to see her. I really have. But her mother made some—some threats. Said she’d make—accusations—unless I sent the check every month and stayed out of her life.”

Charlie gave Junior a final stroke with the brush and set it back in the bucket, then carried the whole kit out of the stall and sat down beside Taylor.

“What kind of accusations?” she asked.

“The worst kind.” Taylor was staring down at his hands, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Look, I shouldn’t talk about this. No offense, but every time I confide in somebody there’s a risk it’ll end up in the tabloids. So until I know you better…”

All of a sudden, Charlie realized what kind of accusations Taylor’s wife was talking about. Taylor had money and influence, but he was a public figure, and gossip travels fast. One whisper and he’d be the next Michael Jackson.

“I guess I can understand that,” she said. “But I’m not sure Phaedra will. You have a lot of fence to mend.”

When had she started talking in cowboy metaphors? She tried to think of something Jersey-ish to say, but swearing didn’t seem appropriate.

“I sure do,” Taylor said. “It’s going to be a long road, and I don’t even know where to start. I know more about horses than about teenagers. I should be going to a parenting clinic, not a horse training one.”

“Well, maybe you can apply the same theories,” Charlie said. “That’s kind of what I’m going for with my research. How to learn from our interactions with animals, use them to enhance our relationships. I’m thinking their cues are more subtle, harder to pick up on. They bring out instincts we’ve forgotten how to use.”

Taylor nodded, pressing his lips together and looking down into his lap. “I could try that,” he said. “But it’s so different. I mean, I’m not going to put a halter on her and lead her around, you know?”

Charlie laughed. “Good thing, because I don’t think she’d let you. But you can’t push her. Not after all this time.”

The angled shaft of sunlight creating a dance hall for dust motes above the golden hay dimmed, then brightened as someone stepped into the barn.

“You’re right,” Sandi said. “You can’t push me. Not after all I’ve been through with Nate.” She tossed her hair and shot Taylor a teasing glance. “But when I get tossed off a bronc, I just climb right back on again.”

“I thought you were afraid of horses,” Charlie said. “Besides, we weren’t talking about you.” Grabbing the grooming bucket, she stood up. “Believe it or not,
”
she muttered.

Sandi instantly took her seat beside Taylor and graced him with a luminous smile before turning back to Charlie. “You know not to get anywhere near that stallion, right? He’s vicious.”

“I just got done grooming him,” Charlie said.

Sandi’s eyes widened. “You did?”

Charlie nodded. She told herself to stop there, but she couldn’t resist a childish urge to one-up Sandi. “Nate showed me how,” she said.

“Charlie’s a good hand with the horses,” Taylor said. “Got a real gift.”

Sandi sniffed and looked away. “Well, it’s almost time for dinner,” she said. “So I guess Nate needs your help again.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes. “He doesn’t need my help,” she said. “This whole dude ranch thing was your idea, so I guess the cooking and cleaning is
your
job now.” She grinned. “Got yourself just what you wanted, right?” She punched a fist in the air in a mock feminist salute. “You go, girl.”

Sandi frowned, and a deep crease appeared between her brows, a crack in the gleaming façade of her beauty. “I took a look at all that dreck you stowed in the kitchen,” she said. “I haven’t got a clue what to do with it. I mean, eggplants? Brown rice?”

“For ratatouille,” Charlie said.

“Rat-a-what?” Taylor grimaced. “There aren’t actually rats in it, are there?”

Charlie shook her head. “Nope. Just onions, tomatoes—you know. It’s good. And besides, Phaedra’s a vegetarian. So am I.”

“So we all have to suffer?” Sandi scowled. “I don’t know how to cook that stuff.”

“Guess you’d better figure it out, ’cause it’s all we’ve got,” Charlie said. “Unless you know what to do with a brisket, or a boneless shoulder from some poor deformed cow.” She turned to Taylor. “I think our break’s probably over now. Time to get cracking on the horse whispering.” She slanted her eyes toward the blonde. “You know, those lessons we paid Sandi all that money for.”

She gave the woman an imperious wave. “Do me a favor, would you? Go tell Nate we’re ready for him,” Charlie said. “I sure am glad you showed up to help. The place was a little understaffed, you know? Compared to what you promised in that brochure.” She grinned. “You coming, Taylor? Nate said I might be able to get a saddle on Trouble today.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Sandi said. “I’d say you’ll be dealing with trouble, all right.”

Charlie whirled. “What does that mean?”

Sandi widened her eyes. “Oh, nothing. That’s the name of your horse, right? Trouble. So appropriate.”

***

“Okay,” Nate said, opening the gate to the round pen. “Charlie, Trouble’s ready for you.”

Trouble didn’t look ready. In fact, she was doing her damndest to kick the round ring apart, rearing up and hitting it with her front hooves, then turning and kicking with her heels. When that didn’t work, she took a fast turn around the perimeter and slammed into the gate once, twice, three times, then stood trembling, staring at the immovable wall. Throwing up her head, she let out a high, desperate whinny that pierced Charlie’s heart like the wail of a baby.

“What do I do?”

Nate handed her a flexible pole with a scrap of fabric on the end. “Get in there and keep her moving with the flag.”

“You don’t want me to do like I did with Junior?” Nate had explained today’s strategy before they started, but Charlie still hoped she could somehow make it easier.

“Nope. This is different. You’re going to ride her today. You need to be the boss, not her best friend.”

Charlie sighed. She was already Trouble’s best friend—well, her best human friend, anyway. The horse ate from her hand, let her stroke her velvety muzzle, and even allowed her to tease the tangles out of her mane. She was more than willing to give the horse time—to let her get accustomed to people before putting her to work.

But Nate was adamant. “The quicker she learns to trust you, the easier her life will be,” he’d said. “And she won’t trust you until she respects you. It’s not harsh, Charlie. You’re not going to hurt her. Just push her a little.”

Charlie slid off the fence and into the soft raked dirt of the ring, taking her place in the center as Trouble took off and galloped around the perimeter, then arched her back and crow-hopped a few times before kicking up her heels and taking off again.

“You have got to be kidding,” Charlie said. “I’m going to ride her
today
?”

“Don’t let her see you doubt it,” Nate said.

Charlie took a step toward Trouble, then danced away as the horse flailed her back legs. “She’ll kick me.”

“She can’t kick you when she’s running away,” Nate said. “Holler at her.”

“She’ll be scared of me.”

“Okay. Guess you can’t do it.” Nate sighed and turned toward the rest of the group. “Phaedra, you want to try?”

“No, wait,” Charlie said, feeling panic rise in her chest. “I can do it.”

“Really?” Nate raised a doubting eyebrow. “You were just listing all the reasons why you couldn’t. Trouble seems to believe every one of them.”

The horse backed up and slammed into the fence again, as if to demonstrate her faith in Charlie’s reasoning.

“No, I can do it.”

“Don’t tell me. Tell her.”

“But I’m driving her away. I don’t get how that helps.”

Nate stepped into the ring and stood beside her. Taking the flag, he tapped the ground behind the horse and set her in motion.

“Trust me. Sometimes when someone pushes you away over and over, it makes you want nothing more than to be with them.”

Charlie gave him a sharp look. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

But maybe it did. She’d pushed Nate away—after their first kiss, that morning after they fell into bed together, and the day they picked up the horses. She’d pushed him away over and over, but he hadn’t given up. If anything, he seemed to want her more.

She hoped he didn’t think her behavior was a calculated strategy. She wasn’t manipulating him. She genuinely didn’t think a relationship between the two of them was a possibility.

Well, she thought that most of the time. But once in a while, joining up with Nate seemed like the only way to set her universe on the right path.

“Trust me, it’s working.” Nate handed her the flag. “Just keep pushing. You’ll see.”

Taking a deep breath, Charlie took the flag and turned her attention to the horse. Waving the flag, she took a quick step forward, and the mare set off at a gallop.

“That’s the first thing you’ve done right,” Nate said. “With the horse, I mean.” He grinned. “Other than that, you’ve done lots of things right, but never mind. Keep her going.”

Charlie set her jaw and kept the flag moving behind the horse.

“Keep the flag behind her shoulder and don’t let her stop.”

Trouble kept running, sweat glistening on her dark coat, one rolling eye focused on Charlie. She slowed and Charlie let the flag touch her rump.

“Go,” she said.

“Sound like you mean it,” Nate said.

“Yah! Go!”

The horse kept running, but she slowed, and her circle grew smaller. She lowered her head, still watching Charlie, still running.

“She’s tired,” Charlie said.

“That’s what you want,” Nate said. “Keep her going.”

Charlie felt tears heating the back of her eyes as she flicked the flag to keep the mare running. Trouble’s eyes were softer now, begging Charlie for a break as clearly as if the horse had spoken. She worked her mouth and dropped her head, as if pleading to be allowed to stop.

“That’s what you’re looking for,” Nate said. “See how she’s chewing and dropping her head? That’s submissive. And she’s watching you, paying attention. Ease up now.”

Charlie stilled, lowering the flag, and the horse slowed, then stopped, facing her from just a few feet away.

“Touch her with the flag.”

Charlie cast a doubting eye toward Nate, then gently brushed the mare’s shoulder with the flag. Trouble started and dodged away, then stood still, watching Charlie.

“Again,” Nate said. “All over.”

Charlie touched the horse again and Trouble stood still, trembling as Charlie stroked her back with the scrap of fabric, tickled her legs, her belly, even her ears. The horse stepped aside once or twice, but finally submitted.

Nate smiled. “Now you get to pet her.”

Charlie smoothed the horse’s damp coat with her hand. “Sorry, baby,” she said. “So sorry. It’s okay.”

“Don’t apologize to her,” Nate said. “Praise her if you want, but you’re doing her a favor, and you need to show that with your attitude. She can read you like a book, so be confident. It’ll be easier for her if she sees you as a leader.”

He slid from the fence and handed Charlie a lead rope. “Now you’re going to take her out and snub her to that post over there.” He pointed. “Tie her high and close, so she can’t get a leg over the rope. She’s going to struggle, but she’ll be okay.”

Charlie did as she was told, clipping the rope to Trouble’s halter and tying the horse to the post with a quick-release knot. Trouble’s mood changed in an instant. Setting her hooves, she pulled against the rope, twisting her head every which way in an effort to escape.

Charlie tried to stay quiet, but she couldn’t help herself. “She’ll hurt herself.”

“She might,” Nate said. “But not much, and only if she fights. It shouldn’t take long for her to figure that out.”

It shouldn’t have, but it did. Charlie watched Trouble from the corner of her eye as Doris ran through the same procedure with her buckskin. Trouble’s fiery nature flared up and she fought the rope through Doris’s whole session before she gave up and stood trembling at the post. Charlie watched, feeling every tug of the rope. By the time the horse stilled, she felt like she’d been through the torment herself.

“Now the tarp.” Nate tossed a blanket to Charlie. “Wave it over her back, over her head, around her feet—get her used to it. You’re almost there.”

Charlie flashed him a doubting look, but she did as she was told. Surprisingly, Trouble stood patiently while Charlie flicked the blanket all around her body.

“Okay,” Nate said. “She’s ready. Saddle up.”