The Cowboy Who Broke the Mold (5 page)

“I’m staying,” she said with sudden resolution.

Whether it was disgust or admiration reflected in Jud- son Horn’s eyes, Carrie wasn’t sure. She knew only that
she was done running and that she was determined to make Harmony her home.

“Suit yourself,” Judson said, his expression a studied mask of indifference. Reaching into the glove compartment, he pulled out an envelope with her name typed upon it and handed it to her through the open window.

With that, Judson tipped his hat and threw the pickup into gear.

Something in that simple gesture made Carrie’s heart beat more quickly. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something undefinably sexy about that damned cowboy hat.

As dust rose about the receding vehicle, she noticed that Judson Horn didn’t so much as glance back.

She was on her own.

S
chool was to start in less than a week, and she didn’t know where to begin. First there was enough house cleaning in both buildings to keep her busy for a month. Then there was the fact that she wasn’t sure how to organize one schoolroom to accommodate eighteen children at six different grade levels. Still, those worries would have to be temporarily put aside. Right now food was her most imminent problem. Aware that the half a hamburger she’d eaten in Atlantic City wouldn’t last her long, she realized that somehow she was going to have to get comfortable driving a beat-up, old stick shift— and fast.

Sinking to the front steps of the schoolhouse, Carrie felt the tears spill down her face. The surprising thing was that they weren’t tears of self-pity but rather of unexpected joy. Beneath the never-ending Wyoming sky, she felt spiritually cleansed. The sun filtered through the quaking aspen, splaying exquisite patterns upon the ground. The air she breathed was sweet and
clean. The rippling of the river and the rustling of the Jeaves seemed to her the most soothing sounds on earth.

High above two eagles circled, brushing wing tips on clouds before separating and going their own ways. A sharp pain ripped through Carrie as she was reminded of the engagement she had severed back in Chicago. From the very start she had worried about the possible consequences of mixing business with pleasure. Never get involved with the boss, she had told herself, but Scott Ballson insisted that the fact that he was her prin- cipal had nothing to do with their out-of-school rela- tionship. He assured her that their private lives were their own.

Then again, Carrie reminded herself bitterly, he had also told her he’d back her a hundred percent. In truth, Scott had stood behind her only long enough to stab her in the back.

“Just because I changed a student’s grade?” he had sputtered incredulously, staring at the engagement ring she had pressed into his palm. “I can’t believe you’re acting so childishly.”

“It’s a matter of betrayal.”

“It’s a matter of politics,” he had scoffed, alluding to the fact that Cindy Lawton’s father was on the school board and that the failing mark the senior had earned in Carrie’s class not only rendered her ineligible to play in the state basketball tournament but also jeopardized the pretty senior’s graduation, as well. When Carrie had adamantly refused Scott’s request to raise the grade, he exercised the “administrative privilege” of changing it himself—without her consent or knowledge.

“I hate to be the one to burst your bubble, Carrie, but it’s the way of the world. Everyone does it.”

“I don’t,” she had said with conviction.

“Excuse me,” Scott had added maliciously, “I meant to say it’s important to anyone who wants to keep a job in education…And that just happens to be me. Have you ever thought how
your
obstinacy might endanger
my
job?”

As usual, Scott was able to twist things around so that she was the one left feeling guilty. He was able to temporarily smooth things over, but Carrie felt uneasy about her decision to reconsider breaking off their en- gagement. Uneasy enough that when she was in the girls’ bathroom one day and accidentally overheard Cindy talking to a friend, she neither plugged her ears nor stepped out from behind the stall to identify herself.

“How
did
you get that grade changed in Miss Raben’s class? She’s such a stickler about eligibility,” asked a shrill, bubble-popping voice through the metal stall door.

“Easy,” came a laughing reply.

For a moment Carrie feared the girl’s explanation would be drowned out by the gurgle of water splashing in a sink.

“I just gave our horny principal a little of what his goody-two-shoes fiancée’s been holding out on. Can you imagine anyone being a virgin at
her
age?”

The wind that roared through Carrie’s entire being threatened to blow her spirit away like a dry reed. Her desecration was complete. She didn’t know which was worse—to be so completely duped by a man who would stoop so low as to abuse his position or to be made to feel a freak by a loose teenager willing to demean her- self for so little in return.

After a heartfelt cry that lasted the better part of her planning period, Carrie had marched straight out of the bathroom and into Scott’s office. When confronted, he’d
vehemently protested her accusation, but his initial ex- pression belied the truth. Carrie’s resignation followed the next day. As well as the reason why mailed to every member of the school board.

Scott was outraged, dangerously so. And Carrie felt certain he would have made good his threat to do her bodily harm as well as keep her from ever getting an- other teaching job altogether had she not discovered a listing in the placement bulletin indicating Harmony School District was anxious to fill this last minute po- sition. A follow-up call confirmed they were, in fact, desperate.

The experience left her sour on all men. The safest course of action, Carrie decided, was to simply assume they all were creeps until proven otherwise. She cer- tainly didn’t need to be kicked by the same mule twice to know that she would never risk her heart and her pride like that again with any man—let alone one in a position of authority over her. No way, never again.

Watching the pair of eagles seek opposite ends of the horizon, Carrie knew if she could ever truly begin the healing process, it would be beneath this unending blue sky. The exact color of Judson Horn’s eyes, it defied a paintbrush.

Slipping a fingernail beneath an edge of the tear- spattered envelope that he had given her, Carrie slit it open. An invitation for a districtwide ice cream social fell into her lap.

She smiled.

Hope rested gently on her shoulder like a sparrow. All alone in the world for the first time in her life, she was surprised how very much she liked the feeling.

On his way out of Harmony, Jud swerved to miss a gray tabby cat that had darted out in front of his pickup.
He chastised himself for almost getting himself killed just because something in that wild cat’s eyes reminded him of the woman he had just left behind. He couldn’t get over the fact that she’d actually fallen for that old chestnut about jackalopes. Telling himself that the silly woman deserved whatever she got, Jud figured that if a good dose of humility hastened her departure, he was, after all, only doing her a favor in the long run. Still, something haunting in the youthful schoolteacher’s na- iveté pulled at his conscience.

Muttering an oath, Judson threw on the brakes and flipped a U-turn in the middle of the road. All the way back up that dusty road, he swore at his own soft heart. Of course, the virtuous thing to do was to go back and tell her the truth about the mythical jackalope before it ended up causing her any real embarrassment. Although he knew she’d be spitting mad to discover he’d been joshing her, for some inexplicable reason Judson pre- ferred she hear it from him rather than from someone else. Assuming that she was probably just now coming to terms with the terrible mistake she’d made and was in need of comforting, he prepared himself to find the new schoolteacher bawling her pretty little eyes out.

But what he found awaiting him in the school yard upon his return was something else entirely. There on the merry-go-round spun a very undignified, uninhibited maiden. Carrie’s jacket, high heels and nylons lay neatly stacked on the hood of the old pickup as she clung tightly to the merry-go-round bar and leaned far back to stare up at the cloudless sky. Her hair swished softly in the breeze as she whirled around and around, oblivious to the fact that she was not alone.

The sight took Judson’s breath away. He was simultaneously
filled with pure, unmitigated lust and the de- sire to momentarily abandon his adult responsibilities and join this enchantress astride the merry-go-round.

“Just a kid herself,” he whispered to himself.

Reluctant to honk the horn and make his presence known, Judson was quick to assure himself that there really wasn’t any reason why the truth couldn’t wait another day. Backing silently down the road, he tried to erase from his mind the image of Carrie Raben playing on a merry-go-round. Unfortunately it proved as indel- ible and stirring as the memory of her lithe body pressed against his.

After indulging in her bit of playground fun, Carrie set about the business of moving in. She attacked the dirt and grime of her new home with the vengeance of a crusader. She was sure she had burned up more energy than in any of her costly aerobic classes. By mid- afternoon, she was ready for a break. Offering silent thanksgiving to her father for insisting she learn how to drive on a stick shift when she turned sixteen, Carrie crawled into the driver’s seat of her old pickup and searched the contents of the glove box for a map. Luck- ily she found one. Although she was rusty, it quickly came back to her, and soon Carrie was bouncing down the washboardy road toward Lander where she pur- chased not only groceries but also a few things at the local department store to make her new home more liv- able.

She found the town as rustic and charming as Har- mony itself. Populated with friendly, unpretentious peo- ple who made her feel right at home, Lander was a pleasant contrast to the fast-paced, impersonal atmo- sphere of the big city she had left behind. Carrie hoped
this idyllic hideaway never underwent the crass com- mercialism of Aspen, Vail or Jackson Hole. As far as she was concerned, Carrie thought as she headed out of town, Lander was perfect just as it was.

By the time she had unpacked her supplies, made a plateful of brownies to take to the social and put the finishing touches to her decor, Carrie was exhausted.

Slipping between clean sheets that evening, she sur- veyed the results of her hard work with satisfaction. Elbow grease, new curtains and slipcovers had helped to transform her new home into a cheerful if not elegant spot to spend the next nine months.

She rose late the next morning and decided to start the day by indulging in a languid bubble bath and taking her time to get ready for the ice cream social. This would be her first opportunity before Open House to make a good first impression on her new boss and as- sociates, and she was looking forward to making their acquaintance. Dressing with care, she chose a simple flowered sundress with a short white jacket to cover her bare shoulders.

On her way to her first small-town social, Carrie tried to use the forty-five-mile drive to Lander to collect her thoughts. But the prospect of seeing Judson Horn again sent her pulses leaping. What exactly was it about that man’s eyes that defied a woman to break through that thin layer of ice to dive to the bottom of those blue, blue depths? Insanity, she wagered, recalling her prom- ise to keep her distance from all men in the future.

Carrie arrived right on time at the park with a plate of brownies and a nervous smile. Surrounded by aged cottonwoods and traversed by a brook, Lander City Park was quaint and enchanting. Children climbed happily on the playground equipment as adults mingled around
the picnic tables. She stopped momentarily to watch a tennis match between two athletic boys.

She and Scott had been a strong doubles team, and just watching a short volley made her feel suddenly melancholy. Gently, she reminded herself that it took more than a strong backhand and a killer serve to make a marriage. Strength of character and fidelity headed her list, although she would have been lying to say that sheer physical attraction wasn’t right up there near the top, as well.

When Judson spied Carrie Raben standing forlornly beside the tennis courts, he felt his heart lurch unnatu- rally against his chest. She looked as pretty as a bouquet of mountain wildflowers. How was it that her looks seemed to grow on him each time he saw her?

“Whoa,” he admonished himself, pulling hard on his own reins.

He recognized the feeling that welled up inside him- self for what it was—pure, unadulterated lust. Judson shook his head in self-reproof. He hadn’t been able to get Carrie Raben out of his head for more than a minute since he’d left her yesterday blithely playing on the merry-go-round. Assuring himself that it was simply re- sidual guilt that he was feeling, Judson determined that the first matter of the afternoon would be to set matters straight between them. All things considered, it just might be a lot safer making the truth about the fictitious jackalope known in a public place.

A deep, resonant voice shattered Carrie’s solitude, plunging her into a pair of clear blue eyes. Judson Horn was wearing jeans and a bright Western print shirt that snapped up the front. Shocked at the way her blood
raced through her veins at the sight of him, Carrie at- tempted to insert a tone of nonchalance into her greet- ing.

“Hello,” she said, uncomfortably aware that he was looking at her as if she were the most delectable sundae around.

“You look nice today,” he drawled.

The compliment centered a tight ball of pleasure low in her stomach, which exploded, leaving warm spots of pink upon her cheeks.

“Thanks,” she managed to say without stammering, and was rewarded with a slow, sexy smile that reached right inside her and heightened her already-keen sexual awareness of him.

Just then a hefty man wearing a blood-red tie ap- proached with an outstretched hand and stepped be- tween them. “You must be Carrie Raben,” he beamed, pumping her hand up and down. “I’m Bill Madden. I interviewed you over the phone.”

Grateful for the friendly ease with which her super- intendent seemed to accept her, Carrie smiled warmly.

“Since you’ve already met the chairman,” he said, pulling her over to a nearby group of people, “let me introduce you to the rest of the school board.”

Chairman!

The word rang as loudly as a gunshot, and Carrie felt it hit her between her eyes as surely as if it had been a bullet.

Judson Horn was her boss!

Carrie couldn’t believe her ears. What demented pleasure would anyone evoke in purposely leading her to believe he was merely a hired hand when he was, in fact, the chairman of the school board? How could she have ever deluded herself into thinking Judson Horn
had a single redeeming quality? Wondering how this devil-in-no-disguise ever got himself elected to the school board in the first place, she somehow managed a gracious smile as her superintendent led her to the table where the other members of the board were seated.