The Cowboy Who Broke the Mold (7 page)

Judson was keenly aware of the subtle changes taking place in the new schoolteacher. For one thing she had abandoned her fine dresses for jeans and tennis shoes. Observing the tight fit of demin over feminine curves, he felt the sudden stir of desire. It made it damned hard to remember just how much he disliked his children’s teacher. In fact, the warm pressure pushing against his jeans was almost enough to make him forget the sting of a whip across his back.

Seeing the smile fade from Carrie’s face the moment she spotted him, Judson felt the sharp prick of rejection. Clearly Ms. Raben hadn’t softened any toward him. Well, how could he expect such a pretty, pampered An- glo princess to understand the forces that motivated him? Besides, he thought, swinging his long legs over the sagging barbed-wire fence, he didn’t give a damn what she thought of him. Not a damn.

Certain that everything she did, including her choice of attire, fell well out of the range of “school as Judson Horn remembered it,” Carrie wasn’t particularly sur- prised when the man interrupted her lessons a second day in a row. Assuming that he would gleefully report back to the rest of the board scandalous accounts of her creative approach to education, she greeted his presence with cool indifference. On the outside, that is. On the inside, every molecule in her being was on fire. She
found Judson’s presence more than just a little unset- tling.

On horseback, he looked the part of an old-fashioned Western hero. As he swung himself gracefully off the biggest horse she had ever seen and tethered it to the fence, Carrie reminded herself that she should be look- ing at him through the eyes of an employee, not a hot- blooded woman. One smooth move placed him on her side of the fence and in dangerous proximity. As he strode purposefully across the expanse of the play- ground, a devilish fist tightened around her heart.

What exactly was there about this man that caused her pulse to quicken so maddeningly? Her mother had warned her to stay away from such men. Men whose eyes could undress you and possess you in the selfsame glance. Men whose toughness in word and manner cov- ered their feelings. Men whose rough hands conjured up unladylike images of silken bodies entwined. Men who could break your heart just as surely as they could break a wild mustang and abandon you the instant you were tamed—

“What lesson are we learning here today?” Judson asked the class in a most cavalier manner.

Carrie was in the midst of deciding whether she should make him the focal point of a lesson in social skills or simply answer truthfully that this was part of a science unit on birds when the sound of angry honking interrupted her.

A fat goose with a pink bow tied around its neck rushed out from beneath the steps of the old school- house. Flapping its wings in consternation, the animal charged at Judson with malice in her yellow eyes.

The children exploded into gales of riotous laughter.

Raising a boot in self-defense, Judson looked at Car- rie as warily as at the goose that held him at bay.

“Meet Mother,” she said with the first genuine gig- gle he had heard from her lips.

The sound chased away the dark thunderclouds from his rugged features, and Judson crooked one eyebrow in her direction.

“Mother Goose?”

Nodding her head, Carrie smiled. “Your daughter had the honor of naming our watch goose.”

“Your what?”

“I got to thinking about what you said—that I should buy a weapon to protect my students, but since I don’t like the idea of guns being anywhere near children…”

“You bought a goose?” he finished for her.

Despite the fact that Judson was looking at her like she had temporarily misplaced her straitjacket, Carrie continued as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.

“Like I tell my students, when confronted with a problem the best place to look for answers is in the library. In my research I discovered that geese are mor- tal enemies of snakes, and I’m happy to report that since Mother has been on the job, she’s killed at least two snakes that I know of.”

Carrie simply could not resist adding with a self- satisfied smirk, “It appears she’s just as adept at han- dling the two-legged variety, as well…”

Judson suffered the indignation of the remark by em- ploying his trademark grin.

“And the pink bow?” he inquired. “Does research show that color causes less emotional stress to snakes?”

“No, it’s just to make sure no trigger-happy hunter mistakes Mother for wild game.”

Judson’s smile deepened to reveal matching dimples at the corners of his mouth. His voice dropped to a huskier tone, and he tossed her a wink. “Here I was going to offer my services in teaching you how to use a gun and you’ve gone and eliminated the need.”

That wink was Carrie’s undoing. How could such an innocent gesture twist her insides into knots that would baffle the most experienced Girl Scout? A jab of dis- appointment sliced through her at the thought of losing an opportunity to let this incredible hunk wrap his arms around her again. If teaching her how to use a gun was anywhere as sensual as showing her how to set a snare, she’d gladly fire Mother and start packing a pistol.

Roughly Carrie reminded herself how truly astound- ing her reaction was. Had she forgotten that this man had made her the laughing stock of the county? A frown creased her brow.

“Honk! Honk!”

Mother apparently had picked up on Carrie’s negative vibes. With wings outspread, the goose arched her slen- der neck and advanced upon her prey with the obvious intention of taking a series of well-aimed pecks at his leg.

Judson backed up a step. “Call her off!”

“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, eh, Mr. Horn?” Carrie smiled wickedly.

Now that the shoe was on the other foot, she was thoroughly enjoying herself. Dismissing her guardian with a slightly regal air, she reassured her, “You can run along now, Mother. I’ve got things under control here.”

Mother hesitated.

It was galling to Carrie that even the goose seemed
to recognize the obvious lie—that she was far from be- ing under control whenever Judson Horn was around.

“Go on,” she shooed sternly.

Mother waddled off a little ways, and Judson cleared his throat. He looked at the faces of the children gath- ered around them, all expectantly watching him. For a man who could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he had ever apologized, this was not going to be easy.

Sweeping his hat from his head, Judson assumed a contrite position. “I’d like to publicly set the record straight. It was wrong of me to lead you on the way I did about those jackalopes and…” He filled his lungs with a cleansing breath of fresh air. “I’m sorry.”

The words came out in a rush. As his own children’s mouths fell open, he silently dared them to say a single word.

Cowboy’s face split into a wide grin. He sharply el- bowed his sister, who seemed to be in shock.

Carrie knew exactly how Brandy was feeling. She hadn’t thought it in this particular man’s nature to admit to any personal wrongdoing. A public apology was more than she had ever expected. Clearly such an ad- mission in front of his own children was not an easy thing for him. She scrutinized his face to ascertain his sincerity.

“I accept your apology, Mr. Horn.”

Had he expected her to say anything else with her entire class looking on?

As a flicker of relief registered in those eyes of pure blue, the realization that this rough-and-ready cowboy had actually been nervous softened Carrie’s heart. His vulnerability touched her.

The rest of the world faded away as green eyes
smiled into blue, and the animosity between them was replaced with a tentative feeling of friendship—and something more. Call it chemistry. Call it lust. Call it downright stupidity. Whatever it was, it crackled be- tween them like electricity arching across a night sky.

And it was obvious to even the youngest in the group. Dismay illuminated Brandy’s fine features as she moved to her father’s side and possessively slipped her little hand into his.

The sound of a bus rattling down the dirt road re- minded Carrie and Judson of where they were. Snuffy waved broadly in their direction as she brought the bus to halt in front of the schoolhouse.

“Class is dismissed,” Carrie announced in a voice too shaky to convince Judson that she hadn’t been af- fected by the moment.

She had stared into his eyes in hazy anticipation, and something inside him had gone completely still. Had the circumstances not been so damnably wrong, he surely would have covered those tempting lips with his own and sampled their promised sweetness. If only to get her out of my system once and for all, he lamely added as an afterthought.

“Come on, Daddy,” Brandy entreated earnestly, pulling hard on his hand. “It’s time to go.”

Despite the warning lights flashing inside his head, he heard himself ask Carrie, “Will I see you at the Harvest Ball on Friday?”

The tiny pulse beating in Carrie’s throat belied the emotions she was trying so desperately to fight. If she wasn’t careful, she knew that small ache in her heart would explode into yearnings that she could not allow herself to feel. Yearnings that stubbornly refused to be ignored.

Despite her vow to keep her distance from any em- ployer who made her so very aware of herself as a woman, Carrie found herself nodding her head in affir- mation.

“I’ll be there.”

She had already received an invitation in the mail and had been informed that, as the newest member of this small community, her presence was expected in Atlantic City. Though reluctant to return to “Jackalope City,” as she’d affectionately dubbed it, it was a perfect op- portunity to get to know her students’ parents in a social atmosphere.

What harm could possibly come from a simple com- munity get-together? she asked herself, immediately blocking the frightening array of answers to that very question.

Judson’s gaze was pinned directly on her, and Car- rie’s pulse bounded. So graceful and fluid was this man in the simple movements of everyday life, she couldn’t help but wonder if he wouldn’t prove to be a wonderful dancer, as well. Clearly Judson Horn was the type of man who would do everything to perfection—including making love…

Cursing herself for the blush that rose to her face, Carrie told herself that Judson’s apology had set the tone for nothing more than a strictly professional rela- tionship. She couldn’t afford to blow that. She needed this job almost as much as she needed to believe she was in complete control of the romantic nature that she kept neatly tucked out of sight. Remembering how the past had so painfully enlightened her on the fact that romance was highly overrated, Carrie told herself she was far too old to believe in childish fairy tales. She
may be going to a country-western ball, but she cer- tainly didn’t fancy herself as Cinderella.

And even though Judson Horn’s incredible know- everything-tell-nothing blue eyes could melt icebergs, that didn’t necessarily make him Prince Charming.

T
hough Snuffy had told her that dress was informal, Carrie felt self-conscious in the Western clothing she had bought especially for the occasion. Cowboy boots clicking on hardwood floors, she felt like a fraud as she presented her invitation for the Harvest Ball at the his- toric Gold Diggers’ Inn. It was accepted with a flourish by an older man in nautical garb who told her to “Just call me Captain.” A woman with jet-black hair swept dramatically back from her face presented her with a room key. The proprietors, both New York City trans- plants, were deliciously eccentric. Feeling at home among misfits, Carrie felt suddenly glad that Snuffy had convinced her to splurge on an all-night “wingding.” Renting a room for the night would save her from driv- ing long, treacherous miles over mountain passes at night.

A familiar sound rose above the polite mingling of conversations in the room, vibrating deep inside her. Low and sexy, Judson Horn’s voice alone was enough
to raise her temperature to “simmering.” As green eyes met blue across the crowded room, Carrie felt a band cinch tight around her chest, cutting off her air supply. It should be illegal for a man to have eyes such a captivating shade of blue, Carrie thought to herself, keenly aware of the frisson of tension that made her skin tingle all over. In the few long strides it took him to cross the distance between them, she upbraided her- self for her involuntary reaction, sternly reminded her- self that their relationship was not of a romantic nature but rather one of rattlesnakes and bad practical jokes…and shared looks so devastating as to strip away her mask of cool indifference and leave her feeling na- ked in his presence.

Judson almost spilled his drink when Carrie entered the room. What had become of the stuffy Ms. Raben he had approached such a short time ago at the airport? Who was this sensual woman in tight-fitting black Wrangler jeans and a red silk blouse that clung to her like the subtle, suggestive fragrance of her perfume? Whoever she was, she made his head spin. As Judson noted that she turned every other head in the room, as well, a surge of sudden possessiveness jolted him. He was quick to note that he was the only Indian adrift in a sea of cowboy hats. The last time he’d stepped into an interracial relationship, it had almost cost him his life.

Purposely running a callused finger along the scar on his jaw, Judson reminded himself just how much trouble a pretty white woman could be. Unfortunately that re- minder was of little use against the response that rose unwillingly deep inside his belly.

“Looking the way you do tonight, I’d say you should’ve brought Mother along to protect you.”

His voice was as velvety as his gaze, caressing Carrie like a lover’s experienced hand. In open appreciation he perused her at length, starting with her legs, hesitating at her breasts, and lingering thoughtfully on her mouth for what seemed a lifetime. In actuality it was but a few seconds, but in that brief length of time, it took an act of supreme self-control for Carrie to refrain from nib- bling nervously at the pink lipstick she had so carefully applied earlier.

“I gave the dear old goose the night off,” she replied more coolly than she thought possible.

Judson’s unexpected compliment caused a burgeon- ing warmth to envelop her heart. Feeling her knees turn to the texture of warm rubber, Carrie sat upon an old- fashioned, red velvet settee. How could she possibly hope to retain any semblance of professionalism when he was looking at her like she was the main course for the evening?

Judson took a seat beside her, his nearness empha- sizing the narrow span of the furniture and reminding Carrie of why it had traditionally been dubbed a love seat. In the process of making himself comfortable by stretching his long legs out in front of him, Judson ac- cidentally brushed against her thigh. Even through lay- ers of clothing the contact was searing. Carrie flinched as if she had been touched by a branding iron. Every brain cell screamed that she should jump up and run while there was still time to save herself.

“Jud!”

A breathy, feminine voice rang out like the crack of a rifle. And, like a shot, it found the center of the target imprinted squarely on Carrie’s heart. A striking woman
of Native American descent, wearing a filmy yellow dress and as much turquoise jewelry as her lean frame could support, swept gracefully across the room. Com- ing to a stop in front of the settee, she held a jeweled hand out to Judson and pulled him to his feet.

The smile that he gave her as he took her hand made something wrench painfully inside Carrie’s chest. It was the kind of indulgent smile reserved for beautiful, ac- complished playthings, not for modest, inexperienced types such as herself. Gruffly, Carrie reminded herself that she was not the type of woman who wanted to be valued solely for her outward beauty. A good mind, a clear conscience and a kind heart—those were the stan- dards by which she preferred to be judged. Unfortu- nately such noble thoughts did little to fill the gnawing hole inside her.

“I’d like you to meet Carrie Raben,” Judson said. “Carrie, Estelle Hanway, an old friend of mine.”

Rising on unsteady legs, she reminded herself that it came as no surprise that Judson was involved with other women. Hadn’t he, after all, made of point of telling her as much the first day they had met? And hadn’t she herself already decided that nothing good could come of anything other than a professional relationship with the chairman of the school board? Just because lately he had thawed toward her didn’t mean she should read anything more into it.

“So you’re the new schoolmarm?” the dark beauty queried, arching a pencil-thin eyebrow in her direction.

Carrie grimaced at the antiquated term. “‘Marm’? Why that makes me sound ancient!”

Estelle’s big, brown eyes radiated hostility. A huge silver belt buckle cinched about her waist showed her trim figure off to its best advantage while attesting to
her status as a one-time rodeo queen. Carrie sensed in- tuitively that this particular woman wouldn’t hesitate to rope any female competition like a calf at branding time.

If she could have, she would have put Estelle’s mind at ease. If anything, the woman’s obvious infatuation with Judson only served to deepen Carrie’s steadfast resolve to keep things between them strictly profes- sional. Her heart was still under repair—for the next fifty or sixty years or so.

“Would ya mind gettin’ me a drink, babe?” Estelle asked, her voice as warm as dripping honey.

Noting with disgust how very like a puppy Judson jumped to do her bidding, Carrie stiffened as the stat- uesque woman eased herself into his vacant seat.

“Isn’t that the best-lookin’ rear you’ve ever seen on a man?” she commented to his receding backside.

Carrie’s only response was an awkward sputter.

“I see you’ve already noticed,” Estelle commented dryly.

Embarrassment stained Carrie’s cheeks. This woman so brazenly oozed sexuality that she felt drab and prud- ish by comparison. Discreetly dropping her gaze from the topic of conversation, she was glad when they were called to the dining room.

Throughout the first course, she tried not to focus on how Estelle managed to eat everything on her plate with one arm draped possessively over Judson’s shoulder. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to take another bite of the delicious food set in front of her. She picked up her glass of wine and took a gulp of the clear liquid. Feeling a delicious warmth spread through her, she took another sip. The pleasant, muzzy feeling slowly spreading
through her helped dull that sharp pain in her ab- domen that she was loathe to recognize as jealousy.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I kicked Jud’s fine-lookin’ butt in a game of strip poker?” Estelle asked the people seated at their table.

Despite the fact that Judson vehemently protested, she refused to be quieted.

“And then there was the time in high school when Jud fastened a yellow bow tie on a fat, old sow, tied a banner to its tail with Principal Irmscher’s name on it and staked it out in the middle of the football field. Oh, I suppose you being a teacher and all wouldn’t find that particularly funny, but…”

On and on she regaled everyone with Judson’s past exploits. Enjoying his discomfiture immensely, Carrie was delighted to see that he had no more control over Estelle Hanway than he did of the wind. His persistent attempts at shushing her were to no avail. As the an- ecdotes became wilder and more embarrassing for Jud- son, Carrie began to actually enjoy herself. Her laughter was contagious, and before long everyone was making a point of introducing themselves to the lovely, new schoolteacher who had so quickly won their children’s hearts.

“No wonder Jake hasn’t been complaining about his schoolwork this year,” said one leathered patron. “Heck, if I’da had such a pretty, young thing as your- self for a teacher, I’da stayed in school a whole longer myself.”

His wife good-naturedly rolled her eyes. “Hank’s had a little too much to drink, but I do want to thank you for taking extra time with Jake. He’s a little slow but he’s a good boy. It was a daily battle last year just
getting him on that school bus every day. I know you’re the reason for his sudden change in attitude.”

Another, stopping by to shake her hand, congratu- lated Carrie on bringing life back into an educational system too long dominated by “crochety old-timers.”

Each one thanked her for her willingness to treat their child as an individual and expressed appreciation for her willingness to help any who lagged behind by extending her own work hours. Eager to welcome her into the community, most made a point of mentioning their ap- proval to the local board members in their midst. Their warm handshakes and heartfelt praise filled her with the first genuine sense of belonging since the day she’d blown into Wyoming on that fateful, dusty wind.

Anxious to work off some of the calories they had just consumed, everyone was eager to follow up dessert with dancing. While famous for its cuisine, the Gold Diggers’ Inn was not equipped with a dance floor, so a band was awaiting them next door at the mercantile. Though she had little desire to watch Estelle fawn all over Judson on the dance floor, Carrie could find no gracious way to excuse herself from the festivities. She certainly didn’t want to seem uppity to these people who had so graciously invited her into their tight-woven circle.

The pocked face of the moon illuminated the board- walk for the sated group that threaded their way toward the bar where a country band by the name of Prairie Heat awaited the young-at-heart. Stopping on a narrow bridge to admire the brook that looped the old ghost town like a silver ribbon, Carrie lingered to drink in the silent beauty of the night. The gentle babbling of the creek was a welcome respite from dinner’s loud and
often bawdy conversation. Dazzled by the stars over- head, she could scarcely believe that she was so very far removed from the hustle and bustle of the big city. In her silent revery it almost seemed as if she had truly stepped back to a more innocent time in history. A time when women allowed men to open doors for them with- out worrying that anyone would consider them weak, when falling in love didn’t automatically mean falling into bed, and when an engagement ring meant your fi- delity was pledged to another for life….

Seeing her bathed in moonlight, Judson stopped up short. Cold and perfect in her beauty, Carrie appeared to him a marble statue. All night long he had been as unable to take his eyes off of her as he was to shake off Estelle’s suffocating nearness. For the life of him, Judson couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t attracted to Estelle the way she wanted him to be. The way
he
wanted to be. It would be such an easy remedy to the sexual dearth in his life—an occasional roll in the hay with a beautiful woman whose skin color and expecta- tions were like his own, at least on the surface. Behind Estelle’s easygoing attitude toward sex, Judson sus- pected she nurtured the hope that once lured into her bed, he would someday marry her. And that just wasn’t going to happen. With anyone.

His life was devoted to his children. Well aware of the teasing they had endured because of his “half-breed ways” and unusual appointment to the school board, Judson wasn’t about to subject them to the lewd con- jectures of neighbors and classmates regarding their daddy’s love life. He remembered how it felt to defend his own mother’s honor on the playground day after day. How painful it had been for him to watch her stumble
drunkenly from one man to another in the vain hope of erasing Arthur Christianson from her heart. How hurtful to have it thrown in his face by his schoolmates.

Not the kind of man who would settle for what he could get rather than what he really wanted, he wouldn’t repeat his mother’s mistakes. And what he wanted, Judson reminded himself, was freedom, complete and in- violate.

No matter how often he told Estelle that nothing more could come of their relationship than friendship, he seemed unable to convince her of that irrefutable fact. After his disastrous, short-lived marriage, he had never again been tempted to give his heart to another.

Snatches of the past flashed through his mind: a se- cret elopement, the bright lights of Reno, a week of sheer heaven and a descent into hell. Their marriage certificate meant nothing to Cheryl’s brothers who’d proceeded to lay him open with a whip as if he were nothing more than a side of beef. And though they never laid a hand on their sister, they broke her spirit just the same that fateful day. Nine months later, McLeashe sold his ranch and moved his family back East. Back where respectable white girls who had fallen astray were dec- orously wrapped in high society and allowed to main- tain that the mistakes of the past never happened.

“There’s no place for these breeds where we’re go- ing,” read the note attached to the twin bundles Judson found upon his doorstep one crisp, bud-tight spring morning. The first time those babies looked into his eyes they captured his heart. Cradling them gently in his arms as he sat on the steps, he vowed that day to provide them with the kind of safe, carefree childhood of which he himself had been deprived.

Standing in the moonlight contemplating Carrie’s
lithe silhouette, Judson would have liked nothing better than to have been left alone with his thoughts. But Es- telle, yanking hard on his arm, pulled him toward the country music blaring through the ancient, swinging doors of the mercantile.