Always A Cowboy. Linda Miller Lael
likely, though, the wild horse would turn his mares and head for the hills, as he’d done all the other times.
Another part of Drake’s brain was caught upstream in the conversation. A hundred feet? She had gotten awfully close to those horses, and she didn’t seem to have the first clue how dangerous they could be.
“I’ll walk up there with you,” he said reluctantly. He asked his brother, “Mind unsaddling Starburst for me and letting him graze with the cattle?”
“Nope.” There was still a wicked glint in Slate’s eyes. “Have fun hiking in those boots.”
“I live in these boots,” Drake retorted. “I’ll be fine, big brother.”
“Just sayin’.”
“Thanks for your concern,” Drake responded drily. “You can put salve on my blisters and rub my feet when we get back.”
“I think you’ll have to find someone else for that.” Slater raised his brows and turned to Luce.
“No way.” She smiled. “If anyone’s entitled to a foot massage, it’s me. I’ll have walked up there twice today.”
“I learn something new about you every day.” Drake took his rope from Starburst’s saddle, in case it came in handy. He doubted he’d get close enough to use it, but stranger things had happened.
“You don’t know as much about me as you think you do. We only met eight days ago.”
He couldn’t possibly ignore that one. “Maybe it just seems longer. Let’s go.”
He received a well-deserved lethal look for that comment. “If you’re ready, cowboy.”
She led the way, sticking to the open areas, which told him she really wasn’t a greenhorn when it came to this sort of country.
She provided him with a very nice back view. Following her was no hardship.
He knew the trail to the ridge as well as anyone and better than most. Certainly better than she did. But she walked with a sense of purpose and he climbed behind her. Slater had a point about his cowboy boots, but he could cope. Those mares had cost the ranch a small fortune.
Sure enough, Luce was right. The group of horses was at the top, quietly cropping the grass, half-hidden by a line of aspen. Ever vigilant, the stallion noticed their approach, lifted his head and allowed them to get decently close, with little more than a warning snort. They stopped obediently behind a small group of bushes, fairly well hidden, but the stallion made clear that he knew they were there.
Luce whispered, crouching next to him, “Smoke’s in a good mood today.”
She’d named the horse. That figures.
Those mares were valuable, he reminded himself again, and losing them permanently would have an effect on the bottom line. “Smoke? That’s original,” he said sarcastically.
“Hey, he’s gray and black. Pet names are not my forte.”
Drake sighed. “That’s no pet, that’s more than half a ton of testosterone and muscle. I couldn’t take him, even in a fair fight. Think teeth and hooves.”
He might have come across as peevish; he was used to riding, not walking, and he’d broken a light sweat on their impromptu stroll. His companion, on the other hand, looked as if they’d been cruising some city park, throwing bread at ducks in ponds or whatever people did in places like that.
She gave him an assessing stare. “Yet I feel you are about to beat him—but not on a physical level.”
That was absolutely correct. “Yup. I’m going to win this one. I want my horses back, and he needs to go somewhere else.”
Easier said than done, of course. That horse had no respect for fences at all. He’d kicked his way through more than one to get at the mares. Drake had thought about building an enclosure like the ones they used for bull riding at rodeos. But getting him into it was quite the challenge. Although he and Luce had barely met, he sensed that she wasn’t going to agree with what he had to say next. “A tranquilizer dart is probably my best bet at this point. I’m going to hire someone to do it because that horse knows me. He’s smart. He knows exactly who runs this ranch. I’m a good shot, but this is about as close as I’ve ever gotten to him and I doubt I could do it from here.”
As predicted, she turned to scowl at him and said firmly, as if she had some authority over the situation, “No. You aren’t shooting him with anything.”
* * *
SHE’D GOTTEN SOME pretty good snaps of Drake Carson, shirtless, as he fixed that gate. He had impressive muscles and a six-pack stomach. Cowboy poster-boy material. Maybe someone needed to do a calendar with ranchers, like they did with firemen and athletes. She’d be happy to put him in it and leave it turned to that month forever. She had his grudging permission to shoot a few pictures of him if she wanted, but he hadn’t been very enthusiastic.
That was nothing compared to what was about to happen, though. They were about to get in a really big argument. She could feel it coming. Whenever she had a strong opinion, she couldn’t help expressing it, as her entire family would point out.
She stood up. “Smoke isn’t going to understand. He’ll hate it. Suddenly going to sleep and waking up somewhere else? How would you like that? Come up with some other idea.”
All the horses lifted their heads at the raised voice.
Drake straightened, too. “You have a better one?”
“Not yet.” She shook her head. “I just don’t want that.”
“Hell, neither do I. You come up with something else and I’ll listen.”
“I’m thinking on it.” She wasn’t thinking about anything else. Well, except him.
Here, among the horses, the mountains, the blue sky, he looked like the real deal, a cowboy all the way. Of course, that was probably because he was the real deal—and his authenticity wasn’t compromised by the exasperated expression on his face. She liked how he habitually tipped back his hat and then drew it forward.
“As I told you, I’ll ponder it,” she couldn’t resist saying.
“Ponder? Really? Is that how you think we talk out here?”
“It’s a perfectly good word.” She stood her ground. “People from California say it all the time.”
“Yeah, maybe a hundred years ago.” He gestured at the horses. “Smoke—if that’s what we’re going to call him—would be fine after the trank. But the point is, he has to go. He’s wreaking havoc with the ranch’s working horses. Get it? Put that in your thesis.”
“What if I could coax him into coming close enough so you could just catch him?”
“What?” He looked incredulous. “You can’t. He’s a wild stallion.”
“I think I could.”
He let out a long, slow breath. “You can’t even saddle a horse.”
“That’s a skill I intend to learn. Can I give it a try? By the way, I’m well aware that we aren’t talking about a domesticated animal. If we were, I wouldn’t be here.”
Drake threw up his hands. “This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had. He isn’t going to do it.”
“Let me try before you shoot him.”
That riled him. “I’m not going to shoot that horse or any other horse, for heaven’s sake! I’ll sedate him and have him moved to federal land set aside for wild horses. Not the same thing.”
It wasn’t as if she didn’t know that, but still...it was fun to tease him. She couldn’t believe she was about to ask this, but she’d been pretty brazen already. “Can you wait two more weeks? I need