His Rodeo Sweetheart

by Pamela Britton

  “But he won’t be home for three more months. You said so yourself.” The boy’s lower lip jutted out, green eyes imploring. “They have that super big place and it’s empty.”

  “Yes, but they won’t want a stranger staying there.”

  “Major McCall isn’t a stranger.”

  “Adam—”

  “It’s okay.” Ethan smiled down at her son. “I can find a place in town.”

  But the little boy’s eyes showed grim determination. “I’ll go call Uncle Colt right now.”

  The boy turned toward the house, calling over his shoulder, “He won’t mind.”

  “Adam!”

  She’d been ignored. He saw her mouth open and close a few times. Claire clearly wanted to call to her son again, maybe even run after him. Instead she stood there, something close to embarrassment floating through her eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What for?” It was hard not to smile in the face of determination like Adam’s, but he had a feeling if he showed her his amusement, Claire would feel even worse. “I think he’s trying to help.”

  “You’re probably right. Ever since he’s been sick he’s been worried about me. He says I do too much. That I’m always busy and it’s not good for me. He’s such a little man but he has grown-up concerns.”

  Her words had the ability to make him forget his own troubles for a moment. He’d almost broken down earlier. But he’d stopped it—thankfully. And here was her son, fighting for his life. It served as an example that there were worse things in life than dealing with a little anxiety.

  A little?

  Okay. Some days he would swear he was about to have a heart attack, and as he stared into Claire’s kind eyes, he wondered what she would do if she knew the truth—that the man who was at her place to “help” needed help of his own.

  A screen door slammed.

  “That was quick,” she said.

  Adam didn’t run, but his steps could almost be called a skip. Ethan knew what his uncle’s answer had been before Adam even spoke.

  “He said to bring him over.” His smile could have lit up the inside of a room.

  “Adam—”

  “He said he thinks it’d be cool to have a dog doctor living on the property.”

  Claire’s mouth opened and closed again. He could tell she wanted to say something, to dash the boy’s hopes with words, but she wasn’t proof against the excitement in her son’s eyes.

  “I take it he lives at Misfit Farms?” Ethan asked, having passed a sign along her driveway that pointed to a different road, one labeled with that name.

  She nodded.

  “I don’t mind going over there.” He tried to tell her without words that he wasn’t about to take advantage of her brother’s kindness. He knew she didn’t want him to and he would respect that wish. “You can show me around the place.”

  She must have received the message because some of the concern faded from her eyes. She still searched for something to say, though, something that she could use to finagle her way around her son’s high-handedness.

  Something wet touched his hand.

  He looked down. Thor peered up at him, curiosity in his brown eyes. Ethan glanced at Claire. Her eyes had gone wide.

  “He likes you.”

  No. He probably reminded Thor of his handler, the man who’d been killed in action...like Trevor.

  “See.” Adam’s eyes were as wide as his mom’s. He pointed. “Thor wants you to stay, too.”

  Claire stared up at him, then down at the dog, then back at him again.

  She looked troubled, and resigned. “Maybe you should go meet my brother.”

  Thor’s nose nudged his palm again.

  Maybe he should.

  * * *

  THEY DROVE TO her brother’s place in less than two minutes. Claire tried to ignore the presence of the man in the seat next to her, but it was nearly impossible.

  Thor liked him.

  For the first time since the dog had arrived she’d seen life in the canine’s eyes. What did it mean? Would Ethan be able to get through to the dog, something nobody else had been able to do? She could tell Ethan didn’t plan to accept the invitation to stay with her brother, and she appreciated his tactfulness, yet suddenly she wondered...

  His hands had shaken.

  There had been that look in his eyes, too, the one she’d recognized. She seen the same look in her husband’s eyes when he’d come home from the war, and then later, as he’d been admitted to the hospital. The same look in her son’s eyes.

  Fear.

  He fought demons, this man who had suffered through war. It made her want to help him. Marcus had called it her greatest gift—her desire to help. Claire thought of it more as a weakness because she often stretched herself too thin thanks to her inability to say no. It was why she’d gotten into the dog rescue business. Why she’d insisted on nursing her husband herself even though the military had offered hospice care. Why she’d stayed by her father’s side, too, even though she had owed the man nothing.

  Her tires hummed as she drove over the newly paved road. She couldn’t get used to the smoothness, but Natalie, her brother’s new wife, had insisted her clients would expect pavement. Still, as she turned left toward Colt’s place, she wondered what the cows that still ranged the pastures thought about the strange black strip.

  “Wait until you see my uncle’s place.” Adam leaned forward, as if they would have a hard time hearing him when his voice was just one level above a yell over the sound of the truck’s diesel engine. “It’s awesome.”

  Awesome was one word. Expensive another. Amazing was applicable, too. Her sister-in-law had won a huge jumping event last year, one with an equally huge purse. Natalie must have spent nearly all of it building her new riding facility.

  “Wow,” Ethan said when they drove between two low-lying hills, and her brother’s place came into view.

  Wow was right. The big red barn still stood in the same spot as it had in their youth, as did the house directly ahead, but the two-story farmhouse had been given a new coat of white paint. The original barn—the one she and her brothers had hidden from their father in when they were younger—had been converted back to a hayloft. Directly opposite it now, to their left, sat a gorgeous twenty-stall barn that seemed to match the old-fashioned farmhouse somehow. It was two stories, four windows with wooden frames directly above the opening—the apartment her brother Chance would live in one day soon.

  That wasn’t the only big change.

  A covered arena sat behind the barn. A white fence surrounded the whole complex. They had to pass between the pristine posts, her truck’s wheels catching the newly installed cattle guard and vibrating the interior.

  “That always makes my insides jiggle,” Adam said with a giggle.

  Hers, too, she admitted, marveling at how green it all was now. Sprinklers. They sprayed every surface that wasn’t covered by asphalt, including the square turnout pastures by her brother’s old arena to her right. The “outdoor arena” they called it now. There were a few jumps in the middle of it, but the bulk of her sister-in-law’s practice fences were in the covered arena. That was because her brother still managed Rodeo Misfits, his specialty act that involved trick riding. They needed the arena for practice. Still, the whole place was like an emerald gem set in the middle of a golden field.

  “Does your family compete in riding competitions?”

  “You could say that.”

  “My uncle is a rodeo performer. My aunt jumps horses.”

  All of which should be self-evident to some degree, Claire thought. Though it was the middle of the week, no less than four people rode in the covered arena, one of them her brother, looking out of place in his Western saddle among all the English riders. Hi
s truck and trailer still sat in the same spot, though, the words RODEO MISFITS still emblazoned on the sides. At least that hadn’t changed.

  “This is some place.”

  “That’s the apartment.” Adam pointed to the windows above the opening of the barn.

  “Adam, we don’t even know if Dr. McCall wants to stay with us yet.”

  Adam all but poked his head between the two front seats. “You do, don’t you, Major McCall?”

  “It’s Dr. McCall,” he corrected. “I’m out of the Army now. And I’d love to stay here, but I think we need to talk to your uncle first.”

  Points in the man’s favor for being diplomatic. She had to focus on keeping her gaze straight ahead, though. The urge to look at him, to smile, to reach out to this man in a way that was personal, was nearly overwhelming.

  “Uncle Colt said he’d get off his horse when we got here.”

  He must have called her brother on his cell. Determination, thy name is Adam.

  They parked in front of the new barn and it still felt strange to slip out of her truck and hit pavement. Natalie had explained that her wealthy clients didn’t like dirt and mud, something that seemed stupid considering they rode horses, but she didn’t doubt her sister-in-law for a minute. People who jumped horses tended to be wealthy and drive cars that cost six figures. Prissy people, her brother called them, though he’d become friends with most of them in the past year.

  Adam was already on his way through the middle of the barn and the arena on the other side. Prissy people didn’t like to get wet, either, which was why they’d erected the covered arena less than twenty yards from the back entrance of the barn.

  “This place is amazing,” Ethan repeated.

  Claire nodded. “I’ve been afraid to ask how much it all cost.”

  It even smelled new. New paint. New shavings. New leather. Shiny leather halters straddled brass hooks. She couldn’t see any of the horses inside, not at first—the metal grates along the front stopped them from poking their heads out—but as she walked down the center aisle, one sleek animal after another was revealed. Some ate. Some stood. Some peered at her curiously as she walked by.

  “Beautiful animals.”

  “Imports,” Claire explained. “Most of them, at least. Although there’s a few off-the-track Thoroughbreds and even a quarter horse or two. The majority were bred in Europe.”

  “I used to see horses when I was in veterinary school, although nothing like this.”

  He walked next to her along the barn aisle, light shining on his face despite the cowboy hat, thanks to the opening at the other end of the barn. He’d tucked his hands in his jeans. She wondered if his hands shook again and had to fight the urge to turn her head and study him intently. Whether he suffered from anxiety or not, it was none of her business. She appreciated his help, but no more than that.

  “You worked on horses in the military?” She glanced at him.

  “Cavalry units. Believe it or not, they’re still in existence, although they’re mostly for parade purposes.”

  “These horses are strictly for jumping and some of them cost as much as a new house.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  Her sister-in-law received a commission on sales. Between that and her purse earnings she’d been able to build everything around them. It drove Colt nuts. Her brother was very much a man, and the fact that his wife made more money than he did took some adjusting, but they made it work. Her brother had found love and she couldn’t be happier for him.

  “Mom, Uncle Colt says Major McCall can stay in the apartment above the barn if he wants.”

  Her brother sat on a horse on the other side of a solid-wood rail, a wide smile on his face, Adam having already accosted him. Not for the first time she noticed how much he’d changed. His gold eyes always seemed lit from within. His black hair was tucked beneath a black cowboy hat—as it always was—but he didn’t keep it as closely shaved as he used to. More relaxed, that’s what he seemed. And happy. Very, very happy. She doubted their brother, Chance, would recognize him when he came home in a few months.

  “I take it you’re Major McCall,” Colt called out to her guest.

  “Ethan,” the handsome doctor said—yes, handsome, damn it. It wasn’t a crime to notice. “Nice to meet you.”

  The two shook hands, although her brother had to lean over the rail to do so, not that the horse he rode seemed to mind. Playboy—her sister-in-law’s horse—she recognized, the horse’s successful reining career having resulted in Colt hitting fewer rodeos and staying closer to home. He still loved his rodeo act, but he loved his new wife more. That was why he’d turned the act over to someone new—Carolina Cruthers—although Claire wasn’t quite sure what to make of the standoffish woman.

  “My nephew told me you just got out of the military.”

  “Been out two weeks,” Ethan clarified.

  “So this is him?” Her sister-in-law rode up next to her husband, a wide smile on her face, blond hair tucked beneath a black-and-gray helmet.

  “This is him,” Claire echoed, for some reason incredibly self-conscious. Maybe it was because she knew Natalie had noted the doctor’s good looks. There was a twinkle in her blue eyes as their gazes connected, and a nonverbal, “No wonder you want him to stick around.”

  It’s not like that, she silently telegraphed.

  Okay, so maybe it was. She was human and it’d been a long, long time since she’d been with a man. So long, in fact, that she couldn’t even remember that far back. Scratch that. She remembered. About a year after her husband had died. A quick hookup the weekend of the town rodeo, and a night she’d rather forget, but it served to remind her of yet one more reason why she’d never let her attraction to the man get out of hand. Awkward couplings in the middle of the night weren’t her thing.

  Not even when the man was as handsome as Ethan.

  At least, that was what she told herself.

  Chapter Five

  “I’m Natalie Reynolds,” said a woman on a massive sorrel horse. She held out a hand wearing an odd-looking glove. Half leather, half crochet. “And this is my husband, Colt, since Claire seems too distracted to perform the introductions.”

  Ethan glanced at Claire in time to see her eyes flick away, seemingly in humiliation, but what did she have to be embarrassed about?

  “Nice to meet you.” Ethan shook Natalie’s hand, her horse snorting in protest at the sudden thrust of his arm. Might be big, but the horse still had the nerves of a Thoroughbred. Couldn’t deny it was a beauty, though. The animal looked almost wet its coat glistened so noticeably. When Claire had said her sister-in-law’s horses were worth a small fortune, she hadn’t been kidding.

  “You’re the dog doctor, Adam tells me,” the woman said.

  “MWDs—military working dogs.”

  She nodded, her eyes the same color as a military ribbon. They projected friendliness, those eyes. “Ever work on horses?”

  “Actually, yes.” Most people were like Claire. They had no clue that military veterinarians worked on all sorts of different animals. It all depended on the base where they were stationed. He could look at a cat one day, a bird the next, sometimes even cows. All that had changed, however. “I was attached to a cavalry unit once, nonactive, strictly for parade purposes, but it was fun traveling around with them.”

  That was before. Pre-orders. Off to the Middle East. Life had never been the same since.

  “Interesting,” Natalie said.

  “But I’m not really tied to my veterinary career. My hope is to work for one of the big canine training facilities. I’d like to keep serving my country in a small way and that seems like the best way to do it.”

  Claire looked impressed, then thoughtful. “That explains why you’re so willing to work with Thor.”

&n
bsp; He forced himself to focus on Claire’s words, because that was who’d spoken. He stared into her eyes, observed the different specks of green in them. A distraction technique, one that he hoped would keep his hands from shaking yet again.

  “That’s part of my master plan, anyway,” he admitted.

  Focus.

  He’d been hoping—damn, how he’d been hoping—a trip to the country might be just what his frazzled nerves needed. He realized too late he’d been kidding himself. Trev’s death was still too fresh. The things he’d witnessed still in the forefront of his mind. The helplessness he’d felt was something he would never forget.

  Damn it.

  “I think it might actually work out to have him stay here,” he heard Natalie say.

  “No,” he interjected. Natalie drew back a bit and he realized he’d sounded a little terse. “Look, you’re really kind to even consider offering me a place to stay.” He caught the boy’s gaze, forcing a smile. “But I can’t accept.”

  “Actually, you’d be doing us a favor.”

  It was Claire’s brother who’d spoken, the man leaning forward and resting an arm on his saddle’s horn, saddle creaking in protest. “One of the owners Natalie rides for has decided to put her horse up for stud. We were just talking about how to handle that.” He pointed with his chin at his wife. “We both know a lot about horses, but we’re not breeding experts, and the stallion in question is worth a lot of money. We have a friend who’s a vet, but she’s pregnant and busy, and we have no business risking its health in the breeding shed, and so we need a professional to help us do it right. At least until we can find someone to do it permanently.”

  Natalie was nodding as she fiddled with her reins. “I was explaining to my husband just yesterday that a lot of big show barns offer stallion service.” A strand of blond hair had escaped from beneath the black cap she wore. “It was kind of a long-range plan of ours to do the same, and then my owner called last week and she really doesn’t want to have to move her horse...”

  “So we were thinking this would work out perfectly,” Colt finished. “We’d hire you as a consultant. You could advise us on what equipment to buy and what kind of facility we’ll need. And if you’re still here after we get it all done, you could be our stallion manager, at least until you decide to move on or we find another full-time veterinarian interested in the job. In between all that, you could work as our barn manager. You know, keep an eye on things when we’re gone on the weekends.”