Cowboy Fever

by Joanne Kennedy

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. I was thinking something bigger.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like a polo benefit.” She straightened in her seat, back on familiar ground. “My dad and his friends have all kinds of money, but they don’t much like parting with it—unless it’s something to do with polo.”

  “So you want us to put on some kind of polo party?”

  It wasn’t a bad idea. Jodi was only working at the boutique until she could get the clinic started, so the faster she got funding, the less time she’d be spending with her mother. Maybe then she’d forget about that stupid promise.

  Especially if Teague did a lot of the fund-raising, and helped with the clinic, and generally made himself indispensable.

  He felt a whoosh of excitement lift his heart. When he really set his mind to something, he always succeeded. That’s how he’d worked his way out of the trailer. If he applied that same dogged determination to this project, he might not have to give up on Jodi after all.

  He wouldn’t push her. He wouldn’t try to talk her into anything. He’d just be the best friend she’d ever had, and let nature take its course.

  “We could put on a barbecue after a game,” he said.

  Courtney wrinkled her nose. “No, they wouldn’t come to anything like that. I was thinking an actual polo match.”

  “That sounds like a big project,” Bucky said.

  “Oh, I’ve done it before, back in Syracuse,” Courtney said. “I’ve always done a lot of work with non-profits.”

  “Well, I don’t know much about polo,” Teague said. “But if you could put it together, I’d be glad to print up flyers or something.”

  “I was thinking you could play,” Courtney said. “You and some of your cowboy friends.” She straightened and glanced around the table, pulling Emmett and Darla into the conversation. “Bucky’s ordered all the equipment you’d need, and the clothes. And I’ve seen ranch horses on TV, cutting cattle. They’re quick and nimble, just like polo ponies. A little bigger, but that might be a good thing, if you didn’t mind fouling once in a while.”

  “Buck, you ordered those sissy clothes?” Teague had seen how polo players dressed, in tight pants and high boots. “You’re not getting me to wear tights.”

  “They’re breeches,” Courtney said. “And they’re not sissy.”

  “How ’bout we do something else horse related?” Emmett asked.

  “Yeah, like a cutting competition, or a rodeo?” Teague scowled. “Something where we don’t have to dress like… like girlie men.”

  She tilted her nose in the air. “Polo players are hardly girlie men. They’re very masculine. And my father’s friends would never come to a rodeo. That’s way too blue-collar for them.”

  “We’d make fools of ourselves trying to play polo.”

  “No you wouldn’t. It’s like playing hockey on horseback. If you’re good riders and your horses are well trained, you’ll be fine. And just think.” She scooted her chair closer to the table. “It would be the cowboys versus the aristocrats. Like a Johnson County War of Polo. That’s how we’d promote it.”

  “That’s brilliant,” Emmett said, earning a glowing smile from Courtney.

  “I agree.” Darla’s dark eyes were sparkling. She was probably thinking of all the gossip the matchup would lead to. If a bunch of rough-and-tumble cowboys got together with the nouveau riche newcomers, sparks were bound to fly.

  “But your dad has professional players, right?” Teague asked. “They’d slaughter us.”

  “It doesn’t matter who wins,” Courtney said. “It’s the entry fees that count. It would be such a novelty—all my dad’s friends would come. And I’ll bet everyone in town would come to cheer on the cowboy team. Don’t you think?” She looked at Darla.

  “I agree.” The pharmacist smoothed down her skirt. “I’d be happy to publicize it amongst my circle. Which is substantial.”

  Teague grinned. She was still trying to one-up Courtney. Darla’s contacts might not be as wealthy, but she knew everyone for miles around.

  Courtney nodded. “Let’s do it, then. Okay, Teague?”

  He hesitated. Taking on this project meant he’d have to learn to play polo—and he’d need Courtney for that. The two of them would be thrown together even more, and he had no doubt she’d try to take advantage of the situation.

  But it would be a giant step toward helping Jodi fund the clinic.

  Courtney saw him dithering and went in for the kill. “The last benefit match made ten thousand dollars for the March of Dimes.”

  Teague widened his eyes. Ten thousand dollars. Hell, he’d play polo naked if it would get Jodi ten thousand dollars.

  Where was Jodi, anyway? He craned his neck and looked around the room, finally spotting her standing at another table, no doubt talking to more old friends.

  “Teague?” Courtney looked irritated, and he wondered if she thought this was an actual date. He hadn’t invited her. He hadn’t even asked her to sit with him. She’d just appropriated him all of a sudden.

  But the polo match was a good idea. Or at least, the ten thousand dollars was.

  “Let’s do it,” he said. “Where do we start?”

  Honeybucket let out an excited yip, and Courtney fished him out of her purse and cradled him in her arms. “You’ll need at least three other players, with horses,” she said. “And supplies from Bucky’s. They should be in within a few days, right, Bucky?”

  Bucky nodded, and Teague almost laughed. Courtney had evidently been planning this for a while. He supposed it was a good way for her to get involved in the community. Unfortunately, he suspected it was also a way for her to get involved with him—but her plan was going to backfire, because in the end, it would set him up with Jodi.

  “We must be going,” Darla said, pushing her chair back. Bucky rose with her, taking her purse without being asked. Teague stifled a smile. Ol’ Bucky was totally whipped. And pretty darn happy about it, judging from the look on his face as he watched Darla.

  “Courtney, it’s been a pleasure,” Darla said. “You’ll be in touch regarding our project?”

  “Oh, yes,” Courtney said. “Definitely.”

  Teague and Emmett stood until Darla and Bucky had left the table, then sat back down and turned to Courtney.

  “So where do we start with this thing?” Emmett asked.

  “Well, Teague should meet me at my house tomorrow morning.”

  Emmett sat back, looking disappointed.

  “You want to come along?” Teague asked.

  “Sure. I…”

  “Can you ride?” Courtney asked. “You have to be a really good horseman to do this.”

  “Guess I’d be better on the organizational side,” Emmett said.

  “Well, if we need any legal forms, we’ll let you know.” Courtney turned to Teague. “So when you come tomorrow, don’t knock. You don’t want to wake my dad.” She wriggled with excitement, setting the fringe on her shirt to swaying. “He doesn’t like me to watch the practices, but Gustaldo doesn’t mind. That’s one of the players from Argentina. Gustaldo likes me. I’d like him too, except I met you.” She gave his arm a squeeze.

  “Gustaldo?”

  “Oh, don’t be jealous,” she said. “He barely speaks English.”

  Teague hadn’t been jealous—just curious—but it didn’t seem polite to point that out.

  “They start at six,” Courtney continued. “I’ll tell Gus to leave the arena unlocked. If we sit up in the stands and keep quiet, the guys won’t tell Daddy.” She tittered. “They like me too.” She looked down at the dog in her arms. “They don’t like Honeybucket, though. They say he riles up the horses. Rata, rata, they say. That means rat.”

  She held the dog up to her face and made a kissy face. “And Honeybucket’s not a rat, is he? He’s mama’
s little baby dog, that’s what he is.”

  With its pointy nose and sharp little teeth, the dog really did bear a striking resemblance to a rat, but Teague thought it was better not to mention that.

  “So will you come?” she asked, dropping her voice to a normal register.

  “Okay.” Actually, the whole thing sounded pretty interesting. He’d go watch, and see if it was something he and his friends could do without making absolute fools of themselves.

  “You have to be careful, because it gets kind of rough sometimes,” Courtney said. “You could get thrown. I’d hate for that to happen.” She looked up at him and blinked her big blue eyes.

  He laughed uneasily. “I’ve been thrown before. And I doubt polo’s that dangerous.”

  “Oh, but it is. Sometimes the horses crash into each other. Once my father broke his leg. And one of our friends was actually killed. He fell off his horse and was trampled.” She shuddered violently, making the fringe jiggle again. Teague was starting to think she’d give Darla a run for her money in the drama queen department.

  “If I can stick a bronc, I imagine I could sit one of your polo ponies.”

  “Oh, do you ride in the rodeo?” Courtney practically squealed.

  “I did—for a while. Still do, sometimes.”

  She shoved the little dog back in her bag and clapped her hands like a kid at the circus. “Oh, that’s exciting.”

  Teague almost laughed. Everything seemed to get this girl excited. The old Teague would have taken advantage of that—but he knew better now. Sex without strings attached didn’t hold much meaning, and besides, he had a feeling Courtney would tie strings to everything, and she’d hang on like a rookie rider in a wild horse race.

  Chapter 16

  Jodi edged sideways through the crowded tables, hoping her face wasn’t sagging as badly as her spirits. The crowd had welcomed her so enthusiastically. They’d listened so raptly to her speech. She’d been sure they’d award her a grant on the spot, or at least move that it be considered—but her reputation had somehow outshone her accomplishments. Nobody cared that she’d been to college. Nobody cared that she was trying to help the handicapped. All they wanted was Miss Rodeo USA.

  She stopped to greet the Rotary president, who smiled sympathetically.

  “Sorry, hon,” he said. “They didn’t really listen, did they? Tell you what. We’re having a board meeting on the twelfth. I’ll see if you can’t come talk to us then, okay? It might be a better setting.”

  Jodi nodded. “Sure. Thank you.”

  “And you might want to dress up next time,” his wife said, smiling brightly. “You’ll have much better luck with all these men looking like—well, you know, like you used to. I think you’ll find it much easier to get what you want that way.”

  Jodi knew the woman was right, but heck, she could get what she wanted by sleeping with all of them too. That didn’t mean she was willing to do it.

  ***

  As the room began to clear, Courtney picked up her purse and let out a gasp.

  “Honeybucket’s gone!” She stood, clutching her purse to her chest, and glanced wildly around the room. “Oh, find him, please, Teague? He’s so tiny! He could be hurt!”

  Teague pushed back his chair. “I’ll find him,” he said. “He can’t have gone far.”

  He made his way through the crowd, looking under tables and chairs and making occasional kissy noises. A few club members gave him sideways looks, but he was used to that.

  He made a full circuit of the room without spotting the little puffball. Setting his hands on his hips, he surveyed the room and spotted the men’s room door, propped wide open. Stepping inside, he spotted a familiar set of fluffy hindquarters through an open stall door. Honeybucket had hiked himself up on the rim of a toilet and was slurping water with his tiny pink tongue. As Teague watched, the pup tilted forward, kicked his little hind legs, and slid into the bowl. Letting out a panicked yap, he scrabbled at the slippery porcelain, his eyes bugging out with the effort.

  “Damn.” Gingerly, Teague picked the puppy up by the scruff of his neck and carried him to the sink. “Your mistress is not going to be pleased. Guess I’d better clean you up.”

  He turned on the faucet and went to work, using hand soap from the wall dispenser to scrub the critter’s fine, fluffy coat. Wet, Honeybucket looked more like a squirrel than a dog. At least he was a good-natured little thing, still grinning despite the ordeal of a bath. If he’d just been normal-sized, Teague might have liked him.

  He squeezed the water out of the matted fur as best he could, then rubbed Honeybucket down with a paper towel. The dog still looked like a drowned rat.

  “Here, buddy.” Teague punched the automatic hand dryer to life and held Honeybucket in the stream of warm air. “This’ll get you dry.”

  Honeybucket squirmed and gave a sharp yip.

  “What the hell?” The sheriff stepped inside and stared at Teague, who was turning the animal slowly in front of the dryer, working on the rotisserie principle. “What is that thing?”

  “It’s Courtney’s dog,” Teague muttered.

  “The Skelton girl?”

  Teague nodded.

  The sheriff grinned. “Moving up in the world, aren’t you?”

  “Not really.” Teague shifted the dog to dry its belly and frowned. “We’re not dating or anything. I don’t even know why she’s here.”

  “I do.” The sheriff waggled his eyebrows. “The girl’s all over you, son.”

  “I know. I don’t know how to get rid of her without being rude.”

  “Just stay away from her,” the sheriff suggested. “It shouldn’t be too hard. It’s not like you run with the same crowd, or have the same interests.”

  “Right.” Teague thought of the polo game and suppressed an urge to smack his forehead. Grimacing, he held out the dog. “Here,” he said. “Hold this.”

  That stopped the conversation. The sheriff stared down at the animal in dismay while Teague washed and dried his hands, then grabbed the dog and gave the sheriff a nod. “Better get him back to his mistress,” he said.

  He dodged out of the men’s room and made his way to Courtney, who was sitting at the table, tapping one impatient foot. Apparently she wasn’t capable of looking for the dog herself. She probably had servants for that at home.

  “Here you go,” Teague said, handing Honeybucket over. The little guy wasn’t quite dry, and his hair stuck out in rigid spikes that made him look like a punk rock Pomeranian.

  “What did you do to him?” Courtney tried to finger-comb Honeybucket’s hair, but she got caught in his mattered undercoat, which had congealed into a felted bodysuit beneath the spikes.

  “Gave him a bath.” Teague stifled a smile. “He fell in the toilet.”

  “Oh. Oh!” Courtney shoved Honeybucket back into his bag and waved her hands in the air. “Oh! You dirty thing!” She gave Teague a horrified glance, then ran off toward the ladies’ room, still shrieking. “You dirty dog! You dirty, dirty dog!”

  Teague watched her go, then realized the room had gone quiet. A low hum of whispering had replaced the din of conversation, and every eye that wasn’t staring after Courtney was turned toward him.

  Dang. If he had a reputation to ruin, that would have done it for sure. As it was, it just dug the hole he was in a little deeper.

  ***

  Teague almost skipped the next morning’s surreptitious polo expedition. Things with Courtney were getting complicated.

  But he’d heard about the Argentine players who sold their skills to rich polo sponsors in the States. They were supposed to be some of the best horsemen in the world. Maybe he’d learn something he could use.

  And then there was that ten thousand dollars…

  The sun was just starting to streak the eastern sky with pink and amber when he pulled up to the S
kelton mini-manse. Two stories tall, with a long front porch and an assortment of dormers and turrets, it sported so much white-painted gingerbread that it looked like a mad Victorian architect’s delirium dream. Courtney was waiting for him on the porch, dressed in her usual over-the-top Western regalia. It was quite a picture, the overdressed girl on the lace-bedecked porch. The kind of thing you’d see photographed in artsy black and white in a book called The New West, or something.

  It would be a sad book—one of those that showed the real West eroding, getting hijacked by its own romantic image.

  Courtney trotted out to the truck and climbed in. “Park the car behind the barn,” she said. “That way Daddy won’t see us.”

  “Why’s this such a big secret?” Teague asked.

  “Daddy’s just weird,” she said. “He doesn’t like anyone to see the horses work. It’s some kind of big secret.” She tossed off an eye-roll that would have made a Valley Girl proud.

  The two of them entered the arena through a side door Gustaldo had apparently left unlocked as promised. Climbing a set of metal bleachers, she led him to a seat high up in the corner, shadowed by the arena’s tin roof. She slid close to him and put one hand on his thigh, then the other. With no dog to hang onto, she was free to paw him as much as she wanted. He tensed reflexively.

  “Ooh, muscles,” she said, kneading his leg.

  He jerked it away.

  “We’ll have to be quiet once the trainers get here.” She didn’t seem to notice his discomfort. In fact, she scooted toward him again, edging over until her hip touched his, and blinked up into his face. He stared down at the empty arena. Courtney offered up an odd combination of innocence, helplessness, and brazen sexuality that made it stunningly clear she was his for the taking. Some men liked that kind of thing. Teague didn’t. Not anymore.

  “It’s a good thing Daddy sleeps in, so you can see this.” Courtney made a sour face. “He never gets up before noon. What a jerk.”

  It sounded like typical adolescent rebellion—the kind Courtney should have outgrown by now. Teague doubted her father was that bad. He’d never seen the guy drunk, stumbling down the street, or crouched over a beer at a bar in mid-afternoon. That was about all Teague knew to ask for in a father—sobriety.