Her Rodeo Hero (Cowboys in Uniform)

by Pamela Britton

  “I’ve read mountain biking can help, too,” she ventured.

  “To hell with tires. You’ve got a perfectly good horse right here. In fact, you should ride him right now.”

  Her heart began to beat like the thumping of a teenager’s car with its stereo cranked. If someone had told her a year ago that she’d be terrified to get up on her own horse she’d have laughed them out of the room. Only now did she admit the bitter truth. That runaway ride on Playboy had scared her. Badly.

  “Go on,” Colt urged.

  As if sensing Natalie’s fear, Playboy turned to look back at her, his big brown eyes seeming to say, “It’s all right.”

  It wasn’t all right. She’d faced off with some of the best riders in the world over obstacles that would have given Superman pause, but her courage had crumbled to dust. Yesterday had done her in. She’d had nightmares about coming off again, horrible dreams where she’d seen the ground rushing up to meet her. She’d woken up with a headache that had made her want to vomit.

  “You look a little green around the gills.”

  Her mouth was so dry she had to swallow before she could speak. “I am.” She turned to face Colt. “Look at my hands.” She held them flat, but they shook so badly she might have had another type of neurological disorder. “I’m absolutely terrified.”

  He held her gaze. Before she knew it he stood in front of her, right in front of her, and for the first time it occurred to her that he was quite a bit taller than she was, and wider, and despite the fact that there were times she despised him, in that moment all she wanted to do was collapse against his chest and cry like a baby. What a boob. He was the one who had something to cry about, not her.

  “I know how you feel,” he offered.

  She latched onto the words like a lifeline. “Do you?”

  He nodded. “Once, when I was younger, my dad put me up on his old ranch horse. Horse’s name was Buddy and I swear to this day some old cowboy gave him that name as a joke. That horse was nobody’s friend. My dad knew it. Just as he knew I had no business riding it. I couldn’t have been more than six or seven, and that horse was near sixteen hands, but my dad threw me up and told me to hang on.”

  She could see a play of emotions cross Colt’s face, most of which she couldn’t name. The sight of him standing above her, so close, eyes flickering like an old picture show, fascinated her.

  “Then my old man slapped that horse on the rear so hard it startled the chickens that used to roost in the barn there. Buddy took off for the hills.” He pointed over his shoulder, all the while shaking his head. “I remember hanging on to that saddle horn so tight my fingers started to ache after the first mile, and that piece of you-know-what horse wasn’t even close to slowing down. He must have run on for another half a mile before I saw it.”

  His eyes flashed again, dark lashes lowering, mouth firming. “Fence up ahead. I might have been a kid, but I knew that meant bad news. Barbed wire. If the horse didn’t see it he’d run right into it, probably flipping over on me like I’d seen in the movies. If he saw it he might jump it or he might turn suddenly and pitch me off.” He paused for a moment and Natalie watched, hardly breathing, as she waited for him to finish his tale.

  “Buddy never slowed. When we were about twenty feet away I tried to clutch the saddle horn tighter. I think I was convinced I could keep myself on if I held the damn thing tight enough. I was wrong. Buddy didn’t run through it or jump it or turn. He stopped. Hard. I didn’t stand a chance. He launched me over his neck.” He mimicked the motion with his hand, slapping his hand in his palm. “I flew so far I remember watching the ground whiz past me and thinking this is going to hurt. And it did. I hit—hard. Couldn’t breathe. Had the wind knocked out of me. I was sure I’d broke my back.”

  She nodded in commiseration. “I’ve been launched like that before.”

  “Then you know what it’s like, how much it hurts, and how there’s that moment when you wonder, is this it? Will I be able to walk again?”

  Yup. She knew that feeling. All too well, but she didn’t feel the need to point that out to Colt.

  “I just lay there for a long while, convinced my dad would ride up and carry me back to the ranch, but that didn’t happen.”

  His eyes blazed. His jaw ticked. Clearly, the memory stirred up feelings that still affected him deeply.

  “After a while I realized my dad wasn’t coming. When I stood I nearly fell back down. I’d hurt my ankle pretty bad. I could feel it swelling inside my boot, but I was on my own, which meant either walking back to the ranch or climbing on top of that cantankerous piece of crap of a horse. Tell you the truth, that scared me more than anything else. What if he took off again? But I took one step and knew there was no way in hell I could walk all the way back.”

  “I take it Buddy didn’t run off.”

  “Oh, no. He was right where he’d stopped, standing in the same place, by the fence. I swear he was watching me and laughing.” He shook his head. “I still don’t know how I did it. That barbed wire was old and the strands were close together but I somehow managed to slip through it without slicing myself to shreds. Buddy never moved as I tugged myself back on board, and when I picked up the reins, he behaved like a perfect gentleman. I sometimes wonder if he knew I was hurt. The only time he acted up was when we got close to home. He thought about making a run for it, but I was so mad at that damn horse that I jerked him around and made him behave.”

  “Where was your dad?”

  “Gone.”

  She didn’t quite understand. “You mean out looking for you?”

  There it was again. The look. “Nope. Down to the local bar, gone.”

  He had to be joking. Trouble was, he didn’t laugh. “Wasn’t he worried about you?”

  He looked away for a moment. “I doubt he even noticed I’d been missing.”

  She had a hard time believing that was true, yet he looked so serious. He didn’t appear to want to talk about it, though.

  “But that’s not the point of my tale. The point is that sometimes we have to face our fears in order to overcome them.”

  He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. She’d given herself the same lecture when she’d climbed aboard Playboy after he’d run away with her. All she’d done was walk, but she’d told herself it was sufficient. Now she knew it hadn’t been nearly enough. She should have done her regular training routine, ridden for at least a half-hour. Instead she’d used her vertigo as an excuse to call it a day. She’d used the same excuse for weeks.

  “I sometimes think if my dad hadn’t abandoned me, if he’d actually been there to scoop me up and tell me everything would be all right, I might never have ridden again. The experience was that terrifying.”

  “I know how that feels.”

  She couldn’t look away from him, felt something inside her stir as she stared into his eyes, something that made her suddenly as fearful of him as she was of her horse.

  Afraid of riding. Sad.

  No, a little voice inside her said. Afraid of dying.

  She had to look away from Colt. She sensed more than saw him move, couldn’t believe it when she felt his hand touch her chin, gently lifting it so that she looked into his eyes, now a light brown. She had a feeling he didn’t touch people very often. Animals, yes, but his fellow human beings, no.

  “Life is short.” The sun in his eyes disappeared. “Don’t let fear get in the way of living.”

  Chapter Seven

  He should heed his own advice.

  Colt could barely breathe for the crippling fear that had overtaken him since his sister’s devastating news. It was all he could do to stand there outside the arena and focus on Natalie when what he wanted to do was go inside, sit down, cover his face with his hands and cry. Poor Adam. The pain he’d go through while they tried to kill the damn piece of crap that was cancer...

  “Colt?”

  He refocused. Natalie stood in front of him and he realized he w
as holding his hand against her cheek. Suddenly, his thoughts spun in another direction. Briefly, but undeniably. Her short hair accentuated her heart-shaped face. Blue eyes that might have gotten lost beneath a mass of blond hair seemed huge. Those eyes were filled with sadness and longing and fear, emotions that made the pit of his stomach ache with sympathy and made him want to use his other hand to draw her nearer.

  “Don’t quit on me, Natalie.”

  Two weeks ago he would have seized the excuse to get out of helping her with her horse. Today he clung to the task like a man would a life raft.

  “Okay.” She licked her lips. “I won’t.”

  He told himself to move away. To step back. He didn’t. Only when Playboy began to move—the horse clearly impatient with standing around—did they break apart, Natalie to tug back on the reins, Colt to turn away.

  Damn. What the hell had that been?

  “Whoa, Playboy,” he directed.

  That’s what he told himself, too. Whoa. He didn’t need the distraction of Natalie’s blue eyes. Not now. Not ever. He’d sworn off women and all the problems they entailed. His life was complicated enough as it was.

  “I’ll hold Playboy’s reins if that will make you feel better.”

  “More pony rides?” She flicked her chin up—a habit of hers, he realized. “No thanks. I think it’s time I rode on my own.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She positioned herself by Playboy’s stirrup and turned to face him. “If I don’t do this now, I don’t think I ever will.”

  Colt thought the same thing. “Just use your voice. That’s why I gave you those exercises on the ground. He’ll listen. I promise.”

  She was in profile to him, and he could see the determination on her face. As if doing a mental countdown in her head—three, two, one—she stared up at the seat of the saddle until, taking a deep breath, she hefted herself on board, her hands immediately clutching the horse.

  “Good girl.”

  Natalie gripped the horn. Her shoulders were hunched over. Her eyes were closed. Such a far cry from the rider she used to be that he couldn’t speak for the surge of sympathy that filled him.

  “I can do this,” he heard her mutter. “I’ve ridden in international competition.”

  She would never ride at that level again. He had no doubt she’d regain some of her ability, but he’d read last night that equilibrium problems were nearly impossible to overcome entirely. She would always have issues with movement and changes in altitude. Jumping was out.

  “Okay, I’m going to lead you around. Keep your eyes closed.”

  She nodded, still clutching the horn. He moved to Playboy’s head and clucked. The horse immediately began to move with him and he glanced up at Natalie to ensure she was all right. One step and then two, three and then four. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit his own anxiety on her behalf. As they walked, her shoulders began to relax. He turned left and Playboy followed. Colt saw her grasp the horn a little tighter when she sensed the change in direction, but she no longer sat like a kid on her first horse. She began to look more like an experienced rider. Back straight, elbows, legs and heels all in line. Her head came up and he knew she searched the darkness behind her eyes for her balance.

  “Hang on,” Colt advised.

  Natalie’s eyes popped open. “Why?”

  “Just close your eyes and hang on.”

  “You’re not going to trot, are you?”

  “Don’t worry about what I’m going to do, just focus on keeping your balance.”

  “Colt—”

  He urged Playboy to trot.

  “Colt, no—”

  He ignored her. Playboy, good horse that he was, meekly followed alongside him, picking up the pace and moving into a trot. He thought he heard Natalie yelp and checked to ensure she was still all right, pleased to see that she was still holding on and that her eyes were closed once again.

  “I’ll stop if you start to fall.”

  But she didn’t fall. She didn’t even slip off to the side. She went back to riding like a novice, but only for the first half-circle they trotted. By the time they’d completed one big loop she’d begun to relax. More than that, she began to smile.

  “Do you think you can open your eyes?”

  The smile faded. “I’d rather not.”

  “I think you should.”

  “What if I get dizzy again?”

  “I’ll catch you.”

  He could tell she didn’t want to. Jogging alongside her, he could only catch quick glimpses of her face, but her fear and insecurity seemed to ooze from every pore.

  Her eyes opened.

  He caught the moment, took care to ensure he kept his eyes on her, no easy feat while guiding a horse. He thought she might close them quickly, but she didn’t. Instead she stared straight ahead, such an intense look of concentration on her face he couldn’t help but admire her fortitude.

  He hoped to God he could face Adam’s coming battle as bravely.

  The thought took the steam out of him. He pulled Playboy up. Natalie’s gaze swung toward him, the smile on her face growing in size to the point that his plummeting spirits lifted momentarily.

  “I did it.”

  He wouldn’t have been human if he didn’t return her smile. “You did.”

  “And I didn’t barf all over you.”

  “That’s definitely a good thing.”

  And suddenly she was laughing and patting Playboy’s neck and looking so proud of herself that Colt knew he’d made the right decision in pushing her.

  * * *

  HE BAILED ON their next training session, not that Natalie blamed him. She was grateful to him for taking the time to help her overcome her fears with Playboy, even after the terrible news. She just wished she could do something to help.

  To her surprise Sam had called and asked if they could work together again. Maybe not so surprising, though. The woman still wanted to teach her horse, Roger, how to jump. Natalie didn’t mind helping. It gave her something to do.

  Three days after her breakthrough with Playboy she watched as Sam pulled up in a cherry-red pickup that reminded Natalie of her old truck, Lola. Sam was hauling a polished aluminum Platinum trailer that couldn’t have been more than a year old.

  Must be nice.

  Now, now, Natalie counseled herself. She had learned early on that thoughts such as that seldom did any good. No need to get blue about the past. She preferred to focus on the future. On what might be down the road. Sure, she missed her old life, but she counted herself fortunate. With the sale of her truck, her good show horses and her fancy European car, she’d escaped the hospital without owing any medical bills.

  Playboy was her future.

  “Well, golly gee Moses and Mary, I haven’t been out here in about a million years,” Sam said as she unfolded her tall body from the confines of her truck. Natalie noticed then that the door said Galloping Girlz...as did the side of the trailer. “I didn’t even know this place still existed.”

  Sam wasn’t being snide, Natalie realized, once again admiring her beauty. Today she wore an emerald green shirt with rhinestones all over it and a matching headband. The day had dawned bright and sunny and that light caught the shirt and headband and set them aglow. Sam’s hair flowed long and loose over her shoulders. It brought to mind Natalie’s own long hair—back when she used to have it—and how much she missed being able to pull it back from her face instead of always having it brushing her cheek as it did now.

  “I swear to God I rode my first pony at this place.”

  Natalie was glad to see her, if only to get an update on Colt and his nephew. She hadn’t wanted to call. It seemed rude to poke her nose into something like that and so she hoped to find out more from Sam.

  “Thanks so much for coming out.” Natalie walked forward, wondering if she should offer her a hand or give the woman a hug. Sam seemed friendlier today, probably because Colt wasn’t around. “I know you’re busy.”

&n
bsp; “Oh, anything for Colt.”

  “Is this her?”

  They both turned as Laney emerged from between one of the lean-to stalls and rushed forward. “Are you the Galloping Girl?”

  Sam smiled, and her words were tinged with laughter when she spotted Laney’s sparkling blue eyes. “We’re called the Galloping Girlz, and I’m Sam, their leader.”

  “I know who you are. I saw your picture on your Facebook page.”

  “Oh, yeah? Did you Like us?”

  “I did and I was hoping that maybe after you and Natalie are done you could show me some moves.”

  “I’ll do better than that. Why don’t you come out to our next practice at Reynolds’s Ranch?”

  If the woman had offered to buy Laney a new horse, the girl couldn’t have seemed more thrilled. “Oh!” She turned to Natalie. “Can I go with you next time? Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” Natalie glanced over at Sam, sharing a smile and thinking maybe the woman wasn’t so bad after all. “You’ll have to ask your parents first. I don’t think they’d want you standing on your head on the back of a horse without knowing about it first.”

  “I’ll ask, but they won’t care.”

  Natalie’s smile slipped a notch. She’d noticed Laney’s parents weren’t often around. Once, when she’d met Laney’s mom, she’d spotted the glint of something silver in the woman’s purse. A flask. She could smell the alcohol on her breath, too. Laney had seemed humiliated.

  “You should still ask.”

  “I’ll go text her right now.” And she was off, heading back to the tiny wooden locker that served as a storage unit to hold all of Laney’s secondhand tack—much of it having been Natalie’s at one time.

  “Nice kid.” The smile lingered in Sam’s eyes. “Reminds me of myself when I was younger.”

  “She’s a heck of a rider, too.” Natalie felt another twinge of melancholy. Jeez. What was with her today? “All the natural ability in the world. If I still had my lesson horses I’d be teaching her to jump.”