To Catch A Cowboy (Hunks and Horses Book 2)

by Maggie Carpenter

  "Theresa, what's with the glove?"

  "Uh, nothing," she lied as she began to drive forward.

  "Nothing? Then why is there blood on your wrist?"

  Dropping her eyes, she spied the telltale red droplet.

  "I had a little accident, but honestly, I'm fine."

  "The hell you are. Pull up to the arena. I have a first aid kit in my office."

  "I don't want to be any trouble."

  "Then do as I ask. I'm puttin' on my instructor's hat. That means you do as you're told."

  "But I'm not in training."

  "You obviously need to be," he retorted, "or are you after that spankin' you asked me for the other night? Pull in over there."

  With her stomach flipping, and her face flushing scarlet, she rolled to a stop by the entrance and turned off the engine. Her finger had begun throbbing, and she climbed out cautiously, not wanting to bang it as she closed her door. Josh had marched quickly to her side, and taking hold of her wrist, he lifted her arm.

  "Keep your hand elevated. I didn't mean to be harsh, but you can't fool around with deep cuts," he said, his voice softening as he guided her inside the busy barn.

  "I didn't mean to be difficult. It's just a bit embarrassing. Josh, there's a lot going on here," she remarked, spying his students in the throes of last minute chores. "Are you sure you have time for me?"

  "Of course. What you're seein' is more excitement than work."

  Entering his office, as he sat her in a chair in front of his desk, she recalled the moment between Heath and Carly in the kitchen the day before. When it came to Carly's well-being Heath pulled no punches. Theresa had found it sexy and endearing, and now Josh was showering her with the same attention. She loved it. She loved it so much she wanted to throw her arms around his neck and smother his face with grateful kisses.

  "You're not attached to that glove, I hope," he said, opening a cabinet to retrieve a black leather bag and a hand towel.

  "Not particularly. Why?"

  "I'm going to cut it away."

  "Isn't that a little dramatic?"

  "Possibly, but it's easier," he declared, sitting next to her and wrapping the towel around her wrist. "Hold that." Using small, blunt nosed scissors, Josh cut the rubber glove, then cautiously lifting it away, he found her hand covered in blood. "I'm going to remove the paper. Because the wound has been under pressure, you might feel some discomfort."

  "You sound like a doctor. That's the word they use when they mean it's going to hurt like hell."

  "Yeah, well, that's because I was in med school for five minutes."

  "Seriously. Ouch! Discomfort! Ouch."

  "This cut needs stitches. It looks like you tried to slice off the nub of your finger. What happened?"

  "I was dicing vegetables. The phone rang and made me jump."

  "Damn, girl. Yep. Three should do it."

  "Oh, great. I guess I'll need to go—"

  "Nowhere. I can handle this," he said, cutting her off. "I'll numb the area, then treat it, a couple of sweeps with the needle, and you'll be done. Pick a spot on the wall to stare at, and talk to me as I work. It will make it easier for you."

  "I can't believe you're able to do this."

  "I come from a long line of doctors," he said, shooting her a wink. "Talk to me. Tell me why you went to the Horseshoe Tavern? Did you need to drown some sorrows?"

  "Uh, no, I just wanted—ow!"

  "Sorry. You wanted…?"

  "A night out. Why did you leave med school?"

  "I liked the science of medicine, but I didn't like the hours in the books. I thought about being a vet, but that had the same problem."

  "How did you get into training?"

  "Totally by accident. The instructor at the barn where I boarded my horse asked me to step in and teach the kids for a month. Long story short, I fell in love with teaching and I never looked back."

  "Wow. That's amazing."

  "Yeah, I think so too. There you go. Keep it dry, and the dressing should be changed in three days."

  Dropping her eyes to study his work, she found her finger dressed in white gauze.

  "Josh, you're a lifesaver. Thank you. Thank you so much. I'll bake you a batch of brownies. Everyone says they're the best, and they are, but I can't take credit. The recipe came from my grandmother."

  "I will gratefully accept them in half-payment for my services."

  "Half?"

  "The other half is your company for dinner when I get back from the show."

  "I'd love it. Can I meet Queenie now?"

  "Absolutely," he said, rising from his chair and closing up his bag, "but I'll drive."

  Walking back outside, they climbed into the Land Rover, and after pausing for a quick word with his workers, he drove down a gravel road behind the barn.

  "I don't think I've been back there."

  "The area is restricted for boarders. Helps to prevent strangers wanderin' in and messin' with the horses."

  "That's an excellent idea. One of the things I like so much about Dream Horse Ranch is the security and privacy."

  "How do you like workin' for Heath Boyd?"

  "He's terrific, and I love the ranch and the horses. I especially love waking up to the quiet. That was the first thing that struck me. Not hearing sirens all the time," she said, a slight frown creasing her brow. "I never want to leave this peaceful life."

  "Yep. Bein' in God's country—there's nothin' like it, though we have our share of drama."

  As they approached a gate, Theresa understood why she'd been unaware of the pastures. A narrow thicket hid the paddocks and horses from view.

  "The code is 1,2,3,4," he declared, pulling to a stop at a keypad in front of a gate.

  Driving slowly forward, two golden retrievers bounded up to meet them, then ran alongside the car as Josh drove it to a parking area next to a large hay storage shed.

  "That's Ben and Jerry, the paddock's official welcoming committee."

  "Ben and Jerry? That's hilarious."

  "Apparently they were holy terrors when they were puppies. Ice-cream calmed them down for five minutes."

  "Who owns this place?"

  "A real nice couple. John and Terry Coleman. They're older though, and I'm worried they'll sell. I knew the risk when I agreed to come on board, but I'm startin' to wonder if I should have passed."

  "For the record," she said as he came to a stop and turned off the engine, "I'm glad you didn't."

  "Yeah. Me too," he replied, grinning at her.

  As she climbed out, Ben and Jerry demanded attention, and though careful with her hand, she crouched down and surrendered to their wet kisses.

  "A word of warnin'," Josh said as he joined her. "Don't throw their ball. They'll never leave you alone, and they're relentless."

  "Ah, thanks for the tip," she said, straightening up. "Shoot. I left in such a hurry I forgot to grab some carrots."

  "No problem."

  Reaching into his pocket they walked to the large, fenced pens, he withdrew several bite-sized treats.

  "Josh, these smell like peppermints. I want one."

  "Queenie loves 'em. At Christmas she gets molasses cookies with a hard peppermint candy inside. I swear she rolls her eyes."

  "That sounds good to me too. Where is she?"

  "Just down here. She must be standin' in her shelter. You can see how they're back-to-back. I like that she's lookin' at the mountains and trees rather than the feed storage and arena."

  "Definitely. I'm sure she feels more at ease thinking she's in the middle of nature."

  "Yep. I'll announce our arrival," he said, bringing his fingers to his lips and letting out a whistle. "Here she comes. Theresa? Are you okay?"

  But Theresa was speechless.

  The big-boned chestnut walking to the gate sported a white blaze, a flaxen tail, and a roached mane.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Unable to wrap her brain around the extraordinary sight, Theresa hadn't noticed Josh had tur
ned to face her, and she'd barely heard his question.

  "How is this possible?" she muttered, her goosebumps springing to life. "How?"

  "How is what possible?" Josh pressed, walking over to her. "Theresa, what's goin' on?"

  "I, uh, I'm not sure."

  "Are you feelin' faint?"

  "No, no, it's nothing like that."

  "Then what is it. You're lookin' at Queenie like she's a ghost. Do you recognize her?"

  "In a way."

  "You're startin' to worry me. What do you mean, in a way?"

  "I need to move closer."

  "Go ahead, she's real friendly, but you've gotta tell me what's goin' on."

  "Uh, I will, but may I have one of those peppermint things?"

  "I thought you were afraid to feed a horse."

  "I am, but not this one."

  She was speaking softly, her attention focused on the mare, but when Josh handed her the horse treat, she glanced down at it, then lifted her eyes to meet his.

  "I'm not sure how to tell you this, so I'll just say it. I had a dream last night and Queenie was a big part of it."

  "A horse that looked like Queenie. Damn."

  "No. Not a horse that looked like her, it was her."

  "I was probably ridin' when you were here at some point and she stuck in your head."

  "But, Josh, I've never seen you on a horse except that one time you got on Ranger and did a demonstration."

  "Damn. I don't know what to say," he mumbled. "You're sure you've never her before today?"

  "I'm sure," she replied, then shifting her eyes back to the mare, she walked slowly up to the gate. "Hey, Queenie, aren't you lovely? You're the most beautiful horse I've ever seen."

  Opening her hand, Theresa offered the treat, and feeling no fear, she watched as Queenie's large lips gently scooped it up. Overwhelmed and fighting joyous tears, she moved her palm across the mare's neck.

  "How long do we have?" she asked, as he stepped up and stood beside her.

  "I've got about forty-five minutes before I need to do my final check and roll out."

  "Is that enough time for me to sit on her?"

  "Did I hear you right? You wanna get on?"

  "I do. Just for a few minutes."

  "You are full of surprises."

  "Can I?"

  "Are you sure about this?"

  "I'm totally sure, and, uh…I don't want a saddle."

  "Whoa. Theresa, you need a saddle. You'll be more secure."

  "I don't want one. Really. I know she'll like it better, and so will I."

  "Now you're startin' to freak me out."

  "Why?"

  "That's her favorite way to be ridden. She does best when I'm on her bareback. That's how I ride when I go out on the trail."

  "Really?"

  "How the hell did you know that?"

  "Not a clue, except for the dream. In the dream I was on her bareback. I've dreamt about her twice. The first time I wasn't riding her though."

  "No kiddin'? This is wild. Okay, let's take her into the arena."

  "I'm so happy right now I could cry. This is a dream come true. Literally. Well, almost. Thank you," she said, impulsively throwing her arm around his neck and hugging him. "You're the best. You're the absolute best."

  "I still can't believe it you wanna get on my mare, but I'm real happy you do."

  "I'm thrilled beyond words," she said breathlessly, pulling back and gazing up at him.

  As abruptly as she'd thrown her arms around him, he fisted her hair and kissed her. Theresa's heart hammered in her chest, a flood soaked her sex, and she wanted to be with him more than she'd ever wanted to be with anyone.

  "I reckon we'd best get movin'," he mumbled in her ear, "or I won't be responsible for my actions."

  Stepping back to catch her breath, she watched him lift Queenie's halter off the post next to the gate, step into the pen, slip it over her head and walk her out.

  "Can I lead her?" she asked hopefully.

  "I'm still tryin' to come to grips with your one-eighty, but here you go," he said, grinning broadly as he handed her the rope.

  "I trust her. She's special," Theresa declared as they started walking to the arena.

  "I won't argue with that. She's always had a way about her."

  "What do you mean by—a way about her."

  "All horses are sensitive. They're prey, and they're always alert and scannin'. They scan people, smells, movement, everything in their environment. But this horse, her sensitivity, if you wanna call it that, goes beyond the norm. Since the day I met her, she's shown an inklin' about things. Especially people."

  "Can you give me an example?"

  "Sure can. When I said, since the day I met her, I mean it. I found her at a feed lot."

  "What's a feed lot?"

  "A fancy name for a killer's yard."

  "No! That's horrible."

  "You'd be surprised the horses that show up there. I've rescued a dozen or more over the last few years. Anyway, even though she was skinny and outta shape and I liked the look of her, the foreman told me to forget it. Said a number of people had wanted to rescue her, and had a helluva time catchin' her, so they'd walked away, but I decided to give it try. He gave me a halter, I walked in the paddock, and as I got close to her, she kinda eyed me, then just walked right on up as sweet as could be. The foreman was floored. Couldn't believe it. I loaded her in my trailer, and she's never given me any problems."

  "That's an amazing story."

  "But even now, there are certain people she won't take a carrot from, and darn it if she isn't right every time. She doesn't do anything nasty, she just calmly turns her head and walks away."

  "Oh, my gosh."

  "Yep, Queenie's special, but how she ended up in your dreams? That's a question that's gonna be plaguin' me for a long while."

  "Unless we get an answer."

  "I don't see how."

  "Maybe I'll dream it."

  "Hah. Maybe you will," he said with a chuckle.

  They'd entered the barn aisle adjacent to the riding ring, and while Theresa kept hold of the lead rope, Josh moved into the tack room to fetch the bridle.

  "Queenie, I wish you could talk," Theresa murmured, gazing into the large, soft brown eyes. "Why were you in my dreams?"

  To Theresa's surprise, the mare lowered her head and gave Theresa a gentle nudge.

  "Oh, my gosh. You speak English. This is incredible."

  "I think that sometimes," Josh remarked, walking up with the bridle. "I can ride her in that halter, but I think we should use this. Why are you grinnin' like that?"

  "No reason."

  "You're a terrible liar," he said, grinning back at her.

  "All we're going to do is walk around the ring. Why do we need a bridle at all?"

  "We need a bridle so you have reins in your hand, that's why. She's a special girl, but she's still a horse, and horses can—"

  "She won't do anything wrong."

  "Who's the trainer around here?"

  "If you want me to answer that truthfully, I'd have to say she is."

  Queenie snorted, sending Theresa into a fit of laughter, but when Josh started to remove the halter a second time, Queenie moved her head.

  "Dang it."

  "See?" Theresa exclaimed. "She's telling you she doesn't need it."

  "How can I win with two women joinin' forces against me?"

  "You can't."

  "Fine. I'll compromise. I'll take the reins off the bridle and put 'em on the halter," he declared, but as he moved the leather rein through the holder, he muttered, "I can't believe I'm doin' this."

  "We can," Theresa said with a giggle.

  "Hey, don't push your luck, young lady."

  "Or…?"

  "Do it and find out."

  "I'm not worried. You're leaving in thirty-minutes."

  "But I'll be back, and I have an excellent memory. There. Done."

  "I'm so excited I can't stand it."

&
nbsp; "You be careful with that finger," he warned as they walked into the arena. "You could bang it gettin' on."

  "Thanks for the reminder. That's just the sort of thing I'd do."

  "One more time. Are you absolutely sure you wanna do this, and are you absolutely sure you don't want a saddle."

  "Yes and yes."

  "I still can't believe it," he said, shaking his head as he lined Queenie up next to the mounting block. "I'll hold her while you—"

  But Theresa had already jumped on the platform and was swinging her leg over the mare's back.

  "This is fantastic. I could sit up here forever."

  "You're lucky she has a nice flat, muscled back. You ready for a walk?"

  "So ready."

  "It's gonna feel a bit strange at first. Any time you wanna get off—"

  "I won't. You were right when you said you'd have a hard time getting me off once I was on."

  "Watch that finger, and pick up the reins."

  As Queenie began to move, Theresa let out a happy sigh. Completely at ease, she ran her fingers across the top of the mare's bristled mane.

  "Why did you do this to her?"

  "Her mane is thick and it's hard to take care of."

  "I think she'd rather have it long and flowing."

  "Dang it."

  "What?"

  "She gives me trouble every time I pull out the clippers."

  "Why don't you listen?"

  "I told you. Her mane is thick, and it's a pain."

  "But it's beautiful, and she needs her mane. It keeps her warm in winter and the flies off her neck in summer."

  "Listen to the expert."

  "I read about it. Tell me I'm wrong."

  "Why don't you enjoy your five-minute walk around this ring instead of arguin' with me?"

  "I am enjoying my ride, a lot, and I'm not arguing, I'm simply saying having her mane like this might make life easier for you, but it's not right for her."

  "I'll make you a deal. I'll let it grow out if you promise to come here and keep it groomed."

  "Yes, please. I'd love that."

  "Good. I'm happy and you're happy."

  "And Queenie will be happier than both of us."

  "You know you sound like a ten-year old on Christmas mornin'."

  "Maybe because that's how I feel. When I dashed out of the ranch this morning I didn't expect you to be a doctor who would stitch up my finger, and I certainly never expected to be sitting on the horse from my dreams."