Taming a Texas Rascal (Bad Boy Ranch Book 6)

by Katie Lane

  “I got this!” she snapped. But when she settled down on Maytag’s back, she measured out a little more rein.

  Sawyer proved to be right. The horse bucked faster than any horse she’d ever been on and made her feel like she was being agitated in a washer. His hooves barely touched the ground before he was high-kicking again. She usually could catch the rhythm of a horse within a few bucks, but it took her twice as long with Maytag. And even then, she knew her form wasn’t as good as it should’ve been. Still, she hung on. She hung on until the buzzer sounded. Unfortunately, before the pickup men could get to her, the horse gave a high buck and sent Maisy flying.

  She landed on her shoulder and the searing pain that knifed through her made her suck in a mouthful of arena dirt. Knowing her injuries would be even worse if she got caught under the horse’s hooves, she started to roll out of the way. Before she could, something landed on top of her. A grunt close to her ear made her realize it was a person. The scent of spicy soap, leather, and horse identified who the person was.

  “Get off me, Sawyer Dawson.” She forced the words out between her gritted teeth. She had wanted him on top of her, but not like this. A few seconds later, Sawyer complied. Except when she sat up, she realized he’d had to have help getting off her. He was laid out on the ground next to her unconscious as two rodeo cowboys leaned over him.

  “Get the ambulance!” One of the cowboys called.

  While she was trying to process what had happened, another cowboy knelt next to her. “You okay?”

  She shook her head. “I think I broke my collarbone.”

  He glanced back at Sawyer who still wasn’t moving. “You would’ve broken more than that if Saw hadn’t protected you from Maytag’s hooves with his body. He saved your life, Little Girl.”

  Chapter Three

  Once again, Sawyer woke with a headache and memory loss. But this headache was twice as bad as the last. He knew this pain. He’d woken up with it before. It was the all-consuming pain that came along with a concussion. He felt around his scalp and found a large lump on the back of his head. He tried to remember how he’d gotten it, but his brain couldn’t pull anything up.

  He opened his eyes to see if he could find something in his hotel room to jog his memory. But he wasn’t in a hotel room. He was in a small room with rounded silver walls and windows with curtains that had little cowboys wielding six-shooters. The curtains were swaying in a way that made Sawyer feel nauseous. At first, he thought it was the breeze coming in through the windows that made the curtains move, but then he realized the entire room was moving.

  He sat up too quickly and had to close his eyes to regain his balance. When he opened them, he discovered he was in a trailer. A moving trailer. He pushed back the curtains of the closest window and looked out at the side of a semi-truck that was passing. When it was gone, he saw landscape he was familiar with. He was still in Texas.

  Tossing off the covers, he swung his feet to the floor and stood. He wore a hospital gown. Which was curious. He had never left a hospital wearing a gown. Using the walls to keep his balance, he made his way to the bathroom. Once he had relieved himself, he searched for his clothes. He found his duffel bag in a small closet. It had been packed haphazardly, but everything seemed to be there.

  As he was pulling on a pair of boxers, the trailer took a sudden turn and he landed on his butt on the floor. His head swam and his stomach lurched. He was still sitting there trying to get his equilibrium when the door swung open and Maisy Sweeney stepped in.

  His memory came back in the form of emotions. Consuming desire as he filled his palms with two firm, sweet butt cheeks. Startled shock when he realized who the fine ass belonged to. Guilt and self-loathing at betraying a friend. Cold fear when he discovered the condom in his wallet. A surge of protectiveness when he watched Maisy go flying over Maytag’s head.

  “So you’re alive,” she said as she stepped into the trailer. She wore a pair of gray sweats and hot pink flip-flops. The clothes were baggy and hid any outline of womanly curves. And yet, his brain wouldn’t erase what those curves had looked like naked.

  He closed his eyes for a minute to block out the image, but it only made it worse. He got to his feet. “Barely alive.” He glanced at the sling on her arm. “You okay?”

  “Hell, no, I’m not okay. I have a busted clavicle and will be out of rodeo for the rest of the season—which will probably lose me a sponsorship from Cord Evans. And now I’m saddled with a stubborn cowboy who doesn’t know how to follow the doc’s orders. You should still be in the hospital.”

  “I’m fine.” He pulled on his jeans.

  “Suffering your third concussion is not fine.”

  He stopped buttoning his jeans and stared at her. “Who told you that?”

  “I just happened to be in the curtained cubicle right next to yours and overheard the doc talking to you.” She paused. “He seemed to be worried about chronic traumatic encephalopathy and recommended that you quit saddle bronc riding. Which was when you cussed him out and left in nothing but your backless nightie.” Her gaze lowered. “The nurses all agreed that you have a nice butt, by the way.”

  He cringed as he sat down on the bench next to the table and pulled on his socks. “Thanks for letting me walk out of the hospital with my ass showing.”

  “Hey, I tried to stop you. You should be happy I talked you into letting me drive you back to your hotel. You were planning to walk and half of Houston would’ve gotten a peek at your cheeks.”

  He must’ve really gotten his bell rung. He glanced around. “Why am I not at the hotel?”

  “Because I couldn’t leave you there when you didn’t know who you were. I mentioned calling your family, but you were pretty adamant about not doing that. And I get it. I have no intention of telling my mom about my busted collarbone either. So I brought you along with me to Simple.”

  “Simple? We’re headed to Simple?”

  “It’s close and I thought it was a good place for both of us to recuperate. We’re about fifty miles away.”

  Since it was too late to argue, he nodded. “Where are my boots?”

  Maisy stood on her tiptoes and reached above the table to open a cabinet. As she did, her shirt lifted and he found himself staring at a flat stomach and an inny belly button that was so close he could’ve licked it. He looked away until she had his boots in hand. As he took them, her gaze locked with his.

  “You didn’t have to come to my rescue, Sawyer. I could’ve gotten out of the way.”

  So that was why she had followed him out of the hospital and taken care of him. She thought she owed him. “You don’t owe me anything, Maisy. I would’ve helped any injured rider.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “By throwing your body over them?”

  She had a point. He had helped other hurt riders out of the arena, but never at the risk of his own life. He hadn’t even thought when he’d seen her get bucked off. He’d just reacted. Some of his protectiveness came from years of being taught by his daddy that it was a man’s job to protect women. Some of it came from wanting to make up for breaking Lincoln’s trust. And most of it came from the possibility that his child could be taking root inside of her even as they spoke.

  At the thought, he suddenly felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. A cool hand rested on his forehead, and he opened his eyes to see Maisy standing there, looking concerned.

  “You okay?”

  Nope. He wasn’t okay. He was freaked out and had been ever since seeing the condom in his wallet. He reached behind him and touched the lump on the back of his head. “Did the doc give me any painkillers?”

  “He might’ve if you’d stayed longer. But I’ve got some ibuprofen.” She opened a cabinet above the sink and took out a bottle of Advil. She handed it to him, then filled a glass with water. Once he’d taken three, she held out her hand. “Give me a couple.”

  He set down the glass of water and tapped two tablets into her hand. “You sh
ouldn’t be driving with a busted collarbone.”

  She popped the ibuprofen into her mouth and then picked up the glass and downed the rest of the water before she replied. “And you shouldn’t be walking around with a busted head. But there you have it. We’re just a couple of stubborn rodeo bums who don’t know what’s good for us. Now I’m going to finish getting gas and get back on the road. You need to lie down.”

  “My stomach can’t take riding in the back of this swaying trailer.”

  She studied him for a second and must’ve seen that he wasn’t going to relent. “Fine. Come on then.”

  He pulled on a t-shirt and followed her out of the trailer. He was more than a little surprised to see his old Ford pickup hitched to the back. He wasn’t so sure it was legal to double-tow, but he was damned happy Maisy hadn’t left old Belle behind. It had been his granddaddy’s. And even though it broke down every other month, it held a special place in his heart.

  Although towing a trailer and a vehicle made the fifty-mile trip to Simple slow going. They didn’t pull under the entrance sign of the Double Diamond ranch until well after dark. Before they reached the ranch house, Sawyer figured there was something they needed to discuss.

  “I guess you should probably take a pregnancy test,” he said. “Or can you take them this soon?” God, he hoped so. He couldn’t deal with the guillotine hanging over his head for much longer.

  “About that.” There was a long pause. “I . . . uhh . . . started my period.”

  Overwhelming relief swept through him and he slumped back in the seat and covered his face with his hands. For the first time since finding the condom, he felt like he could breathe. “Thank God . . . oh, thank God.”

  “Yeah, you certainly wouldn’t want to have a baby with me.”

  Maisy’s sarcastic tone had him lowering his hands and staring at her. “And you’d want to have a baby with me?”

  She snorted. “Are you kidding? You’re the last man on earth I’d want to have a baby with. If I ever decide to have kids it won’t be with someone just like my daddy.”

  It was the worst insult she could’ve given Sawyer.

  Sam Sweeney had been a mean asshole who pulled pranks on all the Double Diamond boys when he’d worked at the ranch. He’d put vinegar in Cru’s canteen. Put Val on an unbroken horse. And loosened Sawyer’s saddle so he almost fell off while riding. When Chester and Lucas found out about the pranks, they’d fired Sam and kicked him off the ranch. No one gave much thought to Sam until Maisy came looking for her father a few months back. He had disappeared after leaving the Double Diamond, and it took both Lincoln and Dixie to solve the mystery of what happened to him. Sam had been shot and killed by the ex-sheriff. Sawyer hadn’t wanted Sam dead, but he certainly hadn’t liked the guy either.

  “I’m nothing like your father. He was a mean-spirited jerk who enjoyed pulling pranks on young—”

  He cut off when Maisy suddenly slammed on the brakes. He grabbed onto the dashboard and reached an arm across Maisy. When they came to a complete halt, he realized why she had stopped so suddenly.

  A horse stood in the middle of the road. A damn fine-looking black stallion. Its eyes were wild and its coat lathered as if it had run a long ways. The reason it wasn’t running anymore was the swollen fetlock it was favoring. Since Chester and Lucas hadn’t mentioned getting a new horse, the stallion must belong to the Gardener ranch that Cru Cassidy and Logan McCord ran with their wives.

  “You have a rope?” Sawyer asked.

  Maisy sent him a sardonic look as if that was the stupidest question she’d ever heard before she reached behind the seat and grabbed a rope. When he went to take it, she pulled back. “I can rope him.”

  “I don’t doubt that you can. But since you have a broken collarbone, it makes more sense that I do it.” For a moment, he thought she was going to argue, but then she finally relented and handed him the rope.

  They both eased open their doors and slipped out. Sawyer cringed at the sound of the gravel crunching beneath his boots, but the horse was more interested in Maisy who had started talking softly.

  “Hey, there. You’re not going to give us any trouble, are you, big fellow. You’re going to be a perfect angel. That’s what I’m gonna call you. Dark Angel. Now, Angel, we’re not gonna hurt you. In fact, we’re gonna take care of your hurt leg and get you some nice oats to fill your belly . . . that’s if a certain cowboy would quit messing around and hurry up and rope you.”

  Sawyer swung the lasso he’d made and released it. It sailed over the horse’s head and he quickly secured the other end to the hitch on the front bumper. The horse fought against the rope for a few minutes before it finally quieted and stood there trembling and staring at them with fearful eyes. When Sawyer stepped closer, he realized the leg wasn’t the only injury the horse had. There were open wounds on its flanks as if someone had beaten him with a riding crop. Maisy noticed them at the same time.

  “What kind of no-account lowdown snake would do that?” she said with disgust.

  “Not anyone from the Gardener ranch, that’s for sure. This horse must belong to someone else.”

  She glanced at him. “You took your good sweet time roping him.”

  “I guess you would’ve been quicker.”

  “Hell, yeah. I was a damned good calf-roper. Much to my mama’s dismay, it turned out to be a little too tame for my blood. She prays everyday I’ll come to my senses and quit bronc riding.”

  “You’re too good to quit.”

  There was a long pause as if she didn’t know how to take the compliment. Finally, she nodded. “Thanks. But I wasn’t good enough to beat your score today.”

  He was surprised. She should have beaten his score. She’d drawn a tougher horse and showed much better technique than he had. Than he ever had. He had skill, but Maisy had a gift. Something he hadn’t realized until he’d watched her today. She hadn’t just ridden the horse. She’d danced with him—following his every move with grace and style. Sawyer was envious. And not just of her skill. Maisy was at the beginning of her career and would only get better. He was at the end of his and would only get worse. Which meant he couldn’t take time off. He needed to get back on the circuit. Concussion or not.

  “Let’s get this horse to the Double Diamond,” he said.

  The horse must’ve been exhausted because it gave Sawyer no trouble when he led it around to the back of his truck and tied the rope to the hitch. Maisy took it slow and Sawyer sat in the bed of his truck to kept an eye on the horse.

  When they pulled in front of the house and Sawyer jumped out, the horse immediately started rearing and jerking at the rope. “It’s okay, Angel,” he said. “This is the Double Diamond ranch. You’re going to like it here. It’s a good place to heal.”

  He didn’t know how true his words were until the door opened and Lucas and Chester stepped out. Just seeing the two old cowboys made the tension he’d felt in the last twenty-four hours melt away.

  “There you are, boy.” Chester came down the porch steps with Lucas. “We thought it would be another sixteen years before we got to see you again, instead of just a few months.” He started to give Sawyer a slap on the back, but Maisy stopped him.

  “Be careful. Sawyer has a concussion.”

  “A concussion?” Chester studied him.

  He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

  “A concussion is not nothing.” Lucas said. “I’ve had a couple of those and they can rattle your brains good.” His gaze narrowed on Maisy. “And what happened to you?”

  “Busted collarbone.”

  “Well, it looks like you two have had quite a day.” Chester glanced at the horse. “Whose horse it that?”

  “We don’t know,” Sawyer said. “Maisy and I found him a mile or so back. It looked like he’d been running for a while. Probably from whoever abused him. He’s been whipped.”

  Chester shook his head. “Some folks shouldn’t be allowed around animals. I’ll get him fed and be
dded down.”

  “I’ll help. He’s a little skittish.”

  “No, you won’t. I can handle a skittish horse.” Chester pointed to the house. “You need to get to bed.”

  “And you too, missy,” Lucas looked at Maisy. “You can have my room and I’ll bunk with Chester.”

  “That’s sure hospitable of you,” Maisy said. “But once I get Sawyer’s truck unhitched, I’m going to head to the Lucky Lane Trailer Park.”

  “You’ll do no such a thing.” Chester gave her a stern look. “You have no business driving with a broken collarbone.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, missy.” Lucas herded Sawyer and Maisy toward the house like a herding dog. “Both of you inside now. I have some chili on the stove and some apple pie cooling in the windowsill.”

  Sawyer really didn’t want Maisy to stay. Especially when he was having trouble keeping the shower images out of his head. But he didn’t like the thought of her driving back to town alone either.

  “You might as well stay,” he said. “I’m sure Lucas made enough food to feed an army.”

  Lucas laughed. “Not an army. But there’s enough for two old farts and a banged-up rodeo cowboy and cowgirl.”

  Chapter Four

  The sun pushed its way above the horizon with rays of pink and tangerine, reflecting off the dew-drenched wild grass that grew everywhere on the Double Diamond ranch.

  Maisy leaned back in the wooden rocker and stared out at the soothing scenery. But she didn’t feel soothed. Somewhere on this land, her father was buried. Sheriff Willaby knew where, but he wasn’t talking. No doubt because he knew if they didn’t find a body, the prosecutor didn’t have much of a case. The one bone that had been found couldn’t be identified as Sam Sweeney’s. Lincoln had sent it to a specialized forensic lab in Washington D.C. in hopes that they could identify it. Until they did, or until they found Sam’s body, Maisy was having trouble getting closure.