by Katie Lane
“You’re right,” he said as he tossed the carrot into the feed trough. “You shouldn’t expect anything from anyone. It only leads to disappointment.”
“That wasn’t exactly the point I was trying to make. You need to accept animals and people for who they are. Not for what you want them to be. That horse may never let anyone ride him and that’s okay. You might not be exactly what your parents wanted you to be, but you’re still a good man. A good man who will make a good father. If the time comes, I know you’ll figure out what needs to be done and do it. Now, I’m going to bed. That Gert might be old, but she’s still got plenty of energy.”
When Lucas was gone, Sawyer looked at the horse as he munched on the carrot he had retrieved from the trough. “Okay, Angel, no expectations.” He tossed the blanket over the fence and headed out of the paddock. After he mucked out Angel’s stall and put in fresh straw, he released Misty into the back pasture and saddled up Doris and Cookie.
As he led them out of the barn, Chester came out of the house. Sawyer knew by the look on his face that Lucas had told him about Maisy. He waited for the old guy to get after him, but Chester didn’t.
“You going for a morning ride?”
“Yes, sir.”
Chester nodded. “Make sure you rub ‘em down when you bring ‘em back.”
“Yes, sir.” Sawyer swung up in Doris’s saddle and headed out with Cookie bringing up the rear. He could smell the bacon cooking a good mile before he reached Maisy’s trailer. Maisy was standing out front, cooking on a charcoal grill. She wore a t-shirt, baggie boxers, and flip-flops. Her hair was in a straggly ponytail on the top of her head. She didn’t look all that surprised to see him.
“Mornin’,” she said.
“Mornin’.” He swung down from the saddle and tied both horses to the back of the trailer. “Please tell me there’s enough bacon for me.”
“Hell, no.” She grinned. “I never share my bacon.”
He sent her a pleading look. “Not even for a cowboy straight off the trail?”
She laughed. “You mean straight from Lucas’s kitchen, where he probably fed you plenty of food.”
“He didn’t make breakfast. He spent the night with Miss Gertie and didn’t get home until early this morning.” He leaned over her shoulder to look at the bacon sizzling in the pan she’d placed on the grill. He didn’t know what smelled better, the bacon or Maisy. If someone could figure out how to bottle the smell of sunshine and bacon, they’d make a million dollars.
“Fine. You can have some bacon.” Maisy pushed him away. “Just stop crowding me, rodeo bum.” He sat down in a nearby lawn chair, and she went back to cooking. “I heard Miss Gertie and Lucas were an item,” she said. “Of course, you can’t believe everything you hear. The town is all abuzz about me being pregnant.”
“And you could be.”
“I’m not.”
She was so damned stubborn. “Dixie texted me and said she got you an appointment with the doc in a couple weeks.”
“I’m sure she did,” she said.
“I thought I’d go with you.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Just to make sure I don’t bribe the doctor to change the results? I just have one question. How do you get concussions when you’re so hardheaded?”
He laughed. “It doesn’t make sense, does it? But at least I’m not an overachiever who thinks she can do everything better than everybody else and enjoys proving it.”
“I don’t think I’m good at everything.”
“Really? Name one thing you’ve tried that you can’t do.”
She scrunched up her nose as if she was struggling to find something. He didn’t know why that made him grin, but it did. “Blow a bubble. I can’t blow a bubble with bubble gum. I tried and tried as a kid, but could never accomplish it.”
He widened his eyes in shock. “Lord have mercy, Maisy Sweeney can’t blow a bubble. Say it isn’t so?”
She sent him an annoyed look before she went back to turning the bacon. “Now you’re just being a smart butt. And what’s wrong with wanting to be a good at things?”
His gaze took in the firm muscles of her legs, muscles she’d earned. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with it. Everyone likes being the best.”
“Do you?”
He was surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged, but didn’t turn around. “I don’t know. Sometimes when I watch you ride I get the feeling you’re holding back. That you could be a lot better than you are.”
She was getting way too close for comfort. He forced a laugh. “Hey, I’ve won my fair share of rodeos.”
She turned around, her big brown eyes serious. “Is that your goal? To win a few rodeos?”
“What’s wrong with that? Not everyone has to be the best. Maybe I just like the adrenaline and thrill of the ride.”
“For me, it’s not just the adrenaline rush and thrill of the ride. I love it all. The sight of a packed arena and the smell of horse manure, beer, and nachos, and the sounds of the gate springing open and the roar of the crowd when the eight-second buzzer sounds. But mostly I love the feeling of being in complete sync with the horse. In that moment, it feels like I have the world by its tail. And I do want to be the best. But not just for my ego. I want to be the best for every little girl out there who has a dream that some jerk has tried to squash because of antiquated societal gender roles.”
Sawyer was struck speechless not just by her words, but also by the passion behind them. It humbled him. And made him speak the truth.
“I chose saddle bronc riding because it was the last thing people expected me to do.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“Not only am I an underachiever. I’m also obstinate.” He nodded at the grill. “And the bacon’s burning.”
The bacon didn’t burn. It was cooked exactly the way he liked it—extra crispy. The over-medium eggs she made to go with the bacon were perfect as well. The whites cooked and yolks runny. She grilled some toast too and slathered it with butter and strawberry jam. They ate outside on a little fold-out table under the red-and-white striped awning with the wild Texas land encircling them like a warm comforting blanket. The fact that it was his land made it all the better. Maybe Maisy was right. Maybe he did need a place to call home.
Thankfully, she didn’t return to the topic of his underachievement. Instead, they swapped rodeo stories and Sawyer laughed more than he had in a long time. He suddenly realized that the last time he’d enjoyed himself so much had been at Lincoln and Dixie’s wedding.
When they finished eating, she glanced at the horses. “Did you intend to ask me to go riding or do you always travel with a spare horse?”
He smiled. “I always travel with a spare horse. But since you shared your bacon, I’ll be willing to share a horse.”
While she changed for riding, he carried the dishes inside and washed them at her little sink. He was looking for a towel to dry the pan when he pulled open a drawer and a photograph caught his eye. He took it out to get a closer look. It was a picture of Sam Sweeney holding a saddle with a rope looped over his shoulder. He was younger than Sawyer remembered. And he didn’t look nearly as mean. His eyes were Maisy’s. Or Maisy’s were his. His smile made him look like any young, cocky cowboy.
Sawyer now understood why she had held on for so long to the belief that Sam was still alive. This was the man Maisy loved. The father she’d dreamed about meeting and having a relationship with. The happy cowboy she was unable to let go.
A sound from the bedroom had him putting the picture back and continuing to look for the dish towel. He found one in the bottom drawer and was drying the pan when Maisy stepped out. She looked like she always looked. Hair in two braids, t-shirt, and faded jeans. She had the sling back on. She adjusted the shoulder strap as she spoke.
“A cowboy who knows how to do dishes. Be still my heart. No wonder you were so popular with the buckle bunnies.”
“They never got to see my dishwashing skills because they never shared their bacon.”
“Cold-hearted hussies.”
He laughed. “Now there’s a name for your ranch. The Cold-Hearted Hussy Ranch.”
“How about the Sizzling Bacon Ranch?”
“The Sassy Cowgirl.” He snapped the dishtowel at her butt. “You ready for me to show you how real riding is done, sassy cowgirl?”
She sent him the sassiest of smiles. “Bring it on, rodeo bum.”
Chapter Twelve
“Angel’s got a thing for Doris.” Maisy leaned her arms on the railing and watched as the big black stallion pranced around the paddock showing off for the mare, who was eating grass in the pasture and completely ignoring him.
Sawyer leaned on the railing next to her. His muscular forearms with the light sprinkling of golden hair were extremely distracting. Of course, everything was distracting about the man. Maisy couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off him. “And what makes you think it’s not Cookie or Misty he’s showing off for?” he asked.
“He told me.”
Sawyer laughed. “So now you’re not only a horse whisperer, you speak horse?”
She glanced over at him. His straw hat was pushed up and a strand of blond hair fell over his forehead. It took a real effort not to lift her hand and smooth it back with her fingers. “You speak to horses. Not only do you talk to Angel, but you also talk to the broncs you ride. If you don’t think they understand you, why waste your time?”
“Thinking they understand you is one thing. Thinking you understand them is another.”
“You seem to understand Angel. You’ve worked miracles with him in the last week. He’s ready for the saddle.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I guess he told you that right after he told you he had a thing for Doris.”
“Get a saddle and I’ll show you.”
“I’ll get a saddle, but you’re not riding Angel. Not with a busted collarbone. You probably shouldn’t be riding Cookie either.”
Riding had become a daily ritual. Sawyer would arrive at Maisy’s trailer every morning with Doris and Cookie. She’d make him breakfast and he’d do the dishes before they headed out. Sometimes they’d ride to the Double Diamond ranch and sometimes they’d head over to the Gardener ranch. Sometimes they’d talk while they rode and sometimes they’d say nothing. Maisy liked one just as much as the other.
When they did talk, she steered the conversation away from the topic of their tequila night and babies. She had done more research on chronic traumatic encephalopathy and decided Dixie was right. Sawyer’s life was more important than her guilt. She wanted him to grow old with his mind intact. And if the truth ever came out and he hated her, she’d just have to live with that.
It would be hard though. The more time they spent together, the more she liked Sawyer. Before she had just been infatuated with the sexy rodeo cowboy. Now she was infatuated with the man beneath.
Sawyer headed into the barn, and she followed. “My collarbone is just fine,” she said. “I’m not even wearing my sling any more.”
“You should be.” He disappeared into the tack room. She opened her mouth to continue to argue when a ping drew her attention to the cellphone sitting on a hay bale. In the last week, she’d noticed Sawyer got a lot of texts that he didn’t answer. She couldn’t help wondering why. After a quick glance to make sure Sawyer was still in the tack room, she leaned closer to the phone. She wasn’t surprised the text was from a woman. No wonder Sawyer didn’t answer the texts when he was with her. He didn’t want her to know he still had a string of women chasing after him. But here was proof.
Jealousy like she had never felt before consumed her . . . until she read the text.
You don’t have to forgive me, but please forgive your brother. He loves you and is devastated you aren’t coming to the wedding.
Sawyer walked back out of the tack room with a saddle and headed for the door. “Let’s see if you do speak horse.”
“You got a text,” she said.
“I’ll answer it later.”
She should’ve let it go, but she had never been good at letting things go. “Why would Lauren think you aren’t going to your brother’s wedding?”
He froze and turned around. “So you’re not only an eavesdropper, but you also read other people’s texts.”
“I was sitting right here when your phone pinged. It was kind of hard not to look. You’re going to the wedding, right? I mean you can’t not go to your own brother’s wedding.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it, Maze. Now are you going to sing so I can get Angel saddled or not?”
She stared at him. “All the texts you’ve been getting are from your brother, aren’t they? He’s been begging you to come and you’ve been ignoring him.”
“I have a good excuse for not going.”
She shook her head. “Oh, no, you aren’t using me as excuse to skip your brother’s wedding. Me . . . possibly being pregnant is a crappy excuse and your family will know it.”
Sawyer face got that stubborn look she was starting to recognize. “Then I’ll think of another excuse.” He turned, but then froze again. “I wonder who that is?”
Maisy walked over and looked out the door. A brand new gray Dodge truck was coming up the dirt driveway. Behind it was a horse trailer. An empty horse trailer. Suddenly Maisy got a very bad feeling.
“It’s Angel’s owner.”
Sawyer turned to her. “What?”
“Someone in town must’ve tipped him off for the reward.”
“The reward? What reward?”
She grabbed his arm. “The owner put up flyers in town offering a reward for information about Angel. I thought I got them all down, but I must’ve missed one.”
Sawyer stared at her. “You ripped down the flyers?”
“Yes. I don’t want Angel going back to an abusive asshole.”
“Jesus, Maze. We can’t keep a horse that isn’t ours.”
“So you’re just going to let them take him? We both know what will happen to him if he goes back there.”
“We don’t have a choice. There is no way to prove that whoever this is abused him.” He set down the saddle as the trucked pulled to a stop in front of the house. “If this turns out to be his owner, we have to let Angel go.”
Maisy held onto his arm—maybe a little too tightly because he flinched. “No, Sawyer. Please. Let’s just let Chester run him off. He won’t let them take Angel without a fight.”
He sighed and closed his eyes. “I don’t like it any better than you do. But if Chester runs him off, he’ll just come back with the law. And I won’t have Chester and Lucas arrested as horse thieves.”
She knew he was right, but it wasn’t easy letting go of Sawyer’s arm.
“I’m sorry, Maze,” he said before turned and headed out of the barn. The sad part of her wanted to hide in the barn until Angel was gone, but the angry part wanted to confront the jerk who had abused the horse. The angry part won out and she followed Sawyer. A man got out of the truck. He wore a ridiculous ten-gallon hat that was almost as big as he was. He leaned down to adjust it in the truck’s side mirror.
“What a pompous ass,” Maisy said under her breath.
Sawyer shot her a warning look. “Keep your temper in check, Maisy. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” He pinned on a smile and lifted a hand. “Good mornin’.”
The man stopped preening and straightened. “Good morning.”
Sawyer held out his hand. “Sawyer Dawson.”
The man shook it. “Daryl Bradley.” He held a hand out to Maisy, but she ignored it.
“This is Maisy Sweeney,” Sawyer said. “She busted up her collarbone so she can’t shake hands. What can I do for you, Daryl?”
Daryl started to speak, but then his attention was pulled to the house. “Does that man have a gun pointed at me?”
Maisy glanced at the house and saw Chester standing in the window with his
shotgun pointed right at the man. She laughed and Sawyer sent her another warning look before he spoke. “That’s just my senile grandpa. He’s harmless. So what brings you to the Double Diamond?”
“I think you have my horse. Black Beauty.” Maisy rolled her eyes at the unoriginal name. “At least that’s what animal control told me.” So it hadn’t been someone in town who ratted them out.
Sawyer went to say something, but Maisy cut him off. “Exactly what does Black Beauty look like?”
“He’s a big black stallion.”
“Does he have any other distinguishing marks? Like maybe crop mar—”
Sawyer interrupted. “Why I think we do have your horse, Daryl. We found him on a road not too far from here scared out of his wits. Maisy, honey, why don’t you go on in and get Mr. Bradley something to drink while I take him over to the paddock.”
She knew what he was doing and she wasn’t going anywhere. She might have to give Angel back, but she was going to make sure Daryl knew where she stood on animal abuse.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “But we’re all out of drinks.”
Sawyer narrowed his eyes at her and she narrowed hers right back. Daryl looked between them like he didn’t know what was going on. Sawyer finally gave in and sighed.
“You’ll have to excuse Maisy. She’s gotten kind of attached to . . . Black Beauty. You know how sentimental women can get over animals.”
Daryl nodded as he pulled a perfectly folded bandana out of his back pocket and leaned over to wipe a speck of dust off his high-polished boots. “I know exactly what you mean. My wife is begging for one of those little lap dogs, but I refuse to let her get one. I’m not having my orderly life messed up with hair all over the house and a dog that yaps every time someone rings the doorbell.”
Maisy now understood why Angel had been beaten. The horse hadn’t fit into this uptight jerk’s vision of an orderly life. She knew Sawyer had been thinking the same thing when he spoke.
“What made you decide to become a horse owner, Daryl? Horses can be kinda messy.”
“I’ve always wanted a ranch. And when my stock investment app took off, I decided to buy one. A place I can chill out with my friends on the weekends. And I can’t really call it a ranch if it doesn’t have horses, now can I?” He flashed an arrogant smile Maisy wanted to wipe off his face with her fist.