Kissed by a Cowboy

by Debra Clopton

  The feed store was a dusty, musty old building with stacks of feed lining one wall and all kinds of items anyone might need to run a farm or ranch. Her nose twitched as she entered and she fought off a sneeze.

  To her surprise Doc was there with Clover on a leash. She also saw Doobie and Doonie.

  Arthur McEroy owned the place and had been in business for years. There was a coffee bar over in the corner with a brew so strong it would curl hair on a pig. She’d made the mistake of accepting a cup last time she came in and would never do that again.

  The men all liked to gather there, and various groups came and went during the day. So she shouldn’t have been surprised to see these three.

  “Hi, boys. What are y’all doing today?” Clover came prancing to the end of her leash to rub against Cassidy’s leg like a cat. She laughed and gave the animal a back rub. The pig grunted when she tried to stop and bumped her leg with her rump, code for “More, please.” Her little curly tail wagged, and she looked up at Cassidy to give her what Cassidy still could swear was a grin. She really was a cute pig. And to think, Roxie had given it to Doc . . . that still baffled her. But then, Aunt Roxie had had that knack of giving people what they needed.

  Roxie.

  Like she’d known she would need her home and the land, and she’d known she would need it protected by putting it in trust for Cassidy so it couldn’t be sold off as Jack had so wanted to do when she’d first inherited it.

  She looked up from petting the pig and realized no one had answered her question. They were all watching her. “Um, what’s up, fellas?”

  “Oh, I’m here getting Clover her supplements and feed,” Doc said with a grunt, then jerked a thumb at the twins. “These two here, who knows? They just follow me around sometimes.”

  “Nothing else to do on a slow afternoon,” one of the twins said.

  The other one added, “We were just discussing the Thanksgiving in July celebration.” He and his brother grinned that wide, lopsided smile.

  “It was a grand celebration. So what are you up to, little lady?” Arthur asked, then took a swig of coffee.

  “I need an almanac, I think. I was going through Aunt Roxie’s books and she has a lot of them, so I’m pretty sure she must have planted her garden accordingly.”

  “Yup, she bought one every year,” he said while walking slowly over to a stack of books sitting on a dusty shelf. “You can’t go wrong using this. Old-timers stand by it.” He spat a stream of tobacco into a spittoon and Cassidy cringed. He’d aimed at it like it was a bull’s-eye on a target. “The gravitational pull of the moon is a strong factor in almost everything, especially a garden.”

  Doc chuckled. “Works pretty good holding the earth in orbit too.”

  “I hear it works pretty good on romance too,” a twin said, his eyes twinkling. “Ain’t that right, Doonie?”

  The striped golf shirt was Doonie, she noted.

  “That’s what I hear. You and Jarrod looked real cozy at the dance last week. What’s all this I’m hearing about you two?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked. She followed their gazes, which were locked on the front window. Jarrod was getting out of his truck.

  “Heard he’s sweet on you,” Doobie said.

  “F-from who?”

  The four men all grinned.

  “You’re turning pinker than Clover’s snout,” Doc observed, his normally grouchy expression one of suppressed mirth.

  Could he have spread that rumor?

  “We saw you two dancin’ at the celebration.” Doc chuckled.

  Oh, right. Before she could say anything, Jarrod gave Duce a little love and then strode through the door. Cassidy forced away the warm feeling that gave her. She would not soften. The more she’d thought about it, the more obvious it was that he used her love of horses to try to sway her.

  And he’d told her he loved her. That alone had her feeling unsteady.

  When Jarrod saw her he stopped beside the horse tackle and stared. She suddenly felt like she was a glass of water and he was a cowboy coming in off a long dusty cattle drive, dying of thirst. It was ridiculous. She shook herself and stiffened her resolve.

  “Cass,” he drawled. “May I say you are looking lovely today?”

  She narrowed her gaze and he grinned, and she heard snorts from the twins. The man was confirming the rumors to these old coots and she was going to have to try to live it down.

  She ignored him and spun toward the counter. “How much do I owe you for the almanac, please?” It took extreme effort to hold her voice steady.

  Arthur grinned. “The moon’s on the increase, you know.”

  “Sure is,” one of the twins said. Doonie, she thought, shooting him a warning glare. When his brother chuckled, she shot him the same warning.

  Arthur grinned wider. “You believe in the almanac, Jarrod?”

  Jarrod laughed. “You fellas must have talked to my grandmother.”

  Cassidy gasped. “Do not egg them on. The almanac is all about gardening and you know it.”

  “Oh, that’s what we’re talking about,” a twin said.

  She knew good and well that they were talking about romance. Or was she being too sensitive?

  “What are you talking about, Cassidy?” Doc patted Clover on the snout.

  “Uh, nothing. I just need my almanac, please.” She forced a smile at Arthur and tapped her toe on the cement floor, wanting nothing but to escape.

  Arthur rattled off a price, then fiddled with the old cash register, taking his time as he counted out her change. As soon as he handed it to her, she picked up her book. “Y’all have a nice day,” she said stiffly. Clover pranced beside her on the way to the door. Duce stuck his head inside and barked at the pig.

  She halted. “Stay, Clover,” she commanded, but the pig butted her in the knees with her hip and pranced around her like she was trying to keep Cassidy in this impossible situation.

  Duce came inside wiggling all over as he came toward the pig. He barked again, which was not like him. Clover jumped and started squealing like someone was twisting her tail. She charged back to Doc.

  Cassidy felt bad for scaring the poor pig. But she didn’t slow down as she walked from the building.

  Frustration had her hands shaking. She yanked open her truck door and let Duce jump into the seat. She followed and was pulling out of the parking space when Jarrod walked out of the feed store. She saw him tip his hat at her and watch her as she left. The man had turned her life upside down.

  As Jarrod drove away from the feed store, he reflected on the last week. He was worn out and not gaining ground on the disappearing cattle. He’d been on stakeout at various parts of the ranch, but nothing happened. He’d gathered film from all of his cameras set up in different areas, and all was quiet there too.

  And the problem with long nights with nothing to do but sit in his truck and watch his cattle or ride camp out on a high hill was that it gave him plenty of time to think about Cassidy.

  She had been avoiding him and he’d been giving her space. Then when he finally saw her he acted like an oaf. He watched her leaving the feed store and wanted to kick himself. He was driving back through town on the way home, wondering what to do, when he spotted Rand walking toward the Sweet Dreams Motel, carrying a small bouquet of flowers. It seemed Rand was courting Pebble.

  That made Jarrod smile. He hoped the older man was having better luck than he was. Pulling out his cell phone, Jarrod took his lead from Rand and called the florist.

  The day after the feed store fiasco—something Cassidy had replayed in her mind and eventually in her dreams through the entire night—she was in the lambs’ pen playing with the pair of darlings, hoping they could bring her blood pressure down. It wasn’t really working, though. She was confused and baffled as she thought about the entire experience.

  She did have this thought about all the high-voltage anger and determination she was feeling toward Jarrod. Perhaps in her heart of hearts she want
ed to throw caution to the wind and run carelessly, foolishly, recklessly into his arms, laughing in the face of all the heartache she’d gone through. Perhaps she just wanted to believe that life with Jarrod could be the fairy tale she’d once believed it could be . . . or at least some semblance of it!

  Cassidy hugged Petunia, buried her face in the sweet lamb’s soft coat, and wished just once in her life things would go easily. She just wanted a simple, uncomplicated life with a B and B, a strawberry farm, a garden, and a peach orchard. She did not want a handsome neighbor constantly reminding her of the things she’d decided she did not want in her life.

  And causing silly, ridiculous scenes like what happened at the feed store.

  She looked up at the sound of a car. A van with Blooms Galore and a large phone number scrawled across it was pulling up the driveway. Cassidy moved Petunia and Percy off her lap and stood. She recognized the petite woman hurrying across the yard carrying a vase of yellow roses as a member of the city council, Betty Brisco.

  “Cassidy, you will probably be the envy of half of four counties when word gets out that you received two dozen roses from Jarrod Monahan. That, and having danced the night away with him on the Fourth of July.”

  Cassidy walked from the lamb pen, holding her mouth clamped shut or else it would have been dragging in the dirt. The flowers were perfect and beautiful. The lady held them out to her and in automatic response she took them.

  “But I don’t understand,” she said, too stunned to form coherent words.

  “What’s not to understand? Your dream-boat neighbor is sweet on you. Enjoy! I’ve got to run—more deliveries to make.”

  With that the florist hopped into her van and drove off with a wave out the window.

  Cassidy stared at the flowers, totally stunned.

  Jarrod was in the corral working with a fairly rebellious colt. Despite their time together, the horse was still nervous and unpredictable. But Jarrod was about to ride him for the first time and hoped he didn’t get himself into a wreck saddle breaking him. Tru was the champion trainer, the best at what he did, having taken after Pops.

  But Jarrod had never been interested in competition or showing. His goal wasn’t a horse that would win a competition but a horse that was useful on the ranch. One he could sell to the other ranches to work their cattle. He loved being in the saddle, loved the feel of knowing he’d given the animal something useful to do with its life.

  There were those who thought all horses should run free and wild, but Jarrod felt like God had made horses specifically with a purpose in mind, and that was to help a cowboy work his ranch. Everyone needed a purpose in life. Not all animals had the mind or the inclination to become useful, but horses? They were beauty in motion, and their minds were quick and loyal. They also seemed to truly enjoy their work. And they enjoyed competition, too, as was evident in the horses Tru trained.

  “Easy, boy,” Jarrod said quietly, slipping his boot into the stirrup as he took hold of the saddle horn. Then in as smooth a motion as possible, he stood up in the stirrup, one boot in and one hanging free. He’d give him a few more moments to get used to the feel of him. The colt jumped to the side a couple of strides but didn’t kick or buck. Jarrod leaned into the horse but continued to stay on only the one side for now.

  The colt was doing great, but Jarrod needed him to acclimate to his weight since this was the first time anyone had ever tried to ride him. If Jarrod did his job correctly, the horse would never do all that wild bronc bucking Hollywood movies loved to depict. Instead, the colt would adjust and learn to trust him. It was all about trust.

  Just like love.

  The sound of a vehicle coming up the drive distracted Jarrod. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Cassidy’s old truck racing up the lane. She only knew one speed coming and going, and it was apparently pedal to the medal. His pulse jumped like the colt, which started hopping sideways at the unexpected sound.

  Jarrod put his attention back on his ride and saw that the colt’s ears were now laid back. Not a good sign.

  “Whoa there, it’s okay. Come on,” Jarrod urged calmly.

  Everything would have been fine if it hadn’t been for the truck’s sudden, loud backfire.

  24

  As she drove up, Cassidy spotted Jarrod preparing to ride the colt. By the way he was standing in one stirrup, she recognized that he was breaking it. It was magic to watch the man gentling a horse. He’d been doing it since before he graduated from high school, and there was just so much beauty in what he did. Yes, Tru and Pops had been the showmen, but Jarrod had his own talent with a horse.

  Her stomach tumbled, from the knowledge that she was about to apologize for being rude at the feed store but also because she was going to tell Jarrod not to send her flowers anymore. Yes, she had been both shocked by and reluctantly pleased about them. But if people were talking before now, as soon as they learned about the flowers there would be no stopping the talk. Jarrod was literally giving them something to talk about.

  When she turned her truck’s engine off, it rattled and then backfired. The boom made her jump, but it was Jarrod and the horse that drew her attention. The colt went from semi-calm to rodeo bronc in a millisecond. Jarrod flew over its head and landed in the dust as the colt jumped and bucked.

  Cassidy’s heart slammed into her throat. She rushed from the truck, scrambled across the expanse separating them, and climbed the railing. “Jarrod!”

  He was on his knees, shaking his head as if dazed. Then the hoof of the horse slammed into his shoulder, just barely missing his head.

  Cassidy didn’t think twice. She swung her legs over the fence and jumped.

  She landed in the soft earth at a run, waving her arms and yelling. She didn’t hesitate, she didn’t think; she just ran with force. The horse bolted to the far side of the arena when it saw the crazy woman flying toward it like a banshee.

  Cassidy jumped between the colt and Jarrod. Making a barrier, she planted her feet about the time the horse rounded on her and rose up on its two back legs to paw the air.

  Cassidy’s heart thundered. She didn’t have a clue what to do in this situation.

  “Get out of here, Cass,” Jarrod said from between gritted teeth behind her.

  “Are you kidding me? That horse almost killed you.” She glanced over her shoulder to see his shirt was ripped open and a long gash on his shoulder was bleeding. This is my fault.

  Jarrod tried to stagger to his feet. Lunging at her, he grabbed her around the waist like he’d done when he’d saved her from the rattlesnake, only this time he was unsteady and nearly took her down. The horse bolted toward them, angrily snorting. Cassidy didn’t think. She just reacted, needing to get Jarrod out of the line of those hooves. She grabbed him around the waist to help him stand. Blood smeared on her shoulder.

  They staggered to the side, and with all the strength she had she tried to keep them both upright as they moved toward the fence. The colt was pawing the ground and its nostrils were flared. Its ears were flat to its head and its dark eyes looked frighteningly wild.

  “What’s wrong with that horse?”

  “Just scared,” Jarrod said through clenched teeth as he reached for the chain that held the gate closed. “It’s what people and horses do to protect themselves when they’re scared of something. Keep going,” he urged. She did as he said, keeping her arm firmly around his taunt waist. The man’s middle was hard as rock. When they were both through the gate, he hooked the chain back into the slot, securing it. Putting it between them and the wild horse.

  “It’s glaring at us like it would like to kick our skulls in. And it very nearly would have kicked yours if it had been half a foot to the left.”

  “Like I said, he’s scared. A horse’s natural instinct is to run from danger and buck. That’s all the protection God gave them from a cruel world. The backfire made him react by instinct. People do similar things, you know.”

  He was taking up for the horse that almos
t killed him. She tried to ignore the comment about people. “You’re bleeding, bad. I think you could need stitches.”

  “I’m fine. I have an emergency kit and supplies at the barn. It’s in the tack room. Don’t blame the horse. It was my fault. I got distracted.”

  “My fault for my truck blowing up.”

  They made it inside the barn, and he pulled his arm from her shoulders as he grabbed hold of the workbench. He was swaying again, and blood ran down his arm.

  Opening a drawer beside the sink, Jarrod pulled out a rag and covered his gash. He shot her a sideways glance that had her breath catching in her throat.

  Jack had that flirtatious look and he’d given it freely.

  Jarrod isn’t Jack.

  Her pulse rattled through her like a train on shaky tracks. It blasted through her as if it were on a collision course with disaster.

  She wanted to turn away and run. Wanted to get out of there now, as soon as she could. But she was responsible for the hemorrhaging gash in his shoulder. She grabbed an old chair sitting against the wall and carried it to him. “Sit and let me look at this.”

  He sat down without fighting.

  She swallowed hard and reached for the rag, replacing his hand with hers to apply pressure to the wound.

  “I’m thinking stitches. Two at least. Maybe more.”

  “Douse it with alcohol, dry it, then put those butterflies on it. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you joking? It will heal badly.”

  He chuckled. “So you think a scar on my shoulder is something I need to worry about?”

  “Well, I guess that isn’t something a man thinks that much about.”

  “It’s part of the job. Now, if the colt had missed and kicked me in the face we might be talking about something different.”

  “Which very nearly happened.” She wanted to lose her cream cheese bagel thinking how close that horse hoof had come to his temple. And all because of her cantankerous truck. “My need of a tune-up could have harmed you greatly.”