Cowboy's Bride

by Barbara McMahon

Becky looked at her for a moment. "I guess not. Which one did you ride before?''

  "A brown one."

  Becky rolled her eyes and looked at the horses milling around. "Most of them are brown. Did you ride Stony or Billy or Roman?"

  "I don't know. Whatever one your father saddled for me." Kalli came to study the horses, trying to remember which one she'd ridden before. They all looked alike to her--big.

  "Then we'll take Stony," Becky announced, climbing the fence. In only a few minutes, she had the horse tied to the top rail and was bringing out a saddle, blanket and bridle.

  "I can help," Kalli said, reaching for the blanket and the bridle. She already knew the saddle was too heavy. How did Becky manage?

  "Getting on is a problem. How do you mount?" she asked as Becky dumped the saddle beside the horse.

  "I find a fence or stump or something, if I'm away from home. Can you saddle him?"

  "I know how, but the saddle's too heavy."

  "Do what you can and I'll help you lift the saddle," Becky said, stepping back. Her expression was challenging.

  Think I can't do this? Kalli thought as she stepped up to the big horse. Before long she had the bridle on, took the blanket from Becky and flung it in place.

  "How do you manage to saddle your horse?" Kalli asked as she struggled with the heavy Western saddle. She remembered her uncle had always taken care of that when she visited.

  "Dad built me a platform. I cross tie the horse beside it to groom him and tack him up. Here, you'll never get it on that way." Becky helped her swing the heavy saddle onto the horse's back. Once it was in place, the horse shied away.

  Reaching beneath him, Kalli drew up the cinch, began tightening it. The horse blew from his nostrils, sidestepped again, dancing nervously in the dusty corral.

  Persevering, Kalli cinched it tight, flipped down the stirrups.

  "Climb on the rails and step into the saddle," Becky suggested, squirming through the rails and going to her horse, watching Kalli as she walked.

  Kalli tried to bring Stony near the rail, but he was skittish, sidestepping, dancing, moving. Finally he was close enough. She climbed the wooden fence, stepped into the stirrup and swung her leg over quickly before he could move away.

  Scarcely had her bottom touched the saddle before the horse exploded. He threw up his hind legs, humped his back and jerked around. Head lowered, he bucked again and again. Kalli felt herself leave the saddle, slam down hard on her bottom.

  The second time she attempted to sit the horse, he moved from beneath her. One minute she was on him, the next she was floating through the air. Her foot caught in the stirrup and held. She came down on her shoulder, feeling the twisting in her ankle before the horse jumped to the side, dislodging her boot before she could be dragged across the soft, dry dirt. Her hip hit hard. Stunned by the unexpectedness of it all, Kalli lay still, trying to catch her breath, trying to determine if she'd broken anything.

  She'd heard Becky's laughter when she first mounted the horse. Now there was only silence.

  "Kalli?" Becky came flying through the fence and over to her. "Kalli? Are you dead?" Her voice was scared.

  Kalli opened her eyes and looked at the girl. "No. I'm not dead."

  But by tomorrow she'd probably wish she was. She felt as if she was one gigantic bruise already. Gingerly she moved, tried to sit up. "I don't even think I broke anything. What happened?" She leaned toward her right hip, easing the pain in her left one. Her left shoulder was throbbing, her whole body tightened and began to ache. Looking around, she saw the other horses mildly watching her. Her hat was several feet away. She rolled to her knees and tried to stand.

  "Ow!" Sinking back into the dirt, she clutched her left ankle. She had definitely twisted it. Glancing around, she saw Stony standing several yards away, still nervous, his eyes on her, blowing hard.

  "Stony bucked and you came flying off," Becky said, sitting back and watching Kalli worriedly. "Are you all right?"

  "Shouldn't you get the horse? I don't want him bucking his way back over here," Kalli said, her wary gaze never leaving Stony.

  Becky walked up to the skittish horse and grabbed his reins. In only moments she had him unsaddled and turned him free. She put the equipment away, casting worried glances at Kalli all the while.

  "Can you get to the house? Should I ride for my dad?" she asked when she came back.

  Kalli almost groaned. The last thing she needed was for Trace to find her here in the dirt. She had not managed on her own after all. He thought so poorly of her ranching abilities, this would only confirm his bad opinion.

  "No, don't tell your father. If you could help me up, I can hop to the house." She got on her knees again, careful of her injured foot. She stood on her good leg, using Becky as a support. Slowly they made their way to the gate, through it and to the house. Every hop jarred her shoulder, her hipr. Her entire left side felt on fire. Her head began to pound and her foot felt as if it was being hit by a hammer with each jolting step.

  "Horses buck sometimes, you know," Becky said as she helped Kalli. "You have to watch for that and be ready. I never get bucked off," she said proudly. "Neither does my dad."

  "Well, bully for both of you. I'm still new at this."

  "You don't belong here. I heard my dad saying that. You should go home. This just shows you can't be a rancher. Ranchers never get bucked off," Becky said.

  Kalli wasn't going to argue with her. At this moment, she wasn't too sure Becky wasn't right.

  They made it as far as the kitchen table, where Kalli pulled out a chair and sank down, her shoulder throbbing, her ankle white-hot agony, her hip aching. God, she was a mess. Would a warm bath help? Then ice for the bruises? She wondered if she could even make it as far as her bathroom. How would she ever manage getting into and out of a bath?

  The throaty roar of a pickup truck sounded in the distance, grew louder until it was right outside. Kalli felt her insides tighten. Maybe it would be Charlie. Maybe he could help her into her room.

  "It's Dad," Becky said with a smile. Hurrying from the house, she flew out to meet her father.

  "Dad, you better come see to that city lady. She fell and hurt herself. Probably needs to go into town and see a doctor," Becky said as soon as he drew to a halt.

  "What happened?" Trace forgot his curiosity at Becky's being here at her words. For a moment he felt sick. What had happened to Kalli? Was she all right? Did she really need a doctor?

  "Come see." Becky turned and ran inside, Trace only inches behind her.

  Kalli looked defiant as she sat in the chair, her left leg crossed over her right knee. Her clothes were dusty, there was a smudge on one cheek and her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

  "What did you do to yourself?" he asked as he drew near, leaned over her.

  Blinking her eyes to keep the tears at bay, she tried a smile. "Just took a little tumble off a horse. Nothing a big rodeo star would even notice," she said.

  "Ah, hell, honey. Did you get hurt?"

  She nodded, prepared for his sarcasm, not prepared for his concern. "I think I twisted my ankle." Not to mention her banging her hip, shoulder, and every other part of her that was now starting to ache.

  His hands reached out and felt along the boot, firmly, yet gently. She winced at his touch, catching her breath at the pain that coursed up her leg.

  "It's already swollen. How did it happen?"

  He continued to examine her foot, ankle, leg as she told him about her aborted attempt to ride. When he finished, he looked into her shimmering eyes.

  Trace's heart slammed against his chest. He hurt that she hurt. He wanted to snatch her up and ease the pain away. Shelter her so she never got hurt again. She wasn't any bigger than Becky. She needed to be cared for, cherished. Why was she dang so foolish, insisting on continuing in this quest to own and operate a cattle ranch? Dammit, she was as unsuited for this as he was for a boardroom in Boston.

  "I told her ranchers didn't fall off horses
," Becky said, sidling up to her dad and staring at Kalli.

  "I didn't fall, Stony bucked me off," Kalli clarified.

  "Stony?" Trace asked in disbelief. "He's as gentle as they come."

  "Well, if he's so gentle, I'd like to see some wild stock."

  Gently Trace tugged on her boot. A white-hot lance of pain shot through her leg.

  "Ow! Dammit, Trace, what are you trying to do, rip my foot off?" Tears spilled over and coursed down her dirty cheek. The pain was worse now. What was he, some sort of sadist?

  "Just seeing how bad it is. We'll have to cut off your boot. There's no way we can pull it off if that little tug hurt so bad."

  "Not my new boots," she protested.

  "I'm open for other suggestions," he said as he rose and fetched a knife from the cutlery drawer.

  She watched him approach, then looked sadly at her fancy Western boots. She'd been so excited to buy them.

  So excited she needed boots where she was going. She'd only had them a couple of weeks.

  "I'll buy you another pair," he said sardonically as he knelt beside her. Tossing his hat on the table, he slipped the blade down between her leg and the boot top, cutting the soft leather as if it was butter.

  She gritted her teeth. She knew he was trying to be careful, but it still hurt. Finally the boot was off. Instantly she felt better.

  He rose and picked her up. As he turned to head for her room, he told Becky to fix up an ice pack.

  Shouldering open the door to her room, he noticed she'd made the bed. For a second his eyes met hers and they both remembered that morning.

  Slowly he lowered her to the mattress, taking care to keep her foot from jarring.

  She lay back, moaned slightly and turned toward her right.

  "What else?" he asked.

  "I landed on my shoulder, I guess it's bruised, too." He unbuttoned her shirt and drew it down her arms. The pale skin of her shoulder showed an ugly purple patch larger than his hand.

  Kalli gripped the front of her shirt across her breasts. She looked at her shoulder and frowned. "I'm sure it's just bruised."

  He took her arm, releasing her grip on the material, and rotated it slowly, gently. "How's that?"

  "Just great, Doctor." It pulled a little, but she knew nothing was broken.

  "I may not be a doctor, but I do know a little about injuries people get from being thrown. I probably have more experience at that than most of your Bostonian doctors put together."

  She grinned. "You probably do. First hand, too, I'd bet."

  "You'd win."

  "Here's the ice." Becky stood in the doorway, watching warily.

  Trace stood up and turned to get it. He met her eyes, his own cautious.

  "Are you taking her into town?" she asked her dad.

  "No."

  "But she probably needs to see a doctor. And then she can go home."

  "Home?"

  "She's not a rancher, Dad. You said so, and today proves it. She should just go back to Boston and let you have the ranch."

  Trace smiled and ruffled her hair. "She should, pumpkin, but my bet is she won't."

  "And you'd win," Kalli called, annoyed that even his daughter wanted her gone.

  Becky looked around her father at Kalli, anger and frustration in her expression. "If my dad didn't help you out, you'd be gone in a flash. You don't know nothing about ranching."

  "That’s enough Becky," Trace said sharply. He set the ice pack on the edge of the bed and looked at Kalli. "Where do you keep your nightgowns?"

  "I sleep in T-shirts," she said, remembering that morning. "In the second drawer, on the left." Suddenly the aches and pains fled. She could only watch as Trace opened her bureau drawer. She imagined his eyes on the frilly underwear lying beside the practical cotton T-shirts she'd taken from her brothers.

  He withdrew a navy shirt with Boston Red Sox in big red letters.

  "Whose was this?" It was obviously a man's shirt. Who did she know intimately enough to use his shirt to sleep in? His gut tightened, and his hand fisted around the shirt.

  "That one's my brother Pete's," she said.

  His eyes met hers. And the one this morning?

  As clearly as if he'd said it aloud, she knew what he was asking. Smiling a little, she whispered, "I also have some from my brother Mark."

  He tossed her the shirt, relief spreading through him. "Can you manage by yourself, or do you need help?"

  "I can manage."

  "How about your jeans?"

  Her jeans. How would she get them off without jarring her ankle?

  "Becky, go look in the bathroom for some aspirin. Get her a glass of water, too," Trace ordered.

  When she was gone, he reached out to help Kalli. He unfastened the snap, drew down the zipper. Ignoring the pale pink panties that scarcely covered her, he lifted her hips and eased the denim over them. Settling her back on the bed, he gently peeled the jeans from her, taking care with her injured ankle. Sweat broke out on his forehead with the effort he made to keep his eyes from seeking the dark shadow behind the pale pink lace. Her thighs were slender, shapely, soft. Her foot was small, delicate, like the rest of her, he noted as he eased the socks off. His fingers ached to brush across that satiny skin, to trail up to the apex of her thighs and again fed her deep, fiery heat.

  Kalli clutched the navy T-shirt against her, trying to hide her breasts, feeling disoriented and shaky inside. She knew he was only helping her out, but the touch of his hands against her legs was almost more than she could stand.

  His gaze met hers, held. The fire that had been banked began to build again. He leaned forward slowly and pulled her into a sitting position, his eyes never leaving hers. As if in slow motion, he reached behind her and released her bra. Pulling the T-shirt from her lifeless fingers, he opened her shirt, pulling it and the bra from her. She was so beautiful. Her breasts were firm and plump, crowned with dusty pink nipples that were already tight with promise. She was so slender and soft, like the brush of the sweetest wildflower in spring.

  Trace wanted to touch her, fed the silken texture of her soft skin. Taste the unique flavors of her body. Lose himself in her and forget everything. But now was not the time. Kalli was hurting. And he heard the running water in the bathroom. His daughter would be back in only seconds. Regretfully, he handed Kalli the T-shirt and rose, taking three difficult steps away.

  Kalli also heard the water, knew Becky would be back in an instant. She yanked on the T-shirt, wincing only slightly as her sore shoulder strained against the fabric. Once safely covered, she drew the side of the coverlet over her bare legs. It didn't cover her feet and she stared at her swollen ankle, already twice the size of her other one.

  While Becky folded Kali's clothes and laid them on a nearby chair, Trace found a scarf and bound up her ankle. "That'll have to do until later. We have a complete first-aid kit at home and I'll get an Ace bandage to immobilize your foot. If you're not feeling better in the morning, maybe we'll take a run into town and have it x-rayed."

  "It’s only sprained. It already feels better," Kalli said, settling back against her pillows. She ached from head to foot, and probably would for a couple of days. But she wasn't seriously injured. And was still in charge of her ranch. She hoped Trace understood that.

  "Thank you for all your help," she told them.

  Trace nodded, reluctant to leave. She looked so small, so helpless in the big bed. How would she manage?

  "Trace, before you leave, tell Charlie and Josh, okay? Then they can come check on me," Kalli said.

  Like hell they would. There was no way he was going to let those rough cowboys in to see her in her bed. See her in those soft T-shirts that molded her figure like a second skin. Let them see her silky legs, indecent panties.

  "I'll be back to fix your supper, make sure you are okay for the night."

  "No need. One of the men can see to it."

  "I'll be back!"

  6

  When Kalli awoke, it was
dark. She lay still in the quiet night, loath to move. She ached from head to toe. Her ankle throbbed lightly, enough to let her know it was sore, but not enough to wake her. Her shoulder was tender. She rolled over, stifling a moan. She sat up on the edge of the bed. Slowly she rose, hopped to the bathroom, each step painfully jarring her already hurting body.

  On her way back, the hall light flicked on, then the door to her room which had been left slightly ajar, was pushed open. Trace stood silhouetted in the frame.

  "What are you doing?" he asked, taking in her disheveled appearance, her tousled hair, the T-shirt that fell to her thighs, the swollen ankle she was trying to keep from touching the floor.

  "I needed the bathroom. What are you doing here?" she asked belligerently, holding onto the door jamb to the bath. The best offense, she told herself as she felt a wave of pure pleasure crash over her at the sight of him.

  "Taking care of you." He walked across the room and swept her up into his arms. Turning, he began walking to the bed.

  "I don't want to go back to bed. I've been asleep for hours and I'm hungry," she said, encircling his neck with one arm, trying to maintain some sane distance between them. Which was about as easy as staying on a bucking horse. She was, out of necessity, pressed tight against his chest. The strong arms that held her locked in place were warm beneath her bare legs, through the thin cotton of her shirt. His face was only inches from hers. She could see the small lines radiating from his dark eyes and could smell his tangy scent.

  He hesitated then turned toward the open door. "I'll fix you something to eat."

  "I thought I told you to tell Charlie or Josh about me. Charlie could have brought me something for dinner."

  "I have no intention of letting a bunch of randy cowboys raid your room with you dressed like this," he muttered as they reached the kitchen. She didn't weigh anything. She could stand to gain a few more pounds.

  "I'm the owner here," she said impotently. Randy cowboys? The only one randy around here was her, and only when he was so close. Shyly she let her fingers touch his neck. That's all. Just a touch. But she didn't expect the tingling to spread throughout her body from where her fingertips touched him.