Chapter Two
After breakfast the next morning, Dakota watched Tamara move out to the front porch with a cup of coffee. The time she’d spent in town seemed to have calmed her after the previous day’s drama. He filled a mug and joined her. The mountain views from the main house were spectacular. There wasn’t a better setting for a nice chat.
It had become a daily ritual for the two of them to sit together and talk over coffee since he’d moved to the ranch. Each day brought them closer together as they opened up and shared more of their lives.
He watched her through the screen door for a moment before making his presence known. She kept fidgeting, unable to sit still and enjoy the peaceful morning. He’d noticed before how antsy she got when alone, and wanted to find out why.
Dakota was moving a bit slow. His hip was sore from performing dressage training with a particularly stubborn horse the day before. He kept the injury a secret for the most part, not wanting the others to treat him differently or question his capability due to the physical deficiency. It was also a matter of his pride, and rivalry with the cowboys. Only the ranch owners, and Steph since she’d been there during his interview, were aware of his limitations.
“It’s a beautiful morning.”
“A little too quiet for me. I prefer when the boys are working around the yard.” She gave him a quizzical glance. “Why are you limping today?”
Dakota brushed the question off without giving specifics. “It’s nothing. My muscles are kind of sore.” He’d rather get her talking about herself than discuss his injury.
When he sat down they were close together, but with a small gap between their bodies. He figured it must be adequate personal space for her since she didn’t tense up.
“Quiet mornings like this always remind me of my grandmother. She enjoyed watching the sunrise and a new day begin. Since I was an early riser, it became our special time. We didn’t talk. Just sat and watched the world wake up.”
“Sounds boring.”
“It was relaxing—a way to center myself, but what I really enjoyed was being with my family. We are very close and there’s always someone around to pass the time with. Brothers and sisters, cousins, nieces and nephews. Many of them still keep their families together. I’m one of the few who has wandered away in search of my future.”
She seemed to contemplate what having a big family would be like. Dakota had told her stories of growing up with a large family. He hoped it was getting easier for Tamara to understand the companionship since it was essential to him. He was sure she didn’t realize it wasn’t that different from what she had with her ranch family.
“I had two worlds to explore—the reservation and the city. My parents made sure I learned the ways of both cultures. There were quiet times alone, and playful times filled with love. I hope to give my own kids a similar childhood.”
He searched for a way to keep Tamara at ease and draw her out. Tales of childhood dreams and discoveries brought a wistful expression to her face.
“I bet you shared a similar experience with your foster families, Tamara.”
The lack of humor in her laughter made Dakota’s heart ache for his princess. He knew her life had been hard. If she’d talk to him, perhaps he’d be able to ease some of her hurt.
“You didn’t share quiet times together?”
“Nah. Usually wasn’t around long enough to get close to anyone. Moved from one foster home to another. Only ever had myself. Before I was even a teenager, I learned the harsh realities of life and how to take care of myself.”
Ah. The information brought some of her personality into perspective, but he needed to keep her talking.
“You were so young. How did you take care of yourself? Isn’t that what the foster parents were there for?”
She stared off into the distance and seemed to travel back in time.
“Not all foster families are good, although I did live with some nice people. Some are in it for the check they get from the state each month. I learned to use my wits to fend off those with a size and strength advantage. When wielded with care and skill, sex could be used to obtain what you needed. Essentials like protection, security, food and a good night’s sleep.”
His heart broke for what she’d gone through as a child. Hardship and pain had shaped the woman she was today. No child should have to use her body to obtain the basic comforts. He asked a general question to keep her talking. “A good night’s sleep?”
“Yeah, sleep. I didn’t get a lot of that after I moved in with the Rubins when I was twelve. Stayed with them until I was finally able to take off by myself. The parents were alcoholics, the foster kids their own personal slaves. We worked the kennels where they bred vile dogs.” Tamara shivered, and he moved closer.
“I was terrified of those snarling, drooling beasts, but found out there are far worse things in life. Like the Rubin’s son, Steve. He was one sick bastard.”
“What was so bad about Steve?”
For several heartbeats she remained quiet. He knew she didn’t talk about the past often, and he had to tread carefully. If he pushed too hard, she’d clam up. It was best to let her tell the story at her own pace so he waited her out.
“Steve was the enforcer who kept the foster kids towing the line by using terror, physical threat and cruel pranks. He’s the kind of kid who grows up to be a serial rapist and killer. The bastard enjoyed catching and torturing small animals, then he’d intimidate the rest of us with them. Learned the hard way to check my bed before sliding beneath the covers, and to examine my shoes before putting them on. Nothing worse than bare feet hitting sticky blood and guts. If Steve thought you had not done enough work, or if you stood up to his bullying, some poor creature paid the price.
“His dad was even worse. In the middle of the night, when it was nice and quiet, Aaron Rubin would stumble drunkenly into my bedroom. I wasn’t strong enough to fight him off.” She wrapped her arms around her slender body.
“The horrible stench of alcohol on his breath turned my stomach and I had to struggle to keep my dinner down as his dirty hands pulled at my skin.”
She stopped talking again, lost in thought. The reality of her childhood was worse than he’d anticipated. That she’d survived was a testament to her strength and will, but she hadn’t escaped without scars.
“Aaron’s wife didn’t stop him?”
“Gail was passed out long before he came to me. Steve caught him one night, dragged the bastard off. I foolishly hoped it was over, but Steve came back to finish what his father had started. He threatened me with horrific punishments to keep me from telling my social worker.”
His heart ached for the girl who had suffered so much. Tamara seemed to realize how much she’d revealed and suddenly jumped up from the swing, shutting him out.
“Fucking hell! I don’t want to talk about the past. It’s best left forgotten.” She got up and stalked away, clearly upset by her memories.
Tamara pulled herself together. She was way out of her element with Dakota. All her life lessons in dealing with men went right out the window whenever he was near. A frightening prospect indeed. She’d have to be careful in his presence. His calm voice and soothing tone lulled her into a false sense of security.
What the hell was drawing her to him? She didn’t understand. They were poles apart and needed different things. He thrived on sharing emotions and required a sense of community which, in her mind, restricted freedom, tying a person irrevocably to others.
Dakota was into the whole one-man-one-woman, happily-ever-after scenario. She knew fairytale bullshit like that wasn’t possible. None of it jibed with her, yet there was this unseen factor pulling her to him. Like an adrenaline junky drawn to the next life-threatening thrill.
Tamara wouldn’t run. She hated to be alone. Plus she had to be at the ranch to work with Steph and Jesse on designing a website for Paperback Roundup. For the time being, though, she put some distance between herself and Dakota, leaving hi
m to his work and diving into her own.
??
Later that day, warm afternoon sunshine shed new light on his work. Dakota stood by the fence, an unobtrusive presence observing the energetic play of a filly as she pranced around the corral. It had not been a full week since his arrival at the ranch, yet each day the tan Buckskin moved further into season. The signs were all there. It was time to test Honey’s receptiveness to being mated.
Her coloring was exceptional, showing all the classic Dun markings of the breed. She even had a dark brown dorsal strip running the length of her spine. These markings, accompanied by her dark mane, tail, forelegs and tipped ears made Honey a beautiful specimen.
She was to be mated with Rowdy, a red Dun stallion. With his reddish-tan coat and shaded markings similar to Honey’s, the paring had the potential to produce a gorgeous foal. Buckskins were known for their endurance, stamina, versatile nature, disposition and beautiful color. The strength and tenacity of the breed, relative to its size, made it popular for rodeo work and cattle ranching.
This particular foal, if the mating was successful, would be headed to the rodeo. The buyer who had commissioned the mating was purchasing the animal in anticipation of his son following in his footsteps on the circuit.
While Dakota appreciated the hard work and sportsmanship of the rodeo as well as the next person, he hated the way it consumed a man’s soul. Having witnessed the shattered lives of those who went down the path, he knew firsthand about the heartbreak of the rodeo. More than a few who participated were possessed by the call of the wild competition and potential for fame and glory. In reality, very few made it to the top rankings.
What he despised most was the way competitors left their families behind to follow the circuit and how it controlled their very existence. It was a difficult life filled with the pain of broken bones, hearts shred to pieces, and shattered lives. However, it wasn’t his plight to worry about. His job was to ensure a successful mating, the safety of the horses, and delivery of a champion quality foal.
“Good morning.”
He felt Steph’s quiet presence before seeing her approach the corral fence where he stood. Cord Black’s younger sister presented a soft, quiet appearance to the world. For the most part this was an accurate view of the beautiful woman, but not the complete picture. Beneath the exterior lurked the spirit of an adventurer.
Dakota could easily picture the curvy woman getting into a lot of trouble exploring the world when she was a child. If one looked close enough into the depths of those blue-gray eyes, it was possible to catch a glimpse of the precocious girl anxious for the next marvelous escapade.
An immediate kinship had developed between them. Dakota had been happy to find talking things out with Stephanie and answering her questions often helped him to decide on the best course of action. He welcomed a conversation with the inquisitive beauty as enthusiastically as he welcomed the rising sun beginning each new day. Her spirit was gentle and life-affirming, like the first dazzling morning rays to kiss the land.
“Good morning,” Steph said in her shy tone. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”
With a genuine smile lighting his face, Dakota turned to her, opening his arms. “Not at all, sunshine.” They shared a brief embrace before returning their attention to the horse. “I do believe Honey,” he said, nodding toward the mare, “is almost ready to be mated.”
Glancing over at Steph, he basked in the changes overtaking her sweet face. Here was something new to discover. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence, and he saw the gears turning as she formed her first questions.
“How does the horse reveal that it’s time?”
Leaning his forearms on the rail, Dakota began to explain the mating process and observable signs to know when the time was right for the animal. As he spoke, Brock appeared from the stable leading Rowdy. Following Dakota’s prior instructions, Brock walked the horse in a path around the corral, while still keeping some distance from the fence.
It didn’t take long for Honey to pick up the stallion’s scent, and vice versa. The golden filly stopped her prancing and sniffed the air.
“See how, without hesitation, Honey raises her tail, holding it to the left, in a classic mating posture? She’s letting Rowdy know she’s ready,” Dakota pointed out. “Think of it as similar to when a woman swings her head, flipping her hair to draw a man’s attention.”
From watching Rowdy, it was clear the big stallion was putting Brock through the paces, yet the cowboy’s calm, casual appearance did not reflect the fact the horse was testing his mettle. Brock kept Rowdy under control and walking at the pace he set as they made a wide loop around the corral.
“Brock has his work cut out for him in keeping Rowdy under control. The stallion has a one-track mind right now, and it’s focused on getting to the female. You can also tell the female’s attention is on attracting the big stud.”
Honey’s gaze followed the other horse’s slow progress, itching to get closer to Rowdy. The whole time, Dakota kept up a running dialogue with Steph, explaining what was happening.
“In essence, the horses are flirting with each other, letting it be known they are receptive to the pairing.” While talking, he took in everything happening around them.
“What happens next?” Steph asked, excitement dripping from her voice.
As Brock and Rowdy passed behind them, Dakota called out instructions for Brock to walk the stallion around the corral one more lap, then stop when he again reached where they stood.
“Next we bring them closer together. Give them a little time to communicate.” Dakota gave Steph instructions to keep her safe when the horses were brought together. Even though Rowdy had a calm disposition, it was difficult to predict if the cowboys would be able to keep control of him when he got close to a receptive female. “I want you to move away from the fence, nice and slow. Step back toward the road, giving me at least fifty feet to work so I don’t have to worry about you.”
The animals called to each other as Brock walked the stallion around the corral for the second time. Dakota watched to make sure Steph followed his directives as Brock and Rowdy approached the spot where Dakota stood at the fence.
“This is Honey’s first time going into season and her first mating experience,” he said, speaking louder now. “She’s showing an appropriate level of excitement and skittishness at the same time.” He kept a close eye on both the animals and his assistant. “Rowdy, on the other hand, is well accustomed to the process.”
The stallion was ready to mate—his member extended hard and long from his body, ball sac drawn tight and close. Brock kept rigid control over the big animal to make sure things did not turn ugly, and Rowdy acted like a gentlemen.
“Notice the care Rowdy takes when coming close,” Dakota commented. The wise stallion approached the fence with an air of ease and confidence, assessing the signs of Honey’s acceptance. His heavy hooves dug into the soft earth in his barely leashed excitement to join with the filly. As he reached the fence, the two animals began to sniff and nuzzle each other.
Dakota kept a close watch on both animals, along with a constant stream of dialogue for both Brock and Steph, delivered in a soothing monotone. “Honey is now flashing her vulva repeatedly, squirting copious fluids, and holding a mating stance. It’s important to make sure all the signs are present, and are clearly noticeable.
“Honey is ready, and appears to be receptive to the idea of allowing Rowdy to mount her. It’s time for final preparations.” Dakota nodded toward Brock. “Let’s move to the next stage.”
Steph stayed at the edge of the road where she was out of the way and safe from harm. As the cowboy led the stallion back into the stables, Dakota moved into the corral with Honey. He continued to talk in soothing tones to the big animal while attaching a lead to her halter. “I’ll spend a few minutes walking her around the corral now. This will give Brock time to get Rowdy settled into his stall.”
When Zeke appeared to signa
l him, Dakota led Honey into the opposite end of the stable from where Rowdy had entered. Both horses would now go through last minute preparations. When he moved back over to the corral, he explained the process to Steph, speaking loud enough for her to hear him from where she stood.
“Each animal’s genitals are being washed with warm water in an attempt to minimize the insertion of dirt and dead skin during the mating. Honey’s tail will be wrapped tight in plastic and secured to prevent it from getting in the way.”
“Why can’t the horses just be put in the corral and let nature take its course?” Steph asked.
“There are many things that can go wrong during natural mating. The filly may become fickle and decide she in fact does not like the stallion—regardless that she is in full heat. The stallion can become nasty or aggressive and scratch up the mare’s back. Brock will remain in control, handling Rowdy, and insuring the randy stud does not cause any injuries. Zeke will help Honey through the mating.”
Nicole Austin Page 4