Nicole Austin

by Tamara's Spirit (lit)

  Somehow, Steph managed to escape the other woman’s flailing arms and made it to his side where he lay, writhing in pain. She was the only one, other than the ranch owners, who knew of his injuries.

  “How bad is it?” she questioned, laying a gentle, comforting hand on his arm.

  Dakota couldn’t speak. His jaw was held clenched tight against the pain of what felt like a searing hot poker had taken the place of his leg. As the others gathered around, Steph explained about his synthetic hip. Snatching Tamara’s purse out of her hands, Steph pulled out the cell phone, ready to call for an ambulance.

  His “no” was not much above a raspy whisper. Clearing his throat, Dakota tried again. “No. No ambulance. It’s just dislocated.”

  Brock was the first one to react. “Tell us what to do.” His voice held calm authority, helping center the others.

  Noticing Mandy standing off to the side of the group, he gave the girl a strained smile. There was no way he wanted her to watch this. “Someone take Mandy inside first.”

  Once the girl was gone it took several minutes for him to grit out between his clenched teeth what would need to be done to put his hip back in the socket. Hell, he was an expert at the process. This was the third dislocation since his injury.

  Tamara sat in the dirt, cradling his head in her lap. If he weren’t in so much pain, he would’ve enjoyed the position. In his current state, he took what comfort he was able to gain from her trembling hand stroking through his hair.

  Zeke brought out the first aid kit and injected a pain medication into the opposite hip, then rolled him onto his right side. They waited a few minutes for the medication to begin taking effect before Brock and Jesse moved into place, one man at his knee, the other at his hip. Folding a leather work glove, Dakota put it between his teeth then nodded to signal his readiness. Steph sat before him, nervously squeezing his hands.

  Jesse squatted, straddling Dakota’s leg, wrapping both arms around his thigh above the knee. Brock bent his right knee, placing his lower leg over Dakota’s hip. The small amount of pressure had Dakota biting into the glove to keep from screaming.

  In a coordinated effort, Jesse pulled his leg down while Brock used his body weight to press the hip back into the socket. Dakota felt the tug of Tamara’s hands as they fisted in his hair when he hollered and bit down on the glove. The loud pop of his hip snapping back into place made the two women startle, but allowed him to take a gasping breath past the glove for the first time in countless minutes.

  He was afraid he’d hurt Steph’s hands when he’d squeezed down on them. Tears and dirt streaked her sweet face. He looked up into shocked eyes turned a stunning shade of gray. With a gentle squeeze, he pried his fingers from between hers, and removed the glove from his mouth, taking great gulping breaths of air.

  Immense, wracking sobs shook Tamara’s delicate frame, bouncing his head still resting in her lap. With careful movements he rolled onto his back then hooked a hand behind her neck, pulling her face down to his.

  “It’s okay now, princess,” he breathed against her mouth before capturing her lips with his own. The chaste kiss offered reassurance she needed.

  The other men began to joke and tease, relieved the tension had been lifted. Dakota shook his head upon hearing Riley’s quip. “Damn, never thought about hurting myself to catch the ladies’ attention.”

  The others all laughed along and teased as their kiss turned into a frantic affirmation of well-being. Tamara was slow to pull back, panting for breath, running her fingers all over his face in the most heart-wrenching, tender caress.

  Trying to help relieve the tension, Dakota teased, “All right, boys, mind your manners and help the old man up.”

  Without hesitation, four hands appeared before him, ready to offer assistance. Dakota grabbed hold of two of those helping hands, and was pulled up with care, while the other two men came in close to his sides to provide support.

  Tamara was on her feet standing before him quicker than the blink of an eye, issuing orders. “Be careful with him, you buffoons. Take him into the cabin. There’s no way he can make it to the bunkhouse.”

  Although he felt like he could make it, Dakota wasn’t about to disagree. Nodding his assent, he leaned on the other men as they helped him up the steps and straight to Tamara’s bed. After laying him back, Steph questioned if he needed anything before chasing the cowboys out of the cabin, leaving Tamara and him alone.

  He listened in silence for several minutes as she fumbled around in the bathroom, cussing and berating herself as a fool. She came and sat down next to him on the bed, wiping the dirt from his face with a cool cloth. Looking into her bright green eyes he clearly saw the love and tenderness she fought against tooth and nail.

  Capturing her hand, Dakota stilled her movements. “It’s okay, Tamara. I’ve been through this before with my hip. I’ll be fine.” Her gaze met his, and he was struck speechless by the strong, unguarded emotions revealed in the depths of her eyes.

  He patted the side of the bed. “Please, sit down. I want to tell you what happened.”

  She sat where he’d indicated and Dakota began talking. It wasn’t a pretty story or one he enjoyed telling, but he wanted her to know.

  “I didn’t start out breeding and training horses. I started as a competitive rider. The U.S. equestrian team selected me to compete in the 2004 summer Olympics in Athens.”

  “What an honor!”

  He nodded. “Yes, it was a wonderful honor and an incredible opportunity. Too bad I had to mess it up.”

  It was during the second day, on the grueling cross-country course, the two of them went down. The event was designed to test speed, endurance, and ability of horse and rider to jump over obstacles, as well as the rider’s knowledge of pace and use of the horse’s abilities. This was not an event to be undertaken when physically or mentally impaired.

  “My coach tried to convince me to withdraw since my head wasn’t in it, but I was too stubborn.” He sighed. “My grandmother had died while we traveled to Greece, and I was grieving.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Tamara ran her fingers over his cheek.

  “Thank you, princess.”

  A strong sense of discipline, work ethic, and a responsibility to the rest of his team had driven him. Even knowing it was dangerous to compete, he would not let everyone down, including himself. He’d carried on in honor of his grandmother.

  “We were three-quarters of the way through the fifty-seven hundred meter distance with fifteen jumps left to go. The most difficult hidden jump took us by surprise, despite having walked the course several times and knowing it well.”

  They’d gone down hard, landing in a confused mass of man and horse—arms, legs and hooves. Dakota was to blame. The accident was the direct result of his lack of concentration.

  “My left hip was shattered, requiring four surgeries to put it back together in a workable fashion. Hunter faired somewhat better, managing only to pull tendons and muscles in an effort to right himself. Neither of us was able to compete anymore. It’s the reason why the idea of getting in on the ground floor of the Shooting Star’s equestrian program was so appealing. This is my chance to still work with horses who may one day win competitions.”

  Savannah already assured him she would be turning the horses over to his capable care. It was a chance he never imagined being offered. One of the important deciding factors had been his horse. The Blacks were enthusiastic and supportive about having Hunter at the ranch to continue rehabilitating from his injuries. They’d assured Dakota he would be permitted whatever time necessary to work with his own horse.

  He understood the ranch was expanding at a rapid rate, and the owners were working toward being general overseers. Their intention was for the different working areas of the ranch to be run by a hand-picked staff of pros. This idea suited Dakota very well.

  “The Blacks agreed not to tell anyone because I didn’t want my abilities questioned or to be treated with
kid gloves.”

  “I can see why you kept it a secret. The boys would’ve used it to tease and harass you.”

  Of course, she of all people understood. He knew Tamara kept her own secrets, hiding her true self from her friends. Dakota hoped she’d learn to trust him enough at some point to let him see her beautiful spirit shine instead of hiding behind the attitude. At least he felt better for having shared his story. Now if he could manage to keep her close…

  “The medicine is making me tired. How about helping me take off my boots before I fall asleep.”

  With a nod, Tamara set about her task, being very careful of his left leg. After removing his socks she pulled a lightweight blanket over him, and turned to move away.

  “Princess,” he whispered, waiting for her to turn back. When she did he took her hand, pulling her to his side. “Stay with me.”

  Again she nodded then crawled onto the bed, snuggling up against his right side. The last thought to filter through his drug-hazed brain was how good it felt to have her lying there, right where she belonged.

  ??

  Damn, just what he’d expected, waking up alone in her bed. Although he’d hoped she’d still be lying next to him, Dakota was a realistic man. By now, Tamara was running scared from the emotions stirred up by the day’s events. It was time to take drastic measures before she shut down again.

  Soreness shot through his left hip and leg when he stood. Dakota winced, but was undeterred by the flash of searing pain. To succeed in what he had planned would require swift, decisive maneuvering. Everything was in place at his spirit camp. He’d spent all his free time in the evenings making sure it was. Now all he had to do was capture one gun-shy, wild filly and get her there. The rest would take care of itself.

  Not bothering with his boots, Dakota gathered up his things and headed for the bunkhouse. A hot shower would help loosen his muscles and relieve the burning ache. Afterward, a deep rub with one of his special herbal creams and he’d be good to go. The long ride ahead was going to be difficult, but he’d been through worse. Helping Tamara was worth the discomfort.

  Thoughts about all the surgeries to repair his shattered hip, followed by countless hours of physical therapy made him shudder. Having survived the medical torture, he knew he’d survive anything life threw his way.

  Dakota was thankful everyone was most likely at dinner and the bunkhouse was empty. The last thing he wanted to do right now was answer a bunch of questions. Although none of the men had a strong emotional attachment with Tamara, they would still fight to protect her if they felt she needed them. Facing down four riled cowboys was not in his plan. Not yet.

  After showering, he changed into a worn pair of jeans, clean shirt and soft moccasins. The brief note he left on the table told them he was taking some time off to rest his hip, giving no indication of where he was going or when he’d be back. No one would even expect a note from Tamara. It was not out of character for her to take off for a few days at a time on a whim without telling anyone, according to what he’d gleaned from the others.

  Hunter called out an equine greeting before Dakota had even made it through the stable door. He greeted the big horse with the brush of a hand down Hunter’s long face and soft muzzle. The sight of the big, mixed-up looking horse always lightened his heart. As was typical of the Leopard variety of Spotted Appaloosa, Hunter looked like he’d been splattered with brown and white paint. Each member of the breed had its own, individual color pattern as distinctive as a fingerprint. Hunter’s primary color was a snowy white decorated with splashes of reddish brown, most of which were concentrated on his face and neck but also in a sporadic spread across his powerful body.

  After saddling and bridling Hunter, he picked out a calm Palomino mare for Tamara and repeated the process. He strapped on the saddle bags he’d prepared and the only thing remaining to be done was to capture his princess. He decided to wait until he was certain the cowboys would all be in the bunkhouse and use the cover of darkness to aid in spiriting her away.

  Chapter Five

  Walking across the ranch yard to her cabin, Tamara wondered if Dakota would still be in her bed. What happened earlier had left her feeling like a bundle of exposed nerves. She really needed some time to get her head back on straight. Emotions she didn’t know how to handle were hammering at her from all sides and she felt downright battered.

  One side of her prayed he would still be there, waiting for her to care for him. The other side, the scarred side, would be happy to find her cabin empty as usual. Empty was safer, right? She didn’t know how she would handle the injured man lying in her bed since she had no experience with taking care of anyone. Hell, she had enough trouble taking care of herself. She wasn’t a nurse maid and had no idea how to approach the task.

  Maybe she should take him a tray of food or see if he needed some more of the pain medication Zeke had given her after dinner. The meal had been an unusual, somber affair, with the typically playful cowboys being quiet, watchful and expectant. Everyone seemed to be waiting for her to say or do something.

  Well, she wasn’t about to be their evening’s entertainment. Let them think whatever they wanted. It didn’t matter much one way or the other. She hadn’t interacted with the boys to any great extent since before the wedding, and had no plans to do so anytime soon. They’d have to figure things out for themselves.

  While she did miss their sexual escapades, Tamara knew that part of their friendship was over. Something inside her had changed and playing with the cowboys no longer held the appeal it once had. Hell, half the fun had always been the danger of discovery and the shock factor involved. Since Van had walked in on them, everyone knew about their bunkhouse games and the thrill was gone.

  She refused to let the timing of this sudden change penetrate her consciousness. It was a mere coincidence Dakota’s arrival coincided with the timing of this big change in her. On some deep level, Tamara knew she was deluding herself, yet she was unwilling to admit to her false beliefs, happy to live in her fantasy world for the time being. Life was easier to handle with her denial firmly in place.

  Complete and utter silence hit her the moment she stepped into the cabin. It had a deserted feeling. Squashing down the hope and anticipation she’d harbored at the thought of taking care of Dakota, she moved through the familiar space and into the bedroom. Her heart dropped down into her stomach when she saw the empty bed. The only sign marking his presence was the rumpled section of the bed linens.

  The walls started to close in as the crushing weight of solitude slammed into her small body. Granted, she did not like to spend much time by herself, but she’d never felt this bothered by silence before. She didn’t remember a time in her life when she had felt quite so alone.

  Rejected.

  The word bounced around in her mind, echoing over and over again in the silence. She didn’t know how or why he’d left, but he had, not trusting her to take care of him.

  Fuck! She was thrust back in time with cruel abruptness, back to the ultimate rejection. The painful memory of being six, standing before the social services worker as the woman spoke like she wasn’t even there and didn’t matter. She’d stood there—face streaked with dirt and tears, thumb in her mouth—as the cold woman had nonchalantly talked about the fact no one wanted Tamara. Not her drug-addicted mother or her absentee father. All she’d had in the world was the raggedy cloth doll tucked in a tight hold under one arm.

  Her mind began to drift through the multitude of loveless foster families she’d been thrust upon who only wanted her for one reason—the check they would receive each month from the state. Every grubby male hand that had ever tried to take something from her flashed through her mind within a matter of seconds. Every hollered threat and demeaning task she’d been required to complete sliced through her head like a knife, leaving behind a sharp pain.

  At first, she had been happy to go along with anything, hoping these caretakers would love her…maybe just a bit. It had fast becom
e apparent no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she was unlovable.

  As she’d aged and physically matured, the foster mothers would only put up with her until they discovered the attentions she received from her foster fathers. Then she would once again be forced to pack up her small suitcase of mismatched clothing and get dumped on another family.

  If the family had children of their own things were much worse. The children were always cruel. They would set her up for trouble then laugh while she was spanked or locked away in a room or closet. She’d been stunned at the lengths kids would go in order to maintain their status in their families.

  With a mental slap, Tamara pulled herself from the painful memories. In his understanding way and calm presence, Dakota had managed to strip away part of the thick shields she’d built around herself, leaving her exposed to excruciating, painful emotions she was not equipped to handle. Then he had left. Somehow his rejection was far worse than any she’d ever gone through before.