“We’re thinking of trying the same trick we used to capture Prince.”
“A Judas horse. I remember.” Dallas had learned all about it while working with the writer for the book.
“Yeah.” Gavin nodded. “The mare was raised with other horses, that’s obvious. If Ethan and I hadn’t come barreling up that hill on our ATVs, Conner would have had her tied and ready to be led home.”
Dallas remembered her frustration when the mare took off at the sudden noise.
“We’re thinking of erecting a similar makeshift pen in the box canyon,” Gavin continued. “Put a couple horses in there for a day or two and spread out some hay. With luck, she’ll come out of hiding.”
“She and the colt have to be hungry.”
Gavin’s cell rang before he could respond. “Yeah, Conner.” He paused and looked at Dallas. “She’s here now. I’ll tell her.” Gavin disconnected. “He’s on his way. Be another fifteen minutes.”
“Is Sage around? I could visit the baby.”
“She’s with Sierra. They took the kids on a play date.” Gavin looked bemused. “As if my two-year-old nephew is interested in his three-month-old cousin.”
“Not yet. But one day those two boys will be close as brothers and getting into the same kind of trouble you and Ethan did.”
“God help us all.”
“Gavin!” A man holding a handsome Thoroughbred hollered and waved him over. “Got a second to look at this fella’s limp?”
“Be right back,” Gavin told Dallas.
“No rush. I’ll just wander.”
She didn’t get too far before Gavin’s stepdaughter plodded up on a swaybacked gelding.
“Hello, Mizz Sorz-son,” she said, butchering Dallas’s last name.
“Hello to you, too, Miss Isa. And don’t you think you should call me Dallas? We’ve been friends awhile.”
“Gavin says I’m supposed to be polite.”
Dallas went over and stroked the horse’s velvety nose. “You have my permission to call me that.”
“Really?” The girl grinned, leaned down and wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck. “But I might have to call you Mizz Sorz-son in front of Gavin.”
“Is he strict with you and Cassie?” Dallas wondered if his parenting style was more like Hank’s than she’d initially thought. If strictness was typical of all stepfathers.
“Kinda.” Isa straightened, her mouth scrunched to one side as she pondered Dallas’s question. “Not like my mom. Cassie and I have sooo many chores.” She expelled a tired breath, as if the burden placed on her was unbearable. “Gavin just wants us to use manners with anyone who comes to the ranch. Always say Mister and Mizz because we rep-per-sent the Powells.”
Dallas had to laugh. Isa’s impersonation of Gavin was spot on. “You’re doing a fine job.”
“Why ya here? You taking more pictures?”
“Of Prince. I’m waiting on your uncle Conner.”
“You wannna ride Chico?” She patted the horse’s neck.
The old gelding had been standing patiently, head hanging and eyes drifting close. He completely ignored his young rider, who constantly wiggled and jiggled and fidgeted, standing up in the stirrups, only to plop back down.
Dallas was convinced a giant crack in the earth could open up in front of the horse and he’d sleep through it.
She did miss riding. Her doctor had advised she could continue with her normal activities at this stage of her pregnancy as long as she was careful. What better horse to ride than one entrusted with an unsupervised seven-year-old?
“Only if you watch me,” Dallas said. “And we ride in the round pen.”
“Yay! You hear that, Chico?”
Dallas walked alongside Isa and Chico to the pen, which had been recently vacated by the man with the limping Thoroughbred. Slinging her camera bag over a fence post, she watched as Isa hopped from the saddle and, holding on to the horn, dropped the last two feet to the ground. Chico didn’t move, reassuring Dallas that riding him would be completely safe.
“Here.” Isa tossed Dallas the reins and scrambled up the fence, where she perched on the top rung.
Dallas mounted Chico, who remained completely disinterested in the change of riders. She nudged him into a walk, her hands relaxed as she guided him in a circle. Not that the old horse needed much guiding. He knew his job.
The sun on her face, the breeze tickling her hair, the sound of Chico’s hooves tromping through the soft dirt, the McDowell Mountains standing tall and proud to the south—it was an absolutely perfect experience.
“Make him trot,” Isa called out. “He’ll do it. He’s just lazy.”
“Lazy is the right speed. Besides, I’m not sure trotting would be good for me.”
“Why?” Isa wrinkled her small brow in puzzlement.
“Because I’m having a baby.”
“You are?” The girl’s mouth fell open. “Seriously?”
“Didn’t your parents tell you?”
She shook her head, and then announced proudly, “I know all about having babies. Where they come from. How they’re born.” She rubbed her belly. “Mama told me they grow in here. In the u-tar-us.”
“They do.” Dallas would rather avoid any discussion of human reproduction with Isa, and changed the subject. “How old is Chico?”
The girl was not to be deterred. “When Mama had Milo, she let me go to the doctor with her and see pictures of him on this machine. His heart was beating, like, a million miles an hour, and I could see his arm moving.” Awe shone on her face and altered the quality of her voice. “Did you do that? See your baby on a machine?”
“Not yet. Probably next month.” How to introduce a different topic? Dallas racked her brain as Chico continued trudging in circles.
“Can I go with you when you do?” Isa asked.
“Um...” Dallas hadn’t even decided if she was going to bring Richard. She supposed she should ask him. “Let me talk to your mother about it first.” A cop-out, but she didn’t know how else to fend off Isa’s request. “Where’s your sister today?”
It turned out that Dallas didn’t need another distraction attempt. Conner’s truck rambled past, on the way to his apartment, she assumed. Except the truck came to a sudden, gravel-crunching stop.
Conner jumped out and ran toward them.
“Hi, Uncle Conner.”
He ignored Isa, jerked open the gate and stormed into the pen, waving his arms in front of Chico. “Whoa, boy.”
Chico obediently stopped, as if that was his intention all along, and gawked at the human suddenly blocking his path.
So did Dallas. “What’s wrong?”
He took hold of Chico’s bridle. “Get down now.”
“Why?”
“You agreed, no riding.”
“Into the mountains. This is Chico. We both know he isn’t going to do anything.”
“Dallas, please,” he pleaded. “Even a small risk isn’t worth it.”
The concern in his voice swayed her when she would have put up a fight. He cared.
“All right.” She gripped the saddle horn as Isa had done and swung her right leg over Chico’s behind.
Reaching the ground, she spun, only to find herself in Conner’s arms. Then in his embrace.
* * *
CONNER HELD ON TO DALLAS, relieved she was safe from harm. It wasn’t his intention to put them in yet another compromising position, but she’d given him a start. Yes, old
Chico was a dependable mount, but he was an animal, and therefore unpredictable. If she by chance fell...
“I’m okay,” Dallas muttered into his jacket front.
Realizing his grip was tighter than necessary, he released her, only to study her from head to toe. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” She smiled.
He couldn’t kiss her. Not with Isa and half of Mustang Village watching. And they were watching. Conner slamming on his truck brakes had guaranteed that.
But he wanted to kiss her. Badly.
He would again, he vowed. When he landed a decent job. Secured his house from the clutches of the bank. Purchased a new vehicle suitable for transporting a mother and child. Wasn’t mooching off his friends.
“Believe me,” she said. “I wouldn’t have ridden Chico if I thought it was risky.”
“I know. But do me a favor. Don’t ride him or any horse until after the baby’s born. My nerves can’t take it.”
“All right, I won’t. I promise. Not where you can see me, anyway.”
“Dallas!” His fingers found her shoulders and squeezed.
She laughed. That incredible, intoxicating laugh of hers. “You’re very gullible. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“My mother lost two babies. Miscarriages. The first from stepping off a curb and falling down. It’s one of the reasons her marriage to my dad hit the skids.”
Dallas instantly sobered. “I didn’t know.”
“I just wouldn’t want to see you—or anyone—suffer.”
“Thanks.” She reached up and cupped his cheek, let her thumb skim the line of his jaw. “You’re one of the good ones, Conner.”
He tensed, a fiery current zinging through him.
“Hey, Uncle Conner!” Isa jumped down from the fence, landing feetfirst in the soft dirt with a thud. “Are you and Dallas, I mean Mizz Sorz-son, boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“We’re just friends.” He handed Isa the reins, then tugged on the brim of her crooked ball cap. “No boy and girl in front of it.” To emphasize the point, he stepped away from Dallas.
“Hmm.” Isa scrutinized them, her mouth pursed. “It sorta looks like you are.”
“Enough from you, pip-squeak.”
More to shut her up than anything else, Conner grabbed her around the middle and tickled her ribs. She giggled and tried to squirm away. When she nearly succeeded, he lifted her up and plunked her into the saddle.
“Now, go find your dad,” he told her.
She bent down and gave his neck a hug. “I love you, Uncle Conner.”
His chest tightened. She’d never said anything like that before. “Right back at you, pip-squeak.”
He shot a quick, embarrassed glance at Dallas. She was staring at him as if he had discovered the cure to end world hunger.
Women. They were an enigma. One impossible to solve.
“See ya later, Mizz Sorz-son.” Isa nudged Chico into a walk.
“Call me Dallas,” she hollered after the girl.
“You two pals now?” Conner asked.
“Not like you two.”
“I was just being nice to her.”
“Right. It’s not as if you really love Isa.”
He didn’t answer.
Dallas grinned and grabbed her camera bag.
Conner had his hand on the gate, ready to close it, when a rider approached. “You want to use the pen?”
“If you’re done,” the woman answered pleasantly. She sat astride a sleek ebony horse that pranced eagerly in place.
“That’s one of the rehabilitated wild mustangs from the sanctuary,” he informed Dallas.
She stopped and turned back. “Do you think she’d mind if I took her picture?”
“Ask her while I park my truck.”
Dallas was bursting with excitement when they met up five minutes later. “I got some great shots. That woman truly adores her horse. Did you train him?”
“Me? No. He’s one of Ethan’s success stories. When that horse was first brought in from the reservation after a roundup, he was considered incorrigible.”
“Well, not anymore.”
“Ethan’s the best trainer in these parts.”
“You’re pretty good yourself.”
Conner shrugged off the compliment. “I’ve only been working with the wild mustangs the last three months.”
“How’s the job search going? Did Hank line you up with any good prospects?”
Dallas was being nice, expressing an interest. But dammit, Conner wished she’d quit bringing up his lack of employment every time they were together.
“He did put me in contact with one company. A paper product manufacturer in Chandler.”
“And?”
“The vice president interviewed me.”
“And?” she prompted when he hesitated.
“It was a courtesy to Hank. They’d more or less filled the position already. With a woman. Seems the company has a policy regarding the ratio of male and female supervisors. To avoid any accusations of discrimination.”
“That’s rough. Denied a job because you’re a guy.”
“I’ve been turned down for worse reasons.”
“Any other leads? It didn’t occur to me to ask, but Hank might also know a reputable headhunter.”
Three leads this week and they’d all gone nowhere. Conner would rather stick pins in his eyes than tell Dallas about them.
“Today’s kind of a celebration,” he said as they neared the horse barn. “Prince is being bred to his hundredth mare since the Powells have owned him.”
His tactic worked. She was sidetracked.
“I’d love pictures of that. Would Gavin mind?”
“Watching a pair of breeding horses isn’t for the faint of heart.”
“I can handle it. I know all about the birds and the bees.” She patted her stomach. “Obviously.”
“Horses kick and bite. You could get hurt.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“It may not matter. Prince will have one thing on his mind and no regard for manners.”
“That’s why zoom lenses were invented.” She stopped abruptly and drew in a breath. “He’s beautiful. I’ve seen him before, but not like this.”
They were in sight of Prince’s quarters, a specially designed stall at the end of the row. He stood at the railing, watching a small herd graze in the nearby pasture, his head held high and tail arched.
Several times a week Gavin put Prince in the pasture with one or two nonaggressive geldings. Like most studs, Prince could be difficult to handle, especially when there were mares in heat. Running and socializing with other horses helped to calm him.
Contact with people did, as well. He liked Gavin best and was reasonably fond of Ethan, who’d broken Prince to ride last winter. Conner he tolerated.
As they neared the stall, Prince went from standing to prancing back and forth, proudly showing off his form. He stopped just as suddenly and whinnied shrilly, his attention on the mare motel next door.
“I swear, that horse has a sixth sense. He always knows when it’s breeding day.”
Dallas reached into her bag and removed her camera. Dipping and moving from side to side, she snapped away. “How close can I get?”
“You’re close enough.” Conner held her in place by clutching her sweater sleeve.
“The bars of the stall are in the way.” She lowered the camera. “Any chance you can put Prince i
n the pasture? I’d love some pictures of him at a full gallop. That mane and tail of his are amazing.”
“Maybe. After the breeding. If he’s settled down enough.”
“Can I pet him? Will he mind?”
Conner marveled at how her mind jumped from one subject to the next at the speed of light. “Let me go first. He’s made a lot of progress, but he’s not completely trustworthy with strangers.”
Nearing the stall, Conner held his hand out in front of him. “Easy does it. That’s right.”
Prince rushed over to the railing, blowing lustily.
Conner stroked his face, his movements slow and steady. “Good boy.”
The horse dropped his head, indicating he wanted a scratching between the ears.
“He doesn’t look so tough.” Dallas inched closer, not waiting for Conner’s okay.
“He’s like any guy. There’s always one thing that turns him from a lion into a kitten.”
“Is that so?”
“See for yourself.”
Prince had begun to relax, his ear lying back rather than standing straight up. Another minute and he’d be rolling on the ground, hooves in the air, begging for a tummy rub.
Dallas placed a tentative hand on the side of Prince’s sleek black neck. “What’s the one thing that turns you into a kitten?”
She had to ask? The answer was standing right beside him, her elbow brushing his.
“A neck rub,” he answered, choosing a safer answer.
“Seems you and Prince are a lot alike.”
“Apparently.”
Her eyes lit with mischief. “I’ll have to remember that. If I ever want to wheedle a favor from you.”
He nearly groaned out loud, imagining her hands on him, kneading his flesh.
“We should find Gavin. If you want those pictures of Prince.”
They located him in the arena, instructing a class of beginner riders. The youngsters zigzagged their mounts around a series of poles, practicing their reining skills.
“Maybe we should come back later,” Dallas suggested.
“Give him a minute.”
“If you’ve got something to do, somewhere to be—”
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