Cowboy for Keeps

by Cathy McDavid

  This was what she wanted, right? She’d set the boundaries, and he was respecting them.

  Why, then, did disappointment consume her and linger long after she arrived home?

  * * *

  CONNER WASN’T AT THE RANCH when Dallas arrived. Considering their uncomfortable parting the previous night, it was just as well, she convinced herself, as she unloaded her camera bag.

  Had she made a mistake inviting him to the charity dance? Perhaps. But they were both grown-ups and capable of behaving for one evening. More important, they were friends.

  Besides, uninviting him would be an admission of how strong her feelings for him had become these past weeks. Had really always been. Best that remain her little secret.

  Richard hadn’t helped. While waiting in the doctor’s office this morning, he’d asked about her car, which had indeed required a new starter. Then he’d asked about Conner. Dallas had recounted the capture of the mare and colt, along with his fall onto the cholla. She purposely excluded her part in removing the stickers. And she didn’t mention the charity dinner, either.

  Gavin was outside the mare and colt’s stall when she arrived, conversing with an older gentleman in a khaki uniform. A younger man in jeans, boots and a blue work shirt—the veterinarian, she assumed—was with the two horses. A large medical case stood open in a corner.

  The mare appeared to be taking all the commotion in stride. Her baby was less enthused and hid behind her, occasionally poking his head out for a quick peek.

  The vet was still here after all this time? That was a surprise. Perhaps the mare was worse off than they’d thought.

  Dallas was contemplating leaving and coming back later, when Gavin motioned for her to join him and the uniformed man.

  “Dallas Sorrenson, this is Agent Ferreras from Game and Fish.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She returned the short, beefy man’s handshake.

  “If you have a few minutes, I’d like to ask you some questions for our investigation.”

  “Absolutely. Do you have any leads?” From the corner of her eye, she watched the vet apply a gooey yellow salve to the mare’s open wounds.

  “Nothing yet. The arrows appear to be standard hunting issue, without specific identifying marks. Ones that could be purchased from any sporting goods store or online. We’re sending them to the lab for analysis, but it’s going to be waste of time. According to Dr. Schaeffer here, the horse sustained her injuries three to four weeks ago. Any prints or DNA evidence would have long since degraded.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Our best bet—frankly, our only one—is that someone with information is willing to come forward.”

  “You don’t sound hopeful, Agent Ferreras.”

  “I’m not, I’m sorry to say.”

  Dallas was sorry, too. She wouldn’t give up just yet, however.

  “What’s most important is the mare and colt are safe and going to recover.” She glanced at the vet, and then at Gavin. “She will recover, right?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not nearly as bad as it looks.”

  Thank goodness, because it looked terrible.

  “Do you have any extra pictures I can have?” Agent Ferreras asked Dallas.

  “Not with me, but I can email you some.”

  He removed a business card from his wallet. “I’d much appreciate that.”

  “What if I were to take a video of the mare with my phone and upload it to YouTube?”

  The man shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

  They spent several minutes discussing Dallas’s initial encounter with the mare.

  “Connor Durham can probably tell you a lot more than me.”

  “We’re waiting for him,” Gavin said. “He’s on his way.”

  On his way? She should hurry. She didn’t want him thinking she was hanging around in the hopes they’d run into each other. “If you don’t need anything else from me, I’d like to take some pictures of the mare’s brand.”

  “Email me a copy of those, too, and I’ll see if I can’t push through a request with the Department of Agriculture.” Agent Ferreras sighed. “They can be mighty slow down there.”

  “Hard to believe someone could lose a horse.”

  “Happens more than you think. We retrieve four or five free-ranging horses a year. They get to be quite a nuisance to the ranchers.”

  With Dr. Schaeffer’s permission, Dallas entered the stall and took some close-ups of the brand. It resembled a sideways V with a slash through the center. Gavin and Agent Ferreras left for the office, presumably to wait for Conner.

  No one had mentioned where he was, and Dallas refused to inquire.

  “Was it difficult removing the arrows?” she asked the vet.

  “Not too bad. We had to tranquilize her first before she’d let us near.” Dr. Schaeffer had a pleasant smile and he flashed it often. “I’m mostly concerned about infection. Deep wounds like these are slow to heal. She’ll be on an antibiotics regimen for weeks, if not months.”

  The wounds were gruesome. One ragged hole spread six inches across. Dallas steeled herself and took more shots, deciding she would track the mare’s healing progress with photographs for as long as she was at Powell Ranch.

  “She’ll feel a lot better by tomorrow,” Dr. Schaeffer said. “In a few weeks, she’ll be a brand-new horse.”

  “What about the colt?”

  With less people around, the little fellow had ventured out. At that moment, he had his nose in the vet’s medical case, investigating the contents. Dallas took his picture before he scampered away.

  “Nothing wrong with him that a few extra groceries and some taming won’t fix.”

  “Conner and Gavin will make sure he gets both.”

  “The good news is mama and baby are young and strong,” the vet continued.

  “How old is she?”

  “No more than five, I’d say. The colt’s about ten months old, judging by his teeth. A little small for his age. I figured him younger at first.” Dr. Schaeffer stepped back and assessed them. “I wish she could talk. I’d give anything to know how they survived and where they found water.”

  “If she could talk, I’d want her to tell us who shot her.”

  “That, too.”

  “Is it at all possible to determine how long she was running wild?” Dallas returned her camera to the bag, switched on her cell phone’s video function and began filming.

  “Can’t say for sure.” He lifted the mare’s front foot. “Judging by the condition of her hooves, I’d estimate over a year. Two, more likely.”

  “Which means the colt was born in the wild.”

  “Possibly conceived in the wild.” The vet smiled and wiped his hands on a cloth. “Don’t suppose we’ll ever know.”

  Conner and Gavin wouldn’t approve, but Dallas asked, anyway. “I’ve got this crazy idea that the colt is Prince’s son.”

  The vet shrugged. “It’s not impossible.”

  “Really?” Someone actually agreed with her?

  “They were both loose in the mountains at the same time.”

  “Now I really wish she could talk.”

  “We can always run a DNA test.”

  “There’s such a thing for horses?”

  “Tests to establish parentage are actually becoming common. I’ll talk to Gavin.”

  “He won’t agree. He’s convinced Prince isn’t the colt’s father.”

  “Don’
t know why. Prince stole Gavin’s wife’s horse practically right out from under his nose and bred her.”

  “True!”

  “In fact, I’ll use that argument when we talk.” Dr. Schaeffer flashed another smile.

  “How long until the results come in?” Dallas stopped filming and exited the stall.

  “Normally, three to six weeks. But I’ll pull some strings.” He removed a small zippered plastic bag from his medical case. Cornering the colt, he began removing hairs from the tail. “For the test,” he said.

  It was a tricky procedure, one the colt clearly resented.

  Dallas gave the vet credit; he was brave.

  She was about to ask another question when an SUV pulled up and parked just outside the barn door. It bore a logo on the side Dallas couldn’t quite make out. Nor did she recognize the uniform the man wore until he got closer.

  “Morning, folks.” A polar opposite of the Game and Fish agent, this man was tall and reed thin. “Officer Grady with the Arizona Humane Society. I’m here to see Gavin Powell.”

  “He’s in the office,” Dallas said. “I can take you there.”

  His glance cut to the mare. “This her?”

  “It is.” Dr. Schaeffer met Officer Grady outside the stall, and they discussed the mare at length.

  Dallas listened intently without trying to be obvious about it. She was pleased to learn the AHS treated cruelty cases every bit as seriously as the Game and Fish.

  “You taking pictures of the mare?” Officer Grady nodded at her camera bag.

  “I have been from the day we found her on the mountain.”

  “You’re that gal who sent the photos to the news stations.”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “Good job. You saved two lives.” His tone, previously curt, reflected admiration.

  Dallas felt her smile blossom. “Thank you.”

  She had done well. And her photos had made a difference. It’s what she’d always dreamed of.

  Like her mother and father had dreamed of doing when they were young.

  “Any chance I can get copies of the pictures you took today?” Officer Grady passed her his business card.

  She was acquiring quite a collection. “Absolutely.”

  After saying goodbye to Dr. Schaeffer, she escorted the officer to where Gavin and Agent Fererras waited. She wasn’t asked to stay, which was a shame. She’d have liked to learn more about what steps the agencies were considering.

  Then again... She reached for her phone to check the time. Where had the last hour gone? If she hurried, she could grab a quick lunch before her next appointment, head shots for a local businessman.

  She was busy composing a mental list of the equipment she’d need and didn’t notice Conner until he spoke her name.

  “Oh, hi.” She stopped just short of her car and stared. Then blinked.

  Conner was dressed in a dark gray suit, complete with dress shoes and tie. He looked totally out of place on a horse ranch and absolutely delicious.

  She hadn’t seen him in a suit before. Dress slacks and a dress shirt, sure, in the days when she’d stopped by Triad’s offices to meet with Richard for whatever reason. But not in a suit.

  He should wear them more often, she decided. Clothes definitely made the man. Or was it the other way around? He would turn every female head at the charity dinner on Saturday, hers included.

  No chance was she uninviting him after this.

  “You look great,” she blurted without thinking.

  He didn’t acknowledge the compliment. “Just came from an interview.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “I’m trying not to get my hopes up.”

  “But you are.”

  “This job would be a good fit. And I think they liked me.”

  She could hear the enthusiasm in his voice. She also heard him attempting to suppress it.

  “Conner, you’re going to find a job. You’re too talented and too smart to be without one for long.”

  “Gavin phoned me. Said to come to the office the minute I got back.”

  “An agent from the Game and Fish and an officer from the Arizona Humane Society are in there. They want to ask you some questions.”

  “All right. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Have to be much later. I’ve got a busy afternoon.”

  He nodded and started around the corner to the barn entrance, his steps lacking any spring.

  She suddenly remembered and called out, “How’s your back?”

  “Fine.”

  She believed him. It was his insides that hurt, and there was nothing she or anyone could do to help.

  Chapter Eleven

  For the third time this week, Conner tucked his dress shirt into his trousers, straightened the knot in his tie and shoved his arms into a suit jacket. But instead of going on an interview, he was escorting Dallas to the AAWA charity dinner.

  It wasn’t a date. He’d reminded himself of the fact enough times over the last several days and it had finally sunk in. That he hadn’t seen her since the morning after they’d captured the mare and colt made it easier.

  The same day he’d interviewed at the metal fabrication company. Another job he didn’t get.

  According to Gavin, Dallas had been to the ranch once since then to take more pictures. Her determination was admirable. If anyone could find the mare’s owner or the person responsible for shooting her, it would be Dallas.

  Conner missed her. Not a day or an hour passed that he didn’t recall the touch of her gentle hands skimming his naked back. He’d say the excruciating pain of the cholla cactus was well worth it, but...

  Who was he kidding? Hell, yes, it was worth it.

  And that was why any romantic thoughts of her needed to stop.

  Whatever decisions she and Richard reached, regarding the baby and the future of their relationship, would be made without Conner in the picture.

  He tried remembering how much gas was in his truck and decided he had enough. It wasn’t too often he wished he still owned his convertible. Tonight, he did. Picking up Dallas in his weathered old Ford, imagining them pulling up to valet parking at the fancy resort, was enough to ruin his mood—which wasn’t that good to begin with.

  At the door to his apartment he paused, his hand itching to grab his cowboy hat from the peg where it hung. No crutches, he silently vowed, and left without it.

  “Hooo, doggie.” A familiar form reclined against the side of Conner’s truck, a Stetson pulled low over his brow. “If you looked any prettier, I’d take you out myself.”

  That brought a smile to Conner’s face for the first time all day. “Hey, Clay. A little late for you to be out, isn’t it?”

  His friend had been keeping much earlier hours since getting married and becoming a father.

  “I had an errand to run. This.” He tossed something at Conner.

  Instinctively grabbing for the flying object, Conner caught it in midair. The car keys jangled in his hands. “What’s this?”

  “I figured you could use a different set of wheels tonight.”

  Puzzled, Conner walked a few steps, just far enough to see Clay’s BMW parked on the other side of his truck.

  He grabbed hold of his emotions before they colored his voice. “You’re lending me your car?”

  “Can’t expect a pregnant woman wearing an evening dress and heels to ride in this hunk of junk.”

 
Conner didn’t know when he’d appreciated a friend more.

  “Thanks, buddy.”

  Clay hooked a friendly arm around his neck, as he’d often done when they were teenagers. “No rush getting the car back. I don’t need it till Monday.”

  “Be sure and give Sierra my best.”

  “I will.” He grinned stupidly. “We’re having another baby. Just found out yesterday. She took one of those home pregnancy tests.”

  “Congratulations.” Conner pulled him into a back-slapping bear hug.

  “We’re happy.” He looked it.

  For a brief moment, Conner was jealous. He’d been that happy once.

  “I’d better hit the road. Bring that boy of yours around for a ride. Isa’s old swayback needs more of a workout.”

  “Sierra would skin me alive.”

  “You don’t have to tell her.”

  Clay chuckled. “I don’t know how, but she has some sort of built-in GPS when it comes to that kid. I can’t even sneak him into the hardware store without her figuring it out. Hate to think how she’s going to react the first time I sign him up for a Little Buckaroo Rodeo.”

  “I’ll run interference for you.”

  “I’ll need it.”

  Conner handed over his keys so Clay could drive his truck home. “Thanks again.”

  “Enjoy yourself.”

  That was Conner’s problem. He was afraid he was going to enjoy himself too much.

  When Dallas greeted him at her front door, she took one look at the car and gave him a startled glance. “Where’d you get that?”

  Conner had difficulty answering her. His senses had overloaded his brain, causing it to short circuit.

  The dress emphasized every womanly curve, which Dallas had in abundance. Her hair, half up and half down, framed her face in loose waves. She smelled like—he didn’t know what, only that he wanted to drown in it.

  Which he did when he pulled her into his arms and inhaled deeply.

  She laughed into his neck. “Hello to you, too.”

  “Clay,” he said.