Abbie And The Cowboy

by Cathie Linz

  “Come on, let’s go,” Dylan said, taking her arm and leading her to his pickup.

  “Can he really turn off the water?” Abigail quietly asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ll check it out. But I have a feeling that if it was that easy, he’d have done that to Pete years ago.”

  Dylan had a point, she noted.

  “It’s more likely that he’s bluffing, trying to panic you into selling.”

  “It won’t work. I don’t panic easily.”

  “Unless you’re in my arms,” Dylan noted as they reached his truck. “I wonder why that is?”

  “I didn’t panic tonight.”

  “No. Makes me wonder why.”

  “Maybe I decided to stop running.”

  “And maybe you’ve come up with some other plan.”

  “And what plan might that be?”

  “Who knows? A woman like you, one with plenty of imagination, is bound to come up with something.”

  “It sounds to me as if you’re the one with the overactive imagination,” she stated.

  “So you’re saying you’re ready to go to bed with me?” he countered.

  “No!”

  “How about making love beneath the stars?”

  “Love wouldn’t enter into it. You’re talking about sex.”

  “It’s a part of life.”

  “You specialize in leaving. Not in living,” she told him. Or loving, she thought to herself.

  “We all leave—one way or another, one time or another. That’s why we have to enjoy the moments we have.”

  “So men have been telling women since prehistoric times. They go off, following their code of honor, fighting wars, conquering lands and other women. And who is left behind to clean up the mess? The woman. Besides, you’re younger than I am.”

  Her non sequitur threw him. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “So I’m younger. What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “I’m not looking for a one-night stand. At this point in my life, I’m looking for a little security…”

  “Which is why you quit your comfortable job down in Great Falls and moved up here to take over your uncle’s ranch.”

  “Okay, I’m allowed a few contradictions in my life, but you’re not going to be one of them.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because I said so. Look, I know this is some kind of game for you, a challenge like staying in the saddle eight seconds.”

  “Oh, I can last longer than eight seconds,” he assured her with a naughty grin.

  “I’ve heard it all before, cowboy.”

  “Not from me, you haven’t.”

  “And what makes you different?” she countered.

  “This.” Swooping down, he captured her lips in a sizzling kiss. Where before he’d teased her, slowly building the fire, this time he consumed her, igniting a passion that was comet hot.

  The summer wind swirled around them, and his tongue swirled around hers, fanning more flames. His embrace was tight, pressing her against his aroused body, letting her feel just how much he wanted her.

  Lifting his lips from hers, he murmured, “This is something special, it’s not like anything else, not like being with anyone else. This is just you and me.”

  “And chemistry,” she said, taking a shaky step away.

  “Or magic,” he whispered.

  Abigail shook her head, her long curly hair falling into her eyes. “I don’t believe in magic.”

  Dylan smoothed a tendril away from her eyelashes as he noted, “You write about love and you don’t believe in magic?”

  “Not the kind you’re practicing.”

  “And what kind might that be?”

  “The temporary kind.” And with those words, she got into the truck’s cab and slammed the door.

  The forty-minute ride back to the ranch was done in silence, broken by the Chris LeDoux tape that Dylan turned on after the first fifteen minutes. Almost every song was centered on rodeo life, reinforcing Abigail’s initial misgivings and Dylan’s sense of what he’d lost.

  “This is ridiculous,” Dylan said as he turned off the ignition and the cassette at the same time.

  “I’m glad you finally realize that,” she replied,

  “Why do I have the feeling we’re not talking about the same thing?”

  “Because it seems we’re never talking about the same thing. You’re only interested in one thing. And we both know what that is.”

  “It used to be saddle-bronc riding,” Dylan noted harshly as he took off his hat to shove his hand through his hair before setting his broad-rimmed black Stetson in place again.

  Seeing the mannerism made her own weakness strike home. As far as he was concerned, rodeo still came first. “Are you missing the buckle bunnies hanging on your every word?”

  “My words weren’t what they hung on to, honey.”

  Abigail felt a flash of something suspiciously like jealousy streak through her. “I’m sure. And I’m sure you enjoyed every second of it.”

  “I like a little fun as much as the next man, but these days you’d have to be crazy to go risking your life acting on every invitation.”

  “This from a man who risked his life every time he got into the rodeo ring.”

  “It’s not as dangerous as all that.”

  “Right,” she scoffed.

  “It’s not. No more so than football.”

  “Oh, that’s real reassuring,” she mocked.

  “Are you worried about me?”

  “Should I be?”

  “It looks like my rodeo days are behind me now,” he noted with that trace of bitterness she picked up on right away.

  “But you’d give anything to be back, for another goround, for another chance to break your neck.”

  Dylan shrugged. “It goes with the territory. Haven’t you ever wanted anything enough to risk everything to go after it?”

  “I’ve taken my share of risks.”

  “There you go, then.”

  “But I only took those risks when I knew I had a good chance of succeeding.”

  “I did have a good chance of succeeding. Hell, I had a damn good chance of winning at nationals again this year! I was second in the national standings before I busted up my leg.” He rubbed his thigh with a clenched hand.

  “Did the dancing tonight aggravate it?”

  “No, the dancing damn well didn’t aggravate it,” he growled. “If you want to know what’s aggravating me, it’s you.”

  “Me? What did I do?”

  “Kiss me like you meant it and then act like nothing happened.” A grin suddenly flashed across his dark countenance as he drawled, “Lucky for you, I’m a forgiving kind of guy.”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re just the model of patience,” she mockingly retorted.

  “Which is why I can do this—” he brushed a quick kiss across her cheek “—and walk away afterward. Good night.” Tipping his hat, he was on his way, merrily whistling under his breath.

  “Listen, cowboy, I already know you’re a pro at walking away!” Abigail shouted after him. He was also a pro at kissing, but she had no intention of imparting that information.

  She’d stomped up the porch to sit on the still-crooked swing before realizing that—to her surprise—Dylan had come back to her. On a roll now, she continued her diatribe. “Men have forgotten how to be romantic, if they ever knew how in the first place!”

  “That’s not true. Men can be just as romantic as women.”

  “I have yet to meet one.”

  “You’re looking at one right now.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, me. You don’t believe me?”

  “Say something romantic. Go ahead and give it your best shot.”

  “All right.” Taking her hand in his and looking her straight in the eyes, he softly murmured, “I want you to know that there are probably a hundred thousand things about you that I admire, but the thing that really makes me pro
ud to be the man sitting here beside you is the fact that you believe in me and I believe in you.”

  Abigail’s heart stopped. She forgot to breathe. He made her believe, believe in magic, in anything being possible, including the fact that he was speaking the truth.

  That was before the glint of humor in his Gypsy eyes brought her back to earth.

  Snatching her hand away, she said, “You’re a smooth talker. That’s different from being romantic.”

  “So I’m supposed to stutter and search around for words instead of saying what I feel?”

  “You weren’t telling me how you feel.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you were just kidding around.”

  “This just confirms the point I was making. Women make it almost impossible for a man to show he’s romantic. Because they don’t believe he’s telling them the truth.”

  “So, you were just trying to make a point. I knew it.”

  “You’re impossible!” he growled.

  “Hey, do you mind if I use that romantic line in a book?” she couldn’t resist calling after him.

  “The one about you being impossible? Go right ahead!” Dylan had ended up having the last word, after all.

  The next day was Sunday, Dylan’s day off. It didn’t start out well.

  For one thing, he knocked over the Gypsy box, but thankfully it fell on a pile of his dirty clothes so it wasn’t damaged. His sister would skin him alive if he ruined the family treasure. And that got him to thinking, realizing that in his intentness on Abbie he hadn’t called home in several weeks. The phone in the cabin was from the fifties, but it did work.

  “What state are you in this time?” his mother asked him after first making sure that he was okay and eating well. If she fussed this much over him while thinking he was healthy, he could just imagine what a hyper state she’d be in if she knew about his injury.

  “What state are you in?” his mother repeated.

  A state of confusion, Dylan thought to himself, combing his hair back out of his still-sleepy eyes as he remembered the emotional roller-coaster ride he’d been on with Abbie last night. “I’m in northern Montana.” He gave her the address and the ranch phone number. “I’ll be here the rest of the summer.”

  “The rest of the summer? That’s not like you, Dylan. Are you doing all right?”

  “I’m doing fine.”

  “Your brother is here with Brett and the baby. Wait, he wants to talk to you.”

  “Hey, Dylan, good to hear from you,” Michael said. “Fallen off any horses lately?” he mocked as he did each time he talked to Dylan.

  Ignoring the stab of pain at the memory of his last fall, Dylan answered him with equal fraternal mockery. “No, but I rode to the rescue of a damsel in distress.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “She is. She’s trying to hold on to her ranch, and someone else wants her off of it. So they put a few burrs under her horse’s saddle.”

  “Have you notified the authorities?”

  “With what? Suspicions? No. Besides, the main suspect owns the neighboring ranch, along with a good portion of the county.”

  Michael’s voice was dead serious as he said, “Do you think this suspect will try something worse next time?”

  “Could be.”

  “Damn it, Dylan, that doesn’t sound like a very stable situation.”

  “Hey, you know me. I thrive on danger and excitement.”

  “And I’ve dealt with people who will do anything to get what they want. I track them down in my security business, remember? Give me the guy’s name, and I’ll run a security check on him.”

  “His name is Hoss Redkins.”

  “What a name. I’m getting this image…”

  “Of an overindulged, overblown buffoon? That’s him. And I can tell you that his belly is a real giveaway. No true rancher carries around a tire like that. They work too damn hard.”

  “Well, don’t you work too damn hard,” Michael said. “And call our sister. Right away. She’s been on my back about not hearing from you. She’s just about ready to have me get out a search party to look for you. So check in more often and give her a call right now, before she drives me nuts.”

  Dylan lasted all of about three minutes talking to Gaylynn before letting something slip. They were discussing the Rom box. “If it granted wishes, I’d wish for my career back,” Dylan joked.

  “Back?” Gaylynn repeated in confusion. “What do you mean back?”

  “Nothing. Never mind. It was a joke.”

  “No way I’m buying that, little brother. You might as well tell me now, because you know I’ll just hound it out of you in the end. And I should warn you that I’ve learned a few things from the master of hounding inquisition, Hunter Davis himself.”

  “And how are you and your new husband doing?”

  “Just fine, and don’t try changing the subject. What happened with your bronc riding?”

  “First you have to swear that you won’t tell Mama anything.”

  “You think I can’t keep a secret? Hey, I’m not the one who spilled the beans about their surprise twentieth-wedding-anniversary party. That was you, remember?”

  Dylan groaned. “You’ll never let me forget. Okay, the thing is, I had a little accident…”

  “What happened? Are you okay? Did you break anything? Are you in the hospital? Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay,” Dylan said in exasperation. “I keep getting interrupted by my sister. If you’d be quiet a second, I’ll tell you what happened.”

  “Then talk faster,” she shot back.

  “I bit the dust down in Arizona. Landed the wrong way and ended up busting my leg in a couple places. I’d already messed up my knee from an injury before… Anyway, the bottom line is that they told me I wouldn’t be able to ride competitively again. Normally I’d ignore the doctors, but this time it looks like they’re right.”

  “Oh, Dylan…”

  “The doctors had told me I was lucky to have retained as much use of the leg as I have, lucky that I’m still able to ride at all. But I’ll never ride like I did before.” He fingered the championship gold belt buckle in its presentation box that he kept on the bedside table. “So forgive me if I don’t feel real lucky, despite that magic box you sent.”

  “Oh, Dylan, I wish there was something I could say—”

  He stopped her. “There isn’t, but thanks anyway.”

  To his relief, she changed the subject. “You got the box safely, then?”

  “You bet. Sorry I haven’t been in touch before, to congratulate you on your marriage and all, but I haven’t been real good company.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Staying on a friend’s ranch in northern Montana.” He gave her the phone number. “Actually I’m working for a Western-romance writer. Abigail Turner. You ever heard of her?”

  “Heard of her? I’ve read all her books! She’s great! Wait a minute, what do you mean you’re working for her? Doing what?”

  “She’s inherited this ranch from her uncle, a friend of mine who’s passed on. She’d decided to try and run the place herself.”

  “With some help from you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I thought your motto was not to get involved. Weren’t you the one who told me that a cowboy’s best life insurance was minding your own business?”

  “That was before I met Abbie.”

  “Aha,” Gaylynn murmured triumphantly.

  “What was that ‘aha’ for?”

  Instead of answering, she asked, “Did you open the magic box?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And did you see anyone right after you opened it?”

  “I was alone in my cabin.”

  “You didn’t see anyone?”

  “Abbie slipped off the fence in the corral…”

  “So you saw Abbie,” Gaylynn interrupted him. “And now you’re talking about staying in one place…”


  “Hey, who said anything about staying?”

  “You are, aren’t you?”

  “For the summer, maybe, but I never…”

  “Even the summer is a big step for a rolling stone like you. I can’t remember the last time you stayed in one place for that long.”

  “Chasing rodeo means moving around a lot.”

  “And now you’re chasing Abbie instead.”

  “What makes you think she hasn’t fallen head over heels in love with me already?” Dylan retorted. “Isn’t that what this magic box of yours is supposed to do?”

  “The box belongs to the family, not just me. Have you talked to Michael about how it affected him?”

  “No way.”

  “Men,” Gaylynn snorted in disgust. “Well, much as he might say that Brett is the one who swears by the box’s magic, let me tell you he’s not such a doubter himself. Not after every baby in a mile’s radius seems to be drawn to him as if he were a baby magnet or something. You read my letter, about the secondary effect, right? About your gaining a skill you never had before?”

  “Yeah, and you’ll get a kick out of this. I was on stage last night at a dance and I was singing.”

  Gaylynn groaned. “How fast did you empty the place out?”

  “That’s the thing. All of a sudden, my voice sounds pretty darn good.”

  “See, that’s what I mean! It’s the box working.”

  “Well, I hate to burst your bubble, sis, but the truth is that I was attracted to Abbie even before I got the box.”

  “And what about her? How does she feel about you?”

  “She hasn’t quite reconciled herself to the inevitable conclusion yet…”

  “Meaning she’s putting up one hell of a fight,” Gaylynn translated wryly.

  “She’s got this thing against cowboys. Says we only know about leaving, not about living.”

  “She does have a way with words, doesn’t she?” Gaylynn said with admiration. “Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  “I’ll win her over in the end.”

  “And then what? What happens when the summer is over?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Fight it all you want, Dylan, but I think your rolling-stone days are numbered.”