by Donna Alward
Gabe decided to run the rope through the girth on either side of the saddle. A tricky operation. One miscalculation and the results could end in disaster. For the horse and Gabe.
“Here goes nothing.”
Thankfully, the horse remained quiet while Gabe circled him and attached the rope to both sides, looping it behind the saddle horn for added resistance. It was the best he could do under the circumstances. By the time he finished, sweat had gathered on his forehead and soaked the inside of his shirt.
He removed his cowboy hat and combed his fingers through his damp hair.
“You holding up?” he asked Reese.
“I’m fine.”
Right. She looked ready to drop. He gave her credit, though. She wasn’t a quitter.
“Then, let’s get this horse out.”
He patted Bonita’s rump. She’d done well so far. What came next would be the real test.
Glancing over his shoulder, he inspected his handiwork one last time. The big paint cooperated by not moving. That, or he was past the point of fighting.
Gabe stood at Bonita’s head and gripped the side of her bridle above the bit. The rope stretched taut from both sides of her saddle to both sides of the paint’s.
“Good girl.” He rubbed her soft nose. “You can do it.”
Bonita nuzzled his hands, not the least bit concerned.
He peered over her back at Reese. “You ready?”
“Yes.” She didn’t look it. Her hands shook and her face was alarmingly pale.
“Your job is to keep that horse’s head up. Bonita and I will do the rest. You understand?”
“Got it.”
“Any sign of trouble, you let go. I mean it. Don’t put any of us in danger.”
She nodded.
“All right then. On the count of three. One, two, three.” He clucked to Bonita and yanked on her bridle.
Muscles straining, hide quivering, the mare took one step forward, then a second.
Gabe glanced back at the paint. He’d yet to move, other than stretching his head and neck out as far as they would go.
“Come on, boy. Now or never.”
They could only do so much. It was entirely up to the horse. If he didn’t haul himself out of the sinkhole and onto solid ground, he would die right where he was.
Bonita didn’t quit and, once again, Gabe admired the little mare he’d handpicked from his friend Cara’s herd of rehabilitated wild mustangs.
“He’s doing it!” Reese hollered.
Gabe looked. True enough, the horse had found the will to save itself. With tremendous effort, he dug his front hooves into the ground and, with the aid of the primitive pulley, climbed out of the deep mud.
“Don’t quit on us now.” Gabe wasn’t sure who he was talking to. The horse or Bonita or Reese. Did it really matter?
With a final mighty groan, the horse heaved himself out, landing with a grunt on his belly. Gabe let go of Bonita and rushed to the paint, afraid the unsteady horse would slide back into the hole.
One rope in each hand, he pulled with every ounce of his strength. It wasn’t enough.
“Help me,” he said to Reese.
In a flash, she was there.
“Grab the saddle.”
She did, and by some miracle, they dragged the horse two feet before they gave out. The ground beneath the heavy horse held. He lay there, his back legs suspended over the hole and dripping mud, his breathing coming in great gusts.
“Give him a few minutes,” Gabe said, flexing his cramped and aching fingers. “Then we’ll get him up.”
“Okay.” Reese stood bent at the waist, her hands braced on her knees.
Gabe, too, rested. How long had this taken? Thirty minutes? An hour? He wasn’t sure. Except that, for whatever time it took, he hadn’t once thought of his father’s death.
“My God, Gabe, you did it! You saved him.”
The next instant, Reese slammed into him, her arms circling his neck. He automatically steadied them both by holding on to her.
“Thank you,” she said, clinging to him, her face buried in his coat.
He stared at the top of her head, momentarily stunned. He’d touched Reese just one other time in their entire lives. They’d been in high school, at their senior prom. He’d cradled her while she cried and begged him not to tell anyone she was pregnant.
* * *
“YOU SHOULD CALL the vet right away.”
Reese didn’t need Gabe to tell her that. Of course she’d call the vet. The second she and General arrived home. But, seeing as Gabe had rescued her father’s favorite horse, and she was eternally grateful, she bit her tongue.
“I will.”
They’d finally managed to coax General to his feet after a ten-minute respite. The poor gelding was utterly depleted and stood with his head hanging low and his nose to the ground. If it were at all possible to drive a truck and trailer into these rugged hills, she’d do it. Unfortunately, she and General would have to travel by foot.
“Come on.” Gabe grabbed hold of his mare’s reins and mounted with the grace and ease of someone who rode daily. Once seated, he stared at her expectantly.
“What?” she asked.
He patted the mare’s hindquarters. “Climb aboard. Daylight’s wasting.”
Reese blinked in astonishment. “You’re suggesting we ride double?”
“Your horse won’t make it thirty feet carrying you.”
Did he believe her a nitwit? Just because she’d been away from Mustang Valley for a long time didn’t mean she’d forgotten everything she’d ever learned.
“I was planning on walking.” She picked her hat off the ground from where it had fallen. “At least to the road.”
“I’ll take you,” he said, as if it were already decided. He removed his left foot from the stirrup.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“You’re tuckered out. And it’ll be dark soon.”
He was right. The sun had started dropping, along with the temperature. General was wet and starting to shake. If she didn’t get him moving soon, he’d catch a chill. Her, too.
“Fine.”
He raised one brow as if to remark, “Funny way of saying thanks.”
Gabe had always been able to convey enormous emotion using very few words. It was a quality she’d found intriguing from the time they were young. That, and his good looks. His Hispanic heritage, courtesy of his mother, blended beautifully with his Dempsey genes. Dark hair, silver-gray eyes, a strong jaw, tanned complexion and a wide mouth created for kissing.
Not that she had kissed him. Or even thought about it. Okay, not much.
She and Gabe had grown up neighbors, but also rivals, thanks to their fathers’ lifelong feud. They’d steered as clear of each other as much as humanly possible in a small community the size of Mustang Valley.
Six months ago, she’d returned after a twelve-year absence. This afternoon was the first time she and Gabe had spoken since the night of their senior prom.
She should, she supposed, thank him for something else besides saving General. He’d kept his promise and said nothing about her pregnancy. If he had, she would have heard. Secrets like hers were too titillating to resist repeating.
Holding General’s reins with her right hand, she clasped Gabe’s outstretched one with her left. Then, putting her foot in the empty stirrup, she let him assist her onto the mare’s back.
“Can she carry the two of us?” she asked, settling in behind Gabe. The mare was on the small side and worn out after her recent efforts.
“She’ll manage.”
The next moment, they were off. At the mare’s first hop over a hole, Reese grabbed Gabe’s middle rather than be dumped on the ground. She swore he chuckled beneat
h his breath. Or it might have been the wind.
“How’s he doing?” Gabe asked after a few minutes.
Reese looked behind her at General, and her heart hurt. “He’s limping on his right rear leg.”
“Will he make it to the road?”
“I think so.” Then she could call the house and have someone from the Small Change meet them with a truck and trailer.
If her phone had worked when General fell into the sinkhole, she wouldn’t have had to rely on Gabe’s help. She’d tried repeatedly to get a signal, but there had been none. She was lucky he’d ridden by. And that it was today rather than tomorrow, after the reading of August Dempsey’s will.
“Thank you again,” she said. “I owe you.”
He simply grunted.
“For a lot more than saving General,” she added, wondering if he understood her meaning.
“I’m a man of my word.”
Okay, he did understand. “For which I’m very appreciative.”
She waited for him to ask her what had happened to the baby. Where she’d gone when she left Mustang Valley. What she’d done. If she’d ever told Blake Nolan, the baby’s father.
Gabe remained stoically silent, and she sensed an unmistakable tension coursing through him.
The next mile passed slowly. Every few minutes, Reese checked on General. His limp was getting worse, and she gritted her teeth. How far to the road? She craned her neck in order to look ahead over Gabe’s broad shoulder.
In hindsight, she should have waited to take General out until later in the week when she was less busy. But she hated seeing the stout gelding cooped up day after day in his stall, barely ridden.
It wasn’t her father’s fault. He would exercise General every day if his health permitted. This morning, simply crawling out of bed to attend August Dempsey’s funeral had been a challenge. Riding was out of the question.
“It was nice of you to come today,” Gabe said, rousing her from her thoughts.
“My father may not have gotten along with yours, but he respected him greatly. We wouldn’t have missed the funeral.”
Gabe’s response was another noncommittal grunt.
The mare stumbled on the steep incline, causing Reese to grip Gabe’s waist tighter.
“Maybe I should get off and walk,” she suggested, acutely aware of his broad, strong back through the thick fabric of his coat.
“We’re almost to the road.”
It was the longest fifteen minutes ever. Immediately upon dismounting, she examined General. The poor horse was on the verge of collapsing.
She got on her cell phone, and breathed a sigh of relief when her call connected.
“Hi, Dad.” She summarized the situation, including how Gabe had rescued her and General.
“I’m glad you’re all right and that Gabe was riding by.” Relief filled his voice. “He’s a good man.”
Reese knew her father’s praise was sincere. The rivalry between him and August Dempsey was strictly over business and had nothing to do with character. In another lifetime, under different circumstances, the two might have been friends.
“I’ll tell him myself when I see him,” her father continued.
“No, Dad. You’ve had a long day.” She turned away from Gabe, who still sat astride the mare, and said in a low voice, “You need your rest. Send Enrico.”
“He’ll drive, but I’m damn well going with him.”
It was the best she could hope for. Her father was a stubborn old fool when he set his mind to something. Like not telling anyone about his Parkinson’s. How long could he realistically expect to keep hiding his disease? He was starting to show symptoms, and people were becoming suspicious. Like Enrico, who’d worked for the McGraws since before Reese had left.
“Fine.” What choice did she have, short of telling Enrico? And her father would never forgive her for that. He was a proud man. “See you when you get here.”
“Be careful, honey.”
Reese glanced at Gabe, then chided herself. Of course, her father was referring to General. She had nothing to worry about from Gabe, who was scrutinizing her every move with those compelling eyes of his.
She said goodbye and disconnected the call. Returning to the weary horse, she gave his neck a loving stroke.
Eying Gabe, she said, “You’d better hurry if you want to get home before dark.”
“I’ll wait until your ride gets here.”
“It could be a while.”
Truthfully, she had no idea how long her father and Enrico would be. She was simply providing Gabe with an excuse to leave.
“I have time.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “The house is filled with food.”
She could well imagine. As expected, friends and family had stopped by, dropping off casseroles, covered dishes and baked goods as they paid their respects. Food and funerals seemed to go together.
“Are you?” Gabe asked. “Hungry?”
“A little.” Between the service this morning, caring for her father and worrying about tomorrow’s reading of the will, she’d missed lunch.
Riding General hadn’t been solely to exercise the barn-bound horse. She’d needed a mental vacation in the worst way.
“Mostly I’m cold,” she added.
Gabe dismounted, unbuckled the saddlebag and reached inside. A moment later, he produced a yellow rain poncho and a small, rectangular object she couldn’t quite make out.
“Here.” He approached her, his stride confident and, she had to admit, sexy.
A small thrill wound through her. She blamed the stressful events of the day. It couldn’t possibly be attraction. To Gabe Dempsey? No way.
“Here.” He shook out the rain poncho, removed her hat and placed the poncho over her head.
“I don’t need—”
“Shut up, Reese.” He replaced her hat and fastened the top snap on the poncho, the one beneath her chin. “It’ll help keep you warm.”
The thrill turned into a flush as his fingers brushed her exposed skin. Who needed a poncho when Gabe’s proximity was enough to warm her from the inside?
“O...kay.” Please don’t let him notice the effect he was having on her.
“Here.” He lifted her hand and pressed the object he’d taken from the saddlebag into it. “Enjoy.”
She stared at the energy bar. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because...”
“You’re as stubborn as your father.” A smile touched his lips.
She thought it might be his first one in days or even weeks. Nothing could be worse than losing a loved one.
“I’ll eat this,” she said, “but only if we share.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Miss McGraw.”
He hadn’t seen anything yet. Just wait until they butted heads over his father’s estate.
Ripping open the wrapper, she removed the energy bar and broke it in half.
He accepted the piece, his fingers brushing hers. Was it intentional? She wouldn’t put it past him. Gabe had always been a ladies’ man, starting in high school. She was surprised he’d reached the age of thirty without some woman snapping him up.
Then again, no one had snapped up Reese, either, though she’d come close once. Perhaps Gabe was like her, married to his work.
They didn’t speak while they ate. Reese stared up the road. No sign of her father yet. When she was done with her half of the energy bar, she checked again on General, then returned to Gabe, pulling the poncho closer around her.
“Still cold?” Gabe asked.
“A little.”
“We could huddle for warmth.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re kiddin
g.”
His smile returned. “I don’t bite, Reese.”
Sweet heaven, he was gorgeous. “I’m fine.” She was not letting Gabe touch her, much less hold her.
Headlights appeared in the distance, about a mile up the road. Reese released a long sigh. As assistant manager of Southern Arizona Bank, it was her job, her duty, to conduct herself professionally and impersonally with the Dempsey family. Huddling with Gabe, even for warmth in extreme weather conditions, wasn’t either of those things.
She waved as the truck and trailer neared. “Dad’s here. You don’t have to stay.”
“All right,” he said, his tone unreadable, and mounted the mare.
“What about your poncho?”
“Keep it.” Gabe tugged on the brim of his cowboy hat. “See you around.”
She watched him ride off into the darkness toward Dos Estrellas, barely noticing the truck rumble to a stop behind her.
He’d do more than see her around. Thanks to August Dempsey revising his will six months ago, Reese was about to become a fixture in the Dempsey brothers’ lives, and there was nothing they could do to change it.
Copyright © 2015 by Cathy McDavid
ISBN-13: 9781460388440
The Cowboy’s Christmas Family
Copyright © 2015 by Donna Alward
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