Come Home, Cowboy

by Cathy McDavid

  That aside, she intrigued him, and not just because of her exotic beauty and knockout figure. He wished he had known her before her son had died. Seen the attractive spark in her dark eyes and hear the laughter he suspected was once there in her sultry voice.

  Cara turned in her seat to face him. “Well?”

  He decided he could take her question one of two ways. She might be asking his opinion on what to do next. The horses, fifty or more, were stretched out over a quarter mile in the ravine below, eating grass or standing and staring at the human intruders, their manes and tails blowing in the cold January wind. She could also be expecting him to vacate the Jeep, having delivered him to their destination.

  He leaned toward the latter. She was wearing that scowl, after all, the one she constantly affected in his presence. For fun, he decided to go with the former, if simply to get a rise out of her.

  “Drive closer,” he said and lifted his rope.

  “What exactly are you planning?”

  “Getting those horses back onto sanctuary land.”

  She didn’t move. “How?”

  He retrieved his leather gloves from his duster pocket and put them on. Slowly.

  Her scowl deepened, though it didn’t detract from her loveliness.

  “Well?” she demanded again.

  “I’m going to rope the black.”

  She crossed her arms over her middle. “Do tell.”

  “Then we’ll lead him back to the sanctuary. The other horses will follow.”

  “I’d like to see that.” She didn’t bother hiding her sarcasm.

  “Good.” He adjusted the coiled rope, sliding it between his gloved fingers, liking the familiar feel. “Because you’re going to drive the Jeep up beside him so I can throw this rope around his neck.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I’m open to a better suggestion.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “We can get my brothers and a few more hands on horseback. Or round up the mustangs with the quads, though that might cause a stampede.”

  He could see by her creased brow she disliked that idea. Probably too reminiscent of how the mustangs were captured in the first place. Josh had learned from Violet while having a beer at the Poco Dinero Bar that the horses came from all over Arizona, driven in from the remote regions by a fleet of four-wheel vehicles or sometimes helicopters.

  “Give me thirty minutes.” He allowed himself a small grin, certain his confidence would annoy her. “I’ll have the mustangs safe and secure.”

  “He’ll run,” Cara said, referring to the black.

  “Undoubtedly. All I need is for you to get me close enough.”

  The black was fast. Josh had observed him more than once in the sanctuary, tearing hell-bent for election across the grazing land. He was also fiery, smart and a natural leader, qualities Josh sought in a horse. The black had been the reigning king of his harem of mares before being captured four months ago. He wasn’t ready to abdicate his position anytime soon.

  Cara chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, distracting Josh. Or was she enticing him? She had a great mouth. Full and lush and wide. He found it hard to look away.

  “What if you don’t?” she asked. “Rope him.”

  “I’ll help you get the mustangs back to the sanctuary any way you choose.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “You swear?”

  What way was she thinking? On foot? They’d never catch the black. Maybe Josh should reconsider.

  He didn’t. “You have my word.”

  She pushed down on the clutch and shifted gears. “Let’s go.”

  The next instant, they were flying down the rise. Had he been with anyone else, Josh would have let loose with a whoop and a holler. Cara was a competent driver. Make that a great driver, he amended as they reached the bottom and turned on a dime with just the right amount of daring.

  The open Jeep, with its roll bar overhead, allowed him the room he needed to maneuver. Ground flew by at increasing speed. At times, the late-afternoon sun blinded him as they drove into it. The wind grabbed at his cowboy hat. Frustrated, Josh whisked it off and dropped it on the floorboard.

  Nearing the mustangs, he unbuckled his seat belt and half stood, bracing his right knee on his seat and his right shoulder on the roll bar.

  “Be careful,” Cara said over the noise of the engine. “I wouldn’t want you falling out.”

  Was she being sarcastic again? Josh couldn’t be sure. He kind of hoped so, liking to think she hid a sense of humor somewhere beneath all those layers of pain.

  The mustangs nervously eyed the approaching Jeep. A young colt ran in a circle around his mother, kicking up his back feet.

  “Cut to the left,” Josh ordered, pointing at the black. “He’ll bolt that way.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “He won’t take the herd up the ravine. Too many cholla cactus.”

  Cara nodded, then swung the Jeep hard to the left. As if someone had flipped a switch, the entire herd collected itself, then broke into a full gallop. The black stayed in front. It was a position that enabled him to both act as lookout and defend against possible danger.

  Josh raised the rope above his head, the force of the wind nearly ripping it from his hand. “Move in first chance you get. Don’t worry if the other horses scatter.”

  Once again, Cara proved her exceptional driving abilities. She maneuvered the Jeep so they were driving parallel to the black, about fifty feet away from him.

  Only a half mile of flat ground remained before the next hill. Josh needed to make his move quickly or kiss opportunity goodbye.

  “Get closer.” He didn’t add, Now or never.

  Cara seemed to figure it out. Glancing over her shoulder, she eased the Jeep nearer and nearer, narrowly avoiding ruts, holes, boulders and brush. The fifty feet separating them from the black shrunk to twenty. Josh raised the rope...and hesitated.

  Powerful, athletic, with a coat the color of charcoal and sleek as satin, the horse moved with breathtaking beauty. Head and tail raised high, he charged ahead, the image of the outlaw horse he was.

  What would it be like to ride that magnificent animal? Josh wanted to know. More than that, he wanted to own the black. Train him. Gain his trust. Command him. He would, too, he was suddenly certain.

  Lifting his arm, he studied his target. Josh had a drawer filled with gold and silver buckles, testament to his abilities at calf roping, bronc busting and bull riding. Once a rodeo man, always a rodeo man. He had no doubt he’d place the rope precisely where it needed to go—over the black’s head and around his neck.

  Moving his arm in a counterclockwise direction, he let out enough rope for a perfect loop and twirled it over his head. Holding the excess loosely in his other hand, he took aim, sensing Cara’s stare on him.

  Good. Josh performed best under pressure.

  She seemed to read his mind and eased the Jeep into position. Eighteen feet. Fifteen feet. Twelve feet. Josh could now see the whites of the stallion’s eyes.

  Still, he waited, fighting the wind for control of the rope. The galloping horses made a thunderous noise, one Josh could feel echoing inside his chest. Adrenaline coursed through him. His nerves tingled as if on fire, and every muscle in him tensed in preparation.

  The black pushed for even greater speed. Josh swore the horse knew what was about to happen and was intentionally defying him.

  “Steady, boy,” he said, more to himself than the horse. “Easy does it.”

  An instant later, the perfect moment arrived. Josh let the rope fly, his entire system on automatic. He grinned with satisfaction. Damned if the rope didn’t sail true despite the blasted wind.

  As soon as the rope made contact, the black shook his head angrily, but didn’t break pace. When the rope settled a
round his neck and Josh reeled in the slack, the horse kicked out his powerful back legs. The other horses faltered, as if unsure about continuing. The ones farther back were already slowing to a trot.

  “Take it down,” Josh hollered to Cara. “A few miles at a time.”

  She responded quickly. Josh felt the rope grow slack and was careful not to let go. He’d hate to lose the horse now, not after all their hard work capturing him, but he would if the black was in danger of being hurt.

  The black fought the rope, swinging his head wildly, bucking and stopping long enough to rear up and paw the air before breaking into a fresh run.

  Josh kept his end of the rope wrapped tightly, his hand cemented to the side of his leg. Each of the black’s movements transmitted through the rope like a telegraph signal traveling a line.

  “That’s right,” he coaxed when Cara had slowed the Jeep enough that the black trotted alongside them. “No need to fight.”

  Except the black did just that. Refusing to surrender, he snorted lustily and pranced, showing off the spirit that made him a rebel and the sharp action of his gait. Josh fell a little bit more in love with the horse. He wouldn’t be satisfied until the black was his.

  By now, Cara was driving no more than five miles an hour. They were mere feet away from the hill. Had the capture taken a minute longer, they wouldn’t have made it.

  “Should I stop?” she asked.

  Josh dropped down into the passenger seat, the rope gripped in his hand. “Let’s turn around and head back.”

  With little choice, the black went along. Every few steps, he shook his head, snorted and attempted to change direction. Josh held firm. In this contest of wills, he was determined to emerge the victor.

  As he’d hoped, the remaining horses followed their leader. Violet and Joey hopped on their quads and brought up the rear, careful to stay a safe distance behind. Their job was to make sure there were no stragglers.

  Thirty minutes later, they had pushed the mustangs through the gate into section seven of the sanctuary. With some reluctance, Josh cut the black loose. After that, the horse did his job, circling his herd and making sure they were once again safely under his command.

  Cara had parked the Jeep and stood by the gate, watching the mustangs pass through like a mother monitoring her many children. Josh strode over to her.

  She glanced up at his approach but didn’t say anything. He hadn’t expected her to thank him. Well, maybe he had expected it.

  “I’d like to talk to you,” he said, admiring the rosy glow of her cheeks and the way her long black hair whipped around her face. Winter suited her. Then again, he could picture her in shorts and a tank top, her tanned legs and slender arms—

  “About what?”

  His thoughts splintered at her sharp tone. “The black,” he said. “And that horse you were working with earlier.”

  Suspicion flared in her eyes.

  Josh didn’t give her a chance to rebuke him. “I’d like to buy them from you.”

  “They’re not for sale.”

  “I thought all your mustangs were for sale. Isn’t that the purpose of the sanctuary? To rehabilitate the horses and find them a permanent home?”

  “There’s a detailed adoption process. Prospective owners have to meet certain qualifications. You don’t.”

  With that, she walked through the gate and into the sanctuary.

  “Fine,” Josh mumbled to himself, watching some of the friendlier mustangs surround her and beg for attention. “But you can’t avoid me forever.”

  And she couldn’t. Thanks to the terms of his late father’s will and the agreement he’d reached with Gabe, they were both stuck at Dos Estrellas, for the next year at least, working and living side by side.

  The situation appealed to Josh far more than he’d ever admit.

  Chapter Two

  Josh examined the brilliant blue sky from astride Wanderer, one of the roping horses he’d brought with him from California. Wanderer had helped Josh win half of those buckles in the drawer at his grandparents’ house. He was a good, reliable mount. He was also getting a bit long in the tooth. Josh hated to think about retiring his good friend, but the day would come eventually.

  “You catch the news last night?” Cole asked, then answered his own question without waiting for an answer. “No rain for another two weeks, if then.”

  “So I hear.”

  Josh’s younger brother sat beside him on one of Cara’s rehabilitated mustangs. Cole, too, examined the sky. They did a lot of that. For cattle ranchers, weather was a thrice daily topic of discussion.

  Cole’s horse, like Wanderer, also stood patiently. One month of training and already the horse showed considerable promise of being a reliable cow pony.

  Hmph, Josh mused silently. Cara hadn’t minded when Cole expressed an interest in acquiring the young mustang. In fact, he hadn’t bothered to buy the horse like Josh had offered. Cole had simply assumed care of the horse and started training him.

  Then again, Cole had sold his four best roping horses just before Christmas to pay off some of the ranch’s more pressing bills—leftover medical expenses from their father’s cancer treatments—as well as purchase supplemental feed for the cattle. That sacrifice, apparently, earned Cole better treatment from Cara.

  All Josh had done was return her escaped mustangs to the sanctuary.

  Yeah, he might have once suggested she relinquish the five hundred acres left to her for the sake of Dos Estrellas. More than once, actually. But he wasn’t alone. Cole had also suggested it. He’d practically insisted on it. Yet Cara gave him one of her precious mustangs and refused Josh.

  He groaned in frustration. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never understand the fairer sex.

  “What’s wrong?” Cole asked.

  “This drought.” He lied rather than admit a woman was getting under his skin. “I understand Arizona is supposed to be dry, but at the rate we’re going, we’ll have to sell off more cattle by March or go under.”

  They’d recently purchased four hundred young steer, bringing their total to two thousand head. It was a calculated move. The steer were purchased at a good price and could be sold later at a profit. That was, if the weather cooperated. Without grass, the steer wouldn’t grow fat and sleek, a necessity for their plan to work. If not, they might all be looking for a new home.

  That included Cara and her precious mustangs. Yet she continually refused to cooperate.

  Cole tossed aside the stalk of dried grass he’d been chewing. “Violet says rainy season is twice a year, late summer and winter.”

  “Except it’s rained once in the last four months and late summer is a long ways off.”

  “No accounting for Mother Nature.” Cole clucked to the gelding.

  Break time was apparently at an end. Josh followed his brother’s example and set off after him.

  They were inspecting fences. In light of yesterday’s fiasco with the mustangs, it seemed the thing to do.

  Especially since mustangs weren’t the only culprits after the cattle’s grass. Deer from the mountains and wild horses from the neighboring reservation made a habit of visiting Dos Estrellas. Though when it came to the nimble deer, a fence didn’t provide much deterrent. Just last week, Josh had observed a small herd of mule deer sail effortlessly over a five-foot fence and onto ranch land.

  “You’re the one who decided we should live here,” Cole said.

  Their horses walked the fence line nose to tail, needing little guidance.

  “You agreed.”

  “Like I had a choice.” Cole chuckled humorously. “You’d have had my hide if I’d stayed in California.”

  Josh knew Cole wasn’t as mad as he pretended to be. They had returned to Mustang Valley and their childhood home last November af
ter the death of their father, and then because they were named as beneficiaries in the will.

  Josh wouldn’t deny it. They’d both been hoping for money or some asset they could convert into quick cash. Josh mostly because he’d drained his bank account fighting for custody of his kids, and Cole because he wanted nothing attaching him to his father. Instead, they’d each inherited one-third ownership in the ranch their great-grandfather had built and their late father had loved above all else, including them.

  They’d also inherited a somewhat hostile partnership with their half brother, Gabe, who made no secret of wanting to buy out Josh’s and Cole’s shares, as well as a debt that would soon bury them if they didn’t find another source of income. In addition to the inheritance came two housemates named Cara and Raquel.

  By all accounts, Josh and Cole should dislike Raquel. Their father began an affair with her over thirty years ago while still married to their mother. The result of that union was Gabe, born in between Josh and Cole. Raquel was the reason their mother had left Mustang Valley, taking Josh and Cole with her to Northern California. It was the last time either brother had seen their father alive. Josh had been seven, Cole five.

  Returning to Mustang Valley, living under the same roof with their father’s second family, wasn’t easy for Josh. It was harder for Cole. Good-natured Raquel, however, had extended the hand of friendship and treated them with kindness, welcoming them into a home that technically wasn’t hers. It was an unusual and complex situation none of them were managing easily.

  Josh, Cole and Gabe each had their reasons for working together and running the ranch. The all-important question was, would any of their reasons pay off?

  “Look there,” Josh said.

  Seeing a potential weak spot in the fence, he reined in Wanderer. The horse immediately stopped, tugging on the bit. Josh dismounted. He’d hardly begun inspecting the splintered wire when Cole appeared beside him.

  “What do you think?”

  Josh tested the wire. “Worth a second look.”

  For about the tenth time that morning, he removed his cell phone and snapped a picture of the potential trouble spot in the fence. He then entered a few comments in the notes app, including location and description of the necessary repair.