Blaze (Missoula Smokejumpers Book 5)

by Piper Stone

  The second event was almost as entertaining. Bareback riding. Well, they still did that kind of thing. Her thoughts drifted to her own horse, a beauty she’d named Mandy. The baby had been her only luxury purchased after the move. Unfortunately, days of being able to take her for a ride were slim and nil. She spent almost every waking hour at the clinic, forging for business.

  Any business.

  After the second group, a horse was limping. Snarling, she bolted toward the two men who were leading her straight to the exterior gate. “Hold on. You’re not going anywhere without my okay.”

  “We have another show to do,” the older man snapped. “You don’t have any right.”

  “I have every right since I’m the facility veterinarian,” she commanded and crouched down, touching the horse’s front leg. “She could have a stress fracture if you keep this up. She needs to rest.”

  “Our horse. We can do anything we want to do!”

  “Dad. She knows what she’s talking about,” the contestant, and a kid barely over legal age, half-whispered.

  “Tom, I suggest you let her do her job.” Gerald walked toward them, his hands in his pockets.

  Stasha rubbed the horse’s leg before standing. “No more competition for at least two weeks.”

  “Then we’re out of the ballgame,” Tom huffed.

  She could tell the man had influence, perhaps even some level of power, but she refused to back down. “Tom?”

  “Withers, Miss…” Tom smiled, a knowing gesture as if he could crush her drive.

  “Dr. Parker and I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Mr. Withers. If this horse is entered into a competition, I’ll report you to the Professional Rodeo Association. If I do that, then you’ll never be able to compete again. Do I make myself clear?” Stasha cocked her head and could tell the younger Withers was embarrassed, backing away from the confrontation.

  “I have your number, little lady. You don’t know who I am,” Tom stated as he sucked on his teeth.

  “And I don’t care. Bottom line. Don’t push me. Let the horse rest and she’ll be fine in two weeks.” Stasha held her ground as she heard the announcement of the next event.

  “We’ll see about this. Come on, boy. Bring your goddamn horse with you.”

  She shook her head and refused to take her eyes off the gruesome twosome until they were out of sight. “Bullshit. I hate this sport.”

  Gerald closed the distance until he was only inches away. “Let me give you a warning, little lady. You don’t want to piss off certain people in this town. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  How many times had she been threatened in her years? Too many. “I don’t scare easily, Gerald. You should know that by now. I will report him.”

  He hesitated before he smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Then you’ll face the consequences, Doc-tor Parker.”

  Even his breath had a distinctive stink, as if he’d already been into a bottle of whiskey. She didn’t respond yet knew the threat was real. She knew their type and would face some level of retribution. She swallowed and squinted as she looked up at the list of participants. Boone Martin was indeed on the roster. Steer roping. One thing she did know about the rodeo circuit. This was damn hard and many a cowboy had been permanently injured.

  As the first man rushed out of the gate, she moved closer. The event was over in less than ten seconds.

  “Eight point four for Mitchell Johnson. Not a bad start.”

  The announcer’s voice was less than exuberant.

  Unable to see Boone, she walked down the fence, keeping her eyes on the gates.

  Boom!

  The noise was thunderous as the next rider shot out, throwing his rope and missing.

  “Oh!” The audience hissed.

  He tried again, missing for a second time.

  Stasha had to wonder now the Neanderthal sport, as Boone Martin called this game, gained its popularity.

  When the rider threw the rope the third time, managing to catch the steer then was yanked off his horse, tumbling and losing his grip on the rope, she cringed.

  “Well, folks. Looks like we have a disqualification. Let’s hope Ricky is going to be all right.” This time, the announcer’s voice was full of sympathy.

  She remained where she was, grimacing every time a new rider was pitched into the ring.

  “And we have a new leader. Four seconds flat. Congratulations, Marty!”

  Glancing at the leader board, there were two more contestants and one single spot left for qualification to whatever the hell the next round entailed. She bit her lip as the second to last rider came out. The man had a wicked throw, snagging the bull with the first swing. As he rushed to the ground, maneuvering his way around the bucking steer, she couldn’t watch.

  “Way to go, Jim! Five point two seconds. Damn good ride. And our last contestant of the day is Boone Martin.”

  The applause was mixed but Stasha noticed a significant crowd cheering from a section in the stands.

  “Come on, Boone. Good to see you back in the ring. For the ladies in the audience, Boone is a member of the Missoula smokejumping team called the Jackals. He and his team appeared in People Magazine a few weeks ago. Give our hometown hero a huge welcome!” The announcer was obviously cheering for the man.

  People Magazine? Interesting. She held her breath as he flew into the ring, Blaze totally under his control. It seemed as if the entire world slowed down, the slow motion allowing her to catch the different nuances in his technique. As he galloped around the steer, his face full of fury, he held the rope high in the air, swinging, the rope arcing. Then he threw.

  And her entire stomach fell.

  Whoosh!

  “Yes!” the crowd roared, and Boone immediately was on the ground, wrestling with the steer.

  Wham!

  “And the steer is down! Let’s see if that’s good enough ladies and gentlemen for a qualification.” The announcer seemed to hum the words. “We’re waiting and… Five seconds on the nose. Boone Martin has done it again!”

  Stasha could feel her heart pounding, thumping against her chest. She’d never been so exhilarated, so thrilled for someone she didn’t even know.

  Boone grabbed Blaze’s reins and waved to the crowd before leading the proud horse out of the pen.

  Realizing she was smiling, she started to walk in his direction, if for no other reason than to congratulate him. When she rounded a corner, she was yanked into a dark space, a hand placed over her mouth. Unable to move, she was shocked at the man’s strength. Metal was shoved against the small of her back. The motherfucker had a gun. Then she heard his words.

  “Watch your back.”

  Chapter 2

  Boone had to admit, he felt on top of the world. Qualifying for the huge rodeo being held in October in Billings, Montana had always been a dream. As if he would have time to train. The fire season had arrived, and they’d already been on several intense calls, hundreds of acres destroyed by careless vacationers.

  “Go, Boone!” Shannon whistled as she waved her cowboy hat. Perched on the fence, she seemed right at home as the country music blared, the beer flowed.

  “The man is gonna get a big head!” Stoker shouted.

  “Already has one,” Sawyer added as he leaned against the gate.

  Lifting his middle finger, Boone continued galloping around the ring, taking Blaze through his practice run, adding a bit of flair.

  “Whoa! Look at the cowboy ride,” Garcia said then pumped his fist.

  “Did you hear the announcer mention the magazine spread?” Sawyer jumped in. “Riker is our boy. I’ve had at least ten women find my number and ask me for a date.”

  “Not what I expected to happen,” Riker stated between clenched teeth.

  “You know what they say about being in the news.” Antonio rolled his eyes.

  Yeah, the article had provided an interesting two weeks for all of them. He’d also had his share of phone calls, both requests for dates as well as some r
ather threatening assholes. Boone leaned down, stroking Blaze’s mane as he performed a series of turns, no doubt creating more of a buzz with the group. What the hell? Grandstanding wasn’t his style, but he was having one of the best days of the year. The team and several unknown audience members from the rodeo had followed him to his ranch, the quiet party already rowdy and the sun had yet to dip below the horizon.

  Turning Blaze in a series of circles, he grinned as he heard the increasing applause. God, the rodeo days had been incredible, allowing him to earn money doing exactly what he loved, what he’d had been taught since he was a boy. Beads of sweat rolled down his back given the late afternoon heat and he’d had one too many beers, plus two shots of tequila. After a few additional turns, he slid off Blaze’s back, dropping down onto his boots with as much flair as his inebriated body would allow. He noticed two of the three women from the rodeo event standing in awe. Their shorts seemed a hell of a lot shorter, their unbuttoned shirts allowed for a luscious sight of their ample busts. Okay, so he hadn’t had a girl in his bed in months. Long months.

  “Woo-hoo!” Landen began to clap. “Wish the Cap’n could have been here today to see this.”

  “Or Jessica. She would have loved it,” Stoker added.

  “Give Jess a break. The woman is as big as a house.” Garcia took several steps away from Stoker, winking several times as he grinned.

  “Asking for a beat down, boy,” Stoker said then laughed. He tipped his head toward Boone. “She wanted to be here. Had a phone call from the studio and in truth, she’s not feeling very well these days.”

  Boone saw the look of concern on his friend’s face. “Everything okay with the pregnancy?”

  Stoker glanced up at the sky. “Nothin’ to worry about.”

  “High blood pressure,” Shannon interjected. “Her doctor is worried, but the big lug here won’t say anything.” She pushed her hand against Stoker’s shoulder.

  “Better take care of her, dude.” Landen headed toward the cooler, grabbing several beers and tossing them to anyone standing close by.

  “Where’s the lovely award-winning babe?” Antonio asked before taking a gulp of his beer then crushing the can.

  Riker shrugged. “Hopefully the last trip to LA before Trinity doesn’t have to deal with their crap.”

  “Quite a party. Love the big horses.” She moved closer to Boone, her smile laced with seduction. When he hesitated, she ran her hand through her long, blonde hair. “Brandy, remember?”

  “I remember. Make yourself at home,” Boone said quietly. He grabbed a beer out of Antonio’s hand, popping the top.

  “Don’t forget we actually have to work in the morning,” Sawyer cautioned.

  “My party.” Boone grinned as he took a swig and wiped his forehead. Work. That’s all they seemed to do lately. As the two girls grabbed a drink, and had no problem mixing with the crowd, flirting with every red-blooded male, his thoughts shifted to the veterinarian. Shit, his pulse was increasing just thinking about the way she handled the rodeo rep. He’d also seen her standing just off the field, her eyes never leaving him. Maybe he would need to find the pretty lady. Chuckling, he had a feeling he’d need a suit of armor, at least at first.

  “Catch the news about the horses?” Sawyer flanked his side.

  “Been too busy practicing to do anything but work, sleep and ride. What’s going on?”

  “Reports coming out of Billings all the way into Idaho about several top dollar thoroughbreds being taken in the middle of the night.”

  Boone choked on a sip of beer and turned in his direction. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Got a buddy in Billings. Two of the big ranches up there were hit recently. Damn shame. Worst part is, the fucker doing this grabs the entire herd, all the mares and standard horses at the same time. I ain’t going to tell you what happens to the ones they don’t want to keep.”

  A cold shiver trickled down his spine. “What. The. Fuck?”

  “I know. All kinds of shit going on about cancelling the rodeo circuit. Just thought you’d like to know.” Patting Boone on the back, Sawyer gave him a concerned look before walking away.

  Clenching his fist, Boone glanced over at his barn. He’d worked hard to build up his stable, if for no other reason than to garner a piece of his past. Blaze wasn’t the only horse he adored and would die to keep safe.

  “Dr. Parker. How was the rodeo? I wanted to go so bad.”

  The girl’s voice was melodic, the tone creating a vivid image inside of Stasha’s head. Megan Morgan was far too perky as well as exuberant for the majority of normal days. On this sizzling afternoon, she was hankering to yank the girl over the counter by her hair. Darting her eyes in Megan’s direction, she gave a meager attempt at a smile. The girl had accepted the job without question, even though the pay was little more than minimum wage. “A lot of holier than thou cowboys pretending to be men. That’s how it went.”

  Megan’s squeal was almost too much to take. “Well, maybe I’ll get to see them in Billings. I can’t wait to see them! Cowboys are oh-so sexy.”

  “Did we get any new patients today by chance?” When she walked behind the counter, she could see her single technician leaning against the wall, no doubt texting his girlfriend. “I guess not.”

  “That’s not true. We have a new client coming in about thirty minutes and I booked two appointments for Monday.” Megan was pleased with herself.

  “Halle-fucking-lujah.” Then she checked her watch. “It’s almost six. Past closing time.”

  “I know but I figured you’d want to see her. The woman sounded desperate on the phone a little while ago. I just couldn’t say no. I hope I did okay?”

  “That’s fine. I didn’t have any plans anyway.” She was tired of sitting in front of her television, eating frozen pizza and drinking cheap wine.

  “Oh, good. The woman was so sad.” Megan shook her head. “I hate when animals are hurting.”

  “You and me both.” Sighing, Stasha hated the fact she was always in a nasty mood but the move to what she called cowboy junction hadn’t been entirely by choice. “I’m going to be in my office. Let me know when the client arrives.”

  “Will do.”

  She walked into her tiny hole-in-the-wall office and flipped on the light. The crowded space was barely enough for her desk and chair, a single file cabinet and one plant, even though the tropical something or other was already dying. At least she had a state of the art computer. Dropping her purse, she slithered into the chair and hit the space bar before dropping her head into her hands. Maybe the choice of Montana had been too much of a leap of faith.

  Patience, grasshopper. She heard the little nagging voice and attempted yet another smile. She failed. Patience wasn’t a virtue and she doubted anyone could beat it into her. As she waited for the emails to pop up, she took stock of what she had in good ol’ Missoula. She had found a damn good deal on a building housed on several acres of land. While considered commercial, the small apartment nestled in the back suited her needs, cutting additional costs.

  She had a barn and somewhat dilapidated corral with a horse trail that led to some body of water. There were trees everywhere and she had a view of the gorgeous mountains. That is if she stood on the miniscule back deck on the railings and on her toes, straining her neck. She laughed and grabbed a bottle of water out of her purse. But the clients would come. She’d been assured by the real estate agent before signing on the dotted line. When? Maybe when hell froze over.

  Yanking the check from the rodeo association out of her jeans pocket, she studied the amount. “Three thousand dollars for two days work. Not too shabby.” And, on top of the money made, she’d created a brand-new set of enemies. Fucking fantastic.

  Blip!

  The sound indicated a new message. Maybe her struggle with building a website on pennies would come to fruition. She clicked on her emails and scrolled through the junk, trashing them without bothering to read. She couldn’t af
ford a new couch, let alone a trip to the Bahamas. Grinning, she did receive a message from a potential new client. Giddy, she read and re-read the message three times before typing an answer. With any luck, the rather nice guy would call for an appointment.

  She opened the last message to come in and gripped the edge of her desk. The email was clear enough.

  Watch your back…

  How many times was the fucker going to warn her? Jerking out her notepad, she wrote down the email address – concernedrancher at gmail dot com. As if that hadn’t been made up solely for her benefit. Still, maybe she’d get lucky. She thought about what to say in response. “What the hell.”

  Fuck. You.

  Click!

  Stasha shoved the keyboard out of her way and glared out the tiny window. The crack slithering down the middle told the tale. Her entire life was running on a razer’s edge of disaster. Disgusted, she pulled out her checkbook, checking the balance. Unless she had an influx of cash in thirty days, she would be forced to close. Then what? Work for another vet? Maybe.

  She fingered her mouse before tugging her keyboard closer and moving to Google. The sexy cowboy had certainly been a delicious moment of eye candy in the otherwise wretched day. Boone Martin. She typed in his name and could see an entire list of guys with the same name. What had she heard the announcer say? Oh, yeah. People Magazine. Worth a try.

  The beauty of the internet. She found the link right away. The cover held the picture of some other guy, one hot man if she said so herself. As she flipped to the story, she was taken aback. Ten men standing in firefighter pants, no shirts and smiles on their faces. “Damn.” She scanned the story and was intrigued. Missoula smokejumpers. She knew what they did, at least to a point, but had no idea how life saving their techniques could be. Well, the man was the real deal. Maybe a good guy after all.

  What the hell was she thinking? She hadn’t met a good man in a hell of a long time.

  Hearing a knock on the already open door, she glanced up. “Your appointment is here in exam room two. One sad looking puppy.”