Dare to Kiss a Cowboy

by Renee Roszel

  Anna shook her head, managing to stifle a yawn. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine. Even gave some vaccinations the other day.”

  Bud scrunched up his face. “Heckfire. Makes me sick-er’n a calf with the slobbers just thinkin’ about pokin’ them animals.”

  Anna laughed at him. “Uncle Bud, that’s always amazed me about you. You’ll set your own broken bones, but you can’t stand to watch anything or anybody get a simple shot.”

  He shook his head at himself. “Don’t make no sense to me neither, Punkin. But I’d sooner be stuck up a tree with a mad ol’ bear chawin’ on my shorts than give shots. Glad I had old Doc teach you how to do it when you was a kid.” He patted her cheek. “You’ll do Mr. Dare proud. He’s a lucky cuss to have you here till that darned fool brother of yours gets his backside outa trouble.” The old man shook his head and moved toward the truck, mumbling something that sounded like, “If he lives that long.” But, he’d spoken just as Euby had started the pickup’s engine. So, she didn’t quite catch it.

  “What did you say?” she asked. “Was it something about Steven?”

  He took off his hat and scratched his head, the curly crop of gray sparkling like new snow in the sunlight. “It weren’t nothin’, Punkin. You take care now.”

  “I will,” she said, still confused about his remark. She must have heard wrong. “’Bye, Uncle Bud,” she shouted over the roar of Euby’s engine. “Now, don’t you overdo!”

  He waved his beat-up hat, then with a grimace, hauled himself into the truck. Anna bit the inside of her cheek. He was in pain, darn him. Why couldn’t he admit he wasn’t capable of physical labor anymore? Prideful old coot! He’d just climb on a horse, day after day, and get jounced around until he finally rattled his old bones to death. She watched, powerless to help, as Euby maneuvered the truck and trailer around and headed down the drive.

  “What the heck are we going to do with them goats, Miss Anna?”

  She turned to see Hunky, his work-toughened features full of worry, slap his hat against his leg, raising a cloud of dust. She’d learned that gesture meant he was really upset. He’d done it the whole first day she’d been on the job, and she’d hardly been able to see him because there’d been so much dust flying.

  “Mr. Dare ain’t gonna like having goats on the place,” he muttered, wiping a grimy hand across his much-broken and very sunburned nose.

  Anna shook her head. “You leave the goats to me, Hunky. Is Freckle cooled down?”

  “No, ma’am. I was just gettin’ to it when I saw them goats.”

  “You go back and take care of Freckle. I’ll handle the—”

  “Lambs! Little woolly lambs!” Nicole rushed out of the house, her garb a curious cross between Western and grunge. She wore ripped cutoffs and a black T-shirt, topped by an oversize, western-cut shirt. As she ran, her combat boots clomped loudly along the walk, and she had to clasp her new Stetson, a gift from Dusty, to her head to keep it from flying off. She bounded along the twisting path that weaved through Max’s prized rose garden, at a perilous pace. “I’ve never seen lambs before. What are you going to do with them? Shave them and make sweaters or something?”

  “Go ahead and take care of Freckle,” Anna said to Hunky as Nicole skidded to a stop beside her. “They’re not lambs, they’re goats,” she explained. “My uncle brought them for me to use to help train Mr. Dare’s cutting horses.” She decided not to add that Dusty was probably going to kill her the minute he saw the bearded little faces.

  “Oh?” Nicole looked over to the field where the goats were. From a distance, they did look a lot like sheep—cream-and-gray creatures, the size of large dogs. They were hardly cuddly lambs, though. Each of the horned males weighed close to 150 pounds. But Nicole, being a city girl, wouldn’t notice such subtleties. “Can I pet them?”

  Anna was startled by Nicole’s interest, since she’d refused to have anything to do with the horses and cattle. “Sure,” she said, taking the girl by the hand. She walked with Nicole along the manicured lawn toward the fenced pasture where the goats were munching on the lower branches of the trees that lined the back fence. “They make great pets and will even come when you call them,” she said. “They love poison ivy, too, which is wonderful, because there’s lots on our ranch.”

  “Do they bite?” Nicole asked, obviously getting more nervous as they neared, for she could see now that they were fairly large.

  “They can’t bite. They’ve got teeth on the bottom, but only a hard gum on the top. Even if you stuck your fingers in their mouths it would only tickle.”

  “Cool,” Nicole murmured, going through the white wooden gate.

  Anna followed close behind. The grass in the pasture was knee-high, and wildflowers nodded in the warm humid breeze. It occurred to Anna that this would be the perfect time to speak to Nicole about why fifteen-year-old girls shouldn’t ogle naked men. “That gray one with the twisted horn is Plague,” she said, trying to think of a good way to broach the delicate subject.

  Nicole scrunched up her nose. “Plague’s a gross name.”

  “Uncle Bud and I named them after groups of things. A plague is a group of locusts.” She pointed to a white-faced gray. “He’s Murmuration, which is a flock of starlings.” Indicating a cream-colored goat with gray spots on his back, she said, “And he’s Troop, a group—”

  “I know, I know,” Nicole chimed in. “A group of Boy Scouts.”

  Anna shook her head and grinned. “Nope. It’s a group of monkeys, but that was a good guess.”

  Nicole approached Troop, one of the smaller goats, and tentatively touched his back. “Troop’s hair’s nice. Sorta like a dog’s.”

  “Like a German shepherd’s, I’d say. Personally I prefer goats to other pets.” A couple of the bucks lifted their heads and bleated, as though they agreed with Anna. “Speaking of pets, how’s Scumbucket?”

  Nicole laughed as Plague nudged her to get her to notice him. “Scumface is fine,” she corrected, twisting so she could pet both goats. “Right now he’s taking a nap in my tennis shoe.” She squatted to stroke Troop’s face, crooning to the animal as he rubbed his head against her hand. “I think I’m going to like living on a ranch, after all.” Nicole glanced up at Anna with wide happy eyes. “I’ve never had pets before, and now I have a kitten and a bunch of goats.”

  Distress tightened Anna’s stomach. How was she going to explain that their presence on Bent River Ranch was a mistake? How was she going to explain it to her boss? Her plan to talk to Nicole about the uncle-ogling problem slid away. She couldn’t bear to chastise the girl now. Let her enjoy the goats while she could. There’d be time to talk about the other matter later.

  “Hey, pardners!”

  Both Nicole and Anna turned toward the shouted greeting. Thad was standing in the open stable door, waving his white cowboy hat.

  “It’s your geek friend.”

  “Thad’s no geek,” Anna chided. “He was a lot of help yesterday.” Which wasn’t a lie. He had been a help—considering he was a tenderfoot with a hay allergy. “I’d better go.” She gave Plague one last pat. “I promised to teach Thad some riding basics this morning.”

  “Hey, Anna, before you leave, could you tell me all the goats’ names?”

  She smiled at the girl’s interest. “Sure. That white guy’s Exaltation, for a group of larks. Charm’s over there. I think that’s poison ivy he’s eating, so leave him alone till he’s done. Anyway, a charm is a group of finches, and—” she twisted around to point at an ivory giant with grand horns that swept back almost ten inches from his dangling ears “—that’s Sloth, which is a group of bears.”

  When Anna was finished, Nicole said, “Weird names, but cool.” She headed off toward Sloth with Plague and Troop tagging behind her.

  Sloth looked up and bleated as Nicole straddled him and grasped his horns. “Giddap, Slothie!” Then Troop gave her a nudge and almost unseated her, which made Nicole laugh.

  Since Nicole seemed content t
o play with the goats and Thad was calling her, Anna went to give the tenderfoot his riding lesson. She prayed her boss would take these latest additions to his household in relative stride—which, for him, would probably be a homicidal glare.

  IT WAS FIVE O’CLOCK and the workday was finally ending. Anna had just left a pile of bills on Dusty’s desk and was on her way back to he stable when Nicole crashed through the back door. “Anna! Anna! Uncle Dusty murdered Plague!”

  Standing at the stove, a white apron around his waist, Max jerked around to gape.

  “What do you mean?” Anna asked. She’d known her boss would be outraged about the goats, but she’d never dreamed he’d harm them. Oh, why did he have to come home early tonight? She’d hoped she’d have a chance to explain first. “You can’t be serious, Nicole,” she said, trying to remain calm.

  Nicole shook her head, her loose black hair flying about her tearstained face. “No! No!” she bawled, her face screwing up in fresh agony. “Plague’s lying out there—dead! Hurry!” She yanked on Anna’s arm. “Hurry before he kills any more!”

  Anna shot an apprehensive glance at Max, who was still frozen before the stove, his cooking fork aimed at the ceiling. “Would he?” she asked him as the hysterical girl dragged her toward the door.

  The wizened old man’s mouth had sagged open in shock, which to Anna was a good sign. Apparently Mr. Dare wasn’t in the habit of massacring innocent creatures. She started to run toward the south pasture, but Nicole made an unexpected swerve to the right, yelling, “No. Over there—by the garage!”

  Surprised, Anna changed course, vaulting the edge of the rose garden and dashing toward the four-car garage. Now she was beginning to understand what must have happened. Plague had leapt the wooden fence and gone off to investigate his new home. Why hadn’t she foreseen this and staked him?

  She was cursing her stupidity when she rounded the corner of the house and caught sight of Dusty Dare’s black Mercedes. Plague was lying quite still on the car’s hood.

  Nicole began to shriek again. “Uncle Dusty, I loved him. I loved him!” She ran over to her uncle, who was examining the fallen goat. Nicole wedged herself between him and the car and began to pound his chest. “I loved you, too, but I can’t love a goat murderer!”

  Dusty was glowering, but to Anna he also seemed mystified. “Nicole, I don’t think—”

  “How could you?” she shrieked, cutting him off. He looked at Anna, seeming oblivious to the girl’s pummeling. His all-too-familiar scowl told her he wanted an explanation.

  She dashed to him, tugging Nicole away. “Nicole, stop that. Plague’s not dead.”

  Nicole’s sobbing didn’t diminish, but she stopped fighting and wiped at her eyes with her fists.

  “Plague’s not dead,” Anna repeated, then turned to Dusty. “What happened? What did you do?”

  “What did I—” He halted in midsentence and glanced down at Nicole, running a hand roughly through his hair. He began again, his tone laced with annoyance. “I came home from work—which was obviously my first mistake— and went in to change my clothes. I was going to the stables to work Hazard when I heard clattering and discovered a goat on the roof of my car. I yelled and clapped my hands to frighten it off. It scrambled for a second, slid down the windshield and collapsed.”

  “You frightened it, all right,” Anna agreed, then she took Nicole’s hand and led her to the car. “Nicole, Plague just fainted. Sometimes that happens when they’re startled. It’s rare, but not a bit fatal.” Turning back to Dusty, she asked, “Would you mind lifting him down to the grass?” Her relief was so great that her goat wasn’t dead that she was shaking—although she suspected that some of the shaking was caused by the scowl on her boss’s face. She hadn’t expected their goat discussion to begin quite this badly.

  As he hefted the ungainly animal in his arms and placed it on the ground, Anna inspected the Mercedes. There were deep dents and scratches in the paint from Plague’s hooves. Miserably, she turned to see Nicole kneel beside the goat. The girl squatted there, stroking its head and talking softly as it began to come to. With glistening eyes, she looked up and said, “Uncle Dusty?”

  He shifted his gaze from the goat to her. “Yes?” he said, and Anna was surprised by the gentleness in his tone.

  “I’m real sorry I hit you.”

  Dusty shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You were upset.”

  “I still love you, Uncle Dusty,” she murmured. And it wasn’t a lie. Anna could see the truth glimmering in her eyes.

  Dusty cleared his throat, and Anna had the feeling he was blushing under that tan. But his discomfort didn’t seem to last long, because he turned to her with a narrowed gaze and said, “Miss Andrews, I’d like to see you—in private.” Then he headed toward the stable. Before she followed, Anna said to Nicole, “Please ask Hunky or Flint to stake Plague in the pasture. That’ll keep him from straying.”

  The girl nodded and stood up as the goat struggled to its feet.

  “Plague,” Dusty muttered when she caught up to him. “Appropriate name.”

  “He’s not named that because he’s a bad goat,” she protested. “A plague is the term for a particular group of things. You know, like a gaggle is a group of geese. A plague is a group of—”

  “Goats?” he broke in sarcastically.

  “Very cute.” She was scared to death, but she refused to let him see it. “No, not a group of goats,” she corrected, unsure what difference it made at this point. “A plague is a group of—”

  “Andrewses?”

  She gritted her teeth and counted to ten. They’d reached the stable, and Anna flung herself in front of him to stop him from going any farther. “Look, Mr. Dare, I’m sorry about the damage Plague did to your car. I’ll pay for it.”

  He snorted derisively. “You’re building up quite a tab, Miss Andrews.” He started to say something else, then stopped and glanced away. His nostrils flared, and he seemed to be having some difficulty collecting himself. When he turn back, his expression was more resigned than angry. “Will you explain to me how I ended up with goat for a hood ornament?”

  “I will if you let me.”

  He crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”

  “Okay.” She dragged her upper lip between her teeth and took a deep breath. “They’re here because it’s my uncle’s way of thanking you for not calling the police about Steven. He was so proud he could do this for you that I couldn’t tell him to take them back. Don’t you see?” She blinked away tears of frustration. “Uncle Bud thinks goats are a plus, not a—”

  “Plague?” he supplied, but his tone wasn’t harsh.

  She swallowed, hard, and dropped her gaze to hide the tears that were threatening. “I... I was trying to figure out what to do with them. It’s just that I didn’t expect you back this early.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Nicole leading Plague toward the pasture. He was such a sweet goat. He wouldn’t hurt a flea—not on purpose, anyway. “You’re so stubborn,” she said bitterly. “If you’d just give them a try...”

  “What, Miss Andrews? I didn’t quite catch that.”

  She looked up at him, hoping her glistening eyes didn’t give away her anguish. “I said, if you’d just give them a try, you’d change your mind.”

  “You’re wrong, you know.”

  “I don’t know any such thing!”

  He must have seen Nicole’s movement across the lawn, too, for he glanced in that direction and was silent for a minute. Gesturing toward his niece, he asked, “What’s with her devotion to those damn things?”

  Anna shrugged. “I don’t know. It was like the kitten, I guess. Love at first sight. Goats are adorable animals, no matter what your opinion is.” She paused, grimacing. “Nicole thinks they’re hers.”

  He jerked back, eyeing her as though she’d shoved a gun into his ribs. “And you didn’t tell her any different?”

  She exhaled tiredly, recalling the happiness and gratitude in the girl’s e
xpression. “I guess I didn’t want to upset her.”

  He laughed curtly. “Why is it, Miss Andrews, that you worry about everyone’s feelings but mine?”

  She was at a loss. “I... I’ve never wanted to upset you, Mr. Dare. I’m here to help.” He raised an eyebrow, and the intensity she saw in his eyes made her shiver. Well, she’d pressed her luck pretty far and he hadn’t lost his temper, so she decided to press further. All he could do was say no— which she knew was very likely.

  “Mr. Dare, you came home early to work Hazard,” she began, her voice breathy and unsteady. “Why don’t we see who’s right and who’s wrong? Let me bring one of the goats to the round pen, and then you can work Hazard with him this evening. After that, whatever you decide, goes. Okay?”

  He scowled at her—a scowl undoubtedly designed to make her wither up and drift away like ash in the wind. But she refused to allow that look to affect her. She stood as tall and straight as she could, hoping he couldn’t see her legs shaking.

  When he said nothing, she turned on her heel. “I’ll go get one.” Then she headed for the pasture, hoping that a boot to her backside wouldn’t be her answer.

  “This is a waste of time,” he muttered behind her.

  She made no reply and kept on walking. Holding her breath, she took a dozen more steps, before yielding to the temptation to look back.

  He wasn’t there.

  She was stunned. He’d actually gone into the stable to saddle Hazard for a workout with one of her goats! Laughing in relief, she dashed off, a surge of joy filling her heart.

  EASING BACK into the relaxed pose of a confident cutter, Dusty sat astride Hazard, the hand that held the reins poised above the stallion’s neck and his heels pressed low in the stirrups.

  There was no sign of tension in his broad shoulders as he had the stallion walk toward the middle of the pen. Anna and Hunky were on foot, shooing Plague toward horse and rider and preventing him from escaping either through or over the pipe fence.

  Nicole and Thad sat on the top rail of the pen. Neither of them had ever seen a cutting horse in action, and both had expectant expressions on their faces. Thad grinned and winked at Anna, then sneezed so hard he almost fell over backward.