A Cowboy for Clementine (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Floyd, Susan

  “She was killed in an accident.”

  He saw that Clementine paled as she processed that bit of information.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.”

  “And you feel responsible for her death? That’s why you quit?”

  Such a simple question with such a complicated answer. Dexter’d forgotten that getting to know someone meant treading into murky, emotional areas that sometimes were better left alone.

  “It’s not that I feel responsible for her death.” He tried to explain, but words eluded him. He was responsible for her death. If he had said no, Joanna would never have gone with them. She would have stayed home. If he had said no, she and Randy would be married and they’d have a passel of kids. To Clem, he said, “She was a very independent girl. That’s what killed her. She’d have been better off if she’d stuck closer to home.”

  “But maybe that wasn’t what she wanted to do,” Clem said, her voice thoughtful. “Maybe the furthest thing from her mind was staying home.”

  “Maybe,” he acknowledged. Clem didn’t say anything that hadn’t been said to him before, but it didn’t make him feel better. It didn’t make him miss Joanna any less.

  “You can’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t help.” She touched his arm. “Accidents happen. She’d probably be mad at you for trying to take responsibility.”

  He didn’t comment, his attention caught by something in his peripheral vision.

  CLEM WATCHED DEXTER. Apparently there were things Dexter Scott didn’t want to talk about, either. He’d revealed very little, but she was sure that underneath his stoic exterior there was a cauldron of feelings that he couldn’t express. But she also knew that the more she pressed him, the more he would slip though her fingers.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Shh.” Dexter had lowered his voice to a whisper. “Right behind us.”

  Clem peeked over her shoulder, and sure enough two glittering eyes stared at her.

  “It’s as if she’s tracking us,” Clem said with a shiver.

  “Not likely. Cows are prey animals. They don’t track.”

  “Let’s walk forward and see what she does,” Clem suggested. “Then we can tell what she’s doing.”

  They walked about two hundred feet and heard wary rustling behind them.

  Clem looked back over her shoulder. “She’s following us. This happened last time.”

  “What happened?”

  “One charged me.”

  “This one?”

  Clem looked carefully. “Don’t know. Could be. All I know is it scared the pants off me.”

  “Let’s see what it does when it’s confronted,” Dexter said, turning Calisto. “Stay put.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Research,” he said, before spurring Calisto to a full run.

  Clem watched in horror and fascination as Dexter played a particularly dangerous game of chicken. With a cow that was up for the challenge. Like a bull, she bent her head, showed her large, pointed horns to advantage and charged. Dexter and Calisto veered at the last possible moment, Dexter’s leg coming close to her lethal horn.

  Clem was so intent on making sure Dexter was all right, she didn’t realize that the cow was heading straight at her.

  “Get out of there!” Dexter hollered.

  His words jerked her into motion and she spun Archie, who needed no more urging to get out of the way.

  “Go down the path,” Dexter directed.

  Clem did what she was told, not looking back. She could hear the pounding of the hooves behind her, getting closer and closer. Or maybe that was just her heart. This was precisely why she’d wanted to do paperwork today. She didn’t enjoy being chased by cows.

  There was a bellow of fury behind her and she jerked to a stop when she figured out the cow was no longer chasing her. Unbelievable. Dexter had roped the cow around her horns and he and Calisto were pulling her toward a grove of trees, away from Clem.

  The cow was not going without a fight, though, a noisy, roaring fight. Clem sat helpless, her heart pounding hard. What could she do to help? Her mind went blank.

  She was close to crying with the frustration of watching and not being able to do anything. Dexter’s mouth was set in a grim line and his eyes were narrowed as he and Calisto dragged the cow toward the trees, inch by painful inch, the muscles bulging in Calisto’s legs as she resisted the angry pull of the cow. Clem crossed her fingers, hoping the cow would tire itself out soon. However, the loud snorting of the animal made her think it wasn’t going to happen. The cow was mad.

  And clever.

  With no warning, it changed directions, crossing under Calisto. Clem screamed when she saw that the rope held taut by Dexter was about to be wrapped around Calisto’s neck. Without thinking, she spurred Archie toward Calisto, pulling out a small hunting knife from a pocket in her saddle. Inches away from the other horse, she hooked her foot in her stirrup and leaned over as far as she could to slice through Dexter’s rope.

  The force of the rope’s splitting sent them all flying. Within seconds the cow bellowed and took off through the trees.

  “Damn!” Dexter was on his feet in an instant. “What the hell did you think you were doing? You didn’t have to cut the line.”

  He stood towering over her. He extended his hand and Clem almost refused to take it. Almost. He hauled her to her feet.

  “You okay?” he asked, his voice gentling.

  “I’m fine. And you don’t have to swear at me,” Clem said as she brushed herself off. She looked around to find Archie and Calisto waiting patiently.

  He looked at her in surprise, his voice mild. “I wasn’t swearing at you.”

  “It sounded like you were.” Clem searched for her hat, seeing it a few yards away. She mimicked him, “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  He stared hard at her, uncomprehending.

  “What’s that, if it’s not swearing?” She couldn’t help the primness that had entered her voice. It masked the terror that had seized her when she’d thought Calisto was going to be beheaded before her eyes.

  “If you’re going to hang around with us,” Dexter said, his tone measured, “you’ll have to grow a slightly thicker skin.”

  “Or maybe you shouldn’t yell at me.”

  He cocked his head to the side as if he were trying to puzzle her out, much the way Cowchip did when she was telling the dog something. It was the look that said I know what she’s saying is important, but I’m not exactly sure what she means.

  “If whatever I said hurt your feelings, then that’s something you’ll have to get over,” Dexter informed her, and then added, his voice clipped, “It’s not all about you.”

  If her feelings weren’t hurt before, those words finished the job. Clem felt as if he’d just slapped her. Without replying, she mounted Archie and took off in the direction of the house. Dexter wasn’t far behind, Calisto easily keeping up with Archie’s trot.

  They rode that way for a long while, the tension between them remaining despite the beautiful scenery surrounding them. Clem sucked in some deep breaths, trying to regain control of herself. She’d overreacted. She knew that. But she still wanted him to hug her and tell her that she’d done a good job.

  It’s not all about you. Those words stuck in her mind, poking at her sense of herself. Of course, it wasn’t about her. She knew that, too.

  “I’m sorry if your feelings are hurt,” Dexter ventured after a while.

  She couldn’t look at him.

  “You could at least thank me,” she said, her voice clipped.

  “Thank you?” Dexter asked, puzzled.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She felt slightly better.

  There was another long minute.

  He cleared his throat. “Exactly what am I thanking you for?”

  Irritation ballooned inside Clementine. She stared at
him. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “I saved your horse.”

  “Okay.” It was almost as if she could see Dexter’s mind processing her words. He finally said, “So how exactly did you save ’Listo?”

  “I kept her from being garroted. Surely you realize the rope would have cut off her head.”

  “Of course.” He nodded.

  They rode another hundred yards in silence.

  Finally, Clem sneaked a glance in his direction and to her exasperation she saw that rare smile playing at the sides of his mouth.

  DEXTER TRIED TO HOLD BACK his amusement, but it was hard not to laugh at her grim expression. She was really too serious. His own pulse had calmed now that the incident was over. The truth was that he’d had every intention of cutting the cow loose. Given the location, he hadn’t believed he could tie it down, especially when he saw how much it fought.

  But she couldn’t have known that. She could only go by what she saw. There’d been panic in her eyes when she’d ridden at them, the knife clutched in her hand. If he hadn’t sliced the rope first, she would have probably gotten a good portion of his and Calisto’s leg. He supposed that he had sworn at her, but from the way her hand had been trembling when he’d helped her to her feet, he knew she was deeply shaken and that it was just as well for her to direct her fright at him and his perceived insult. If she was mad about something as trivial as swearing, she wouldn’t be thinking about how terrifying these cows of hers were.

  He would have to have some long discussions with Randy and Ryan. If this temperament was what they could expect in the others, then they would have to rethink how they were going to herd them. It also meant they’d have to do something about strays—any cows they couldn’t get in would pose a great threat to Clem’s future herds.

  “What’s so funny?” Clem asked, stopping his thoughts.

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “You’re laughing at me.” Her voice was accusing.

  “No.” He stared at her, his expression sobering. “I am very impressed with you and the fact you were able to get over half your herd in.”

  She met his gaze warily, then said, “It took me all summer and then some.”

  “You should have called for help earlier.”

  A glove hit him in the face. He caught it automatically.

  She scowled at him, taking off her other glove, prepared to whack him with it.

  He held up his hands with a defensive gesture. “Whoa. What did I say?”

  “Why don’t you listen to what I’ve said? I tried to get help. I called lots of cowboys and no one would take this on. Except you.”

  “Then you should have called me earlier.”

  She puffed out her cheeks. “Like you’re listed in the phone book. Do you know how hard you were to track down?”

  “I didn’t want to be found.”

  “Obviously. I went through a lot.”

  “Yet, you found me.” He held out her glove to her.

  SOME QUALITY IN HIS VOICE changed, and Clem wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  “I had to,” she said as she took the glove from him. “I just knew you could help me.”

  “How’d you know that?”

  She shook her head. “I guess when the other outfits called you crazy, I knew I needed someone crazy.”

  His lips twisted into a smile. “I guess you could call me that.”

  Then, just as quickly as he’d opened up, Dexter Scott shut down. “Race you to the barn,” he called as he pushed Calisto into a faster trot and took off.

  Clem laughed in exasperation and followed. She leaned across Archie’s neck and encouraged the horse to run as fast as he could. He responded, and soon the horses were side by side, their hooves thundering. Clem continued to whisper to Archie, and just as they reached the barn, Archie swept past Calisto. Clem screamed in celebration, her whooping startling the horses in the corral.

  Dexter reined in Calisto, and they trotted around the courtyard to cool the horses down.

  “You can ride,” Dexter said, his eyes filled with the same joy she felt.

  Out of breath, the thrill of racing still coursing through her, Clem basked in his admiration. “Yes.”

  “How long?”

  “Ever since I could sit up,” she said, her voice feeling light. She felt light, flippant. “No, not really, but I don’t remember learning how to ride. I’ve always ridden, and I’ve had Archie a long time. I just don’t know cows.”

  Dexter nodded. “But you will. You just need practice. You did good out there. Kept your head.”

  She slid off Archie and began to walk him around the courtyard. “That’s a first.” She laughed wryly. How many times had her ex-husband accused her of being terrible in a crisis? “My ex never thought so.”

  “He must not have known you very well.”

  The statement was too simple to be profound, but suddenly Clementine felt an overwhelming urge to cry. She stared at the cowboy who was dismounting next to her. How was he able to verbalize what she never even dared? How was it that she’d married a man who’d never really known her, had never even tried? It’s not all about you. Dexter’s words reverberated in her head. He was absolutely right. And that thought was simultaneously liberating and frightening.

  She swallowed hard and walked faster. She needed time alone to process what Dexter had just shown her. All the anxiety of this afternoon, the exhilarating highs and the terrifying lows, had accumulated in the back of her throat.

  “What?” he asked. “What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong again?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “You’re not going to cry or something, are you?”

  He sounded so uncertain she had to laugh. Here was a man who fearlessly wrestled feral cows for a living and yet seemed to dread little tears.

  “Do you mind?”

  “No. Not at all,” he said quickly, keeping stride with her.

  He was blurry because of the tears, but she smiled. “Liar.”

  “Sorry. Can I do anything?” he asked her in a practical voice.

  The tears spilled over. She was caught between tears and laughter. “I-it’s not something you need to fix. These are good tears. They’ll pass.”

  “But you look awful.” Dexter tilted up her chin and studied her face. “Your eyes are puffy, your nose is red. You need this.” He handed her his handkerchief. “You need to blow your nose.”

  She grimaced and took the hankie before turning her back to blow her nose.

  “So can you talk about what caused all this?”

  She shrugged. With the hankie bunched in her hand, she started to unsaddle Archie.

  “Let me,” he said. In a few quick movements he’d untied her knots and pulled the saddle off. “You’re incapacitated.”

  “Crying doesn’t make you incapacitated,” Clem protested. “It’s just crying. It’s releasing emotion. It’s a good thing. Didn’t you cry when your sister died?”

  Dexter’s face closed. He yanked the saddle off Calisto and began to brush her vigorously.

  Clem stopped sniffling and stared at him. “You cried for your sister, didn’t you?” she asked again softly.

  “This afternoon, we’re going to ride higher into the mountains. I think it would be a good idea if you stayed home.”

  Clem could feel the pain and grief emanate from him. “Crying really is a good thing,” she repeated.

  “Why don’t you go into the house? You look beat,” Dexter suggested, his voice clipped. “I’ll take care of Archie.”

  He’d shut down again, and Clem wished there was something she could do to help him release the pain. She couldn’t imagine bottling up all the emotion, all the grief. It explained a lot about Dexter Scott, but it didn’t make it clear why she needed to stay home when they went out this afternoon. If they were going up higher, they’d need her even more. She’d been exploring the mountains since she’d been all
owed to ride alone. She had a superb sense of direction. However, judging from Dexter’s erect posture and the force with which he brushed Calisto, Clem didn’t think this was the time to try to convince him. With a peculiar sense of sadness, she walked back to the house.

  DURING LUNCH, Randy, Ryan and Dexter talked cows. They compared notes and all came to the conclusion that they needed to check out the higher ground.

  “We scoped the whole valley, and we only saw the odd one or two. There’s not six hundred down here,” Randy said. He scooped up more potato salad.

  Clem was glad that he and Ryan were eating, because Dexter didn’t touch a morsel. He thanked her when she gave him a plate containing a roast beef sandwich and then put it aside.

  “I know there’s a pocket of them somewhere,” Ryan said.

  “How far could they go?” Clem asked.

  “Pretty far,” Randy said. “They’d follow either water or feed. So if you’ve got some small trickles in the mountains, they might be there. Or maybe they found themselves a watering hole.”

  “That’d make our job easier.”

  “Except,” Clem put in, “once you find them, you’ll need to get them down.”

  Ryan laughed. “We’ll worry about that once—if we find them.”

  “Ready?” Dexter pushed back his chair. “We’ve only got about five hours of daylight. I don’t want to be caught in the dark.”

  “I know my way around,” Clem hinted.

  “Yes.” Randy shoveled the rest of the potato salad in his mouth. “Let’s go.”

  Dexter addressed Clem without looking at her as he put his hat on, ignoring her hint. “We’ll be back before dark.”

  “You don’t need a guide?” Clem asked more directly.

  Randy started to nod, then Dexter cut him off. “No. We’re going to need to go a lot faster than we did this morning. You don’t want to push Archie too much. We’re taking fresh horses.”

  “Okay.” She did have that correspondence to do, but she still felt left out.

  “It’s just a quick trip,” Ryan assured her. “You’ll be included when we get to the fun part.”

  “Also, how many hands can you round up within the next three days?” Dexter asked.