Taming The Brooding Cattleman

by Marion Lennox

  He eyed her with disbelief. She eyed him right back.

  He took a beer bottle from the fridge and handed it to her.

  She raised one eyebrow, knocked the top off on the corner of the battered table and drank a quarter of the bottle without stopping.

  He couldn’t help himself. He grinned.

  So did she.

  ‘You sure your daddy wasn’t right and you’re a guy, after all?’ he demanded, and she chuckled. It was a great sound, he thought. An amazing sound. It filled the old kitchen with a warmth it hadn’t known for years.

  It had never known.

  Insidious.

  He was not about to be sucked in by a woman’s laughter.

  She was drinking beer. She was smiling.

  They ate on and he thought...insidious.

  He finished. Started clearing. ‘Go to bed,’ he growled. ‘You’ll still be jet-lagged. I’ll fix the dishes after I’ve checked the horses.’

  ‘Nope,’ she said, and cleared her own things. ‘We’ll fix the dishes after we’ve checked the horses.’

  ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘I’m a vet,’ she said. ‘Sancha’s my patient.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ he said, more brusquely than he intended, but she beamed as if he’d said he wanted her to go with him.

  Why would she beam if he said that?

  It was too hard. He was way out of his comfort zone. He grabbed his hat and headed out into the night, leaving Alex to follow if she wanted.

  It was nothing to him if she did or if she didn’t.

  Liar.

  But it had to be nothing.

  * * *

  The night was warm and still. The horses were in their stall, totally at peace. Sancha looked up as he approached and gave a gentle whinny of recognition but she didn’t move. She had her foal. All was right in her world.

  At least he still had his horses.

  He thought back to his shock when he’d arrived back here. When he realised how much Brian had been stealing.

  His grandfather had hated Jack. When he’d taken Sophie away he’d told him he wanted nothing more to do with him, ever. Yet for all Jack’s time in the city, the thought of the horses had stayed with him, vaguely comforting. In the awful times with Sophie, he’d known the horses were still here and the knowledge helped.

  But they were only just here. Brian had been siphoning funds every way he knew how. After his grandfather died, when he hadn’t left a will so Jack had inherited by default and started asking for accounts, Brian had told him he was paying for farmhands—but not. He’d told him he was maintaining the place but not. The only thing he had maintained was horse care. He’d still bred and sold the great Werarra stockhorses.

  Maybe he knew if the horses had been maltreated Jack would come after him with a gun.

  Melodramatic? Maybe not.

  He thought of Brian and felt again the surge of the anger he’d felt as he drove unexpectedly through the gates and seen what was left of the farm.

  He thought of Brian’s wife the day Brian had fled. Another woman. A trail of fraud.

  Brenda had been gutted. He’d done what he could to help, but...

  But the judgement in Alex’s eyes said it wasn’t enough.

  Brian’s wife and family were none of his business. He was letting her stay in the house rent free. What else could he do?

  But he’d been shocked seeing Oliver today. Why was he hungry?

  And Alex’s judgement...

  Yeah, he’d have to go over there. Throw some more money at it. Make the problem disappear.

  ‘Oliver is all ready to idolise you,’ Alex said from behind him, and he stilled. He’d hoped she wouldn’t follow. What was she doing, acting as his conscience? He did not need a chirpy vet from Manhattan telling him what to do. ‘He’s been watching you with the horses. He thinks you’re great.’

  ‘Oliver is nothing to do with me,’ he snapped.

  ‘I’ve heard Australia has a decent welfare system,’ she said as if she hadn’t heard him. ‘I wonder what the problem is?’

  ‘I’ll fix it,’ he said, far more savagely than he meant to. ‘They can’t stay here if she can’t manage. I’ll organise their transport back to the city.’

  ‘That’ll help. Get the problem off your patch.’

  ‘I’m paying their rent. What else do I have to do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said evenly. ‘Talk to them for a start. Find out what’s going on.’

  ‘I’ll do that in the morning.’

  ‘In your current mood you’ll be offering removal vans.’

  ‘This is not your business.’

  ‘The kid’s starving,’ she said evenly. ‘Of course it’s my business.’

  He raked his hair. She was right.

  Was she going to be right for six months? A chirpy little conscience, telling him to get involved.

  And it was working. He should have been involved, anyway. He knew Brenda was isolated. He knew she was a single mum with a husband who’d robbed her blind.

  He knew she was needy.

  He felt his fists clench. He did not need this. He did not need anyone to depend on him.

  ‘We’ll just go see,’ Alex said cheerfully. ‘You never know, it might be simple, like a broken-down car and she can’t get to the shops. I can fix the car while you go shopping.’

  ‘Alex...’

  ‘If you didn’t want me to get involved you should never have left me alone with Oliver,’ she said evenly. ‘He’s a great kid. The best. And he’s desperate for help. I’m out there on a limb for him, whatever you do or don’t do. Will we go over in the morning?’ She met his gaze and held. ‘It’s Sunday. Day of rest. I can work if you like but it’s time and a half, and time off in lieu during the rest of the week. Plus if I work when I’ve been wounded while working—’

  ‘You’ve been reading—’

  ‘My employment contract,’ she said happily. ‘It was a very long plane ride.’ She grinned at him. ‘Boss,’ she said.

  Boss.

  He’d sent her the standard employment contract he used for his IT company. It was meant for city workers. He hadn’t thought this through.

  She was employed for forty hours a week. For forty hours a week he had control. The rest of the time she’d be living with him but she was free to do what she liked.

  Like interfere with his life.

  He was being melodramatic again. She was wanting to check on a kid she’d met. Fine. She could come along for the ride. She could watch while he did whatever had to be done.

  She’d want what was best for the kid.

  So did he, he thought, as long as it didn’t involve him.

  Oliver’s all ready to idolise you. He knew it. He could see the need.

  He didn’t want it.

  He’d done enough caring to last a lifetime and it had achieved nothing.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ Alex said, still watching his face. ‘What time are we going tomorrow?’

  ‘Ten,’ he said, because there was no choice.

  ‘Great.’ She stooped and fondled the little foal. ‘Okay, then, everything’s settled. Wake me if you need me.’

  ‘I won’t need you.’

  ‘I thought that was why you employed me,’ she said softly. ‘But have it your way.’ Then she rose and smiled at him. ‘Don’t be grumpy,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t suit you. Good night.’

  And she was gone, closing the stable door behind her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SHE was up at dawn. He was out in the stables when he saw her leave the house. She was wearing jeans, T-shirt and riding boots. Her curls were caught back in a simple tie.

  She whistled as she heade
d down to the creek and he felt an almost irresistible urge to join her. To walk along the creek and show her the property. To introduce her to the horses in the upper paddocks.

  He didn’t. He was cleaning out the stalls. Sancha was the first of a dozen mares due to foal in the next few weeks. He needed to get his nursery ready.

  He’d have Alex here for the foaling.

  The thought was both good and bad. To have a vet on hand was great. To have a chirpy blonde conscience was less than great.

  He hoped she’d have a really long walk. He hoped she’d give him some space in the morning—but he was unaccountably peeved that she did.

  She returned half an hour before they were due to leave for Brenda’s, strolling up from the creek, looking windblown and flushed. She had grass seeds in her hair.

  He came out of the stables and saw her crossing the yard and something inside him stilled. She was here, in his home.

  She looked like she belonged.

  She saw him. ‘It’s magic,’ she called. ‘It’s utterly, wonderfully magic. I might even have stayed here if you hadn’t fixed the plumbing.’

  ‘Liar.’

  She grinned. ‘Yeah, okay, maybe not. Oh, but, Jack, it’s fabulous. And the horses... I need you to introduce me. I said good-morning to everyone, but it was really hard when I didn’t have names.’

  ‘You’ll learn soon enough,’ he growled, thinking six months... Six months when she looked like this...

  ‘Did you get out of bed on the wrong side again?’ she demanded, and he winced. Was he so obvious?

  ‘I’m always grumpy.’ Why not say it like it is?

  ‘Whoops,’ she said cheerfully. ‘But I’ll ignore it. My dad says my whistling in the morning drives him crazy, but it’s never stopped me. Can we ride over to Oliver’s now?’

  He’d like to see how she could ride. Her references said she could, but then... ‘I’ve saddled Cracker for you,’ he said, motioning to the two horses saddled and ready to go.

  ‘Well, hi.’ She approached both horses with just the right amount of quiet and confidence. In a minute they were her new best friends, with her rubbing just the right spots of both horses at once. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she said cautiously. ‘Your ride’s the two-year-old with spirit and Cracker’s the rocking horse.’

  She was good. A minute and she had them both summed up. Maestro was his favourite mount, a spirited yearling just broken. Cracker was getting on for twenty. He’d been his grandfather’s mount in his old age.

  ‘No offence, Cracker,’ she said, rubbing the old horse’s ear just where he most loved to be scratched. ‘But your owner’s wanting to test my riding skill and he won’t test anything if I’m sitting on you.’ She swung herself up into Cracker’s saddle with the skill of someone who’d spent years on horseback. ‘What say we take you for a ride up the back paddock before we go, and swap you for someone who needs a good, hard ride. Which is what I’m aching for. Or alternatively, Jack could ride you.’

  ‘I won’t have you risking your neck,’ Jack growled.

  ‘If you wanted a girl, you should have advertised for one,’ she said evenly. ‘I applied for a job as hand on a horse stud. You think I’d have done that if I didn’t love horses?’

  ‘Stockhorses are different from horses you’ll have ridden.’

  ‘Which is why I want to ride them,’ she said evenly. ‘Don’t patronise me, Jack. Let me ride.’

  * * *

  They rode together to the top paddock where he kept the best of his stockhorses, those who were almost ready to sell. For many of his horses the initial training was done here, and Brian had managed to at least maintain that. They couldn’t be trained to perfection—a decent stockhorse took years—but by the time they left they knew the rudiments of working with stock.

  His grandfather had prided himself on never having a horse returned. Thankfully Brian’s skills with horses had not been compromised by his dubious accounting practices so Werarra’s reputation had kept going, and Jack had no intention of letting it slip.

  Training took time, though, and energy, which was why the house was looking pretty much as it had when he’d walked back in. His horses came first.

  They did for Alex, too. She rode Cracker a little way ahead of him and he watched her hands, her seat, the way her eyes covered the ground in front, searching for traps like rabbit holes. She tossed a few comments over her shoulder as she rode, seemingly relaxed, but he knew her horse was her first priority.

  By the time they reached the top paddock he was almost looking forward to seeing her on a decent ride.

  A decent stockhorse might dent her confidence, he thought, and uncharitably he thought it mightn’t hurt that confidence to be dented. She was too...perky. She thought the world was a great place, that nice things happen to nice people, that life was fair.

  He knew who her father was. Her people had serious money. This woman would have had everything she wanted, from birth.

  Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to challenge her with one of his decent colts. A colt with a bit of spirit?

  Not a rocking horse. He felt himself grin.

  ‘You planning on teaching me a lesson?’ she threw over her shoulder.

  What? How the...? How did she know what he was thinking? She was in front of him, looking away. She hadn’t even seen his face.

  She could read him.

  The thought was so disconcerting he didn’t know how to handle it.

  ‘You asked for a stockhorse, I’ll give you a stockhorse,’ he said through gritted teeth, and she waved without looking back at him.

  ‘Hooray. Thank you. Cracker, old boy, I’m sorry I won’t be riding you. Let’s have a bit of a gallop now. Are you up for it?’

  And Cracker flattened his ears and showed he was.

  She only had to ask, Jack thought grimly as he watched her fly across the paddock ahead of him. A Manhattan princess, she only had to ask and the world gave her what she wanted.

  * * *

  These were young horses and spirited. They were roaming free in the huge top paddock where the boundaries were so far apart you could stand in the middle and not see a fence. The country was wild and undulating. It was a magic place for a young horse to be, but catching them, bringing them in, would be a skill in itself.

  Alex sat on Cracker while Jack headed down the paddock, holding back, letting his horse do the approaching, letting the young horses sense Jack was simply an extension of the horse he was on.

  That’s what he looked like.

  Ellie and Matt, always the protective older siblings, had done a bit of research on this man before she’d come. Jack had left the farm when he was seventeen. He’d moved to the city, into IT. He’d created a company her brother told her was competitive on the world stage. He’d stepped aside as working head only a few months ago.

  She’d hardly expected him to be here, or if he was, it’d be in an owner/supervisor role. She hadn’t expected...this.

  Wherever he’d been for the past few years, he hadn’t lost his skill with horses. He was approaching the cluster of yearlings now, and the young horses were starting to edge away.

  He moved almost before she knew his intentions, his horse speeding, turning, cutting off a young horse before it realised what was happening. Catching its bridle and reassuring it. Settling.

  He made it look easy, she thought, stunned. He was leading the young horse back to her already. If it was Alex doing the fetching she’d still be galloping after it.

  Did she have the skills for this job?

  She didn’t have the skills of this man.

  He led the young horse to her, slipped off his horse and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You want to swap the saddle with you still on it?’

  She felt like an idiot. She slipped from the saddl
e, and reached for the buckles.

  Jack was before her. The saddle was clear, the blanket lifted across, the saddle set on her new mount—and she was just in the way.

  ‘This is Rocky,’ he said. ‘Grandson of Cracker. He’s frisky. You sure you can handle him?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  He linked his hands but she shook her head. Rocky was big by stockhorse standards but she had no trouble swinging herself into the saddle.

  And all at once she felt...different. Rocky was a fabulous mount, gleaming black, young and eager. This was a fabulous place, a fabulous day, her horse was gorgeous...and Jack was looking at her and smiling.

  ‘You think you have his measure?’

  ‘We’ll see,’ she said, thinking she had.

  ‘Remember he doesn’t know how to curve. He stops and spins. And you’re not wearing a seatbelt. Take him for a canter round the paddock. Nice and slow. Beware rabbit holes.’

  ‘Teach your grandmother to suck eggs,’ she said, and grinned, and gathered the reins and touched Rocky’s gleaming flanks. ‘Let’s go.’

  * * *

  Okay, she wasn’t quite a Manhattan princess. He’d been gobsmacked with her veterinarian skills. Now, he watched her ride and she was simply an extension of Rocky. Girl and horse moved seamlessly together, as if they’d worked and trained together for years.

  Rocky was young and willful. He’d expected it’d take her a while to settle him, but she had his measure from the get-go.

  She walked him a little way, and he saw her speaking to the horse, bending so he’d hear, and he thought, Horse whisperer. This skill to communicate, to settle fractious horses, to make them feel like she was in control but it was pure pleasure to submit...

  His grandfather had had it and it was the only thing he’d loved about the brutal old man. He’d thought he had it himself, but the years away from the farm had dulled his skills, his instincts. He’d get there again, he thought, but meanwhile...

  Meanwhile he had this woman who could do anything she wanted with a horse.

  Except....

  She’d allowed Rocky to move to a canter. She was heading along the long south boundary and he saw the moment she decided it was safe, she was in control, she could fly.