The Final Turn (Cajun Cowboys Book 2)

by Patricia Watters

  Piper shrugged. "Thoroughbreds don't do so well in marshes so I've stuck to riding on the track or the dirt roads crisscrossing the cane field. Why?"

  "I thought you might want to come with me next week to move a small herd. You'd get a chance to ride a horse with cow sense and play around cuttin' some cattle. And I guarantee, you'd get your fill of adrenaline rushes. It would only be for a few hours after your mornin' workout."

  Piper had never given any thought to cowboying, but riding a horse with cow sense held a certain allure. "Would I have to sit in a stiff western saddle or could I use my racing saddle?"

  Ace laughed. "About five minutes in that tiny thing and you'll be hangin' onto the horse's neck wishin' you had a horn to hang onto instead. The first time your horse locks onto a cow, you won't know what hit."

  "So then it's all about communicating with your horse so you're ready."

  "No, it's about not interferrin' and lettin' your horse get the job done. A good cutter has so much instinct, focus, and self-motivation, all you do is show it which cow you want to cut, and boom, your horse'll take care of the rest. The hardest part's keepin' up."

  Visualizing what Ace described sent a spurt of adrenaline coursing through Piper. Before now she'd had no interest in western riding. It was always about racing thoroughbreds...

  Suddenly the end of her pole bent down sharply. "Oh my gosh! I caught a fish!" she cried, as something tugged on her line, something big, and strong, and putting up a fierce fight.

  She started to yank it out of the water when Ace wrapped his arms around her, covering her hands with his, and said, "Don't jerk your line or you'll tear the hook out of the fish's mouth and lose him. You gotta wait till he's taken the bait. Once your bobber's gone under, count to twenty, which gives the fish time to get a good hold on the bait."

  Piper tried to follow what Ace was saying, but sitting with his arms wrapped snugly around her while trying to hook the fish was distracting, sending her heart fluttering, and her breath quickening, and her mind focusing on things that had nothing to do with catching the fish.

  "Okay, you've got him. Pull him in." Ace released her hands and moved his arms from around her, leaving Piper alone to haul in a fish that felt as if it weighed twenty pounds.

  After scrambling to her feet, she raised the pole high with both hands while lifting out of the water a thrashing, twisting, glistening fish that was fighting valiantly and with every ounce of its strength, for its life. On lowering the thing to the pier, it jumped and flopped and finally lay with its head down, one eye peering hopelessly upward while taking in deep, gulping breaths.

  "We can't just let it die," she said, while eyeing the poor struggling creature with its shimmering silvery-gray back and pearly white belly and delicate spines down its backbone, a perfectly-formed living thing that only was asking for a little more time to live out its life.

  "I can chop off its head with a machete if you want," Ace suggested.

  "No, I want to throw it back."

  Ace looked at her as if she'd lost it. "I thought you wanted to take it home and cook it."

  "I did, but that was before I caught it."

  "Then if you want to throw him back, maybe we should take him to the vet first and have his mouth stitched up."

  "No, that's not necessary we can just—" Piper stopped short and looked up to find a wide, twinkle-eyed grin.

  Dark eyes glittering with amusement, Ace said, "You've never fished before have you."

  "I… Well… That is. Maybe not. But I want to throw this poor thing back."

  Ace watched as the fish gave one final feeble flop, then scooping it up, he dislodged the hook and said, "So long buddy. You would've made a good courtbouillon."

  He tossed it into the bayou, then taking the pole from Piper, he set it aside and pulled her into his arms, kissing her long and lingeringly, to which Piper responded by threading her fingers in his hair and kissing him back. When the kiss was spent, he said, "That was the dangest thing I've ever done. Mary and the rest of my family would be questionin' my sanity about this time. And now I want to know something."

  Her arms still around Ace's neck, Piper said, "What's that?"

  "Why you pretended you could fish."

  "I figured you'd think it odd I'd lived on a bayou and river all my life and never had."

  "In other words, you pretended because you wanted to impress me."

  "No!"

  Ace grinned. "I'll give you a clue, chère. I'm already impressed, not only with your dead-center aim at lancing rings, and your bulldog tenacity to ride thoroughbreds with the boys, but also with your attempt to catch a fish. But one of these days I'll take you out and teach you to fish with a power spinnin' rod with a bait castin' reel."

  "Then you don't normally use a cane pole?" Piper asked.

  Ace chuckled. "Only when sittin' on a pier with a beautiful female jockey who's tryin' to impress me."

  Piper looked into eyes dancing with devilment. "You are so full of yourself."

  "I know." Linking his hands behind her waist, he kissed her lightly, and said, "I hate to break this up but I've got some cattle that need vaccinatin' and a couple of brothers at the stock barn wonderin' where I am about now."

  "And I've got a couple of horses to exercise at our place," Piper said.

  They turned to go, but on the edge of the woods where the path to the bayou opened into the pasture, Ace took Piper by the arm, and said, "How about one last kiss for the road."

  "This isn't a road. It's a field."

  "Then let's pretend. It's all about bein' good neighbors."

  Piper laughed and put her arms around Ace's neck. "Yeah, right. Good neighbors." The kiss that followed had Piper's mind spinning in a dozen different directions. What was she doing? Why was she doing it? Why did she want to keep the kiss going? How could a pair of arms feel so solid, and so… right? Why was she feeling lightheaded, like her chest was about to explode…

  She broke the kiss abruptly and sucked in a lungful of air. "Good grief."

  Ace laughed. "I'm thinkin' the same thing." He took her hand and started down the trail leading along the horse pasture. "I'm also thinkin' we made a little headway. We could be the generation to stop the feud."

  "That's all well and good, but I'm not ready for gossip to start rippling from here through your place and across the cane field, so it's time to unlink." She pulled her hand from his. "A little show of affection's fine, but from here on out I want to keep some space between us."

  "What happened to livin' your life the way you want?"

  "I am."

  "By not holdin' my hand?"

  "By not holding it right now. Besides, I have some thinking to do and my mind gets muddled if there's too much coziness."

  "Too much coziness with me or with men in general?"

  "That's a loaded question. First off, as a female jockey I don't exactly fight men off, and second, this thing with us is pretty new. I need some time for it to simmer down."

  "Okay, I'll back off, but I still want you to try your hand at ridin' a horse with cow sense and helpin' me move a herd down to the marshes. It'll open up a whole new world to you."

  Piper didn't doubt that for an instant. Spending an afternoon riding through prairie and marsh while cowboying with Ace would spin her world a hundred-and-eighty degrees around, and she couldn't decide if that was a plus or a minus. All she knew was there would be a change because every minute she spent with Ace things seem to change. Her awareness of his presence. The little things she hadn't noticed before, like the curls near the base of his neck she'd toyed with when she kissed him, and the glint in his eyes when he was amused, like when he teased her into confessing she'd never fished, and the way his arms and body enfolded her when he kissed her, like being embraced by a big friendly bear.

  "You're not talkin'. Does that mean you're not game to ride a horse with cow sense?"

  "No, I was thinking about something else. And yes, I'll help you move the herd
. It sounds challenging."

  "Good. So, what was the something else you were thinkin' about?"

  Piper had no intention of revealing her budding feelings for him, so she brought up what had been nagging her from the time she realized she might be given the chance to race Rags. "I was just wondering… If your grandfather decides to let me run Rags, does he have any racing silks my size?"

  "No, but when the time comes we'll work somethin' out."

  "You talk like it's going to happen, me racing Rags."

  "That's because you have me thinkin' that way. And when you're headin' down the homestretch, I'll be yellin' louder than anyone. Now give me a kiss for havin' faith in you."

  Piper looked toward the corral where Pike and Hank stood with some stock. Seeing neither looking their way, she placed her hands on Ace's chest, raised on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss, the briefness of it leaving her feeling empty. And the feeling remained as they walked together without touching, all the while her mind was filled with images of kissing Ace the way it had been at the edge of the woods, with his body enveloping hers.

  The last thing Ace said before joining his brothers was, "Think about the match race on Sunday. If you get a chance to run it'll help convince my grandfather that you're his jockey, and we could dance in the shed row again."

  "I'll give the match race some thought," Piper said, but she didn't commit to dancing with Ace afterwards.

  She felt like she was on a cogwheel and couldn't get off. She had some serious thinking to do, and she needed to put a little distance between them to make sense of it all, but she wanted to close that gap so the serious thinking would cease and she could let thing stake a natural course, which brought her back to the beginning. A female jockey with a bright future ahead.

  CHAPTER 12

  By the day of the match races, Piper's reasoning powers were embroiled in a battle, one side urging her to go with hopes of jockeying a horse and leave right afterwards, the other side telling her to put on the flowery dress and show up at the fais do-do where she and Ace could slip off to the stable and nestle together on a bed of fresh rice straw and cuddle and kiss till the band stopped playing. Or she could take a neutral position and head over to Anne's where she could play with Joey and visit with Anne and hope Ace wouldn't pop in. Seeing him would deactivate her logical mind and she'd find herself acting like a girly girl.

  To make sure she stayed on the match race path, she changed into riding pants, a work shirt, and riding boots so she'd be ready if someone cancelled. She'd leave right after, no dancing with Ace in the shed row, no hugging and kissing while trying to convince herself she didn't want to experience those big hands stroking her back, or feel those masculine lips on hers, or hear the kind of words a Cajun man might whisper to his lady love in the privacy of an empty stall.

  Forcing aside those thoughts, she put her helmet, safety vest, and racing saddle into a gunny sack, tossed in Rags's squeaky chicken along with a plastic bag with carrots, and slinging the sack over her shoulder, cut through the cane field toward the Broussards.

  When she arrived at Anne's she found Anne in the kitchen with oven mitts on while placing the second of two pecan pies in the oven, no doubt for the fais do-do, and Joe entertaining Joey on the floor, both of them moving plastic horses and cowboys through plastic-fenced enclosures that held several plastic cows, and into a barn Joe made out of scraps of plywood, leftovers from paneling their laundry room two years before.

  Seeing her standing in the doorway, Joey rushed over, and raising his hands, said to her, "Tante Pip. Be a horse."

  "A racehorse or a bronc?" Piper asked.

  "A bronc like Daddy rides."

  "Okay, get ready to hop aboard and be prepared to hold on." Piper dropped to her hands and knees while the toddler climbed up and straddled her for an energetic ride of bucking and bouncing around the living room, the activity sending Joey into squeals of laughter.

  Ten minutes later, the activity having finally run its course, Joe said to his son, "Tee Joe, we've gotta check fences before the match races, so get your hat and boots and give Momma and Tante Pip a hug and let's get goin'."

  Piper loved it that Joe took Joey in the saddle in front of him to do their "ranch work," as Joe called it. He was a model dad who was eagerly awaiting the arrival of his little daughter, having been the one to select her name. Before leaving, he said to Piper, "You comin' to the match races this afternoon?"

  Piper nodded. "I'll pop in to let the powers that be know I'm available if someone doesn't show. That quarter mile sprint sounds pretty adrenaline-charged."

  Joe laughed, hoisted Joey over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and left.

  After Piper and Anne settled on the couch with cups of tea while waiting for the pies to cook, Anne said to Piper, "Are you serious about running in a match race?"

  "Sure, if I can. Ace said sometimes a rider doesn't show."

  "Then you brought your safety equipment? Henri won't let anyone ride without it."

  "It's all in a sack on your front porch, along with carrots for Rags, and her squeaky chicken."

  Anne laughed. "The guys are still chuckling about that, and about the three buddies chasing the ball around the pasture. It must have been hysterical."

  "It was. It was also Ace's idea to get the balls for Rags, which kind of surprised me."

  Anne looked at her, curious. "Why?"

  Piper gave a little shrug. "I don't know. It just seemed out of character."

  "What, that the Broussard boys are actually kind of cool dudes?"

  "Maybe. Ace seems different from the rest. He's good with Rags."

  "He's actually good with a lot of things," Anne said.

  "Things like what?" As soon as she asked, Piper hoped Anne didn't read anything into it, like she was digging for information about a man she was becoming increasingly more drawn to as the days went by, even while she was fighting the attraction with everything she had.

  "He's a master at carving decoy ducks. You should see them. Art gallery quality."

  Piper envisioned Ace's hands, large strong hands that seemed capable of wrestling a steer to the ground for branding, but she couldn't picture those same hands doing delicate carving, though they'd been anything but steer-wrestling mitts when he toyed with the collar of her dress, which had her pondering their kiss at the bayou and the silly fishing episode...

  "Why are you smiling?" Anne asked.

  "Oh… umm, I was just trying to picture the Broussards sitting around carving ducks."

  "Just Ace, but that's not all. He's building a house. It's not big but it's unique, and like he said, it's expandable after he gets married and starts having kids."

  "Then he must have a girlfriend," Piper said, a knot twisting in her stomach at the thought of Ace with a woman, especially after the way he'd been acting toward her, like she was special.

  "He did when he started the house a couple of years back, but after she broke off the engagement he quit the project and swore off women. Then out of the blue he's started in again, hauling to the building site all the old windows and doors he'd refurbished earlier and stashed in the barn, along with an assortment of structural pieces like beams and rafters, all piled high in his truck, load after load, every day when he's through with ranch work, like he's on a mission. We're all wondering if he's got a buckle bunny waiting in the wings."

  "What's a buckle bunny?" Piper asked, still troubled with the idea of Ace with a woman.

  Anne snickered. "That's rodeo lingo for women who follow rodeos in hopes of trapping a champion rider, mainly they're after their winning buckles. I've watched them at rodeos and they make no bones about what they want, first to get those cowboys in their beds, then to leave with their big fancy silver buckles the next morning. It's kinda comical watching them shimmying and gyrating while they talk to the guys leaving the arena after their events."

  "And you've seen them doing that with Joe?" Piper asked, clueless when it came to rodeos, having nev
er been to one.

  "Oh no, not Joe. He's off limits because he's married. Bunnies only go after the single guys, like Ace, who are available and still winning buckles."

  "Ace has buckles?" Piper asked.

  Anne nodded. "Quite a few. He's pretty amazing at bareback bronc riding. I saw him a couple of months back and he won another buckle."

  "And there were bunnies to greet him afterwards?" Piper asked.

  "Oh yeah, but he didn't give them the time of day. Ace is really a pretty straight guy, a one-woman man, not a guy to stray because a pretty face with curves to match catches his eye."

  "What happened to the woman he was building the house for?" Piper asked, hoping Anne didn't detect the waver in her voice, but she found the thought of Ace engaged to a woman disconcerting.

  "She joined a country and western band and is traveling around the country. She never would've done well with Ace. For her, career came first, and Ace is a typical Cajun—someone who'll be a devoted husband and dedicated family man. A true, dyed-in-the-wool homebody."

  "In other words, whoever he marries needs to be barefoot and pregnant. No career, no outside job. Just be home to feed him, clean his house, and warm his bed."

  Anne pursed her lips. "You've got a very stereotypical image of Cajun men. What Ace wants is someone who loves ranch life and riding horses as much as he does, who'll share with him the joys and burdens of marriage, including keeping house, raising the kids and even herding cattle on occasion. That's the way it is with Joe and me and I wouldn't trade it for anything."

  "Then you've herded cattle?" Piper asked, bringing to mind the day she'd be spending with Ace moving a small herd.

  "I've done it a few times and it's fun and exciting. But my point is, Ace'll be a devoted husband for some lucky girl, and hopefully he'll choose better next time."

  Piper curbed the urge to ask a gazillion questions about the woman Ace had been engaged to. Was she pretty? Was she smart? Had he acted like a love-sick puppy around her? And now, after hearing Anne's glowing account about Ace, she wasn't so sure she wanted to go home after the match races. The desire to dance in the shed row was becoming increasingly more alluring.