“Somehow my boot slipped out of the stirrup or I might’ve broken my tibia or fibula and cracked my femur instead of just ripping the shit outta the ligaments in my right knee and fracturing my ankle. I thought Jezebel was okay because it didn’t take her long to get up after the spill. Her body was a blur as she raced off. Then she made the most god-awful high-pitched cry I’ve ever heard. I freaked out, and tried to chase after her, but I crumpled into a heap. Somehow I forced myself to get up and walk.”
Fletch had read the online articles about what’d happened, but even knowing how it’d played out didn’t lessen the impact or the horror of what Tanna was about to say.
“Jezebel had kept goin’ after she got up, running out of the arena like she’d always been trained to. No one knows for sure if her initial injury happened in the arena or if she’d stumbled into a hole during her break for freedom and made it worse, but her hind leg snapped above the hock—as you know a compound fracture isn’t fixable. The only thing that did stop her was her reins got caught on a metal fissure in the pens behind the arena—which was just another freaky thing. She panicked even more when she couldn’t get free. She couldn’t rear up. She didn’t know what was goin’ on and I wasn’t around to calm her down.”
His heart dropped to the tips of his boots.
Tanna swallowed hard. “Jezebel was a high-strung horse. The worst part was I saw the whole thing happen. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t even help her. When the med techs came over, they were all fired up because they thought I’d just dislocated my shoulder when I hit the dirt—they didn’t know my right leg was useless because of multiple injuries and I wouldn’t let them touch me.”
His guts twisted into a knot. She’d suffered through three major injuries at one time. “I dislocated my shoulder in high school during a football game. Hurt like a bitch when they reset it.”
“I don’t even remember them resetting my shoulder. They knocked me out. I’d become hysterical after they wouldn’t let me near Jezebel. When I woke up, no one would tell me what’d happened to my horse. Finally, the next day, Ralph Costas, the rep for the owners, showed up in my hospital room and laid it out for me. I guess one of the bulldoggers who also used one of the owners’ horses for competition had called them.” Tanna’s hands balled into fists. “Ralph told me after the accident, Jezebel was confused and in a lot of pain so the vet tranqued her to reduce her stress level. They had no choice but to put her down. Everyone says it was easier—better—for me not to be there, but dammit, I should’ve been. After all we’d been through . . . I let Jezebel down.
“I spent the next two weeks in a fog of pain meds after the ACL tear repair surgery on my knee, having my arm in a sling and my ankle in a cast.” Tanna dropped her chin. “I’d lost everything, so in some ways, bein’ out of it for those two weeks was a blessing. I haven’t been able to get on—or even near—a horse since.”
Fletch didn’t offer her platitudes. But he did know how to offer her comfort and that’s what she needed right now. He scooted out of the booth and threw cash on the table. He held out his hand to her. “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”
She didn’t protest. She grabbed his hand, letting him lead her outside.
Rain fell softly, in a foggy mist rather than a steady downpour.
As soon as they were out of the glare of the diner’s front windows, he gently folded her into his arms. Tanna squirmed. He merely pulled her closer and murmured, “Hush. Let it go. There’s nobody here but us.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“Why are you bein’ so nice to me after I told you—”
He kissed her forehead. “Because I am a nice guy. And because I really like you.”
She buried her face into his chest. She didn’t sob, even when he suspected she wanted to. Tanna just held him tightly, her palms flat on the middle of his back. Her fingers flexing and kneading like a cat digging its claws into his flesh.
Finally she raised her head. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry.”
She looked confused. “For what?”
“This.” He dropped his mouth over hers, taking the kiss he’d been dying for. Her surprised gasp gave him easy access past her trembling lips and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth.
She tasted so sweet—tea and Tanna. And she gave herself over to the kiss, just like she’d given all of herself over to him the night they’d wound up in bed. Part of him wanted to crank the kiss to the combustible stage, where the steam rising off their bodies wasn’t from the rain, but from lust. Yet, for all her bold sex talk, right now Tanna was as skittish as a new colt. He wouldn’t give her a reason to flee. So he kept the kiss easy. Slow and thorough. A first-date kiss, because in his mind, that’s what this was.
Tanna retreated first. She tipped her head back to look at him.
Tiny drops of mist clung to her long eyelashes. With those enormous brown eyes, dark hair curled around her heart-shaped face and her well-kissed lips, she was so damn beautiful, looking at her stole his breath.
“That went beyond a friendly kiss, Doc.”
“Yeah, well . . .” He had no real defense so he didn’t offer one. “You’re the prime example of why the words hot and mess go together so well.”
She looked shocked for a second. Then she shook her head. “You’re possibly the only man on the planet who could say that to me and I’m not tempted to knee you in the ’nads.”
That sassy mouth made him smile. “That’s why we should hang out more often. In places besides bars.”
“Anything but horseback riding.”
Fletch framed her face in his hands. Before he could assure her that she didn’t have to be flip with him, that he’d be there for her anytime she needed him, she spoke.
“You’re not laughing.”
His thumbs swept across her cheekbones. “Because I don’t think you were trying to be funny.”
Tanna moved her head, forcing his hands to fall away. “What is it with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You like to badger me about stuff and I let you. But it doesn’t piss me off like when other people do it to me.”
“See? We’ve already got that goin’ for us. The only way we’ll know if this”—he hated to say friendship, so instead, he emphasized—“thing will work is to spend more time together.”
Her eyes searched his. “No pressure to hit the sheets.”
A statement of fact? Or a request? “If that’s what you want.”
“I do.”
But Fletch definitely heard the for now that hung in the air between them.
“It’s late and I know you get up at the crack of nothin’.” Tanna started across the parking lot and he fell in step beside her, watching water splashing across the black asphalt.
“Do you have any full days off this week?”
“Tuesday. Harlow is working in the clothing store and Tierney is handling hostess duties with Renner in the lounge. The rooms are booked Monday and Tuesday night with people he knows from the world of rodeo. And I’d rather not be there slinging drinks; know what I mean?”
“I do. I’m glad Renner’s conscientious about it.”
“He’s a great boss—as far as bosses go. I’d probably be worthless in the lounge anyway since I’m supposed to go to Eli’s on Tuesday.”
“You decided to go to Eli’s on your own?”
She shrugged.
“Or is the brat railroading you into it?” he demanded.
“Celia strongly suggested it. Several times,” Tanna said dryly.
There were so many things he wanted to say but everything sounded trite in his head. “Is that what you were talking to Eli about at the branding? Whether he can help you get back on a horse?”
“He thinks he can help me overcome my”—sh
e waved distractedly—“debilitating fear or whatever the fuck it is. But I think I’m beyond helping.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m reacting like one of those combat veterans suffering from PTSD. I feel this pressure to get back to normal. Everyone says my fear will blow over. It’s past time to get over it. But what if . . . I can’t? Ever?” Tanna blew out a frustrated breath. “But the truth is, if I hadn’t felt comfortable with Eli, I wouldn’t be goin’. I’m not exactly a pushover, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
So Tanna was one of those women—she showed him her vulnerability but then she’d snap at him if he showed concern. “I noticed. But if my cousin is mean to you, it’d be my pleasure to beat him up for you.”
Tanna laughed. “You are the most unpredictable man I’ve ever met.”
Tempting to kiss her good night, but she’d expect that so he didn’t.
Chapter Ten
Tanna didn’t immediately jump out of her truck after she pulled up to Eli Whirling Cloud’s place. In fact, she sat inside the cab for several long minutes. Even after she saw Eli leaning against the corral by the barn door, drinking from an insulated coffee mug. Watching her.
Judging her?
No. That much she was sure of.
Eli never moved toward her. Never beckoned her over. He merely waited for her to make a decision.
Jesus. Get out of the fucking truck, Tanna.
So she did. Ambling toward him, she wondered if he could see how fast and hard her pulse jumped in her throat. How hard her hands shook. “Good mornin’.”
He smiled and it struck her how welcoming that smile was. “Looks to be a beautiful day.”
“That it does.” Cut to the chase. “So, whatcha got planned for me?”
Eli wandered over to where she stood by the fence. “Do you want to get on a horse today, Tanna?”
She shook her head.
“That’s good. Because you ain’t ready to ride. We’re doin’ this a different way because it ain’t a one-day fix.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Regardless if I ride your horses or don’t ride I can’t pay you for your time.” Damn, did that hurt to admit. “And you’d better tell me right now if Celia and Kyle, or Lainie and Hank are footing the bill for this.”
Amusement danced in his eyes. “Don’t wanna be beholden to anyone? Believe me, I get that. But you’re wrong in thinking the only thing that has value in life is cash. Experience counts a lot more in my book. And you’ve got that in spades.”
“So you’ll need my help at some point in exchange for yours now?”
“Yep.”
“I’m good with that. Any other people you’re working with?” She stopped at adding, “other broken people like me.”
“A couple folks in the late afternoon, teaching them to break colts. Got a bulldogger that trains here some mornings if he ain’t off rodeoin’. Teaching riding and other stuff. The rest of the time we’re exercising the horses boarded here. So I thought we could take the ATVs out so you can get an idea of the terrain. I’m betting it’s nothin’ like what you’re used to in Texas.”
Tanna’s gaze swept the vista. The hilly land was strewn with rocks. Chunks of shale rose out of nowhere. Scrub cedar and sage abounded. The area did remind her of home—until she caught a glimpse of mountains in the distance. “Some similarities.”
“Did you have a good week?”
“Didn’t do much besides working and drinking.”
“What about Fletch?”
She tried not to get defensive, but her voice had an edge when she asked, “What about him?”
“Didja see him?”
“We had coffee Sunday night.”
“And?”
And he kissed the shit out of me. “And it was . . . nice.”
He chuckled. “I saw the sparks flyin’ between you two at the branding, so nice ain’t a word that really applies, is it? You plan on spending time with him while you’re in the area?”
Why was Eli being so pushy? “He’s really busy in his practice during the week.”
“True. But he’d make time for you if you asked.”
Putting herself out there any more than she already had might give Fletch the wrong idea.
Or the right idea.
Or cement the idea that she wanted him as much as he wanted her and she oughta quit lying to herself about it.
Eli pushed off the fence. “I won’t badger you. Let’s enjoy this morning before the sun tries to fry our heads, eh?”
Tanna chose an older model ATV and was relieved when Eli didn’t drive a million miles an hour. He made an effort to point out things of interest as well as some of the more challenging trails.
They spent a couple of hours traversing the land. Part of Eli’s acreage bordered federal land home to wild horses. Eli handed her a pair of binoculars and she watched the animals grazing. Even from a distance they seemed more skittish than horses she’d been around, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.
“How long have you been doin’ this?” she asked. He had mentioned that he received money from the Bureau of Land Management to care for the wild horses—as much as one could care for creatures that had always run free.
“Eight years. I know what equestrians say about these wild ones as compared to horses that are bred for their breed expectations and limitations. But these beauties . . . there’s no greater feeling than breaking one but keeping a part of that wild spirit.”
“I take it you’re not sending me out there to round them up as some sort of initiation into the Wild West?”
“Nope. But let’s head back.”
Driving the ridge, something tightened inside her. She had such an overwhelming sense of loss. She felt burdened by the weight of her loss and the sense of futility, even though it was nothing new. It had been happening off and on since her mother’s death. Never regularly, always at the oddest moments.
Suck it up. This is your life now. Be grateful for what you’ve got.
By the time they reached the barn, Tanna swore if Eli asked about her blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes, she’d blame any tears on Wyoming dust and wind.
But Eli didn’t say a word. He grabbed a bucket and dumped a few oats in. “Come on. Let’s mingle.” He started for the horse pasture, leaving Tanna no choice but to follow him.
And sure enough, as soon as the horses noticed Eli held the bucket, they trotted over. All twelve of them.
Her heart was in her throat when they were surrounded. She nearly passed out from fear when a big gray mare bumped into her with those muscled shoulders. Then the horse immediately tried to crowd her into the fence.
Tanna balked. She started to duck and move. But the mare pinned her in place.
“Aggie. Behave.” Eli’s soft command forced the horse to freeze. “Tanna. You need to get your head on, girl, and remember who’s in charge.”
“Right.” Tanna backed into Aggie’s left side and kept the bucket of oats low.
But the horse kept pushing and crowding. Tanna dropped the bucket and scrambled away so fast she fell on her knees in the dirt—causing a sharp pain in her knee. Then she was on her feet, running, not caring how foolish she looked. She just needed to find a place where she could breathe without fear.
Tanna didn’t stop running until she cleared the gate and had trekked halfway up a small rise. She noticed a crude bench, crafted from old logs and balanced on two flat rocks. She sat on it and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her shins. That’s when the tears fell. Not the silent type that she’d cried on the ATV. But huge, gasping sobs.
She’d never ever been afraid of horses. And that’s how she reacted the first time she’d gotten close to one in nine months? A panic attack that’d forced her to flee and left her fucking bawling like some big goddamn gre
enhorn baby?
You’re pathetic. Give it up. If you can’t even touch a horse how will you ever be able to ride one again? Say nothing of competing on a national level?
Those reminders got louder and louder until she wanted to scream to drown them out.
Instead she curled up tighter, cried harder and wondered why she even bothered coming here. To Wyoming. To Eli’s. She should just go back to Texas where she belonged and . . . do what? She had nothing there either.
After a while, cried out, tired of self-flagellation, she lifted her face to the sky, not knowing how long she’d stayed immersed in her own misery.
A noise echoed to her and she turned, expecting to see Eli. But an Indian woman of indeterminate age—she could’ve been nineteen or thirty-nine—rested her backside against an old pine tree stump.
At first Tanna thought she might be an apparition, since she held such a stoic demeanor. But then she offered Tanna a tremulous smile.
“I know how you feel,” she said softly. “I have more fears than are healthy. Hiding them doesn’t help. Sharing them doesn’t help. Ignoring them doesn’t help. Sobbing about them doesn’t help.” She paused. “Maybe this will sound horrible, but I was glad to see you break down.”
“Because you get off on seeing other people suffer?” Tanna asked sharply.
“No. Because it proves to me that I’m not alone in dealing with a fear that can be overwhelming. But it also shows me that you’re brave enough to face it.” She paused. “So, are you crying because Eli couldn’t help you?”
“Maybe I’m crying because it’s obvious I’m beyond anyone’s help.”
She lifted a slim shoulder. “Today, perhaps. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try again tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. It’s cumulative.”
“What? The fear? Or the solution to it?”
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