One Stubborn Cowboy

by Barbara McMahon

  She was taken aback. “Yes, I suppose they do most adults, Mr. Lockford. But I hope mine don’t bore children,” she replied with dignity. “I’ll find Sally.” She thought her legs would give way her knees were so shaky. As she pushed back through the screen door and started toward the old barn she tried to keep from giving in to tears.

  Damn, he was downright rude! There was no reason to insult her work. She’d never attack someone’s livelihood. If she did, he’d be the first. She’d tell about what she thought about arrogant swaggering cowboys. Half the time they acted like little boys who couldn’t grow up, forever riding the range and bellying up to the bars. He needn’t act so superior.

  Though there was nothing of a little boy about Kit Lockford. Just once she’d like to get the better of him!

  Her anger and hurt were forgotten as she walked toward the barn looking around her in interest. There was so much to see. Four horses dozed in the corral, three sleek chestnuts and a spotted Appaloosa. Kelly veered to the rail and peered through the bars. She’d be content to stand and watch the beautiful creatures for hours on end. She wanted to capture their grace and beauty in her sketches. Wanted her illustrations for the new book to be as perfect as she could get them.

  “Kelly, hello.” Sally came from the barn, a smile of welcome on her face.

  “Hi, Sally. They’re beautiful,” Kelly said, turning back to the animals.

  “Thanks. Come on inside. Clint’s there, you can meet him. Then we’ll get Popo.”

  Kelly followed Sally, her gaze darting everywhere. Empty stalls lined both walls of the big barn. A massive loft for winter hay storage was overhead. At the far end a man groomed a fine black gelding. As Kelly drew near, she knew he had to be Clint. He was a younger version of his brother.

  He was tall, with curly chestnut hair and the same broad shoulders. But his smile was wide and friendly, not arrogant and sexy. And his voice was warm with welcome.

  “I hear Popo’s going to be the role model for a new book,” he said after introductions were made.

  “I hope so. I got the idea for the story when I saw a black pony in a field, on the other side of town. But I need to see movement, get a better idea of how ponies move. I try to do realistic work, even if it is only for kids.” Was she justifying her own work now, just because of Kit’s words?

  “We enjoyed your book about Amy,” he said easily. “I must have read it to Julie a dozen times.”

  “And Kit even more. She couldn’t get enough of it,” Sally added with a friendly smile.

  “I met, um, Kit at the house. I stopped there first. He said it bored him,” Kelly said lightly, shyly reaching out to pat the sleek neck of the horse standing so docilely.

  Clint chuckled. “It probably did after the eight millionth time. Julie was thrilled with it, however. I liked the pictures. I felt as if I was there.”

  “Come on, I’ll show you Popo,” Sally said. She led the way to the back corral, where two more horses looked up with interest as the women arrived. In the far corner was a small cream-colored pony, with a long, silky, blond mane and tail. Kelly was enchanted, though Popo didn’t have the lost, sad look she saw with the black pony.

  “Clint bought him for my niece and nephews, for when they visit. He gets ridden a lot when they’re here. Other than that, he’s got it made. Food twice a day and no other responsibilities.”

  “Great life.” Kelly smiled. She opened her tablet and began sketching the pony while he stood in the sun, moved across the corral, drank from the trough.

  Sally then led him around on a lead rope, put him through different gaits while Kelly watched carefully, sketching the different movements. It was perfect. This was exactly what she needed. She had a much better feel for how the pony moved.

  The afternoon flew by. Kelly finally reluctantly gathered her things. “I should be going.” She gave a fond look at the little pony, now eating from the hay a cowboy had tossed in the corral a few minutes ago.

  “Stay for dinner,” Sally suggested. “We’re having chicken and I have plenty to go around.”

  “I’d like that,” Kelly agreed after a moment’s thought. She’d get to see Kit again. Would he be disagreeable around his brother and sister-in-law? “Can I help?”

  “Sure. I like company in the kitchen. Clint usually comes in then and sits with me as I cook.” Sally smiled shyly. “We’ve not been married all that long. Being apart all day, it’s nice to be together in the evening even if it’s only to cook supper.”

  “I think that’s nice. How long have you two been married?”

  “Just a year last month. We wanted to get married before that, but weren’t sure how it’d work with Kit and all. It’s turned out fine,” she said quickly.

  It must be difficult to start married life living with your in-laws. Couldn’t Clint afford a separate house for him and Sally? Was it Kit’s house? Not that it was any of her business, but she was curious.

  The two women worked easily together, laughing as they fried the chicken, set out beverages and baked biscuits. Clint joined them as they worked, tilted back in one of the kitchen chairs, joining in the fun and laughter. He helped by setting the dining-room table and carrying in the food. When it was on the table, he went to the hall to yell for Kit.

  Kit Lockford arrived silently, gliding in a wheelchair.

  Kelly’s eyes widened in surprise. That explained the absence of a chair at the foot of the table. She was surprised at the wheelchair, however. Usually sprained ankles weren’t serious enough for a wheelchair. Maybe it was broken.

  “Well, well, I see Miss Goodness-and-Light is dining with us,” Kit said as he maneuvered the chair deftly in place, his eyes on Kelly.

  “Kit,” Clint said with an edge to his voice.

  But Kelly wasn’t cowed. “Well, well, still the arrogant macho cowboy, I see. Your mother should have taught you some manners when you were a kid,” she replied, giving him a false sweet smile.

  His eyes lit appreciably, and a smile almost reached his lips. “And yours should have taught you to watch your tongue when visiting in a man’s house.”

  “I never really knew my mother, but I’m sure she would have told me to stand up to egotistical and conceited males. Anyway,” she said graciously, “I expect you feel out of sorts if your ankle ached.”

  “Ankle?” Sally looked puzzled, glancing between Kit and Kelly.

  “Didn’t he hurt his ankle?” Kelly looked at Sally. “I asked when I first arrived.” She looked back suspiciously at Kit. “You didn’t deny it.”

  He made no response, but a devilish glint entered his eyes as he stared at her, holding her gaze.

  “Oh, Kelly,” Sally said softly, sadly. “Kit was in a bad accident a couple of years ago. He’s partially paralyzed. That’s why he uses crutches. He can’t walk without them.” Sally trailed off.

  Kelly’s eyes clashed with his in sudden realization. How awful! And how he must hate it! He was so strong, active, virile. God, to be confined to a wheelchair must be hell for anyone, but how much worse for a rancher, a man used to roaming endless acres of land, riding horses, walking his property. How could he stand the loss of such freedom? Her stomach tightened in painful sympathy and she swallowed hard.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” she said matter-of-factly. “You could have told me.” She still faced Kit. She refused to be embarrassed, as she was sure he’d deliberately misled her. He’d known she hadn’t known he was paralyzed and had deliberately hidden the situation from her. Why? To have her make a fool of herself? Well, she was sorry, but she refused to be upset with her error. He could have set her straight.

  Kit sat back, searching her eyes for the pity and compassion he always found. But he didn’t see it in Kelly. She was still staring at him but she looked as if she was getting angry again. He glanced at his brother and Sally, then back to Kelly. Her gaze was almost furious.

  “No reason you should know,” he said.

  “No, just let me make a fool o
f myself thinking you’d sprained your ankle. Do you like people making themselves look foolish?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a change.”

  Her lips tightened as tension rose. Oh! She’d like to slap that tanned face and get some response out of him beyond the bored indifference. It was a wonder he wasn’t laughing himself silly at the way he’d fooled her.

  “Have some chicken, Kit.” Sally offered the loaded plate, trying to soothe the situation, “Kelly helped me with it.”

  “I wonder if I dare eat any,” he said, reaching for the platter.

  “You can,” Kelly assured him earnestly. “I’ll point out the poisoned pieces so you won’t miss them.”

  His eyes gleamed, but before he could reply, Clint asked Kelly where she was from and how she liked living in ranch country, obviously trying to defuse the situation. She answered his questions, conscious of Kit’s silent regard throughout the meal.

  Sally told them what they’d done with the pony that afternoon, and raved about Kelly’s sketches.

  “So Popo worked out okay?” Clint asked.

  “Yes, it’s been very helpful. But he doesn’t look sad, like my little black pony. The one I’m writing the book about.”

  “Which one is that?”

  “I don’t know. I saw him alone in a field when I was exploring one of the side roads. He was just standing near a tree and looked so sad.” She paused and shot a quick glance at Kit. Surely that was the perfect opening for another of his sarcastic remarks. Cowboys probably didn’t think ponies looked sad or happy.

  “Smiths’, I bet.” Kit answered his brother, ignoring Kelly. “I heard they got one for their grandchild.”

  “The baby’s only six months old,” Sally said.

  “Probably why the thing’s sad,” Kit scoffed, catching Kelly’s eye, teasing lights dancing in his. “I know where he’s kept. I’ll take you to see him sometime, if you like,” he tossed off the words.

  Kelly couldn’t believe her ears. Was that a genuine offer? Quickly before he could change his mind she accepted.

  From time to time as the meal continued she glanced at Kit, trying to determine what made him tick. He contributed little to the conversation, though whenever she looked at him, his eyes were on her—hard, dark, glittering. Rather than make her nervous, it was exhilarating.

  When he’d finished eating, Kit excused himself and silently glided from the room. From the resigned look between Sally and Clint, Kelly suspected this was his normal behavior. She was disappointed when he left, though she knew he wouldn’t stay just to spend time with her.

  As soon as the dishes were finished, Kelly planned to leave.

  “Don’t go yet,” Sally said. “It’s still early.”

  “Not really, it’s already dark outside. I’m new enough to worry about the drive home. It’s a lot different from San Francisco. I’ve enjoyed the afternoon and evening, Sally. Thank you. I’ve got some great sketches of the pony. It’s been a huge help.”

  “I’m glad you came. Will we see you at the dance next Saturday?”

  “What dance?”

  “A Memorial Day celebration, with dancing and food galore. There’ll be a small band, ladies bring food, guys chip in for the beer and cokes. Oh, Kelly, please come. It’s a lot of fun and you’ll get to meet everyone.”

  When Kelly agreed to go, Sally gave her the particulars.

  She didn’t see Clint or Kit again, but asked Sally to tell them goodbye as she started out. It was dark with no moon, and no streetlights. The driveway from the Lockford house was long and narrow. She drove carefully, not wanting to drive off the pavement. Reaching the highway without mishap, she breathed a sigh of relief as she turned toward home.

  The highway was dark and deserted until a car came right up behind her, the headlights higher than her compact car, the glare in the mirror blinding. She adjusted her mirror down, slowed to let the other car pass. It slowed, as well, Kelly had heard stories of people attacked on long, lonely stretches of rural highway. The other driver would be able to see she was alone. A flicker of fear ran through her. She sped up. The car behind her kept pace.

  Kelly strained to see the lights of town. It couldn’t be too far. It hadn’t taken her long to reach the Lockford place that afternoon. The bright lights of the other car filled hers, keeping her constantly aware of the following vehicle. They were alone on the highway. What if he ran her off the road? Ran into her car? God, where was the town?

  She caught a glimmer of light in the distance. Speeding up a little, she soon saw the lights of the houses and the general store. Almost home. She’d be all right, just a little farther.

  Slowing for her driveway, she turned in, safe at last.

  The other vehicle turned in behind her. Her heart lurched as it stopped just behind her car. She eyed the distance to her door. Could she make a dash for it, have her key ready and get safely inside before the other driver reached her? Her shoulders sagged. There would not be enough time. And using her key would give the other person a few seconds advantage.

  Could she make it to Molly’s house? Pound on her door, at least let someone know she needed help? She glanced in the mirror. Had the other driver already gotten out?

  Suddenly Kelly threw open her door, slammed it shut and stalked directly into the headlights, swerving to come up alongside the high blue-and-white truck.

  “Do you know you scared me half to death?” she said through gritted teeth, looking into the dark cab at the figure dimly illuminated by the dashboard lights.

  “Just wanted to make sure you got home safely,” came the lazy drawl.

  “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

  “Just trying to be neighborly.” Was there a hint of amusement in his voice? Did he think it funny she had been practically terrified? If so, he had a sick sense of humor!

  “How was I to know who you were? All I saw were bright lights in my rear view mirror.”

  He flicked off his headlights, plunging them into darkness. “Why don’t you yell louder,” he said softly, “so all your neighbors will hear you?”

  Kelly glanced around. She saw no one.

  “I wasn’t yelling,” she said in a lower tone, knowing she had been. He always put her on the defensive. Had he really followed her due to concern? A small warmth touched her heart. No one had ever worried about her before. Not that she could remember.

  She hesitated a moment. Had he really followed her to make sure she got home safely? What if she’d had car trouble, how would he have helped.

  Not that it mattered. What did was he’d put himself out to make sure she got home.

  “Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee?” she offered, reluctant to have him leave after going to the trouble to follow her home. Beside, she was dying to learn more about Kit Lockford.

  He didn’t reply at once, and she could almost feel him weighing the pros and cons of such a move. At last he spoke. “Okay, I’ll try it.”

  “I’ve heard more eager acceptances from people going to the dentist,” she muttered. “What are you going to try, the coffee? Afraid I might poison it?”

  “No, I’ll try the experience of drinking it with a sassy-mouthed termagant.”

  “I am not.” Her voice raised again.

  “For all you look like an angel, you have the temper of a shrew and the stubbornness of a mule. You take the cake when complaining about my behavior.” he returned.

  Kelly didn’t know what to say. He’d said she looked like an angel. She smiled, liking the compliment. For the moment she’d ignore the rest of his comment.

  “Come in for coffee,” she said softly.

  Kit opened the door and swung his legs out. The crutches were drawn from the seat and he eased out until he was standing.

  “I’ll shut the door,” she said as he began his slow way to her house. Her heart went out to him as he moved carefully along the uneven walkway. Afraid one or the other crutch would not find a secure place, afraid he’d fall, she hover
ed alongside, watching the path and Kit, hoping her reflexes would be fast enough.

  He stopped abruptly and looked down at her.

  “I can manage fine if you’ll stop dithering around me. What do you think you’re going to do if I fall? Cushion the blow? You certainly couldn’t hold me up.”

  “I was trying to help,” she snapped, stalking ahead. “Don’t call me if you fall on your face and don’t yell and bother the neighbors.” She flounced up the three steps to her porch and opened the door. Glancing back briefly she added, “And I’m very strong.”

  She went down her hall to the kitchen, switching on lights so Kit could find his way. Her temper boiled again. Dithering! She had not been dithering. Was it so wrong to want to help?

  Flinging her sketch pad on the table, Kelly filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. Kit came in slowly and sank onto one of her chairs, his crutches clattering loudly to the floor.

  Kelly jumped and turned to glare at him, knowing he’d done it deliberately. She was as nervous around him as a girl being asked to a prom. Then she smiled. If she were pleasant, it would throw him off guard, make him mad. “I have some cake. Would you care for some?”

  “No, just coffee’ll be fine.” Taking off his hat, Kit put it on the chair beside him, running his fingers through his thick hair. He fingered the sketch pad, pulling it over and ruffling through it. Closing it, he tossed it carelessly aside. Kelly was piqued when he made no comment on the drawings, but refused to show it.

  The silence stretched out awkwardly.

  “How did you hurt yourself?” Kelly asked at last.

  He looked up, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t hurt myself. I became paralyzed from a bull,” he stated clearly.

  She poured the hot water over the coffee grounds and waited while it dripped. She wondered what the bull had been doing and why Kit hadn’t gotten out of the way.

  “Both legs?” she asked, her eyes on the coffee slowly filling the carafe.

  “Partially. That’s the only reason I can maneuver with the crutches. Otherwise I’d be confined to that damned wheelchair all the time.”