by Delta James
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
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Taming His Cowgirl
By
Delta James
Copyright © 2018 by Stormy Night Publications and Delta James
Copyright © 2018 by Stormy Night Publications and Delta James
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
James, Delta
Taming His Cowgirl
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by Period Images and Dreamstime/Kwiktor
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Chapter One
The first streaks of dawn were filtering through the trees. The fog and steam rising up from the rich ground combined with the light to put the whole earth in soft focus. Sierra Morgan’s gelding picked his way through the stream. She’d been observing this herd for months now. Their habit was always to overnight by moving water. The stallion was a crafty one. If needed, he could push his band of mares and foals into the water to get away from most predators.
Joker, her appaloosa gelding, stopped to paw and splashed the water in protest of having to wade through the stream instead of using the perfectly good trail that wandered alongside of it.
Sierra reached down and stroked his neck.
“I know, big guy, but I don’t have to dodge spider webs in the middle of the stream.”
Joker snorted his displeasure at her reasoning.
She leaned back and patted his strong, spotted rump. “Shouldn’t be much longer.”
They continued to follow the stream until they rounded a bend. There they were—the big red roan stallion and his herd of thirty-five to forty mares and weanlings. The stallion sniffed the air and caught the scent of Sierra and her gelding. Sierra reined Joker to a halt and waited. The stallion walked toward them and scented the air again. Recognizing the scent as one that had never brought harm, the stallion went back to scanning the horizon for signs of danger.
Sierra nudged Joker with her heel and moved closer. She’d spent weeks getting the stallion used to the idea that she was not a threat to him or his mares. There was a threat, but she wasn’t it. In fact, she was his greatest ally in keeping his herd safe. The government officials involved in the management of the wild horses had once again deemed it unsafe for them to continue to live free. An emergency roundup of several herds, the stallion’s included, had been scheduled for the following week.
If the stallion held true to his pattern. He’d stay basically in this area at least another day. There was plenty of forage, fresh water, and several escape routes. Sierra turned for home. She needed to check on her ailing father. They had disagreed on the fate of the wild horses in their area for years. Sierra had been liberating them from slaughterhouses, unscrupulous rustlers, and for the past decade, government officials, and getting them to freedom since she was in middle school. It had become a passion and a way of life.
Sierra finally headed Joker toward the bank of the stream. The big gelding picked up his pace and climbed a steep bank to be free of the water. Sierra laughed at him. “You know, another one hundred yards and there was a really easy way out.” Joker snorted and then shook his entire body, causing Sierra to grab the saddle horn to try to stay in the middle of his back. “You brat! You are not that wet.” His only answer was another snort.
Joker was something of a prima donna. He only tolerated water in two ways without protest—cold out of his water bucket or warm out of a hose for a bath. It was not to fall from the sky when he was enjoying some down time or to be walked in. After ensuring she understood the depth of his displeasure he started toward home.
Once they hit the main trail, Sierra let Joker pick up an easy lope to get them home. Sierra had left long before sunup and thus Joker had not had time to finish his breakfast. They loped to the edge of the barnyard where Sierra brought him down to a walk. She walked past the large, spacious paddocks and stopped Joker at the barn door. Dismounting, she loosened his girth and untied the mecate from the saddle horn. She led the big horse into his stall, removed his bridle and hung it on the latch next to his stall, and let him resume eating his breakfast.
One of the ranch hands, Farley, found her as she finished untying the girth and was fastening it to the other side of the saddle before removing it. Sierra swung the saddle off only to find Farley blocking the stall door.
“Hey, Farley! What’s…” Sierra stopped midsentence. Farley could barely look in her eye.
“Sierra, where have you been? Ruth’s got everyone looking for you. It’s your dad…”
Sierra put her saddle down on the saddle stand outside Joker’s stall door. “Can you take care of Joker for me?”
“Of course I can…”
Sierra ran toward the ranch house. Her father had been sick for a couple of weeks, but she had been told that with rest and antibiotics he would recover. She burst through the kitchen door.
One look at Ruth—their housekeeper for many years—and she knew. “Is he…”
“No, honey,” said Ruth. “I think he’s been hanging on until you got back.”
Sierra bolted out of the kitchen, through the great room, down the hallway, and into her father’s room.
“Hey, Daddy,” she said with a bright smile she didn’t feel. “I see you have Doc Walker out here. You aren’t going to threaten to shoot him again if he doesn’t give you a clean bill of health, are you?”
The doctor smiled. He’d been present at Sierra’s birth and had watched her grow into the strong, beautiful woman she had become. What Sierra didn’t know was that the doctor feared she would need all of that strength in the weeks to come. Sierra glanced at him. When he shook his head, it hit her like a physical blow.
“Hey, baby girl,” her father rasped, his voice weak.
Sierra sat on the edge of her father’s bed and took his hand in hers. “I’m here, Daddy.” She barely kept the tears and fear out of her voice.
Her father opened his pale blue eyes and searched her face. His expression reassured Sierra that he was pleased with what he saw. “Your mama had freckles too. Hated them almost as much as you.” Sierra’s mother had died shortly after she was born. “I think it’s time for me to go join her.”
Sierra looked again at Doc Walker. He smiled sadly and nodded, indicating her father’s passing was imminent. “Okay, Daddy. I love you. If Mama’s here, probably best not to keep her waiting.”
John Morgan smiled sadly. “I hate to leave you, baby girl, but you’ll be in good hands.” He lifted his hand to
wipe the tear that had escaped her eye and was slowly rolling down her cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you more,” she said as her father’s hand fell and he closed his eyes for the last time.
The doctor moved to the other side of the bed and listened for a heartbeat or breath sounds. He put his two fingers on John’s neck searching for a pulse he knew he wouldn’t find.
“He’s gone, Sierra.”
“How? You said…” She turned to look at him, unable to release her father’s hand.
“He didn’t want you to know. He swore me to secrecy. He knew when the end came it would be swift. He didn’t want you to worry.”
“I could have done more; maybe there was a specialist…”
“No, honey, there wasn’t. Your daddy was a practical man.”
Sierra heard Ruth sob from the doorway. “Oh, lord, Sierra.”
Sierra squared her shoulders and placed her father’s hand on the bed beside him. She stood and looked at the doctor. “You’ll take care of him?”
“I will. Why don’t you and Ruth go down into the kitchen and I’ll get your daddy to the funeral home. I’ll let you know when they have him in the van.”
“Do I need to do anything?”
“Not right now. You’ve got a few days. I’ll get all the paperwork done.” He admired her strength. She was definitely John’s daughter, practical even in the face of her enormous loss.
Sierra turned to Ruth and hugged her. Ruth had been with the family as far back as anyone could remember. She had been married to the ranch foreman at one time. But when John Morgan found out she was being abused, he’d fired the man, thrown him off the Flying M and given Ruth a job as his housekeeper and companion to his young daughter. Some said that she and John had been lovers over the years but had never made the commitment formal or legal.
“What are we going to do without him, Sierra?”
“We’re going to go on, Ruth. It’s what Daddy would want. I’ll see if Charlie can’t gather the men and we’ll let them know. We’ll also let them know that nothing for them will change.”
Ruth caught her breath and choked back a sob.
“Nothing will change for any of us. You have to promise me you won’t leave. I can’t do this without you.”
Like Sierra, Ruth squared her shoulders and held back her tears. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. This is my home and you are almost as much my child as you were his.”
Sierra took a deep breath and turned to look at her father a last time. She looked at Doc Walker. “Make sure they take good care of him. And thank you.”
“I will, Sierra. You ladies let me know if I can do anything for either of you.”
Ruth and Sierra wrapped their arms around each other’s waists, left her father’s room, and went back into the kitchen.
Sierra took her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Charlie.
Charlie picked up the phone. His voice told her that her father had kept his secret from everyone. “If your daddy found out you were out about to do something stupid with them wild mustangs, don’t you come to me looking for an alibi,” he joked.
John Morgan did not approve of Sierra’s rescue efforts on behalf of the wild horses of the American West. Like many ranchers he saw them as parasitic in that they contributed nothing but grazed and destroyed the open range. Sierra had tried to get him to agree to take in one of the smaller herds. It was the one thing he’d ever denied her.
“Charlie, you need to gather the men as quick as you can,” she said, holding back her tears.
“Oh, God, Sierra, is it John?”
“I’m afraid so. Apparently, he was a lot sicker than any of us knew. If you could get the guys to gather down by the back of the barn, I’d appreciate it. I’d like them to hear it from me, not seeing…” she stopped, thinking of what she had to say, “…them taking his body away.”
“Shit, Sierra. I sure am sorry.”
“Thanks, Charlie. I’m sorry for you too. I know you and Daddy were close friends.”
“Your daddy was a good man. I’ll get the boys rounded up. I can tell them for you. No need for you to do it.”
“Yes, there is. I’m a Morgan, the last Morgan, and this is the Flying M. They need to know we go on as before.” She ended the call and turned back to Ruth. “I’m going to head down to the barn.”
Chapter Two
The day had dawned with dark clouds overhead. As they headed for the funeral the storm clouds put on a display, letting loose with rolling thunder and flash lightning.
Most of the men and Ruth had taken the ranch’s SUVs to the funeral. Sierra preferred to drive her own pickup. She needed a bit of time alone. The past few days had gone by in a whirlwind. She would always be grateful to Doc Walker. As the county medical examiner and her father’s personal physician, he was able to expedite the death certificate and get the body released for burial. Ruth had been her rock. While Sierra and Charlie ensured that ranch business continued on as before, Ruth made the arrangements for the funeral and the gathering after the funeral out at the ranch.
Sierra parked her truck and headed toward those from the Flying M beside her father’s gravesite. Ruth said nothing but took her hand and squeezed it when Sierra joined them. Sierra closed her eyes for a moment to gather herself and squeezed Ruth’s hand in return. She listened as the reverend droned on. She was a bit surprised that he had agreed to speak. Neither she nor her father had been church goers. But Ruth and some of the boys went every week.
Sierra found it hard to take her eyes off her father’s grave. Another warning roll of thunder. She glanced up to the sky to see if rain looked imminent. It looked like it might hold off for another thirty minutes or so. As she brought her eyes down from the heavens they encountered a man who she didn’t recognize, although he looked familiar. His head was bowed as if in prayer and he had not removed his hat—not that uncommon at a graveside service in cowboy country. Then he raised his head and his eyes locked with hers.
What the hell was Ryder Malone doing at her father’s funeral? She’d heard he’d returned to his family’s Crooked Creek ranch sometime last year. His father had a new trophy wife and was more interested in enjoying the fruits of his labor than running a ranch that had been in the family almost as long as the Morgan ranch had been in hers. The rumor was Ryder had come home and taken over the day-to-day running of the ranch.
Suddenly, Sierra realized that the preacher’s droning had ended. People were coming up to offer their condolences. She went through the motions—smiled, shook hands, and heard Ruth remind them that there was a gathering at the Morgan ranch right after the funeral.
“I’m sorry about your dad, Sierra. I know you two were close.”
Sierra looked down to see her hand enclosed in Ryder’s and then up into his pale blue eyes. They had always reminded her of ice. But she recalled that when he was amused or aroused they held a wealth of warmth. She couldn’t really see his hair but suspected it was still on the longer side. He still sported his permanent three-day growth or dark stubble. It suited him.
“Thanks, Ryder. I think I heard you’d returned. Running the ranch?”
“At the moment. I think the bloom may be off the rose with Dad’s latest child bride. He’ll probably be back home soon taking the ranch back over to try to raise enough cash to pay her off… and start looking for my next stepmother.”
Sierra searched his face. There was bitterness there, but a trace of amusement. “You don’t sound too upset.”
“It’s his pattern, Sierra. I’ve been planning for this and made an investment or two that should take me into the next chapter.”
Sierra removed her hand from his. “I’d almost forgotten… you always have an exit strategy so if things get difficult, you can leave.”
“That’s not what happened, Sierra, and you know it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to do this, Ryder. I don’t want to deal with you.” She turned and walked away.
&
nbsp; * * *
Ryder watched her walk away. He had convinced himself that she wasn’t as beautiful as he remembered. He was wrong. Fact was his memories of her beauty had dimmed. About six inches shorter than his 6′2″ frame, her heart-shaped face still retained her hated freckles, aquamarine blue eyes, and pouty mouth. Her blonde hair hung in loose waves past her shoulders and she still had the hourglass figure he remembered.
“You may not want to deal with me, Freckles, but your daddy made that decision for you,” he whispered.
Andy, one of the hands from the Flying M and a long-time friend, came up to stand by Ryder. “She didn’t seem happy to see you. Are you coming back for the celebration of life?”
“I’m planning to. I’ll see you there.”
“I’ll save you a beer.”
* * *
Sierra walked up to her room and closed the door, leaning against it. Ryder Malone was a complication she didn’t need at the moment. She just had to get through the next few days and her life could go back to normal. Among other things there was that herd of the red roan stallion’s to find again and then move to safety. She hoped to be able to glean some information from some of the other ranchers and government types that would be involved in rounding them up while they were here in remembrance of her father. She meant to keep them well supplied with liquor. She moved away from the door and pulled off the black dress she’d purchased for the funeral.
She heard a discreet knock on the door and Ruth stepped in.
“People are starting to arrive, honey. You’re going to need to come downstairs. Why did you take that dress off? It looked mighty pretty on you.”
“I’ll be down in a minute, Ruth. As for the dress, I did that for you not to embarrass you in front of your preacher at his graveyard. But this is my ranch. I’m going to change into something else and I’ll be down in a minute or two.”