Читать книгу: «Come Home, Cowboy»

To Caitlin, who continues to fill my life with joy and make me the proudest mom in the world. I miss you, honey, but I know you are having the time of your life.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Twice every year, Cara Alverez fell apart. First, on the day of her sweet little boy’s birthday. Second, on the anniversary of his death. Today happened to be the latter.

Crying constantly since early morning and not fit company for anyone, she had kept to herself, shunning well-meaning, but ineffectual platitudes. After seven hours of hard work on one task or another, her chores were done. One problem remained. Her watch read 2:17 p.m. Far too much time left in the day to fill...and survive.

Dabbing at her damp eyes with a wadded-up tissue, Cara wandered to the horse stable. Yesterday, in preparation for this moment, she’d moved Hurry Up from the mustang sanctuary to a stall for the night.

The small gelding, with his mousy brown coat, Roman nose and stubby legs, was perhaps the homeliest horse Cara had ever seen. He was also the slowest, hence the name. But all that mattered little because Hurry Up had the disposition of a kitten and an eagerness to please. Of the over two hundred head of abandoned and rescued mustangs residing at the sanctuary, Hurry Up displayed the most potential for an excellent child’s mount.

Had Cara’s son, Javier, lived, he’d have been four, almost five. The perfect age for his first horse.

Fresh tears threatened to flow, but Cara kept them at bay. Barely. Removing a halter from the row hanging outside the tack room, she walked to the stall where Hurry Up waited. Patiently, of course, as was his nature.

“Hola, chiquito. Ready for a workout?”

The gelding nuzzled her affectionately while she buckled the halter.

“Wait, wait,” she said, pretending to scold him. “We’ll get there.”

“There,” in this case, was a small corral adjacent to the round pen where Cara planned to exercise Hurry Up and maybe reinforce a lesson or two.

Dos Estrellas was a cattle ranch currently running over two thousand cows, calves and young steer. The mustang sanctuary occupied sections six and seven of the ranch, about five hundred acres. The late owner, August Dempsey, had bequeathed the land to Cara for her exclusive use.

August had been under no obligation to name Cara in his will, though he’d loved her like a daughter and she him like a father. But he had named her. The sanctuary, with its neglected and sometimes abused mustangs, was what gave Cara a reason to rise every morning and step outside her room when she’d rather remain buried beneath the covers.

Saddled and bridled, Hurry Up looked a little less ugly. He waited stoically at the gate for her to open it, then stood while she mounted. After several laps at a leisurely walk, she nudged the horse into a trot and circled the corral. Eventually, they practiced reining. Hurry Up executed perfect figure eights and zigzags.

“Come on, chiquito.” Cara attempted to coax the horse into a lope, to no avail. Hurry Up had exactly three speeds: slow, slower and slowest.

On the plus side, there was never any danger of him running away or bucking. The only way a rider could fall off this plug was to misjudge the distance while dismounting.

Her son, Javier, had been fearless and wouldn’t have thought twice about leaping from a horse’s back. Had he been a tiny bit more timid, he might not have...have climbed up the shelving unit and—

Cara promptly burst into tears. This time, there was no stopping them.

A cold January breeze, originating in the nearby McDowell Mountains, chased through Mustang Valley and across Dos Estrellas, drying Cara’s cheeks almost the moment they were wet. Hurry Up stumbled—probably because he was getting mixed signals from his rider—then quit moving altogether.

Vaguely aware that someone might see her, she climbed off the horse. That was as far as she got. Holding on to him for support, she buried her face in the side of his smooth neck and allowed grief to consume her.

Cara mourned more than the death of her beautiful little boy. She also mourned the demise of her marriage to Javier’s father and the loss of a life she’d never know again.

It wasn’t fair. It was also her fault. Everything.

Cara’s crying jag was nearing an end when a soft, concerned and decidedly male voice interrupted her. It came from the other side of Hurry Up, just outside of the corral.

“Are you all right?”

She winced, then quickly gathered herself, using the sleeve of her denim jacket to wipe her face. Apparently, she’d lost her wadded-up tissue.

“I’m fine,” she said, sounding stronger than she felt.

“You sure?”

She dared a peek over the top of Hurry Up’s mane, only to quickly duck down.

Josh Dempsey, August’s oldest son, stood watching her. She recognized his brown Resistol cowboy hat and tan canvas duster through the sucker rod railing. Of all the people to find her, why him?

Heat raced up her neck and engulfed her face. Not from embarrassment, but anger. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Josh. Okay, to be honest, she didn’t like him. He’d made it clear from the moment he’d arrived at Dos Estrellas a few months ago that he wanted the land belonging to the mustang sanctuary.

She understood. To a degree. The cattle operation was the sole source of income for the ranch, and the sanctuary—operating mostly on donations—occupied a significant amount of valuable pastureland. In addition, Cara didn’t technically own the land. She’d simply been granted use of the two sections and the right to reside in the ranch house for as long as she wanted or for as long as the ranch remained in the family.

Sympathy for the struggling cattle operation didn’t change her feelings. She needed the sanctuary. She and the two-hundred-plus horses that would otherwise be homeless. For those reasons, she refused to concede, causing friction in the family.

Additional friction. Gabe Dempsey and his half brothers, Josh and Cole, were frequently at odds over the ranch, the terms of their late father’s will and the mustang sanctuary.

“You need some help?” Josh asked from the other side of the corral.

“No.”

“Okay.”

But he didn’t leave.

A minute passed, then two. What was the matter with him? Was he truly dense or simply being obtuse? She’d told him she was fine.

“Is there something you want?” she called, then grimaced at hearing the sound of the gate squeaking. He wasn’t coming in, was he? She gasped softly. He was coming in.

“Your cinch is loose.”

Certain her face looked a mess, she refused to step out from behind Hurry Up. “Thanks. I’ll get it.”

“Let me.”

He was right there. On the other side of the horse. A few feet away. She averted her face, but that didn’t prevent him from completely invading every one of her senses. She supposed men like him couldn’t help it.

Without having to glance up, she felt his height and the breadth of his wide shoulders. The saddle shifted, which meant he’d unfastened the cinch buckle with his strong, capable hands and was taking in the slack. He finished, at last, and she was certain he stared at the back of her head with those piercing blue eyes of his.

She’d seen his eyes flash with anger—at his brother Gabe and at her for having the audacity to stand up to him. She’d also seen them soften when he talked about his two children.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a tenderness in his voice that she’d never heard before. “Violet told me earlier. About your son.”

Dos Estrellas’s livestock foreman was a friend of Cara’s and also, obviously, a blabbermouth. Cara wanted to be angry, but to what end and at whom? People talked about her. It was the inevitable consequence of losing your child under tragic circumstances.

“Thank you.” Cara’s standard response. She found it better to acknowledge the condolence. If not, the person would just keep going on and on. She couldn’t handle that. Not today and not from him.

“I can’t imagine how terrible it must have been for you.”

Something inside Cara snapped. Perhaps because she was hanging on to her emotions by the thinnest of threads. Or perhaps because this was the man who, given a chance, would take away the one thing left in the entire world that mattered to her. Whatever the reason, she lost control, and the words spilled from her mouth.

“No, you can’t imagine. Not unless it happens to you, which I pray to God it doesn’t.” Spinning, she stood on her tiptoes, her hands gripping Hurry Up’s mane like a lifeline, and stared Josh in the face. “Now, if you please, leave me alone. I don’t need your help and I sure as heck don’t crave your company.”

He stepped back, she thought more to give her space than because she’d intimidated him. Someone like Josh Dempsey didn’t scare easily. If that were the case, he and his brother Cole would have left after the first week when Gabe had made it clear they weren’t welcome.

August Dempsey’s three sons didn’t get along. No surprise. August had many fine qualities and had been a remarkable human being. But he’d also made a lot of mistakes in his life before succumbing to colon cancer at an early age. His greatest one had been driving a wedge between his two legitimate sons and the one he had out of wedlock. His last act before dying had been an attempt to reconcile them. So far, it hadn’t worked.

The brothers might be living and working together, and though they sometimes got along, they weren’t close.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” Josh said.

Cara turned her back to him, leaned against Hurry Up, who had yet to move, and squeezed her eyes shut. This day couldn’t get any worse. “I’m going to ask you one more time to leave me alone.”

“I will, but you need to come with me first.” He spoke softly, yet insistently.

“You don’t say.” The idea was ludicrous. “And why’s that?”

“Some of your mustangs are loose. They broke through the fence and are in section eight.”

“I see.” Horses mingling with cattle in and of itself wasn’t so bad. Horses eating grass reserved for the cattle was cause for action.

Weathercasters across the state were calling the current conditions—rain only once in the past four months—a drought. As a result, grazing land across Arizona was at a premium, especially at Dos Estrellas, where the naturally craggy and rocky hills resisted vegetation. Lack of available grass was also the motivation behind Josh and Cole wanting the land their father had bequeathed Cara. They were already short on money, and supplemental feed in the midst of a drought was expensive.

“I’m willing to round up the horses and return them to the sanctuary,” Josh offered. “Cole’s already on his way.”

As if she’d allow that to happen. Josh probably thought he knew everything about rounding up horses simply because he was a former rodeo champion.

“Not on your life.” She didn’t wait. Grabbing the reins, she raced toward the gate, pulling the small horse behind her. For once, he kept up.

At the stable, she tethered Hurry Up to the hitching post, where he would wait quietly for her return. Then, fishing in her jacket pocket, she retrieved her keys and rushed to where she’d parked her Jeep.

No sooner did she climb in than the Jeep rocked beneath her. Another person had thrown himself into the passenger seat.

Josh Dempsey. He was harder to get rid of than a case of poison ivy. And just as irritating.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

He buckled his seat belt. “Going with you.”

It was then she noticed the coiled rope he balanced on his lap.

“Why bring that along?” She nodded at the rope while turning the ignition key. The Jeep roared to life.

“Figured it may come in handy.”

Short of physically ejecting him from the vehicle, which was a near impossibility considering he had a good seven inches on her, she was stuck with him.

Silently fuming, she backed up the Jeep, shifted and hit the gas. They skidded on the hard ground as she accelerated, then bounced roughly along the uneven dirt road leading from the ranch and into the hills. Every few minutes, Cara glanced at Josh. He stared stoically ahead, one hand holding his hat in place, the other hanging on to the grab bar.

Only when they reached the outskirts of section eight did Cara realize it had been a full fifteen minutes since she’d thought about Javier.

* * *

AT THE TOP of a rocky rise, Cara downshifted and brought the Jeep to a stop. Josh spotted Violet, Dos Estrellas’ livestock manager, and Joey, a young hand with a goofy smile and an aw-shucks personality, attempting to temporarily repair the break in the fence with wire, wooden planks and a pair of pliers.

Josh, however, was far more interested in Cara. She was an enigma. One minute, usually when she was with his half brother Gabe or Gabe’s mother, Raquel, Cara was sweet natured and friendly, though quiet. Around Josh or Cole, she became a different person. Cool to the point of being rude.

Josh tolerated her treatment of him, though he didn’t like it. She was fiercely loyal to Gabe and Raquel, as well as to Josh’s late father, something Josh admired. She no doubt saw him and Cole as a threat. Possibly even the enemy.

None of that stopped him from studying her at every opportunity, however. He thought about her at random moments during the day and wondered how he might breach her defenses.

But to what end? With his two kids arriving at the end of next week and single fatherhood in his immediate future, he was hardly in a position to consider dating anyone, especially an emotionally wounded woman like Cara. Josh liked a challenge as much as the next guy, but he wasn’t about to tackle the impossible.

That aside, she intrigued him, and not just because of her exotic beauty and knockout figure. He wished he had known her before her son had died. Seen the attractive spark in her dark eyes and hear the laughter he suspected was once there in her sultry voice.

Cara turned in her seat to face him. “Well?”

He decided he could take her question one of two ways. She might be asking his opinion on what to do next. The horses, fifty or more, were stretched out over a quarter mile in the ravine below, eating grass or standing and staring at the human intruders, their manes and tails blowing in the cold January wind. She could also be expecting him to vacate the Jeep, having delivered him to their destination.

He leaned toward the latter. She was wearing that scowl, after all, the one she constantly affected in his presence. For fun, he decided to go with the former, if simply to get a rise out of her.

“Drive closer,” he said and lifted his rope.

“What exactly are you planning?”

“Getting those horses back onto sanctuary land.”

She didn’t move. “How?”

He retrieved his leather gloves from his duster pocket and put them on. Slowly.

Her scowl deepened, though it didn’t detract from her loveliness.

“Well?” she demanded again.

“I’m going to rope the black.”

She crossed her arms over her middle. “Do tell.”

“Then we’ll lead him back to the sanctuary. The other horses will follow.”

“I’d like to see that.” She didn’t bother hiding her sarcasm.

“Good.” He adjusted the coiled rope, sliding it between his gloved fingers, liking the familiar feel. “Because you’re going to drive the Jeep up beside him so I can throw this rope around his neck.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m open to a better suggestion.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “We can get my brothers and a few more hands on horseback. Or round up the mustangs with the quads, though that might cause a stampede.”

He could see by her creased brow she disliked that idea. Probably too reminiscent of how the mustangs were captured in the first place. Josh had learned from Violet while having a beer at the Poco Dinero Bar that the horses came from all over Arizona, driven in from the remote regions by a fleet of four-wheel vehicles or sometimes helicopters.

“Give me thirty minutes.” He allowed himself a small grin, certain his confidence would annoy her. “I’ll have the mustangs safe and secure.”

“He’ll run,” Cara said, referring to the black.

“Undoubtedly. All I need is for you to get me close enough.”

The black was fast. Josh had observed him more than once in the sanctuary, tearing hell-bent for election across the grazing land. He was also fiery, smart and a natural leader, qualities Josh sought in a horse. The black had been the reigning king of his harem of mares before being captured four months ago. He wasn’t ready to abdicate his position anytime soon.

Cara chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, distracting Josh. Or was she enticing him? She had a great mouth. Full and lush and wide. He found it hard to look away.

“What if you don’t?” she asked. “Rope him.”

“I’ll help you get the mustangs back to the sanctuary any way you choose.”

Her gaze narrowed. “You swear?”

What way was she thinking? On foot? They’d never catch the black. Maybe Josh should reconsider.

He didn’t. “You have my word.”

She pushed down on the clutch and shifted gears. “Let’s go.”

The next instant, they were flying down the rise. Had he been with anyone else, Josh would have let loose with a whoop and a holler. Cara was a competent driver. Make that a great driver, he amended as they reached the bottom and turned on a dime with just the right amount of daring.

The open Jeep, with its roll bar overhead, allowed him the room he needed to maneuver. Ground flew by at increasing speed. At times, the late-afternoon sun blinded him as they drove into it. The wind grabbed at his cowboy hat. Frustrated, Josh whisked it off and dropped it on the floorboard.

Nearing the mustangs, he unbuckled his seat belt and half stood, bracing his right knee on his seat and his right shoulder on the roll bar.

“Be careful,” Cara said over the noise of the engine. “I wouldn’t want you falling out.”

Was she being sarcastic again? Josh couldn’t be sure. He kind of hoped so, liking to think she hid a sense of humor somewhere beneath all those layers of pain.

The mustangs nervously eyed the approaching Jeep. A young colt ran in a circle around his mother, kicking up his back feet.

“Cut to the left,” Josh ordered, pointing at the black. “He’ll bolt that way.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He won’t take the herd up the ravine. Too many cholla cactus.”

Cara nodded, then swung the Jeep hard to the left. As if someone had flipped a switch, the entire herd collected itself, then broke into a full gallop. The black stayed in front. It was a position that enabled him to both act as lookout and defend against possible danger.

Josh raised the rope above his head, the force of the wind nearly ripping it from his hand. “Move in first chance you get. Don’t worry if the other horses scatter.”

Once again, Cara proved her exceptional driving abilities. She maneuvered the Jeep so they were driving parallel to the black, about fifty feet away from him.

Only a half mile of flat ground remained before the next hill. Josh needed to make his move quickly or kiss opportunity goodbye.

“Get closer.” He didn’t add, Now or never.

Cara seemed to figure it out. Glancing over her shoulder, she eased the Jeep nearer and nearer, narrowly avoiding ruts, holes, boulders and brush. The fifty feet separating them from the black shrunk to twenty. Josh raised the rope...and hesitated.

Powerful, athletic, with a coat the color of charcoal and sleek as satin, the horse moved with breathtaking beauty. Head and tail raised high, he charged ahead, the image of the outlaw horse he was.

What would it be like to ride that magnificent animal? Josh wanted to know. More than that, he wanted to own the black. Train him. Gain his trust. Command him. He would, too, he was suddenly certain.

Lifting his arm, he studied his target. Josh had a drawer filled with gold and silver buckles, testament to his abilities at calf roping, bronc busting and bull riding. Once a rodeo man, always a rodeo man. He had no doubt he’d place the rope precisely where it needed to go—over the black’s head and around his neck.

Moving his arm in a counterclockwise direction, he let out enough rope for a perfect loop and twirled it over his head. Holding the excess loosely in his other hand, he took aim, sensing Cara’s stare on him.

Good. Josh performed best under pressure.

She seemed to read his mind and eased the Jeep into position. Eighteen feet. Fifteen feet. Twelve feet. Josh could now see the whites of the stallion’s eyes.

Still, he waited, fighting the wind for control of the rope. The galloping horses made a thunderous noise, one Josh could feel echoing inside his chest. Adrenaline coursed through him. His nerves tingled as if on fire, and every muscle in him tensed in preparation.

The black pushed for even greater speed. Josh swore the horse knew what was about to happen and was intentionally defying him.

“Steady, boy,” he said, more to himself than the horse. “Easy does it.”

An instant later, the perfect moment arrived. Josh let the rope fly, his entire system on automatic. He grinned with satisfaction. Damned if the rope didn’t sail true despite the blasted wind.

As soon as the rope made contact, the black shook his head angrily, but didn’t break pace. When the rope settled around his neck and Josh reeled in the slack, the horse kicked out his powerful back legs. The other horses faltered, as if unsure about continuing. The ones farther back were already slowing to a trot.

“Take it down,” Josh hollered to Cara. “A few miles at a time.”

She responded quickly. Josh felt the rope grow slack and was careful not to let go. He’d hate to lose the horse now, not after all their hard work capturing him, but he would if the black was in danger of being hurt.

The black fought the rope, swinging his head wildly, bucking and stopping long enough to rear up and paw the air before breaking into a fresh run.

Josh kept his end of the rope wrapped tightly, his hand cemented to the side of his leg. Each of the black’s movements transmitted through the rope like a telegraph signal traveling a line.

“That’s right,” he coaxed when Cara had slowed the Jeep enough that the black trotted alongside them. “No need to fight.”

Except the black did just that. Refusing to surrender, he snorted lustily and pranced, showing off the spirit that made him a rebel and the sharp action of his gait. Josh fell a little bit more in love with the horse. He wouldn’t be satisfied until the black was his.

By now, Cara was driving no more than five miles an hour. They were mere feet away from the hill. Had the capture taken a minute longer, they wouldn’t have made it.

“Should I stop?” she asked.

Josh dropped down into the passenger seat, the rope gripped in his hand. “Let’s turn around and head back.”

With little choice, the black went along. Every few steps, he shook his head, snorted and attempted to change direction. Josh held firm. In this contest of wills, he was determined to emerge the victor.

As he’d hoped, the remaining horses followed their leader. Violet and Joey hopped on their quads and brought up the rear, careful to stay a safe distance behind. Their job was to make sure there were no stragglers.

Thirty minutes later, they had pushed the mustangs through the gate into section seven of the sanctuary. With some reluctance, Josh cut the black loose. After that, the horse did his job, circling his herd and making sure they were once again safely under his command.

Cara had parked the Jeep and stood by the gate, watching the mustangs pass through like a mother monitoring her many children. Josh strode over to her.

She glanced up at his approach but didn’t say anything. He hadn’t expected her to thank him. Well, maybe he had expected it.

“I’d like to talk to you,” he said, admiring the rosy glow of her cheeks and the way her long black hair whipped around her face. Winter suited her. Then again, he could picture her in shorts and a tank top, her tanned legs and slender arms—

“About what?”

His thoughts splintered at her sharp tone. “The black,” he said. “And that horse you were working with earlier.”

Suspicion flared in her eyes.

Josh didn’t give her a chance to rebuke him. “I’d like to buy them from you.”

“They’re not for sale.”

“I thought all your mustangs were for sale. Isn’t that the purpose of the sanctuary? To rehabilitate the horses and find them a permanent home?”

“There’s a detailed adoption process. Prospective owners have to meet certain qualifications. You don’t.”

With that, she walked through the gate and into the sanctuary.

“Fine,” Josh mumbled to himself, watching some of the friendlier mustangs surround her and beg for attention. “But you can’t avoid me forever.”

And she couldn’t. Thanks to the terms of his late father’s will and the agreement he’d reached with Gabe, they were both stuck at Dos Estrellas, for the next year at least, working and living side by side.

The situation appealed to Josh far more than he’d ever admit.