Chapter Six #2
“Wait, there’s something else you need to know.” The older man was still speaking to Hayden. “There was a passenger in the plane, a young woman. The medics said she was about five months pregnant.”
Hayden stared at him. “Is she—?”
“Evidently, she died on impact. And the baby with her, of course. Was she someone you knew?”
Hayden shook his head. With visible effort, he pulled himself together. “I’ll send someone to pick up the horses on Sunday,” he said. “If somebody could look after Steely Dan until then—”
“I’ll take care of him,” Cheyenne said. “I know what to do.”
Buck Tolson was behind her, leading his big buckskin to the gate. “I’m sorry about your dad, Barr,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything here. My horse’s stall is next to yours, so I’ll be there in case your girl needs help.””
“And you won’t have to worry about my beating you tonight, will you, Tolson?” Hayden’s tone was shocking in its bitterness. Buck’s jaw tightened, but otherwise he didn’t respond.
“Just go, Hayden!” Cheyenne said.
For the space of a breath, Hayden glared at his rival. Then he passed his horse’s reins to Cheyenne and strode off in the direction of the hotel.
Tolson’s gaze narrowed as he took stock of Cheyenne’s petite size. “Are you all right with that horse?” he asked.
“I am, Mr. Tolson. My name is Cheyenne McKenna, by the way. I’m not Hayden’s girl, just his friend. And I know how to handle a horse.”
“Then I take it you know the way to the stalls. Let’s go. I’ll follow you. My name’s Buck, but you can call me whatever you want.”
His nonchalance grated on Cheyenne. But she couldn’t fault him for his treatment of Hayden. At least he’d been sensitive enough to know that the man was in distress.
Cheyenne could imagine how frantic Hayden must be. He’d mentioned that he and his father were all that was left of their family. Now, without a miracle, Hayden would be alone. The ranch and the horses would be his. But at such a terrible cost.
She remembered the mention of the young pregnant woman, killed with her baby in the crash. Hayden hadn’t known her. Maybe she’d been a neighbor who needed a ride—maybe someone with a family member competing in an event.
They had left the arena and were headed along the rows of stalls in Barn A. Cheyenne kept a tight grip on Steely Dan’s reins. The paint gelding was calm, but horses could be unpredictable. With his owner suddenly gone and a stranger leading him, Steely Dan could be feeling some stress.
This morning the barn was a bedlam of noise and activity.
With the Shootout starting early tomorrow, dozens of hopeful riders were bringing in their horses.
Cheyenne had slept poorly. She was getting a headache.
Maybe later, before the 7:00 cutting event, she could go up to her room and lie down.
But not yet. She had more urgent things to do.
Once Steely Dan was settled in, she would have to find Roper. He had to be told about Chet Barr’s crash and Hayden’s departure. Cheyenne had never met Chet Barr, but Roper had spoken highly of him. He would be devastated by the bad news.
Since their arrival at South Point, the two of them had been so busy that they’d barely kept in touch. She needed to spend more time with her brother, especially now, with so much worry weighing on him.
Hayden’s horse snorted and tossed his head, almost jerking the reins out of her hand.
“Cheyenne—stop! Get over to the right!” Buck’s sharp command reached her ears from behind. Only now did Cheyenne see what was happening at the far end of the row.
A cowboy was struggling to maneuver a nervous palomino stallion into its stall.
The horse was resisting the unfamiliar space, snorting, rolling its eyes, and jerking at its lead rope as it tried to back away.
The cowboy was doing his best to urge the stallion forward, but the big palomino was more horse than he could handle.
The stallion was becoming agitated. With a sudden scream, it reared and broke free. Trailing its lead rope, it came barreling down the open space between the rows, headed straight for Cheyenne and Steely Dan.
By yanking the bridle and slapping his flanks, Cheyenne managed to swing the paint horse partway to the right. But, too late, she realized that she was still in danger. The move had put her squarely in the stallion’s path.
“Get over!” Buck flung himself against her, pinning her against the closed gate of a stall.
His body protected her as the three horses collided in a shifting, squealing mass.
He kept her shielded through the worst of it, while people came running to break up the melee and lead the stallion away.
By the time he released her, she was shaking.
“Stay back,” he cautioned her as he caught Steely Dan’s reins and then the reins of his own horse. The two geldings were wild-eyed, chuffing and quivering, but with soft words and the calming power of his presence, Buck soon had them under control.
Hot-faced and trembling, Cheyenne took Steely Dan’s reins from him.
The way he’d protected her, as if she were a child, had left her seething.
He hadn’t asked permission to invade her space.
But his hard body pressing hers against the stall gate, coupled with the danger, had made her pulse race—and stirred something else.
She didn’t even like the man. But she couldn’t deny the shimmering current that puckered her nipples and trickled downward into the depths of her body.
She struggled to ignore the feeling. It didn’t make sense—her response to a man she barely knew.
He scowled down at her. His deep-set eyes were gray, almost silver, framed in sun-burnished creases. A fresh bruise on his left cheek showed where he’d been grazed by a sharp hoof while protecting her. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She squared her shoulders and took a step back. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. What about the horses?”
“They look fine to me. But injuries don’t always show. Once they’re settled in their stalls, I’ll phone the vet to check them over. If Chief isn’t a hundred percent fit to compete tonight, I won’t push him.”
“But you’re the champion. How can you just walk away from another chance to win?”
“There’ll be other competitions, with other cash prizes and other fancy buckles. But there’ll never be another horse like Chief.” He stepped away from her. “Now, let’s get these horses to their stalls and give them some time to settle down.”
She walked ahead of him, leading Hayden Barr’s paint horse.
Buck kept his eyes on her, admiring her easy stride and the way her dark hair hung like a silken veil down her back.
By now, he was aware she was a rodeo star.
He’d overheard some riders in the practice arena talking about her.
But it wouldn’t be seemly to tell her everything they’d said.
He could probably have spared her the lecture about the dangers of cowboy romance.
She was a little thing, but she seemed savvy and confident enough to handle herself around men.
Still, the memory of her in the hotel, with Barr’s hands groping under her shirt, made him want to curse and blot it from his mind.
She’d insisted that she wasn’t his girl.
But it sure as hell had looked that way.
Not that it was any of his business, Buck reminded himself. And after the way he’d lectured her earlier, he could imagine what she must think of him. Telling him that he reminded her of her mother wasn’t exactly a compliment.
Still, when he’d pinned her against the stall to protect her from the stampeding horse, he’d found himself lingering a few seconds longer than necessary, savoring her warmth and inhaling the fragrance of her hair before he let her go.
He wouldn’t mind getting to know her better.
But not if she was sleeping with Hayden Barr. He didn’t need that kind of trouble.
She had disappeared into the next stall with the horse. He could hear her moving—a little grunt of effort as she lifted off the heavy saddle, the soft, feminine sound of her breathing as she removed the pad and bridle and began rubbing the horse with a towel.
He listened as he finished unsaddling Chief and rubbing him down. He was tempted to offer her his help, but if Miss Cheyenne McKenna was the horsewoman he’d been told she was, she wouldn’t need his assistance—let alone thank him for it.
Now she was talking to the horse, soothing the nervous animal as she worked. He couldn’t catch the words, but he liked the whispery sound of her voice.
Now that he knew more about her, he liked other things, too. She was smart, ambitious, and independent—very much her own woman.
He wouldn’t mind spending more time with Miss Cheyenne McKenna. After the vet had checked the two horses, maybe he would invite her to lunch. She might not think much of him, but if he offered to answer her questions about cutting, there was a good chance she’d accept.
Then he could turn on the Tolson charm—and yes, that was a joke. He had about as much charm as a thirty-year-old mule.
Buck finished rubbing down his horse. He was waiting for the vet when he realized that he could no longer hear her voice. Seconds passed, the silence broken only by the sound of the horse munching its feed.
When Buck opened the stall gate to check for Cheyenne, she was gone.
Seated in her hotel room’s single armchair, Jasmine faced the door and waited for the knock. She’d given the front desk permission to direct her visitors to her room. She wouldn’t be happy to see them, but how could she turn away her own brother and his wife?
The bed had been hastily made to cover any evidence of last night’s lovemaking. But something told her they wouldn’t be fooled. The only question remaining was what price Darrin and Simone would demand for their silence.