Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Jo woke at six-thirty, which was late for her, and heard rain drumming on the roof.
She flopped back on the pillow. Rain was good, making the hay grow that she’d use to feed her cattle next winter.
If she still had the ranch next winter. But rain meant mud as she went about her chores. Mud wasn’t so good.
She turned her head and looked at the picture of her great-aunt Josephine sitting on her dresser. Aunt Josephine had believed in past lives, and she claimed that Jo was a reincarnated pioneer woman, which Aunt Josephine said explained everything.
Jo’s mother had died when she was thirteen, and her father had married a woman who didn’t seem to like Jo much.
Aunt Josephine had been Jo’s salvation, and she’d dreamed of helping run the ranch someday.
But her great-aunt had insisted she go to college instead of moving directly to the ranch after high school, and there Jo had met lovable, bossy Cassie.
Jo smiled. When Cassie got an idea in her head, most people went along, including Jo.
So after graduation she’d worked with Cassie at her family’s stables for a year, always thinking she could eventually join Aunt Josephine in Montana.
Then an unexpected heart attack claimed her seemingly ageless great-aunt, and suddenly the Bar None belonged to Jo.
“Heels down! Back straight! Grab some mane! That’s it!”
That sounds like Fred. Jo threw back the covers and hurried to the window. Her breath fogged the glass, and she rubbed a clear place to look through.
Sure enough, Fred had somebody up on Hyper, and from the way the rider was bouncing around Jo knew who it had to be. God, what had she done?
As she pulled on her jeans, she hopped one-legged to the window to see if Quinn was still aboard Hyper. Trust Fred to give him the acid test, just like he had with the whiskey. And in the rain, no less. Everything was slippery in the rain, including saddles.
Still buttoning her shirt, she took the stairs at a rapid clip.
Emmy Lou was in the kitchen frying bacon. “Fred came to get Quinn at five-thirty,” she called as Jo headed for the door.
“Why the hell didn’t Quinn tell Fred to get lost?” Jo clamped her hat on her head and grabbed a yellow slicker from a peg by the door.
“I think he wants to be your knight in shining armor,” Emmy Lou said.
“I don’t know what to do with one of those,” Jo said. “I never had one before.”
Emmy Lou came to the door. “You were on the right track last night in the barn.”
Jo shook her head. “That would completely louse up the plan.”
“Then maybe you need a new plan.”
Jo flung open the door. “Can’t think about that now. I have to go save Quinn before Fred breaks every bone in his gorgeous body.”
She ran toward the corral, splashing through puddles along the way, but she wasn’t in time.
As she arrived, Hyper slid to an abrupt halt, haunches down, and Quinn popped right out of the saddle.
The corral was a sea of mud, so there was no question he’d land in it.
Fortunately it was butt-first instead of headfirst.
Jo stormed up to Fred, who was leaning against the top rail, the brim of his hat creating a mini waterfall in front of his face. He didn’t turn. “Mornin’, Jo.”
Jo would never publicly chastise anyone who worked for her, but it took an effort for her to keep her voice down so Quinn couldn’t hear her. “It’s raining, Fred. A real trash mover.”
“I did notice that.”
Jo nodded. “Okay. I guess we’ll move on to my next point. Quinn’s riding Hyper.”
“I noticed that, too.”
“Why is he riding Hyper, Fred?”
“That was the horse he wanted.”
“Of course he did!” Jo heard herself getting loud and lowered her voice. “That’s the horse everybody wants, because he’s beautiful. I’ll bet you didn’t tell him that horse is a spoiled brat, did you?”
“‘Scuse me a minute, Jo.” Fred made a megaphone of his hands. “Your hat’s over yonder!” he called to Quinn. “Grip harder with your thighs next time.”
“I don’t want there to be a next time,” Jo said.
Fred turned to her at last, a challenge in his gray eyes. “Wanna take over?”
“No, I want you to take it easy on him! At this rate he’ll end up in the hospital, which is not fair considering he’s only doing this as a favor to me.”
“I don’t think he’ll end up in the hospital.”
“No? I’ve already seen him take one tumble. The next one could be—”
“He’s hit the mud four times already.” Fred sounded proud of the fact.
“Four?”
“Whoops. Make that five.”
Jo whipped around to take stock of the newest disaster.
What she saw made her go cold. Quinn lay facedown in the muck.
“God, Fred, you’ve killed him.” Jo ducked through the rails of the corral and ran toward Quinn.
“Are you okay? Please be okay!” She crouched beside him.
At least he seemed to be breathing. “Quinn! Speak to me!”
Slowly he rolled to his back and glanced at her, his face grimy with mud. He grinned. “Well, damn. I thought I’d have this riding thing figured out before breakfast. It may take a little longer than that.”
“Don’t move.” Jo wiped a glob of mud from his chin with a trembling hand. If he was really hurt she’d never forgive herself. “You may have a concussion. A broken back. Broken neck. Broken ribs.”
“Nah. Besides, I can’t just lie here. The way the rain’s coming down, I’ll drown.”
Jo leaned closer, her conscience kicking her six ways to Sunday. “You don’t have to do this,” she said in an undertone. “I’ll tell Fred I’ve changed my mind about having you impersonate Hastings. Go get cleaned up, have Emmy Lou’s famous ranch breakfast and drive out of here.”
His blue gaze, usually so easygoing, slowly took on the look of tempered steel. “Nope. Can’t do it.”
“Why not? Surely you’re not trying to prove something to Fred. I could have throttled you last night with that stupid posturing about the whiskey.”
Quinn smiled and eased to a sitting position. “It did taste a lot like the muck in this corral.” He turned his face away and spit.
“Go back to New York, Quinn. Please.”
He looked at her. “You don’t want me around anymore?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then I’m staying.” He jerked a thumb at Hyper. “Is it true that horse slept in your bed?”
So Fred had explained that she was the one who had spoiled Hyper. “He was tiny. Premature, and an orphan. So cute and lonesome. Fred told me I’d be sorry.”
Quinn gave her a sly grin. “You said I was cute, and I’m feeling kinda lonesome.”
She tried to ignore the leap in her pulse rate. “I don’t make those mistakes anymore. You see how Hyper turned out.” She stood. “Come on, I’ll help you up, and we’ll go inside.”
He ignored her outstretched hand and got to his feet by himself. “I told you I’d do this, and I’ll do it.”
She noticed him wince and caught his arm. “You were never supposed to learn to become a real cowboy! I thought you could pick up a few things and fake it.”
He leaned down and retrieved his muddy hat, obviously a loan from Benny.
The mud-spattered jeans and shirt looked like Benny’s, too, and the worn boots.
Mud-spattered or clean, Benny had never looked so good in these clothes.
Quinn might be a lousy rider, but he was born to dress in snug jeans and broad-shouldered Western shirts.
He settled the hat on his head and glanced at her. “There’s something I forgot to tell you. Faking it isn’t my style.” He tipped his hat. “Excuse me, ma’am.” There was a definite drawl in his voice. “I need to go catch your spoiled-rotten horse.”
As he ambled away, Jo stared at him with her mouth open. “What’s with the drawl? You’re from New York! New Yorkers don’t drawl.”
Quinn laughed. “I bit my tongue on that last go-round. Drawling feels better than talking fast.”
“And where’d you get that bowlegged walk? That’s not your normal walk, either.”
He kept going, headed for the dark bay standing in a corner of the corral. “I always wondered why cowboys walk this way. After banging around in that saddle a few times, I get it.”
“Quinn, stop this!”
He kept walking.
Jo stalked to Fred. “We have to make him quit.”
“Now, Jo, have you ever known a cowboy you could talk out of something once he’s set his mind to it?”
“Read my lips—he’s not a cowboy.”
Fred shrugged, “I wouldn’t be so sure. I thought he shouldn’t ride this morning on account of the rain. But he wanted to.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. He just asked if rain would be bad for the horse.”
“But you should have talked him out of riding Hyper.”
“I tried. He said if he could ride Hyper he’d know he’d really learned how to ride. Said he’d keep at it until he could stay on. And look at that. Damned if he don’t have old Hyper figured out.”
Jo gazed across the corral. Hyper started out with his usual crow hops, but Quinn gripped with his thighs and held on.
Jo could tell that he was gripping with his thighs because of the way the wet denim moved.
Not that she was looking at his thighs on purpose.
And she was definitely not looking at the spot between his thighs, the place that had taken so much punishment from the saddle this morning.
He’d probably appreciate an ice pack for that area.
She cringed as Quinn’s butt came partially off the saddle and slammed down again.
But, God, he had a great butt. And he was keeping it mostly in the saddle this time.
He dug his heels into Hyper’s ribs, and the gelding took off at a lope.
Quinn’s hat flew off, and for a second Jo thought he would tumble into the mud again, but he corrected his position by using those spectacular thigh muscles.
As Hyper and Quinn rounded the curve of the corral, Quinn let out a whoop. “Coming through,” he yelled. “I still can’t steer worth a damn!”
Jo scrambled through the fence barely ahead of the thundering hooves.
“Yee-haw!” Quinn shouted as Hyper made another circuit, flinging mud everywhere.
Jo turned to stare at Fred. “Yee-haw?”