Cowboy Fever (10 page)

Some things never change. She resolved not to look at him anymore, in spite of the hot flush that told her his eyes were still smoking holes in her shirt.

“Oh, Teague, that's terrible,” Courtney was saying.

“What?” He turned away from Jodi and blinked, obviously confused. “Sorry. I was thinking about—something else.” He looked back at Jodi, the sneaky coyote smile returning.

“The way you risk your life every day training them to buck,” Courtney said. “I knew it was more complicated than you said! I hate to think of you endangering yourself like that.”

Judging from the way the girl's breasts were heaving, she actually enjoyed thinking of Teague risking his life. Obviously, the idea turned her on. Jodi figured she was probably the kind of girl who went to rodeos to see the wrecks.

On second thought, she'd probably never been to a rodeo.

“The horses buck on their own,” Teague told Courtney. “It's, um, automatic.”

Courtney gave Teague a gentle slap on the arm. “Oh, you cowboys. So modest. I know it takes a lot of training to make a good bucking horse.”

Mercifully, the group's president was at the podium banging a gavel, so the game was at a halt. The speaker droned through the minutes from the last meeting, eliciting a bored “aye” from the group when he asked for their approval. Then everybody sang a couple songs. They always sang. It was goofy, but it was a long-standing Rotary tradition.

Today the songs were “Home on the Range” and “Don't Fence Me In.” As usual, Darla's dramatic soprano sailed above the crowd, giving the simple songs an operatic boost. Teague moved his mouth along with the words, but Jodi could tell he wasn't really singing. She could hear Emmett's passable tenor beside her, and did her best to keep her own voice on key. Courtney made a game effort, but she didn't know the words and soon fell silent.

Her purse was another story, though. As Darla's voice rose into a high tremolo, the purse let out a single, soaring note, high-pitched as a police siren. Courtney gave the bag a nudge with her foot and the noise stopped.

“Some ringtone,” Teague whispered as the song ended.

“Oh, no, that's Honeybucket,” Courtney said. She opened the purse and tilted it forward, showing its contents to her tablemates. Her tiny apricot-colored puffball of a dog nestled inside. Courtney made a kissing noise and his bright-eyed, smiling face thrust itself out of the purse.

“Honeybucket,” Jodi said, trying not to laugh. “Such a cute name.”

“He's a teacup Pomeranian,” Courtney said. “I take him everywhere.”

Jodi imagined Teague taking Luna with him to Rotary meetings. The collie would have all the members rounded up in a corner by now.

“What does it do?” Bucky asked dubiously, nodding toward the tiny dog. Ranchers expected a pet to have a purpose—like herding cows or keeping the rabbits down. But this little guy looked useless.

“He loves me.” Courtney smiled and tucked the little dog's head back down into the purse. “Shh, baby. You're not supposed to be here,” she whispered. She wagged a warning finger at the pup. “Don't you get us in trouble now!”

“And now our speaker for the day,” the president intoned. “I'm sure you all remember Jodi Brand from her days as Miss Rodeo USA. She's starting a non-profit venture I think you'll all be interested in supporting. Jodi?”

She stood and brushed imaginary crumbs off her lap, then put on her best rodeo queen smile and headed for the front of the room.

Time to shine.

Teague watched Jodi go, smiling to himself. Somehow, she'd gotten herself pushed to the front of the list of speakers waiting to pimp their causes to the Rotary crowd. Even after all these years, the girl had pull.

She stood and made her way through the crowd to the front of the room, smiling and nodding, patting old friends on the shoulder and squeezing proffered hands as she passed. Stepping up to the podium, she adjusted the microphone and smiled, scanning the crowd.

“Well, hello, Purvis!” she said. “I've missed you!”

The attendees burst into applause, accompanied by cowboy hoots and much foot-stomping. Obviously, Jodi was still their hometown sweetheart. After a few gracious nods that reminded Teague of her rodeo queen days, she began to outline the benefits of horseback riding for the handicapped. She was eloquent and impassioned, and by the time she finished, Teague was ready to bankroll the project all by himself if he had to. It sounded like a winner to him.

“So what I'm looking for is a small grant to buy feed and supplies. And if anybody's kids have outgrown their boots and saddles, we could sure use some child-sized tack. We're a registered non-profit, so you'd get a write-off for the donation.” She scanned the room, obviously hoping for a response. “We need horses, too. Older ones with good manners. If you've got a retired roping horse on your hands, or an old barrel horse, it's a great way for them to be useful in their later years.”

A man at the front table stood and Jodi nodded toward him.

“I wonder if you'd go talk to my daughter's Girl Scout troop,” he said. “I think you'd be a great role model for them.”

“Sure.” Jodi smiled, and Teague couldn't blame her. Finally, she'd be a role model for what she was
doing
, instead of what she was wearing. Much as he'd teased her during her reign over the rodeo, he'd known she wasn't a superficial person. This had to feel good.

“I'd love to,” she said. “We could even do a field trip to visit the horses and show them the exercises. What grade is Beth in now, Mr. Haines?”

Count on Jodi to know everybody's name. She'd always been like that.

“She's in sixth grade. But I wanted you to talk about being a rodeo queen. How to carry yourself, how important good grades are, all that.”

Jodi's face fell, but she pasted the smile back on. “Sure, I could do that.” Her voice was a little flat, but Teague doubted if anyone noticed.

“Next Friday? They meet after school.”

Reluctantly, Jodi nodded. “Sure. I'll be there.”

“And could you wear your uniform? You know, your queen clothes? I'm sure the girls would love that.”

“Sure.”

Another member stood up, and another. Jodi had trouble keeping up with all the requests for her rodeo queen expertise, but not another word was said about funding the clinic.

She headed back toward their table when the questions stopped, but one person after another demanded her attention. At the rate she was going, it would take her half an hour to get back to her seat.

Courtney nudged Teague's shoulder. “
She
was a rodeo queen?” She gave Jodi an assessing look. “She looks like a field hand.”

“Jodi wasn't just any old rodeo queen,” Teague said. “She was Miss Rodeo USA. She modeled for Wrangler, too.” He couldn't believe he was spouting Jodi's pageant accomplishments like they were good things. He'd hated the whole rodeo queen thing. Jodi had always been from another class—another world, even—but her crown had really taken her away from him. Rodeo queens were all about old-fashioned Western values—home, family—all the things the Treadwells were hopelessly bad at.

“Well, she sure doesn't look like a rodeo queen now,” Courtney sniffed. “And if she's a model, what's she doing
here
?”

“She just told you.” Teague spoke sharply, and Courtney narrowed her eyes for half a second before she caught herself and pasted on a flirty smile

“Well, she said she needs older horses. Already trained ones. I guess she's not a real cowgirl. Not brave, like you.” She squeezed his arm again. “Training those big, mean bucking broncos the way you do. I just can't get over that.”

“Well, working with handicapped kids is a lot more of a contribution to society.”

Courtney shrugged. “But you need funding for something like that, and it doesn't look like she's going to get anything out of this group.” She looked up at the ceiling and tapped her chin with one manicured finger, pantomiming deep thought. “What she needs to do is a fund-raiser.”

“Like a spaghetti dinner? Or a raffle?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. I was thinking something bigger.”

“Like what?”

“Like a polo benefit.” She straightened in her seat, back on familiar ground. “My dad and his friends have all kinds of money, but they don't much like parting with it—unless it's something to do with polo.”

“So you want us to put on some kind of polo party?”

It wasn't a bad idea. Jodi was only working at the boutique until she could get the clinic started, so the faster she got funding, the less time she'd be spending with her mother. Maybe then she'd forget about that stupid promise.

Especially if Teague did a lot of the fund-raising, and helped with the clinic, and generally made himself indispensable.

He felt a whoosh of excitement lift his heart. When he really set his mind to something, he always succeeded. That's how he'd worked his way out of the trailer. If he applied that same dogged determination to this project, he might not have to give up on Jodi after all.

He wouldn't push her. He wouldn't try to talk her into anything. He'd just be the best friend she'd ever had, and let nature take its course.

“We could put on a barbecue after a game,” he said.

Courtney wrinkled her nose. “No, they wouldn't come to anything like that. I was thinking an actual polo match.”

“That sounds like a big project,” Bucky said.

“Oh, I've done it before, back in Syracuse,” Courtney said. “I've always done a lot of work with non-profits.”

“Well, I don't know much about polo,” Teague said. “But if you could put it together, I'd be glad to print up flyers or something.”

“I was thinking you could
play
,” Courtney said. “You and some of your cowboy friends.” She straightened and glanced around the table, pulling Emmett and Darla into the conversation. “Bucky's ordered all the equipment you'd need, and the clothes. And I've seen ranch horses on TV, cutting cattle. They're quick and nimble, just like polo ponies. A little bigger, but that might be a good thing, if you didn't mind fouling once in a while.”

“Buck, you ordered those sissy clothes?” Teague had seen how polo players dressed, in tight pants and high boots. “You're not getting me to wear tights.”

“They're breeches,” Courtney said. “And they're not sissy.”

“How 'bout we do something else horse related?” Emmett asked.

“Yeah, like a cutting competition, or a rodeo?” Teague scowled. “Something where we don't have to dress like… like girlie men.”

She tilted her nose in the air. “Polo players are hardly girlie men. They're
very
masculine. And my father's friends would never come to a rodeo. That's way too blue-collar for them.”

“We'd make fools of ourselves trying to play polo.”

“No you wouldn't. It's like playing hockey on horseback. If you're good riders and your horses are well trained, you'll be fine. And just think.” She scooted her chair closer to the table. “It would be the cowboys versus the aristocrats. Like a Johnson County War of Polo. That's how we'd promote it.”

“That's brilliant,” Emmett said, earning a glowing smile from Courtney.

“I agree.” Darla's dark eyes were sparkling. She was probably thinking of all the gossip the matchup would lead to. If a bunch of rough-and-tumble cowboys got together with the
nouveau riche
newcomers, sparks were bound to fly.

“But your dad has professional players, right?” Teague asked. “They'd slaughter us.”

“It doesn't matter who wins,” Courtney said. “It's the entry fees that count. It would be such a novelty—all my dad's friends would come. And I'll bet everyone in town would come to cheer on the cowboy team. Don't you think?” She looked at Darla.

“I agree.” The pharmacist smoothed down her skirt. “I'd be happy to publicize it amongst my circle. Which is substantial.”

Teague grinned. She was still trying to one-up Courtney. Darla's contacts might not be as wealthy, but she knew everyone for miles around.

Courtney nodded. “Let's do it, then. Okay, Teague?”

He hesitated. Taking on this project meant he'd have to learn to play polo—and he'd need Courtney for that. The two of them would be thrown together even more, and he had no doubt she'd try to take advantage of the situation.

But it would be a giant step toward helping Jodi fund the clinic.

Courtney saw him dithering and went in for the kill. “The last benefit match made ten thousand dollars for the March of Dimes.”

Teague widened his eyes. Ten thousand dollars. Hell, he'd play polo naked if it would get Jodi ten thousand dollars.

Where was Jodi, anyway? He craned his neck and looked around the room, finally spotting her standing at another table, no doubt talking to more old friends.

“Teague?” Courtney looked irritated, and he wondered if she thought this was an actual date. He hadn't invited her. He hadn't even asked her to sit with him. She'd just appropriated him all of a sudden.

But the polo match was a good idea. Or at least, the ten thousand dollars was.

“Let's do it,” he said. “Where do we start?”

Honeybucket let out an excited yip, and Courtney fished him out of her purse and cradled him in her arms. “You'll need at least three other players, with horses,” she said. “And supplies from Bucky's. They should be in within a few days, right, Bucky?”

Bucky nodded, and Teague almost laughed. Courtney had evidently been planning this for a while. He supposed it was a good way for her to get involved in the community. Unfortunately, he suspected it was also a way for her to get involved with him—but her plan was going to backfire, because in the end, it would set him up with Jodi.

“We must be going,” Darla said, pushing her chair back. Bucky rose with her, taking her purse without being asked. Teague stifled a smile. Ol' Bucky was totally whipped. And pretty darn happy about it, judging from the look on his face as he watched Darla.

“Courtney, it's been a pleasure,” Darla said. “You'll be in touch regarding our project?”

“Oh, yes,” Courtney said. “Definitely.”

Teague and Emmett stood until Darla and Bucky had left the table, then sat back down and turned to Courtney.

“So where do we start with this thing?” Emmett asked.

“Well, Teague should meet me at my house tomorrow morning.”

Emmett sat back, looking disappointed.

“You want to come along?” Teague asked.

“Sure. I…”

“Can you ride?” Courtney asked. “You have to be a really good horseman to do this.”

“Guess I'd be better on the organizational side,” Emmett said.

“Well, if we need any legal forms, we'll let you know.” Courtney turned to Teague. “So when you come tomorrow, don't knock. You don't want to wake my dad.” She wriggled with excitement, setting the fringe on her shirt to swaying. “He doesn't like me to watch the practices, but Gustaldo doesn't mind. That's one of the players from Argentina. Gustaldo likes me. I'd like him too, except I met you.” She gave his arm a squeeze.

“Gustaldo?”

“Oh, don't be jealous,” she said. “He barely speaks English.”

Teague hadn't been jealous—just curious—but it didn't seem polite to point that out.

“They start at six,” Courtney continued. “I'll tell Gus to leave the arena unlocked. If we sit up in the stands and keep quiet, the guys won't tell Daddy.” She tittered. “They like me too.” She looked down at the dog in her arms. “They don't like Honeybucket, though. They say he riles up the horses.
Rata, rata
, they say. That means rat.”

She held the dog up to her face and made a kissy face. “And Honeybucket's not a rat, is he? He's mama's little baby dog, that's what he is.”

With its pointy nose and sharp little teeth, the dog really did bear a striking resemblance to a rat, but Teague thought it was better not to mention that.

“So will you come?” she asked, dropping her voice to a normal register.

“Okay.” Actually, the whole thing sounded pretty interesting. He'd go watch, and see if it was something he and his friends could do without making absolute fools of themselves.

“You have to be careful, because it gets kind of rough sometimes,” Courtney said. “You could get thrown. I'd hate for that to happen.” She looked up at him and blinked her big blue eyes.

He laughed uneasily. “I've been thrown before. And I doubt polo's that dangerous.”

“Oh, but it is. Sometimes the horses crash into each other. Once my father broke his leg. And one of our friends was actually killed. He fell off his horse and was trampled.” She shuddered violently, making the fringe jiggle again. Teague was starting to think she'd give Darla a run for her money in the drama queen department.

“If I can stick a bronc, I imagine I could sit one of your polo ponies.”

“Oh, do you ride in the rodeo?” Courtney practically squealed.

“I did—for a while. Still do, sometimes.”

She shoved the little dog back in her bag and clapped her hands like a kid at the circus. “Oh, that's exciting.”