Cowboy Fever (15 page)

The next day's polo practice had barely begun before Nate galloped up to Teague and pulled his horse to a sudden, skidding stop.

“Hey.” He pointed off toward the east while his horse tossed her head and stamped one foot, mirroring his agitation. “You see that smoke?”

Teague and their other teammate, Trevor Baines, shaded their eyes with their hands and squinted at the horizon. A thin gray column rose in the air, then dissipated in a flat, diffuse gray cloud. As they watched, it thickened and turned dark.

“Isn't that about where the polo grounds are?” Nate asked.

Teague nodded. “Pretty close.”

“It's that Skelton girl.” Trevor grinned. “She's so damn hot she smokes.”

Teague shot him a surprised glance. “Hey, I thought you had a girlfriend.”

Trevor shrugged. “Just 'cause I'm on a diet doesn't mean I can't look at the menu. Besides, you can't have all the girls, Treadwell. Leave some for the rest of us.”

“No problem.” Teague grimaced. “You can have that one.”

The three men turned as the faint whine of a siren rose in the distance.

“See? It's going to take the whole volunteer fire department to put that girl out,” Trevor said. He slid off his horse, grinning. “I've always meant to volunteer myself. Think I'll head out there. See if she needs a good, ah, hosing down.”

Teague frowned. “What about practice?”

“Later, I guess.” Trevor patted his horse's flank. “Can you take care of old Riley, here?”

Teague nodded. Maybe Courtney would fall for Trevor. That would get her off his back. He was actually surprised she hadn't shown up yet today, bringing some polo tip she'd supposedly forgotten or something.

The whir of an approaching engine joined the distant sirens, making Teague's horse snort and dance. He spun to see Courtney's silver Lexus SUV skidding to a stop at the fence.

Speak of the devil. Or the devil's daughter.

Nate laughed and flashed him a thumbs-up. Tight-ening his lips into a thin line, Teague shook his head.

“Here comes trouble,” he said under his breath. Swinging a leg over his horse's rump, he slid to the ground and stepped out of the gate. “I'll just be a minute.”

The car door swung open and Courtney spilled from the seat, almost falling in her haste to rush over to Teague and throw herself against him. She was dressed in her usual tight clothes, but her blonde hair was in total disarray, smooth on top and tangled halfway down with a crease showing where her hat had been. He'd never seen the girl look less than perfect—in her way, of course. She wasn't perfect for him. Nowhere near.

Somehow, he was going to have to extricate himself from this relationship—or whatever it was. He didn't really understand how it had started. The girl was a little psycho.

“Oh, Teague.” She was sobbing, her head against his chest. He looked down at her, his hands spread helplessly, then put his arms around her. He hated to do that, especially with Nate watching, but what the hell else did you do with a crying woman? The only other option he could think of was to run away, and much as he wanted to, that wouldn't be right. He patted her shoulder awkwardly.

“The stables are on fire,” she blubbered into his shirt. “The horses—they're screaming—it's awful, and they don't know if they can save them.”

“What?” Panic fluttered in Teague's chest like a trapped bird. Troy was over there today. He turned to Nate.

“I have to go. Skelton's barn's on fire and Troy's over there.”

“Go.” Nate made a shooing motion. “Go. I'll take care of the horses.”

“Oh, thank you, Teague,” Courtney said. “I knew you'd come. I knew you'd care.”

“I'm not…” Teague urged her toward her vehicle. This was no time to explain his priorities. He needed to get to Troy. If Courtney wanted to think it was all about her, let her. He'd have a talk with her later.

It was past time for that.

“Come on,” he said, opening the Lexus's passenger side door and shooing her into the seat. “I'll drive.”

***

As the truck swept out onto the dirt road, Teague glanced over at the trembling, disheveled girl beside him. He'd never seen Courtney like this. A black smudge scarred her cheek, and her hair, so perfectly arranged most of the time, hung in lank tendrils around her face.

“Hurry,” she said, wringing her hands in her lap. “Hurry!”

“I'm hurrying,” he said. “Was Troy there? Did you see him?”

“My horse is in there,” she wailed. She grabbed his arm, making him jerk the steering wheel to the right and almost putting them into the ditch. “Oh, hurry!”

Teague floored the accelerator and the truck bounced over a pothole, knocking Courtney sideways so she tilted into him. He couldn't find the complementary bump that would put her back to rights, so she leaned on his shoulder the rest of the way. He knew she wanted him to put his arm around her, but he needed both hands on the wheel on the rough country road and he didn't want to encourage her.

He glanced over and saw tears streaming down her cheeks. There was nothing worse than a woman crying in silence. When they sobbed and choked and blubbered, you could figure they were just doing it for attention. Silent crying was genuine grief.

He gave in and put his arm around her as the road smoothed out. The blubbering and choking started up as if he'd pressed an “on” button. Well, maybe that meant she felt a little better.

He turned and passed under the Skelton gate with its wrought iron arch. Silhouette ranch gates were common, but the scenes cut into the metal usually pictured horses and cattle, or elk and pine trees. Skelton's showed a threesome of polo players galloping from the right, while a single player on the left brandished his mallet in a decidedly unprofessional manner.

The smoke had been visible the whole way, ominous black clouds billowing into the sky, but now Teague could see its source. Flames, colored a surreal shade of orange that looked almost fluorescent against the blue sky, licked and flickered, blackening the barn as he watched. While he negotiated the potholes in the unpaved driveway, a beam fell and threw a shower of sparks into the sky. Courtney gasped and drew a little closer. He patted her shoulder.

“The horses,” she whispered.

Teague pulled to a stop before he reached the turnout in front of the barn and scanned the landscape, searching for some sign of Troy. Any closer and he'd risk the showers of sparks the barn was spitting into the air. A fire truck from Chugwater, the nearest town large enough to have their own department, spouted water in a graceful arc that plunged into the center of the barn.

Teague stepped out of the truck and was greeted by acrid smoke that burned his lungs and an ominous silence. There was no whinnying, no neighing, no panicked thunder of hooves. Courtney stumbled behind him, hugging herself as if she could hold herself together through sheer effort.

“Troy?” he shouted. “Troy!”

The polo players turned as he approached, their heads moving in unison as if they were one big Argentine organism.

“You seen Troy?” Teague asked. “Troy Treadwell? He works here?”

“The simple one?”

Teague gritted his teeth. He hated it when people identified Troy by his disability.

“He's short. Stocky. Brown hair.”

The players shook their heads in unison.

“He works in the mornings,” one of them said. “Never in the afternoon.”

“But he was here. He said he had something to do—a special project.”

The polo player shrugged. “What would that be?”

“Who knows?” Teague almost growled with frustration. “Everything around here's a goddamn secret.”

The players edged away, as if he was a rabid dog or something. He was probably about that dangerous. Ignoring Courtney, who was choking as if she could barely draw a breath, he headed for the barn.

“Stand back,” hollered one of the firemen. “Beams are falling.”

“My brother might be in there,” Teague said. He slowed as another beam crashed and sent up sparks, but kept on toward the barn.

“Nothing in there but horses,” the fireman said.

“You sure?” Teague paused and squinted toward the barn. It was hard to see past the smoke, but he could see something huddled in the doorway. Something green. It looked familiar. It was…

“
No.
” He charged toward the barn, but a fireman grabbed his arm and spun him sideways. Teague stumbled to his knees and pointed. “That's his backpack. Right there in the doorway.” Lurching to his feet, he tried to charge toward the burning barn again, but another fireman pitched in and held him back. Teague fought, but they were burly guys and held on tight.

“Mister. Come on. Calm down.”

Teague slumped, panting. He'd have fallen to his knees again if the fire fighters hadn't kept hold of his arms.

“What did he look like?” one of them asked.

“Short. Stocky. Brown hair,” Teague said. He twisted in their grip. “Let me go, dammit!”

“Somebody like that took off on a bike about the time we got here,” another fireman said. “Green bike. Old-fashioned.”

“That's him. He rode off?”

The fireman nodded and released Teague. As the adrenaline drained from his brain, he shook off their grip and dusted himself off. “It's okay then. Sorry.” He bent over, resting his hands on his thighs while he caught his breath. “What about the horses?”

“Couldn't save 'em. Goddamn place was locked, can you believe it? By the time these guys showed up with the key, it was too late.” He nodded toward the polo players, who were still watching the fire with Trevor.

“Shit.” Teague glanced back at Courtney. “All the horses? None of 'em got out?”

The fireman nodded. Teague turned and walked back to Courtney, moving slowly to put off the inevitable. He reached her all too soon.

“Dutch?” she whispered.

Teague pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I'm sorry, honey,” he said. “It was probably pretty painless. The smoke gets 'em before the flames do.”

She fell against him, her sobs growing louder, and he cursed himself silently. Knowing the animals were dead before the fire reached them would have made him feel better, but Courtney was kind of fragile. She hadn't even come to terms with the horse being gone yet, and he'd gone and described how he'd died.

“I'm sorry,” he said again. There was nothing like a woman's tears to make a man feel helpless. “But at least Troy's okay.”

“Troy? Yeah, I saw him on his bike. He was leaving just when I took off to get you,” Courtney said.

Teague cursed under his breath. It obviously hadn't occurred to Courtney to offer Troy a ride, or to tell Teague she'd seen him even after he'd asked. She was too concerned about her horse—about her own concerns. He'd been ready to run into the fire after Troy, and she'd known the whole time that he was okay.

He needed to tell her to leave him alone, but now was hardly the time. She'd be upset for days, maybe weeks. He groaned inwardly. How the hell was he ever going to cut loose? She was like a burr in wool chaps, digging in deeper and deeper the longer he let her hang on.

Teague was pretty sure he'd set a land speed record on the way home, but they hadn't passed Troy.

“Are you sure you saw him leaving?” he asked Courtney for the third time. She sat beside him, shivering and sobbing, still so wrapped up in her own issues she couldn't understand his concern for Troy. He knew she was upset about the horses. He was too. But Troy was his brother, for God's sake.

He hadn't wanted to let her come along with him. But he couldn't leave her to watch the barn burn. That would just be cruel.

“You sure?” he asked again when she didn't answer.

“I'm sure.” She pushed out her lower lip in a childish pout while they wheeled up the driveway.

The truck rocked and jerked as it hit the potholes at twice the normal speed. The minute they arrived at the ranch Teague jerked the door open and hit the ground running, ignoring the girl's exclamation of surprise and dismay. She could get out of the truck herself. He needed to find Troy.

He glanced toward the shed, but the space where Troy usually “stabled” Bessie the bicycle was empty. Teague swore softly, stifling the urge to run back to the truck and ask Courtney to confirm her Troy sighting one more time. The firemen had said Troy left the scene of the fire too. Courtney wasn't the only one who saw him going.

One thing was for sure—when this was over, Teague was buying his brother a new bicycle. Troy was ridiculously attached to Bessie, but the old bike wasn't exactly built for speed. Once Troy tried a newer racing bike, he'd probably like it.

And it would get him home faster.

Teague mounted the steps to the porch, figuring he'd watch the road from there. He'd give Troy ten more minutes to get home, and then he'd go look for him.

He'd pretty much forgotten about Courtney, and her voice from the porch swing in the corner startled him.

“Here comes somebody,” she said.

Teague squinted down the driveway. Sure enough, something was kicking up a cloud of dust. As it approached, he realized it was Jodi's Ranger.

Well, at least he wouldn't be alone with Courtney.

As the pickup neared, Teague could see Jodi had someone with her. He grinned when he realized it was Troy. Jodi must have seen him and picked him up. He should have thought to call her.

Without thinking, Teague ran down the steps and yanked open the passenger door. As Troy stepped out, he grabbed his brother in a hard embrace and blinked back something that felt disturbingly like tears. He let go and turned away, swiping at his eyes so Jodi wouldn't see.

“Hey, buddy.” He tried to sound casual. “I was worried about you.” He turned back and realized Troy's eyes were swollen and red. “You okay?”

“The barn burned down,” Troy said. “The horses got killed. They were locked inside. I could hear them. It was awful.”

Teague nodded and slung an arm around his brother's shoulders. “I know. Sorry, bud. It's awful.”

“I should have stayed to help, but I had to leave,” Troy said. “I couldn't listen to it.”

“You couldn't have helped.” Teague went around to the back of the truck and lowered the tailgate. Lifting Bessie out, he handed her over to Troy. “You left your backpack, though. I think it probably burned up.”

Troy shrugged. “There was nothing in it.”

“I saw it in the barn. I thought—I thought you were in there.”

“I was, earlier.” Troy looked puzzled. “Mr. Skelton said he needed me to make sure the stalls were clean. I don't know why. The guys had already mucked them out.”

Teague watched Troy wheel the bike over to the shed. He couldn't really figure out why Skelton had hired his brother, since he didn't seem to give him much to do. Maybe he figured hiring the handicapped made him look good, or he got a tax write-off or something. Teague didn't think for a moment the man had done it out of kindness.

Jodi rolled down her window as he approached the truck.

“Thanks for bringing him home.” Teague shoved his hands in his pockets. “I was worried.”

“He was upset about the fire and the horses. I saw him riding along and the bike was kind of weaving so I picked him up.”

Teague felt another rush of anger at Courtney. She'd seen the same thing and driven right on by. Sure, she'd been upset herself, but still…

“Could you do me a favor?” He gestured toward the porch. “Take Courtney home? She's upset and she keeps crying.” He spread his hands helplessly. “Her horse was in the barn. I don't know what to say.”

Jodi's eyes narrowed. “You don't want to comfort her?”

“Not really.” He met her eyes. “Honestly, Jodi, there's nothing going on between us. I don't even like her.” He hated to admit weakness, but he needed to make Jodi understand. “She's after me, and I can't seem to get away.”

Jodi grinned. “You're scared, aren't you?”

“You bet,” he said. “She's a very scary girl.”

***

Monday morning, Jodi cursed herself for promising Courtney she could volunteer at the clinic. She hadn't known how else to shift the poor girl's attention from the death of her horse on the ride back to the Skelton estate. She couldn't imagine losing your horse in a fire like Courtney had, and she really did want to help—but why the hell had she scheduled the girl's orientation session for first thing Monday morning? This was no way to start the week.

And why the hell had Courtney brought her dog? She was clutching her mini-pom in the crook of her arm and stroking his head with one forefinger, totally distracted from all the things she needed to learn. The tiny pooch grinned up at Jodi, his little pink tongue flexed as he panted. It was driving Luna nuts.

Because Luna still hadn't gone home. She'd become Jodi's shadow, following her everywhere, sitting and staring at her as if she had an urgent message to relay if she could only talk. But with Honeybucket around, the border collie paced and whined, circling Courtney as if she wanted to separate her from the dog the way she'd cut a heifer from the herd when she worked with Teague.

“What's with your dog?” Courtney asked.

“I don't know. I think she wants to eat yours,” Jodi said.

Courtney clutched Honeybucket a little tighter and looked up at Vegas, who had come over to the fence where they were standing.

“I think it's so sweet that Teague still takes care of this old horse,” Courtney said, looking up at Vegas.

Jodi scowled. She'd just mucked out the animal's stall, led him around the arena a dozen times like she did three times a day to get him used to the space before she actually put kids on his back, and fed him his morning ration of hay, plus a hot mash she'd cooked up in the kitchen. But Teague was getting all the credit.

It wasn't worth arguing about, though.

“Yeah, that's Teague. Sweet,” she said, struggling to keep the irony out of her voice. “Sweet” wasn't a word she'd ever heard used to describe her childhood friend before. She thought back to that afternoon in his bedroom. Teague wasn't sweet. He was more…
savory.

“So as an equine therapist, what will my duties be?” Courtney asked, shifting the dog so it lay like a baby in her arms. “I just can't wait to get started working with those poor kids. I hope we can make them all better.”

“Um, well, you won't really be a therapist,” Jodi said. “That takes training and you have to be certified. And you might want to modify the way you think about the clients. They don't want to be pitied, and they don't need to be cured. They just want to be accepted for who they are.”

“Oh.” Courtney's voice was flat. “I thought I was going to be a therapist.”

“Sorry. That takes time. What I need right now is another assistant. I've got Teague's brother Troy, but…”

“I'll be working with Teague's brother?” Courtney's eyes narrowed. “Well, I hope you're not going to have me cleaning stalls and stuff. I have a lot more to offer than that.”

“So does Troy.”

“Well, I wouldn't know. I just know that's all my dad has him do. He doesn't trust him with the horses or anything.”

“I'd trust Troy with my life.” Jodi paused by the barn door. “You know, he's the reason I got into this field. He's like my own brother, pretty much.”

Troy looked up as they approached. He was dumping a pitchfork full of horse leavings into a wheelbarrow, whistling as he worked.

“Hey, Troy,” Jodi said. “Here's Courtney. Remember I told you she'd be working with us?”

Troy looked up. “Yeah,” he said, his tone flat.

Courtney trilled out a little laugh. “Well, this'll be so nice, honey.” She touched Troy's arm with one hand, her perfectly manicured fingernails bright against the faded blue of his denim shirt. “Now you can be my friend, just like your big brother.”

“He's my little brother.” Troy squared his shoulders and turned back to his work. He had an unerring sense for condescension, and Courtney had spoken to him slowly, with exaggerated enunciation as if he was a child. “But I'm glad he's got a friend. Mostly, Teague's too grouchy to make friends.”

“Well, I think your brother is very nice,” Courtney pouted.

“Oh, he's nice,” Troy said. “Just in a really grouchy way.” He glanced down at Honeybucket. “Hey, what's that? Is that a puppy? Can I hold it?” He reached out for the dog, but Courtney drew back, covering the dog protectively with her free hand.

“No. He's delicate,” she said. “You might hurt him.”

Troy turned away, a flash of emotion crossing his face. Disappointment, Jodi thought, and hurt, mixed with a dash of anger. Courtney and Troy were definitely not getting off to a good start.

“Troy's my number one assistant,” Jodi said, earning a smile. “He'll help you learn the ropes. You'll be cleaning out stalls once in a while, and raking the arena. But don't worry,” she hastened to add as Courtney's smile faded. “You'll be participating in therapy sessions too. Leading the horses, helping the kids tack up—that kind of stuff.”

“Here's how we clean the stalls,” Troy said slowly, dumping a forkful of dirty straw into the wheelbarrow with an exaggerated motion. He held out the pitchfork toward Courtney. “Here. Now you try it.”

“Um… in a minute.” Courtney backed away. “Jodi, can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” Jodi tried to suppress a smile. Well, that was easy. Courtney was going to quit before she even started.

***

Teague shut down the tractor and hopped off, mopping his brow with a bandanna. He was in the last phases of clearing extra acreage for pasture. It was past time for a break, and he just happened to be at the part of his property that bordered Jodi's. He glanced across the road. The Brand ranch house was surrounded by trees, a green oasis in the flat landscape, and it looked cool and inviting. He just bet she had a glass of iced tea in there somewhere. Shoving the bandanna in his back pocket, he hopped the fence and crossed the road, patting his thigh when Luna ran down the driveway and fell into step beside him.

“Hey, girl,” he said. “Remember me?”

She whined and trotted toward Jodi's, then stopped, looking back as if urging him on.

“Coming,” he said. “Hey, who's here?”

He didn't really need to ask the dog who owned the silver SUV parked in Jodi's driveway.

“Courtney,” he said. “Shit.”

He stopped, then trudged onward. He needed something wet and cool so bad, not even the prospect of dealing with Courtney could stop him. Besides, he wanted to know what she was doing at Jodi's. Hopefully she hadn't gone there looking for him.

But maybe this was an opportunity. Maybe if she saw how he felt about Jodi, she'd back off.

As he approached the house, the two girls walked out of the barn together, so deep in conversation they didn't even see him. Wonder of wonders, Courtney was wearing normal, everyday clothes—jeans and a T-shirt. The jeans were pretty much pasted onto her body, and the shirt was decorated with a rhinestone silhouette of a pair of crossed six-guns that glinted in the sun. It was an outfit that just might scare the horses into a stampede, but it was a step in the right direction.

He'd caught Jodi flashing a few hostile looks at Courtney during the Rotary luncheon, and he'd flattered himself that she was jealous—but judging from her body language now, when she didn't even know he was approaching, her feelings about Courtney didn't have a thing to do with him. He paused near the porch while they were still absorbed in conversation.

“I'm just a little concerned,” Courtney said.

“About what?” Jodi sounded wary.

“Well, you told Troy he would be training me to do some of my tasks as a volunteer,” Courtney said. “And I'm worried about how that's going to affect our relationship.”

“What do you mean?' Jodi asked. “It'll be fine.”

“But if he trains me, it might be hard for him to mind me later on.”

“
Mind
you?”

“Well, yes, You know, accept my authority.”

Oh, man. This was going to be good. Normally, Teague would have jumped in to defend his brother—but he had a feeling Jodi would do just fine on her own.

“Trust me, Troy doesn't accept anyone's authority.” Teague could hear the smile in Jodi's voice. “Not even mine.”

“Well, that might be something I could work on with him.”

“Sure,” Jodi said. “Maybe smack him around a little. Show him who's boss.”

Teague had to stifle a snort at that one. Jodi was definitely taking care of business.

“Well, I didn't mean that. I meant…”

“Listen,” Jodi said. “Let me explain this before you piss me off. Troy is my assistant. My number one. My right hand. When it comes to the kind of things you'll be doing as a volunteer, he's perfectly qualified to train you.”