Masked Cowboy (Men of the White Sandy)

Dedication

To the real-life masked cowboy. May he still be riding down the middle of the street in Red Lodge, Montana—without his shirt!

To my mom, Carolyn, and my Gram, Frances, for taking me on the celebratory trip to Red Lodge.

Thank you Newton Love and Annette Love Hatton, as well as the Lakota Language Consortium, for all their help with the Lakota translations in the book. Many thanks to Mary Dieterich, Amy Short and Laurel Levy for being awesome critique partners. Thanks to Dr. Theresa Newton for her medical expertise and for keeping me moving. Also, thanks to Dad for getting the video of the masked cowboy digitized! Thanks to Jill Marsal and Heidi Moore for appreciating a man in a mask. Finally, thanks to my husband and son—the best heroes ever!

Chapter One

Jacob unsnapped his mask and sat it on the shelf next to his bed. His face felt different without it—foreign. Wrong. He breathed deeply, trying to enjoy air that hadn’t passed over leather, but it didn’t work. Never did. He couldn’t sleep in the mask, but taking it off made him anxious. He didn’t like being anxious.

He hadn’t looked at his reflection in three years. Had no interest in knowing what he looked like now. Had gotten rid of every mirror in the ancient trailer where he’d lived his whole life. Kept the blinds drawn so he wouldn’t accidentally see his reflection. He didn’t want to know and, what’s more, he didn’t
need
to know. That was that.

Except when the darkness closed around him at night. Then, with nothing but the sound of Kip’s gentle breathing to remind him he wasn’t the only living thing left in this world, Jacob wondered what he looked like now.

He hadn’t given in to that temptation. Not once. Tonight would be no different.

Although he knew the scars had healed, he still wore the mask. Logically, he knew his face wasn’t about to fall off, but the mask was a constant, physical reassurance holding him together. Plus, he didn’t have to look at himself. No one did. The mask hid what he really was from the world.

That was the way it had to be.

On the other side of the trailer, Kip sighed in her sleep. Jacob closed his good eye and let his ears do the looking for him. He searched for sounds that weren’t supposed to be there—the snap of a twig outside, the rattle of the door lock being tested. But the only sound he heard was Kip breathing. It was the only noise she made.

It’d been this way for so long—Kip being quiet, Jacob wearing a mask—that sometimes he doubted that his memories of life before were anything more than wishful thinking.

What the hell was he going to do about Kip? This was another part of his nightly ritual. It’d been three years. Three long years of trying to be a father to someone else’s little girl, of trying to hide her from whatever had killed her parents. Three years of wearing a mask.

How much longer was this going to go on? How much longer could he keep her safely hidden? How much longer before the thing—man or beast, he sure as hell didn’t know—came after her again?

He hadn’t seen much of it before it attacked him with that knife. Just that it was tall—too tall to be a man—and covered in brown fur.

He tried not to think about the thing. He didn’t want it wandering around his dreams, like it often did. If it were a good night, he’d be all alone in his dreams.

But even those blank nights left him asking the same questions when he woke up.

How much longer would he wear the mask? Hide the girl? Be alone? He knew the answer, of course. There wasn’t any doubt about it.

For as long as it took. That was that.

“Hey, going somewhere?”

Mary Beth Hofstetter froze, the keys to the brand-spanking new Dodge Ram that had been her graduation present to herself in her hand. She’d hoped to slip out without waking up Greg. Too late for that. “Actually, yeah. Next week.”

“Next week what?”

She put on her best dazzling smile. Greg’s eyes went gooey at the sight. “Next week I’m going somewhere.”

“You are?”

Mary Beth winced. He hadn’t picked up any of her hints in the last few weeks. Poor guy. He had no idea what was coming. “Yup.” She tried out the dazzling smile again.

It didn’t work this time. “Where? For how long?”

“Here’s the thing, Greg,” she patiently said as she sat down on the edge of the bed. “I passed the Veterinarian Board Exam for South Dakota and I took a job on the White Sandy reservation out there. I leave in a week.”

For a moment, he sat there in stunned silence. Finally, he got out, “You did
what
?”

“I’m leaving,” she explained. “I’ve got a job.”

“But—” he sputtered, jumping out of bed.

Oh, this was about to go south, fast. Mary Beth braced for the worst.

“I thought we’d—I want to marry you!”

“Greg, please.” She took a deep breath, focusing on keeping this short. “Be realistic.”

“But I love you!”

“That’s sweet, Greg, but let’s be honest. This wasn’t love. This was convenient.” Mary Beth winced at how harsh that came out. Her mouth always operated independently of her brain, and it was clear that today was no different.

Greg’s jaw hung low in shock as he made little gurgling noises.

This is exactly why I prefer animals
, Mary Beth thought.
Clean and simple
. “I’m going to take over a large animal practice out West,” she continued, trying to scuttle around him to get to the door. “It’s at the foot of the Badlands. It’s going to be great. A new start.”

“You’re
going
? Just like that? How can you do that to me?”

For a second, Mary Beth felt like rotten eggs on a summer day. It’s not that Greg was a bad person or anything. But he was as exciting as vanilla pudding. Safe, reliable, and above all, dull. He’d make some mousy woman a wonderful husband some day.

Greg was not what she needed, and the sooner he woke up to that fact, the better off he’d be. “I told you months ago that I didn’t want a long-term relationship. Don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, but—”

She skirted him and made it to the door. “Good luck, Greg. Good luck and goodbye.”

“But—” he shouted after her as she shut the door and walked away.

She walked away without another look back, just like she had from Kenny, Rob, Dean, Arnie and Cliff. Kenny had cried, Rob had called her names, Dean and Arnie had pleaded for her to stay. Cliff was the only one who took it like a man. Cliff was the only one she could have loved, which is why she walked after only a month and a half.

“Yeah,” he had mused as she bolted for the door. “I never figured you’d stay.”

And he was right. Staying would mean falling, and Mary Beth wasn’t about to give a man—any man—that kind of power. She’d seen what falling in love could do to a woman—what it’d done to her mother—and there was no way she was going to wind up like her mom, beaten up and beaten down. Not Mary Beth. She was always in charge, always in control, always ready to walk.

Before she fell, Mary Beth would walk.

Every single time.

Mary Beth settled into the last free table at the sidewalk café at Ronny’s in Faith Ridge. In fact, as far as she could tell, it was the only restaurant within an hour’s drive. The rural Illinois town she’d grown up in had been tiny, but Faith Ridge, South Dakota, was practically microscopic—and in the middle of nowhere to boot. Rapid City was almost two hours west. The state capital, Pierre, was an hour and a half north. The drive to get here had been nothing but acres of grass for miles and miles. She was tired, hungry and her butt was numb.

Hell, at the rate she was going, she was lucky Faith Ridge had a restaurant at all.

As she waited for the server, she noticed that not only was every other table filled, they were filled with women—white women, Indian women and even one black woman, but none younger than she was.

What the hell?

The waitress, long black hair hanging down her back with bangs curled high on her forehead and glitter on her eyelids, bopped up to the table. “Hi, I’m Robin,” she said, the faint trace of accent clipping the ends of her words, “and I’ll be your server. What can I get you?”

“Robin. Nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Mary Beth Hofstetter.”

“Oh, the new vet. We’re so glad to have you here.”

Mary Beth smiled. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

Robin shot her a funny look, and Mary Beth wished she hadn’t broken out the five-dollar words quite so early in the introductions. But Robin’s confusion didn’t stop her for long. “Well, Doc Coleman’s been talking about retiring for so long, we were all just amazed when he finally announced that he’d hired a replacement.” Robin took a step back, looking Mary Beth up and down. “You’re a vet?”

“I grew up on a farm. I can handle everything from cattle to kittens.”

Much to her surprise, Robin sat in the other chair, a delighted grin catching almost as much light as the glitter over her eyes. “Doc Coleman saved my cat, Patch. We’ll sure miss him, but…” The way she said it made it pretty clear she wouldn’t miss him
that
much.

“But…”

Robin leaned in, looking gleeful. “You are looking at the sum total of women in town. There aren’t a whole lot of girls my age around here.”

Smirking at the thought that she was about the same age as this bright young thing with cheekbones she’d kill for, Mary Beth took another glance around. “Robin,
why
am I looking at the sum total of women in Faith Ridge?”

She smirked as she stood up. “The show’s going to start in a few minutes. You’ll want to stick around for it.”

“The show?”

“You’ll see, just wait. Now, what can I get you?”

Mary Beth ordered the roast-beef sandwich, as opposed to the roast-beef platter, the beef hamburger or the myriad of steak cuts. As Robin headed back to the kitchen, Mary Beth grinned.

Deep in the heart of beef country and she’d already made a friend.

The minutes past as Mary Beth listened to the feminine buzz surrounding her. For being in the middle of the sum total of the female population of Faith Ridge—maybe fifteen strong—the women were relaxed, chatting and eating as if this were any other night. There were occasional masculine shouts from the interior of the café, where a large group of cowboys were doing their best to coach a ballgame taking place in Denver.

Just like junior high, Mary Beth mused. Girls on one side, boys on the other.

Robin brought her sandwich, carefully balancing a towel and two huge glasses of water on the tray. She set the plate and one glass down. Underneath the tray, she had a to-go bag tied up.

“I didn’t order the extra water,” Mary Beth began, but the buzz died around her. It was like the whole restaurant was holding its collective breath.

“Water isn’t for you,” Robin replied, her jet-black eyes focused up the road. “Show’s starting,” she added, sounding breathless.

Mary Beth followed her gaze, blinking through the streaking evening sun.

Down the center of the street, a cowboy was riding a horse, leading another behind him. As he got closer, Mary Beth could see the cowboy was shirtless. The golden light settled over his dark hat and shimmered off his bare shoulders. His front was still in light shadows, but if the rest of him was as carved as those dark brown shoulders, things were about to get interesting.

“Mmm,” Robin hummed and Mary Beth swore the whole restaurant was humming in pleasure with her.

As the lone rider got closer, the shadows eased back a bit, and Mary Beth realized that there was something different about this cowboy.

He had an eye patch.

Whoa, hunk on the hoof, just like in a romance novel. But as she blinked through the angular sunlight, Mary Beth realized that the patch was far larger than the kind a pirate would wear. The swath of dark leather started at his left temple, covered his left eye and continued down over the center of his face, coming to a sharp point over his nose.

Mary Beth shook her head, but the patch remained the same. “He wears a mask?” she whispered to Robin, afraid to break the spell that gripped the café.

“Shhh,” Robin hissed.