Six White Horses (5 page)

A weary frown creased her forehead. "I'm tired, Morgan. Will you please leave me alone?"

His usually mocking features were drawn in serious, thoughtful, lines. "I imagine you'd like to go."
 

Patty didn't answer, but her gaze swung to the side table where her grandfather and Lefty Robbins were bent over the checkerboard. Their games were inevitably grudge matches that could go on for hours. Morgan had followed her gaze.

"I'll take you back."

Immediately she stiffened. "No, thank you. I'll take the truck and grandpa can find his own way to the trailer."

"It will be the wee hours of the morning before they break up," Morgan stated firmly. "They'll either have to walk or take a taxi back to the grounds."

"I don't want you to take me," Patty declared, pushing her weight against the iron hand on her back. "Besides, Jill will be furious if you leave with me."

"I can't imagine Jill being jealous of you."

"Thanks a lot!" she hurled sarcastically. "You're really great for a person's ego!"

The song ended and he laughed down at her. "I only meant that she knows how much you despise me. She'll hardly think that you and I will be sneaking off to indulge in some passionate rendezvous. Chances are I'll be back before she realizes I had left, unless you were considering a few consoling kisses?"

"Don't be disgusting!"

Spinning away from the loosened hold on her waist, Patty weaved through the tables to the exit, only to have Morgan's hand reach around her to open the door.

Her mouth tightened as she walked out of the door, his long, broad shadow falling over her, blocking out the light from the bar. She took one step in the direction of her own pickup and his hand curved around the back of her neck, his fingers enmeshed in her long hair.

"You're riding with me, Skinny," Morgan announced.

Turning as much as the punishing hand on her neck would allow, Patty glared into the roughly masculine face, midnight black hair curling down toward thick black brows. The blue of his eyes was lost in the dark of the night and the lazily narrowed sooty lashes. The calmly determined set of his jaw irritated her.

"I have no wish to ride with you," she declared frostily.

"We aren't talking about wishes. You have three choices. We can stand out here and argue. You can go with me peaceably or I can carry you. Now, which is it going to be?"

Their eyes locked in silent challenge. "I wish I were a man," Patty sighed bitterly, breaking away from his gaze as tears of angry frustration filled her eyes.
 

"There you go, talking about wishes again," he mocked.

His fingers released her neck and twined themselves deeper in her hair, tugging its sharply to send shooting fires of pain through her scalp. Uselessly she grabbed for his arm in self-protection.

"You're a brute! Do you know that?" she accused.

His expression was calm and unruffled. "I know you think so. What's it going to be—do I carry you or are you walking?"

The thought of being crushed unwillingly against that massive chest the second time in one day sent waves of heat flowing through her blood. The last time was much too vivid in her mind for Patty to want a repeat performance. That was an experience she wanted to forget.

"If you would quit pulling my hair, I'll walk to your stupid truck!" Patty muttered.

"Was I pulling it?" Morgan asked with false innocence. Untangling his fingers, he smoothed the hair from the back of her neck to her shoulders. "I'm so used to seeing you in your Annie Oakley pigtails that I was probably subconsciously making certain these silky locks were yours and not a wig."

"You wanted me to cry uncle and you know it!" she bit savagely, twisting away from his hand and stalking toward his blue truck.

"I was paying you a compliment." Again a door was opened before Patty could reach it, this time the door of the truck.

"Save them for the other girls who are bowled over by your potent male virility," she retorted. "Personally, I find it revolting!"

Morgan walked around the truck, slamming the door as he slid behind the wheel. "Don't worry, Skinny." He turned the key in the ignition and the motor growled to life. "I'm not trying to compete with Lije or his memory for your favors."

"His memory?" Involuntarily, Patty shuddered. "You make it sound as if he's dead."

"For you, he is."

Patty stared at the profile etched against the side window of the truck, the slanting forehead, the strong straight nose,
the firm mouth and jutting chin. There was a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. As much as she hated to admit it, Morgan Kincaid was right.

If she truly wanted to get over Lije, she had to bury the past, all her love, memories and dreams. They had been a part of her for so long, it would be like cutting off an arm or a leg. The question was did she want to let go of them and let Lije become only a long-time friend and neighbor?

Sobered and frightened by the decision she discovered she had to make for her future, a troubled light entered her chocolate brown eyes. She had been living one day at a time. Now, thanks to Morgan, she was forced to look farther ahead.

"Has the cat got your tongue?" Amusement teased the comers of the firm mouth.

Blinking into the pair of eyes that didn't appear nearly as blue in the shadows, Patty realized the truck was stopped and the motor switched off. She glanced around in confused surprise, recognizing the rodeo grounds and the trailer they were parked beside. It seemed only just an instant ago that Morgan had turned the truck into the street outside the bar.

The hint of a smile was gone from Morgan's face. "What's the matter, Pat?"

"Nothing's the matter," she answered in a taut voice. "I was daydreaming, that's all."

Frantically her hand searched for the door handle, needing to escape. The latch clicked and Patty started to push the door open. Morgan's arm reached around her. His hand found the armrest and pulled it shut. Her senses that had been deadened by the misery induced by her thoughts flamed to awareness.

His fingers maintained their grip on the armrest while the hard muscles of his arm acted like an iron band across her breasts to keep her in her seat. The thin, synthetic material of her blouse transmitted his searing body heat to her soft flesh.

"I accepted your ride home. Now will you please let me get out?"

Tongues of charged lightning licked along her spine as she made her haughty demand.

His rough, masculine face was close, narrowed blue eyes studying her features, focusing at last on the mutinous set of her lips. One side of his mouth quirked upward at the corner.

"You aren't as skinny as I thought," Morgan commented blandly.

Patty had tolerated the arm across her breasts because she hadn't wanted to draw attention to the uncomfortable intimacy of his touch. Foolishly, she thought he hadn't noticed. A bright glitter sparkled in his eyes as she tried to push him away.

"I was only going to take a kiss for luck," he chuckled.

"Take it," she challenged with cold defiance. "It will only bring you bad luck."

His thumb forced her chin up as Morgan accepted her challenge. Warm breath touch her lips an instant before his mouth claimed hers. Flash fire raced through her veins, quickly burning itself out when the firm pressure was lifted from her lips. Resentment smoldered in the look she gave him.

"Happy nightmares." Morgan winked good-humoredly, and without another word clicked open the door and slid back behind the wheel.

Chapter Three

UNWRAPPING THE LAST of the protective leg cottons from the white horses leg, Patty straightened, arching her back to relieve the fatigue of the long drive. The travel days in
between rodeos always seemed much longer than other days with so much preparation to be done before leaving and upon arrival at their destination.

After affectionately stroking Legend's silken neck, Patty gathered the cotton and bandages and walked to the tack compartment of the goose-necked horse trailer. The crunch of footsteps on the gravelly sand sounded behind her and she glanced over her shoulder.

"Hi, grandpa. Are you all done or do you need some help?" she asked.

"I'm all done except for Liberty," he answered, a look of tired concern on his tanned, ageless face. "I thought the roads were smooth enough that we didn't need to apply any cold water midway through the trip, but I guess the long haul was too long. There's a slight swelling in his legs."

"Thank heaven we don't have a performance tonight," Patty sighed. "Do you want me to help rub him down?"

"No." Everett King waved aside her offer. "Go put on a pot of coffee and get our trailer straightened around."

"That sounds like a grand idea," Patty agreed with weary enthusiasm, handing the leg wrappings to her grandfather to put away.

As Patty left the stabling area and headed toward their travel trailer, the blare of a semi-trailer horn tooted behind her. Her steps slowed to wait for the large track to pass. The stock trailer behind the tractor was emblazoned with the words Kincaid Rodeo Company. There was a shifting of gears as the truck rolled alongside her.

"Hello, Princess. Where are you off to?" The truck slowed to a stop while the cowboy driver stuck his head out of the window, the wide-brimmed white hat tilted at a cocky angle to reveal waving light brown hair.

"Hi, Jack!" Patty returned gaily, her feet moving lightly over the ground as she moved toward the cab of the truck. "Just heading to the trailer to fix some coffee."

"You have your horses all settled in, huh?" he asked rhetorically, and motioned toward the back end of the truck. "I'll be getting rid of my cargo of bulls pretty soon myself."

"When did you start driving for Morgan?" She stood on the running board to raise herself to his level.

"Since I finished out of the averages at the last four rodeos and discovered my pockets were empty," Jack Evans grinned.

"That's what you get for looking at the girls in the short skirts sitting in the box seats instead of paying attention to the bucking horse you're riding," Patty teased.

A boyish look filled with appealing charm stole across his face. "What I really need is a sweet, steady girl to keep me in line. Why don't you volunteer for the job, Princess? We'd make a great combination."

"If I ever took your flirting seriously, Jack Evans, you would fly out of here as fast as a horse that's just backed into an electric fence," Patty replied lightly.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that." He cocked his head to the side in denial as his gaze roamed over her face and the dimples in her cheeks. "The more I keep looking into your baby brown eyes and seeing that image of slippers and pipe, the more inviting it becomes."

A pair of large strong hands nearly circled Patty's waist from behind as she was lifted from the running board and set on the ground, despite her startled outcry of protest.

"Sorry to end your charming little scene, Skinny," Morgan Kincaid's voice carried no apologetic tone. "But I have to get those bulls unloaded and settled in."

"You could have said so!" Patty retorted, recovering with angry swiftness from her surprise. "You didn't have to manhandle me!"

The smile he gave her was cold. "You haven't been manhandled enough to know the meaning of the word."

Then the steel gaze was turned to the cowboy already shifting the truck back into gear. "Get that truck up to the pens, Jack."

"Right away, Morgan," Jack Evans agreed cheerfully, addressing a one-fingered salute to Patty. "See you later, Princess."
 

"What are you princess of?" There was a harsh, mocking look in the eyes Morgan turned to her. "Ice or snow?"
 

Since that night more than a week ago, Patty had deliberately ignored Morgan, responding with chilling civility only if he addressed her directly.

"You'll have to ask Jack," she answered sarcastically.

"I wondered how long it would take Jack to get around to giving you the rush," he mused thoughtfully. "He's made the rounds with nearly all the other girls on the circuit."

"Look who's talking!" There was a haughty arch to her finely drawn brow.

The action seemed to amuse him. "I'd love to stand here and argue with you, if only to keep in practice. Unfortunately I have other things to do." He took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face her trailer. With an insulting slap on her rump, he sent her on her way. "Get along home, Skinny. You'll have to sharpen your tongue on me another day."

There had been a sting to his slap and Patty had to resist the desire to rub the smarting area. She spun around to fling a last poisonous dart at him and discovered his long strides had already taken him several yards away in the direction of the semi-trailer truck.

With her target practically out of range, she pivoted sharply toward the trailer, her unvented temper adding haste to her footsteps. She cursed herself for letting Morgan get under her skin the way she did.

It was that all-knowing attitude of his that irritated her, that and the way he laughed, at her. All she had to do was see him and the happiest song would hit a sour note.