The Wrangler (11 page)

"What? I love them. Pa had a pair just like them."

"Did you notice that I don't? Tannen doesn't. The gunslinger friend of his didn’t either."

"Are you suggesting I shouldn't wear my suspenders next time? What if my trousers start to slide down?"

"Borrow a belt."

Humor twinkled in her blue eyes. "Are you going to find fault with my shirt next?"

"Your bigger problem is the way you flounce into a chair. Try plopping straight down next time. Sit with your knees apart and slump a little. What are you doing?"

"Trying to get my mouth to look tough like yours." She moved her lips and jaw around, trying to imitate him. The action only made her look cute. Adorable. Her goodness and innocence shone like the rays of sun surrounding her. There was no faking that. "Well, darn, I don't have it yet, but I figure if I can make my face look tougher, then maybe everyone will believe it. Maybe no one else will try to rob me like last night."

"Did Tannen hurt you?"

"Nothing but a few bruises I found this morning. But this gambling part of my plan has some unforeseen problems I need to figure out. Since Pa never had problems getting robbed, it never occurred to me."

"That's because whatever your pa won, he usually lost it before he walked away from the game. Am I right?"

"That was Pa exactly." She folded a strip of muslin around his arm and began wrapping. "How did you know?"

"I've seen it before."

"Gambling has a hold on him nothing can break." She loved her father, she missed him sorely. It was easier on her heart not to talk about him.

"It's tough when your parents are only human," Dakota said with understanding.

"Exactly." She swallowed hard. "I'm worried about disappointing Fred and Mindy. Pa always did. Folks always say I'm a lot like him."

"You're strong and resilient and loyal. I don't see you ever leaving anyone behind."

"I had a better childhood than my pa." She remembered the scars on Dakota's back and wondered. Were those old injuries the reason he kept to himself, always holding back, never letting down his guard? What had he learned about people and trust growing up?

It was troubling that she wanted to know that much about him. "There's still time for my brother and sister. They should be going to school and having friends, not worrying about going back to living out of the wagon."

"See, right there? That's where you're different from your pa."

"There's a school being built over in Gold Dust City. It's an hour by horse, but it will be worth it. I'm planning on Fred and Mindy going next month."

"Sounds like you have a lot of plans."

"Guilty." Her fingers grazed the heated steel of his bicep, even when she was trying not to touch him. Every time she did, little tingles settled in her stomach. "By this time next year, I'll be like everyone else making a living on these prairies."

"You are nothing like everyone else." He brushed a tangle of hair out of her eyes. "That's a good thing, Kit. I like you, and I don't find much to like in a lot of women."

"Well, thank you, but I don't like you a bit." Heat burned across her face. She wound the bandage around his arm, close enough to inhale the warm, pleasant male scent of his skin.

"That's a relief." Amusement drew lines into the corners of his eyes, adding character. "I wouldn't want you to spark to me. I'd only break your heart."

"My heart is mine and mine alone. I'm giving it to no man. I'm too smart for that." She knotted the bandage, gave it a tug to make sure it would hold and realized she was nearly kissing close.

She'd never felt tenderness toward anyone like this. Her tongue went dry, her palms damp. A strong, unbidden longing roared through her. What would it feel like to lay her hand there, along the line of his jaw? For the first time in her life, she wondered what it would be like to be kissed.

"I'm determined to be one of those spinsters," she explained. "You know, the kind who takes better care of herself than any man can do."

"That's too bad. I'm sure many hearts will be broken over the years."

"Are you trying to get on my good side by flattering me?"

"You mean I'm not already there?"

They shared a smile. Coolish wind made her shiver, even in full sun. It took her a moment to realize thunderheads were building in the southwestern sky, huge white mammoths overtaking the blue.

She snatched up his shirt, glad for the chance to put some distance between them. "Put this on. Get a little more rest. I'll bring you a supper plate."

"Now you think you can give me orders?"

"Someone has to." She ignored the powerful image he made—tough renegade, charming grin, crinkly eyes. Bare chested, his sun-browned skin showed every delineation of muscle, every ridge, the bandage a white slash on his thick upper arm.

If only she could ignore the tenderness she felt as she scurried away.

 * * *

The storm struck before nightfall. The wind changed direction, carrying the smell of rain. The palomino mare climbed to her feet, tugging at her tether, feet dancing and skin crawling.

"You afraid of storms, girl?" Dakota kept his voice calm and easy, letting her see he wasn't afraid, so she wouldn't be. "Bet you're missing your herd right now. They were your family."

Pleading brown eyes watched him, as if begging him not to leave her alone.

"Well, we're your family now." He moved his injured arm, bit back a grimace and loosened the knot in the rope holding her. "Let's get you inside."

The first spark of lightning stabbed through the charcoal clouds far to the south. He got her into the soddy before the first roll of thunder echoed across the sky. He calmed her and locked her in the farthest stall. Rain came down in an explosion, hitting the ground like a thousand bullets.

"That's a girl. It'll be all right." He stroked her nose, kept his heart open, letting her know she was safe. He'd make sure she was safe. She pressed her muzzle into the palm of his hand, as if she understood.

At least it looked as if they were making a connection.

"Dakota." Fred burst into the soddy, dripping wet, gripping the gelding's lead with both hands. The big bay gave a grateful sigh when he spotted his open stall. "Glad you got that mare in. I couldn't have done it."

"Where's Kit?"

"Chasin' Blue. He got away. He pulled his lead right out of her hands." The boy closed the stall door, trapping the gelding inside. "He sure don't like storms."

"I'll give her a hand." Dakota tugged down his hat, patted the kid's shoulder and ducked into the storm.

The wind hit like a hammer, slamming rain into him as he charged across the sodden prairie. He splashed through pooling water, searching through the gray veil for any sign of Kit. In the far meadow he caught a hint of blue, there and then gone. He headed out toward her.

Lightning arced across the sky in a white-hot flash. He saw Kit with her blond hair damp to her back, her dress wet and clinging to her curves as she raced in Blue's direction. The terrified horse was in mid-rear, front hooves slashing the air. His lead rope dangled free.

"Blue!" Kit's call carried on the harsh wind. "Blue! C'mon, buddy, let's get—"

Thunder cannoned, rattling the earth at his feet, and even though he was running full out, he couldn't get there in time to stop the stallion from taking off. Blue launched into a full run, charging blindly into the storm.

That spelled trouble. Ignoring the danger of running into an open field, Dakota went after him full speed. The horse calmed once the thunder clap silenced and circled closer. Blue skidded to a stop, standing forlorn, his ears pricked, shivering with fear and cold.

Poor fella. Dakota grabbed the lead rope as lightning flared again, eerily bright. The bolt overhead sent the air crackling and every hair on his forearms stood straight up. Thunder fired instantly, blasting like the sounds of war.

The flashback came swiftly, ringing in his ears with the chaos of gunfire, screams of pain, the barking orders of his commanding officer. He fought to keep his mind on the present, on the rope burning against his palm, the faint scent of strawberries as Kit's warm body skimmed his, caught the rope, and they held the rearing stallion together. The horse's front hooves pawed the air wildly, eyes rimmed white with fear.

"Easy, sweetheart," Kit's gentle alto was meant to bring Blue to his senses.

But it worked on him too. Dakota swallowed, fighting against the memories of the scent of gunpowder and the sight of blood, of charging across a field as his comrades fell.

"Dakota?" Her voice penetrated the past. Her touch on his arm brought him back. "Are you all right?"

"Fine." It wasn't the truth, not really. Maybe in a different world, his life might have gone in a better direction, and he could be free to care for a woman like Kit. Maybe then he could think about courting, proposing, getting married. Spending his life providing for his beloved wife and family, spending evenings in their happy company. He'd be a man with everything.

Just dreams, that's all.

They battled the storm together, leading Blue to shelter. The moment the stallion stepped into the barn, his fear ebbed. He looked relieved and put himself in his stall.

"Where's Fred?" Dakota hung back, his guards down. He didn't know if it was the flashback or because of her.

"Probably helping Mindy at the tent. We have a few holes in the roof." Kit grabbed a towel and slipped into Blue's stall. "Don't worry, we're used to it. That canvas is all we used to have over our heads when we lived in the wagon. We have rainstorms down to a routine. Get out the buckets and the pots."

"Maybe you should forget about the horses and build a house first." He hung up his dripping hat, grabbed the last towel from the shelf and joined her in the stall. "Winter will be here before you know it."

"Are you starting to worry about me?"

"Not a chance. Just trying to be helpful." Not the truth, but she didn't need to know that. She didn't need to know that when he looked at her, he saw all that he had ever wanted once, when he'd been naive enough to dream.

Blue snuffled Kit's shoulder before pressing his face against the curve of her neck.

"It's all right, boy, I understand." She stopped to wrap her arms around her horse, and pressed her forehead against him. "I know you were scared. It's okay."

What an image they made, woman and stallion, best friends. Dakota's heart warmed, like a new flame burning. Kit was everything he'd ever wanted.

"That's my good boy." She laughed when the horse nibbled her cheek in a horsy kiss. "Looks like Dakota has finished rubbing you down. You'll be safe here. I'll be back, don't worry."

Blue's pleading eyes begged Kit to stay. Dakota took the damp towel from her and tossed it over a hook in the wall. He waited to latch the stall until Kit had torn herself away from Blue's side.

He hesitated in the doorway. Rain hurled to the ground like pellets, bouncing several inches.

"Do we dare go out in that?" Kit asked, squeezing against him to look out at the downpour. "We're lucky that isn't hail."

"You spoke too soon." The drum of the rain changed pitch, and ice pellets bulleted to the ground. His arm slipped around her shoulders to keep her from charging into it anyway. "Looks like we're stuck here for a bit."

"Looks like it." She shivered. Her teeth chattered.

"You're freezing," he realized. No wonder. Her dress was plastered to her body like a second skin, her hair dripped. He pulled her against him, into his warmth. It amazed him that she didn't pull away.

Nothing had ever felt this right. He curved his body around her, protecting her from the worst of the wind. His lips brushed her temple. She pressed her cheek against his chest, burrowing into his warmth. Desire pulsed through him, heating his blood, and he held her tenderly until the storm ended. His tenderness for her was the one weakness he could not fight.

Chapter Nine

Dawn's light skimmed across the ocean of prairie, grass undulating for miles like the push and pull of tides. Kit splashed cool creek water over her face, unable to forget what happened last night. Birds chattered and flitted as they did every morning, as if nothing had changed.

But everything had changed. She'd let a man hold her—correct that, she'd held on tightly to him. That was not in her plan. She patted dry with a towel, hung it on a cottonwood limb and ran a comb through her hair.

The ravages of last night's squall lay all around her, leaves torn from their branches, a few dead branches torn from their trees and creek water was high and fast-moving from the rain and hail. If she closed her eyes, she could remember Dakota's arms around her, protecting her from the chilly wind. His tenderness had burrowed into her, becoming a part of her.

It couldn’t be undone.

The scent of wood smoke drew her away from the creek bank. The earth was still soggy in low places where water had pooled, and she padded around them on her bare feet. Her comb in hand, her hair cascading down her back, she spotted him kneeling in front of the fire pit, ringed by stones. He was in profile, his black Stetson at a jaunty angle to hide most of his face, all she could see was the whisker-rough line of his jaw. His big, capable hands fed kindling to the new flames.

"Where did you find anything dry enough?" she asked.

"I have my ways." Bits of twigs and mossy bark sizzled and snapped. "Were you able to get some sleep last night?"

"A little." The hail had turned back to rain after a bit, and Dakota had escorted her to the tent. "Although the sound of water dripping into pots and buckets woke me up a few times. How about you?"

"The thunder stopped in the wee hours, and the horses settled down to sleep. Which meant I could, too."

"The stable must have been crowded."

"I had the aisle all to myself." He thumbed back his hat to peer up at her with his midnight gaze.

Her eyes met his. A quiver rocked through her, remembering the heated granite of his chest against her cheek. She wouldn't mind being held by him again. "I wish we had more to offer you, since you refuse to stay in the tent."