The Wrangler (23 page)

"It's enough to hope. Half of what we need, but as long as you and I have the stallion, it's likely the mares will follow."

"I can't believe this." She opened the barn door. "It's really happening. I feel like a horse rancher already."

"Wait until you're in the middle of the herd bringing them home." He knuckled back the brim of her hat.

A powerful heat flowed through her, quivering low in her belly as her gaze met his. His naked gaze was bared to her of all pretense or defense, and it felt as if he'd penetrated her, although that made no sense, as if they were flesh to flesh, joined as one. She didn't know intimacy could be emotional, too. She wanted him in all ways.

She knew he wanted her, too. His rapid intake of breath. His pulse strumming at the base of his throat. The deep pools his eyes had become.

"C'mon," he said. "Let's go catch your dreams."

 * * *

The mustangs slept in the protected draw, the stallion drowsing on all fours. They looked mythical in the moonlight, brushed with silver and shadows. Kit's heart swelled as she watched them, stretched out on her stomach. Dakota, beside her, held up his hat and waved it.

Far out on the prairie, careful not to make a sound, Red's hat waved back. He, Fred and Baldy were in place.

Dakota crept back from the ridge and rose soundlessly to his feet. His hand caught hers and helped her up.

"We still have the advantage of surprise." He held Blue's reins for her.

"That's a good sign." She shook out her lasso, tested the knot and coiled it up. Her palms were damp beneath the gloves. Excitement tripped through her.

"Let's ride." Dakota settled in his saddle, lasso in hand, reins tied together and resting on Jack's neck, and sent him flying.

He rode like a warrior, barely holding the reins, double lassos hanging from his saddle horn. He clung to the horse with his knees, sitting as if he'd been born to ride. Born for this. The exhilaration she felt galloping down the ridge with the wind in her face was nothing compared to him.

The stallion below bolted awake, spotting them charging down the grassy slope. His shrill neigh of alarm woke his slumbering herd. Mares jerked awake, called out to their young and lunged to life, running away from danger. But more riders appeared, with Fred in the middle, to block their way.
Pop, pop, pop.
Red sent a few harmless shots into the air to send them circling back to the draw.

Kit rode toward the swarm with Dakota at her side. The stallion and his herd raced closer in an all-out gallop. The moon lit the scene—the dark swarm of horses, the men riding behind them and the shadowed cottonwoods blocking a quick escape.

"Stay left," Dakota shouted above the chaos.

The black stallion swung away from them, trying to escape the trap they were setting, so she shot Blue forward at full-speed. The wind whipped her face as she stood in her stirrups, fighting to keep her balance on the uneven terrain. She swung her lasso, the rope pliable in her hand. As she sighted, Blue gained on the stallion.

Dakota appeared out of nowhere, closing the gap, his noose snaking out in the darkness like a black cobra. It struck, sliding over the stallion's head and pulled tight. The animal reared in fury and fear, hooves slashing. Dakota spurred Jack back to a safe distance, never letting the rope go slack.

"You can do it, Kit." His steadfast voice should have been drown out by the noise of men and horses and shouted conversations, but it was the only sound she heard. "Just like last time."

As if time stood still, she swung the lasso, sighted and flicked her wrist. The rope slapped the black stallion in the ear, fell lopsided over the side of his head and slid down around his neck.

"Block the mares, Fred," Dakota shouted, his attention on holding the fighting stallion.

She could see why. The rope she held came alive as the animal thrashed and fought, bucked and reared, enraged at his capture. Sympathy cut deep as she maneuvered Blue to keep the lasso taut. She understood what the stallion was losing. She vowed to make sure that what he and his mares gained was worth it.

"Got 'im!" Zeb's rope sailed in, adding three lines to hold the powerful animal. The stallion neighed his rage and landed on all fours, eyeing his captors. He bared his teeth and focused on her, perhaps thinking she was the weakest link, and charged.

"Hold him!" Dakota shouted, drawing Jack back, expertly hauling the stallion back with him. "Keep the lines tight."

In concert, they surged forward, manhandling the stallion. Her every sense and all her concentration were focused on his movements. The instant his muscles coiled, his big powerful body ready to spring, she urged Blue sideways, Zeb and his horse pulled back, and Dakota wrestled the stallion down with the rope and the power in his arms.

Every step felt like an eternity. The wild stallion tried again and again until he was lathered and wheezing from the effort. Still he fought as they hauled him through the draw onto the prairie. More riders appeared on both sides to keep the mares from escaping. A few got away, but the mostly inexperienced riders held the herd together until the stallion stopped fighting, finally exhausted, and hung his head. Mindy and Mrs. Mason were holding wide the double gates of the holding corral.

Kit was the first to release her rope from her saddle horn when she reached the gate. She moved aside for Zeb and Dakota to do the same.

Skinny and Dewayne rode up to block the spaces between the barn and the corral. The sheriff shouted, spurring the frightened mares into the enclosure. The animals milled around, searching for a way out. With the tall posts and thick rails, they weren't going anywhere.

Vince rushed in to help Mindy and Effie swing the heavy gates closed.

"That's quite a herd," he said appreciatively.

"Yes, it is." Kit dismounted and hardly felt her feet hit the ground. Every muscle she owned ached from exertion. She swiped sweat off her forehead with her shirtsleeve and leaned against the fence for support. She was so tired, little tremors rolled through her, but she didn't care. A whole new life spread out before her. She could make a real living here, one she'd always dreamed of.

She could have done it on her own, but Dakota had made it easier. He'd made it better.

Her gaze found him against the rails, and her entire being stilled. Rapt, she watched as he met the stallion eye to eye.

The big creature seemed to know Dakota was in charge, and stared at him with ears pinned back, teeth bared, ready to fight. The man met the animal's gaze. When the stallion moved away, he was calmer, anxious to check on his mares and offspring, nosing each one to make sure they were all right.

"That man's a natural born horseman." Zeb leaned in, his admiration obvious. "You've got to respect that."

That was exactly how she felt. Dakota guided Jack along the corral rails, sitting tall in his saddle keeping an eye on the herd. The moonlight found him, showing every shadow and every strength.

There was so much she didn't know about him—the painful history he couldn't talk about, the wounds she sensed and those she saw—but she knew everything she needed to. He was the man she loved. The only man she would ever love.

"That was some good riding you did, Zeb." Dakota swept off his hat, riding up. "You're a skilled horseman."

"It was nothing compared to you. Where did you learn to rope like that? The way you handled that stallion. It was like you knew what he was gonna do before he did it."

"I've always had a knack." Dakota lifted one wide shoulder in an unassuming shrug, turning to Kit. Mountain hard, but everything softened when he spotted her. "You have a knack, too."

"Just doing what you told me to do. I learned from the best." She smiled at him. The absolute best.

Horse hooves drummed up. Red, Fred and Baldy trotted into sight with two mares and colts. Vince hauled open the gate, and Red drove the animals in.

"Golly, that was fun." Fred slipped off Mrs. Mason's gentle gelding. "We wrangled up those two mares. Did you see, Kit?"

"I saw. I'm proud of you, buddy." She hardly recognized him. Eyes beaming, a smile stretching his face, he set his shoulders and hitched his new hat, mimicking Dakota.

"If it wasn't for Fred, they woulda got away," Red piped up as he shifted in his saddle. "He's a real good horseman."

Fred beamed more brightly.

"That was one heck of a round-up." Baldy pulled a bottle from his saddle pack and opened it. "Outlaw, ya sure know how to run things. Is Howie gonna keep ya on?"

"That's the rumor." If he had his way, he'd stay forever. Judging by her smile, Kit felt the same way. It looked like his luck really had changed.

Most of the men hauled tins out of their packs and held them up to Baldy, who filled each with a generous splash of whiskey. Folks drank up, tins winking in the moonlight. Fred clung to the fence, watching the horses, now winded and lathered, heads down, trying to catch their breath.

Dakota hooked an arm around Kit, pulling her against his side. Her sweet mouth went tender, as if she was thinking of kissing him, and desire kicked through him with blinding force. He ached for her in all ways. He kissed the top of her head lightly, tenderness filling him until he drowned.

"Everyone is packing up. I should go help." She twirled away from him. "But I'll be back."

"Lucky me."

"Tell Howie he missed one heck of a time." Skinny drained the last drop from his tin. "I don't mind that he's gone, but between you and me, Missy, when he shows up next time to play poker, leave off that mustache."

"You knew? The whole time?"

"You fooled us fer a while, but I'm not as drunk as I usually am tonight." He tipped his hat. "Yer welcome anytime, Missy."

It looked like her secret was out. Perhaps she shouldn't have worn trousers tonight, but riding well enough to capture the mustangs had been more important. Vince came up to say goodbye. A bunch of folks were packed up, waving farewell as they headed out. Baldy and Skinny sang a cowpoke song at the top of their lungs. They toasted her soundly before they rode away.

Kit was so absorbed in calling out thanks and farewells that she couldn’t say the exact moment when Dakota left her side. She looked for him in the crowd, but only caught the sheriff watching her.

She hustled Fred off to wash up for bed. She carried water for the morning's kitchen work for Mindy and in the house complimented her for all she'd done, cooking for and mingling with strangers.

"They don't feel like strangers anymore," Mindy admitted as she crawled back into bed. "They feel like neighbors."

"I know what you mean." This lonely piece of land that had once felt at the edge of the civilized world had become home.

She wished Mindy good night. Fred was sound asleep, sprawled across the top of his bed, still in his clothes. She covered him with a quilt on her way to the door.

She found Dakota at the corral rails. When he turned to her a slow smile hung on the corners of his mouth. The mares and babies had settled down in soft grasses, exhausted from their flight and the anxiety of their imprisonment. But the stallion ran along the fence, disappearing in the shadows.

"He's trying to find a weak spot in the fence." His words fanned over the exposed skin on her nape.

She felt her body respond. "He'll wear himself out trying. That fence doesn't have a weak spot."

"Still, he has to try. Speaking of weak spots—" He hauled her against a fence post and pressed into her. "I have a weakness for you."

"Maybe I should exploit it."

"Maybe." He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, sending tiny trails of sensation along the sensitized flesh. Desire melted inside her, stirring and building.

Someone cleared his throat. She blushed and slipped away. "Hi, Red."

"Miss." He tipped his hat, looking firmly at the ground. "About the job?"

"I can't pay much, but you did a fine job tonight."

"Everyone speaks highly of you," Dakota added. "I did some asking around. Tomorrow you and I will take the wagon and get enough lumber to finish the house and build a bunkhouse for the two of us."

"I'm good with a hammer." Red's relief was palpable. "This means a lot. I won't let ya down. See ya bright and early?"

"Get a few hours of sleep and be back after sunrise. We'll have breakfast and head out." He leaned against the fence. It felt good to have that settled.

Red said good night, hurrying off to his room in town. Only one of the volunteers remained, stepping out of the shadows.

"That's a fine herd you got there, little lady." Beauregard ambled closer, into the fall of waning moonlight. His gaze went cold and hard—lawman's eyes.

Dakota felt his stomach tumble. He had one brief hope—maybe it was a prayer—that Beauregard had come to talk about Tannen.
That had to be it,
he thought desperately, even as he knew. He felt the punch of it in his stomach and the ground give out beneath his feet.

"Seeing you with the horses tonight sparked a memory." The lawman moseyed closer, his hand on the butt of his holstered revolver.

"Why don't we talk about this alone, just you and me." The words croaked out, full of strain. Of disbelief. He'd actually talked himself into thinking this wouldn't happen.

"Guess you would be ashamed of what you did. Wouldn't want the little lady to know." His weathered face hardened.

Dakota shook his head. "No. I don't want to hurt her. It will be harder for her this way."

"I'm not going to let you hurt her a minute longer." Beauregard stopped, feet braced, looking like the lieutenant colonel he used to be. "I waited until everyone was gone. If I'd said something tonight after the mustangs were in, I'd have had a lynch mob on my hands. That might not have been a bad thing."

He hung his head, feeling Kit's confusion.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Dakota?"

He died inside, knowing what was to come.

"There's a lot you don't know about this man trying to charm you, young lady." Disgust rang hard in the lawman's tone. "Do you want to tell her, Outlaw?"

He opened his mouth. Couldn’t find the words.