Cowboy for Keeps (5 page)

Conner saw her point. But he’d been raised by parents who
instilled traditional values in him. “Richard’s trying to do the honorable
thing. You might be happier than you think you’ll be.”

“We both know that a marriage license is no guarantee. My
father left when I was a child. Yours when you were, what? Eighteen?”

“Twenty.”

“And I bet being older didn’t make it hurt any less.”

“My argument exactly. If Richard were to bail on you and the
baby—”

“Then I’d go after him.” She finished Conner’s sentence for
him. “I don’t need a marriage license for that. But he won’t bail, because he
isn’t the kind of man to abandon his child. Like you said before, he’s
responsible. Dependable. He’s paying for any medical expenses my insurance
doesn’t cover. Agreed to buy baby furniture and clothes. List me and the baby on
as beneficiaries on his life insurance.”

It was difficult for Conner to concentrate with their legs
glued together, her chest rising and falling, and those laser sharp eyes
fastened on him.

“What about visitation?”

“I’ll make sure Richard has every opportunity to play as large
a role in our child’s life as he chooses.”

“It’s not the same as a kid living with his dad. Just look at
your own childhood.”

She bristled. “This really is none of your business.”

“You’re right,” Conner admitted, chagrined.

“Would you marry someone you weren’t crazy about?”

“That’s just it.” Conner quit listening to the voice of reason
and leaned in. Lowered his head. “Richard’s a damn idiot for not being crazy
about
you.
Any man in his right mind would be.”

She stared at him wordlessly.

“Dallas, I...” He’d blown it. Said something he shouldn’t have.
“I’m just...”

“Are you?” she whispered.

“What?”

“Crazy about me?”

“Yes.” Crazy about her and plain crazy. He had to be. If not,
he wouldn’t be closing the small distance separating them and seeking her mouth
with his.

Their lips grazed briefly. Before his could settle possessively
on hers, one of the horses whinnied shrilly. The possibility that their rescuers
had arrived was enough to give Conner a jolt and bring him to his senses. Was he
insane?

He broke off their near kiss and listened for the ATVs, acutely
aware of their incriminating proximity. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Really?” Dallas gazed deeply at him. “Because I did.”

His heart, already hammering, nearly exploded.

Dolly whinnied again.

“We should probably talk about this. Later.” Rising from the
wagon seat, Conner craned his neck and peered up the hill, the direction from
which he expected Gavin to appear.

“Do you see them?” Dallas pushed to her feet, as well.

“No.” And that was strange. What had alerted the horses?

It was then that he noticed Molly and Dolly staring in the
opposite direction, toward the bottom of the hill, their eyes wide and ears
pricked forward.

The skin on the back of Conner’s neck began to tingle. More
than one kind of predator made these mountains their home. Bobcats, mountain
lions and coyotes to name a few. He reached for Dallas’s hand.

“What’s wrong?” She gripped his fingers tightly.

“I’m not sure yet.”

Dolly whinnied again. To Conner’s shock, it was answered by an
echoing whinny from around the bend at the bottom of the hill.

“What the...”

“Look!” Dallas clutched his arm. “It’s a horse.”

“Two horses.” As Conner spoke, the pair emerged fully into
view.

The larger one, a mare, was flanked closely by a youngster, no
more than six or eight months old by the size of him. The pair progressed
cautiously up the hill toward Dolly and Molly, heads bobbing, the colt’s dainty
legs dancing.

“Are they wild mustangs? Like Prince?” Dallas watched in
amazement.

“That would be too much of a coincidence.” Even so, Conner
entertained the possibility. He and Dallas crept forward, edging alongside the
wagon. “Careful, we don’t want to scare them.”

The mare, a sturdy tan-and-gray Appaloosa, had eyes only for
Dolly and Molly. As she neared, Conner spotted something wrong, something that
caused his blood to run ice-cold and his anger to burn.

“What’s that in her neck?” Dallas asked. “A stick?”

“An arrow. And there’s a second one imbedded in her back.”

Chapter Five

Dallas needed her camera. Right away, before the mare
and colt ran off. Making as little noise as possible, she reached over the side
of the wagon for her bag, and then crept forward.

“Wait,” Conner instructed in a low voice. “She looks tame.
Let’s see if I can get her to come to me.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Dallas whispered back. “I want pictures.
To show people.”

He gave her an arch look.

“This is cruelty to animals,” she insisted. “Whoever did it
needs to be punished. Pictures can be used as evidence.”

“We have to catch the mare first. Even then, I doubt the
authorities will find the culprit. It probably happened weeks ago.”

Weeks ago? That poor animal.

Conner rummaged around the wagon bed and removed a coiled rope.
“When, and only when, I tell you, bring this to me.”

Dallas took the rope and stayed put, although she would rather
have gone with Conner.

What sane person would shoot an innocent horse with a bow and
arrows? The thought made her heart constrict. Fortunately, the colt, a miniature
version of his mother, appeared uninjured. Small consolation. If his mother
died—infections could linger—he’d be left to fend for himself, with practically
no chance of survival.

Good thing she and Conner had come along when they did, and
that the wagon wheel had broken.

The mare gave Dallas and Conner only a cursory glance. She
instead fixated on Dolly and Molly, who fidgeted nervously and tugged on their
lead ropes.

Dallas wasn’t sure if the draft horses wanted to be friends
with the newcomers or run from them. The colt was also undecided and pranced
skittishly in circles around his mother, while eyeing Conner warily. Had he ever
encountered humans before?

Excitement coursed through Dallas. The colt, she realized, must
have been born here in the mountains. Like Prince!

Slinging the coiled rope over her shoulder, she removed her
camera from the bag, one eye fastened on Conner.

Rather than continue toward the mare and colt, he changed
direction and headed instead to Dolly and Molly.

“What are you doing?” Dallas asked in a loud whisper.

He held out a hand, indicating for her to be quiet.

Impatience clawed at her. What if the mare and colt ran off
before she got a decent shot? Ignoring Conner’s directive, she inched out in
front of the wagon and began taking pictures.

A moment later Conner reached Molly and untied her lead rope.
His intention became evident when he began walking with her back to the wagon.
He was trying to see if the mare and colt would follow.

Capturing the pair might turn out to be a simple as leading
them home.

Dallas gave Conner credit for his ingenuity, and then admired
it as the mare broke into a trot to catch up with Molly. The colt bucked twice
for good measure before loping alongside the mare, his slender legs moving
gracefully.

Conner’s grin conveyed his satisfaction with the outcome.

Dallas deftly switched to a zoom lens. Appalled at the
unspeakable and senseless cruelty of some people, she forced herself to keep
snapping shots.

“Bring the rope,” Conner said.

She stopped shooting and did as he requested. “Oh, dear God,”
she murmured, upon witnessing the mare’s wounds up close and without a camera
lens filtering her view. “She must be in terrible pain.”

“Bad, isn’t it?”

One arrow was imbedded in the muscles of her neck and stuck
straight out at a ninety degree angle. The other one had completely pierced the
flesh of her back, six or so inches behind her withers. Red and yellow feathers
protruded from one end, a bladed arrowhead from the other.

Dried blood the color of tar stained the mare’s hide near both
wounds, and traveled in a drip pattern down the entire length of her right
shoulder and leg. The darkened flesh surrounding the puncture wounds curled
away, leaving gaping, abscessed holes.

“You okay?” Conner’s voice had an odd, tinny quality to it.

“Fine.” Only Dallas wasn’t fine. The ground rippled under her
feet, and her vision dimmed.

She’d fainted only once before, as a teenager when she had her
wisdom teeth removed, but she remembered the sensation well.

“You don’t look fine.” He supported her elbow.

“Pregnant, is all.” She fought for control, barely winning the
battle.

“Easy now,” Conner said, using the same coaxing tone he did
when talking to the horses.

She saw now why they responded to him.

Accepting the support he offered, she leaned on him until the
dizziness passed and her head cleared. “I feel stupid.”

“Don’t. Gives me another reason to hold you.”

Was he joking?

“What about the mare and colt?”

“Right here. I don’t think she’s going to give us any
trouble.”

“Good. She needs treatment.” Steadier and stronger, Dallas
edged away from Conner. “I’m better now. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

When he offered her a smile, her insides fluttered.

They really should stop flirting and holding each other if they
expected to maintain a strictly professional relationship.

Who was she kidding? Their strictly professional relationship
had gone by the wayside the moment his lips grazed hers. Probably sooner than
that.

“You should tie up that mare before she changes her mind.”

Conner nodded, his hazel eyes lingering on Dallas.

Enough already,
she told herself.
She couldn’t continue this—whatever it was with Conner—any longer. She was
pregnant and not in the market for a man. Certainly not until she’d determined
how, exactly, she was going to continue working while raising her baby as a
single mother.

And any man she did choose wouldn’t have had his job taken from
him by her baby’s father.

Conner might find her attractive now, but that would change the
moment she started to show. Every time he looked at her, he’d be reminded of
Richard.

“You mind holding Molly? If you’re up to it.” He passed her the
mare’s lead rope.

“I’m up to it.” Dallas was glad to help. And glad for something
to distract her from her thoughts about Conner, what they’d once had and what
they possibly could have again.

“If she gives you any trouble,” he said, “just let go of the
rope.”

“She won’t.” Dallas rubbed Molly’s nose. The big horse snorted
lustily before nudging Dallas’s hand in a bid for more petting. “See?”

Dolly, still tied to the tree branch, had lost interest and was
dozing, the deerfly buzzing near her head going unnoticed.

Conner turned toward the injured mare. Amazingly, she’d
remained where she was, not far from Molly. “Here, girl.” He approached slowly,
the rope held at his side.

The mare stared at him, her gaze a mixture of curiosity and
trepidation. She might have been raised by humans, but she didn’t trust them
unconditionally. Her colt stood behind her large, round rump, head peeking out.
If not for the instinct to stay with his dam, he’d have scampered off a long
time ago.

“That’s it.” Conner took another step.

Dallas suddenly remembered her camera. Stuffing Molly’s lead in
the crook of her arm, she started snapping pictures, grateful that there was
still enough light.

How could she have forgotten to take pictures?

Simple. Conner.

He held out his hand, palm up. The mare arched her neck,
sniffed him and jerked back, before sniffing again. Eventually, to Dallas’s
surprise and delight, she let Conner stroke the side of her face. Another couple
dozen pictures were saved to her camera’s memory card.

Murmuring to the mare the entire time, Conner lifted the rope,
letting her sniff it before uncoiling it one loop at a time.

“That’s right,” he crooned. “You know what this is, and you
want to go home. Had your fill of the hard life, I bet.”

Dallas got another shot of Conner and the mare, this one with
the arrow in her neck prominent.

He had just laid the rope over the mare’s neck, well beneath
the wound site, when the low rumble of an engine sounded in the distance. No,
two engines, Dallas thought, peering at the top of the hill and listening
intently.

Their rescue party was arriving, and none too soon.

Wrong. It was too soon, as a glance at Conner confirmed.

He hadn’t completely secured the rope, and when the mare tossed
her head, it slipped off. She backed away, lowering her head and baring her
teeth.

The colt, Dallas suddenly realized. The mare wanted to protect
her baby from danger.

Dallas jumped as the first ATV crested the hill and came to a
stop, the engine whining as it idled. When the driver—it was Gavin; she could
see that now—started toward them, the mare twisted sideways and galloped down
the hill, her colt in hot pursuit. Seconds later, they disappeared behind the
bend, the clatter of their hooves fading to silence.

“Conner!” Dallas called, but it was pointless. There was
nothing he could do, no way he could go after them on foot.

She wanted to cry. Without proper medical treatment, the mare
had little, if any, chance of recovery.

* * *

“W
E
HAVE
TO
GO
AFTER
THEM
!”

“We will,” Conner assured Dallas. He’d just finished telling
Gavin and Ethan about the injured mare and her colt. “Just not now. It’ll be
dark soon. And the ATVs will only scare her away. We’ll come back later. On
horseback.”

“When?”

“Soon.” Conner looked at Gavin, who confirmed the plan with a
nod.

“Tomorrow?”

“More likely the day after.”

Conner had an interview early Monday morning. Though he didn’t
have much hope of landing the job—the hiring manager had indicated there were
several excellent candidates being considered—he wanted to spend Sunday
afternoon preparing. Clean shirt. Suit pressed. Fresh copies of his résumé and
references. MapQuest directions to the location printed out.

“Can I come, too?” Dallas pleaded.

“Sorry. No riding, remember?”

Her hand went to her tummy.

“Speaking of getting dark...” Ethan had removed the toolbox
from where it was strapped onto the back of his ATV. “We’d better fix this wagon
wheel while there’s still some light.”

The three men worked well together. Being the one with the most
experience, Ethan supervised. It was like old times. The only one missing was
Clay. During their childhood, and later as teenagers, the four of them had been
inseparable and the bonds they formed unbreakable.

At least, Conner had thought they were unbreakable.

Eleven years ago, after Gavin and Ethan’s mother died due to
complications from a heart transplant, a feud had developed between Clay’s
father and Wayne Powell, Gavin and Ethan’s dad. Having to choose, and hating it,
Conner had sided with the Powells. It seemed to everyone at the time that Clay’s
father was in the wrong. Nonetheless, Conner kept in occasional contact with
Clay, unable to cut his friend out of his life entirely.

As with most disagreements, there was more to the story than
met the eye. Last fall, after Sierra Powell returned to Mustang Valley, the
truth had emerged. The two families were at last able to put their differences
aside and restore their friendship. Good thing, too. If not, the church would
have been pretty empty when Sierra married Clay. Instead, it overflowed with
friends and family and celebration.

Dallas had also attended the wedding, taking photographs for
the bride and groom, as she had at the Powell double wedding, when Ethan and
Gavin had married their spouses. Conner had assumed the next wedding she
attended would be her own.

He’d been wrong and had yet to decide if he was sorry. As much
as he didn’t like thinking about Dallas and Richard, their child deserved the
best from both parents.

Dallas hovered near the wagon, watching the men. They weren’t
progressing as fast as Conner would like. Dolly and Molly shared a similar
opinion. Undoubtedly hungry and thirsty, they’d been anxious the last half hour,
shifting from side to side and taking periodic nips at each other.

“Do you think the mare and colt are wild mustangs, too?” Dallas
asked Gavin. “Like Prince?”

“I doubt it,” Gavin said, his voice straining as he and Conner
lifted one end of the wagon so that Ethan could slowly spin the wheel and check
the flat iron tire. “They most likely escaped from some ranch.”

“Hunting is allowed in these mountains?”

“No,” he grunted, lowering the wagon when Ethan gave the okay.
“This is an urban preserve.”

“Then what would somebody be doing with a bow and arrows?”

“Breaking the law.” Conner started collecting the tools. “Or
she may have been shot near the river, where hunting is allowed.”

“That’s a long way to travel.” Dallas stared at the distant
landscape as if she could see the river.

“Take about a week. And her wounds are at least that old.”

“Just because hunting’s not allowed,” Ethan said, “doesn’t mean
someone wasn’t poaching.”

“Poaching!” Dallas retreated a step. “That’s illegal.”

“People break laws all the time.”

“Do they also mistake a horse for a deer?”

“Not usually.”

“Exactly. Whoever shot that horse was being intentionally
malicious.”

“She could have been trespassing on a rancher’s land, and he
shot her.”

Dallas gaped at Conner. “To kill her?”

“Chase her off.”

“That’s inhuman.” Her voice rose with outrage. “He could have
called...whoever it is you call, and had her removed.”

“We’re only guessing. Who knows what really happened to her? It
might have been an accident.”

“Yeah. Two arrows
accidentally
found their way into her neck and back.”

Conner noticed Dallas shivering. Unbuttoning his jacket, he
said, “Here. Take this.”