Cowboy for Keeps (9 page)

Dallas instantly sobered. “I didn’t know.”

“I just wouldn’t want to see you—or anyone—suffer.”

“Thanks.” She reached up and cupped his cheek, let her thumb
skim the line of his jaw. “You’re one of the good ones, Conner.”

He tensed, a fiery current zinging through him.

“Hey, Uncle Conner!” Isa jumped down from the fence, landing
feetfirst in the soft dirt with a thud. “Are you and Dallas, I mean Mizz
Sorz-son, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“We’re just friends.” He handed Isa the reins, then tugged on
the brim of her crooked ball cap. “No boy and girl in front of it.” To emphasize
the point, he stepped away from Dallas.

“Hmm.” Isa scrutinized them, her mouth pursed. “It sorta looks
like you are.”

“Enough from you, pip-squeak.”

More to shut her up than anything else, Conner grabbed her
around the middle and tickled her ribs. She giggled and tried to squirm away.
When she nearly succeeded, he lifted her up and plunked her into the saddle.

“Now, go find your dad,” he told her.

She bent down and gave his neck a hug. “I love you, Uncle
Conner.”

His chest tightened. She’d never said anything like that
before. “Right back at you, pip-squeak.”

He shot a quick, embarrassed glance at Dallas. She was staring
at him as if he had discovered the cure to end world hunger.

Women. They were an enigma. One impossible to solve.

“See ya later, Mizz Sorz-son.” Isa nudged Chico into a
walk.

“Call me Dallas,” she hollered after the girl.

“You two pals now?” Conner asked.

“Not like you two.”

“I was just being nice to her.”

“Right. It’s not as if you really love Isa.”

He didn’t answer.

Dallas grinned and grabbed her camera bag.

Conner had his hand on the gate, ready to close it, when a
rider approached. “You want to use the pen?”

“If you’re done,” the woman answered pleasantly. She sat
astride a sleek ebony horse that pranced eagerly in place.

“That’s one of the rehabilitated wild mustangs from the
sanctuary,” he informed Dallas.

She stopped and turned back. “Do you think she’d mind if I took
her picture?”

“Ask her while I park my truck.”

Dallas was bursting with excitement when they met up five
minutes later. “I got some great shots. That woman truly adores her horse. Did
you train him?”

“Me? No. He’s one of Ethan’s success stories. When that horse
was first brought in from the reservation after a roundup, he was considered
incorrigible.”

“Well, not anymore.”

“Ethan’s the best trainer in these parts.”

“You’re pretty good yourself.”

Conner shrugged off the compliment. “I’ve only been working
with the wild mustangs the last three months.”

“How’s the job search going? Did Hank line you up with any good
prospects?”

Dallas was being nice, expressing an interest. But dammit,
Conner wished she’d quit bringing up his lack of employment every time they were
together.

“He did put me in contact with one company. A paper product
manufacturer in Chandler.”

“And?”

“The vice president interviewed me.”

“And?”
she prompted when he
hesitated.

“It was a courtesy to Hank. They’d more or less filled the
position already. With a woman. Seems the company has a policy regarding the
ratio of male and female supervisors. To avoid any accusations of
discrimination.”

“That’s rough. Denied a job because you’re a guy.”

“I’ve been turned down for worse reasons.”

“Any other leads? It didn’t occur to me to ask, but Hank might
also know a reputable headhunter.”

Three leads this week and they’d all gone nowhere. Conner would
rather stick pins in his eyes than tell Dallas about them.

“Today’s kind of a celebration,” he said as they neared the
horse barn. “Prince is being bred to his hundredth mare since the Powells have
owned him.”

His tactic worked. She was sidetracked.

“I’d love pictures of that. Would Gavin mind?”

“Watching a pair of breeding horses isn’t for the faint of
heart.”

“I can handle it. I know all about the birds and the bees.” She
patted her stomach. “Obviously.”

“Horses kick and bite. You could get hurt.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“It may not matter. Prince will have one thing on his mind and
no regard for manners.”

“That’s why zoom lenses were invented.” She stopped abruptly
and drew in a breath. “He’s beautiful. I’ve seen him before, but not like
this.”

They were in sight of Prince’s quarters, a specially designed
stall at the end of the row. He stood at the railing, watching a small herd
graze in the nearby pasture, his head held high and tail arched.

Several times a week Gavin put Prince in the pasture with one
or two nonaggressive geldings. Like most studs, Prince could be difficult to
handle, especially when there were mares in heat. Running and socializing with
other horses helped to calm him.

Contact with people did, as well. He liked Gavin best and was
reasonably fond of Ethan, who’d broken Prince to ride last winter. Conner he
tolerated.

As they neared the stall, Prince went from standing to prancing
back and forth, proudly showing off his form. He stopped just as suddenly and
whinnied shrilly, his attention on the mare motel next door.

“I swear, that horse has a sixth sense. He always knows when
it’s breeding day.”

Dallas reached into her bag and removed her camera. Dipping and
moving from side to side, she snapped away. “How close can I get?”

“You’re close enough.” Conner held her in place by clutching
her sweater sleeve.

“The bars of the stall are in the way.” She lowered the camera.
“Any chance you can put Prince in the pasture? I’d love some pictures of him at
a full gallop. That mane and tail of his are amazing.”

“Maybe. After the breeding. If he’s settled down enough.”

“Can I pet him? Will he mind?”

Conner marveled at how her mind jumped from one subject to the
next at the speed of light. “Let me go first. He’s made a lot of progress, but
he’s not completely trustworthy with strangers.”

Nearing the stall, Conner held his hand out in front of him.
“Easy does it. That’s right.”

Prince rushed over to the railing, blowing lustily.

Conner stroked his face, his movements slow and steady. “Good
boy.”

The horse dropped his head, indicating he wanted a scratching
between the ears.

“He doesn’t look so tough.” Dallas inched closer, not waiting
for Conner’s okay.

“He’s like any guy. There’s always one thing that turns him
from a lion into a kitten.”

“Is that so?”

“See for yourself.”

Prince had begun to relax, his ear lying back rather than
standing straight up. Another minute and he’d be rolling on the ground, hooves
in the air, begging for a tummy rub.

Dallas placed a tentative hand on the side of Prince’s sleek
black neck. “What’s the one thing that turns you into a kitten?”

She had to ask? The answer was standing right beside him, her
elbow brushing his.

“A neck rub,” he answered, choosing a safer answer.

“Seems you and Prince are a lot alike.”

“Apparently.”

Her eyes lit with mischief. “I’ll have to remember that. If I
ever want to wheedle a favor from you.”

He nearly groaned out loud, imagining her hands on him,
kneading his flesh.

“We should find Gavin. If you want those pictures of
Prince.”

They located him in the arena, instructing a class of beginner
riders. The youngsters zigzagged their mounts around a series of poles,
practicing their reining skills.

“Maybe we should come back later,” Dallas suggested.

“Give him a minute.”

“If you’ve got something to do, somewhere to be—”

“You’re my job for the next hour.”

“And then?” she asked.

“I’m due at the rodeo arena. Clay’s expecting a crowd
tonight.”

“Bull riding?”

“Tie-down roping and team roping.”

“You ever miss competing?”

“Not one bit.”

“It’s exciting.”

“I prefer getting my thrills other ways than being launched
from the back of a bucking bull.”

“Like?”

There she went again, asking questions, when the answer was
standing within touching distance.

And here he was again, supplying a safe answer. “Training wild
mustangs.”

Gavin sauntered over to the arena fence, and none too soon.

Dallas made her requests. His answer to both was yes. He also
cautioned her regarding the dangers of standing too close to Prince.

“If you want to bring the mare from her stall to the breeding
shed,” he told Conner, “I’ll meet you there with Prince. She’s the little
chestnut beauty in number eight.”

Conner didn’t normally assist with the breeding. Today was
evidently an exception for Dallas’s benefit.

“Can I come with you?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t you rather go with Gavin, since he’s bringing
Prince?”

“I have a question for you.”

Not another one!

They started walking, and Conner mentally braced himself.

“There’s a charity dinner and dance I have to attend. Two weeks
from today. At the Phoenician Resort. It’s sponsored by the Arizona Animal
Welfare Association. They provide funding to several of the no-kill animal
shelters where I volunteer. The event raises a lot of money.”

“You the official photographer?”

They entered the mare motel with its enclosed stalls, most of
them occupied.

“Actually, I’m attending. As a guest. I’ve done two small
shoots for the AAWA and would like to do more. This is an opportunity for me to
finagle some face time with the directors.”

“What’s your question?” He assumed she wanted him to give these
directors a tour of the mustang sanctuary.

“Do you by chance own a suit?”

“A suit?” He’d have to wear one for the tour? “Several.”

“Good. Because I’m supposed to bring an escort to the
dinner.”

“You’re inviting me on a date?” Conner missed a step and
quickly regained his balance.

“Not a date. I’m asking a
friend
to
accompany me to a dinner. A business dinner. Consider it a favor.” She turned
wide, hopeful eyes on him. “I’ll repay you with a neck rub.”

A neck rub! He could barely keep his hands off her as it was.
Look what had happened in the round pen earlier. Seeing her in a slinky cocktail
dress would be torture.

The refusal he intended to give lodged in his throat and stayed
there. When he was finally able to speak, he asked, “What time should I pick you
up?”

Chapter Nine

Dallas contemplated the five dresses laid out on her
mother’s bed.

“What do you think?” Marina asked, fingering the closest one, a
bright hibiscus print with a ruffled hem. “I’ve always been partial to pink on
you.”

“It is pretty.”

And not at all Dallas’s style. In her mind, huge pink flowers
and ruffles didn’t shout prestigious charity event. The voluminous, floor-length
skirt and spaghetti straps also made her think sundress. She was attempting to
disguise her growing tummy, not dress for a stroll in the park.

“But maybe a little too casual.”

“Really? I wore it to Hank’s company’s holiday party last
year.”

Her mother would, and pay no heed to the stares.

Dallas wanted to attract the attention of the AAWA directors in
a good way, not have them gawk at her. If all went as she hoped, they would
authorize her for more shoots. She lived by what she’d preached to Conner: it
wasn’t what you knew but who you knew.

“This one’s nice.” She lifted a pale gold cocktail dress with a
considerably more demure neckline.

“It seems a little underwhelming.” Marina frowned slightly.

And precisely what Dallas was looking for. “But with the right
jewelry and shoes, I can fancy it up.”

She’d come to her mother’s house in the hopes of finding a
suitable dress from Marina’s easy-breezy wardrobe. At nearly three months
pregnant, Dallas had entered the stage where her own clothes were too snug, but
she wasn’t quite ready for maternity outfits. Neither was she about to purchase
a dress she’d likely wear once or twice.

“I’m going to try it on.” She slipped into the adjoining master
bathroom and changed.

“I take it back,” Marina exclaimed when Dallas emerged a few
minutes later. “The dress is you.”

Dallas preened in front of the mirrored closet door, agreeing
with her mother. The tight, high-waisted bodice and loose skirt camouflaged her
tummy while still giving her an hourglass silhouette.

“I have just the necklace.” Marina went to her dresser.

Dallas waited for her to return with some gaudy, oversize
bangles. Instead, she was handed a dainty emerald pendant and delicate gold
chain.

“Where did you get this?” She turned the pendant over in her
palm, admiring the glittering stones.

“Your father.”

“I’ve never seen you wear it.” Or had any idea that Marina
owned such a treasure.

“I didn’t want to upset Hank by flaunting jewelry my ex-husband
bought me.”

“It’s exquisite.” Dallas fastened the chain around her
neck.

“Oh, my,” Marina exclaimed softly, staring at Dallas’s
reflection.

“Mom, I don’t care if Hank gets mad.” Dallas touched the
pendant, hanging just below her collarbone. “You should wear this.”

“You wear it. And keep it. I always meant to give you the
necklace one day. It’s much more your style than mine.”

“Thank you.” Dallas hugged her mother tightly. She had nothing
of her father’s, hadn’t seen or talked to him in years. The necklace would stir
the few fond memories she had of him.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

She turned back to the mirror and touched the pendant again.
“Dad had his faults. Bad taste in jewelry wasn’t one of them.”

“He tried. One of his mistakes was thinking tokens of affection
could take the place of real affection. That’s what I love about Hank.”

“He’s affectionate?”

“Very.”

Apparently only when they were alone, because Dallas couldn’t
ever remember seeing Hank sweep her mother into a passionate embrace or hold her
hand while they walked.

Conner had done both with Dallas, and much more.

“Why did you marry Dad?” She wasn’t sure she’d asked the
question before.

“We were a lot alike. Both artists. I sculpted, he played
guitar. We were convinced we could impact the world with our art. Sometimes I
think we were too alike. Hank’s solid. Dependable. He keeps me on course. That’s
why I thought you and Richard were such a good match.”

He and Hank were definitely cut from similar cloth.

What about Conner? He seemed to Dallas a combination of both
types. Solid and dependable, but with an adventurous side. Like the wild
mustangs he trained.

As if reading her mind, her mother said, “Conner’s one lucky
man.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’ll be with the prettiest girl at the dinner.”

“It’s not like... We’re just friends, Mom.”

“Tell me you don’t find him attractive.”

“I’m having a baby. He isn’t going to date a pregnant
woman.”

“Isn’t that his decision to make?”

“And mine.”

“Then why did you invite him to the event, if not to start
something?”

Dallas fiddled with the necklace clasp, finally securing it.
“Because I need an escort. And he owns a suit.”

“You like him. You always have. And he likes you.”

“As friends,” she repeated.

“That’s a good basis for a relationship. A couple should be
friends before they’re lovers.”

“Being lovers with Conner is the furthest thing from my
mind!”

Such a bald-faced lie. What would her mother say if she found
out about the kiss?
Kisses!

She’d accuse Dallas of having feelings for Conner, and she’d be
right.

Feelings that could and would go nowhere.

“Don’t sell Conner short,” Marina said. “He’s made of stronger
stuff than most men. Personally, I don’t think your pregnancy will deter
him.”

“It
will
deter him. Every time he
looks at me, he’ll be reminded of Richard.” Of her and Richard together.

“Hank courted me when I had two small children. He didn’t think
about your father when he looked at me.” Marina’s lips curled into a playful
smile. “I made sure of it. You can do the same with Conner.”

Why hadn’t she been born to a more inhibited mother?

“I could, if we were interested in each other. Which we’re
not.” If she said it enough, maybe she’d start to believe it.

“Well—” Marina unzipped the dress “—I can guarantee, if Conner
hasn’t been thinking about being your lover before, he will certainly start once
he sees you in this.”

“Mom!”

“Just stating a fact.”

Dallas took another look at herself in the mirror, recalled
Conner’s mouth taking possession of hers. Felt his hands mold themselves to her
hips.

Yes, Conner would see her in this dress and want her.

As usual, her mother was right.

* * *

B
Y
C
ONNER
’
S
ESTIMATION
, about two hours of
daylight remained. If he and Javier didn’t find the mare and colt by dark,
they’d have to return to the ranch empty-handed. This was Conner’s second
venture into the mountains in the last two days. He had Dallas to thank for
that.

Her photos of the injured mare appeared everywhere online,
generating hundreds of thousands of hits. The story had spread across the
Southwest and as far east as Oklahoma. As a result, the ranch phone had been
ringing off the hook with reported sightings. Only a few were legit.

The most promising one had come from the pilot of a low-flying
plane on his descent into the Scottsdale Airport. He’d supposedly spotted the
mare and colt not far from Tom Thumb, a favorite picnic and rest spot for trail
riders.

Yesterday, Conner and Javier, a longtime wrangler at Powell
Ranch, had taken two Judas horses to the area the pilot reported. Both animals
had carried pack saddles loaded with materials for a makeshift corral.

If the lure worked, as it had with Prince, the mare and colt
would be waiting at the corral today, munching on hay and easy to capture. The
men had brought their lariats, however, just in case.

Tom Thumb, with its distinctive rock formation, came into view.
The picnic area was familiar to Conner. Last year he’d brought Leeza and her
daughter here, giving them a taste of cowboy life. The little girl had loved
riding and being outdoors. Her mother not so much.

“Señor Conner.” Javier, who’d ridden in the lead the entire
trip, pointed at a huge cholla cacti patch up ahead. “
Ten
cuidado.
Be careful,” he called in broken English.

“Gracias, mi amigo.”

There was only one drawback to bringing the wrangler: his
English skills weren’t the best. Which left Conner with his own thoughts for
company during the ride. As was typical, his mind drifted to job hunting.

Seven more résumés sent out this week. Seven polite, form email
replies stating that his résumé had been received and would be reviewed. He
wasn’t holding his breath. Of the seven positions, he was overqualified for four
and the remaining three weren’t in his field. That was how wide he’d started
casting his net.

He’d made a decision while saddling up this afternoon. After
the charity dinner next Saturday, he’d be seeing Dallas only for the book shoots
or at Gavin’s request.

No more kisses. No more finding any excuse to hold her in his
arms, or call just to hear her voice on the other end of the line. No more—

“Señor Conner!” Javier exclaimed, reining his horse to a stop.
“Los caballos.”

Excitement surged inside Conner. There, about a hundred yards
ahead, were the mare and colt. They stood outside the makeshift corral, munching
on hay left out the day before.

“Go slow. We don’t want to scare them off.” He repeated his
instructions in Spanish.

Precautions were unnecessary. The starving mare and colt paid
little attention to anything except the hay.

The ranch horses whinnied happily at the sight of new arrivals.
Despite ample food and water, they probably hadn’t liked spending the night in
the mountains.

“You wait here,” Conner said to the wrangler. “I’ll get the
mare.”

On the chance that she and the colt became scared and tried to
bolt, Javier would be able to block their escape.

The mare, perhaps tired, perhaps sick from infection, did
nothing when Conner dismounted and approached her. The colt, though clearly
agitated, remained by her side.

Conner was able to place a rope around the mare, carefully
avoiding the arrows, which were still imbedded in her neck and back. Not that
he’d expected differently. He motioned Javier over, gesturing that he wanted the
spare halter they’d brought along.

“Easy as pie,” Conner said, slipping it on the mare’s head.

He took a moment to examine her. She was in about the same
condition as before. Looks, however, could be deceiving. Infections like hers
tended to spread deeper rather than outward, and not appear so bad on the
surface.

The colt wouldn’t let anyone near him, dodging Conner when he
tried to pet him. They would have to trust he was fit enough to make the trip to
the ranch.

“Let’s get to work.”

Javier nodded, and together they tethered the six adult horses
to the branches of nearby trees. Confused and frightened by the strange
activities, the colt trotted in circles, always within close range of his
mother.

The corral, which was nothing more than orange netting strung
between posts, was quickly disassembled. Conner placed the pack saddles they’d
left there yesterday on the two ranch horses, and loaded the netting and
posts.

Within half an hour, they were ready to start for home. More
than once Conner attempted to call the ranch, but his phone had no reception.
He’d wait until they reached the first tall rise and try again. Dallas would be
thrilled when she heard the news.

“I’ll lead the mare. You take the other two, okay?” he
suggested to Javier.

“
Sí,
I follow you.”

A good plan. With the mare and colt sandwiched between them,
she was less likely to spook and run off. They didn’t want to lose her, not
after coming this far. The arrangement also helped calm the jittery colt.

A full fifteen minutes passed without incident. Conner was
beginning to think they were in the clear. Then they neared the cholla
cacti.

How it happened, he wasn’t exactly sure, but all at once the
colt darted deep into the patch. Surrounded on all sides by dangerous prickles,
he instinctively froze.

“Whoa!” Conner dismounted and silently studied their
predicament. No easy solution came to him.

The problem was the horses. Unlike at Tom Thumb, there were no
trees in the area. Hardly any bushes. Plenty of cacti. How to secure the animals
while he went after the colt? Expecting Javier to maintain control of five
horses, one of them an anxious mother, was asking a lot. But unless the colt
decided to come out on his own, they didn’t have much choice.

Javier took the initiative by grabbing the mare’s lead rope.
“Ándale.”

“You sure about this?” Conner asked, regarding the man’s small
stature.

“Get the baby.”

This had better work.

The little fellow trembled as Conner neared, his eyes widening
until the whites shone all around.

“Easy does it. Good boy.”

The colt made anxious noises, which upset his mother.

Conner moved slowly. With each step he took, he checked the
ground, being careful where he placed his boots. Fallen cholla clusters were
everywhere and would attach to him like iron shavings to a magnet.

The closer he got, the more agitated the colt became. No way
would he submit to being led out. Conner paused and reconsidered his options. If
he circled the animal and came up behind him, the colt might take off running,
hopefully in the direction of his mother. He might wind up with a few stickers
in his hide, but none the worse for wear.

The colt’s eyes were glued on Conner as he executed a wide
circle. The animal didn’t turn around, but his bobbing head indicated how
nervous he was.

Conner was just about in place when a sharp, searing pain
exploded in his right elbow.