Cowboy Seeks Bride (11 page)

After riding all day in the rain the weathered gray barn was a beautiful sight. Haley pulled up on her reins and stared at it as if it would disappear if she blinked. Eeyore left her side and marched into the corral with the last of the herd, and Finn fastened the gate shut with a piece of baling wire. Coosie pulled the wagon right into the barn through the big double doors, and Buddy rode in behind him to help unhitch the two horses and put them into a couple of the stalls inside the barn.

Dewar raised his voice above the rumbling thunder. “Hey, you got enough sense to come in out of the rain, don’t you?”

She shot him the meanest look that she could conjure up. “I thought it was a mirage.”

“It’s real, so come on inside so we can shut the door, feed the cattle, and dry out.”

She nodded and urged Apache on forward.
Dry
out!
Two of the sweetest words she’d ever heard. The slicker had helped keep her dry, but it didn’t cover from the knees down. The rain had even blown into her boots and her socks were wet. Since the wind had shifted, it was a cold, miserable feeling. She didn’t care if she had a bite of supper; she just wanted to curl up inside her sleeping bag and get warm.

The other cowboys had already unsaddled, slung wet blankets over the stalls along the west side of the barn, and had claimed stalls for their horses. Ten stalls, eight horses, hay to feed the cattle, and even some food for the horses. It looked entirely too perfect to have just happened on a fluke.

“So you arranged this?” she asked Dewar as they slung saddles off their horses at the same time.

“Not exactly. In the real Chisholm Trail run there were families who lived on the trail and sometimes the cook bought food from them. When I talked to the fellow that owns the property we’re crossing he told me about this old barn, said there was hay leftover from last year, and he’d put some oats in here for the horses just in case we wanted a place to hole up for a day or two,” Dewar explained.

Her heart jumped around like a hyperactive child who’d just gotten out of the classroom and turned loose on the playground. “So we’re staying more than just tonight?”

Dewar shook his head. “We’ve been traveling slow enough and there’s been enough pasture grass that the cows aren’t losing weight, so we’ll go on tomorrow morning.”

Her heart fell into her boots. She slid the wet blanket off Apache’s back and slung it over a stall, led him into it, and brushed him down before shutting the door. Now it was her turn and she was almost too tired to even take off her wet clothing.

Dewar leaned against the stall where his big black horse, Stallone, was happily eating from a feed trough. “Loft is yours. We’ll spread out over the bottom here and Coosie already claimed one of those last stalls as his.”

She picked up her saddlebags. “Good night.”

“Supper in an hour. Coosie has dug out a fire pit over there.” He nodded toward the far end of the barn, “and opened that door enough for the smoke to escape that way. He’s got a pot of stew going and says he’s frying doughnuts tonight because after today we need something to pep us up.”

She looked at the ladder leading up to the loft, slung her saddlebags over her shoulder, and grabbed the first rung.

“I’ll bring up your bedroll,” Dewar said.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

The area wasn’t half as big as her bedroom in Dallas. Loose hay was scattered on the rough wooden floor, half a dozen hay bales were stacked against the south wall, and a lantern hung on the north wall.

“Does that work?” she asked.

“If it’s got kerosene in it, it probably does, but you’d have to be careful. As dry as this hay and wood is, if you knocked it over the place could burn to the ground in a hurry,” Dewar said.

He untied her bedroll and unfurled the whole thing with the expertise of a true cowboy. “There you go. I’ll yell when Coosie has the food ready.”

“Thanks again.” She opened one of her saddlebags and removed a notebook and pen, sat down on a bale of hay, and started writing ideas.

If
it
rains, keep going. Bring whatever equipment you’ll need because it’s a real test to stay on the horse without even stopping for lunch.
She scratched out the word
lunch
and wrote
dinner
.
They
wouldn’t call it lunch and dinner; it’s dinner and supper on the trail. Check with the owner of the barn north of El Reno to see if the television show could use it to sleep in one night. Would make a wonderful filming area with the horse stalls and the hayloft. Throw in a barn rat to test the bravery of the ladies. And if it’s raining or lightning it’ll make for more drama.

She looked up at the rafters above her and scanned the whole loft for rats. She’d only thought that a downtown Dallas office was drama prone. Riding the trail with six men brought about the real, honest-to-God stuff, not just the watercooler kind of shit where someone was whining because they didn’t get flowers or a call after that one-night stand.

Put them out here in a
Survivor
world with a hundred head of cattle, a rangy old bull who thought he was the boss, and a donkey that was fast becoming her personal sidekick. Take away their laptops, mirrors, makeup, Prada shoes, power suits, and their cell phones and after a month, ask them how much that watercooler gossip was worth.

Haley carefully put her notes back into the saddlebag and removed a whole new set of clothing. She tugged her wet boots off and set them to one side, hopefully to dry before morning, hung her wet socks over a hay bale, and peeled out of her jeans, shirt, and underwear, spreading them out flat so they’d dry. Then she removed her washcloth from the baggy and opened the window in the big doors and held it out to soak up enough rainwater to wash.

Goose bumps popped up on her body from the tips of her toes to her scalp, but she could endure the cold long enough to cleanse her body before she put on clean clothing. It took a while to wash, rinse, clean the washcloth, and re-dress, but the warm feeling afterwards was well worth the time. If it hadn’t been so damned cold and there hadn’t been six men in the barn, she would have taken a rain shower. She threw back the saddlebag flap and took out her notes.

If
it
rains, have the women on the trail take showers in the rain. It’ll make wonderful footage but remember to be discreet. This will be a family show.

“Still writing?” Dewar’s head popped up through the hole in the floor.

“Writing again. Supper ready?”

“It is. And you changed,” he said.

“Yes, I did, and I’m not putting those wet boots back on tonight,” she told him.

“We’ve got the chores done and we’re in our dry sock feet also. Coosie is dipping up stew, and the boys are askin’ for your portion if you don’t want to eat.”

Her stomach growled loud enough that he heard it. “Guess that means you aren’t giving away your supper?”

“It does. Back down off my ladder and I’ll come claim my food. You did say we were havin’ doughnuts?”

He grinned.

She wished for the thousandth time that he wasn’t a real cowboy. If only he was a Texan who liked boots and Stetsons, but went to work in an office every day, then she’d gladly go on and fall for him. But like he’d said, he’d never be content in the city.

The fire pit threw off heat that felt as good to her skin as the stew did to her insides. Six weeks before she would have bought a straitjacket for the person who said she’d be enjoying hot, thick beef stew ladled up over cold biscuits in a metal plate. But that night, as the rain continued to pour, the wind howled, and the cattle lowed in the corral on the other side of the thin wall, it was right next door to heaven.

She remembered an old Travis Tritt song, “It’s a Great Day to Be Alive.” He said that it was a goofy thing, but he had to say he was doing all right. He thought he’d make him some homemade soup, and even though there were hard times in the neighborhood, it was a great day to be alive.

Nothing could be goofier than sitting in an old horse barn eating plain stew and enjoying the experience. She glanced around as she ate and wondered if they appreciated a nice, warm barn as much as she did. Finn, the quiet O’Donnell with the haunted eyes, she had no doubt he’d have her back if she got into trouble. Heaven help a coyote or a bobcat that tried to harm her. Finn would shoot it without a second thought. Then there was Sawyer, the noisy boy of the lot. Always a smile and always had something to say, and that boy could sing like a Nashville star. Rhett was the rebel with his tattoo and blond ponytail. Buddy and Coosie were two overprotective uncles. That left Dewar sitting to her right. She slid a sidling glance toward him.

After only a week she already knew the six men better than she did the office staff she’d known for eight years. There was just something about the honest openness of the whole bunch that touched her heart and put a tear behind her eyelashes as she ate the stew and listened to them.

“That’s a hell of a bull you picked out,” Sawyer said.

“He showed leadership skills in the pasture, so I figured he’d do all right on the trail,” Dewar said.

“Too bad he’ll probably be ground up into hamburger,” Finn said.

The little tear dried up instantly. “What are you saying?” Haley asked.

“What do you think happens to the cattle that go to Dodge City to the feedlots?” Dewar asked.

“I never thought about it,” she answered.

“They fatten them up and sell them to slaughterhouses. The hamburger you buy in the grocery store was once a critter on four legs.”

“And you’ll let them take your lead bull with those gorgeous big horns and make steaks out of him? He’s breed quality, Dewar. You can’t let them kill him.”

“If he was breeding quality, I wouldn’t have made him walk over four hundred miles to a feedlot,” Dewar argued.

“And my donkey?” she asked. “Is he going to be hamburger?”

“No, probably cat food,” Sawyer teased.

She spun around to glare at him. “Eeyore is not for sale.”

“How do you suppose you’re going to get him back to your apartment in Dallas?” Dewar asked.

“How are you getting these horses back to Ringgold? Are we riding all the way back?” she asked.

“Hell, I hope not,” Rhett said.

Coosie held up a hand. “There will be a semitruck to take the chuck wagon home and a horse trailer to take the horses back. If you want to keep Eeyore, then he can ride home with the horses.”

“Thank you.” She had no idea what on earth she’d do with a donkey in a fifth-floor apartment complex in Dallas, but she’d cross that bridge later. Could she leave him in her parent’s backyard?

Hell, no! That’s an exclusive gated community that doesn’t even allow clotheslines or the garage doors left open in the daytime. There’s no way they’d let a donkey through the gates, even if he is better trained than some of the people who live there.

“Well, now that the fate of the donkey is taken care of and you two have stopped bickering, it is time to fry doughnuts,” Coosie said.

Haley polished off the last of her stew and then mopped up the juice with another biscuit. She watched Coosie flop a mound of bread dough out on the makeshift worktable and roll it out. Using a sharp knife, he cut the dough into rectangles and laid them on a big flat pan. He carried it to the fire, dropped the pieces into the boiling grease a few at a time, flipped them when they floated, and took them out as soon as both sides were brown. Then he took them back to the table where he spooned a brown sugar glaze on the tops and motioned for Buddy to come get that trayful while he worked on the next one.

Haley groaned when she bit into the first maple long john. “God, this is wonderful. Why aren’t you running a bakery?”

“Because you and Dewar would kill each other if I wasn’t here to keep you apart.” Coosie was already frying a second round. “Eat ’em up because they get tough when they’re old.”

“I’d eat bugs with this icing on them.” Haley reached for her third one. “How come you haven’t made these every night?”

“Same reason we don’t have singin’ and dancin’ every night,” Coosie said. “Put it down in your notes that after a week on the trail, the cookie should make doughnuts to keep up their morale.”

“Cookie?” she asked.

“That’s what the Chisholm Trail cook was called. Either that or Coosie, like me. I liked Coosie better than Cookie. It sounds tougher, don’t you think? And he was almost as important as the trail boss. He was the dentist, the doctor, and the cook. So when you choose that person for your reality show, make sure he can do the job.”

“I’ll tell the directors to make sure of that,” she said.

She and Dewar both reached for the last pastry on the tray at the same time. When their fingers touched, they jerked back and Buddy grabbed the long john.

“That’ll teach the whole bunch of you not to fight.” He laughed.

“You are mean!” Haley said.

“But I got the d-d-doughnut,” he stuttered.

She slapped him on the shoulder. “Yes, you did, but you’d better eat it in a hurry or I’ll bite your fingers tryin’ to get at it.”

Dewar got the first one of the second tray and it was so hot that he had to jiggle it between two hands while he ate. “I’d live like this forever if you’d make these once a week, Coosie.”

“I imagine after a month of this life, you’ll be ready for a soft bed and your old lifestyle and wouldn’t be no doughnuts in the world that would put you back in the saddle during a cold rainstorm,” Coosie told him. “How about you, Haley?”

“These are delicious, Coosie, but darlin’, I wouldn’t trade my soft bed and lifestyle for a hundred of them,” she answered.

It was already dark when she told the guys good night and climbed the ladder to the loft. Since the very first day, she’d been without privacy unless she awoke early and snuck off to the creek for a quick washup or back behind the trees to take care of personal matters. And now that she had it, she hated to leave the guys behind.

She picked hay from her socks and slipped into her sleeping bag, all dry and warm even though it was still pouring rain outside. A loud clap of thunder startled her and she sat straight up. A rat the size of a possum ran across the end of her sleeping bag, through a hole down into the floor, and she could not stop shivering no matter how hard she tried.

“Scared you, did it?” Dewar asked.

“Where did you come from?” she gasped.

“That hole in the floor that the ladder comes up through.” He pointed.

“I didn’t hear you.”

He chuckled and sat down on the edge of her tarp. “You was busy watchin’ that rat run from you. Not too fond of them, are you?”

She slowly shook her head. He’d kissed her, danced with her, whispered sweet songs in her ear, and then avoided her like she had eaten garlic, wallowed in cow crap, and had the plague all rolled into one. Now he was sitting beside her talking like they were old buddies.

“What is this, Dewar?”

He held out an ink pen. “You had this tucked behind your ear and dropped it when you left.”

She reached out and took it, not surprised in the least by the effect his touch had on her skin. Anger and indifference did not stop physical attraction any more than it could make it happen if it wasn’t there.

“Thank you. It’s my favorite, but that’s not what I’m talking about. You haven’t said two words to me in three days. We had a kiss that lit up the sky like the Fourth of July and those dances that were fantastic, and then you avoided me like I was a skunk. And now out of the clear blue sky you bring my pen up here and want to talk?”

He reached over and pushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. “I’m lonely. The guys all were snoring by the time they zipped up their sleeping bags.”

“So I’m going to be your pal when you are lonely and other than that I’m going to be treated like a leper?”

“Okay.” He inhaled deeply. “I’m attracted to you. I’ve always had a thing for redheads and you are sexy as hell. But we both know this won’t work, Haley. Like you said down there while we were eating, you wouldn’t trade your way of life for anything, not even a hundred of those doughnuts. Me, I’d go back in time to a more primitive era if I could. I love ranching, cows, horses—all of it. I’d never be happy in the city. So starting something would be downright crazy.”

She sat up and unzipped her sleeping bag. “I agree, Dewar. We aren’t relationship material.”

“Do I hear a
but
?”

She shook her head. “You don’t hear a
but
or an
and
or even a
however
.”

“Friends for the duration of the trip, then?”

She sat up and took two steps on her knees, stopping when she was close enough to feel the heat between them in the darkness. She would have liked to see the expression in his eyes when she reached out and unsnapped his shirt in one long popping motion. She did hear him gasp when she put both palms on his chest and tweaked his nipples with her thumbs.

“My turn. What is this, Haley?” he drawled.

She slung a leg over and sat in his lap. “This is what it is. What do you want it to be?”

***

He groaned and wrapped his arms around her. “I want it to be more than it can ever be.”

“I bet you say that to all the sexy redheads that grab your attention,” she whispered.

“I said I was attracted to redheads. Not that many have gotten my attention,” he told her.

He buried his face in her neck, drinking in the softness and the smell of perfumed soap. That much had him fully aroused and ready, but it had been a long time since he’d held a woman and he wanted the whole package, not just a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am bout of sex.

He traced her jawline with his fingertips and bent to kiss her. Her lips were moist, her tongue ready to do a sizzling mating dance with his. Her kisses tasted like brown sugar and hot black coffee, the combination as heady and sensual as her full lips on his.

Haley tangled her hands in his dark hair and kept his mouth on hers for more and more. He could almost hear her body purring as he slipped his hand under her shirt and slowly ran it up her backbone.

He pulled her so close that her breasts were smashed against his chest, but the material of her shirt kept her from feeling the soft hair, so he leaned back, pulled it over her head, and tossed it toward her boots. He fumbled with the hooks on her black lacy bra and finally had it dangling to her sides as he massaged her back from the waist up.

“God, that feels so good.” Her voice was throaty.

“Yes, it does,” he whispered softly.

Chill bumps popped up under his hands.

“Cold?”

“Hot as hell,” she said.

“Good, because I am too.”

She reached between them and unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and ran her hand inside to grasp his erection.

He gasped. “Your hands are cold and that feels so good.”

“So do your hands,” she whispered.

He slipped a hand up under the wires of her bra and cupped a breast, brushing the nipple with his thumb until it hardened in anticipation.

“You are so damn sexy,” he whispered.

“And you are so damn big.” She squeezed.

“Think so?”

“Oh, yeah!”

The bra came off and dangled on her wrist because she wouldn’t pull her hand out of his jeans.

“Dewar, this is getting uncomfortable. Take it all off and we’ll use the sleeping bag for a cover.”

She shifted to one side, put her bra on top of the saddlebags, and wiggled free of her jeans and panties. She was about to remove her socks when he reached down and took them off for her, kissed each toe separately, then strung kisses from her feet to her belly button.

“God almighty!” she said.

“He must be because He made you,” Dewar said when he left her midriff and kept traveling to her breasts.

She’d been kissed before. She’d had sex before, but nothing prepared her for the sheer fire that turned her into an absolute yearning hussy craving his hands to touch more and more.

***

Haley inhaled deeply and arched against him, wanting to get on with the show and yet not wanting the foreplay to end. She’d never known such searing heat and was afraid to let go of the feeling for fear it would never come around again. It was the most delicious thing she’d ever felt, and she looked forward to the ultimate climax. It could easily blow the top of her head right off if the foreplay was any indication of what the sex would be like.

He left her breasts and latched on to her lips, nibbling and teasing her soft mouth open and then starting another mating dance even more provocative than the last one. All the air escaped her lungs and they burned as hot as the rest of her body before she remembered to inhale again.

“Dewar, please,” she said.

“Are you sure? I can play all night,” he said.

“Darlin’, I do not doubt your ability, but I’m about to turn into nothing but ashes. Please.”

The first thrust took her from earth to the clouds. She floated higher with every rocking movement, arching tighter and tighter toward him, wrapping her legs around his midsection and purring deep in her throat with the pleasure of it all. He was multitalented, able to kiss, touch, and keep up a steady motion all at the same time. And each one drove her completely wild with desire.

“I’ve never felt like this,” she gasped.

“Me either,” he said.

His hands moved down her sides, touching places that she’d never even thought about being erogenous zones. Lord, after that night she’d be able to write erotic romance or at least an article for those women’s magazines about the ways a man can please a woman.

The next thing she knew he’d lifted one of her hands and was licking the inside of her wrist. The thought was silly but the feeling was purely sexual, his tongue tickling the soft skin. Dammit! If a bracelet did that to a woman’s wrist, there’d be a run on every jewelry store in the whole world.

She clasped her legs tighter. The thrusts became shorter and faster and she clamped on to his neck with her mouth to keep from screaming out. He slipped his hands under her bottom and with one final thrust, he collapsed on top of her with a throaty groan.

“My God!” he mumbled.

“Oh, yeah!” she whispered and straightened out her legs.

“That was… wow!” he said.

“I know,” she agreed.

He held her tightly in his arms as he rolled to one side, her skin bringing the plastic-coated tarp with her. He deftly peeled it back and tucked the edge of the sleeping bag around them, wrapping them in a cocoon of pretty sparkly colors dancing around the hayloft.

“Am I dreaming or did we just have mind-boggling sex?” she asked.

“You ain’t dreamin’, darlin’,” he assured her.

“Don’t leave me, Dewar. Stay with me,” she said.

“I will until I have to leave,” he promised.

She snuggled close to his chest, using his arm for a pillow. The pretty colors faded and the afterglow dimmed. She shut her eyes and slept.

***

Dewar slept for a while but, when the rain stopped, he awoke. The clouds shifted and the moon hung in the loft window as if it were dangling from a string. Stars popped out around it like diamonds on black velvet.

Haley slept soundly, her snores more like the purrs of a baby kitten than the full-fledged man-snores sneaking up the ladder from the men below. Dewar was not a virgin. He’d had women. He’d had a few real relationships. But nothing had ever prepared him for what had happened between him and Haley. It must be what sent his older brother into a tailspin of love-drunk blues when he’d met the woman who was to be his future wife.

Things had worked out for Rye because Austin had inherited a watermelon farm right across from his ranch in Terral, Oklahoma. Haley didn’t have a square foot of land anywhere near Ringgold, so she had no reason to stick around once the trip was finished. Besides, miracles weren’t a dime a dozen and all four of his siblings had already dipped deeply into the miracle trough.

“Miracles are all used up and nobody left one for me,” he whispered.

She muttered and turned over with her back to him. He carefully moved away from her and wrapped the sleeping bag more firmly around her body before he dressed. He crawled silently down the ladder and was sleeping in his own bed when Coosie started rattling pots and pans at daybreak.

“’Bout a noisy cook, aren’t you?” Dewar grumbled.

“Time to rise and shine. Look at that sun peeking over the horizon out there. We got miles to go and cattle to herd. Kick them cowboys out of those warm beds and let’s get started,” Coosie said.

Dewar would have rather had a big king-sized bed with Haley curled up with him all day. Just thinking about the positions they could get into in a big bed like that aroused him to the aching stage. He sat up and made himself think about shoveling horse shit from the stalls at the ranch to take away the pain.

“Good morning!” Haley said from the ladder.

She wore the same jeans she’d thrown in the corner last night, but Dewar knew now what was underneath that shirt and those jeans. He knew how she tasted, what she felt like, and how she responded to his touch, and even shoveling horse shit didn’t work.

“Good morning. Looks like the rain stopped,” he said.

Finn sat up and kicked back his blanket. “Rain wasn’t as uncomfortable as a sandstorm, but I’m not complainin’ about it bein’ over.”

“Me either.” Sawyer yawned. “What’s for breakfast, Coosie, or do you want us to call you Cookie from now on?”

Coosie shook an egg turner at him. “I told you last night, Coosie sounds tougher than Cookie and that’s what you will call me or you’ll be eatin’ a lot of burned food. We’re havin’ fried potatoes, ham, and scrambled eggs.”

“Biscuits?” Rhett asked.

“Every morning that I can make them, that way we got part of dinner fixed at the same time,” Coosie said.

“When we get back home, I’m callin’ you D-d-d-dexter,” Buddy said.

“At home I am Dexter. On the trail I’m Coosie.”

Haley wandered through the back door and out to the corral where Eeyore came trotting right over to the corral fence. He stuck his big, long nose out and she scratched his ears.

Dewar jerked on his boots and said, “I’ll check the cows.”

He walked up behind her in time to hear her say, “They’re not making fancy cat food out of you, sweetheart. I’ll find a place to put you even if I have to pay a boarding fee.”

“Guess you could board him at my horse ranch. I don’t reckon he’d eat a lot of grass and he could protect the new colts from coyotes,” Dewar said.

She almost spun around and kissed him hard right there in front of the cowboys and Eeyore and even that longhorn bull, but she checked herself just short of doing it. “What would this boarding fee cost me?”

“Not a thing. Like I said, he’ll pay for his keep by protecting my colts. I don’t have time to mollycoddle him, so you’d have to come up to the ranch and see him if you want him to have attention.”

“Oh?”

Dewar shrugged. “Or you can find a boarding place closer to your apartment in Dallas.”

She whispered, “I reached for you this morning and was disappointed when you weren’t there.”

“Yeah, well, I expect there’ll be fewer problems if the rest of the crew doesn’t know.”

“You are probably right, and thank you for offering to keep my donkey. I appreciate it and I’ll be glad to pay you,” she said.

He chuckled. “Just don’t go chargin’ me a fee for every coyote he kills.”

Would a stubborn gray jackass be enough to make her learn to love his way of life? Maybe there was a miracle left in the trough for him after all and its name was Eeyore!