KIDNAPPED COWBOY (26 page)

“Almosts don’t count in this thing,” Jimmy remarked with a frown.  He and Clayton hadn’t had any better luck at catching Squealer, although they’d come close.

“It’s not whether you win or lose,” Dalton told the teens as he slipped into the corral where the last two contestants were just getting to their feet. 

“It’s how you play the game!” a few of the teens hollered from the sidelines. 

They were learning, Caitlin thought with an overwhelming sense of pride.

“Nope,” Dalton replied, shaking his head.

“What?” she said in confusion.

He grinned.  “It’s how good you look doing it.”

The teens laughed.

“A man...” Dalton said, glancing toward the girls.  “No, make that anyone can lose, but it’s how you look while doing so that makes the difference.  Keep your chin held high.  Keep those shoulders squared.  Let people see that even though you lost you’re not a loser.”

He never ceased to amaze her.  She had spent all those years getting her degree in psychology, yet Dalton came up with the best explanations for life’s situations, motivating them with his words.  Her heart swelled with love for him.

Love? 
There it was again. 
Come back to reality, Caitlin.
Stop wishing for what you can’t ever have.

“Well, this was fun,” she said with a clap of her hands, pushing her thoughts of Dalton aside.  “Time to get washed up.”

“Not so fast,” Dalton called out, motioning for her to join him inside the corral.

He wasn’t really going to make her do this.  Was he?

The teens began cheering her on.

Dalton crooked a long finger.  “Let’s go partner.”

“Come on, Miss Myers.  We had a deal,” Jimmy reminded her.

“We did,” she agreed, “But there’s really no sense in us even trying.  You’ve all seen how fast Squealer there can run.  He’s Olympic material.  I say we just call it a day.”

She started to turn away, but her attempt to escape was quickly thwarted by the finger hooking through the belt loop of her jeans.

“Oh, no you don’t.”

She let out a squeal that rivaled the ones the pig had let out.  “Dalton!”  How had he gotten to her so quickly?  It didn’t matter.  She was not going to chase a pig.  “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.”  He took her by the hand and helped her between the rails and into the corral. 

The cheering around them grew louder.  How could she let them down?  She couldn’t and that was that.  She had to suck it up and keep her promise.

“All right, kids,” Dalton hollered, “get ready to see a couple of pros in action.” 

“You’re gonna get it for this,” she warned through clenched teeth as they advanced on the pig who stood watching them from the other side of the muddy corral.

“And I look forward to getting
it
from you, but you’re gonna have to control your urges until we’re done here.  Right now I have a pig to catch.”

She gave him a swift elbow to the ribs, just hard enough to get her message across.  Then a whistle blew and the chase began.

“Let’s go, partner!” He released her hand and took off, gaining quickly on Squealer, but the ground was slick and he lost his footing, sliding on his backside across the wet ground.

Caitlin slowed.  That fall looked painful.  Let Dalton catch the smelly thing.  She was perfectly content to observe his pig catching prowess from a distance.

“Caitlin!” he hollered back over his shoulder.

“I’m coming,” she called out. 
As slowly as I can.

But Squealer had other ideas about her involvement in the competition.  He spun around and dodged Dalton’s attempted grasp, heading right at her, mud shooting up into the air behind its scrambling hooves. 

She tried to stop dead in her tracks, but the muddied ground had her skidding toward the charging pig.  She threw up her hands.  “Back, piggy!  Stop!”

The pig darted around her, but her sense of relief was only temporary.  She looked up to discover Dalton, who had scrambled back to his feet was racing her way in pursuit of the pig. 

His blue eyes widened the second he realized they were headed on a collision course right at each other.  “Watch—”  The warning never made it out of his mouth as she took him down in one fell swoop, landing sprawled awkwardly atop him.

Muddy water sprayed up into the air around them, splattering them both.  Caitlin looked down at Dalton with a grin, peering at him through several pieces of damp hair that now hung over her eyes.  “Looks like I got myself a big one.”

“I’ll give you a big one,” he muttered so that only she could hear.  There was no missing the spark of desire flickering in those incredible blue eyes.

A snort beside them had both their heads turning.  Squealer had circled around and was now standing there watching them with those beady little pig eyes.

The teens were going crazy.

“You’re a brave little thing,” Caitlin said laughingly as she pushed the hair from her face.  “And look at that cocky little expression.  Are you related to Dalton here?”

Dalton gave a husky chuckle.  “No.  Cause if he was, he’d of let you catch him.”

“Get him!” the kids called out.  “Grab him, Miss Myers!”

Squealer was close enough for her to nab if she made a quick lunge.  She turned back to Dalton with half a frown and whispered, “I can’t do it.  You get him.”

“I’d be more than happy to, but I’m not exactly in a position to help out here.”

No, not with her sitting atop him.  She bit at her lower lip in indecision as the cheers grew louder.  Squealer grew more confident, circling them.

“I need your help, Dalton.  I can’t do this myself,” she whispered, not wanting to frighten the pig away.  The kids were counting on her.

“Don’t worry, darlin’.  We’re in this together,” he whispered back with a wink.

“Okay, here goes.”  With that, she dove for the greased pig, throwing her arms around it.  It let out a startled squeal and began squirming wildly to get free.

“Hold on,” Dalton called out as he scrambled to his knees and crawled toward her.

The teens were going nuts. This was the closest anyone had come to catching the wily little mascot.  Caitlin found herself wondering how she’d ended up in this situation.  She was a psychologist, not a pig wrestler.  Fact proven as Squealer shot out from her encompassing arms. 

“I got him,” Dalton called out as he lunged across her after the escaping pig.

The roar of the young spectators turned into all out laughter as Squealer took off, shooting flecks of mud onto his fallen pursuers. 

Caitlin pushed at Dalton who was lying crossways over her now, doing his best to keep himself from crushing her.  “Some cowboy you are.  You let it get away.”

“Me?” He glanced back at her over his shoulder.  “If you—” 

“So, this is how you run things around here?” 

This was the first Caitlin realized the teens were no longer creating their usual ruckus.  The unexpected sound of Brandon Barne’s voice had her shooting upright, or as far upright as she could get with Dalton still draped across her lap. 

“Brandon.”

The ‘Ogre of Lone Tree’ slipped between the fence rungs and strode toward them, his expression clearly befitting the man who had been given that nickname.

Whispers of “It’s him” and “It’s the Ogre” drifted through the crowd, followed by a few soft, feminine gasps.

Brandon ignored the teens’ comments, focusing on Dalton and her instead.  “Miss Myers,” he replied stiffly, not even the slightest hint of humor in his tone.   

“Your timing stinks,” Dalton told his brother as he rolled off Caitlin and onto his wet backside. 

His brother arched a brow as his gaze followed the fleeing pig.  “Obviously.”

Dalton stood and extended a muddied hand to Caitlin, helping her to her feet.  “We nearly had it.”

“I assume the ‘it’ you are referring to is that pig over there.”  He thumbed in the animal’s direction.

Dalton nodded.

His brother’s scowl deepened.  “The question is why?”

Caitlin stepped up alongside Dalton, brushing bits of grass and clumps of mud from her clothes.  “I can explain.”

“Please do,” his brother said.

“We were having a competition.”

Brandon’s dark brow shifted upward.  “A competition?”

“Yes.  Dalton came up with the idea, but I have to say it’s been a wonderfully therapeutic way to get these kids to refocus.  It’s actually helped guide the teens in a more positive direction.”

“You consider chasing a greased pig around positive direction?”

“Damn straight,” Dalton cut in.

“Dalton,” Caitlin said in an attempt to hush him.

He calmed himself down, no doubt aware that the teens were hanging on to their every word.  He met his brother’s narrowed gaze head on.  “I think we should take this to Caitlin’s office.” 

Brandon shook his head, but he refrained from saying anything more until they reached the retreat’s office and closed the door behind them. 

“Look,” Dalton began, determined to explain the concept of having fun to a brother who had never learned how to do so.

“I thought when you left the circuit that you left this sort of behavior behind,” his brother said, cutting off his explanation. 

“There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun,” he told Brandon.

“What the hell do you think would have happened if the health department pulled a surprise inspection of the camp today?”

“They were rolling in mud, not sewage,” Caitlin interjected on Dalton’s behalf.  “It washes off.”

“What if one of the teens fell and broke an arm or worse?” Brandon demanded.  “I gave up a very lucrative financial deal, Miss Myers, to let this camp reopen this summer.  And for what?  To have kids in need of counseling and structure come here and run around unbridled, playing senseless games like I just witnessed out there.” 

Caitlin felt a rush of tears at the harshness of his criticism.  Brandon was right.  She had a responsibility to the retreat, and part of that responsibility was not to put its reputation or future at risk.  Something she had done in not looking into the possible ramifications of holding such a competition.   

“Back off,” Dalton warned, the tension thick in the air.

“Dalton, please,” she said, not wanting things to get any worse than they already were.

Dalton was past the point of reining himself in.  Just when he’d thought his relationship with his brother was headed in the right direction, Brandon had to go and revert back to his old rigid way of looking at things.

“You can go at me all you want,” he told Brandon.  “But you’d better back off where Caitlin’s concerned.  She’s a damn good director.  Not that you would know, seeing as how you rarely make an appearance here.”

Brandon stiffened at the well-aimed accusation.

“And you’ll never find anyone as dedicated to their job as she is,” Dalton continued.  “So if you have a problem with anyone, it’s me.  I brought the pig here.  And final say so on what’s done here is up to me.  Or have you forgotten that?”

“Dalton,” she pleaded.

He held up a hand.  “I can handle this.”  He sounded calm.  Too calm.  “Why don’t you go check on the kids?” 

“But—”

“No buts, Caitlin.”  He gave her a reassuring smile.  “Don’t worry.  My brother and I haven’t killed each other yet.” 

And that was supposed to make her feel better?  Her gaze darted nervously between the two men.  The expression on Brandon’s face had her hesitating, feeling the need to remain by Dalton’s side.  But Dalton was right.  This wasn’t just about the retreat.  It went deeper than that.  It was something the two of them had to work out for themselves once and for all. 

“
Yet
being the key word,” Brandon reiterated in a low grumble.

Her eyes widened.  She definitely wasn’t leaving the two of them alone now.  Stepping in front of Dalton, she hoisted her chin.  “If you even think about laying one hand on—”

“Caitlin,” Dalton said, clasping his hands over her shoulders, “he’s kidding.  He’s not real good at it, but you have to give him credit for trying.” 

There wasn’t even a hint of humor in Brandon’s eyes that she could see, but she had to trust that Dalton knew what he was talking about.  “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

He smiled.  “I think I can handle it.”

She started for the door, and then stopped, looking from one brother to the other.  “Just remember, you’ll always be brothers.”  That said she walked out, closing the door behind her.             

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The moment Caitlin walked out, Brandon swung around to face his brother.  “I know you have a thing for her, so I’m not gonna count on you for objectivity.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m serious, Dalton.  A place like this needs someone a little more experienced to run it.”

“You aren’t gonna find anyone with more experience,” he argued.  “Caitlin has been where they are.”

“Maybe so, but those kids need more structure in their life, not fun and games.”

Dalton felt that familiar tick return to his jaw as he stood listening to his brother’s perception on how Stoney Brook should be run.

“I’ve seen how Caitlin interacts with the kids here and how far they’ve come since arriving here.  She’s done a damn fine job with them.  Again, I repeat, not that you’ve been around to see any of it,” he added with a scowl.

“I’ve been busy.” 

“Sitting behind that big old desk of yours and debating on which stocks to trade off, what investments to buy into.”

“It’s business.”

“It’s always business.  When’s the last time you really enjoyed life?”

His brother said nothing.

“That’s what I thought.”  Dalton shook his head.  “You know, Brandon, I feel sorry for you.”

“For me?  Why the hell would you feel sorry for me?”

“Because you’ve put all that time and effort into building up the family business.  And at what sacrifice?  You have no social life that I’m aware of.”

“I like my life the way it is.”

“Do you really?  Or is that part of the front you put up?”  He shook his head.  “Don’t you want a family?”