Saddle Up (21 page)

Miranda was sitting on the front-porch swing when Keith pulled into the yard. She tossed her iPad down and descended the steps, her pulse skittering as she walked toward his truck. By the time he'd parked, her heart was racing like she'd run a marathon. What would she say? Would it be awkward now? She hoped not. She really wanted it to work out between them. She needed this to succeed for all of their sakes.

He climbed out of the cab, greeting her with a tip of his hat and a tentative smile. Clearly, he felt as uncomfortable as she did.

“Hi, Keith.” She stopped abruptly, an arm's length away. “Did you have a good trip?” she greeted him lamely, feeling twice as uneasy as she'd imagined.

“It was long,” he replied. “I'm happy not to do it again for a while…I'm even happier to see you
.
”

“I…um…
we're both
really glad you came,” Miranda said. “I was half-afraid you'd change your mind.”

His black eyes captured and held hers. “I don't make many promises, Miranda, but I always keep the ones I make.”

She could see he was trying, but it still seemed impossible to just pick up where they'd left off. It would take some time to find their footing with each other again.

“Jo-Jo asked me to apologize for not being here to welcome you. She had to run into town for some groceries. I'll warn you ahead of time that she's a fantastic cook, as long as you don't follow a low-fat diet.”

“Are you kidding?” His chuckle sliced the tension. “I grew up on fry bread. It's cooked in Crisco.”

“Then you should love Jo-Jo's cooking. I've gained five pounds already. If I'm not more careful, I'm going to have to buy some bigger clothes.”

“You look good to me,” he said, his eyes raking appreciatively over her. “I think ranch life must suit you.”

“Thanks. You look good to me too.” He was dressed in his customary faded jeans and a worn denim jacket, but Keith would look good in a burlap sack. “Um, how do you want to do this?” she asked.

He nodded to the trailer behind his truck. “How about we start by unloading the horses?”

“Horses?”

“Yes. I brought three. The two mares are a gift for you…from Mitch,” he quickly clarified. “You may have to check fences and might need to ride out among the herd from time to time, so we hoped they'd be useful to you. One of them is Sadie, the horse you rode in Nevada.”

“I remember her. She was a great little horse.” Miranda gave a gleeful squeal. “Wow. I can't believe this. I don't even know what to say.”

“Say you'll accept them.”

“Of course I will! That's so generous of you…of Mitch. I can't even tell you how badly I've missed riding since I've been here.”

“I also brought Blue Eye.”

“Blue Eye? The mustang you adopted? You didn't take him back?” she asked in surprise.

“No, I didn't,” he replied. “We'll need to keep him separated from the mares and any other horses you have, at least until I've decided what to do with him.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked. “Aren't you going to train him?”

He shrugged. “If he'll be trained. Some refuse.”

“Horses are a lot like people, aren't they?” Her gaze sought his. “You have to earn their trust.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But trust comes much easier to some than to others.”

She knew he wasn't just speaking of the horse.

“There shouldn't be any problem keeping them apart,” she said. “We have a large, round pen we can put him in. It's where I learned to ride.”

“Is there room to back the trailer up to it?” he asked. “The trailer is partitioned, with the mares together in the front and him in the back, so I have to get him off first.”

“Yes. There's plenty of room.”

Miranda showed him to the small corral. A few minutes later he backed up flush against the gate. “You'll need to stand on the other side of the panel and out of his way,” he instructed. “I still don't trust this horse any farther than I can throw him.”

“Even now?” she asked.

“Yes. Even now. The chemical castration was ineffective. I have a good hunch they tried the drugs on him because no vet cared to risk his life cutting him. He's aggressive as hell. I've been on the road so much that I haven't had time yet to teach him any manners, but at least he's accustomed to fencing. I doubt he'll try to go through it, and hope he can't get over it.”

He opened the gate to the pen and then moved to release the trailer door. In a few swift and efficient movements, he released the latch and stepped behind the door. The horse stuck his head out, made some low grunting sounds, craned his neck, and raised his upper lip, but made no move to get off the trailer.

“Why isn't he getting out?” Miranda asked.

“I'm guessing he doesn't want to leave the mares.”

“What's that funny thing he's doing with his lip?”

“It's called flehmen. Horses have a special olfactory organ located above the roof of the mouth. Raising the lip helps a stallion to determine if a mare's in season for breeding. It's the wrong time of year, as mares only cycle from spring to early fall, but that won't stop him from hoping he has a chance. Gelding him is the only sensible thing to do. Keeping him intact is only going to frustrate the hell out of him.”

As if on cue, the horse looked Keith's way with a glare and a snort.

“Horses get sexually frustrated? Like we do?”

“They do,” he replied slowly, maybe even cautiously. “A stallion's sex drive is a powerful force.”

“He's so proud and full of himself,” Miranda said. “I love watching him.”

“He's full of himself all right,” Keith remarked dryly.

“How are you going to geld him if nobody can go near him?”

“It'll probably take a tranquilizer gun to get the job done.”

“Will it really help his behavior?”

“It should, but who knows. He's already had large doses of medication to lower his testosterone, but he still thinks he's a stud. Sometimes it takes a while for the testosterone levels to drop, but he should have already settled down.”

She nodded to the stallion. “He's still not getting off the trailer. What are you going to do?”

He leaned back against the corral panels, propping a boot heel on the steel rail. “I'll give him a few more minutes to figure things out before I interfere. Would you do me a favor and grab the bungee cord out of my truck?”

“Sure? Where exactly is it?”

“Under the passenger seat.”

When Miranda returned, Keith used the bungee to secure the trailer door to the corral panel. He then climbed over the corral, dropping to the ground beside her. They stood watching the wary stallion, who still evinced no desire to leave the trailer.

It was the closest they'd been to each other in a long time, and his proximity hit her hard. Any resolution she had to keep things on a professional level melted that moment. Fifteen minutes in his company already had her aching for his touch. How could she ever last a whole week? A day? Even another hour? Miranda suddenly felt a lot like that horse. Now that Keith was here, it was impossible
not
to think about being with him again. Did he feel it too? Did he still want to be with her?

“This is a real nice place.” He nodded to the house and surroundings, still revealing nothing of his thoughts. “I didn't really get to see it last time I was here.”

“It's been my grandmother's home for over fifty years,” Miranda replied. Now that he'd set the tone, she had no choice but to follow suit with inane small talk. “It's also where my grandfather grew up. His parents homesteaded the place during the depression. They came out West and never looked back.”

“You sound like you're happy here,” he remarked.

“I am. I never could have imagined doing anything like this, but everything just seems to have led to it.”

“There isn't any chance I can still talk you out of it, is there?” he asked.

“No, Keith. The deal is signed. I couldn't back out even if I wanted to, but I don't want to. I'm even hoping you'll come to see this as a good thing.”

“That's doubtful,” he said.

The two old geldings grazing in the pasture suddenly caught the stallion's attention. He blew out a loud snort and leapt off the trailer to charge down the fence line, neck arched and ears flat. Keith sprang into action, closing the trailer door and then the corral gate to lock him in.

“We need to be very careful to keep him away from them.” He nodded to Jesse and Doc. “Blue Eye is going to see any other male as a threat to his harem. There wouldn't be an issue if there weren't any mares around, but once mares are in the mix, a stud horse can be a real pain in the ass to keep. It probably would have been better if I'd brought geldings instead of mares. It also wouldn't be a bad idea to keep the mares separate from your geldings, just in case this guy should get out.”

“It shouldn't be any problem. There's plenty of room here. The ranch has two corrals and over two thousand acres of pastures.”

* * *

After they unloaded and fed all the horses, Miranda showed Keith around the ranch. Even though he'd come with the best of intentions, his resistance was slipping fast. It had taken him less than five minutes to realize he'd only been fooling himself to think he could ever maintain a platonic relationship with Miranda. He'd been fighting the urge to touch her from the moment he climbed down from his truck.

“Do you want to see the bunkhouse now?” she asked.

“Sure. Let me just grab my stuff.”

Walking side by side, he noticed her long strides perfectly matched his. He didn't stifle the impulse to rest his hand on her lower back. She glanced up at him, her gray eyes flickering. He broke the contact only to grab his two bags. His hungry eyes were glued to her shapely little denim-clad ass as he followed her to the bunkhouse. His thoughts and emotions were jumbled as she fumbled with the lock. His resolution was already weakening.

She opened the door to the single-story split-log cabin and beckoned him inside. “It's not much, but I hope you'll feel at home here. This is the living area. We cleaned the place and aired it out last week, and replaced all the linens. There's a fridge, microwave, and coffee pot in the kitchenette, but we're happy to feed you over at the house.”

He gave the room a cursory inspection. It was sparsely furnished, just an overstuffed sofa, end table, a television, and a recliner. There was a multipurpose wood-burning stove between the living room and kitchenette. It was more than adequate for his needs.

She turned to face him, her expression soft and inviting. “I really mean that, Keith. I want you to feel welcome here. Your coming means more than I can say.”

“I already told you not to read too much into it,” he replied brusquely. “I'm not a convert to your ‘save the mustangs' campaign, Miranda.”

“But you
are
here,” she countered. “I think I'm reading that part right enough.”

“I'm here for
you
,” he said.

“Is that so?” she whispered. “Then what are you waiting for?”

The look in her eyes was a blatant invitation, but Keith still resisted. “I told you before that it's a bad idea to mix business with pleasure.”

“But you didn't want the paycheck, did you?” she countered softly.

“No. I don't need your money,” he said.

“Since you refused my offer of payment, technically this isn't a business arrangement, is it?” She toyed with a golden curl. “The way I see it, it's more like a friend doing a favor for a friend.”

“Even so, if this is going to work out, we need to set some ground rules and abide by them.”

“Should I show you the rest?” she asked, ignoring his remark. “The bedroom used to have two sets of oversized bunks,” she said. “We've replaced those with a full-size bed. I think you'll find it quite comfortable.” She licked her lips. “Do you want to see it?”

He hesitated. The last thing he needed was to be alone with her in a bedroom. It wasn't that he didn't want her. He did, maybe too much, and that was the root of the problem.

“I'm not so sure we should go in there. If we do, there's no turning back again.” If they continued down this path, all his good intentions would soon be nothing more than the paving stones to hell.

She tipped her chin to meet his eyes. “But I don't want to turn back. We've had too much of that already. I want us to move forward again. The real question is, do you?”

“I've already told you I can't make any promises. I don't know what my future holds.”

“I don't care about the future,” she said. “Why not concentrate on the present and hold
me
?”

He dropped his bags with a thump, freeing his hands to clasp her waist. Hers crept up his chest to loop around his neck. They stood like that, body to body, heartbeat to heartbeat for long, silent seconds.

“Keith? When the time is right, how do they go about it?”

He shook his head with a look of confusion. “How does who go about what?”

“The stallion and mare,” she said. “How does she let him know that she's receptive?”

“If she's not in season, she'll either show no interest in him at all or try to kick his teeth out. If he knows what's good for him, he behaves like a gentleman until he's clearly invited.”

She took his hand, leading him toward the next room. “What happens once he knows she's interested?” she asked. “Does he just climb on top of her and go at it, or is there some kind of mating ritual?”

Her question took him off balance, but the glimmer in her eye brought instant understanding.
Hell yeah.
He could certainly get into this game. “A good stallion woos his mare.”