Suspicions of the Heart

Suspicions of the Heart

by Rita Hestand

Smashwords Edition

copyright © 2009 Rita
Hestand

Smashwords Edition

License Note

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Dedication
:

It's time to thank my children, and
grandchildren for all the patience they've shown for my
writing.

For the many times I've ignored them,
and the many times I've shared with them, thank you from the bottom
of my heart.

God bless……Rita Hestand

CHAPTER ONE

"Come on Lancer, let's show them how
it's done, baby," Candy Arnold said with a big smile.

The roaring of the crowd rang like a
gong. Sheer excitement keyed the air. Beneath her the horse moved
with an exact sameness. Softly ploughed dirt scattered under
Lancer's hoofs, as trick rider and beast attuned
themselves.

Not bad. Candy responded with another
flashing smile as the crowd cheered her on. She circled the arena
as she maneuvered for the running trick mounts. Timing was
ultra-critical. Lancer sprang into action upon her signals. Half
way through the next trick, as she whirled about the horse like an
acrobat, there was another roar of cheers and whistles. Candy felt
her confidence soar.

She sensed the danger instantly, but it
was too late to do anything about it. She felt Lancer's head going
down too soon. The turn was too wide. The horse stumbled and
faltered, sending her careening to the ground, face first. She
gritted her teeth and, strangely enough, she could hear the breath
rush from her lungs. Stunned, she lay immobile. Where was
Lancer?

A black void threatened to overcome her
but she fought it back. Had the crowd hushed or had she lost her
hearing, too? Trying to regain her composure, she opened her eyes
and locked gazes with the meanest, angriest bull she had ever
seen--only a few yards away.

Obviously, it looked good to the crowd;
they roared with blind excitement. They didn't know it, but this
wasn't part of her act, and Candy was terrified.

White-hot fear shot through
her.

Was this the end? Was that mad,
drooling, over-grown bulldozer going to be her demise? At least it
was a befitting death, she mused, as her body refused to
move.

The rodeo clowns sprang into action,
but the bull wasn't interested in their antics. No--he had
something else on his mind. One familiar clown worked diligently to
distract him. It didn't work. The bull gave an angry snort, and
then fastened his blood-red eyes on Candy. One of his hoof's dug a
short path deeper and deeper into the soft ploughed
ground.

Once more the crowd fell
silent.

Candy's eyes widened; sweat trickled
between her breasts. She was welded to the soft earth. Fear surged
through her in ripples of awareness, like a movie reel suddenly
gone bad.

They called the bull White Demon, and
for good reason. Candy gulped back a sob.

Come on, get it over with, her mind
cried as she closed her eyes. She smelled the good, clean earth one
last time; she felt her heart hammer against her chest. She gritted
her teeth.

Then, from out of nowhere a horse and
rider sped swiftly to her aid.

She heard a richly hypnotic voice
command the dog. "Hold 'em Butch."

Candy opened her eyes. A shadow
appeared before her, and for a moment she didn't move. Was this
real? No, things like that only happened in the movies. Wishful
thinking. It was all just a dream. Wasn't it? Of course she was
dreaming. That's why none of this seemed real.

The question went unanswered when
suddenly a comforting arm reached down to grab and pull her to the
safety of a softly worn saddle. Candy's arms locked about a lean,
hard waist as the mysterious horse and rider galloped hastily for
the protective gates.

Once back on safe ground, the man who
saved her glanced down into her face. His eyes were shadowed by his
hat. "You okay, sweetheart?"

"I…I think so."

She was shaking, feeling as though
every bone in her body had gone to mush, but she managed a bright
smile for the crowd as she waved at them.

She never got the chance to convey her
thanks. The cowboy abruptly took his leave.

Candy leaned against the gate for a
moment. Her hands trembled as she grabbed the rail for support. It
wasn't a dream or a nightmare, this was real.

Laughter peeled through the air as the
clowns made a monkey out of the perturbed bull.

Candy glanced about and saw her Uncle
Roscoe leading Lancer to the back pasture. Lancer must be as shaken
as she. She'd check on him as soon as her legs would carry her. For
the moment, she just couldn't go anywhere. She had to stop shaking
first.

Her mysterious hero was the first rider
in the bull-riding event. The crowd cheered so loudly for him she
couldn't hear his name being announced. Funny, but she couldn't
recall him. And she was sure she would have remembered those oh so
blue eyes! It was the only thing she got a good look at; startling
blue eyes staring at her through the shadows of his hat.

Perching barefoot on the railing she
watched his ride. From the moment the chute opened, she knew he was
in control of the animal. He sat the bull as though he were made
for just such a purpose. His moves were calculated and smooth; he'd
get a high score, no doubt about that. The man could ride. His hat
bounced off, and his thick, black hair flounced in the evening
air.

"Wow!"

But where had he come from? He
certainly wasn't a regular. And more importantly, how was she going
to go about thanking him without looking too eager?

The buzzer rang. His score was the
highest she'd heard of this season. The crowd got louder. A real
champion stood in their midst and they knew it. This was no
drugstore cowboy; he was the Real McCoy and the audience was eating
him up.

Curious about him, she followed him
through the crowd after his ride, until he disappeared behind the
chutes. She hurried along, not wanting to lose sight of him. But
several friends stopped her along the way to inquire about the
accident and inform her that her Uncle had already checked Lancer.
She brushed the accident aside for the moment, ignoring the fact
that she was a little dizzy.

She finally caught sight of her hero
again heading for the pasture out back. She waited until he bent to
untie his chaps before she approached him. Gently, she tugged at
his shirtsleeve. Hard, rippling muscles flexed against her
fingertips. He whipped about in surprise.

"Hi."

She could have sworn he was taller, but
she could almost meet him eye to eye. And what a meeting! Never had
she seen such probing eyes. He looked like something out of a
romance novel. Handsome didn't quite describe this man! He
literally took her breath away, lean, hard-muscled,
broad-shouldered, and narrow-hipped. He personified the word
"cowboy".

"I wanted to thank you for the help out
there--"

He gave her a slight nod. "That was a
pretty nasty fall you took. Are you feeling okay?" His voice was
laced with genuine concern as his gaze searched her
face.

"I'm fine," she replied, watching him
adjust his hat so it rode in a more familiar place. She liked the
way he wore his hair, high and straight, waving where his hat brim
rode. She stared at him a little too long and he gave her a slight
lopsided grin.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" she
asked when a flash of familiarity flirted her memory.

He paused for a moment, blinked long
ebony lashes against a shadowed cheekbone, then boldly met her
gaze. "That's not a very original line, but it's
possible."

He thought she was she flirting? Trying
to be cute? His arrogance made her temper flare, yet the
overwhelming need to be grateful simmered her down.

"I wasn't trying to be cute. I simply
thought I recognized you. I know most…"

"Lady," he interrupted her as he tipped
his hat to her and winked, "You don't have to try being cute,
you've got that one already sewn up. And, like I said, it's
possible. Especially since I'm your dad's neighbor."

"My… dad's?" She recoiled, deliberately
ignoring the compliment he had thrown her.

"That's right, my land borders his. He
bought the old Thompson place a few years ago, didn't
he?"

"That's right," she said, trying to
assimilate the news and place him at the same time.

Silhouetted by the fast setting sun, he
looked taller, leaner, his silhouette was breathtaking. She hadn't
meant to notice the wide shoulders and tapering hips, but he lent
such a shadow. He was quite a hero, after all.

"You're Joe Munroe?" The name seemed
only waiting to be pronounced. She vaguely remembered her father
mentioning him, but couldn't recall what he had said about the
man.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, tipping his
hat again, this time not looking directly at her, but illuminating
a strong profile.

It nettled her to admit it, but the man
was overly endowed with his share of good looks. She didn't judge a
man by looks alone, though. Candy prided herself in not falling
prey to every good-looking cowboy who came along. Probably another
Romeo cowboy, she reasoned. Candy couldn't remember when she'd been
so intrigued, though. There was something compelling about him that
seemed to draw her full attention. And that voice could placate
White Demon.

Okay, she'd give him that; he was cute.
No reason for her heart to flutter, no reason at all. She didn't
want it to flutter. She didn't want to notice all the little things
about this man, but they sort of jumped out at her. He had the
whitest teeth and the sexiest crooked smile she had encountered in
a long time. Just a turn of a corner of that nicely firmed mouth
sent a tremor through her.

She had lost her mind, she decided
grimly. Must have been the fall...

Why, she was practically
drooling.

Yet, as compelling as his looks were,
it was the soft quality of his voice that sent Candy's pulse
soaring every time he opened that mobile mouth. Soft and sincere,
and his voice filled with a strange kind of honesty and
concern.

Candy no longer believed in heroes. The
man was just a little too good to be true. There had to be
something wrong with him, somewhere.

"Well," she groped for something to
say, knowing she had spent too long openly admiring him. Men
usually had big enough egos without giving them something to chomp
on. She half turned away. "Thanks again, Mr. Munroe."

"Joe," he quickly amended. "Your horse
has a puncture wound, that's why he didn't make that
turn."