Takin' The Reins (12 page)

“Can you close the door?” he asked.

“Oh, okay.” She pushed the heavy door closed and slid the handle into place.

“Where are you taking them?” she asked, jogging to catch up with his long-legged strides.

“I’m turning them out in the pasture. Come with me and watch what I do. This is your first lesson.” When he approached the metal gate, Wyatt opened it with one hand and unsnapped the lead rope from the gelding’s halter. “Yah!” he called, and slapped the horse on the rump. The horse kicked up his feet and galloped down the field before stopping to nibble at dry grass.

Jordan stood at the fence, captivated. “That’s awesome.”

He grinned. “Close this gate and we’ll get another one.”

“What? How do I close it?” She fumbled with the complicated latch.

“Like this.” He showed her the way to lock the latch so the horse wouldn’t prod it with its nose and escape. His nearness stirred those same warm feelings in her she’d felt last night. “Got it now?” he asked, bumping her shoulder on purpose.

“Got it.”

“You don’t want your horses running loose all over the county. Let’s go get the next one.” His long strides were purposeful.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” She ran to catch up. He opened the trailer door again without answering. “Aren’t you going to tell me their names?” she asked.

He snapped the rope onto the next horse’s halter and led him off the trailer the way he had with the first. “The one in the field is Trigger. This one is Prince. I think.”

Once again, Jordan followed him to the pasture and stood at the fence as he released the animal to join the other. She latched the gate without being told this time, and they walked back to the trailer side by side. This routine was repeated three more times until only one horse remained. Wyatt stood at the end of the trailer bed and whistled.

“Buttercup! Wake up, you lazy girl.”

Jordan squinted. “Is she sleeping?”

“Yep. Guess she had a late night,” he joked.

“Is she the only female?”

“Yes. They’re called mares.”

“I knew that.” Jordan slid him a smile. “I just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

“I always pay attention when a pretty woman talks to me.”

The golden horse with a snow-white mane and tail opened her eyes and slowly turned her head. She neighed softly and nudged at something furry near her legs. Jordan blinked. The back of the trailer was dim. It was difficult to see clearly. Puzzled, she squinted again, in order to get a better look. “There’s something standing behind the horse. It’s short, black and hairy. What on earth?” She threw a questioning glance at Wyatt. He responded with a sheepish grin.

“Maaaaa.”A fat pigmy goat with horns made its appearance, stepping out from behind the mare.

“What is that?” Jordan pointed. Wyatt hopped into the trailer and scratched Buttercup on the head as he hooked the lead rope to her halter. He led the Palomino out of the trailer with the beady-eyed creature waddling behind.

“Jordan, this here is Houdini.” To the goat, he said, “Houdini, meet your new mommy.” The goat leaped off the back of the trailer with the grace of a flying pig and stared up at her. Her jaw dropped.

“Come on, Buttercup.” When Wyatt began leading the mare toward the pasture, the goat sidled up to Jordan and rubbed the side of his head against her outer thigh.

“What’s he doing?” She squealed and jumped away as if she’d been burned. The goat was insistent. He rubbed again, still ogling her.

“Give him a pet. Or shove him away if you don’t want him bothering you,” Wyatt called over his shoulder.

“Oh. Okay.” With a tentative hand, she patted his side. When the goat cried,”Maaaaa,” she smiled and hollered, “I think Houdini likes me, Brannigan. He’s pretty cute, but his head must itch because he keeps rubbing it against me.” Just as she reached out to scratch between his horns, Wyatt turned and yelled.

“Don’t touch his horns!”

“Wha-?” The goat reared up and slammed his horns into the tender flesh of her bare leg. She howled and the goat butted her again.

“Get him off me!” she screamed.

Wyatt dropped Buttercup’s lead rope. He ran to where Jordan stood and roughly shoved the goat away. “Git!” He knelt and examined her leg with gentle hands. “Are you all right?”

“I think so. I’m not bleeding, am I?” She felt her eyes cloud and mist.

“No blood. He didn’t open the skin.” Wyatt stood. “I’m so sorry. I remembered too late about him not liking his horns touched. I should have said something before I let him out of the trailer, but it slipped my mind.”

Jordan glared at the animal. The little bully planted his hooves, lowered his head and glowered back, like a bull ready to charge.

“Where did you find that psychotic demon?” she asked, trembling from the scare.

“Houdini’s been with Buttercup since the day Lydia brought her to the ranch. Houdini was a rescue himself.”

“Gee, I wonder why.” She cast another glance at her thigh, which was starting to bruise.

“That goat took to Buttercup like a bee takes to honey and hasn’t left her side since. I guess he’s in love.”

“Lucky for her.” Jordan’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Maaaaa,” the goat replied.

“Maaaaa yourself,” she mocked. “Houdini, huh? I don’t have to guess how you arrived at your name.”

Wyatt wiped a tear from her cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. I guess I have to expect the unexpected if I’m to make it as a rancher.”

He patted her leg. “You’ve got that right. Don’t touch his horns,” he reminded as he retrieved Buttercup’s lead rope from the ground.

“Right. No horn touching.”

“Let’s take them to the pasture.” Wyatt whistled, and Houdini trotted to the mare and toddled behind as she was walked to the field. After they were shooed in and the gate was closed, the two animals huddled together, watching the other horses run across the grass. In a short time, Houdini turned his attention to the pipe fence. He attached his bucked teeth to the bottom rail and began gnawing. Wyatt shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Another big truck rumbled up the drive catching their attention.

“Now, who’s coming?” Jordan asked, checking her watch for the time. She limped beside Wyatt.

“That’ll be the hay man,” he said, slamming the trailer door shut. “He’s making your delivery, so I’d better move my rig out of the way.” He moved his pickup and trailer to the other side of the driveway. Along with Jordan’s Jeep, Cole’s truck, and his workers’ vehicle, the driveway looked like a used car lot. The hay man maneuvered his truck as close to the barn entrance as possible. The bed was stacked six layers high with hay. Wyatt and Jordan shook hands with the older man when he slid out of his cab and Wyatt made the introductions.

“Jordan Mackenzie, this is Ronnie Porter. He’s got the best hay in the county. I told him you’d need to be supplied in the fall and the spring from now on.”

“Thank you. I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Porter.”

“Same here.” It was apparent right off the bat that Porter was a no-nonsense kind of man. He touched the brim of his cap, flipped open the tailgate, and began to unload bales with no further chatter. Noting his bulging arm muscles and guessing him to be in his sixties, Jordan figured he was in better shape than most of the younger men she knew because of years of lifting and throwing hay bales around. As he tossed the bales onto the ground, Wyatt carried them into the barn and stacked them against the wall. Jordan watched, feeling useless, but she couldn’t begin to help because of her aching back and shoulders. Knowing it would be rude if she left while they were working for her benefit, she just stood and watched them sweat.

Porter was pulling a bale out of the back when a streak of black came charging around the corner of the barn. Looking neither left nor right, Houdini made a beeline for the man and rammed him in the buttocks. Stunned, Porter fell to the ground, moaning and clutching his punctured backside. Jordan ran to him, screaming for Wyatt. She tried to help Porter up as she chastised the goat. The ornery animal danced in circles nearby, panting with his tongue hanging out.

“Houdini! Bad goat! How did you get out of the pasture?” She shoved him with her foot as he moved in for another jab.

“Brannigan!” she screamed again.

Porter’s eyes rolled back. “What the hell was that? My ass is on fire. Excuse the language, ma’am.” He wiped a tear from his eye as Jordan lifted him by the elbow and helped him to his feet.

“No need to apologize, Mr. Porter. I’m so sorry.”

Wyatt came running from the barn. He didn’t have to ask what had happened; the scene said it all. Without a thought to the warning he’d given Jordan, he grabbed Houdini by the horns and dragged the creature back to the field.

“Maaaaa! Maaaaa!”

Jordan watched the goat squirm beneath his large, capable hands. “That, I’m afraid, Mr. Porter, was the devil.”

“Well, he skewered me good,” the old man cried, wincing in pain.

“Oh, my.” She opened the door of Porter’s truck and helped him to lie down in the seat on his side. “I’ll run into the house and call 911.”

He waved his hand in the air. “No, no. Just let me rest a moment. I’ll be okay.” He closed his eyes and she prayed he wouldn’t pass out. His pants were ripped in the back, and bits of hay were stuck to his sweaty face. She had to do something.

“I’ll be right back,” she assured him. “I’ll bring you a cold drink and a wet cloth for your head.” She entered the house and went straight to the kitchen. Cole poked his head out the bathroom. While she explained what had just happened with the goat, she filled two glasses with ice and water and soaked a cloth in cold water.

“I know Ronnie,” he said. “Maybe I can help.” He put down his tools and followed her outside.

“That rotten goat got me earlier, too,” she mumbled as they hurried to the pickup. “He might end up as shish kabob. Here you go, Mr. Porter.” She offered him a glass of water, which he gratefully accepted.

By the time, Wyatt had returned to the truck, so she handed him a glass, too. He nodded at Cole, but neither man spoke. Pulling him aside, she whispered, “This poor man is old. I don’t see any blood, and I don’t think there’s an open wound, but I’d feel better if a doctor checked him out. He wouldn’t allow me to call 911.”

There was no hesitation on Wyatt’s part. “I’ll take him to town. There’s a doctor who takes walk-ins.”

“I’m feeling better now,” Porter said, sitting up. His face had gotten its color back after having grown ashy. “Let’s get that hay unloaded.”

Wyatt laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. “No, Ronnie. I’ll take care of the hay. You stay right here and rest. As soon as I’m done, I’m going to drive you to town to the clinic to see a doctor. Ms. Mackenzie and I both think it’s a good idea.”

The old man went “Pffff” and curled his lip. “I don’t need a doctor. My skin’s as tough as a rhino’s.”

“I’m sure it is,” Jordan replied sweetly, “but we don’t know where that goat’s horns have been. You might need a Tetanus shot. If nothing else, the doctor can give you a prescription for pain. That butt had to have hurt.” As an afterthought, she said, “No pun intended.”

He rolled his eyes and blushed with apparent humiliation. Wyatt and Cole were unable to hold back chuckles.

“I’m terribly sorry this happened, Mr. Porter,” Jordan added. “I want to pay for the doctor’s visit and any other expenses you might incur. I insist.” She didn’t need to incur more trouble in her first week in New Mexico. After thinking it over a minute, he relinquished.

“All right, Ms. Mackenzie. If you insist.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “I do.”

“Okay. I’ll let Wyatt take me to the clinic.”

“Thank you, Mr. Porter.” Although Wyatt and Cole both knew the man, she didn’t, and this wasn’t a good way to start off with him. She was a city girl and knew people sued for lesser things. She sat with Ronnie as Wyatt hauled the remaining hay bales off the truck, with Cole pitching in to carry and stack them. Jordan noticed they didn’t talk to one another, but they worked well as a team and got the job done in good time. When they finished, she suggested they go to the house to wash up. Wyatt pulled a hankie from his back pocket and wiped his face.

“This will work for me.” He slid into the driver’s side of Porter’s truck. Jordan leaned into the open window.

“Thank you, Brannigan. I appreciate all you’re doing. Do you think he’ll be all right?” Seated semi-upright in the passenger seat, Porter continued to groan softly with his eyes closed.

“Yeah. That rotten goat. I think it was a bad idea bringing him here.” He shook his head.

“He might escape and run away, if I’m lucky,” Jordan said.

“Don’t count on it. He’ll not go far from Buttercup.” He turned the key and the engine roared. “I’ll come back for my truck and trailer later.”

“Thanks again.” He dangled his arm out the window and she gave it a squeeze. As the truck puttered down the driveway, she sighed. “Never a dull moment.”

“Are you going to Alamogordo now?” Cole’s voice startled her, causing her to jump. She turned, having momentarily forgotten he was nearby, and looked at her watch.

“I’d better, or the day will be gone before I know it. Thanks for helping Brannigan unload the hay. That was nice of you.”

“I wasn’t helping him. I did it for you.”

“I know. Thanks all the same.”

His blue eyes glistened. The man looked so cool and refreshed, she never would have guessed he’d just unloaded hay bales in the hot sun. It was hard to pry her eyes off him, but she had things to do.

“I’m off before anything else delays me,” she hollered, limping to her Jeep.

Chapter Ten

Jordan got a lot accomplished on her shopping trip and was pleased with the purchases—a new stove, microwave, fridge, and stackable washer and dryer, all to be delivered early next week. She also bought a hickory bathroom vanity, designed to look like a dry sink, and chose an ultra modern vessel bowl for on top. The two of them fit snuggly in the back of the Jeep with the back seat laid down. Paint and curtains were the final items she bought.