The Littlest Cowboy Page 8

  Chapter 8

  The jeans were a bit long, but rolled up they were a fair fit. The boots were perfect. She and Jessi were both size seven, so their fit was comfy. Jessi had tossed in a rather tight-fitting tank top and a flannel shirt, insisting it would be hot by the time Chelsea returned, and she’d be glad to have the thin top underneath.

  When Chelsea stepped out onto the front porch, two horses stood saddled and waiting. The gigantic dappled gray one she’d heard Garrett call Duke, and a smaller white mare with a handful of black spots on her rump, who had to be Sugar.

  Garrett stood beside the horses, his big hand stroking Sugar’s neck. He looked up at Chelsea, smiled a welcome, but she still had the niggling suspicion this little outing hadn’t been his idea. And that he was less than happy about it.

  She eyed the white horse, and her nerves jangled to life.

  “Don’t be scared, Chelsea. She’s as gentle as a kitten. Come here.” He held out a hand.

  Chelsea went down the front steps and took it. When Garrett closed his fingers around her hand, he stilled for a second, staring down at their clasped hands as if in surprise. He drew her closer to the animal, laid her hand gently on the mare’s neck, where his had been only seconds ago.

  Chelsea stroked the animal’s sleek neck and smiled. “She’s beautiful.”

  “So are you.”

  She looked up quickly, only to see Garrett avert his face and pretend to tighten the girth straps.

  “Now,” he said, turning to face her again, “take hold of the pommel.”

  Licking her lips, she did.

  “Put your foot in the stirrup.”

  She drew a breath and followed his instructions.

  “Now swing your other leg over.”

  She nodded and pulled herself up. But the horse was tall, and she lost her momentum before she got her leg all the way over. Garrett’s hands closed on her bottom, pushing her up, giving her enough of a lift to boost her into the saddle.

  She felt her cheeks burn and couldn’t look at him.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, handing her the reins. He walked around the mare, checking to be sure Chelsea had her foot firmly in the stirrup on the other side, then mounted his own horse in a move so smooth and effortless that watching him made her feel like a klutz. He held the reins loosely in one hand, and she imitated him. “Ready?”

  She nodded once, then Garrett turned his horse and started across the lawn. Sugar didn’t need Chelsea to tell her what to do. She turned, as well, and walked slow and easy beside Duke. They approached an open gate, and Wes, who was standing nearby, closed it behind them after they moved through.

  “Squeeze your thighs around her, Chelsea,” Garrett instructed, looking at her dangling legs.

  She squeezed, and Sugar shot forward into a trot, causing Chelsea to bounce up and down until her teeth rattled. Garrett caught up to her within a few seconds, grabbed the reins and tugged gently. Sugar came to a halt.

  “What did I do?” Chelsea asked, breathless.

  “Dug your heels into her side. Just squeeze gently with your knees. You dig those heels in, she thinks you want to run.”

  Chelsea tried again, and this time the horse didn’t take off. Garrett handed the reins back to her, his hand brushing hers as she took them. They started off again, side by side, and she knew he was going much more slowly than he probably would if he were alone. They rode into rolling green meadows, and soon she saw the curly coats of the white-faced Herefords dotting the grass in the distance. As they drew nearer, she saw calves running and jumping like children, and docile cows chewing lazily as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

  “They’re something, aren’t they?” Garrett remarked, drawing to a halt at a spot where they could look out over part of the herd.

  Imitating Garrett again, Chelsea reined in her mount and followed his gaze. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that…peaceful.”

  It was true. Sitting here astride this gentle mare, beside this gentle man, with this gentle scene spread out before her, she felt that peace begin to fill her. This was a good place, this Texas Brand. A magical place. The vivid blue sky stretched wider than she’d ever seen it. And the sun beat down just as Jessi had predicted it would. Heat poured through her flannel shirt, and her skin dampened and prickled. Very carefully, she shrugged the shirt off one arm, but only got it partway down her shoulder before the horse danced a little, and she had to make a grab for the pommel.

  “I…uh…” Garrett’s horse sidled closer to hers. “I can get that.” He reached out with one hand and pushed the shirt down her arm. She let go so he could tug it off, then held on with her other hand as Garrett’s big, callused one pushed the shirt down from her opposite shoulder. His palm skimmed her arm all the way down, and she shivered. She closed her eyes without quite realizing she was doing so. She sensed him taking the shirt, and when she opened her eyes, she saw him staring at her. There was something in his gaze. Something new…and a little scary.

  He blinked it away, tucking the shirt in front of him on the saddle, then nudged his horse into motion once more.

  For an hour, they rode in silence, and Chelsea took in the beauty and tranquility of the surroundings. The only sounds were the steady tromping of the horses’ hooves, the creak of saddle leather, and once in a while, the gentle blowing sound made by the horses.

  Garrett tugged Duke to a stop when they came to a small stream with a couple of trees on the far bank. He dismounted in one smooth motion and came to her side. “Better take a break,” he said.

  “Oh, but I’m fine.”

  He smiled, a big lopsided smile that made her stomach clench tight. “You think you’re fine. But believe me, you’re working muscles you didn’t know you had. Come on, get down for a few minutes.”

  She nodded. “Okay, you’re the expert.” She braced one foot in the stirrup and tried to swing off the way he’d done. But Sugar sidestepped and she felt herself falling. Then two big hands curled around her waist from behind, lifting her gently, easily down. Her backside brushed over the front of him as he lowered her, and a shiver worked right up her spine. When her feet touched down, he didn’t let go. Instead, his hands remained at her waist, holding her back against his body for a long moment.

  “Damn,” he whispered, and finally his hands fell away.

  She turned around and stared up into his eyes. Dark brown, gentle eyes that held hers captive.

  “Damn,” he said again.

  “Why do you keep saying that?”

  He closed his eyes, breaking that tenuous hold, but only briefly. “Because I know you don’t like being touched…and right now….” He shook his head in self-disgust. “I’m not good at this kind of thing, Chelsea. I don’t know the kinds of pretty words that make women go soft inside. I’m a simple man, and I’m accustomed to just saying what’s on my mind, straight out.”

  “So say it,” she whispered, and her voice trembled, and fear danced in her veins. She felt more alive than she ever had.

  “I want to kiss you.’’

  She looked into his eyes, then at the expanse of green around them. They were alone here. But for some reason, she wasn’t afraid. She’d never known a man as gentle as Garrett Brand. Not ever.

  She tipped up her head and moved closer. “Then…go ahead and kiss me,” she said, her words full of false bravado, but wavering all the same.

  Garrett bent his head and touched his lips to hers. He didn’t put his hands on her. He just kissed her slowly and gently, then lifted his head and searched her face.

  “Again?” he murmured.

  “Yes. Again.”

  This time his arms came up around her waist, his hands spanning the small of her back and easing her close to him. He kissed her again, nuzzling her lips until she parted them, then tracing their shape with his tongue.

  Chelsea’s pulse raced and nameless feelings swamped her mind. She put her hands on Garrett’s broad shoulders and slipped them around him until her
fingers tangled in his hair. She opened her mouth wider, ready now to experience more of this heady thing between them. Her heart pounded in her ears. Louder and louder, and when his tongue slowly slipped inside, it seemed the very ground under her feet trembled with–

  He jerked away from her, eyes wide with alarm. And he swore.

  “Garrett? Did I–”

  “Stampede!”

  His cry shocked her…then terrified her when its meaning became clear. She looked, and saw masses of frightened beasts churning the dust toward them. And even as Garrett reached for the horses, they bolted, wild-eyed, feet flying. Garrett’s arm snagged her around the waist, propelling her forward. He shouted something at her, but the thundering hoofbeats of the cattle drowned out even his booming voice. As they splashed across the icy stream, she could smell the terrified cattle. Then her body was thrust against the trunk of a tree, and Garrett’s ground tightly to her from behind, pinning her there. The animals were upon them, knocking into them on both sides, brushing, pushing. She felt Garrett’s body being torn away from her and she turned to see, but couldn’t.

  Then she heard a shout and saw a horse at full gallop, pressing through the rampaging cows. A man she’d never seen before sat tall on a sable-colored, wide-eyed stallion. She watched as he bent low, reached down and pulled Garrett up. Garrett seemed to spring from the ground and onto the back of that horse. His gaze was glued to the tree as the cattle flew past, and Chelsea clung to it with all her might as their bodies jostled hers. But one hit her too hard, and her palms scraped painfully over the rough bark as she fought to hold on. Her back bit the ground hard, and she automatically curled into-a ball, covering her face with her arms as her body was pummeled again and again. It felt as if several strong men were surrounding her, hitting her with hammers.

  The blows stopped at last. Then the thunder slowly died away. And all that remained was the blackened earth and torn grass and the sound of her own heart beating more loudly than those hooves had done. She uncurled cautiously, every movement hurting.

  The rider came forward. Garrett leaped from the horse and ran to her, dropping to his knees beside her. His hands gripped her shoulders, pulled her close to his big chest. She could feel the pounding of his heart there, hear the raspy rush of his quickened breaths.

  “Chelsea, dammit, are you all right?” He held her so hard, so tight, she could barely breathe.

  He eased back a little when she didn’t answer. Brown eyes flooded with worry scanned her body. His shirt was torn, one arm dripping blood, and there was another ugly cut high on his cheekbone. She lifted a hand toward him. “You’re hurt.”

  She heard galloping and jerked her head around, only to see Elliot and Wes approaching at top speed.

  “The hell with me! What about you? Damn, Chelsea, when I saw you fall–”

  “I’m all right.” She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself to her feet. She hurt. She hurt everywhere, but she didn’t think anything was broken. At least her arms and hands and legs and feet seemed to be in working order.

  Elliot and Wes had jumped from their horses and were running toward them now. There was real fear in their eyes when they reached their brother.

  “Garrett, are you okay?”

  “What the hell happened?”

  Garrett shook his head slowly, but his brown eyes narrowed dangerously as they found those of the stranger. “Something…or someone…spooked the cattle. Chelsea could have been killed.”

  The stranger said nothing. Just sat on that horse, holding Garrett’s accusing stare. He was dark and whip-cord lean, his face narrow and hard, with piercing pale blue eyes that even now seemed deathly calm. As Chelsea stared at him, something fluttered to the ground from his shirt pocket. A small slip of paper. She pointed at it and started to tell him, but Garrett’s angry voice made her go utterly still.

  “Who the hell are you, mister?”

  “Name’s Lash,” he replied, his face every bit as grim as Garrett’s.

  “It wasn’t him, Garrett,” Elliot said quickly. “He was with us.”

  Garrett gave Elliot a brief glance, then turned a questioning one on Wes.

  “Elliot’s right. Lash drove in right after you two left. Said he was looking for work. Since we’re shorthanded, I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea, and he was in a hurry to see you, so we saddled up and rode out here to run it by you.”

  “And it’s a damned good thing we did, Garrett,” Elliot added. “If Lash hadn’t cut through that mess of frantic beefers to pull you up, you’d be hamburger.”

  “He saw you go down,” Wes added. “We didn’t.”

  Garrett heaved a thoughtful sigh, but his eyes remained wary. He walked over to the stranger, who’d dismounted by this time, and offered his hand. “Seems I’m indebted to you.”

  The man shook Garrett’s hand. “You can repay me by hiring me on.”

  Garrett scowled. “Wish I could, friend, but this is a bad time–”

  “Garrett, we could use the help.”

  Garrett turned to Elliot with a look that clearly told him to shut up. Elliot pursed his lips. “Hell, I’ll go see if I can round up the horses.” He headed for his own horse, jumped back into the saddle, wheeled around and rode off, leaving no one in any doubt as to his opinion of Garrett’s decision..

  Chelsea wondered why Garrett would be so distrustful of the man who’d probably saved his life. She knew Elliot was right. How many times had she heard them talking about how shorthanded they were right now?

  “Like I said, it’s a bad time,” Garrett repeated, turning back to the stranger.

  “I’m a good hand,” Lash returned easily. “But if it’s a bad time, it’s a bad time.” He shrugged as if he could care less. “You want some help herding those cattle back where they belong?”

  “We can handle it.”

  “I got nowhere to go.”

  Garrett frowned. It wasn’t like him to be rude, though Chelsea assumed that nearly being trampled to death would make even a saint grouchy.

  “Fine. Ride along if you want.” Elliot was riding toward them now, flanked by Duke and Sugar. Garrett returned to Chelsea and lifted a tender hand to push her hair away from her face. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “A few bruises, I think. Nothing serious.”

  “You up to the ride back to the house?”

  She swallowed hard, but nodded. How else was she going to get back?

  “The hell you are,” he muttered.

  Elliot jumped off his horse and led the other two mounts over to Garrett and Chelsea. “Garrett, why don’t you take her back? The three of us can handle the cows. They’ve stopped running already. Tore through the north fence line, though. We’ll drive ‘em back in, repair the fence and meet you later at the house in time for lunch. All right?”

  Garrett looked torn. For some reason, he didn’t want to leave his brothers out here alone. Was he worried about the jumpy cows? From the wary look in his eyes, Chelsea thought his concern lay elsewhere. With the stranger. Why?

  He glanced at Chelsea again.

  “I can make it back on my own, Garrett. You don’t have to–”

  “No. Not alone.” His forefinger lazily brushed her cheek, and she wondered if there was a bruise forming there already. It felt as if there was. “I’ll take you back.”

  He went over to Wes, who stood a bit away from the rest of them, just watching them all with those sharp, probing black eyes of his. Wes inclined his head as Garrett spoke softly. Then nodded. Lash, meanwhile, had ridden over to Elliot and was conversing with him. The slip of paper blew closer to Chelsea’s feet, and she bent to pick it up, turning toward the stranger.

  But Garrett came back to her at that moment, and without warning, he put his arms around her and scooped her right off her feet. He settled her in Duke’s saddle, then swung up behind her. One arm came snugly around, her waist. He touched the stallion’s sides, and the horse took off at a brisk walk, back the way they’d come. Chelsea si
ghed in resignation and glanced at the name and address on the scrap of paper before stuffing it into her jeans pocket and vowing to return it to its owner later on.

  Cattle did not stand around chewing peacefully one minute, then stampede the next. Garrett knew that. He’d only witnessed one stampede in his life and he’d been in the ranching business forever. It was rare. It didn’t just happen.

  Something had spooked those cattle. And spooked them in the direction he and Chelsea had taken. Garrett couldn’t convince himself it was a coincidence. Especially after that odd phone call last night. And that the appearance of this stranger–this Lash–at the same time could just be happenstance was too much to swallow.

  Somebody wanted Chelsea Brennan dead. The voice on the phone had identified that somebody as Vincent de Lorean, a man as evil as Satan himself. And then she’d nearly been trampled to death. All within twenty-four hours.

  No way could he have let her return to the house alone. And he couldn’t trust her safety to his brothers. He had to see to it himself. Much as he disliked leaving Elliot and Wes out there with a stranger who might or might not be involved in all this, he’d had little choice. So he’d warned Wes about his suspicions. Wes could handle himself. Hell, Wes could handle himself and any six fighting men. He’d be all right.

  Duke gave a little leap when he came out of the stream and started up the slight incline of the bank. Chelsea’s bottom bounced down on the saddle, and she gave a little squeak of pain. Dammit, she was hurt, much as she might deny it.

  “Don’t sit so stiff,” he instructed. “Just relax against me, and it won’t hurt so much.” He punctuated his advice by pulling her back closer to his chest. Her buttocks rocked between his legs, rubbing him in all the right places. Dammit, he should have left well enough alone.

  No, he shouldn’t. She leaned her head back against him. Oh, did he like that. He opened his palm on her belly. His hand itched to creep up higher. To cup her soft breasts, and squeeze them. His lips itched to kiss her. Her smooth-skinned neck was looking more tempting with every step Duke took.

  “Why were you so suspicious of that man?” she asked softly.

  Garrett clenched his jaw. He hadn’t meant to be so obvious. The last thing he wanted was for her to think that the stampede had been an attempt on her life. He was afraid that knowledge would send her running scared. And if she ran, how the hell could he protect her?

  “I don’t like strangers nosing around,” he tried.

  “You took me in. Let me stay. I’m a stranger.”

  Garrett never had been any good at subterfuge. “You’re a sight prettier than Lash is.”

  “Be honest with me, Garrett.” As she said it, she turned her head so she could look up into his eyes. Her green ones searched and dug into his. Into his heart, too.

  “I am being honest. You really are prettier.”

  She frowned at him.

  “Okay,” he said slowly, wondering how little he could get away with revealing. “We want it kept quiet that you’re here, right? Why broadcast it to some drifter?”

  She nodded, licked her lips. He ached to do the same. “So you really think Ethan’s father will come after him if he finds out where we are?”

  “He might. But–” Garrett cut himself off in mid-sentence as he was sharply, painfully reminded of Vincent de Lorean’s other objective. His son. And Bubba was currently alone in the house with Jessi.

  He tightened his grip on Chelsea. “Sorry about this, darlin’. Hold on.” He kicked Duke’s sides, and the horse obeyed instantly, beginning to gallop at a speed Garrett hoped wouldn’t send more spasms of pain through Chelsea’s slender, bruised body.

  When he jumped off Duke’s back and ran up the front steps, leaving Chelsea sitting alone on a horse the size of a small elephant, she mentally cussed him.

  But he only made it as far as the screen door. One look inside and his frown lines eased into a smile. “Everything okay here, Jessi?”

  “Sure. Fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “No reason.” Garrett turned around, smiling. But his smile died when he saw Chelsea glaring at him from the saddle. “Sorry,” he muttered, and came back to her, put his hands on her waist and lifted her down.

  She shook her head. “You’re crazy, Garrett Brand. What were you trying to do, making that mastodon run with me on his back? Kill me?’’

  “Course not. Hey, I just got worried about Jess and Bubba, is all.”

  “His name is Ethan, you big lug.”

  He opened his mouth.

  “And why would you suddenly get so worried that you had to race all the way back here and scramble my insides in the process?” She poked him with a forefinger. “You are keeping something from me. Something about that stampede, and that stranger, and–”

  “Stampede?” The screen door squeaked and Jessi stepped outside, Ethan anchored on her hip. “What stampede?”

  “The one that almost killed us,” Chelsea replied, still glaring at Garrett.

  “Now, it wasn’t that bad. Don’t look like that, Jessi. Everything’s fine. No one was hurt.”

  Jessi’s gaze dipped to Garrett’s torn and bloodied shirtsleeve. “Liar. Look at you! And you, too, Chelsea! What in all hell happened out there?”

  “Watch your mouth,” Garrett told her.

  “I will not watch my mouth.” She pouted, then shook her head. “Ah, get in here, both of you, and let me have a look. And while I’m looking, Garrett Ethan Brand, you better tell me what this is all about!” She spun around and slammed back into the house.

  Chelsea took the first step, but Garrett gripped her shoulder gently, stopping her. “Wait.”

  She sighed, but turned to face him.

  “Before all that craziness out there, Chelsea…something was…happening…between you and me.”

  She lowered her head. Something had been happening. Something that had been dizzying and wonderful at the time. But in hindsight, it scared the hell out of her.

  “It’s just as well we were interrupted,” she whispered, but the words were coming hard.

  “I have to disagree with you there.”

  She forced her head up and tried to hold on to his gaze, but couldn’t. She had to look away again. “I’m not ready for anything like this. I don’t want anything like this.”

  “Like what? Hell, Chelsea, I’m still trying to figure out what this is.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t have happened, and it’s over. Let’s just forget about it.”

  “I’m not real sure I can do that. Forget it, I mean.” He searched her face, trying to smile, but it was bitter, and she thought maybe she’d hurt this big, gentle man.

  But she barely knew him, after all. His gentleness could fade as fast as the sun when a storm cloud rolls in. He could turn out to be as dangerous as her father had been. And she’d decided a long time ago that she would never trust any man long enough to find out. She would never fall in love. Besides, just because this man was physically attracted to her didn’t mean he felt anything for her, so she was way ahead of herself anyway.

  “It will be easier once Ethan and I are gone,” she said.

  His lips thinned. He seemed a little desperate and maybe at a loss for words. “I don’t….”

  “What?”

  He lowered his head. “I don’t want you to go, Chelsea.”

  She stared at him in surprise and more than a little confusion. What was he saying? He barely knew her, had only kissed her once, for God’s sake. Well, okay, twice. How could he stand there and say–

  “Will you two get in here already?” Jessi called.

  “What do you mean, you don’t want me to go? What do you want me to do, quit my job, give up my apartment and stay here? For a fling, Garrett? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I don’t do flings.”

  She turned away and marched up the steps and across the porch. But as she went, she heard his voice following her.

  “Neither do I, Chelsea Brennan. Neither do I
.”