Barbara Dunlop - A Cowboy in Manhattan

Mandy crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against a stall fence and lifting one heel to brace it on the bottom rail, while the mare nudged at her ear. “I guess not,” Mandy allowed, firmly pushing the horse’s head away.

Katrina gave a self-deprecating grimace. “I can’t even boss around five-foot-two male ballet dancers.”

Mandy laughed at that. “I really could teach you.”

“To boss my ballet partners around?”

“To ride horses.”

Katrina took an involuntary step backward. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s easy.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t want to learn how.”

“But-”

“I’m only going to be here for a week, and there aren’t a lot of horses in New York City.”

Mandy’s eyes narrowed. “But you’ll come back, though, especially once Dad’s home.”

Katrina felt a familiar knot form in her stomach. Maybe it was because she’d left home so young and she didn’t really know her father. Or maybe it was because she’d always sensed his disappointment in her. But the thought of being in the same room, of coming under his scrutiny, of dealing with the walking-on-eggshells feeling she got whenever he looked her way, made her want to turn and run.

“Katrina?” Mandy prompted.

“My schedule’s pretty busy.”

“But you do get time off.”

“I do. But there are rehearsals. I’m doing a little teaching now.” Katrina turned and started walking, not wanting to face her sister while she stretched the truth.

Mandy followed her lead. “You really do hate it here, don’t you?”

“It’s…” Katrina struggled for the right words. “Intimidating.”

“I don’t see why.” Mandy urged Katrina down a side aisle.

“Of course you don’t. You’re like Ms. Super-Rancher.”

Mandy laughed while she pushed open a door, and the sunlight flooded through. “You make a bigger deal about everything than it has to be. You always have.”

“I do not.” Katrina stopped short, unease shooting through her.

They’d walked outside into a large, green field, fences in the far distance. It was dotted with horses, in ones and twos, heads down, grazing.

“I won’t let them get you,” Mandy assured her.

“I’m not in the mood for an intervention.” At her mother’s insistence, Katrina was here to touch base with her family. But she wasn’t here to conquer her fears and become a better human being.

“We’re just walking. It’s nicer out here than it is in the barn.”

“In the barn, they’re all behind fences.”

“If they attack, I’ll throw myself in front of you.”

“Funny.” Mandy might be taller and heavier than Katrina, but it was still a hundred-odd pounds against two-thousand. If a horse went rogue, Mandy wouldn’t be able to save her.

Mandy turned so they were headed along the fence line, and Katrina felt a little better. At least there was a handy escape route if they needed one.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Reed?”

Katrina stumbled on a clump of grass. “Huh?”

“Everything was fine last night.”

“Everything was fine this morning, too.”

Mandy crammed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “I know Reed very well. We were like brother and sister for the ten years Caleb was away. He’s mad at you, and I’d like to know why.”

Katrina shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“He won’t answer.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know.”

Mandy shook her head. “What makes you think you can start lying to me now?”

“Practice.”

“Katrina. Seriously. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know you.”

Katrina counted to ten inside her head. She knew she should say something innocuous and noncommittal, brushing off the comment and moving on. But some obstinate corner of her brain compelled her to speak up. “Maybe it’s because you don’t.”

Mandy stopped dead. “What?”

Katrina knew it was past time to shut up. Unfortunately, her mouth didn’t seem to get the message. “Travis says you all love me.”

“We do.”

“You don’t even know me. You don’t know I’m afraid of horses. You don’t know I’m afraid of chickens. You don’t know I’m afraid of Dad.”

Mandy drew back in obvious shock. “Dad?”

Katrina’s mouth seemed to be on autopilot. “And you have absolutely no idea that I’m afraid my ankle won’t heal properly and that my dancing career will be over.”

Mandy immediately reached for Katrina’s hands, drawing her close, searching her expression. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? What’s wrong with your ankle?”

“It’s nothing,” said Katrina.

“What is it?” Mandy insisted.

Katrina waved a dismissive hand. “I had one of my pointe shoes give out, and I twisted my ankle.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone.”

“They’ll want to know you’re hurt,” Mandy insisted. “They’ll want to help.”

“There’s nothing they can do. I just need some rest, to let it heal.”

“It was your shoe? Does this kind of thing happen often?”

“Hardly ever. Thank goodness.” Katrina was having an unlucky streak, and she was going to get past it. Her ankle would heal. She should never have admitted out loud that she was worried. She wasn’t. Not really.

She drew a bracing breath. “Mandy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything. I don’t know what I was thinking-”

“I’m not the least bit sorry.” Mandy tugged firmly on her sister’s hands. “I want to know you, Katrina. No matter what’s going on inside that crazy head of yours, we all do love you.”

“I’m not crazy.” Just because she didn’t like ranching, didn’t make her insane.

“Bad choice of words.”

Suddenly, Katrina felt dead-tired. She didn’t want to have this debate. It was bad enough that Quentin was out to get her and that her career might be hanging in the balance; she didn’t need to add her childhood baggage to the mix.

“Do you think someone could drive me back to our place?” She’d make an excuse to catch a flight in the morning.

Mandy gave her head a vigorous shake. “Not a chance. Now that we’ve broken the ice, we are going to talk, young lady.” She tucked Katrina’s hand into the crook of her arm and began walking again.

Katrina scoffed out an exclamation of disbelief. “I don’t think so.” It was a momentary lapse, not the breaking of an emotional dam ten years in the making.

“So, what happened with Reed?” Mandy repeated.

“Nothing.”

“I think he likes you.”

“I think he hates me.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re afraid of chickens, so I’m not much for trusting your judgment.”

“I really want to go home.” Katrina sighed.

“If by home, you mean Caleb and Reed’s house for margaritas, then that’s exactly where we’re going.”

“I can’t drink margaritas. I’ll get fat.”

“Oh, yes, you can. We’ll burn off the calories somehow. But you, my darling, are in serious need of a stiff drink and a big sister.”

“Your sister claims I’ve upset you.” Reed’s voice interrupted Katrina in what she guessed was her thirteenth mile on the makeshift stationary bike, burning off the four giant golden margaritas from this afternoon. She and Mandy hadn’t exactly had a full-on heart-to-heart, but they’d definitely broken the ice.

The sun was going down now, but Katrina was still feeling a little tipsy. The barn had grown quiet while she rode, with only the occasional whinny punctuating the steady whirr of her bike wheel.

“I’m not upset.” She reached for the plastic water bottle in the wire holder on the bike frame, popping the top and squirting some of the tepid liquid into her mouth.