Linda Ford - Winning Over the Wrangler

No. She would not say that his arms made one feel safe and secure. She wouldn’t even let herself believe it. This man spelled danger to her fragile heart.

But he wasn’t staying around, so she didn’t have to be concerned. All she had to do was write the story.

She glanced about. Strange that all the hands seemed to have gathered at the corrals this morning. Or perhaps not. Brand would finish up before long and no doubt they all wanted one last glimpse of this legend.

“That’s his last horse,” one of the men murmured.

“Or so he thinks,” replied another, with a soft chuckle accompanying his words.

Sybil’s attention kicked into full alert. “What does that mean?” she asked the second man.

He gave a wicked grin. “We found another unbroken horse.”

Several of the men snickered and nudged each other.

Something about the way they acted warned her they were up to no good. Her nerves twitched with a mixture of anticipation and concern.

Brand rode the horse he was on to a standstill, then spent several minutes riding the animal around the pen, teaching it to obey the reins and the instructions signaled by the rider’s legs.

“That does it.” He swung from the saddle and hung a rope over the nearest post. His eyes touched her, making her forget momentarily that they were surrounded by a horde of cowboys.

He shifted his gaze around the circle.

“Where can I find Eddie?” he asked.

Sybil glanced at the assembled crew. Odd that Eddie wasn’t with them. Nor the foreman or any of the other cowboys she was familiar with.

Cal answered Brand. “Boss got called away to tend a bull.”

“When he returns, tell him he can find me at my campsite.” Brand headed for the gate.

“Hang on. There’s one more horse to go.”

Sybil felt the tension radiating from the cowboys. It trickled up her spine, caused her to curl her fingers until the nails bit into her palm.

Brand stopped, studied the circle of cowboys. “There wasn’t another this morning.”

Cal chortled. “We found this one ’specially for you.”

Only because she watched so carefully did Sybil see the way Brand’s shoulders tensed and his breathing paused for a second. Then he emptied his lungs in a slow sigh.

“Special for me, you say? Let me guess. This horse is meaner than a twister, ain’t never been rode, and has been known to bite, kick and generally let people know he don’t intend to be.”

Cal’s laugh seemed a little strained despite his obvious glee. “Let’s see if you can live up to your reputation. Or are ya scared to get on this horse?”

Brand tipped his hat back and slowly shifted his gaze from cowboy to cowboy. Several of them squirmed.

Then his gaze fell on her. His eyes—the color of warm chocolate—filled with resignation and a loneliness he would no doubt deny, but she felt it clear through to the bottom of her heart. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.

Acknowledgment flickered through his eyes, though he couldn’t have heard her. Something shifted in his demeanor. It was as if her inaudible words encouraged him, let him know that not everyone shared Cal’s wish to see him tossed into the dust.

“Bring him on.” Brand jerked his hat down low, widened his stance and waited.

Three men pulled on ropes to drag in a black horse with white-rimmed eyes. The animal snorted and kicked.

Sybil held her breath.

Again, she whispered, “You don’t have to do this.”

But Brand never noticed.

Every eye was on that wild stallion. Every man held his breath.

“Throw on a saddle if you can.” Brand’s voice dared them to fail.

It took an additional two men to get a saddle blanket on the horse and then the saddle. One of them came away limping after a kick from the angry animal.

“Hold him while I get seated.” Brand spoke calmly, as if the only uncertainty was the ability of the struggling cowboys to do so.

Sybil’s chest hurt from holding her breath as she watched him gingerly arrange himself in the saddle.

“Let him go.”

The cowboys released their ropes and raced away, throwing themselves over the fence, then scrambling around to watch the show.

Sybil could not tear her gaze from the big man on the horse. He sat poised and ready. At first the horse simply stood quivering, then it erupted into frenzied movement. It seemed to jerk every which way at the same time. She’d watched Brand buck out a number of horses over the past two days, but nothing like this. Hooves flying toward the sky. Back twisting two different directions at the same time. Head down. Snorting. Blowing. But Brand clung to the gyrating animal.

“He’s good,” said the cowboy on Sybil’s right.

“He ain’t done yet,” Cal answered, disappointment in his tone.

Then the horse stopped. It stood there quivering.

A murmur of approval circled the crowd.

“He did it,” Sybil said.

“Don’t think so, not yet.”

And then the animal turned and tried to bite its rider. As Brand kicked away from the teeth, the horse suddenly started to buck again.

Brand fought to stay in the saddle.

The horse ran for the fence, ramming him against the boards.

Several cowboys groaned. “That’s got to hurt,” said one. “Be a wonder if his leg ain’t broke.”

The horse stampeded along the fence, several times banging Brand’s leg into the boards. It bucked. It snorted.

Still he stayed on board.

And Sybil’s heart swelled with pride in the man’s accomplishments. Brand was far more than a campfire legend. He was the real deal. He could ride. He was a man who stuck to his decisions.

Now, where did that last thought come from? She knew nothing of his actions outside this corral.

And the feel of his arms about you as he swept you off your feet.

Nonsense. It didn’t mean that much. Just that he’d saved her life and now she felt a special bond, as if she mattered to him.

Huh. I wonder if he even remembers your name.

She silenced the inner voice.

The animal trying to toss Brand to the ground finally wearied and stopped bucking.

“I’d say his reputation is well earned,” Sybil said, loudly enough for several of the cowboys to hear. This story would be the best one she’d ever written.

Never once did he reveal a hint of fear as he swung into the saddle. Those watching caught a collective breath and held it, wondering who would win this contest between man and beast.

Two men jumped forward and took the horse.

Brand slipped off, leaning against the fence.

The cowboys clapped and cheered as he limped away, none louder than Sybil. Without turning, Brand waved his hand in acknowledgment. “Tell the boss he knows where to find me.” He made his way across the yard and into the trees toward his campsite.

Sybil watched him leave. He had been hurt, though he hid it admirably.

At that moment, Eddie rode into the midst of the men. “I didn’t find any bull needing help.”

“Must have been mistaken,” Cal murmured.

Eddie glanced around the group, studied the horse now turned into the bigger corral. Several of the men tried to slip away unnoticed. “Wait up.”

They ground to a halt.

“Anyone care to tell me what’s going on?” Eddie leaned over the saddle horn, looking casual and relaxed. But Sybil certainly wasn’t fooled by his posture, and she guessed from the shuffling of booted feet that the cowboys weren’t, either.

Slim sat on a horse at the boss’s side and looked about ready to give them all a good chewing out.

Eddie’s gaze settled on Cal. “You sent me on a wild-goose chase. I’d like to know why. And why is that stallion in the corrals? Haven’t I told you all to leave him alone? He’s a man killer.”