Kathleen Eagle - Cool Hand Hank / A Cowboy's Redemption - Cool Hand Hank / A Cowboy's Redemption

“Baby!”

Sally bolted for the door, but she fell flat on her face before she got there. Tripped over her own feet like one of the TV comedians she’d claimed she always had time for. She was doing a shaky push-up on the concrete by the time Hank got to her. She tried to wave him off, her attention fixed on the dogs.

Hoolie came on strong once he had his crutch in place. “Here, you dogs, you want a piece o’ me?”

The clamor settled into a war of whines, both bitches determined to get in the last whimper as Hoolie and his crutch prevailed.

Hank found himself down on one knee beside a woman who was on her way up. “You okay?”

“Yes! Yes, of course.” She laughed as she braced her hand on his shoulder. “Totally wasn’t ready for that. Scared me.”

“They’re okay,” Hoolie called out. “Phoebe wants to play. Baby wants to lay down a few rules first.”

“I’ll give ‘em some rules,” Hank grumbled, discomfited by the loss of his dignity and his own confusion as to where it had gone.

Sally laughed again. “What are you, the Dog Whisperer?”

“I’m the alpha.” He signaled Phoebe to stay put while the shepherd took a fallback position. “You got any other dogs around here?” he asked Sally.

“Baby’s an only dog.”

“That’s her problem. We’ll fix it, though. We’ll teach her some manners. Won’t we, Phoeb?” Hank patted the dog’s silky head. “Scared you, huh?”

“It sure startled me.” Sally twisted her arm for a look at her skinned elbow. “I didn’t want to lose you over a dogfight. You’ve probably noticed I can be kind of a klutz sometimes. Two left feet.” She gave a perfunctory smile. “Except when I dance.”

“You stick to dancing and leave us to referee the dogs.”

“Only if you’ll dance with me, Henry.” She was giving him that too cute look. “Do you know that song? You’re supposed to say, Okay, Baby.”

Hank shook his head. “Nobody calls me Henry.”

“That’s your real name, isn’t it?” She flashed a smile at Hoolie. “Henry’s a fine name.”

“Nobody calls me Henry.”

“Ah, the soft underbelly. Our guardian is ticklish, Hoolie.”

“I know the feeling,” Hoolie said.

“I can handle a dogfight, but that name is a deal breaker.”

“Duly noted.” Sally slid a glance at Hoolie, who chuckled.

“Okay, now aren’t you supposed to have some wild horses around here somewhere?”

“That’s the rumor. But first, the tour.” She gave an after-you gesture. “Please follow the silk thread.”

Hank raised his brow and responded in kind. He knew her game. She was like his patients on the rodeo circuit—too stubborn to say they were hurt, so you didn’t ask. You watched how they moved. If they’d let you.

“No go?” She grabbed his arm and coaxed him by her side. “All right, then, when you’re ready to put your road-weary butt in a saddle, I’ll show you horses, Henry. Hank.”

“You’re askin’ for it, woman.”

“For what?” She met his loaded look with acoy smile. “Oh, no. I’m just hackin’ on you. Make no mistake, when it comes to serious matters, I don’t fool around.” She glanced away. “Well, I do, but I don’t ask. Do you?”

What he didn’t do was answer foolish questions.

By the time he’d seen the outbuildings—shop, machine shed, barn, loafing shed, grain bins, bunk house—the suggestion of food held considerable appeal. He was impressed with what he’d seen so far. It was a nice layout, but the cattle operation was a shadow of what it had been in its heyday, two generations ago. According to Hank’s tour guide, the Double D ran a small herd of cattle, partly to satisfy state requirements to claim agricultural status and partly for income. But the ranch’s main enterprise was the wild-horse sanctuary, and it was decidedly nonprofit. An unusual concept for a third-generation rancher, but Sally Drexler was an unusual rancher. Hank looked forward to seeing the horses.

After his stomach stopped growling.

He hit the front steps heavily to cover the noise as he headed for the door behind Sally, but the twinkle in her eyes let him know she wasn’t deaf. Embarrassing. He didn’t like to give anything away unintentionally. Not even the fact that he hadn’t taken time to eat anything before he left home.

Beset by the aroma of juicy beef, his stomach spoke up again as he followed her in the house while Phoebe protested having the door shut in her face.

“She can come in, as long as she’s okay around cats,” Sally said. “Sounds like she’s hungry. We usually don’t eat supper around here until pretty late, but we never keep the critters waiting.”

“Something smells good.” He stood like a maypole while Sally circled around him. “Enough to eat.” He watched her let Phoebe in. “Right now.”

She turned one of her bright-eyed smiles on him. “Right now?”

“Be glad to help you get it on.”

“Would you?”

“On the table.”

“I’ve always wanted to try that,” she told him over her shoulder as she led the way through foodless territory. “But let’s eat first.”

Willing as he was, he didn’t have to help much. He was a straight shooter, and she was a woman who loved to tease. She’d had supper simmering in a Crock-Pot, ready to dish up anytime. She put him to slicing bread and filling water glasses while she washed salad greens. Hoolie came in the back door all slicked down and washed up precisely at five-fifteen.

Pretty late, my ass.

Pretty tasty. Pretty entertaining. Pretty woman. Maybe he could get used to a little teasing.

“How much of the Double D can you reach on wheels?” Hank asked as he sipped his coffee. “You use ATVs?”

“Hell, no,” Hoolie said. “Too damn noisy. This is a ranch, not a playground.”

“I’m with you on that score.” And he’d told his brother as much last night when Greg had shown off a picture of the one he wanted. A kid’s toy, Hank had said.

“We can cover a lot of ground in a pickup, but there’s places we don’t go except on horseback.”

“We have some totally pristine grassland here,” Sally said. “Some of it is pretty remote.”

“I’ll stow my gear in the bunkhouse, and then maybe we could all take a little pickup ride,” Hank suggested. “Give me a feel for what’s out there while it’s still light.”

“We can do that.” Sally sounded hesitant. “But we have a room for you here in the house.”

“I’m fine with the bunkhouse.”

“We get kids out here sometimes helpin’ out. Volunteers come and go. You’ll be better off in the house.” Hoolie shrugged. “I snore.”

“We’re hoping to add on to the bunkhouse to give Hoolie more privacy.” Sally and Hoolie exchanged looks. “Definitely on the to-do list.”

“Definitely,” Hoolie said. “Sally’s used to having Annie around. And Zach, too, since he come along. We don’t want Sally rattlin’ around here alone at night.”

“She could get into trouble?” Hank set his cup down. “Hell, whatever works. I just figured…”

“It’s a big house,” Hoolie said. “And you’re a guest more than anything. I’m the hired man.”

Hank looked at Sally. He had something she wanted, and she’d decided it was hers for the taking. She’d try to tease it out of him, would she? He gave a suggestive smile. Game on, woman. Your house, my play.

“Do you snore?” he asked her.

“I’ve never had any complaints.”

Hoolie took Sally’s unspoken hint and begged off the after-supper tour. “I’ll let you take my pickup.” He offered Hank two keys and a metal Road Runner trinket on a key ring.