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Rita Hestand author
Rita Hestand Author
Category:
Western
Publisher: Self Published
ISBN-10: 1449903096
Pages: 240
Copyright: Nov 20, 2009
ISBN-13: 9781449903091
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
A short contemporary romance novel. A sensual romance. Candy Arnold inherits a broken down ranch in the Panhandle of Texas from her father. Since she's really never had a home she and her Uncle Roscoe decide to check it out. Even after her ex-husband advised her to sell. Her life's been in danger by a mad bull, a gunshot and her trailer stolen. Who could want her off her land? And why?
Candy Arnold inherits a broken down ranch in the Panhandle of Texas from her dead father. Since she's never had a real home, she and her Uncle Roscoe decide to check it out. But things start happening to Candy before she gets to the prooperty and they continue once she is there. She had a mad bull turned loose on her, a gun fired at her, and now her trailer is stolen. Candy doesn't know who she can trust anymore.
Her ex-husband tries to presuade her to sell the land, her sexy neighbor wants to buy it. But Joe Munroe seems to want more than just her land, he wants Candy...can she trust him? Or is it just a coincidence that he's been around every time something happens.
Excerpt
"Come on Lancer, let's show them how it's done, baby," Candy Arnold said with a big smile.
The roaring of the crowd rang like a gong. Sheer excitement keyed the air. Beneath her the horse moved with an exact sameness. Softly ploughed dirt scattered under Lancer's hoofs, as trick rider and beast attuned themselves.
Not bad. Candy responded with another flashing smile as the crowd cheered her on. She circled the arena as she maneuvered for the running trick mounts. Timing was ultra-critical. Lancer sprang into action upon her signals. Half way through the next trick, as she whirled about the horse like an acrobat, there was another roar of cheers and whistles. Candy felt her confidence soar.
She sensed the danger instantly, but it was too late to do anything about it. She felt Lancer's head going down too soon. The turn was too wide. The horse stumbled and faltered, sending her careening to the ground, face first. She gritted her teeth and, strangely enough, she could hear the breath rush from her lungs. Stunned, she lay immobile. Where was Lancer?
A black void threatened to overcome her but she fought it back. Had the crowd hushed or had she lost her hearing, too? Trying to regain her composure, she opened her eyes and locked gazes with the meanest, angriest bull she had ever seen--only a few yards away.
Obviously, it looked good to the crowd; they roared with blind excitement. They didn't know it, but this wasn't part of her act, and Candy was terrified.
White-hot fear shot through her.
Was this the end? Was that mad, drooling, over-grown bulldozer going to be her demise? At least it was a befitting death, she mused, as her body refused to move.
The rodeo clowns sprang into action, but the bull wasn't interested in their antics. No--he had something else on his mind. One familiar clown worked diligently to distract him. It didn't work. The bull gave an angry snort, and then fastened his blood-red eyes on Candy. One of his hoof's dug a short path deeper and deeper into the soft ploughed ground.
Once more the crowd fell silent.
Candy's eyes widened; sweat trickled between her breasts. She was welded to the soft earth. Fear surged through her in ripples of awareness, like a movie reel suddenly gone bad.
They called the bull White Demon, and for good reason. Candy gulped back a sob.
Come on, get it over with, her mind cried as she closed her eyes. She smelled the good, clean earth one last time; she felt her heart hammer against her chest. She gritted her teeth.
Then, from out of nowhere a horse and rider sped swiftly to her aid.
She heard a richly hypnotic voice command the dog. "Hold 'em Butch."
Candy opened her eyes. A shadow appeared before her, and for a moment she didn't move. Was this real? No, things like that only happened in the movies. Wishful thinking. It was all just a dream. Wasn't it? Of course she was dreaming. That's why none of this seemed real.
The question went unanswered when suddenly a comforting arm reached down to grab and pull her to the safety of a softly worn saddle. Candy's arms locked about a lean, hard waist as the mysterious horse and rider galloped hastily for the protective gates. Once back on safe ground, the man who saved her glanced down into her face. His eyes were shadowed by his hat. "You okay, sweetheart?"
"I…I think so."
She was shaking, feeling as though every bone in her body had gone to mush, but she managed a bright smile for the crowd as she waved at them.
She never got the chance to convey her thanks. The cowboy abruptly took his leave.
Candy leaned against the gate for a moment. Her hands trembled as she grabbed the rail for support. It wasn't a dream or a nightmare, this was real.
Laughter peeled through the air as the clowns made a monkey out of the perturbed bull.
Candy glanced about and saw her Uncle Roscoe leading Lancer to the back pasture. Lancer must be as shaken as she. She'd check on him as soon as her legs would carry her. For the moment, she just couldn't go anywhere. She had to stop shaking first.
Her mysterious hero was the first rider in the bull-riding event. The crowd cheered so loudly for him she couldn't hear his name being announced. Funny, but she couldn't recall him. And she was sure she would have remembered those oh so blue eyes! It was the only thing she got a good look at; startling blue eyes staring at her through the shadows of his hat.
Perching barefoot on the railing she watched his ride. From the moment the chute opened, she knew he was in control of the animal. He sat the bull as though he were made for just such a purpose. His moves were calculated and smooth; he'd get a high score, no doubt about that. The man could ride. His hat bounced off, and his thick, black hair flounced in the evening air.
"Wow!"
But where had he come from? He certainly wasn't a regular. And more importantly, how was she going to go about thanking him without looking too eager?
The buzzer rang. His score was the highest she'd heard of this season. The crowd got louder. A real champion stood in their midst and they knew it. This was no drugstore cowboy; he was the Real McCoy and the audience was eating him up.
Curious about him, she followed him through the crowd after his ride, until he disappeared behind the chutes. She hurried along, not wanting to lose sight of him. But several friends stopped her along the way to inquire about the accident and inform her that her Uncle had already checked Lancer. She brushed the accident aside for the moment, ignoring the fact that she was a little dizzy.
She finally caught sight of her hero again heading for the pasture out back. She waited until he bent to untie his chaps before she approached him. Gently, she tugged at his shirtsleeve. Hard, rippling muscles flexed against her fingertips. He whipped about in surprise.
"Hi."
She could have sworn he was taller, but she could almost meet him eye to eye. And what a meeting! Never had she seen such probing eyes. He looked like something out of a romance novel. Handsome didn't quite describe this man! He literally took her breath away, lean, hard-muscled, broad-shouldered, and narrow-hipped. He personified the word "cowboy".
"I wanted to thank you for the help out there--"
He gave her a slight nod. "That was a pretty nasty fall you took. Are you feeling okay?" His voice was laced with genuine concern as his gaze searched her face.
"I'm fine," she replied, watching him adjust his hat so it rode in a more familiar place. She liked the way he wore his hair, high and straight, waving where his hat brim rode. She stared at him a little too long and he gave her a slight lopsided grin.
"Don't I know you from somewhere?" she asked when a flash of familiarity flirted her memory.
He paused for a moment, blinked long ebony lashes against a shadowed cheekbone, then boldly met her gaze. "That's not a very original line, but it's possible."
He thought she was she flirting? Trying to be cute? His arrogance made her temper flare, yet the overwhelming need to be grateful simmered her down.
"I wasn't trying to be cute. I simply thought I recognized you. I know most…"
"Lady," he interrupted her as he tipped his hat to her and winked, "You don't have to try being cute, you've got that one already sewn up. And, like I said, it's possible. Especially since I'm your dad's neighbor."
"My… dad's?" She recoiled, deliberately ignoring the compliment he had thrown her.
"That's right, my land borders his. He bought the old Thompson place a few years ago, didn't he?"
"That's right," she said, trying to assimilate the news and place him at the same time.
Silhouetted by the fast setting sun, he looked taller, leaner, his silhouette was breathtaking. She hadn't meant to notice the wide shoulders and tapering hips, but he lent such a shadow. He was quite a hero, after all.
"You're Joe Munroe?" The name seemed only waiting to be pronounced. She vaguely remembered her father mentioning him, but couldn't recall what he had said about the man.
"Yes ma'am," he replied, tipping his hat again, this time not looking directly at her, but illuminating a strong profile.
It nettled her to admit it, but the man was overly endowed with his share of good looks. She didn't judge a man by looks alone, though. Candy prided herself in not falling prey to every good-looking cowboy who came along. Probably another Romeo cowboy, she reasoned. Candy couldn't remember when she'd been so intrigued, though. There was something compelling about him that seemed to draw her full attention. And that voice could placate White Demon.
Okay, she'd give him that; he was cute. No reason for her heart to flutter, no reason at all. She didn't want it to flutter. She didn't want to notice all the little things about this man, but they sort of jumped out at her. He had the whitest teeth and the sexiest crooked smile she had encountered in a long time. Just a turn of a corner of that nicely firmed mouth sent a tremor through her.
She had lost her mind, she decided grimly. Must have been the fall...
Why, she was practically drooling.
Yet, as compelling as his looks were, it was the soft quality of his voice that sent Candy's pulse soaring every time he opened that mobile mouth. Soft and sincere, and his voice filled with a strange kind of honesty and concern.
Candy no longer believed in heroes. The man was just a little too good to be true. There had to be something wrong with him, somewhere.
"Well," she groped for something to say, knowing she had spent too long openly admiring him. Men usually had big enough egos without giving them something to chomp on. She half turned away. "Thanks again, Mr. Munroe."
"Joe," he quickly amended. "Your horse has a puncture wound, that's why he didn't make that turn."
"What?" Quirking a brow curiously, she whipped about again to face him.
"Your horse has some kind of puncture wound. That's why he's wearing a horse boot now. But that bull, that's another story. Someone let him loose in the arena. That should never have happened. He was enclosed in a chute. White Demon is one of the meanest bulls they have. That was no accident."
Candy's eyes widened. She hadn't given Lancer a moment's worry since the accident. But the bull...she could still see those eyes turning blood red, and hear the stomping of that hoof. She usually didn't act so scattered, but the fall must have shaken her more than she cared to admit.
"Someone intentionally did this? Is that what you are trying to say?"
"Not trying, I'm saying, someone let that bull loose. Your Uncle and I both thought so. The horse will mend, but you might not have."
He removed his saddle from the platform of the trailer and took it inside.
When had he talked to her Uncle? When had he had the time? That fall must have done things to her; she was downright fuzzy in her thinking.
"You think someone…?"
He ignored her, gathering his gear and stowing it, then guiding his bay inside the trailer. She hung her head, her bare toe making a shape in the loose dirt. She didn't like what this cowboy was suggesting, but she couldn't ignore her own conclusion about that bull.
He moved to stand in front of her, then with barely a touch of his finger he lifted her chin and smiled into her face. His touch electrified her awareness of him. She didn't want to be electrified, but darn if she could stop herself.
She held her breath.
"I wouldn't worry. It looks like someone wants to scare you more than anything," he said.
"Scare me?" she barely managed. "But why? I don't believe it."
"Suit yourself." He shrugged negligently and moved away.
"You must be mistaken. I mean--who?"
"Maybe I'm wrong. Hope so."
She couldn't think straight. The man had an irritating way of knocking all sensible thoughts from her mind. "You knew my father, didn't you?"
He shot her a curious glance over his shoulder, then smiled that sexy grin. "Yes ma'am. I was sorry to hear about him, too. He was quite a character."
His voice trailed away when he looked at her again. It was almost as though he sensed that inner pain she held on to so tightly. His intrusion into her private emotions wasn't welcome.
She had tried not to think about her father's untimely death. But the mere mention of him had her stomach rolling. Death was not a commodity to be dealt with as far as Candy was concerned. It was much too permanent.
"Thank you."
"I liked him." Joe offered almost as an apology, then turned away and checked his tack. "Didn't agree with him on a lot of things, but he was a very likable man."
When she followed him, facing him each time he turned, he glanced at her once more. "I'm glad you're all right, Candy."
His voice mesmerized her. Still, the man was a puzzle and she didn't like puzzles!
"Goodnight, Joe Munroe," she said, and she willed her legs to carry her away from his disturbing presence. It was like pulling metal from a magnet, as though some dark force wanted her to stay and hear more.
It went beyond comprehension why a stranger should have such an effect on her. She blamed it on the heroic deed. He had quite literally saved her from a near death. What girl in her right mind wouldn't be impressed?
She headed for the back pasture, and whistled for Lancer, then crossed the barbed fence when Lancer trotted toward her. She bent to check his leg immediately. She gently unwrapped it and examined the puncture wound. Wanting to refute the accusation that the bull had been turned loose on purpose, she couldn't. It was no accident! This particular bull would have been pinned no matter what. The fact that it wasn't did seem calculated, like Joe Munroe said. Probably done by some professional that knew what he was doing.
But who? And why? Candy looked about, as though expecting the culprit to materialize.
Dusting her buckskin outfit, she listened to the announcer. "Well that about wraps it up once more, folks. Hope you all enjoyed another Friday night at the rodeo, and y'all come back. How about a generous hand for all our contestants? After all, some won't get much else."
She glanced toward the arena as she neared the end of the chutes. She didn't see her moccasins anywhere.
One of the clowns sauntered up to her. "Sorry I didn't do too well tonight. White Demon could have had you for supper. I just couldn't distract him."
"It worked out okay, don't fret about it." Candy eyed her Uncle seriously, knowing he was feeling guilty about something that was not his fault.
"Looks like Lancer's gonna have to take it easy for a bit. But don't worry, honey, we got that boot on him fast and he'll mend just fine. So how about you, are you all right?"
Knowing her Uncle Roscoe's concern was genuine, she smiled. He didn't mention the bull being turned loose, so she didn't either. "I'm fine. I'll get old Doc to take a look at Lancer. Have you seen my mocs?"
He snickered as he pulled a small tobacco bag from his hip pocket. "Reckon I seen Doug with them a while ago."
"Oh!" Candy's head jerked. "Where is he?"
"Behind the ticket stand, as usual, signing autographs for those silly, little teenagers," Roscoe answered.
Candy started to head for the ticket booth but her Uncle's words stopped her.
"That was pretty quick thinking on that Munroe fella's part, jumping in front of that bull like he did."
"Yes." Irritation lined her voice. "I know. I've just come from thanking him. Do you know him?"
"Not well, but I thanked him a couple of times myself. Never in all my rodeoing days have I ever seen anything quite like what he did." Roscoe's grin widened. "But I met him some time ago. In fact, your dad introduced us. You see, I used to run with his folks down on the Pecos. Good people, those Munroe's. Give you the shirt off their backs. 'Course any man who saves my niece's neck is okay in my books."
"What do you know about him?"
He scratched his chin, rubbing the make-up off with his fingers, and then dusting it off on his pants leg.
"Well, not a lot, I guess. He seems pretty up and up to me. First time I seen him ride, though. Damn sure can sit a bull, cain't he? I know his kind. He's a stubborn one. I know that. He knows his own mind. As I recall, he plans to bring the Texas Longhorns back to the range. Sounds a little peculiar, I'll admit, but if it can be done, he'll be the one to do it."
"But Longhorns?" She laughed. "Why on earth would anyone want to bring them back?" As soon as the question was out of her mouth, she regretted it. She saw the displeasure on her Uncle's face.
"I'll admit it sounds like a might peculiar notion. But some say it has its possibilities. According to Joe, there's a place in Oklahoma that breeds them, some kind of government project. And it has some points in its favor. They are cheaper to raise and feed, and much easier to care for. They can live on nothing but the fat of the land. Have you ever seen a white-faced that could take care of itself during the dead of winter?"
"No, but--"
"I reckon it's a right romantic notion," he said with a slight chuckle.
"To each his own." She shrugged her shoulders.
"By the way, are you going into town tomorrow?"
"I'd planned to. Why? Wanna come with me?"
"Nah, I don't think that's too good an idea. I never cottoned to Fargate much myself."
"I think I can understand that. I wish dad had left his will with Mr. Peabody. It certainly would have been easier. But you know dad, he wouldn't give up hope."
"What you gonna do about the ranch?" Roscoe asked, his curiosity aroused.
"I don't know. I hadn't given it much thought. I'm not even sure I own it. If it's got a clear title I'll probably take a look at it before I sell."
"Your mind made up to sell then?"
"No, not really…why?"
"I've been thinking." He scratched his head and eyed her. "I'm getting too old for this clown business. I need to settle my bones somewhere. And you're gonna need someone to help you run things. Someone you can trust to see it's done right. I think I'm the one for the job if you're interested in a broken down ole rodeo clown like me, that is."
"Interested?" she wailed and grabbed his hand in hers. "Oh, Uncle Roscoe, I'd love it. Do you honestly think we could make a go of it? It's always been my dream to have a place of my own. I never had much of one with dad. But do you think we could? I mean, the last I remember it was a real dump."
"Maybe it is, but hard work never hurt nobody."
She reached up and kissed his cheek, then smiled and headed for the ticket booth, calling over her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow and we'll talk."
He waved and smiled.
It didn't take long to find Doug Chapman. He was smack in the middle of a passel of women.
"Using my mocs, Doug?" Candy called from a safe distance.
Doug's' head reared. "Candy," he said and smiled broadly, exhibiting a set of bright, white teeth. "Sorry about your ride, honey. Tough luck. Maybe next time. Come over here. I've got your mocs."
"Throw them to me, will you?"
"Come and get 'em, honey."
A tall, willowy blonde sashayed up to Doug, purring at him. Doug smiled at her, and bent to touch his lips to hers. He cast Candy a teasing grin. What a flirt.
Shaped like a quarterback, Doug was monolithic. It was a wonder his legs didn't drag the ground when he rode. Women flocked at his heels, and it had nothing to do with his rodeoing. Drat the man for enjoying his advantage so much.
Candy edged nearer.
"I'll give you your mocs," Doug said, "if you'll have dinner with me tomorrow night."
"Dinner?"
"Sure, gotta celebrate my winning 'All Around Cowboy' don't I?" He grinned.
"Okay. Now can I have my mocs?"
Her mocs were dangling from his belt loop. "Not 'til you come and get them."
She made a quick frown and moved closer. "Give it here, Doug."
"Sure, honey, but first," he bent the distance to touch his lips to hers as she approached him from the side. She tried to respond, but despite his mastery at kissing, her eyes flew open. The kiss was destroyed as she caught sight of Joe Munroe in the crowd of onlookers. There was a scowl on his handsome face as he watched her display.
What was his problem?
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