Six White Horses Read online

  "You wanted me to cry uncle and you know it!" she bit savagely, twisting away from his hand and stalking toward his blue truck.

  "I was paying you a compliment." Again a door was opened before Patty could reach it, this time the door of the truck.

  "Save them for the other girls who are bowled over by your potent male virility," she retorted. "Personally, I find it revolting!"

  Morgan walked around the truck, slamming the door as he slid behind the wheel. "Don't worry, Skinny." He turned the key in the ignition and the motor growled to life. "I'm not trying to compete with Lije or his memory for your favors."

  "His memory?" Involuntarily, Patty shuddered. "You make it sound as if he's dead."

  "For you, he is."

  Patty stared at the profile etched against the side window of the truck, the slanting forehead, the strong straight nose, the firm mouth and jutting chin. There was a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. As much as she hated to admit it, Morgan Kincaid was right.

  If she truly wanted to get over Lije, she had to bury the past, all her love, memories and dreams. They had been a part of her for so long, it would be like cutting off an arm or a leg. The question was did she want to let go of them and let Lije become only a long-time friend and neighbor?

  Sobered and frightened by the decision she discovered she had to make for her future, a troubled light entered her chocolate brown eyes. She had been living one day at a time. Now, thanks to Morgan, she was forced to look farther ahead.

  "Has the cat got your tongue?" Amusement teased the comers of the firm mouth.

  Blinking into the pair of eyes that didn't appear nearly as blue in the shadows, Patty realized the truck was stopped and the motor switched off. She glanced around in confused surprise, recognizing the rodeo grounds and the trailer they were parked beside. It seemed only just an instant ago that Morgan had turned the truck into the street outside the bar.

  The hint of a smile was gone from Morgan's face. "What's the matter, Pat?"

  "Nothing's the matter," she answered in a taut voice. "I was daydreaming, that's all."

  Frantically her hand searched for the door handle, needing to escape. The latch clicked and Patty started to push the door open. Morgan's arm reached around her. His hand found the armrest and pulled it shut. Her senses that had been deadened by the misery induced by her thoughts flamed to awareness.

  His fingers maintained their grip on the armrest while the hard muscles of his arm acted like an iron band across her breasts to keep her in her seat. The thin, synthetic material of her blouse transmitted his searing body heat to her soft flesh.

  "I accepted your ride home. Now will you please let me get out?"

  Tongues of charged lightning licked along her spine as she made her haughty demand.

  His rough, masculine face was close, narrowed blue eyes studying her features, focusing at last on the mutinous set of her lips. One side of his mouth quirked upward at the corner.

  "You aren't as skinny as I thought," Morgan commented blandly.

  Patty had tolerated the arm across her breasts because she hadn't wanted to draw attention to the uncomfortable intimacy of his touch. Foolishly, she thought he hadn't noticed. A bright glitter sparkled in his eyes as she tried to push him away.

  "I was only going to take a kiss for luck," he chuckled.

  "Take it," she challenged with cold defiance. "It will only bring you bad luck."

  His thumb forced her chin up as Morgan accepted her challenge. Warm breath touch her lips an instant before his mouth claimed hers. Flash fire raced through her veins, quickly burning itself out when the firm pressure was lifted from her lips. Resentment smoldered in the look she gave him.

  "Happy nightmares." Morgan winked good-humoredly, and without another word clicked open the door and slid back behind the wheel.

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  Chapter Three

  UNWRAPPING THE LAST of the protective leg cottons from the white horse's leg, Patty straightened, arching her back to relieve the fatigue of the long drive. The travel days in between rodeos always seemed much longer than other days with so much preparation to be done before leaving and upon arrival at their destination.

  After affectionately stroking Legend's silken neck, Patty gathered the cotton and bandages and walked to the tack compartment of the goose-necked horse trailer. The crunch of footsteps on the gravelly sand sounded behind her and she glanced over her shoulder.

  "Hi, grandpa. Are you all done or do you need some help?" she asked.

  "I'm all done except for Liberty," he answered, a look of tired concern on his tanned, ageless face. "I thought the roads were smooth enough that we didn't need to apply any cold water midway through the trip, but I guess the long haul was too long. There's a slight swelling in his legs."

  "Thank heaven we don't have a performance tonight," Patty sighed. "Do you want me to help rub him down?"

  "No." Everett King waved aside her offer. "Go put on a pot of coffee and get our trailer straightened around."

  "That sounds like a grand idea," Patty agreed with weary enthusiasm, handing the leg wrappings to her grandfather to put away.

  As Patty left the stabling area and headed toward their travel trailer, the blare of a semitrailer horn tooted behind her. Her steps slowed to wait for the large truck to pass. The stock trailer behind the tractor was emblazoned with the words Kincaid Rodeo Company. There was a shifting of gears as the truck rolled alongside her.

  "Hello, Princess. Where are you off to?" The truck slowed to a stop while the cowboy driver stuck his head out of the window, the wide-brimmed white hat tilted at a cocky angle to reveal waving light brown hair.

  "Hi, Jack!" Patty returned gaily, her feet moving lightly over the ground as she moved toward the cab of the truck. "Just heading to the trailer to fix some coffee."

  "You have your horses all settled in, huh?" he asked rhetorically, and motioned toward the back end of the truck. "I'll be getting rid of my cargo of bulls pretty soon myself."

  "When did you start driving for Morgan?" She stood on the running board to raise herself to his level.

  "Since I finished out of the averages at the last four rodeos and discovered my pockets were empty," Jack Evans grinned.

  "That's what you get for looking at the girls in the short skirts sitting in the box seats instead of paying attention to the bucking horse you're riding," Patty teased.

  A boyish look filled with appealing charm stole across his face. "What I really need is a sweet, steady girl to keep me in line. Why don't you volunteer for the job, Princess? We'd make a great combination."

  "If I ever took your flirting seriously, Jack Evans, you would fly out of here as fast as a horse that's just backed into an electric fence," Patty replied lightly.

  "I wouldn't be too sure about that." He cocked his head to the side in denial as his gaze roamed over her face and the dimples in her cheeks. "The more I keep looking into your baby brown eyes and seeing that image of slippers and pipe, the more inviting it becomes."

  A pair of large strong hands nearly circled Patty's waist from behind as she was lifted from the running board and set on the ground, despite her startled outcry of protest.

  "Sorry to end your charming little scene, Skinny," Morgan Kincaid's voice carried no apologetic tone. "But I have to get those bulls unloaded and settled in."

  "You could have said so!" Patty retorted, recovering with angry swiftness from her surprise. "You didn't have to manhandle me!"

  The smile he gave her was cold. "You haven't been manhandled enough to know the meaning of the word."

  Then the steel gaze was turned to the cowboy already shifting the truck back into gear. "Get that truck up to the pens, Jack."

  "Right away, Morgan," Jack Evans agreed cheerfully, addressing a one-fingered salute to Patty. "See you later, Princess."

  "What are you princess of?" There was a harsh, mocking look in the eyes Morgan turned to her. "Ice or snow?"

 
Since that night more than a week ago, Patty had deliberately ignored Morgan, responding with chilling civility only if he addressed her directly.

  "You'll have to ask Jack," she answered sarcastically.

  "I wondered how long it would take Jack to get around to giving you the rush," he mused thoughtfully. "He's made the rounds with nearly all the other girls on the circuit."

  "Look who's talking!" There was a haughty arch to her finely drawn brow.

  The action seemed to amuse him. "I'd love to stand here and argue with you, if only to keep in practice. Unfortunately I have other things to do." He took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face her trailer. With an insulting slap on her rump, he sent her on her way. "Get along home, Skinny. You'll have to sharpen your tongue on me another day."

  There had been a sting to his slap and Patty had to resist the desire to rub the smarting area. She spun around to fling a last poisonous dart at him and discovered his long strides had already taken him several yards away in the direction of the semitrailer truck.

  With her target practically out of range, she pivoted sharply toward the trailer, her unvented temper adding haste to her footsteps. She cursed herself for letting Morgan get under her skin the way she did.

  It was that all-knowing attitude of his that irritated her, that and the way he laughed at her. All she had to do was see him and the happiest song would hit a sour note.

  After the coffeepot was filled with coffee and water, Patty set it on the gas burner of the small stove and began putting back the breakable items she had packed away before the morning's journey. She was in the bedroom setting the clock on the small shelf near the bed when her grandfather came in.

  "The coffee isn't quite done yet," she called out to him. "Do you want to shower and change while you wait?"

  "No, I don't think so," he answered.

  "I think I will," speaking her thoughts aloud without actually addressing her comment to him. She ran a hand over her hair. "And wash my hair, too."

  "You go ahead, girl," nodded her grandfather as she stepped from the bedroom into the narrow hallway and opened the door containing the bath towels. "I'll have to check on Libbie later on. After that I'll clean up."

  Patty leaned against the closet, drawing her brows together in a serious expression. "Gramps, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

  "Do you want to save it for another time, honey?" he asked as he bent his lean flame to peer out of the window of the trailer. "Pete Barber just walked by and I wanted to talk to him about when we can use the arena tomorrow for practice. We'll discuss it later, okay?"

  With a wave of his hand, he was walking out the door.

  With a shrugging sigh, Patty hung the bath towels on the rack beside the shower stall, walked into the small kitchen to turn down the fire under the bubbling coffee pot and returned to adjust the water temperature for her shower. A few minutes later she was beneath the refreshing spray, the tingling jets of water massaging her tired muscles as it and the soap washed her clean.

  She had just lathered her hair when she heard the trailer door open and her grandfather walk in again. "The coffee is done. You can pour yourself a cup now."

  Ducking her head under the spray to rinse away the shampoo, Patty called out again. "The thing I wanted to talk to you about was next year's bookings. I'd like to change our tour to another circuit."

  "Why?" was his answering question.

  Her hair squeaked clean and she turned off the water, stepping from the shower to wrap her head in one towel as she dried herself with the other.

  "I know all the arguments for staying here," she replied. "It's closer to home. The dates are all fairly close, so we don't have very many long trips to make from one rodeo to the other. And we've performed in all these places before so they know us and it's easier to book. But I think it's time we made a change, saw a different part of the country."

  She paused, staring at the wall as if she could see through it to the kitchen on the other side. Her mouth twisted wryly.

  "The truth is I want to get away from all these old faces, all the people that have known me since I started in the business. They all remember me as that pigtailed little kid that followed Lije around. And I'm tired of their amused sympathy."

  An angry toss of the towel onto the rack followed the last clipped statement. "Especially Morgan Kincaid! I know you like him, but I really can't stand him!"

  Reaching for the robe that she usually kept on the bathroom hook, Patty discovered it wasn't there. The clink of a cup against a saucer sounded from the kitchen as she reached for the damp towel on the rack and wrapped it sarong-wise around her body.

  "Before you start telling me all the reasons why it's impossible to switch circuits, pour me a cup of coffee," she called out.

  Her grandfather's muffled okay was followed by movements in the kitchen and another clink of a cup while Patty wiped up the scattered droplets of water that had escaped from the shower. She and her grandfather had discussed the possibility of changing their tour before, shortly after Lije was married. At the time she had been too miserable to argue and had been easily persuaded by his arguments to stay with the same circuit. Now she felt distinctly refreshed and ready to do battle. He would find that she wouldn't be so easily convinced this time!

  As she stepped from the small bathroom into the equally small hallway, a cup of coffee was held out to her.

  Patty froze at the sight of the large hand that held it, her gaze springing to its owner. The searing flames in her cheeks were not the result of the warm shower, but from the appraising look Morgan Kincaid was giving her as he inspected her from bare head to bare toe, taking his leisure to study all the bareness the towel exposed in between.

  "What are you doing here? Where's grandpa?" Patty breathed, unable to meet the bright gleam in his eyes or see past the massive shoulders to the living area of the small trailer.

  "Outside, talking to Pete." The hand holding the cup moved forward. "Don't you want your coffee now?"

  With fumbling fingers, she took the cup from him, her knees quivering at the familiar and insulting way he kept looking at her. The warmth from the cup was comforting and she wrapped her fingers around it to draw strength.

  "Was that you I heard come into the trailer? Grandpa didn't—" Her voice began to tremble, too.

  "Gramps didn't hear a word you said. You'll have to repeat your carefully rehearsed speech again," Morgan smiled at her with infuriating complacency.

  "You knew I thought it was grandpa out here. You could have let me know," she accused resentfully.

  "I didn't find out anything that I didn't already know, so what's the harm?" One shoulder was lifted in a mocking shrug.

  "There is no harm. I can't stand you, and I'll gladly say it to your face!" Patty retorted. "But it was supposed to be a private conversation. If you had any manners or sense of decency, you would have let me know you were here." She placed a hand on her hip in rigid challenge. "Exactly why are you here?"

  "I wanted to talk to you and gramps together," Morgan replied easily, the glitter never leaving the sapphire depths of his eyes. "He was busy with Pete, so he suggested that I come in here and wait. The coffee was your idea. Incidentally, you make very good coffee."

  "I wish you'd choke on it!" Patty hissed, spinning away to stalk to her bedroom in the rear of the trailer, the spurt of temper giving strength to her previously unsteady legs.

  "So you've decided to run, have you?" Morgan drawled.

  "It is not running!" she answered vehemently. "It's a new start." She stopped short beside her bed, stamping a bare foot in frustration. "I don't know why I'm explaining my reasons to you. It's none of your business!"

  "I don't suppose so," he agreed lazily.

  Whether it had been the furious pounding of blood in her ears or a subconscious belief that Morgan wouldn't follow her or a combination of both, Patty hadn't heard the footsteps following her to the bedroom. Not until his voice ca
me from inside the doorway did she realize he was behind her.

  "Get out of my bedroom!"

  The towel almost slipped loose when she pivoted sharply around. The quick movement of her hand saved her from an embarrassing incident.

  "Is this yours?" His gaze swung with casual interest around the small cubicle. "I didn't know if you or your grandfather slept here.

  "Grandpa sleeps on the couch. I want to get dressed. Will you leave?"

  Her teeth were grinding together as her nerves reacted to his dark form that nearly filled the room. The force of his masculinity was overpoweringly apparent.

  "It's a shame that you wear jeans all the time," he commented, ignoring her biting order. "They cover up a very attractive pair of legs. They're very nicely shaped."

  His lazy glance moved from the bareness of her thighs to the shadowy cleft between her breasts, partially visible above the towel wrapped around her body. "—Along with other things," Morgan added suggestively.

  A crimson flush tinted her cheeks as she hitched the towel higher. The protective gesture drew a smile on the hard male mouth.

  "I have to get dressed," Patty repeated, less vigorously than before as a nervous awareness took hold of her.

  "Don't mind me." he shrugged.

  The casual step he took farther into the room prompted Patty to take an immediate step backward. Her complete concentration on his presence blocked out the memory of how close she was to the bed. She backed into it, lost her balance, and started to fall onto its softness.

  Morgan's reflexes were swifter. With lithe coordination, a saving arm was circled around her waist while his other hand removed the spilling cup of hot coffee from hers.

  The next breath she took, she found herself being held closely against his chest, the towel around her wet hair brushing his tanned cheek. The rough denim material of his Levi's was rubbing against her thighs while one of her hands clutched the cotton material of his shirt and the other had a death grip on the towel.

  Drawing a shaky breath, Patty tilted her head back to meet the amused glitter shining through the smoky veil of his half-closed lashes. The pressure of the hand against the small of her back increased to arch her closer. Her coffee cup was now sitting on the shelf near her bed and his free hand moved slowly up her arm to caress a smooth white shoulder.