Six White Horses Page 7

  "What set him off this time?"

  She let her gaze bounce to her grandfather's face and ricochet back to her clothes. "I told that reporter that I'd thought about riding a bucking horse. I never said I planned to do it—I only thought about it. But he had to play the dictator and tell me I couldn't do it."

  "I certainly hope you don't." Everett King shook his head at the dubious wisdom of the thought.

  "Don't you start in on me, grandpa!" she warned, and started toward the tack room to soap down the leather.

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  Chapter Five

  THE BLACK REIN was not lying very smoothly on Loyalty's neck. Patty slid from his back to adjust it, her trembling fingers nearly competing with her quaking knees. They had given two performances at this particular rodeo and neither had been up to her usual standards of near-flawless execution.

  A pair of hands closed over her shoulders and she jumped in surprise. "Hello, Princess, I'm back," Jack Evans greeted her in a soft voice.

  The kiss he attempted to brush along her neck was eluded as Patty turned around to face him, striving for a nonchalance that her stomach was far from feeling. Her glance took in the calf roper still working in the arena, the last event before her performance.

  "Hi, Jack. How did you do tonight?" she asked, trying to sound lighthearted.

  "I'm going to be taking the average," he winked with a boastful gleam in his eyes. "And all because of my good-luck princess. We'll have to go out tonight to celebrate."

  "I don't know, Jack," Patty hedged, liking this cocky cowboy without really trusting him.

  "Sure you do." He curled a finger under her chin. "We're a team. I'll meet you at the stables when the rodeo is over. In the meantime, let me give you back some of the luck you've given me."

  The warmness of his lips was comforting, almost reassuring, and Patty responded in gratitude. She refused consciously to admit it, but there was an inner feeling that she would need all the luck she could get before the night was over.

  "Say," Jack sighed, raising his head and studying her through narrowed eyes with a little more interest. "I'm going to have to keep my eye on you. You've been getting in a little more practice on the side, haven't you? I'm the one who's supposed to be teaching you about kissing."

  "Don't be silly. Who would I practice with?" Her gaze sought the arena again as the announcer introduced the last contestant in the calf-roping event.

  For the first time she noticed Morgan Kincaid leaning against the inside rails of the arena near the gate. He wasn't looking in her direction, but Patty flushed anyway.

  "I'm in next," she said, checking the rein again to be sure it was lying straight, and swung herself onto Loyalty's back.

  "I'll be rooting for you from the chutes," Jack promised, and patted her knee lightly before sauntering off in that direction.

  Her mouth began to get dry as she watched the arena being cleared of horses and riders. She glanced at her grandfather standing at Liberty's head. He gave her a thumbs-up sign and she nodded with a weak smile.

  The leader of the small four-piece band looked at her from the announcer's stand, nodding as he raised his baton. Standing up on Loyalty's back and shifting a foot to Landmark, Patty nodded to Lefty to open the gate. As it swung open, the first rousing note of "She'll be Comin' Round the Mountain" was sounded by the band.

  The six white horses pranced through the gate, breaking into a spirited, rolling canter while Patty waved to the crowd, who applauded her entrance. Then every sight and every sound was blocked out as she concentrated on the routine.

  The weaves, the figure eights, all were executed without error. Patty was breathing easier as she saw her grandfather supervising the erection of the jumps. She paid little attention to the men setting them until she sensed that something wasn't as it was supposed to be. As she circled on the inside of the arena, it took her nearly a full turn to realize that the height of the jumps was less than usual. Her lips tightened grimly as she guessed that the tall dark man standing near her grandfather was the culprit.

  She reined the horses to a stop beside them. "What's going on here?" she demanded. "Those are supposed to be three-foot jumps."

  "We thought it would be safer to lower them," Morgan answered.

  "We?" Patty mocked harshly. "You mean you thought it would be safer. Well, you can just go and raise them to three feet. I take my horses over three-foot jumps, not kindergarten hurdles!"

  "Liberty refused the second jump twice last night," her grandfather reminded her. "Both times you were able to avoid disaster by the skin of your teeth."

  "But he took the jump," she added forcefully.

  "Patty, you're making a scene," Morgan spoke quietly and patiently. "Take the horses over the jumps and we'll argue about it when the performance is over."

  "That's what you'd like me to do, isn't it?" she turned on him, placing both feet on Landmark's back to be closer to the resolute figure. "Why don't you tell me about your plans before the performance instead of now? This is just another one of your attempts to trick me into a position where I have to do what you want. It's not going to work this time."

  Morgan sighed and shook his head. "All indications are that Liberty is sound. But he still could be sore. Whatever the cause he seems to have lost his confidence. What does it matter if you have to take smaller jumps for a few nights as long as you don't injure yourself or the horses? He's one of the leaders. He has to have confidence."

  Her temper wouldn't allow her to acknowledge the logic of his politely spoken argument. In a trembling rage, she jumped to the ground.

  "Either you're going to raise those jumps or I am!" she declared.

  She watched her grandfather and Morgan exchange glances. The slender shoulders of her grandfather lifted in a resigned shrug. Tight-lipped, Morgan turned from her and with angry, springing strides walked to the jumps and raised the bars to their customary notches.

  As Patty remounted Landmark, she heard the rodeo announcer explain the delay to the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, there seems to have been an error in the height of the jumps. Miss King is having them raised."

  Scattered applause followed his statement, but Patty ignored it, setting the horses at a canter and waiting for that moment when their strides settled to a rhythmic pace. Then she turned them to the jumps. Her soft voice talked to the horses, calming and urging, as the first hurdle was approached.

  Liberty's ears swiveled to the jump, his neck arching a fraction in protest. The momentum of the other horses and the guiding rein carried him to it. Patty's heart screamed as she heard the solid whack of Liberty's leg against the bar, but he cleared it without mishap, stumbling only slightly as he landed before regaining his matching stride with Lodestar.

  Around the arena curve, the six horses galloped slowly, the double set of jumps coming into their path. Moistening her dry lips, Patty clicked to the rhythmically bobbing heads. The bars suddenly seemed much higher and the stunt more formidable than ever before.

  Closer and closer they came to the first of the obstacles until they were directly on it. As Lodestar gathered himself for the jump, Liberty tossed his head in the air and tried to turn away from the rails. His refusal had been left too late. There was no room to swing away from the jump. While Lodestar leaped into the air, Legend crowded the white horse from the rear. Valiantly Liberty tried to take the jump. His front legs cleared it, but his hindquarters caught it squarely, tumbling him to the ground.

  In agonizing slow motion, Patty saw the second pair of horses attempt and fail to avoid the fallen white steed. Lodestar, unable to continue without his partner, was nearly pushed to the ground by the momentum of the second pair tumbling clumsily over the jump.

  The bars were down as Landmark and Loyalty joined them, their hooves tripping on the wooden rails. Patty had already shifted her weight to Landmark's back as Loyalty lurched forward and fell into the two horses struggling to regain their footing.

  In the n
ext instant she was flying through the air as Landmark went to his knees. Instinct had not allowed her to act swiftly enough to push herself to the outside. Instead she fell between the horses. Pain screamed through her at the concussion of the arena floor. With tightly closed eyes, she waited for the moment when a flailing leg would strike her or the warm white bodies that surrounded her would roll on top.

  By some miracle neither happened. Except for a few brushing blows, she lay on the sand-clay arena unscathed. Human voices wavered through the whirling chaos of her mind, the seating pain in her chest nearly separating her from reality. The oppressive heat of the horses' bodies was no longer pressing around her. The touch or a pair of hands forced her lashes to flutter open.

  "Don't move!" The snapped order was issued through clenched teeth.

  The blazing fire that flamed with blue lights into her face halted the hysterical impulse to laugh. Movement seemed such an impossible thing, but the order had the reverse effect of encouraging her to move, to make certain she was in one piece. Even as her lungs burned in an attempt to fill with air, Patty guessed her true motivation was to show Morgan Kincaid that she couldn't be ordered around.

  When she tried to push herself into a sitting position, he roughly forced her down, little gentleness in the fingers that were probing her arms and legs for injury.

  "I'm… a-all right," she gasped painful swallows of oxygen. "The w-wind… the wind w-was just knocked… out of m-me."

  "You lie down or I'll break your neck!" The savage bite of his voice was reinforced by the black fury of his expression. "I told you, you half-witted little idiot, not to take those jumps at that height, but you knew it all! You just had to show me what an expert you were! Do you feel very expert now?" he jeered.

  The last thing that Patty wanted was a flurry of I-told-you-so's, however accurate the observation. Acid tears burned her eyes as she averted her head from his harshly accusing gaze. Her grandfather was kneeling down beside her, his weathered face lined with concern, fear lurking in the recesses of his eyes.

  "Patty, gal, are you all right?" Everett King murmured in a throbbing voice.

  Choked, she could only nod that she was, as a tear spilled from one eye to race across a dirt-smeared cheek.

  "The wind was knocked out of her," Morgan clipped the ends of the words. "I ought to break one of her arms or legs just or general principle."

  "Help me up, grandpa," Patty requested tightly, hating and loathing the man who continued to taunt her with her foolishness.

  But it was Morgan's arm that curved around her back, his fingers biting into her waist as he lifted her onto her feet. Her mind had already registered the fact that she was not seriously injured, but Patty felt like one big throbbing ache. Her legs were shaking badly and as much as she wanted to shake away Morgan's supporting arm, she needed it. The arena thundered with applause.

  "Put me back on the horses," she said between gulping breaths as strength began flowing to her limbs again.

  "Turn off the heroics, Patty!" Morgan snapped, giving her a sharp shake as if to instill some sense in her. "Besides, which injured horse would you ride?"

  With a jerk of her head, Patty focused her gaze on the six white horses. She shut her eyes tightly at the sight of the blood red gash on Liberty's flank and Landmark, who was favoring his right front leg. There were cowboys at each horse's head, soothing the frightened, nervous horses while others worked swiftly to untangle the mess of harness and reins.

  "How bad—" Patty could get no more out than that before an enormous lump blocked her throat.

  "Nothing looks broken," her grandfather answered, touching her shoulder in reassurance.

  "Oh, grandpa, I'm sorry," Patty gulped, tears running more freely through her tightly closed eyes.

  "I know, honey," he replied.

  "It's too late for tears now. The damage is done." Compassion was noticeably absent in Morgan's rough tone. "Wave to the crowd so we can get out of here!"

  Squaring her shoulders, Patty shrugged away from his arm, stepping free to lift an arm in salute to the cheering audience. The horses were already being led toward the gate as she turned toward it. With the same determination, she pushed her guilty feelings to the side as she tried to assess from a distance how extensive were the injuries to the horses. Lodestar was walking easily, as were Legend and Legacy. Patty tried desperately to ignore the eyes that were boring holes in her back.

  "Where do you think you're going?" Morgan demanded when Patty turned with her grandfather to follow the horses to the stable area.

  "To take care of the horses, of course." There was a faintly defiant tilt to her head.

  Her grandfather's hand touched her arm, almost regretfully. "You'd better go to the trailer, Patty. Change your clothes. Maybe fix a cup of tea to soothe your nerves."

  At her grandfather's words of agreement, Patty had stopped, turning her resentful expression on the forbidding dark features belonging to Morgan.

  "I suppose that's what you think I should do, too," she challenged coldly.

  "Yes, I do." But Morgan didn't leave it at that. "Just as I thought you should lower the jumps."

  There was a sharp intake of breath as his quietly spoken comment struck its mark with penetrating sureness. Pain flashed through her eyes as she tried to decipher the unreadable expression behind his sooty veil of lashes. Without any attempt to argue, Patty spun on her heel and commanded her watery legs to take her to the trailer. Perhaps she deserved that, she didn't know, but it hurt all the same.

  When she stepped out of the shower more than a quarter of an hour later, the teakettle was whistling merrily on the stove. While the tea steeped, Patty dressed, donning a pair of slacks and a white knit top.

  The hot cup of tea sat on the small table, her elbows on either side, her face buried in her hands. The beginning of a headache was pounding at her temples. After the first tentative sip at the fragrant liquid, Patty knew she couldn't sit idly in the trailer. She had to go to the stables and help. She couldn't leave the entire burden to her grandfather. After all, it was her fault that the accident had occurred in the first place, as much as she wanted to blame Morgan and his autocratic ways.

  Leaving the tea half-drunk, Patty rose from the table, ignoring the bruises that were just beginning to make themselves known. With hurried steps, she traveled the distance from the trailer to the stables, not stopping until she was pausing at the door to Liberty's stall. The top partition of the door was open and her fingers closed over the edge of the lower door.

  A local vet was examining the gash on the white flank, obviously caused by one of the other horses as it fell. Patty's heart constricted painfully at the unsightly mark on the shimmering white coat.

  "Is it serious?" The question came out in a taut whisper, not carrying to the vet or her grandfather standing at Liberty's head.

  "Not as serious as it looks," Morgan's low voice sounded beside her, turning Party's head with a jerk.

  An unrestrainable feeling of guilt widened her brown eyes. "I—I couldn't stay at the trailer."

  Diamond eyes returned her look, the ultimately masculine face self-contained and implacable. An odd tension took hold of Patty, tripping her pulse.

  "So you came here," Morgan observed. "To help?"

  "Yes," she nodded weakly.

  Pointedly he glanced at the faint tremor vibrating her clenched fingers on the stall door. "With those shaking hands? We just got the horses settled down. The last thing they need is to be exposed to your bundle of nerves."

  Her knuckles turned whiter as she tightened her hold, the quiet bite of his voice nearly worse than his jeering anger of before.

  "It was my fault," she acknowledged softly, averting her face from his inspection. "I should be here doing something about it."

  "Everything is being handled. Your grandfather will rest easier in his mind if he knows you're at the trailer. If you'd only admit it, the shock of the fall hasn't worn off."

  "I'm all right!"
A desperate kind of anger coated her statement.

  "Physically," Morgan agreed. "But your stiff upper lip is quivering again."

  Patty felt the trembling of her chin and bit tightly into her lower lip, the ensuing pain almost a relief. Why did he have to be so perceptive?

  "I—I can clean the tack—or something," she argued rigidly.

  "If you're trying to assuage your guilt, you'll have plenty to do taking care of the horses over the next few weeks while they recover. In the meantime, you can spend the rest of the night thanking God that the injuries weren't any more serious than they are, and reminding yourself that if you hadn't been so damned stubborn—"

  "You don't have to say 'I told you so' again!" Patty broke in sharply. "I don't need you to tell me it was my fault! If you hadn't tried to trick me—Oh, what's the use!" she ended with a throbbing catch in her voice.

  She started to turn her back to him, planning to walk to the tack room and soap down the leather tack, but before she could take a single step, Morgan was swinging her off her feet into his arms.

  "You're going back to the trailer." As Patty started to struggle, the metallic glare of his gaze was directed at her. "I wouldn't argue if I were you," he warned with soft harshness. "I'm still thinking that a sound lecture administered to your backside might be a good thing."

  Inwardly there was an acknowledgment of defeat, although Patty held herself with rigid defiance. A quaking weakness was shuddering through her body. If it had been anyone but Morgan who held her, she would have willingly rested her head against that muscular chest, so broad and so strong. But to seek his comfort and support was something her stubborn pride wouldn't allow her to do, no matter how miserable she felt.

  So, while she stared at the inviting expanse of chest, she kept in view the powerful line of his jaw and the firm male mouth. He had already made fun of her quivering chin. She didn't want to be subjected to his mocking laughter by sobbing, however silently, on his shoulder.

  "You are neither gentle nor a gentleman," Patty accused.

  "Why? Because I threatened to give you the spanking you deserved?" he mocked.