her months to get to where she could raise her hand without the gelding flinching.
Beckett leaned into her hand, bobbing his head as she hit the sweet spot behind his ears. The scarred areas on his back and shoulders were now marked only by white hair that showed starkly against his rich copper coat. When she’d bought Beckett, the areas had been gruesome saddle sores where the hair and, in some places, the skin, had been worn off by a poor-fitting saddle and too many hours of use. The sore on his shoulder had been infected with maggots and the memory still made her shudder.
When Liv had expressed her outrage, Trena had only nodded, keeping her mouth carefully shut as if saying too much would betray Matt, her then husband. Trena wasn’t without guilt—she should have tended to the wounds, kept them from becoming infested—but she was afraid of horses and Matt was responsible for the wounds themselves. Well, someone had to take care of the horse, and that had been when Liv had been certain she was buying Beckett, regardless of what her then fiancé, Greg, decreed. Her life had changed that day as she stood up to Greg and hadn’t backed down in the name of peace and harmony. He’d been stunned. And so had she.
It had felt wonderful to finally stand her ground...and terrifying.
Liv gave Beckett one last pat, then took a few backward steps, debating about closing the access door to the pasture and keeping Beckett in the barn, just in case Matt came back.
She decided against it. Beckett needed space to move and if Matt came back, what was he going to do? Load the horse and leave? Steal him?
Probably not. He had a reputation to maintain and stealing a horse from the rightful owner was not going to help his image. But she could see him trying to charm her into selling. Charm had always been Matt’s strong point. It’d been the reason she’d been so duped by him back in the day.
As she walked back to the man door, she pressed a hand against the side of her face, remembering the one time he’d kissed her—on the cheek—and grimaced at how ecstatic, yet disappointed, she’d been. She’d been such a damned fool where men had been concerned back then, and had remained a fool for about ten years after. It’d taken Greg’s controlling behavior and a horse that needed her care to make her wake up and see the truth.
CHAPTER TWO
BECKETT WAS ON the Bailey Ranch. That was the good news. The bad news was that, unless Liv did a 180, getting Beckett back was going to be a challenge and Matt didn’t know what he was going to do about that. But he was going to do something and he was going to do it soon. He’d been off for four weeks and figured he had another six before he could trust his knee enough to compete—just in time for the Bitterroot Challenge, the richest rodeo in Montana. He needed to start racking up earnings again.
The injury in Austin had put a major crimp in his comeback season, a season that until that point had been gold. Hopefully, because of his winning streak, he’d earned enough to hold his qualifying position for the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas, but he wasn’t taking chances. The year before, while dealing with his divorce and all the shit Trena had thrown his way, he’d missed qualifying by four hundred dollars. Four hundred lousy dollars—after winning the world title the previous season. It’d killed him, and it hadn’t helped that his brother, in his debut season, had done so damned well.
He needed to get that championship back.
He sank down into his chair and stretched his bad leg out in front of him. When he’d wrecked his knee this time, he’d done more damage than usual. In the past he’d injured his right knee, the one he used to brace against the calf when he threw it to the ground. This time, however, the left knee had gone, the one he used to mount and dismount. The emergency room doctor had been blunt and told Matt he’d roped his last calf, but Matt had heard that before and had proved the doctors wrong three times so far—and that was only on his right knee. It simply made sense that he had at least two more goes on his left. If he spaced them out.
Matt eased off his boot. Life without roping was not an option—at least not yet. It was the reason he got up in the morning, the reason he needed Beckett back. They shared chemistry, he and the horse. If Trena had truly wanted to hurt him—and she had—she couldn’t have come up with a better way to do it. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes.
Honestly, even if he never roped off Beckett again, Matt wanted him back because, until he had that horse, Trena would remain the victor in their private war.
And Matt did not take losing well.
The sound of a truck pulling into the drive brought Matt out of his chair and for one wild moment he thought that maybe Liv had decided to take his offer. Beckett was worth many thousands of dollars and he was certain that Trena would have gotten as much out of him as she possibly could, since the sale of the horse, as well as his truck, old tractor and two of his hunting rifles, had apparently bankrolled her exit. Ten percent over what Liv had paid would make for a tidy profit for her and he could see where after some thought she might have come to her senses.
But the visitor wasn’t Liv.
Matt instantly recognized the battered red pickup when he glanced out the window. His cousin, Wilhelmina, or Willa to anyone who didn’t want a black eye.
Willa was practically on his doorstep when he opened the door and a kid of maybe thirteen or fourteen was shuffling up the walk behind her. When had her son gotten so old?
Matt and Willa were not the closest of relatives, despite the fact that they lived in the same area, but that was mainly because he was always on the road and Willa was too prickly and mean to let anyone get too close to her.
“Hey, Willa. What’s up?” he asked, knowing it couldn’t be good. His cousin was all of five feet two inches high and had a squarish build, with blond curly hair and intense blue eyes. The kid was three or four inches taller than his mother with light brown hair and those same blue eyes peering at him from behind horn rim glasses. He smiled at Matt with a hint of apology that sent red flags popping up—then ambled a few feet away and pulled a phone out of his pocket.
Willa dove straight into her request. “I got a job working on a dude ranch up north and I need a favor.”
Yep. Bad news. “What kind of favor?”
“Crag needs a place to hang for a while.”
Crag? He’d thought the kid’s name was Craig. “Why with me?”
“Because you owe me,” she said in a low voice so that her son wouldn’t hear.
“I don’t owe you enough to be a babysitter,” Matt hissed back.
“Yeah, you do.” Willa stated it as fact, and he grudgingly had to admit she had a point. Willa had been the one who’d called him in San Antonio and warned him that a lot of his property seemed to be disappearing shortly after he and Trena had officially separated. She’d seen someone driving the old Studebaker pickup he’d bought to restore and had looked into the matter since, close or not, Matt was her cousin. He just wished she’d noticed before Beckett had been sold.
But... Matt eyed the boy, who candidly stared back...he knew nothing about kids.
“Like I said, Crag needs a place to stay and he needs something to keep him busy. Sorry about the short notice, but—” Willa shrugged “—not much I can do about it. I’m supposed to be there tomorrow.”
“What’s the rush?”
“One of their wranglers got hurt and this is a big opportunity for me. If I can get on full-time, I’ll get regular living quarters and then Crag can come live with me, but I have a probationary period.”
No. No. No.
“Willa...”
“He won’t stay here the entire time,” Willa said. “I’m making other arrangements. I just hit a snag and I have to get up there ASAP—”
“I get it.” Matt didn’t want to ask how long she wanted him to keep the boy, not with the kid standing