C.J. Carmichael

Colton: Rodeo Cowboy


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jumping over the safety barrier with the ease of a natural athlete. Given that both her parents had been pros in the rodeo circuit, Leah supposed she shouldn’t be surprised.

      “Toast?” Davey pushed his head up from the pillow then lifted his butt in the air—a maneuver that looked like a modified child’s pose in yoga. “I want fwench toast, Mommy.”

      Though he was almost three, Davey’s speech wasn’t very advanced. He spoke in short sentences at best and had trouble with his rs. Leah wasn’t worried…yet. She figured the divorce and the recent move to Montana might be part of the problem. In time, she hoped Davey would catch up to the verbal ability of his peers.

      “Let’s go to the bathroom first, honey.” He’d only been weaned from his bedtime diaper a few months ago. She’d expected he might regress after the move, but luckily he hadn’t.

      Five minutes later both children were washed and sitting at the breakfast table. Leah knew her mother would prefer that the children were properly dressed, as well, but she was too much the doting grandmother to insist on it.

      As she watched the children tuck in to their food, Leah couldn’t help but think of Colt again. She felt like such a fool for falling all over him last night. She’d actually thought she saw layers of depth in Colt that she’d never seen before. She should have known he wasn’t serious, that he was just messing with her.

      He’d stopped the charade fast enough when he found out she was a mother. She still wasn’t sure what he’d objected to most. The fact that she’d “had” to get married because she was pregnant? Or just the fact that she had kids, and so had responsibilities that he didn’t.

      At any rate, it was good that he’d revealed his true colors so quickly. Getting involved with a self-absorbed cowboy was one mistake she didn’t intend to repeat.

      * * *

      COLT WAS UP BEFORE dawn on Sunday morning, hauling oats and hay into the feeders, ignoring the protests of his rodeo-weary body. Pulled muscles and bruises, sprains and broken bones, came with the territory. Most cowboys worked despite their injuries. He had ridden with bruised ribs, sprained fingers, even a mild concussion, once.

      He didn’t mind physical pain. On some level he welcomed it.

      He’d hardly slept last night after leaving Leah. He’d behaved badly at the end and he knew it. But he’d been so damn disappointed. They could have been good together. If only he’d recognized that years ago, before she married another man—before she had children….

      The sun was creeping up on the eastern horizon when one of the ranch hands came out to join him. Darrell was in his mid-forties, a steady family man who had been working at the ranch for as long as Colt could remember. Like Royce, Darrell was a man of few words. Most wranglers were.

      “You’re out early.” Darrell glanced at the feeders. “Looks like you’ve done my work for me.”

      Colt removed his leather work gloves and flexed his fingers. “I guess there’s more than enough to go around. Or so my brother is always telling me.”

      “Ace works damn hard,” Darrell conceded. “That new stallion isn’t helping matters much.”

      “Midnight?” The black-as-coal recent addition to their breeding stock program was a worry, all right. The family had paid a lot of money at auction for the stallion—the price driven up in a testosterone-fueled bidding war with their neighbor, Earl McKinley.

      “Ace has pumped a hell of a lot of time, not just money, into that animal.”

      “He’s been a good breeder out in the field, though, right?”

      Darrell nodded. “Yeah, but we need to be able to breed him in a controlled environment. And Midnight still won’t stand for that.”

      Colt nodded thoughtfully. “Think I’ll go pay my respects. Maybe give Midnight his workout for the day.”

      “Good idea. Gracie usually does that, but this is her day off.” Darrell gave him a nod, then headed toward the new mares’ barn to continue with his chores.

      The morning sun was bathing the ranch in gold as Colt made his way to Midnight’s stud quarters. Colt was on the road a lot, but usually that only made him appreciate his home all the more when he returned. Late spring was a beautiful time of year with the trees in full leaf, and the grass thick and green. Colt inhaled deeply. Nothing finer than the pure air that blew off the Bull Mountains. He knew he was damn lucky to call Montana home.

      If only he could find the inner peace to match his surroundings…

      He found Midnight at the far end of his paddock, nuzzling his favorite mare, Fancy Gal. They sure made an odd-looking couple—the pregnant dun mare and the majestic black stallion. Come next spring, it was going to be interesting to see what their foal looked like.

      Colt climbed over the fence and paused to see how Midnight would react. The stallion shook his mane and pranced backward a few steps. Colt had to admit that all of Ace’s doctoring was paying off. The stallion’s coat was glossy and thick, and he’d lost that wild look that spoke of the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of the damned foreman who’d been hired by Midnight’s previous owners.

      “Hey, boy. How’s it going?” Colt moved slowly toward the horse. He supposed Midnight was on break from his stud duties while Ace was on his honeymoon. “Feel like stretching out those long legs of yours today?”

      Midnight jerked his head upright as Colt approached, and laid his ears back.

      “It’s okay, boy. No one’s going to hurt you here on Thunder Ranch. You’ve figured that out by now, haven’t you?” From the pocket of his denim jacket, he pulled out one of Angie Barrington’s special horse cookies. Along with carrots they were Midnight’s favorite treat.

      Cautiously Midnight accepted the goody, then backed right off again.

      “You miss Gracie, don’t you, boy? Well, don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He kept talking as he moved closer, angling the horse toward the gate that led to the dirt-packed, round arena they used for exercising and training young horses.

      Midnight was no fool. He knew where Colt wanted him to go. Yet he resisted. Why? Colt wondered. He studied the horse’s dark eyes, trying to understand what was going on in his head.

      Eventually Colt coaxed the stallion into the arena where he used hand gestures and encouraging words to get Midnight to run laps around the perimeter of the fence. A few times Midnight seemed to get into it, but then he would fall back and give Colt a resigned look as if to say, This is it? This is the most excitement you can give me?

      “Not too enthusiastic, is he?”

      Colt started at the sound of his mother’s voice. He turned around and saw her leaning against the fence, one booted foot on the lower rung. She was wearing an old corduroy coat she’d owned for ages and her cheeks were ruddy from the cool morning air.

      “Sorry about yesterday, Mom.”

      “It’s Ace and Flynn you need to apologize to.”

      “I will. As soon as they’re back from their honeymoon.” He glanced back at Midnight, who had stopped running and was nibbling at the grass growing at the edge of the fence. “Has anyone tried riding him yet?”

      His mother looked amused. “That horse was born to buck. I don’t think anyone would dare.”

      “Well, maybe we should let him compete in rodeos again. He needs to get some exercise somehow. Loping around this arena just doesn’t cut it.”

      “That would be pretty risky, don’t you think? What if he was injured?”

      “You have a point,” Colt conceded. “Okay, boy.” He opened the gate to the pasture. “That’s enough for today.”

      Midnight didn’t need to be invited twice. He trotted quickly out of the arena and rejoined his mare.