Montana Red

Jake stared out the window and tried to ignore her. The old guys would direct her. He’d just sit here and be ready to grab the wheel if she got in a jam.

“You’re all right,” Teddy said. “Just keep on comin’.”

She was moving at about an inch per hour.

“Cowgirl up,” Buck said. “Don’t let nothin’ git you down on the day you killed your first truck.”

She jerked the wheel. The trailer jerked, too. She got it back.

“Thanks a lot, Buck,” she said through clenched teeth.

The old guys laughed. Jake shook his head. They’d probably rattle on until they unnerved her completely.

Then she pressed the accelerator and backed a little faster. Another second or two and she could crash into the gooseneck.

“Want me to unhook you?” Jake asked.

“I’ve backed a trailer before,” she snapped.

“Once,” he muttered, under his breath.

Spoiled rotten, determined to do whatever she wanted whether she knew how or not. Wouldn’t listen to reason. He hated that.

She sped up a little more but she was still just creeping. In spite of that caution, her trailer seemed to be going in a more and more crooked path.

“There you go,” Buck said. “You’re nearly to the hard part. Come on, now.”

Clea clenched her jaw even harder and pressed down on the gas a little more. Jake kept his eyes on the outside rear-view mirror.

Buck muttered, “Go for it.”

“Watch it,” Teddy said. “Crank ‘er to the right, just a hair.”

“No, she’s okay that way,” Buck said. “Send ‘er toward the house, Clea, and then hold ‘er there. Straight back.”

“You cain’t even see straight, Buck. You shut up and let me do this. You’re…”

A sudden loud whinny cut through the air and a big black mare ran to the fence. Clea sucked in her breath and stepped on the gas a little more.

“Now, you all watch for that trailer,” she said, and kept her eyes on the mirror. The whinny rang out again.

“Whoo-ee, and not a white hair on her,” Teddy said. “Black as the ace of spades and, what is she? At least near seventeen hands.”

“You’ve got a mighty fancy mare there, Clea,” Buck said.

Clea didn’t say thanks for the compliment. She didn’t say a word.

“What d’you use her fer?” Buck asked.

Finally, she said, “I show her some.”

“She one o’ them jumpers?”

“Yeah.”

“Never could stay in one o’ them little postage-stamp saddles,” Teddy said. “But I never did try it but the one time.”

“Then don’t say never,” Buck said. “One time won’t do it. Maybe Clea’d let you try jumping her mare…”

“Which way is it to your place?” Clea interrupted.

“East,” Buck said.

She glanced at him in the mirror to find out which way that was. Jake shook his head. Couldn’t shoot, couldn’t drive and didn’t know east from west.

“Naw, now watch it—you’re gonna hit the nose of our gooseneck,” Teddy shouted, having suddenly looked back instead of at the horse. “Give it some room. Watch it there, Clea.”

She sent the trailer the wrong way again, toward theirs, but brought it back. Almost too quickly. Then she had it off the driveway on the right, the way it had to be, and they were moving past the Natural Bands trailer.

She gave a huge sigh when it was done. Actually, they all did. No crash, no scrapes, no trouble. She maneuvered the trailer back onto the driveway, going for the road.

“You’re good now. Give ‘er some gas,” Buck said.

But she stepped on the brake.

“Hey,” Jake said. Damn. Was this torture gonna last all night?

“I’ve got to get out of this vest,” she said and Jake saw that her upper lip was filmed with sweat.

She slipped her arms free and handed the fur to Jake, who laid it across his paper sack. It wafted her perfume to his nostrils, a light, citrusy scent that smelled as expensive as that luggage of hers had to be.

The mare whinnied again, then took off and began to canter down the rail with a beautiful smooth gait that made her look to be floating just above the ground.

“Look at the way that mare goes, boys,” Buck said. “She’ll reach and get it, won’t she?”

Clea shifted in the seat and sat up straighter, then hit the gas and stayed on it until the trailer rolled straight down the drive and across the tin horn into the road. At the critical moment, she almost turned the wheel the wrong way, but she caught herself in time to make it swivel to the west so they could head east.

Applause from the backseat.

“You got ‘er done,” Buck said.

“Good job,” Teddy said.

Jake said nothing. She threw a triumphant glance at him.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Hawthorne?” she said. “Did I scare you with my reckless speed?”

“No,” he drawled, “I’m scared I’ll be too old to get outta the truck by myself by the time I get home.”

Laughter erupted in the back and Clea realized the old guys had been pulling for her success. Jake should’ve been, too. After all, that was his trailer she’d managed not to hit.

He didn’t like her much. But he didn’t have to show it every second, did he? She stepped down on the accelerator and they roared off down the road with the old guys laughing and whooping and Jake staring out the window again.

Sullen, too. Well, whatever. What did she care?

Buck and Teddy showed her the turnoff to the cabin that was meant to be hers, which was about two miles into what they said was a five-mile distance to their place. She kept thinking about the ordeal she’d just gone through, about all the challenging ordeals that had made up this day so far. Living in Montana couldn’t be quite this rough all the time.

As soon as she dropped these guys off, she’d go back by her new place and check it out. Once she got Ariel hauled over there and her stuff all moved in, surely she’d have some peace so she could get herself organized.

Finally, Buck said, “Next road. There. On your right.”

Their cabin looked to be a little bigger than Jake’s. It had pens and a small barn immediately behind it and beyond that, just a little higher up at the foot of the hill, a large indoor arena. With real metal walls, not the black curtains like in Texas.

“That there’s where your winter stall will be if you want it,” Teddy told her. “You can ride your mare in there when the snow’s ten-foot deep. All you have to do is figger out how to get yourself over here.”

He and Buck laughed at her horrified expression. Jake wasn’t listening.

“I like to ski,” she said dryly.

“Sometimes it’s that or snowshoe in,” Ted said. “There’s a guy hired to feed and clean stalls when you can’t make it, though. Included in the rent for all the cabins.”

Buck said, “Let me and Teddy out here at the house and we’ll mix up the feed fer the foal. You and Jake go on to the barn and see about her.”

Clea stepped on the brake. “I’m just dropping y’all off…”

“Jake oughtta come in and learn to mix the milk,” Teddy said. “If ‘n’ he’s really gonna take his turn at feedin’ tonight, I don’t want him wakin’ me up—”

Buck interrupted the diatribe. “Clea, you have to go down there by the barn anyhow to turn around. Let Jake show you our little wild orphan.”

He opened his door. “Come on, Ted,” he said, in a sardonic tone. “I’ll do the work and you kin put yore feet up.”

Insisting that he was not lazy, he just wanted things even, Teddy got out and he and Buck headed for the house. Jake was entirely silent as Clea drove on. He seemed to be deep in thought, a million miles away.

“I don’t know why Buck thinks I need a place to turn around,” she said, with self-deprecating sarcasm, “I could just back out to the road.”

It didn’t get a rise out of him. He was staring through the windshield at the mountains. Well, of course. Duh, Clea. He’s worried about his truck, no doubt.

She pulled up and stopped in front of the barn.

“Here you are, safe and sound in spite of all I could do,” she said. “I’m really sorry about your truck. Have your insurance people contact me about the damage and I’ll take care of it.”

She shifted into Park and reached to open the console.

“I’ll write down my cell number.”

He opened the door and stepped out as he waited for her to write the number down on an index card.

“They’ll need your last name,” he said.

“Of course,” she said, but that hadn’t occurred to her. Usually the people she dealt with knew who she was.

Above the number she wrote, Clea Mathison.

Clea Mathison, whom Jake Hawthorne saw as an incompetent idiot—a dumb blonde. Well, she might just let her hair grow out to its natural chestnut.

When she looked up to hand the card to him, she smiled and said, “Again, I’m sorry I shot your truck, Jake.”

He barely glanced at her, just took the card with a muttered thanks, closed the door and walked away.

She watched him go, the sunlight bright across the back of his shirt. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back. He no longer knew she was there.

Since she was a teenager, every man anywhere around her always knew she was there. Even Brock. He’d ignored her plenty of times but he’d always been aware of her and so had every other man.

Now, to Jake Hawthorne, she wasn’t even a sex object.

She didn’t want to be one. But to be perfectly honest, at that moment she didn’t know who she was, either. And she didn’t want to be alone.

When she ran away from home to another world, she’d had no clue how alien she would feel.

The old Clea would have driven away and let that feeling get stronger. Especially if that was what she was expected to do.

But the new Clea would do something positive. Whatever her heart wanted her to do.

She reached down and turned off the motor. “Wait up,” she called.

Jake, halfway to the barn, stopped in his tracks to look back.

“I want to see the foal,” she said.

He said nothing, just stood there and waited for her to catch up to him.

“I’ve gotta ride,” he said.

“Just point me in the right direction. I don’t expect you to give me a tour. I’ll see the baby and then I’ll check out the arena and the winter stalls.”

He looked as if he didn’t know what to think of her. He was wary. Like the shy, lonesome cowboy in an old movie who’d be less afraid of a gunslinger than of talking to the new schoolmarm. Except he’d plainly told her she couldn’t shoot and couldn’t drive.

Who was he, anyhow? He was going to be her neighbor. He was her neighbor. Solitude and self-sufficiency were fine but she’d seen just now that she might need her neighbors sometimes. And they’d have to have dealings about his truck repairs, so they might as well be on pleasant terms with each other. “Have you lived here on the Elkhorn for a long time?”

“No,” he said. As if that should put an end to the conversation.

She gave him a nice smile. “So. Where are you from?”

“Never lived anywhere more than a year or two.”

“By yourself?”

He gave her a slanted glance that said it was none of her business.

He turned toward the barn.

“Then we’re opposites,” she said, matching strides with him. “I’ve never lived anywhere new before. You’ll have to teach me about living free and on my own in a brand-new place. I need to enroll in How to Start Over 101.”

They walked across the graveled drive to the broad doors standing open at the end of the barn aisle. Without another word.

That didn’t matter. She didn’t care if he wanted to talk to her or not because this was all about her. She was still jangled over the snake and the truck damage. And the reminder that she wasn’t quite as able to protect herself as she’d thought.

But the main thing was aloneness. She just wasn’t ready yet to drive off and be by herself the rest of the day and all night, moving her stuff and her horse into yet another strange place that she’d try to make look like a home.

She didn’t know another soul for fifteen-hundred miles in any direction.

You don’t know this guy, either, Clea. Or the two old ones, friendly as they may seem. This is real life, remember?

Clea Mathison stayed right beside him like they were joined at the hip while they walked into the barn and down the hard-packed dirt aisle between the two rows of stalls. She strolled along in those three-inch—or more—heels as easily as if she wore boots or sneakers, with that air of hers as if she owned the place, adding a wisp of flowery-lemon scent and a dab of shine to the old barn.

And something in him kept his eyes on her in spite of himself. He could feel the tug of curiosity but there was something else underneath it. Probably just that she reminded him of Tori. Same kind of woman.

Which means you better run, not walk, the other way, Jake ol’ boy.

What was she doing? He damn sure hadn’t invited her in.

He hadn’t invited the old guys, either, and they were still here.

Get a grip, Hawthorne. This ain’t about you. She’s not moving in here, and she’s moving out of your house. She’s not staying all day. She just wants to see the baby. All women like babies.

“The foal’s in there,” he said, pointing out the stall.

“Great,” she said, turning to flash him a smile that nearly blinded him. “Thanks. I don’t want to hinder your work.”

He felt more like he’d been dismissed than like he made an escape as he headed for the tack room to get his saddle. This whole deal gave him a bad feeling. Clea Mathison seemed way too comfortable, whether she was in his house or in his barn. And that was Buck’s and Teddy’s fault, being so helpful offering to move her and all. Those two oughtta get a life.

He went to find the saddle for Sugar, a filly who was anything but sweet. She was one of a string of ten three-year-olds that belonged to a ranch over on the other side of the mountain, young horses he’d been hired to green break for ranch work. Getting some outside colts like that was adding a healthy amount of money to his Natural Bands salary and bringing him closer every month to paying off his place. His own place. He still couldn’t get used to the fact that he had one.

At first when he came out of the tack room, he felt a little shock because he thought she was gone. But then he saw that Clea was in the little orphan’s stall with the door closed behind her as if she knew what she was doing instead of standing outside and looking in, as he’d expected. How irritating could one woman be?

They’d already gone to a lot of trouble to save the foal’s life. It was high-strung at best and nervous from being closed up in a stall, although it was getting used to people. But the last thing he and the old guys needed was for Clea to get the filly all agitated right before feeding time.

“It’s not good to overhandle a motherless young one,” she said.

Like he’d asked her. Who did she think she was, anyhow?

“So what are you doing in there?”

She didn’t answer.

He walked up to the door and looked into the stall. The foal wasn’t running around all over, looking to jump over the wall the way she sometimes did or trying to hide in the corner. She was getting to trust people enough to be curious about them. First thing, Buck and Teddy had put a little halter with a sawed-off rope on it so they could catch her.

“I hope y’all are being as firm with her as her mama would be,” Clea said, holding out her hand to be sniffed as the foal approached her. “It’ll ruin her if you treat her like a puppy dog and let her be disrespectful. Even now. As little as she is.”

“What’re you talking about? Are you a veterinarian or something?”

Of course not. Her type of woman wasn’t tough enough to get through veterinary school.

The baby snuffed up Clea’s scent, then turned away. With the next breath, she slapped her ears flat against her head, whirled like a rocket and kicked out behind. Clea was quick but not quick enough and the filly hit her a glancing blow with both feet.

Clea squealed and lunged like a maniac for that little scrap of rope. She grabbed it in one hand and proceeded to hold the little thing while she spanked the tar out of her with the other hand.

The foal tried to get away but Clea wouldn’t let her. She spanked her all over the butt and sides.

“Hey, now, wait a minute here,” Jake said, diving for the door to stop the fight before blood flew. “What’s the matter with you? Good God, woman, this filly’s barely alive and—”

“And you’d better…get a companion…for her before she grows into a…little monster,” Clea said, between slaps.

Jake jerked the latch open and stepped in, reaching for the rope.

“You can leave now,” he said. “I’m sorry she kicked you. Are you hurt?”

Clea stopped spanking but she held on to the rope. The filly looked at her and Clea returned the look, both of them breathing hard.

“You’ve probably…been spending…too much time with her,” she said. “Handling her too much.”

“Well, then, we can thank our lucky stars that you’ve come to set us straight,” he said.

Sarcasm didn’t faze her.

“Have y’all been trying to pet her and play with her? She’s got to learn that people have to be the boss.”

Her calm, superior tone made his blood boil. “You some kind of expert?” he asked.

“You know all about orphan foals? Wild-horse orphan foals?”

“Horses are horses,” she said. “The wildness is in her bones and, if you think about it, it’s in the domesticated ones, too. They’re all born knowing that they’re prey, so we have to earn their trust.”

“And so you do it by slapping her around?”

“And their respect,” she said. “Her mother or any other horse would’ve been a lot rougher on her. She has to learn her manners.

“Come on,” Clea said and marched out of the stall, motioning for him to follow.

That surprised him. And irritated him even more. But he went, so the filly could think about her lesson.

And so he wouldn’t be trapped in there for Clea to stand in the hall blocking the door while she gave him more lectures on the nature of horses.

He walked past her and went into Sugar’s stall, which was next to the foal’s, and started saddling.

Clea said, “You were shocked at what I did, but you would’ve done the same to a bigger horse.”

“You said it yourself—a bigger horse,” he snapped. “I’m not one to beat up on something smaller than me.”

“Her mother would’ve bitten a chunk out of her. You all can halterbreak this baby, teach her to lead, maybe brush on her a little, but after that let her alone.”

This woman made him so mad he could hardly see straight.

“Get another foal in here for her to grow up with,” she said. “More than one if you can. It’ll make all the difference for her for the rest of her life, because then she’ll know how to fit in.”

He’d planned to ignore her until she gave up and went away. He’d decided not to argue with her. But he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“One orphan baby is all we can handle around here.”

“She needs to be with other horses so she can learn how the world works and how to find her place in the pecking order.”

“When she’s a little bigger I’ll put her out with the using horses.”

“She needs something her own size. So she can see when her companion’s getting ready to kick or bite. So she can learn the body language that she’ll need to read her whole life.”

He rolled his eyes. “Anything else, professor?”

“Yes. So she’ll be more athletic, quicker, more prepared to get out of danger or avoid it. Older, bigger horses tend to be too indulgent with a foal. Even stud horses.”

He started pulling up the latigo on his saddle.

“When you do put her out, don’t put her with a whole herd all at once. Just do it one horse at a time.”

“Sounds like you know everything there is to know about this deal,” he said dryly.

She shrugged. “You just have to let them learn to be real horses. They’re social animals.”

He could not talk to her. He would ignore her. As long as he talked to her, she’d stay here aggravating him.

But curiosity got the best of him. All this confidence and knowledge was such a contradiction to the way she looked and acted about everything else.

“How’d you come to know so much about orphans?”

“I’ve raised three of them since I was a kid,” she said, leaning back against the stall wall and crossing her arms beneath her gorgeous breasts as if settling in to tell him her life’s story. “The first one I did all wrong, but the other two turned out great.”

So maybe she wasn’t a total incompetent, after all.

But he didn’t want her getting all wrapped up in this foal and coming over here all the time to tell him what to do with it. Or asking him how to start her life over in new places. He did not need somebody else driving him crazy and sucking his energy.

Not when he was just getting over Victoria. This woman was probably divorced, too. Had to be, since she wasn’t used to being free and on her own.

He finished cinching the saddle and slipped the bridle on.

The old guys would be here in a minute with the feed and then Clea would be their problem. From now on he would be keeping to himself.

He buckled the bridle and led Sugar out into the aisle. He moved past Clea with a backward glance at her feet, which had shavings clinging to her high heels. “A barn’s no place for those shoes.”

She snapped back, “I happened to be on my way to town when I saw the snake. Which seems like a hundred years ago instead of an hour.”

He could tell by the sound of her voice that she was following him.

He threw an answer back over his shoulder. “Maybe that’s because we coulda gone to Canada in the time it took you to back out to the road.”

Silence. He led Sugar on out of the barn and stopped to get on her.

Clea walked out into the sunlight. It turned her hair into a halo.

“Why’d you let me do that?” she asked. “Any other man would’ve tried harder to make me get out of the driver’s seat. Why didn’t you?” He looped the reins into place in front of the saddle and stepped back to mount. But before he stuck his toe in the stirrup, he looked her in the eye.

Any other man. Yeah. She probably had a dozen of them after her all the time. Somehow that thought irritated him even more.

“It’s not up to me to let you do anything. Or to try to make you do anything. I’m not in charge of you. I’ve already got way more on my plate right now than I ever wanted, and I sure as hell don’t want to be responsible for one more living, breathing thing.”

Her blue eyes sparked with temper. “You really think a lot of yourself, don’t you, Jake Hawthorne? Well, you can rest easy. I’m not trying to attach myself to you—all I came in here for was to see the wild-horse baby. I can take care of myself.”

“No, you can’t. You’re a woman alone looking at wintering in Montana and you don’t have a clue how to survive.”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m your closest neighbor under the age of seventy.”

“So what?”

“I would never refuse to help a neighbor. Or a woman. Or anybody weaker than I am. But I’ve got a job. I don’t have time to take you to raise.”

“Nobody’s asking you to. Nobody will ever ask you to take care of me. You’re jumping to the conclusion that I’m helpless based on nothing except the fact that I’m not very good at backing a trailer. Is that stupid, or what?”

“And based on the fact that you’re used to having a man take care of you and buy you fox-fur vests and fully loaded trucks and trailers. Hired hands, too, to wash your dishes and build your fires and carry out your trash, and horse psychologists to teach you about your orphan foals.”