Ain't No Angel (16 page)

Strands of Laney’s hair had come loose from her customary ribbon, and Tyler fought the urge to run his fingers through her golden mane. He took a step closer, and his free hand reached for Laney’s waist.

Her eyes widened even more, and her arm tensed. She tried to pull free of his grasp. Tyler frowned. Why was she acting so uncharacteristically nervous? Her constantly changing behavior confused the hell out of him. She’d switched from being flirty on several occasions, to compliant and downright dreary, and now, she seemed as if she didn’t want anything to do with him. What happened to the playful girl who’d challenged him to a race on the day they went to see the broodmares and Rap?

Laney scoffed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Riding alone didn’t seem to matter before. I don’t go far, Tyler. I just need to get out of the house now and then. ” She pulled her arm back, and Tyler reluctantly released her. “What I don’t need is a babysitter to go riding. I don’t see why I can’t go out on my own.”

Tyler inhaled a deep breath. He studied her face. Her eyes darted from him to her hand and back to him. There was something she wasn’t telling him.  “I told you. I don’t want something to happen to you. What if you get thrown?”

Laney glared at him for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she threw her hands in the air, and expelled a loud breath. “Fine. I won’t go riding again on my own, if that’ll make you happy.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t believe her abrupt change in attitude, or that she would be this agreeable so quickly any more than he believed that she was a quiet and compliant woman. 

She moved to turn toward the house, then stopped and faced him fully, as if she just remembered something. “I really need to go to town, Tyler. When can you take me?” Her tone was clipped.

Tyler’s gaze roamed her face. The soft, content look he’d become accustomed to, the glow of happiness that had shone with such vigor in her eyes when she raced the chestnut filly across the meadow a week ago, was gone. Instead, a defeated look, something that reminded him of a reluctant young horse that had finally given up the fight for freedom, stared back at him. Tyler swore under his breath.

 “I’ll take you into town tomorrow. There are no dress shops, but there is a seamstress. Like Widow Hansen said, you could use some new gowns. You can have as many new dresses made as you want.”

Laney laughed. “I don’t want any dresses, Tyler. What I really want is-” She cut off what she wanted to say, and sniffed the air, then abruptly turned on her heels and dashed up the porch to the house. “Crap,” she yelled loudly. “The roast.”

Tyler glanced after her. What the hell was going on now? No sooner had the question entered his mind, when he breathed in the acrid smell of something burning. He rushed after Laney through the front door, and was immediately enveloped by a haze of smoke.

“What the hell,” he called, waving his hand in front of his face, squinting. Was the house on fire?

Laney coughed loudly from the kitchen. “Ouch,” she called, and the curse words that followed would have put his wranglers to shame. Thick gray smoke drifted from the alcove.

“Laney,” Tyler shouted, and ran toward the kitchen. His eyes stung, and he held his arm over his mouth, coughing as his lungs filled with smoke. He squinted to see Laney bent over the stove. In two quick steps, he was at her side, and pushed her out of the way.

“Dinner’s burned,” she choked out between fits of coughing and gasps for air.

Tyler yanked a rag from the counter and pulled the oven door open. A veil of black smoke escaped, blinding him momentarily. He reached in and pulled the pot out of the oven, tossing it into the washbasin. A black, charred piece of – what he could only surmise must have been a large piece of meat at some point – smoldered in the cast iron. Quickly, he pumped the handle of the water pump, and doused the smoldering briquette. Hissing and sputtering, the contents of the pot erupted in a cloud of steam.

Tyler rushed to the window, pushed it open, then grabbed Laney’s arm and dragged her back outside. They both gasped for breath when Tyler shoved her onto the porch.

“I didn’t know a little piece of meat could produce that much smoke,” Laney sputtered. Tyler grinned. Her first attempt at cooking was obviously a failure. They could both have a good chuckle over it later.

She rubbed the tears from her eyes, leaving a streak of dark soot on her cheek. Was she crying, or were these simply tears from the smoke? She glanced up at him, and her bottom lip quivered. Warmth doused him at that moment, and the smile on his face faded.

Laney turned away from him. “I can’t seem to do anything right here,” she mumbled, then coughed again.

Tyler reached for her arm, and she spun around to face him. He didn’t give her a chance to pull away from him. He stepped up close to her, and wrapped his arm around her waist. With his thumb, he brushed at the black streak on her face.

“You were distracted. It can happen to anyone,” he said quietly, his eyes locked on hers.

She sniffled, and averted her gaze. She stood stiffly in his embrace, and her hands braced against his chest without pushing him away.

“The first meal I try and cook, and look what happened,” she huffed.

Tyler lifted her chin with his fingers. “We can eat Eddie’s beans one more night, can’t we?” His lips twitched in a smile. “Next time, I won’t keep you from your task. This was my fault.”

Laney stared up at him. Her forehead wrinkled, and her pained eyes roamed over his face. What was going through her mind? Disbelief, pain, indecision. One emotion after another flooded her blue pools. At this moment, she looked utterly lost and vulnerable. Tyler’s chest tightened. A deluge of warm sensations raced through him, and he drew her closer. She felt so right in his arms. Laney tensed.

Slowly, Tyler lowered his head. Without hesitation, he covered her mouth with his. His heart leapt to life within his chest the moment his lips touched hers. His arms tightened around her, and he gathered her closer still. She was so soft and sweet. A moan rumbled in his throat, and he deepened the kiss.

Laney didn’t resist. Her arms inched up and crept around his neck, and Tyler was sure his heart would explode within him. She molded her body to his, and a soft sigh escaped her mouth. Tyler whispered her name against her lips. She was meant to be right here, in his arms. She was his wife, and the emotions he tried to deny and even fight off were more real to him than anything he’d ever felt. 

Tyler’s fingers entwined in her hair, his hand cradling the back of her head as he held her to him, savoring the tender sensation of her lips against his. He drew back slightly to catch his breath, and Laney abruptly pulled away from him. Reluctantly, he released his tight hold around her waist. He already missed the feel of her in his arms. Her chest heaved, and she backed away.

“Laney, I know I told you I want to court you proper,” Tyler said slowly, and cleared his throat. He had no idea what to say to tell her that he cared for her. Hell, it was more than just a feeling of fondness. He was falling in love with his wife, and despite his father’s warnings, he didn’t want these feelings to end. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t want to stop thinking about you.”

Wide-eyed, she stared up at him, and her head shook slightly. “I . . . I can’t do this, Tyler,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

Tyler frowned, and reached for her. She wasn’t ready to move to a more intimate relationship. “Can’t do what, Laney? You’re my wife. I want you to know that --”

“Tyler,” the frantic voice of one of his wranglers called to him from behind. Tyler cursed under his breath.

Chapter 16

Tyler released Laney’s hand and she pulled her arm back as if his touch had burned her. He forced his eyes away from her to look toward Beau, who came loping up the path from the barns.

The man scratched at the back of his neck and adjusted his cowboy hat. He ran his hand over his face to cover his obvious embarrassment at his interruption.

“Sorry, Ty,” he mumbled, his eyes darting from Laney to him.

“What is it, Beau?” Tyler asked impatiently. Dammit. Every time he wanted to get close to Laney, something else came up. These interruptions were getting downright bothersome.

 “A few of the colts we brought in last week . . . I think they’re sick.”

An icy chill raced down Tyler’s spine. The image of a dead yearling in Ian Frazier’s wagon popped into his mind. The headcount he’d done that day with Laney had proven that it wasn’t his colt. All of his yearlings were accounted for.

“What do you mean, sick?” He leapt off the porch to meet his wrangler.

“Gabe told me to come fetch you. He says to tell you he’s sorry to bother you, but a few of the colts are hacking and coughing something fierce. It started early this morning, and is only getting worse. The gray seems to be in bad shape.”

“Damn.” Tyler ran a hand over his face. “Why didn’t Gabe come and find me earlier?” he wondered out loud.

“He thought maybe it was just the dust in the air, and them being so close together in the holding pen. Gabe’s got the worst of them in the new barn.”

Tyler glanced at Laney, who’d come up beside him. Her forehead wrinkled in a worried frown. He studied her face for a moment, the concern in her eyes twisting his insides. He wished Beau wasn’t standing right there or he would have pulled her to him and kissed her again. Her look once again proved that the horses were important to her. Tyler tore his eyes away from his wife, and headed for the newly built barn that was supposed to house some of his stock over the winter.

“I’m coming with you.” Laney fell in step beside him, running to keep up with his long strides.

Tyler reached for her hand, and she didn’t pull away. He gave it a gentle squeeze and offered her a smile. She held his gaze, but there was a pained look in her eyes, something close to regret. He didn’t have time to contemplate her odd mood, but he made a mental note to ask her later.

They passed the main barn and corrals, and he cast a quick look at several of the pens that held some of his three-year-olds. Most of them munched contently on their hay on the ground, while others stood, head to tail, dozing in the late afternoon sun. The freshly caught bunch of two-year-olds had been moved to a larger paddock that skirted the property behind the new barn.

“Gabe?” Tyler called before he reached the barn, and pushed the wide wooden doors open. The smell of pine tar and turpentine infused the air. Sammy and Eddie stood outside one of the stalls, looking in. Both their heads turned toward him simultaneously. Straw rustled softly as several horses milled about in their individual stalls. Several of the animals wheezed and gave short, bark-like coughs.

Gabe’s head emerged from one of the end stalls. The gray colt stood beside him, his head drooping nearly to the ground.

“Sorry to bring you bad news, Ty.” Gabe opened the stall gate and stepped into the aisle. He reached for a tin pail that Eddie held out to him. “Some of these colts had runny noses yesterday, and I didn’t think much of it. Thought it might have been some dust in the hay. This morning, they’ve all got thick snot coming out their nostrils, and, as you can hear, they’re coughing pretty bad. They’ve all got fevers, and are off their feed.”

Tyler glanced at the colt behind Gabe. The animal’s eyes were glazed and held half-open, and his flanks looked sunken in. Why this colt in particular, the one horse he hoped would someday replace Rap as his breeding stallion? First Rap had problems, and now he was staring at losing this colt. What the hell was causing this sickness that seemed to spread like wildfire? Whatever had gotten hold of Ian’s horses had obviously reached his animals.

“What is that awful smell?” Laney asked, her nose wrinkled. “You need to get these barn doors opened and let some air in here, Tyler. It smells like turpentine.” She shot him a puzzled look, then stepped toward the gray’s stall. “Looks like you have a flu outbreak going on.”

Tyler stared at her.
A what outbreak?
He glanced toward Gabe, whose eyebrows shot up. Gabe shrugged, gave Laney a fleeting glance of dismissal, and moved past her back into the stall.

“Hold this colt, Eddie,” Gabe said, handing the lead rope tied to the colt’s halter to the other wrangler. “He’s not going to like this.”

Laney stepped closer to the stall, and peered over the door.  Her eyes widened. “What are you doing to that horse?” she called out in alarm. She pulled the door open and rushed inside, yanking the lead rope out of Eddie’s hand.

Tyler followed her into the crowded stall. What had gotten into her? Gabe knelt by the colt’s legs, a paintbrush in one hand, the pail with the pine tar concoction in the other. Gabe stared up at her, his eyes narrowed. He stood slowly, and smirked.

“Ty, you’d better get your wife out of here. This ain’t something she should be watching.”

“No one is going to make me leave this stall,” Laney retorted heatedly before Tyler had a chance to speak. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin, staring Gabe in the eye. She stepped boldly between the foreman and the sick horse.

“Ty, I’m trying to blister this colt’s legs so I can hopefully save his life.” Gabe turned to Tyler, a look of annoyance on his face.

Tyler stared from his foreman to Laney. If the current situation wasn’t so grim, he could almost laugh out loud at the scene. Admiration for Laney swelled in his heart. His wife’s head barely reached past Gabe’s shoulders, yet she stood unyielding in front of him. Something told him she was finally displaying her true nature, the woman who had caught his attention when he first laid eyes on her the day she stepped off the stage. This was the side of his wife he was really drawn to, not the compliant little mouse she’d been over the last week.  Why was she so adamant? Blistering was a well-known, common practice to draw diseased serum from a sick horse.

“Are you insane?” Laney yelled in a high-pitched voice. Her hands shot to her hips just before her incredulous stare pierced Tyler’s face. “Tyler, this is barbaric. How can you allow something like this?”

Gabe scoffed. “You should stay away from things you don’t know anything about,
Mrs
. Monroe, and get back to the things you’re good at.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed on his foreman, and he took a step forward. He glared at Gabe. If Laney hadn’t been standing right here, his fist would have connected with his foreman’s jaw. Gabe’s insinuations were plain as day to him. Apparently, his most recent warning for Gabe to be respectful to his wife had gone unheeded.

 “Put the pine tar away, Gabe,” Tyler said in a low voice. “I want to hear what Laney has to say.” Seconds passed while Gabe stared at him. Finally, his lips widened in a grin.

“Sure, Ty.” Gabe shook his head, an indulgent smirk on his face.  “I’ll be right outside to finish this after you talk some sense into your wife.”

Laney’s gaze shot from Gabe to Tyler. A grateful look passed through her eyes, then she quickly turned to the colt. Gabe, Eddie, and Sammy stood outside the stall. Sammy and Eddie exchanged perplexed looks. Tyler didn’t know what had compelled him at that moment to stop Gabe from blistering to the colt. Something in Laney’s unyielding voice and demeanor, in her pleading eyes, convinced him to hear her out. Her unusual knowledge of horses had him intrigued, and she’d given this illness a name already.

Laney ran her hand along the colt’s neck, and felt under his throat. The animal gave a weak cough and snort, spewing green phlegm from his nostrils. She turned back to face him.

“This colt has the flu, like I said. Any idiot can see that.” She glared toward Gabe. Tyler no longer held back his smile. His little wife was displaying her feisty side, and she wasn’t backing down. His insides warmed. She defended the horses as a mother would defend a child.

“Flu? What the hell is that? I ain’t never heard of it,” Gabe sniggered.

“You’ve seen this before?” Tyler stepped closer to her. Laney met his stare. She looked ready to do battle with him.

“Yes, and it’s very contagious. I wouldn’t be surprised if more of your horses don’t catch it.”

“What is flu?” Tyler asked, wanting to understand her.

Laney’s forehead wrinkled, a dumbfounded expression on her face. “You know . . . the flu . . . equine influenza. Just like people can get the flu, so do horses.”

“The grippe?” Gabe laughed from outside the stall.  “You’re saying these horses have the grippe?”

Laney glared back at him. “I don’t know what that is, but where I come from, we call it influenza . . . flu for short, and it’s definitely not treated by blistering. Why would you want to make these horses suffer even more than they already are? That’s just the most archaic, stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“How do you treat it?” Tyler asked quickly. The dead colt at Ian’s place popped into his mind again. If his and Ian’s horses suffered from an influenza outbreak, it could have devastating consequences, assuming it was as deadly as it was in people. He’d never heard of the illness in horses, and he was only vaguely familiar with the symptoms of the grippe in people. A neighboring community had suffered an outbreak several years ago, and many of the townsfolk had died.

  “There was a colt at Ian’s place last week that had the same symptoms before it died,” he said slowly. “He’s lost several foals since then.” Tyler frowned. Where had this sick animal come from? Anger surged in him. There would be hell to pay when he found the owner of that dead colt.

“Then I suggest you tell Ian that he’d better keep an eye out for his horses. If any of them drink the same water, or eat from the same feed barrel, they’ll be exposed,” Laney said firmly.

Tyler recalled watering the horse he rode to Ian’s place at the trough in Ian’s yard. Was that how he had brought the illness back to his ranch? He cursed under his breath. The saddle horse wasn’t infected, as near as he could tell. He appeared well when he rode him the day before. He’d ridden Charlie to Ian’s ranch this morning. Damn.

“If you’ve seen this before, how is it treated?” Tyler’s admiration for his wife grew. Where had she learned so much about horses? The women he knew, even the rancher’s wives, simply didn’t pay that much attention to what was always deemed as men’s business.

Laney glanced from him to the wranglers standing outside the stall. “Well, you have to keep the sick horses away from the healthy ones. Don’t share feed or water buckets, bridles, anything. Everything you touch needs to be disinfected. There’s really no treatment. It has to run its course.” She stopped to gape at him. “Where I’m from, it would have been easier to prevent with . . .” She shook her head and her eyes widened as if she’d said too much.

Prevent with what?
Tyler didn’t have a chance to ask.

 “Keep them warm and comfortable, and hope for the best. Try and get them to drink and eat, even if you have to force water into them. The best thing to do is make sure it doesn’t spread.” She turned her head to the gray colt. “I’m worried he might have pneumonia, with all that nasal discharge. We’ll have to watch him closely.”

“I still say draw the diseased serum out of him. Blistering is a sure-fire way to rid horses of their ailments,” Gabe said.

Tyler didn’t know what to think. His foreman was a knowledgeable horseman, and he himself would have opted for the treatment Gabe suggested. Laney’s firm conviction in what she said gave him pause even if some of her unfamiliar words were downright perplexing. How she knew all of these things was a question he’d ask later.

“Gabe, I’m gonna ride out to Ian’s place first thing in the morning, and tell him to inspect all his horses, and to separate the sick ones. I want you to do a thorough inspection of our stock. Any horse that so much as sneezes gets separated from the others. For now, hold off on the pine tar.”