Counterfeit Cowboy (17 page)

“Whoa!”

“Pull him around into a circle!” Shelby thundered close behind him.

He made the effort, but the horse skidded, reared, bucked. The next instant Jordan was flying through the air. He landed with a thump that knocked the breath from his body and hurt one buttock like hell.

“Jordan, are you all right?” Shelby had leaped from her horse and was dropping on one knee beside him.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess so.” He struggled up on one elbow. “But I’m pretty sure that will leave a mark.” He eased onto his good hip and rubbed the other.

“That was entirely my fault.” Concern wrinkled her forehead. “I never should have started a lope in the lead. I forgot Brandy gets into race horse mode when he feels challenged. Do you think you can get up?”

“Sure, sure.” With her dragging on his arm, he struggled to his feet and was relieved to find he really could stand, that nothing appeared to be broken.

“Do you think you can ride Fancy back to the farm? It’s quite a walk. If you don’t think you can, I’ll ride back and get the truck. The trail is wide enough for me to drive it in here.”

“What kind of a cowboy would I be if I had to get driven back from a cattle drive?” He grinned down at her. “Falling off is all part of the learning process, isn’t it? What’s the old saying about having to get right back on a horse after you fall off? I’m getting back on that guy and show him he can’t toss me around.”

“Well, then, good.” He saw something he hoped was respect in her expression. “That’s the true cowboy spirit.”

“So you’re saying that maybe I am getting the hang of it?”

“That’s what I’m saying, cowboy.” And she smiled.

Way to go, man. She’s impressed. But doesn’t the cowboy always get the girl?

“Okay, let’s see if I can live up to your standards.” He headed toward where Brandy, head lowered, was peacefully cropping grass.

“Okay, kid, this it.” He gathered up the dragging reins. As the horse threw up his head in protest, he brought him up short. “That’s enough of that. You and I are going to head back to the farm, and you’re going to behave, hear me?”

The gelding snorted, shook his head with a jingling of his bit, and began to prance.

“Hey, none of that.” Jordan hoped he sounded a whole lot more in charge and confident than he felt. His jelly knees weren’t helping, but he fitted his boot into the stirrup and swung himself up, this time remembering to keep the far rein taut.

“Now.” He turned the animal toward the farm. “Let’s go…at a reasonable speed and with no nonsense involved.” He nudged with his knees, and Midnight Brandy started off at a sedate walk.

“Great!” Shelby swung onto Fancy and trotted to come up beside him. “You’ve got him listening.”

“But no more races, okay? I’ve only got one cheek left unmarred, and I’d like to keep it pristine.”

“Agreed. It would be a shame to mess up such treasures of the entertainment business.” He caught the teasing smirk she slanted over at him. “And I’d hate to be sued for allowing something like that to happen.”

Damn it, he enjoyed the woman. She was bright and funny and kind and beautiful. What more could a man want?

That she wanted him.

****

They’d put the horses away and were heading up to the house when a car careened off the highway and into the drive. It braked to a dust-raising halt at the house and a man wearing shorts and a T-shirt jumped out. He started for the porch steps at a run. Then, seeing Shelby and Jordan, he turned and ran toward them.

“My little girl’s dog has been hit by a car! He’s in the back seat!”

Shelby broke into a run and Jordan followed. The man was sweating, his complexion a grey-white.

Shelby caught him by the arm. “I’m Doctor Masters. I’ll see if I can help.”

****

“Tea?” Jordan offered the cup to the man who’d identified himself as Mike Cooper as he waited in a chair on the verandah for Shelby to finish her examination. “Hot and sweet. Just the thing for shock.”

He hesitated, then took the mug. “Thanks. I could go for a strong drink, but this is probably better.”

“Dr. Masters is a good vet.” Jordan sat down in a nearby wicker chair. “If anyone can save the little dog, it’s her.”

“Have you got children?” Mike looked over at him, his complexion grey.

“Kind of. I have four I’m responsible for.”

“Guardian?”

“You could say that.”

“Then you can maybe understand. We were staying at the campsite just down the road. We’re from the city, and Scruffy doesn’t get many opportunities to run free. We thought it would be safe to let him go for a bit. But the driver of a car entering the area didn’t see him, and…”

“I’m sorry. But since it happened, Scruffy is fortunate to have been near a great vet. Shelby will know what’s best to do.”

Fifteen minutes later she rejoined Jordan and the man on the porch.

“Oh God, please tell me Scruffy will be okay.” Mike Cooper jumped to his feet. “My daughter has cerebral palsy. That dog means the world to her.”

“I can’t make any promises. I’ll have to operate immediately. There may be internal bleeding. And I’ll need help. Usually my brother acts as my assistant, but he’s in town on an errand. Jake, you’ll have to fill in.”

“Me?” Jordan stood and felt a weird sensation—what he assumed to be the blood draining from his head. “I’m just a farm hand, Doc. I’ve never…”

“Well, you will now.” She turned and headed back into the clinic.

“Please.” When Jordan hesitated, Mike Cooper stood and put a shaking hand on his arm. “For Scruffy. For Mindy.”

“Okay.” Jordan sucked in his breath, hoped to heaven he didn’t pass out or upchuck during the surgery, and followed Shelby into her office and on through into her small operating room.

“Shelby, I don’t know if I can do this,” he hissed as they entered the room where the little dog lay unconscious on the operating table. “I’ve never assisted in any medical procedure.”

“Well, you have to now, no choice.” She turned to him, eyes steely hard with determination. “There’s a smock and gloves over there. And put a cap over your hair. I’m going to give you a crash course in being a medical assistant.”

****

Forty-five minutes later, Scruffy lay in a padded basket in a corner of Shelby’s surgery. He was still unconscious and now swathed in bandages about his middle, but Shelby said his vital signs were strong and everything looked good for a full recovery. Jordan pulled off his bloodstained latex gloves and smock, jerked the cap from his head, and fell back against a door jamb, drained of energy.

“How do you do that kind of thing day after day?” he asked as she sat at her desk filling out a report on the dog. “Took the stuffing out of me, I can tell you.”

“You’d get used to it.” She continued to write. “But just for the record, you did great in there…for a novice.” She shot him a sideways glance and smiled. All the applause and cheers in the biggest venues he’d ever played couldn’t have meant more. “Now let’s go and give Mr. Cooper the good news.”

After the man had driven away with the awakening little dog in the back seat, Shelby went back into her surgery to tidy up, and Jordan headed on down to the barn to work.

When he’d finished mucking out the stalls, he sat down on an upturned bucket near the door and leaned back against the rough plank wall.

She’s right. I am a phony. After seeing her at work today, I realize that no way can I compete with what she and Travis do day in and day out. Singing and dancing on a stage is small potatoes by comparison. She deserves someone strong and real. Someone like that Crowell guy.

****

“Are you sure you can handle babysitting this place?” Shelby stepped into the kitchen.

Jordan turned from the sink, drinking a glass of water. And choked. Dr. Shelby Masters—in a short electric-blue dress of some satiny material that clung in all the right places, spaghetti straps holding it but low enough to reveal a bit of eye-boggling cleavage—stood in the doorway, smiling. Her chestnut curls were piled on top of her head, silver ear loops glittering below.

“Careful, big fella.” She moved across the room on strappy six-inch stilettos to pat him on the back. “You’d think you never saw a woman decked out to go to a wedding.” She grinned provocatively up at him.

“Yeah, well, this is the first time I’ve seen you decked out for one.” He struggled to regain his cool.

“So?” She spun around. “What’s the opinion of a man who’s had women of all shapes and sizes throwing themselves at him?”

“Not true, but Jake Banks’s opinion is…nice, yeah, very nice.”

“Thank you.” The words were pert and coy. She plucked a matching blue jacket from a chair back. “For the church service,” she explained shrugging into it. “The rest is for the dance later.”

“Well, have fun. Even with Travis off playing a gig, you can rest assured Ebony Farm is in responsible hands.”

The sound of a car gunning into the yard made him turn to the window. It braked to a stop at the steps.

“Crowell’s here.” He saw that the man in the ivory-colored SUV was wearing a white shirt, tie, and dark suit as he swung out of the vehicle. “All dolled up, too.”

“You knew he asked me to be his date at his cousin’s wedding.”

“And you needed someone to fork hay and manure while you’re gone.” His voice reflected what his mother would have called peevishness.

“Well, that is your job.”

“Hey, Shel, you ready?” Andy Crowell pulled open the screen door. “Don’t want to walk up the aisle with the bride, now, do we? Hey, Jake, how’re ya doin’, buddy?”

“Fine, just fine.”
Damn it, stop it, just stop it. Stop sounding like a kid not allowed to go to the circus. But why does this Crowell have to clean up so nice?

“Glad to hear it. Come on, babe, let’s hit the road. Maybe this wedding will give you some ideas.” He slipped an arm around Shelby’s waist and propelled her out the door.

“Don’t forget to give that new mare her medication,” she called back over her shoulder. “And don’t let Brandy near Midnight Black or you’ll have a major fight on your hands. Remember, if there’s a medical emergency, I’ll be at the church up the road, and later in the hall behind it for the dinner and dance.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” The door slammed on his words. Going to the window, he watched them drive away, Shelby’s face bright with laughter at something her escort had said.

She doesn’t want you, pal, you and your four kids. And you’ve admitted you’re not good enough for her. Get that through your head and accept the fact that she’s free to like any guy she chooses.

He spun away from the view and headed for the refrigerator. A cold beer was what he needed. Maybe even two or three.

In the distance, thunder rolled. The heat was about to break out into another summer storm.

****

He was starting his second longneck when Travis stopped the farm truck at the porch steps and bounded into the kitchen out of the pouring rain with its flashes of lightning.

“Hey, Jake, I tried some of those chords you suggested, and they worked out great… What’s wrong?” He stopped short.

“Your sister has gone to a wedding with your neighbor.” Jordan wasn’t in the mood for wasting preliminaries on beating around the bush.

“Yeah, so?” Travis headed for the refrigerator and took out a beer.

“Take it easy on that stuff, okay?” Jordan couldn’t prevent himself from admonishing as her brother sat down opposite him.

“Hey, how stupid do you think I am? After that major hangover on my birthday, I’ve wised up. I’m just thinking it will be easier for you to tell me what’s eating you if we’re kind of drinking buddies.” He ducked his head shyly and slanted Jordan a grin that the singer knew would melt any woman’s heart. The kid had what it took.

“Okay, since you’re proving yourself to be a prudent man when it comes to alcohol, I guess I can trust you with the truth.” Jordan took a long pull on his beer before continuing. “I’ve got a thing for your sister.”

“Yeah? No shit, Jake…Jordan. Cool. You and Shel! Great.”

“Not so great. I have a career and an obligation to my band that won’t allow me to quit, and your sister has an obligation to this farm that she won’t give up. There’s no way it will work.”

“But if you guys are in love…”

“Hold on, young fella. Nobody said anything about love. Just an attraction and a whole lot of liking.”

“Yeah, well, I’d say that’s a big part of it.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

He stared at his thumb tracing patterns on the sweat coating the bottle in his hand.

“Hell, Jordan, it sure is. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise what?” His forehead furrowed at he looked over at the younger man.

“Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here nursing a beer, so green with jealousy you look like a Christmas tree just because Shel went to a wedding with Andy Crowell.”

“Green with jealousy! You’re nuts, my man.”

He shoved back his chair with a scraping that made Travis flinch and headed for the refrigerator for another beer.

“Take it easy on that stuff.” Travis got up, grinning. “Remember you’re on duty, Jake.”

“Not any more. Boss Number Two is back. What happened? I thought you had a gig.”

“Yeah, well, that fell through. We were hired to play that wedding Shel went to, but at the last minute they decided on a DJ. Cheaper, I guess. Damn, it’s tough, Jake.” Travis clutched his beer and stared at it, shaking his head. “The other guys in the band don’t mind so much. They don’t take it serious, like I do.”

And they definitely lack your talent
. The thought flashed across his mind.

“I know you do.” He couldn’t help admiring the kid. Here he was with the number one country-western music star living on his farm, and he’d never once suggested Jordan do anything to advance his career. Now he had an idea.

“How’d you like to play with my band for a change? Just once, mind you, to let you know how it feels to have a good sound system backing you up?”

“No shit, Jordan?” Jordan thought Travis’s eyes would pop out of his head.

“No shit. The guys are staying with my bus driver and his wife at their cottage near Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. I can have them meet us in Moncton—it’s about half way between here and there, I’d guess—and arrange for a place to play in private. What do you say?”