Cowboys are Forever (6 page)

A few days later—taking a break from cleaning and setting her little house in order, which she had decided needed to be done before anything else on the ranch—Marielle watched as Trey unloaded the horses from a covered trailer, backing each one out slowly. They were beautiful, she thought. A bay and a palomino. The late afternoon sun burnished their sleek, shining coats and played across the rippling muscles of the two animals Trey led toward her. Beautiful, she thought again with a flicker of disquiet as they came closer, but big. Really big!

She didn’t recall the horse she’d ridden as a child being quite so large. She glanced at Trey. He gave her a speculative look.

“What do you think?” he asked, tying the lead rope of each horse to the picket fence.

“They’re magnificent,” Marielle said brightly determined to hide her uneasiness. “What are their names?”

Trey shrugged. “You can call them whatever you want to.” He flashed a smile at Marielle and she felt her pulse accelerate. Lord, he was good-looking! She’d bet that he could be a charmer when he wanted to. “I’ve brought some feed over,” he continued. “Let’s get a stall ready for them and then I’ll show you how much to feed them every day.” Leaving the horses hitched to the fence, he set out toward the barn. Marielle followed, hurrying to keep up.

She realized that the way he moved was deceptive. Although he seemed to walk with an easy, languid grade, he covered the ground swiftly in long strides. He looked just plain terrific in faded jeans.

She stifled a giggle and reminded herself that she didn’t need to be admiring his cute tush or long, muscular legs. Even if she had time for romance right now, which she didn’t, he wasn’t her type. Trey was definitely an alpha male. She preferred beta males.
Like Derek?
queried a small inner voice. Derek, the beta male who had dumped her for a bleached blond corporate attorney whose prospects looked brighter than an unemployed children’s book illustrator?

Okay, Okay, maybe not like Derek. Derek was a jerk in any letter of the Greek alphabet, she thought darkly. But not an all-out, chauvinistic alpha male like Trey.

Look at me now,
she chided herself silently,
trudging along behind Big Chief Trey like some downtrodden squaw in an old western movie
. She quickened her pace, determined not to bring up the rear in this demeaning fashion. This was worse, she decided. Now she felt like a toy poodle out for a walk with its master, trotting furiously to keep up.

Reaching the barn, Trey peered into some of the darkened stalls. “These will do,” he said. “You’ll need to add some fresh straw from time to time for bedding. But what’s already in here looks clean enough for now.”

Going back to where he’d hitched the horses, Marielle didn’t even make the effort to adjust her stride to his. She saw Trey glance back over his shoulder and to her surprise, he slowed his pace until she caught up with him.

“Sorry about that,” he said, treating her to one of his million-dollar smiles. “I didn’t mean to run and leave you. I spend so much time with the guys that I’m a little out of practice walking with a female.”

Marielle smiled back. Judging by the way he’d kissed her a few days ago—he wasn’t out of practice in other areas.

Trey stopped at the fence and untied one of the horses. “Here,” he said, handing the lead rope to Marielle. “You take this one and I’ll bring the bay.”

Marielle froze. She craned her neck, looking up at the big golden horse who stood placidly at the other end of the cotton rope. It stared back at her, unblinking. Its large, liquid brown eyes seemed to hold no malice. Still, she thought, it was so big, so powerful … What if it tried to run away? Or what if, God forbid, she did something unknowingly to make it mad.

She directed her gaze downwards and swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as cotton. Its hooves were big, too. Big and possibly dangerous.
For heaven’s sake, get a grip,
she upbraided herself silently. It was only a horse, not a rogue elephant. She looked up to see Trey watching her. A smile quirked the corners of his lips.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No, no … .er, nothing’s wrong,” she assured him, hoping he didn’t detect the slight quaver in her voice. She cleared her throat nervously. “We’ll just go down to the barn and … .into its room.”

“Stall, Marielle.” Trey reminder her gently. “The word is a stall.”

“Oh, yes, of course, I knew that,” she stammered, nodding. “Stall….” Then she stood there, rooted to the spot, as she realized that she had no idea how to get the thing to move. Lead it? Uh-uh. She didn’t like the sound of that. The horse had twice as many legs as she did. It was bound to walk faster. She didn’t want to be in its way and get stepped on. On the other hand, she thought uneasily, eyeing its muscular hindquarters, she really didn’t want to be behind it either. She glanced at Trey, wishing that he’d hurry up and start for the barn with the other horse. Then she could simply do whatever he did. Yeah, she told herself hopefully, that would work.

“Marielle, are you afraid of the horse?” Trey inquired. “Because if you are, you shouldn’t be. He’ll sense your fear and it will make him nervous.”

Marielle squelched the impulse to laugh. Make the
horse
nervous? Ha! It was her own nerves she was worried about. The horse was a big boy. He could fend for himself. She smiled at Trey, trying to appear brave. “Yes, I’ll admit that I’m a wee bit intimidated,” she confessed brightly. “They’re just so darned big, aren’t they? But I’ll be fine. If you’ll go on ahead, I’ll do what you do and bring him along,” she said, with more confidence than she felt.

Trey groaned aloud. “You’re shaking in your boots at the prospect of simply leading this horse to the barn and you honestly think that you’re cut out for this life?” He laughed shortly. “Wake up and smell the coffee, sweetheart. It’s not going to work.”

Marielle gritted her teeth. “It
is
going to work! So I don’t know much about horses yet. Big deal. I just got here. And you’ve called me crazy for wanting to stay here—well, let me tell you something, you’re crazy if you think I’m going to give up without even trying and run back to New York just like that!” She snapped her fingers loudly.

At the sudden noise, possible taking it as a signal to get going, the palomino bolted. Marielle, taken by surprise, hung on to the lead rope with both hands as the horse raced toward the barn.

“Whoa!” she cried. “Stop!” She dug in with her heels and leaned back, but knew that it was an exercise in futility to pit her weight against such a larger animal. She simply clung to the rope, not wanting to relinquish it and lose total control of the situation in front of Trey. Reaching the barn, the horse halted of its own accord and Marielle stood trembling, unsure what to do next.

Trey appeared at her side, looking anxious. “Are you okay, Mari?” he asked. “God, I’m sorry I smarted off to you like that. I really am. It was uncalled for. Sometimes I can be a real jackass and….” He paused and his gaze found hers. “Tell you what. Next time I say something like that, just haul off and slap me.”

Marielle stared back at him, drawn by the magnetism of his dark eyes. She forced herself to tear her gaze away. “All right,” she told him shakily. “Apology accepted and suggestion filed for future reference.”

Trey smiled. “You know what?” he asked, chuckling softly. “You might do all right up here after all.”

Marielle looked at him blankly.

“In fact, they should add a new event to the Olympics just for you,” he said, laughing. “Hell, I’ve seen some fine athletes, but” –he gestured to the twin furrows dug into the barnyard earth by Marielle’s heels—” this is the first time I’ve ever seen anybody water-ski on dry land.”

Trey wheeled into the drive leading to his house. From time to time, his mouth curved upwards in a smile as he thought about Marielle. She had a sense of humor, he’d give her credit for that.

She had spirit, too. Gutsy. He liked that. He still thought that her decision to live here in these mountains was somewhat misguided—but at least she had the courage to try.

Trey strolled into his house and helped himself to a cold drink from the refrigerator, then headed outside to the front porch, still thinking about his new neighbor.

Marielle had invited him inside for a glass of iced tea after they’d gotten the horses settled in, and he’d noticed a stack of magazines she had brought with her from New York—all publications dealing with farming, getting back to the land, and so forth. She said she had been collecting them for years.

But dreaming about getting back to the basics or reading articles about life in the slow lane w one thing. The actual day-to-day reality of it was something else entirely.

Trey knew that in the past few years there had been a growing movement toward getting back to the basics by people fed up with the corporate rat race and keeping up with the Joneses. People who yearned for a simpler lifestyle, who wanted to gear down and enjoy fresh air and sunshine, rely less on technology and superstores and know the satisfaction of providing for themselves with their own two hands.

He also knew that many of those folks couldn’t make it. In some cases, they probably started out with romanticized notions of rural life, and simply weren’t happy with the way it really was. Many he’d heard of had failed and were forced back to cities because they couldn’t make a living out in the middle of nowhere. The cold, hard truth was that no matter where or how a person lived, it took a certain amount of cold, hard cash.

He wondered what Marielle planned on using for income. Dan’s attorney, as the executor of the estate, had confided to Trey that the old man had barely enough life insurance to cover his modest funeral. He couldn’t possibly have left her anything except that run-down ranch, which was small by any standards. He hoped she wasn’t naïve enough to think that she could make much money from it.

True, Dan had eked out a meager existence. But he hadn’t had to hire help, something Marielle would be forced to do. No matter how willing she might be to tackle any project, the fact remained that she didn’t possess the physical strength needed for a lot of chores that had to be done on the ranch. He supposed that he should sit down with her and point that out. He winced. Trying to tell Marielle all the reasons why it would be difficult or even impossible for her to stay up here wasn’t something he looked forward to. So far, every time he’d brought the subject up, she’d gone ballistic and refused to listen. But for her sake, he needed to try and make her understand.

Trey massaged his jaw thoughtfully, mulling over the problem of how to go about advising her—tactfully—of the problems she faced.

“Hey, boss.” Trey looked up as Bandy joined him on the wide, shady porch and sat down in an adjoining chair.

“Hey, Bandy. Want a soda?” Trey asked.

“No, not right now. Thanks, anyway.” His foreman replied. Bandy regarded Trey with a mischievous grin. “So, what’s the story with Miss Mari?” he asked teasingly. “You can tell your ol’ pal Bandy.”

“Story? You know the story as well as I do, Bandy.” Trey said. “She’s inherited Dan’s place. The twist is that while we all assumed she’d sell out—she says she won’t.” Trey took a swig of cola and wiped his mouth before continuing. “She wants to live up here … .or thinks she does anyway. Personally, I think she’ll change her mind. This is no place for a woman on her own. Especially a city woman like Marielle Stevens.”

“It would be rough, that’s for sure,” Bandy agreed. “But her grandmother was one hell of a woman, remember. I reckon there wasn’t nothing Ellie Stevens couldn’t turn her hand to do. Worked like a man, she did.” He laughed. “Matter of fact, she was a sight better worker than a lot of men. Raised that boy by herself after her man died, you know. Ran that ranch with just old Dan to help her. If Miss Mari’s inherited some of her grandma’s gumption, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her make a go of it.”