Six White Horses (12 page)

"We could have made it," Patty asserted.

"I've said it before," the ebony-dark head moved to the side in a despairing shake, "you are the hardest person in the world to help. You and that pride of yours keep looking for an ulterior motive where there is none. It's a straightforward offer to let you stay on the ranch until your horses recuperate and you can get back on tour."

He held her gaze for a long moment, transmitting some silent message that there was
nothing for her to worry about. Yet Patty couldn't shake off the feeling that there was. She broke free of the compelling blue eyes and glanced helplessly at her grandfather.

"Will you let them know I'll be there, Morgan?" Everett King requested, not reacting to the silent plea in her eyes. "The horses should be able to travel a week from Tuesday."

"I'll tell them to look for you, then," Morgan nodded, his gaze sliding again to her, "What about you, Patty? Should I tell them to expect you, too?"

Taking a deep breath, she tried to gain time, hoping that in the precious seconds, she would come up with another solution. Of course she didn't. There didn't seem to be any other.

"Yes," she agreed, exhaling tiredly and turning away.

"Goodbye, Patty," Morgan said to halt her departure. "I won't be seeing you for a couple of months or more." His mouth quirked into a mocking smile. "It will seem like a well-earned vacation for both of us."

Staring at his hard, strong face, Patty realized she had forgotten that. Morgan wouldn't be there to torment her with his mockery and laughter. As much as she disliked him, he had become something of a fixture in her life.

"Yes, it will seem like that, won't it?" she admitted aloud.

"Who knows?" The massive shoulders shrugged with his drawling voice. "I might even discover that I'll miss you, or at the very least, I'll miss our constant arguments."

Before she could retort that she wouldn't miss him at all, he was turning to her grandfather and bidding him goodbye and the opportunity to administer one last cutting barb had passed. There was a vague tightness in her throat as she watched him walk away. The peace and quiet would be wonderful, she told herself.

"I'm sorry, Patty," her grandfather spoke at last.

For an instant, she couldn't
remember
why he was apologizing. "It's all right, gramps," she answered quietly. "I only wish there had been some other way we could have got by without accepting Morgan's offer."

"You still can't abide him, can you?"

"I never will!" Patty declared vehemently.

"He's a good man," Everett King pointed out, then turned toward the stalls. "I'm going to check on Landmark."

Most of the rodeo cowboys had left the day before, but when Morgan pulled out with his men and the rodeo stock, the arena grounds seemed like a deserted ghost town. Although Patty and her grandfather were kept busy caring for the injured horses, the loneliness crept in. It wasn't the hustle and bustle that she missed so much as it was an indefinable something else.

Tuesday morning, the day they were to leave, her spirits lightened considerably. She still didn't like the idea of going to Morgan's ranch. Considering the animosity she held toward him, she felt guilty accepting the hospitality of his parents.

Watching her grandfather load the last horse into the trailer, Patty stood back, trying to understand the conflicting emotions that had her looking forward to the journey and feeling guilty at the same time. The only answer that came to mind was that she was glad to escape the emptiness of the grounds, although being alone and separated from other people had never bothered her when she was growing up on her parents' ranch.

"All loaded up and ready to go," her grandfather announced as he locked the trailer gate in place.

"Do you want me to lead the way or follow?" she asked.

"You'd better follow me for a while until we see for sure how the horses are going to do. When we get to the Oklahoma border, you can take the lead."

"You go ahead and start out. I'll catch up," Patty said after nodding in agreement.

"You aren't still mad at me, are you?"

"I'm not mad at you," she frowned.

"You've been so quiet all week I thought you were upset because I'd accepted Morgan's offer. I only did what I thought was best."

"I know that, grandpa," she smiled, letting her dimples come into play. "And I couldn't be holding any grudges or I wouldn't be going along. But you knew that all the time."

"It makes me feel better to hear you say it," he smiled in return. "Now, we'd better get on the road or we'll be traveling all day."

After a jaunty salute in her direction, Everett King climbed agilely into the cab of the pickup and started the motor. Waving her own goodbye, Patty set out for her pickup and the travel trailer parked some distance away. Her grandfather was pulling out of the rodeo grounds gate as she neared hers.

Blinking uncertainly, Patty looked again toward the passenger side of her truck. There was the crown of an ivory Stetson hat level with the window. Someone had evidently decided to hitch a ride. Her mouth smoothed into a firm, angry line as her long legs carried her to the passenger door.

"Get out of there!" she ordered, and yanked the door open at the same time.

There was a startled curse of pain as the man who had been leaning against the door nearly fell out, caught himself with a hand on the door, and straightened back into an upright position in the seat.

"For God's sake, you could be more careful!" Morgan Kincaid growled. "I could have broken my neck when you pulled the door open that way!"

Patty's mouth opened in surprise as she stared into his blazing blue eyes and the stern, forbidding frown beneath the wayward strands of black hair.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded when she had recovered her speech.

"I could ask you the same question," he retorted. "I thought your grandfather always drove the truck pulling the travel trailer."

"He changed this time so he could keep a closer watch on the horses," she answered instinctively, forgetting for a moment that he had not answered her question.

He turned in the seat to face her with painstaking slowness. "You could have checked to see who was in here before nearly killing them," he muttered angrily.

It was only when he had completed the turn that Patty saw his left arm was in a sling. Her anger and surprise evaporated into curiosity and concern.

"What's happened to your arm?"

"I dislocated my shoulder. And damned near did it again when you tried to send me sprawling on the ground!" Morgan retorted, "Who did you think was in here, anyway?"

"I supposed it was a hitchhiker," Patty defended herself. "How was I supposed to know it was you?" Suspicion loomed to the front. "Did grandpa know you were going to be here?"

"Of course he didn't?" Morgan snapped. "If he had I would have known which truck he was pulling now, wouldn't I?"

"Then what are you doing here?"

His mouth moved into a cold, exasperated smile. "I wanted a ride home and I knew that was where you were going." With his good hand, he lifted his slinged arm slightly. "I can't drive very well with this."

"How did it happen?" Her train of thought reverted back to his injury.

"Snowball went through the fence. I was, unfortunately, on the other side," Morgan replied tautly.

Snowball, Patty knew, was one of the rodeo bulls, renowned for his complete lack of respect for the height or thickness of any fence if he chose to be on the opposite side. He was a Brahman cross, but an extremely mild-tempered beast unless he got a notion in his mind to wander.

"What happened to Snowball?"

There was a suggestion of amusement in Morgan's
blue eyes. "He's a good draw for the cowboys and always gives them a good score when they ride him. So I sold him to the Jim Byers' outfit. I figured they could borrow trouble for a while."

"How did you get here?"

"Bob Andrews' wife had a baby, a boy, and he gave me a lift as far as here."

"But what about the rodeo stock?" Patty questioned.

"Listen, if you keep asking all these questions, your grandfather is going to be thirty miles down the road. Don't you think we ought to be going?"

"Oh, yes, we should," she agreed, brought back suddenly from her curiosity to the business at hand.

Morgan slammed his door shut while Patty walked around to the driver's side. Not until she was out on the highway did she take the time to repeat her question.

"Who's in charge of the stock while you're gone?"

"My brother Alex and his wife drove down on Sunday. He's taking over while I give my shoulder a couple of weeks to heal."

"A couple of weeks?" Patty repeated uncertainly.

The sideways glance she gave him was met with a mocking gaze. "What's the matter, Skinny? Are you trying to be certain how long you're going to have to put up with me around?" Morgan taunted. "I don't know about you, but I was just beginning to enjoy the peace and quiet."

"So was I," Patty was stung to retort, refusing to admit that she had found it empty.

"Well, never fear," said Morgan, settling down in the seat and tipping his hat forward to cover his face. "You won't have to
suffer my company any longer than is necessary. That should relieve your mind." He cradled the sling in his good arm. "Now, if you don't object, I'm going to take a nap. And please, drive carefully. I'm in enough pain as it is without getting my teeth jolted out of my head."

"I always drive carefully!" she snapped. "And don't take it out on me just because you're hurt!"

At that particular moment, a railroad crossing loomed in front of them. Patty's concentration had been more on her passenger than on the road and she was unable to slow up in time before they bumped across it, drawing a muffled exclamation of pain from Morgan.

"If that's an example of careful driving—" he began savagely.

"Oh, shut up!" And she reached over and switched on the radio to drown out the rest of his jeering remark. "Don't talk to me again until your disposition improves."

Morgan reached over and turned the radio down. "Your disposition doesn't exactly rate a gold star," he responded dryly, and resumed his former position, the brim of his hat concealing his angry look.

"My disposition? You've been yelling at me from the beginning!" Patty answered.

"Talking loudly," he corrected. "Now be quiet so I can get some sleep."

Pressing her lips tightly together in mutinous silence, Patty concentrated on the highway in front of her. Several miles farther on, she caught sight
of the horse van her grandfather was pulling and began gaining ground until she was a hundred feet or more behind him.

Morgan too was silent, presumably asleep if the even rise and fall of his chest was anything to go by. His presence grated her nerves, never allowing her to totally relax and become oblivious to him. Forgetting how pallid the peace of last week had seemed, she found herself wishing for it.

After an hour's drive, the horse trailer in front of her flashed its turning signal and pulled off the highway into a rest area. Patty eased her foot off the accelerator and followed, resisting the impulse to apply sudden brake pressure and rudely awaken Morgan. But the change in speed did not go unnoticed as the hat brim was pushed back and bright blue eyes looked around at the new surroundings.

"Is he having any problems up ahead?" he asked when Patty stopped the pickup and travel trailer parallel with her grandfather.

"He didn't signal that he was," she answered shortly.

The question was repeated to Everett King the instant he stepped from the cab of his truck. The genuine surprise on her grandfather's face at the sight of Morgan removed the last remaining doubt Patty had that this coincidence might have been arranged.

"No problems that I know of," her grandfather responded to the question. "Just taking a breather for the horses. What are you doing here?"

While Morgan repeated his explanation, Patty walked to the horse trailers, using her own key to unlock the access door. They had lined the van's stalls with extra padding for the journey to insure that the horses didn't accidentally do further injury to themselves. Before she could actually begin the individual inspections, her grandfather was entering the van.

"I'll check the horses," he said. "Why don't you get some cups from the trailer and pour us all some coffee? Bring a sack of cookies, too."

Breathing in deeply, Patty checked the impulse to suggest that they not stop for a break but continue on. The rest was for the horses, not themselves.

"Okay," she sighed in agreement, and walked back through the door, hopping to the ground before Morgan could take the few steps necessary to offer her a hand.

With only a freezing glance in his direction, she walked around the horse van, rummaging again through the pocket of her tight Levi's for the key to the trailer door. She was just taking the cups out of the cupboard when Morgan stepped in.

"Would you like some help?" he offered.

After the angry exchange not an hour before, Patty resented the easy way he was slipping into casual friendliness. She couldn't pretend so readily that their argument hadn't occurred.