The Last Cowboy

“Yeah, it was. In more ways than one,” he muttered, crossing his arms. Leaning against the wall as she began to use the shower hose to wet Stormy down, he added, “Me and my fraternal twin brother, Griff, were orphaned at six years old. My parents had left us the ranch in their will, but we were too young to run it. My dad had two older brothers, Paul and Robert. Griff moved back East with Uncle Robert. I stayed out here with Uncle Paul and Aunt Patty. Together, they took over the running of our ranch.”

Jordana took a plastic brush and began gently scrubbing Stormy’s neck. She stood quietly, appreciating the tepid water. Looking over her back, Jordana realized that Slade was this way because of the early loss of his parents. She tried to put herself in his place. Wouldn’t she toughen up, too? Would the world look scary and uncertain to Slade and his brother? Very. Gently, she asked, “Is your brother Griff also an endurance rider?” She had never seen him on the circuit.

Giving her a jaded look, Slade felt helpless to stop from telling her about his painful past. “No. Griff went back to New York City with Uncle Robert and his wife. He’s never cared about the ranch.”

“Ah, this is where city slicker comes in?” she teased softly and added a smile. Slade’s face went dark, and he refused to meet her gaze. Oops. She’d said the wrong thing. Scrubbing Stormy’s withers with a soft rubber brush where the saddle sat, Jordana made sure to get all the grit and dust washed off her because it could cause inflammation and create a saddle sore if she didn’t.

Battling his sudden emotions that rose unexpectedly within him, Slade muttered, “My younger brother is a Wall Street broker. He got sent to Harvard and has an MBA. He followed in my Uncle Robert’s footsteps.”

“I see,” Jordana said, moving the brush and the water down the center of Stormy’s gray back. “Does he visit often?”

Shaking his head, Slade said, “Griff likes New York. He likes the East, the big money he makes, the power he has, the women who like to follow the money trail. He doesn’t have time for our family’s ranch.”

The hurt was so evident that Jordana couldn’t shield herself from his sadness. All of a sudden, she wanted to drop the brush and shower wand, run over to Slade and throw her arms around him. In that split second, he looked like the grief-stricken six-year-old who had had his family suddenly torn away from him. Privileged to see the real man, Jordana stood there unable to say or do anything. She couldn’t run over and embrace him. What Slade needed was to be held, rocked, nurtured and kept safe. Now, she was seeing a little of how he saw life. It was a hard life. It took those he loved away from him. And speaking about his brother tore away a new scab that hadn’t really healed at all. Moistening her lips, Jordana said, “Sometimes, life is harsh.”

He snorted, allowed his arms to fall to his side and glared at her. Scared that he’d opened up to this woman, who was really a stranger to him, had him feeling uneasy. “That’s right. It always is. I’ll see you in three days.”

Watching Slade leave, Jordana saw how quickly he closed up once more. His eyes, however, couldn’t lie. She saw such anguish in them that it made her want to cry. And he would never allow her close to him. Like the hurt animal he was, he’d bite anyone’s hand offering help. Sighing, she continued to scrub Stormy free of sweat and dust. The first clap of thunder rolled across the land. Looking up, she saw the churning gray and black clouds racing down upon the valley. Soon, it would pour rain in buckets. Was the sky already crying for the pain that Slade McPherson carried daily within him? No parents were here to love and guide him. No one to help him grow up safe and nurtured. No wonder he was a loner….

CHAPTER FIVE

AS JORDANA DROVE into the training facility, her heart leaped with surprise. There stood the most famous endurance rider and horse in the country— Slade and Thor. She wasn’t sure who was more masculine, proud and aloof: the stud or the man. Smiling with excitement, she forgot about the stress of hurrying out to Tetons Ranch to arrive on time. As a physician she had unexpected emergencies that she had to attend to before anything else. Jordana lived in continued anxiety that one day, she might be late. Slade wouldn’t tolerate tardiness.

Climbing out of her truck, she grinned. “Hey, seeing Thor in person, instead of in a photo, is astounding!” Thor had a “cap” of chestnut color splotched across his head and ears. That was known as a medicine-hat pattern. Native Americans considered such a horse as powerful, protective and lucky. Thor had sky-blue eyes, and Jordana knew it made him even more rare and beautiful. His white hair covered part of his face along with chestnut markings down to his pink-colored muzzle and wide, flaring nostrils.

Pride flowed through Slade. His stallion snorted, his chestnut-colored ears flicking as Jordana approached. The hot July sun beat down on them. “Get Stormy saddled up,” he ordered. “We’re going on a fifteen-mile run.”

Shocked, Jordana halted. “Really?”

Giving her a sliver of a one-sided smile, Slade said, “You brought your mare to me in top shape. Shorty said you were riding her fifteen miles twice a week. She’s ready for this.”

Swallowing her shock and pleasure, Jordana said, “I’ll be right there!” She trotted up to the training barn, her heart soaring with joy. Stormy greeted her with a friendly nicker as she walked down to the end box stall. As she placed her mare in the cross ties to be brushed and saddled, Jordana felt hopeful. Ever since meeting Slade, her days had taken on a new brightness and hope. Not wanting to look at that aspect too closely, Jordana told herself she was drawn to the cowboy because of his rugged good looks and that was all. Clearly, Slade had no women around here.

As she hurried to the tack room and picked up the thick pad and saddle, Jordana recalled talking to one of her patients who knew Slade. Tracy Border, a thirty-year-old mother of two who was trying to lose weight, had said Slade was called The Loner. That his wreck of a divorce had all but put his ranch into teetering foreclosure with the local bank. Further, Slade had been married to a brat of a woman who had no maturity. With that information, Jordana could understand why Slade was anti-female. He had to have time to get over a divorce.

The sweet smell of alfalfa hay wafted through the barn. Inhaling the scent, Jordana often wished that some perfume company would make the fragrance. She’d wear it for sure!

Releasing Stormy from the ties, she quickly placed the hackamore on her mare, clucked to her to follow and hurried out of the facility. Slade was already mounted on the restive, powerful-looking Thor. Jordana knew that the Native Americans felt the medicine-hat pattern, that was sometimes found on paint or pinto mustangs, was powerful. In fact, war chiefs often coveted such beautifully marked mustangs because they were considered the ultimate, courageous warhorses. Thor was pawing the ground, anxious to get on with the ride. He stood fifteen hands tall, which was rare for a mustang. Most were very small in comparison. His white body was splattered with chestnut markings that made her think of an artist carelessly throwing paint here and there across his athletic body. She liked the mixing of white and chestnut on his long, flowing mane and tail.

“I’m ready,” she called, grinning.

Warmth flowed through Slade as he sat relaxed on his stallion. “Mount up,” he told her. For a stolen moment, Slade watched like a starving wolf as Jordana easily vaulted up into her specially made endurance saddle. Today she wore a bright pink T-shirt, a beat-up black baseball cap and jeans. Her curves called to him, and Slade had to tear his gaze from her small breasts. Jordana’s cheeks were red, and he’d come to realize when she was excited, they colored to mirror her happiness.

Squeezing her calves against Stormy’s sleek gray barrel, she rode up and paralleled Slade. “What now?”

Lifting his hand, he said, “We’ll take the path between the pastures. At the end of it, we’ll go left and then we’ll be on Elkhorn Ranch property. Iris Mason gave me permission years ago to utilize her large ranch land to train my endurance horses. I only have fifty acres, which isn’t enough to toughen up an endurance prospect. On her property, there’s hills, slopes of mountains, as well as flat areas. We need all those to challenge the horse and get him…her…up to speed.”

“What a wonderful gift Iris gave to you!”

He nodded and brought the brim of his Stetson down more securely on his head. “She’s the matriarch of this valley and has a good heart. When I went to her and asked for her permission, she gave it right away. And she didn’t ask for any money. That’s the kind of person she is.” Slade was grateful that Iris hadn’t demanded money for the use of her land. She could have but known, as every other rancher did in this valley, he was nearly penniless. Iris helped out those who had less, and he was thankful for her kindness.

“I hear Iris is marrying Professor Timothy Varden from Harvard,” she said.

Nodding, Slade thought of the invite he’d just received to the event. “Yes, she’s in her eighties but she fell hard for the guy.” And secretly, Slade was happy for Iris. She was one of the stalwart leaders in the valley.

“One of my patients told me about her yesterday. I don’t think anyone dislikes Iris.”

“She’s special.”

“I heard that Senator Peyton was convicted and going to prison. I met Clarissa Peyton the other day over at Gwen Garner’s quilt shop. After Gwen told me what had happened, I felt very sorry for the woman.”

“Yeah, it’s been rough on Clarissa. Matt Sinclaire was his target. This year it’s been a mix of good, sad and bad news.”

“I met Casey Cantrell at a luncheon,” Jordana said with a wispy smile. “She and Matt just got engaged. They’re going to get married at Christmas. Matt felt that his daughter, Megan, would have the terrible memory of her mother killed in that arson fire erased by the happy one.”

“Matt has gone through hell,” Slade agreed, grim. The firefighter had lost Bev, his wife and almost lost his daughter Megan to Senator Peyton’s attempt to kill them. “I like Casey a lot. And Megan is speaking up a storm now. After the fire, she went mute. And it wasn’t until of late she started talking again.”

“I think it was due to Casey,” she confided. Slade’s face had softened and he was reflective. Jordana knew that this valley’s people were very close, and all had connections with one another like a larger family.

“I do, too. Megan calls her Mommy now and I think they’ll have a happy ending. Matt certainly deserves a break after all this hell he’s gone through.”

Nodding, she added, “I suppose you hear most of the town gossip? That Zach Mason, Iris’s grandson, has been caught driving drugs to and from Cheyenne with a gang? I’ll bet Iris is heartbroken.”

“There’s not much I don’t hear,” Slade drawled. “And Zach’s mother, Allison Mason, was just convicted of trying to murder her stepdaughter. Good thing she didn’t succeed, but her son Zach, swore vengeance.”

“I heard from another patient that Zach has been in drugs for a long time.”

“That’s true,” Slade said, running his fingers through Thor’s silky white-and-chestnut mane. “I’m more worried about the sister, Reagan. She had a real career ahead of her in movie directing but she’s sat tight here after the conviction. Word’s out that she’s going to get even with Kam Trayhern, the woman her mother tried to murder.”

Sighing, Jordana said, “That’s what Gwen Garner said. My heart breaks for those two kids. Why didn’t Allison Mason think about them before she tried this harebrained scheme to kill Kam Trayhern?”

Shrugging, Slade said, “People do funny things when they’re threatened.” Hadn’t he? After Isabel had left him, he’d turned into an angry bull, much like Diablo. Human feelings were tough to control sometimes. Slade lifted out of his thoughts and said, “I want you to take off in front of me. Walk Stormy to warm her up until we hit that left turn. Then, I want you to do a slow trot. At all times, I’ll be behind you. I want to size up your mare on the different geological areas and see how she reacts.”

“Okay,” Jordana said, feeling her heart swell with a fierce affection for the taciturn cowboy. “I was doing the same type of riding in the south Jackson Hole area.”

“I’m familiar with where you worked her,” Slade said. “But this has more altitude, is rockier and is far more challenging. If you want Stormy to compete in the top tier, she has to not only take this type of terrain on, but excel at it. Today is a test run. We’ll see how she does.” He didn’t say he’d also be watching how Jordana rode and negotiated the coming demands. As on every endurance ride, the rider never knew what was coming next. He’d get to see how Jordana “talked” to her mare and how the horse responded.

Nodding, Jordana smiled and said, “Okay, we’re off on our first adventure with you!” She walked Stormy past the impatient Thor. The stallion was in magnificent shape. Jordana knew that Thor was the past winner of the Tetons Fifty-mile endurance ride. And he was signed up to run it in early September.

Stormy was hard-pressed to just walk. Like any well-trained athlete, she found walking boring. She pranced and danced sideways as they made their way between the two huge cattle pastures. On her right she saw the massive one-ton bull, Diablo, who was alone and looking forlornly across to the other pasture where his ladies were. In the other pasture, the calves had been separated from their mamas, and they were now fattening up on the lush Wyoming grass.

Slade liked the power of Thor as he rode. The stallion was competitive just like him, and he didn’t like walking behind Stormy. Chomping at the bit, the stallion tossed his head, his long, thick mane flying like a banner in the breeze. At the corner, he watched Jordana give Stormy a leg signal to make the turn. And then, the gray mare broke into a slow trot. Thor lunged, partly reared and fought the bit.

“Easy,” Slade murmured, sliding his gloved hand down the stallion’s tightly arched neck. “You’ll get to run here shortly.”

Snorting violently, Thor pranced as he made the turn. Slade was pleased to see that Jordana was keeping Stormy at a slow trot instead of a fast one. It was so important to warm up an endurance horse the right way. Humans had to do stretches in order to limber up and get more blood into their bodies to face the demanding tasks that would be asked of them. Horses were no different. However, a highly trained and competitive endurance horse hated walking. They would much rather move into a ground eating trot. A horse could pull a muscle, ligament or tendon if not warmed up properly for the coming demanding distances.

Once they rode past the gate and shut it behind them, Slade told her, “See this trail? It leads up to two steep hills about five miles away. I want you to ride at an extended trot. Float her if you can. Tactics in top competition are to get your horse into any flat area where they can hit maximum stride. This is where riders can make up lost time that they’ll encounter in hills or mountainous or steep areas.”