Montana Legacy

by Roxanne Rustand

February, 2000
ISBN: 0-373-70895-5
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Chapter excerpt

The horse blew noisily through his nostrils, his ears swiveling like crazed radar detectors. Kate bit her lip and gathered the reins in one hand at his withers, then tentatively put her left foot in the stirrup.

Rolling his eyes, Rowdy sidled sideways.

Kate hopped along on one foot beside him to keep up.

"Whoa!" she muttered, well aware of the spectacle she was providing for the host of grizzled cowboys lined up along the fence.

Pivoting on his front feet and bobbing his head, Rowdy swung his rear end away from her.

"Gotta move a little faster, ma'am," a scratchy voice called from the fence. "That horse don't have all day."

Kate took a deep breath, caught part of the gray gelding's mane with her rein hand, and launched herself up into the saddle.

Rowdy froze.

His muscles bunched and tensed like a coiled spring beneath her. Unbidden, the words of some long ago sermon danced into her mind. Pride goeth before a fall.

"All set?" Seth asked.

"Sure," she called back. Maybe by next year.

He lounged in his saddle, one forearm resting across the saddle horn, his other arm crossed above it, the reins held loosely in one hand. With his dark sunglasses and the brim of his black hat tipped low, his expression was unreadable.

He looked impossibly masculine on that horse; tall, lean, supremely capable. Maybe it was his innate confidence that struck a chord within her. Maybe it was the easy drawl and dry wit. Either way, she needed to keep her distance.

Although for now, the point was moot.

His horse stood with its head down and a back hoof cocked peacefully. Her mount felt like an atom bomb between her legs. Kate debated the wisdom of nudging Rowdy into forward gear.

Lighting his fuse could mean a fast trip into the dirt, face first.

Standing still much longer would decimate whatever pride she had left.

From the rail came a wheezy laugh. She turned and tracked its source to a gray-haired guy with a battered black hat and an even more disreputable old denim jacket.

"Give him a big ole whomp and he'll get agoin' real good," he offered.

A younger cowboy with red hair--aptly nicknamed Freckles, from the raucous banter she'd overhead earlier--gave the old geezer a dirty look, then turned his earnest face back to Kate. "Rowdy's all bluff, ma'am. He was in a camp string once and figured out how to stay in the barn. He'll be okay, honest."

The others turned away in disgust at Freckle's revelation. Not one of them had smiled at her, much yet said hello since she'd arrived. They'd been hoping to see her fail.

"Thanks." Collecting her courage, Kate forced herself to relax in the saddle. She nudged Rowdy's ribs with her heels. Then again, a little harder. "Come on, fleabag," she muttered under her breath.

She'd been set up. Nothing she hadn't experienced before, as a rookie cop.

Rowdy shambled into a slow walk, apparently disappointed that his ruse had been detected. If a horse could pout, this one was doing so right now with its head hung low and ears bobbing in time to each step. Kate let out a long, slow breath and sank deeper into the saddle. The release of tension turned her backbone to jelly.

Seth gave her a curt nod and reined his sorrel out toward the pasture. Lifting an arm, he gestured to the distant north, where black cattle looked like tiny black polka dots against the rolling pasture land. "We're going out to check them, then today or tomorrow we've got to bring in the herd up on the Jefferson place."

Seth's horse eased into a slow lope. Rowdy followed suit with minimal riderly input and matched his speed to Seth's horse, so Kate gave him his head and concentrated on the flow of his three-beat motion. His fluid stride gathered and surged beneath her, powerful yet smooth as a rocking chair.

Exhilaration sped through her veins at the crisp air. The endless expanse of sky overhead. The sensation of flying across the grasslands. The vast, undulating landscape seemed to go on forever, blending into the faint blue silhouette of the Bull Mountains at the horizon. Those mountains were over sixty miles away, Seth had said, though that seemed impossible. She breathed in deeply, absorbing the day and a sense of freedom she hadn't felt in a long, long time.

They cut across hills too rugged for a jeep to cross. Seth might as well have been relaxing in a favorite chair, but Kate felt every twist and turn of Rowdy's body as he negotiated the steeper slopes. She kept Rowdy a few lengths behind so he wouldn't see her greenhorn efforts, and prayed that somewhere, among the boxes stashed in the trunk of her car, she had a bottle of good liniment.

Seth eased his gelding into a slow jog and held out an arm, signaling Kate to slow down as they approached the herd. Rowdy took the hint without so much as a touch on the reins.

No doubt the old coots back at the barn were still laughing at her, the dumb city girl who'd been fooled by Rowdy's wild horse routine. Kate reached forward and stroked his neck, where powerful muscles played beneath his furry winter upholstery.

"Does Rowdy try to scare everyone, or was it just me?"

Seth pulled to a stop and gave Rowdy a thoughtful look, then shifted his dark, somber gaze to Kate. "The ones he doesn't fool he generally dumps."

Rowdy halted next to Seth's horse as if pre-programmed, and only then did she catch the twinkle in Seth's eyes. That flash of charm shouldn't have surprised her.

How else had this stranger managed to inherit half of her grandfather's ranch?

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