Cowgirl, Say Yes. Brenda Mott

Jason waved a hand in front of his face.

      Wade blinked. “What?”

      “Did Tess work her charms on you, too?” Jason teased.

      “Hardly.” Then he frowned. “What do you mean ‘too’?”

      “Nothing.” Jason chuckled. “She’s hot, ain’t she?”

      Wade knuckled his son’s hair. “You’re not supposed to be noticing things like that yet.”

      “Dad! I’m almost thirteen.” He said it as though the age equaled manhood.

      Wade grinned. “Yeah, I guess you are. And I guess she is. Hot, that is,” he added. “But she’s sure irritating.”

      “Yep.” Jason nodded as though he held the wisdom of the world in his mind. “Women usually are.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      TESS SHUT the refrigerator door a little too hard, and the magnetic calendar that didn’t seem to stick right anymore slid off and plopped on the floor. She picked it up and noticed her upcoming birthday marked with pink Hi-Liter—Macy’s doing. Six more days and she’d turn twenty-seven. Twenty-seven and still married to her job.

      She shrugged off the thought. Only her run-in with Wade was making her think that way. Any other time, she knew she was better off sharing her home with no one but her animals. Heck, she had all the kids she needed in her 4-H group. And Lord knows she’d had enough of being a family caregiver to last a lifetime. Not that she would ever begrudge the time she’d devoted to her mother. Instead, she treasured it.

      Raelene Vega had developed familial Alzheimer’s disease—FAD, a rare form of Alzheimer’s—at the age of forty-one. As the years passed, she’d required Tess’s ever-increasing care. It wasn’t her fault, no more than Tess’s dad and two older brothers were to blame for being men—which translated to helpless half the time.

      Tess had been the primary caregiver, maker of meals and soother of colds, flu and broken hearts since the age of sixteen. Her father had insisted that Raelene, the woman he’d thought would be his life’s partner, stay at home for as long as possible. With the progress of time came progress of the disease. Tess had quickly grown to hate FAD. Not for what it put her through, but for what her mother suffered.

      Once a vibrant, intelligent woman who took pride in the three kids she’d chosen to adopt, she’d taught them how to ride a horse, how to build a barn and what to do when a member of the opposite sex called for the first time on the phone. But in the grip of Alzheimer’s, Rae’s mind had quickly deteriorated. Her condition had worsened to the point that although Lloyd Vega and all three of his children visited Rae regularly at the County Care Facility, she rarely knew who they were anymore.

      Tess tried not to think about that part.

      And she tried not to be selfish and thank God that, even though she felt like Rae’s flesh and blood, she wasn’t. Tess’s birth mother had abandoned her and her brothers when they were small, fading from their lives without so much as a second thought. Raelene had married Lloyd a short time later, and adopted Tess and the boys. FAD ran in generations, and if Tess, Zach and Seth had been Rae’s biological children, they would have had a fifty-fifty chance of inheriting the disease.

      Angry at herself not for the first time for letting such a thought come to mind, Tess slapped the calendar back up on the fridge, opened the door and peered inside. An assortment of fresh vegetables and cheese greeted her, and her stomach growled. She’d given up meat ten years ago, when her love for animals dictated she do the right thing. Reaching into the fridge, she chose a cluster of fresh broccoli and a chunk of Monterey Jack, both of which would go nicely with the ziti she’d purchased yesterday. She’d also treat herself to a good, ice-cold beer. Tess rarely drank the stuff, but the day she’d had today warranted one.

      First there’d been the call she’d gotten at work…a summons to a boarding stable located ten miles from town. The caller had been a concerned neighbor, and the tale she’d told had been familiar. One that never failed to twist Tess’s stomach into a knot. An abandoned horse, neglected because the owner no longer cared and had found better things to spend money on.

      Tess had driven out immediately, to find a bone-thin gray mare standing in a stall full of manure. Mane and tail matted, hooves curled like elf shoes, she had a dull expression in her eyes that said she’d given up hope. Crud caked her once-pretty dappled coat, and flies buzzed around the stall in excess. The entire barnyard looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned in a millenium.

      Furious beyond words, Tess had offered the idiot stable owner, who now “took care” of the abandoned mare, fifty dollars for the animal, knowing he’d ask for more. He hadn’t disappointed her. Two hundred dollars later, she’d left with the gray safely stowed in the two-horse trailer behind her Dodge Ram. The poor creature had loaded without much fuss, especially once she laid eyes on the flake of grass hay waiting for her in the trailer’s manger.

      Back home, Tess had promptly called Doc Baker, who came out as soon as he could and examined the mare. He proclaimed her salvageable, gave her wormer medication and a vaccine to guard against tetanus, influenza and sleeping sickness, and recommended a top-notch farrier to trim her grossly overgrown hooves. Tess’s own farrier, married to Macy’s former 4-H leader, had moved away last week.

      With the mare under Doc’s watchful eye, Tess left the barn long enough to call the number on the business card he’d given her. To her delight, the “Johnnie” Blake who answered the phone turned out to be a woman. She promised to drive out the next day and take care of the mare. Tess applauded the fact that her new farrier was female, especially since the gray would require some extra-special attention and Tess stubbornly refused to believe that any man could have as big a heart as a woman when it came to needy animals.

      Back in the barn, she found the old mare down. Heart in her throat, she watched Doc Baker tend to her with gentle hands and a soft voice. He’d quickly reassured Tess that the horse was fine. She simply suffered from exhaustion and had spent the reserve of her energy for the day. Still, he stayed with the animal for the better part of an hour to be certain she was indeed okay. Before he left, he told Tess not to hesitate to call him in the middle of the night if necessary, blowing her theory of insensitive men all to hell.

      Then Macy had ridden over, begging her to give Amber a home. Next had come her argument with Wade Darland.

      Twisting the cap off a longneck bottle of Coors Light, Tess leaned back in a kitchen chair, propping her booted feet on its neighbor.

      Now, there was a man who was enough to drive any woman to drink. Good-looking as all get out, he nevertheless irritated her beyond words with his attitude. Lord, what was wrong with him? Upsetting poor Macy that way. What did he plan to do? Ship her horse off to the killer? That was likely the only buyer he’d get for a mare in her twenties. The horse was still ridable, but not so fit for speed events anymore. Macy thought Amber was about twenty-three, but she wasn’t sure because the mare wasn’t registered.

      Tess took a swig from the longneck, then rose to check on her boiling pasta, sidestepping one of her cats as he laced himself between her ankles with a plaintive meow, begging. “You won’t eat pasta, Champ, and you know it.”

      The sound of a truck in her driveway sent her to look through the screen door. Her heart did a dive. Wade Darland climbed from behind the wheel of a battered Ford pickup, his gray hat dusty, his boots scuffed. What did he want now?

      The last of the sun’s rays made a backdrop against his shoulders as he headed up the sidewalk. Duke lunged at him, taking a snap at his heels, and Wade shouted. Tess opened the screen and gave a sharp whistle that had all three dogs retreating to the porch. Wade hesitated halfway up the walk, eyeing Duke. At a hundred and five pounds, the shepherd looked like a canine version of Arnold “I’ll be back” Schwarzenegger. Or maybe more of a “make my day” kind of dog, as he showed Wade his teeth and the length of hair rising on the back of his neck.

      “You’re