No Hero Like Him. Elaine Grant

pamper him by only putting very lightweight children on his back. He’s a dear and deserves an easy old age.”

      Seth nodded. “I got no problem with that. We do that on the ranch, too.”

      “You have a ranch?”

      “In northern Wyoming. My parents’ ranch where I grew up.”

      “I should have remembered that. Libby’s told me a couple of stories about her childhood. I hope you weren’t the brother who operated on all her favorite dolls to heal them.”

      “Nope, that was Will. I was still a baby, so that’s one thing I couldn’t be blamed for. About the only thing, though. Besides, Libby got a whole bunch of new dolls out of it and Will had to work off the cost of them.”

      Claire laughed, as Libby had done when she told the tale, while admitting she’d been horrified when she discovered her dolls bandaged all over. Even worse was when she’d removed the bandages and found her dolls tattooed with permanent red marker to mimic surgical incisions.

      “Will’s a surgeon in New Orleans now,” Seth said. “Guess he was just practicing for his future. My brother Cord’s a lawyer in Denver and Howdy and Lane are still at the ranch helping Dad. I seem to be the only one…”

      His voice trailed off. Claire waited for him to go on, but he didn’t, so she resumed the tour of the stables.

      They stopped again before a stall with a sleek palomino pony inside. The small animal whinnied and ambled to the door, his outstretched nose barely reaching the bars in the top half.

      “I wouldn’t recommend Sheffield, even though he is pretty. You’d end up carrying him, as tall as you are.”

      “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. I told you I’m not going to do that therapy.”

      “Because of a helmet? Come on.”

      Seth grew downright sulky, but again Claire ignored him. He definitely needed to lose the negativity, but instinct told her he was using it as a front to hide his real feelings.

      “One more.” She rounded the corner and opened a stall door. Inside, a big, plump piebald mare lifted her head to stare at Seth with mild interest. Her huge hooves were feathered at the fetlocks, and her white mane and tail looked stiff as wire. Her conformation indicated draft-horse blood.

      “She’d be good for a crusade,” Seth said, leaning against the stall post.

      “Now, don’t make fun of her,” Claire said. “Her name’s Belle and she’s sweet as can be. If she’s ridden five minutes or all day, she’ll never complain. She’s the only one other than Jack that I use for adults.”

      Claire brought Belle out on a halter, led her through the breezeway to the covered work area and hooked her in the cross ties. “I’m sure you know how to groom.”

      “Nah, why don’t you show me?” When she held a currycomb out to him, he gave it a questioning frown. “Is this a test?”

      “You might say so.”

      He cocked an eyebrow, but took the tool from her and began to loosen the dust and debris on the horse’s coat with quick efficient strokes. His leg might be weak but muscles rippled under his shirt as he worked his way along the horse’s back. Claire could see him visibly relax, and gradually the frown left his face. She was glad to hear him talking softly to Belle as he worked, and Belle flicked her ears back and forth, listening. He finished with a dandy brush from the toolbox, leaving the black-and-white mare shining. Claire cleaned the horse’s hooves, then unsnapped the cross ties and handed Seth the rope.

      “I’m going to teach you to lead now.”

      “You walk off and the horse follows,” he said. While he didn’t actually say “duh,” his tone certainly implied it.

      “Not around here,” Claire said. “You stand beside her head and ask her to move forward with you.”

      “What?”

      Claire took the lead rope and stood beside Belle, holding it several inches below the snap. She moved her hand forward without taking all the slack out of the rope. Belle stepped forward and they walked in a tight circle before Claire brought her back to Seth.

      He heaved a sigh. “Lady, you’re crazy. What’s the difference?”

      “Please stop calling me ‘lady.’ My name is Claire.” She handed him the lead. “And there is a difference.”

      “Yeah, fine.” Seth tugged on the rope, not hard, but with an air of impatience. Belle didn’t budge.

      “Don’t yank,” Claire said. “Just move your arm forward a bit. She’ll respond. Like this.”

      His biceps tensed when Claire laid her hand on his long, scarred fingers. She felt the soft sprinkling of light hair on the top of his hand and the edges of calluses on the underside. Quickly, she moved his hand forward slightly until Belle took a step. Seth didn’t budge and the lead rope grew taut. Unable to go forward, Belle crossed in front of them, the change in direction tugging Seth’s arm around Claire’s waist. He spoke softly in her ear, his warm breath causing her to gasp in surprise. “I have to say, this is a novel way to move a horse, but I like it.”

      He smelled good, of fresh soap and aftershave. Of a subtle maleness that quickened Claire’s breath. The heat of his muscled forearm burned through her thin T-shirt and her skin prickled with an odd anticipation. He made no effort to turn her loose, and his breath feathered the tiny hairs along her neck. Her initial urge was to lean against that rock-solid chest and enjoy the moment, see what he would do next. Then Belle snorted and Claire caught herself. She pushed Seth’s arm away.

      “Let’s see you do it on your own.”

      He narrowed his eyes, jutted out his jaw and said, “Aw, it’s a lot more fun when you help. I work much better hands on.”

      His gaze slid to the camp logo on her shirt and lingered, a smile curling his lip and triggering that deep dimple on his cheek. With a start, she realized her body had betrayed her through the taut T-shirt. And now, her chest heaved with embarrassment and an unwanted physical attraction, to boot. She couldn’t afford to be taken in by this bull rider’s charm, especially since he was her employee. She drew away from him to a more comfortable distance.

      “We don’t have all day.”

      With a wicked grin, Seth stepped to Belle’s side and did as Claire asked. She gathered her wits and explained other specifics about the handling techniques the horses understood. He listened and learned.

      When Claire noticed him favoring his leg more, she brought the session to an end. “That’s enough for now. I have lessons this afternoon and some errands to run. We’ll start again tomorrow morning at eight.”

      She glanced over her shoulder as she led Belle back to the stable. Seth walked slowly toward the parking lot, shaking his head. She wondered if hiring him was the right thing to do, and thought he might be asking himself the same thing.

      WHEN CLAIRE ARRIVED HOME that night, she found her father setting out plates on the kitchen table.

      “You cooked?” she said, laying her messenger bag on the built-in desk in one corner of the kitchen.

      Since enrolling at Montana State University as a freshman, she’d lived in the small foreman’s house her dad occupied on the Rider ranch. As cramped as life was in the tiny two-bedroom house, she’d been glad to have her father back in her life after many years of separation. He was growing older now, and the sorrows of his past were etched on his face, yet he rarely asked about her mother and never mentioned her brother, Cody, at all. A couple of times, when they sat on the porch in the quiet evenings, she’d thought about bringing the subjects up, but never found the right opening.

      “Humph,” Clint said. “You know I don’t cook unless I have to. Rosie promised to bring over beef stew in a few minutes.”

      Rosie,