Montana Red. Genell Dellin

as he walked up to Clea’s truck. It wouldn’t be easy to get past it without messing up one or the other or both, and one wrecked new vehicle was enough for one day. What a waste!

      Natural Bands might have deep pockets and probably had good insurance but he wasn’t going to enjoy trying to explain to Celeste how this had happened.

      He opened the passenger door as Teddy got in the back.

      “I’ll drive,” Jake said.

      Clea gave him a disdainful look. “Why should you?”

      “In case you can’t drive any better than you can shoot.”

      Her eyes narrowed. “Get in.”

      “That trailer’s the only one we’ve got,” he said. “And you panicked.”

      She sat up straighter and glared. “If you want a ride, get in. If not, shut the door.”

      He held the stare, trying to intimidate her, but she wouldn’t give in or look away. Her eyes were blue, instead of brown like Victoria’s, but they were just as sure and hard as Tori’s had been when he tried to talk her out of leaving him.

      Yep, here was another woman too stubborn for her own good. Too stubborn to have good sense. Why was that the only kind of woman who ever crossed his path?

      He couldn’t by rights throw her bodily out of the seat, therefore he ought to stay on the ground to direct her, at least until she got around the trailer.

      But that’d be a good way to get killed, judging by the way she was looking at him now. So, damn it, let her prove what she could do if she thought she was such a hand.

      He moved her fancy piece of luggage—one of those with letters and little French symbols printed all over it—to the floor, set his paper sack on top of it and got in.

      Clea put the truck in Reverse and her eyes on the mirror, released the brake and started rolling back the rig.

      “You can do it,” Teddy said from his seat behind Jake. “Just take ‘er slow and steady.”

      “You bet,” Buck said. “We’ll spot you. You git around that gooseneck, you got’er made.”

      “You’re all right,” Teddy said, looking out the back window. “Jist do what we tell you now.”

      Clea didn’t take her eyes off the mirror but she pulled in a deep breath and lifted her chin. The way her hair moved when she did that—so smooth and sleek and shiny, falling back from her perfect face—reminded him of Victoria again, although Tori’s hair was dark. Maybe that was why Clea’d irritated him from the get-go—besides shooting the hell out of his truck, she was a spoiled rich girl.

      Jake stared out the window and tried to ignore her. The old guys would direct her. He’d just sit here and be ready to grab the wheel if she got in a jam.

      “You’re all right,” Teddy said. “Just keep on comin’.”

      She was moving at about an inch per hour.

      “Cowgirl up,” Buck said. “Don’t let nothin’ git you down on the day you killed your first truck.”

      She jerked the wheel. The trailer jerked, too. She got it back.

      “Thanks a lot, Buck,” she said through clenched teeth.

      The old guys laughed. Jake shook his head. They’d probably rattle on until they unnerved her completely.

      Then she pressed the accelerator and backed a little faster. Another second or two and she could crash into the gooseneck.

      “Want me to unhook you?” Jake asked.

      “I’ve backed a trailer before,” she snapped.

      “Once,” he muttered, under his breath.

      Spoiled rotten, determined to do whatever she wanted whether she knew how or not. Wouldn’t listen to reason. He hated that.

      She sped up a little more but she was still just creeping. In spite of that caution, her trailer seemed to be going in a more and more crooked path.

      “There you go,” Buck said. “You’re nearly to the hard part. Come on, now.”

      Clea clenched her jaw even harder and pressed down on the gas a little more. Jake kept his eyes on the outside rear-view mirror.

      Buck muttered, “Go for it.”

      “Watch it,” Teddy said. “Crank ‘er to the right, just a hair.”

      “No, she’s okay that way,” Buck said. “Send ‘er toward the house, Clea, and then hold ‘er there. Straight back.”

      “You cain’t even see straight, Buck. You shut up and let me do this. You’re…”

      A sudden loud whinny cut through the air and a big black mare ran to the fence. Clea sucked in her breath and stepped on the gas a little more.

      “Now, you all watch for that trailer,” she said, and kept her eyes on the mirror. The whinny rang out again.

      “Whoo-ee, and not a white hair on her,” Teddy said. “Black as the ace of spades and, what is she? At least near seventeen hands.”

      “You’ve got a mighty fancy mare there, Clea,” Buck said.

      Clea didn’t say thanks for the compliment. She didn’t say a word.

      “What d’you use her fer?” Buck asked.

      Finally, she said, “I show her some.”

      “She one o’ them jumpers?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Never could stay in one o’ them little postage-stamp saddles,” Teddy said. “But I never did try it but the one time.”

      “Then don’t say never,” Buck said. “One time won’t do it. Maybe Clea’d let you try jumping her mare…”

      “Which way is it to your place?” Clea interrupted.

      “East,” Buck said.

      She glanced at him in the mirror to find out which way that was. Jake shook his head. Couldn’t shoot, couldn’t drive and didn’t know east from west.

      “Naw, now watch it—you’re gonna hit the nose of our gooseneck,” Teddy shouted, having suddenly looked back instead of at the horse. “Give it some room. Watch it there, Clea.”

      She sent the trailer the wrong way again, toward theirs, but brought it back. Almost too quickly. Then she had it off the driveway on the right, the way it had to be, and they were moving past the Natural Bands trailer.

      She gave a huge sigh when it was done. Actually, they all did. No crash, no scrapes, no trouble. She maneuvered the trailer back onto the driveway, going for the road.

      “You’re good now. Give ‘er some gas,” Buck said.

      But she stepped on the brake.

      “Hey,” Jake said. Damn. Was this torture gonna last all night?

      “I’ve got to get out of this vest,” she said and Jake saw that her upper lip was filmed with sweat.

      She slipped her arms free and handed the fur to Jake, who laid it across his paper sack. It wafted her perfume to his nostrils, a light, citrusy scent that smelled as expensive as that luggage of hers had to be.

      The mare whinnied again, then took off and began to canter down the rail with a beautiful smooth gait that made her look to be floating just above the ground.

      “Look at the way that mare goes, boys,” Buck said. “She’ll reach and get it, won’t she?”

      Clea shifted in the seat and sat up straighter, then hit the gas and stayed on it until the trailer rolled straight down the drive and across the tin horn into the road.