Her Kind Of Cowboy. Pat Warren

pretty high-spirited.”

      “That’s fine and you want some of that. But he also has to learn to interact with people and other horses.”

      A light breeze shifted a lock of Abby’s hair and settled it on her cheek. Jesse’s hand half raised to brush it back when he stopped himself. He hadn’t the right to touch her, not yet. Maybe not ever.

      Now that he had her here, he searched his mind about how best to tell her the truth. Before he could speak, Abby interrupted his nervous thoughts.

      “How do you go about breaking a horse? For years I’ve watched how they do it here and I’m not real happy with their methods.”

      Jesse took a step closer to where she sat, inhaling her soft floral scent. “The original horse whisperer, the man who taught my father, and then later Dad taught me, didn’t believe in breaking horses. He called it starting them or joining up, as the horse joins with man. That sort of communication results in the horse voluntarily cooperating.”

      She wondered if his short beard would feel soft or prickly, then chided herself for her roving thoughts. “We have this mare that absolutely won’t take the bit, won’t cooperate at all. Dad got her from a friend in a trade. No one can seem to get through to her. I don’t suppose you’d want to give it a try?” Then she quickly thought better of the request. “Oh, but, I shouldn’t ask since that’s not why you’re here.”

      “I’d like to try. I can’t work with Remus all day. You work a little, then let him rest and remember what he’s learned. Then go back and try again.” He smiled up at her. “Keep in mind, though, that I’m not a magician.”

      “Absolutely. I just wondered if there was a better way. I hate the idea of dominating any animal, making him give up his will to suit ours. It seems wrong.”

      “I think it is. Along the way, the owner gets frustrated, which can cause him to hurt the horse he’s trying to grind down into submission. The male ego is the cause of most horse cruelty.”

      She smiled down at him. “And as a man, you don’t have a problem admitting that?”

      “No, because I’m not one of those men.”

      “I’m glad you explained things to me.” She had no reason to linger and should probably go in.

      Jesse held out his hand to help her down.

      Feet on the ground, her eyes went to his big hand that all but swallowed hers. Suddenly, her heart picked up a beat as something familiar caught her eye.

      There on his thumb was an X, a scar she remembered. Jesse Hunter had told her he’d gotten cut on a barbed wire fence when he was only ten, leaving a clear scar in the shape of an X. How could two men with the same first name have so similar a scar?

      Still gripping his hand, Abby’s eyes rose to his, questions swimming in them. “This scar…it can’t be! But it is. You and Jesse Hunter, you’re one and the same!”

      Disbelief and shock had her trembling as the truth slammed into her. “Oh, God!”

      Chapter Three

      “Please, Abby, I can explain.” He raised a hand to touch her, but she stepped back out of reach.

      “Explain? You lied to me six years ago when you said you’d come back and explain why you left.” Her voice was trembling and she fought to control it. “Why? I want to know why.” And why now, when she’d just about stopped thinking of him daily.

      Jesse wondered if the truth would really make her feel better. He had to try. “Sometimes my name can be an obstacle in getting to know someone. I was trying to get experience working with cattle because my father wanted to add cows to the ranch, to diversify.”

      “Why couldn’t you just be honest and say that? My father would have…”

      “…never hired me if he’d known I was a Calder. I needed to be anonymous, to be just one of the men so I could learn from the ground up.” Jesse scraped a hand over his beard, searching for the right words. “I never meant to hurt anyone, least of all you.”

      Angry, hurt, breathing hard, Abby just stared at him, as a variety of emotions bombarded her. She waited. There had to be more.

      He shuffled his feet, wondering why he’d thought this would be easier than it was turning out to be. “That summer, my brother went to a ranch in Montana to learn all about sheep because Dad didn’t know if he wanted to add cattle or sheep. He used the name Hunter, too.”

      “Did he romance a girl there, too? Did he lie to her, then leave her hanging?” Her eyes struggling with tears, she stared into his, daring him to contradict her. Jesse had lied about his name. What else had he lied about?

      The sound of male laughter floated out of the open door of the barn. “Please, I have a lot more to tell you. Could we walk a ways?” He honestly hadn’t realized the depth of her hurt. Did his leaving send her into the arms of another man, the one she’d so hastily married?

      Abby shook her head, edged away from him. “You’re a little late with your explanations. Six years too late.” She needed to get away before the tears burning her eyes fell and let him see just how badly he’d upset her. Again.

      “Abby, I always knew you to be fair. I’m asking you to walk with me, to hear me out. Fifteen minutes. Is that too much to ask?” He’d never begged before, but he had to make her see.

      She could give him that much. A part of her wanted to hear the rest. “All right. Fifteen minutes.” She checked her watch. “It’s more than you deserve.”

      They began to walk away from the round pen and the barn, down a jagged path toward the stream that snaked through the ranch. The smell of mesquite peppered the air with its pungent aroma, mingling with the scent of wild honeysuckle. The heat of the day was at half power with the retreat of the sun and a light breeze cooled things down. The hoot of an owl echoed from a distance as night birds twittered in the trees.

      A perfect night for an imperfect couple.

      Jesse touched her elbow to guide her toward a large rock alongside a weeping willow at the water’s edge, but she jerked away. At the rock, she turned to look at him. “I thought you wanted to talk. You’ve already wasted several minutes.”

      He faced her, gauging his words. She was actually going to hold him to a time limit. Beneath the hurt in her eyes, he saw anger and hoped he could erase it. “I lied about my name, but that was all I lied about, Abby. I never lied about how I felt about you. I fully intended to return and tell you who I really was after I’d made sure my father had survived his heart attack. But about fifty miles from home, a drunken driver in a pickup hit my convertible head-on.”

      Her eyes widened at this news, but she stood silent.

      He could have told her about how they’d had to rebuild his nose, about his clavicle broken in two places, his collapsed lung, the removal of his spleen, the four surgeries on his leg that would never be exactly the same and the crushed vertebrae in his back that would likely give him pain for the rest of his life. He could have, but he chose not to. The last thing he wanted was her pity.

      “Ironically, I wound up in the same hospital as my dad, only he got to go home before me. I was pretty badly banged up, in a coma for over a week, then months of healing and physical therapy.”

      She didn’t want to feel sympathy for him, but she couldn’t help it. Months recovering from a head-on collision. And she’d had no idea. “Why didn’t you call me?”

      “I couldn’t for the first few weeks, but I phoned as soon as I was able. I talked to Lindsay. She told me you’d gotten married and moved away.”

      Abby shifted her eyes to the stars in the cloudless sky, studying them as if the answers were spelled out there. “I tried finding you. I called every Hunter family in northern California. I checked on the Internet on a link for traveling ranch hands. Naturally,