Familiar Showdown. Caroline Burnes

      This time Stephanie couldn’t stop the smile that she felt spread across her face. “Glad to hear that, Johnny, because I won’t tolerate such tactics. My grandfather was a horse gentler. His method has been passed down to me. I’ve never seen a horse that couldn’t be gentled.”

      Johnny nodded. “Then we’ll get along fine. Now I’d best get to my chores. I’ll move Black Jack and then go take care of that fence over by the pumphouse. By the time I finish with that, I reckon supper should be ready.”

      Stephanie stopped short. “That’s a good assumption. And pretty accurate, except for one thing. If you want a hot supper, you might get in the kitchen and cook it. I said I’d provide food. I didn’t say I’d be your chef.” She turned and walked away before Johnny could see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Sometimes it was too much fun to unsettle the gender expectations of a Wild West man.

      She’d hardly gone ten steps when she heard the sound of a vehicle. Her driveway sloped around the gentle swells of the land, disappearing from view and then reappearing on the top of the next hill. She put her hand up to shade her eyes as she spotted the black pickup stirring up a cloud of dust as it headed toward her.

      “Damn,” she said softly.

      Johnny examined the approaching vehicle. “Someone you know?”

      “The guy who owns Black Jack. Rupert Casper is his name, and he’s a real piece of work. His ranch is about two miles as the crow flies, maybe four miles if you take Dry Gulch Road,” she said. Johnny didn’t say anything, but Stephanie saw the muscle in his jaw jump into play.

      “You’d better take care of your shoulder,” he said without taking his eyes off the driveway. “I’ll explain to Mr. Casper that you’re indisposed.”

      Stephanie shook her head. “I wish it were that easy. Casper’s going to want to know how much progress I’ve made with Black Jack. When he finds out I can’t even lead him to his stall, he’s liable to shoot him on the spot.”

      Her words made the muscle in Johnny’s jaw bunch even tighter. “We’ll see about that.”

      Stephanie had no use for Rupert Casper, but she put a restraining hand on Johnny’s arm. This wasn’t a fight he could win. Neither could she. “It’s a long story, Johnny. Black Jack is his horse. The horse hurt Casper, and he was going to kill Black Jack but his men brought him over here two weeks ago. I’ve been dreading this moment.”

      The pickup stopped not twenty feet from Stephanie. Dust rolled over the top, and a tall man with perfectly trimmed blond hair got out from behind the wheel. His jeans were creased perfection and his boots were polished to a high sheen. The only flaw in his appearance was the white sling that held his left arm. Casper’s gaze swept over her bloody shoulder, torn shirt and dust-covered jeans.

      “Stephanie,” Rupert Casper said as he came forward. He looked at Johnny but didn’t acknowledge him. “How’s my horse doing?”

      “We’re making progress,” Stephanie said. She noticed that Familiar had left her side and was sniffing the tires on Rupert’s truck like a dog.

      “Did Black Jack do that to you?” Casper asked, pointing to her shoulder. He looked past her to the stallion in the round pen. The horse seemed to sense Rupert’s attention. He pinned his ears and snaked his head out, striking the metal panel with his teeth.

      “I did it to myself,” Stephanie said. “Black Jack’s a hard case. I won’t deny it. But he’ll come around.”

      “He’s a danger. I fired the two men who brought him over here. They disobeyed me when I told them to shoot him.”

      Stephanie could see that Casper took pleasure in his power. “They thought they were doing the right thing. They knew how much money you had invested in the horse.”

      “It’s my money.” He walked toward the round pen.

      Black Jack spun on his hindquarters.

      “He’s got a lot of potential,” Stephanie said. “If you’ll give me more time, I can bring him around, and he’ll make a champion cutting horse. He’s got the build and the bloodlines.”

      “He’s a rogue. I think the best thing I could do with him is cut my losses and put him in a dog-food can.” Casper walked back to his truck, opened the passenger-side door and brought out a rifle. “He’s as rank as he was the day he came here. Not even you can work magic on this beast.”

      He started walking toward the round pen.

      “You can’t shoot him here.” Stephanie looked at Johnny, who was watching the exchange without saying a word.

      “I’ll send one of the boys with a backhoe to bury him tomorrow.”

      “Rupert, you misunderstand me. I’m telling you that you can not shoot him on my property.” She stepped in front of Casper. “I won’t allow it.”

      Casper shifted the gun and a look of astonishment was quickly replaced by anger.

      Stephanie noticed that Johnny moved forward so quickly and with such grace that he was beside Rupert Casper in no time. Johnny was a good man to have on her side in a pinch.

      “Before you do anything, let me show you the progress we’ve made with Black Jack,” Johnny said softly.

      Rupert turned to him as if he’d just become aware of the other man’s presence. “Who the hell are you?”

      “Johnny Kreel.” He didn’t hold out his hand, and he didn’t say anything else. He went to the round pen, climbed over the panel and walked toward Black Jack without any hesitation.

      The stallion blew twice, his eyes rolling for a moment before Johnny caught his halter and snapped on the lead rope that he’d picked up. Without a wasted movement, he opened the gate, led the stallion out and away from Rupert and Stephanie.

      “Well, I’ll be damned,” Casper said. “No one’s ever been able to lead that horse.”

      Though she’d been leading Black Jack for the past two weeks, the horse wasn’t reliable. He’d be fine, and then he’d blow up, as he’d done earlier that day. Stephanie was amazed that Johnny had been able to handle him, but she was smart enough to keep it to herself.

      “We are making progress,” she said. “If you don’t want to keep Black Jack, I’ll buy him.” She’d offered more than once, though she had no idea where she’d get the money to pay for the horse. She’d figure something out.

      “He’s my horse,” Casper said. “If I can’t ride him, no one is going to.”

      That was typical of a man like Rupert Casper. Everything was a possession. It was ego, pride and vanity. “If you’ll give me some time, you’ll be riding him and taking blue ribbons in the cutting competitions.”

      Casper stared at the horse until Black Jack disappeared into the barn. “I’ll be back in a couple of days. We’ll see how much progress you’ve made.”

      Stephanie clamped her mouth shut, even though she wanted to shred Rupert Casper with her tongue. Casper was the kind of man who took his anger out on helpless creatures. Black Jack would suffer.

      When she turned away from the round pen, she saw the cat jump out the window of Casper’s truck. Rupert opened his truck door and swung in.

      “Son of a gun!” He jumped out of the truck as if the seats were on fire. To Stephanie’s amusement, she saw a dark circle of dampness on the butt of his creased jeans.

      “That cat peed in my truck!” Casper’s face was scarlet with anger. “I saw that black cat hanging around here. Where is he?” He still held the rifle and he swung around looking for the cat.

      Stephanie was loving every second of it. “Are you sure it’s cat urine?” She stepped over to the truck and caught the distinctive smell. “Pe-ew! It’s