The Cowboy Way. Christine Wenger

unsaddle Killer, brush him down and clean the tack.

      “There isn’t anything K.C. doesn’t know about kids or horses,” he reassured Beth. “He comes from a family of nine kids and owns some of the finest horses in Texas.”

      That didn’t seem to impress her. It was Kevin’s hopeful “Please, Mom?” that did it.

      Jake felt sorry for the kid. Although he liked the thought that Beth would be helping out on the overnight, she was a bit too overprotective and stifling. He’d bet his last saddle that Kevin needed a break from her.

      And she needed to relax.

      As Kevin disappeared behind the pines, she bit her nails.

      “You’re next,” Jake said, jumping down from the fence. He winced from the pain.

      “Maybe when Kevin comes back.”

      “Beth, Kevin’s fine. He’s on a short, easy walking trail that we call the Chisolm Trail. I guarantee he’s having the time of his life. C’mon, it’s your turn. You’re going to love the horse I picked out for you.”

      He gave a shrill whistle and a horse came trotting over. He watched Beth’s face for her reaction. It was just as he’d expected. She broke into a big grin, and he swore she was going to jump right out of her skin.

      Sidewinder, with his two white socks, belonged to his friend Dan Montague’s son, Danny. Luckily, they’d loaned the gentle horse to Wheelchair Rodeo, along with several others they’d raised on their neighboring spread. Jake had painted two more socks on Sidewinder with white shoe polish. Beth’s bright eyes and grin told him that it was well worth the trouble.

      “She’s a beauty, Jake. I don’t know how to thank you.”

      “She’s a ‘he.’” He shook his head. “I can see my work is cut out for me!”

      “What’s his real name?”

      “Thunder.”

      “No. Really—”

      “Thunder,” Jake insisted. “And he’s ready for some exercise. Let’s go saddle him up.”

      Jake opened the corral door for Beth. As Thunder nudged Beth’s shirt pocket with his nose, she stepped back laughing.

      He took her hand and dropped some sugar cubes onto her palm. “Flat on your hand.”

      “I remember.”

      His hand skimmed hers, and he felt as if he’d gone eight seconds with Prickly Pear again. When she looked up at him with her glittering green eyes, he felt as if he were free-falling. Sooner or later he knew he’d hit the ground and eat dirt.

      Why couldn’t he just walk away from Beth Conroy? He understood why he was drawn to her son. He saw the man he used to be in Kevin’s adoring eyes—not an over-the-hill, washed-up bull rider who’d been keeping the Justin Sports Medicine Program busy. Hell, Beth was everything he didn’t need—overprotective, stifling and bossy.

      He didn’t know the answer, but he was going to push it out of his mind and concentrate on Wheelchair Rodeo for now. If it killed him, he was going to be on top again. He’d win his event this Saturday, the Jake Dixon Gold Buckle Challenge. Then he’d pick up the PBR tour in August. He’d win the bull-riding Finals in Vegas in October. Maybe after that, he’d retire. Then again, maybe not.

      But if he did, he would retire a winner.

      “I’ll show you how to saddle and bridle your horse,” Jake said.

      Beth signaled her muscles to relax and not bunch. A nervous giggle escaped. She tried to cover it with a cough.

      “I’d bet my boots that you’ve never saddled a horse before,” Jake said.

      “Hope your socks are clean, because I’m going to win your boots.” She reached up and petted Thunder. “I did saddle a horse—once—many years ago. And I certainly read enough books about it when I was a kid. It’s probably like riding a bike. “

      “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let you do it alone, not the first time—but you’ll learn. Just like Kevin will learn. So will the rest of the kids who are cleared to ride. They’ll get a lot of help, and they’ll do what they can.”

      His hands moved to her waist. She jumped. He was only getting her into position, but her heart pumped hard, sending heat through her veins. His touch was harmless, not intimate at all. Yet it had been a long time since a man other than Brad had touched her. Every nerve in her body was humming.

      Jake lifted an orange-and-gray blanket that was draped over a metal stand and handed it to her. “Put that on his back. It’s made of heavy wool—cushions the horse from saddle sores and absorbs the sweat.”

      She took the blanket and placed it on Thunder.

      “Now the saddle. It weighs about thirty-five pounds. Can you handle it?”

      “Kevin weighs much more than that, and I lift him.”

      He felt the muscles in her upper arm and grinned. “I’m impressed. You’re a tough lady.”

      “I just do what I have to.”

      The smile left his face. “It must be difficult for you.”

      “He’s my son.”

      “If you don’t mind me saying so, you overprotect him.”

      She stared at him until she finally found her voice. “What gives you the right to judge me, Mr. Dixon?”

      “I can tell that—”

      “Do you have a degree in child psychology?” She picked up the saddle and flung it on Thunder’s back. She could have flung Jake Dixon up there, too.

      “I see you—”

      “Mr. Dixon, what I think you need to do is concentrate on roping and riding the range and doing whatever else a cowboy does. Leave the child rearing to someone who has a child to rear.”

      “How do you know I don’t have a child? Or a good dozen of them?”

      “All your publicity says…” A vein pumped on his temple. She’d hit a nerve.

      “Don’t believe everything you read,” he snapped. He took a couple of deep breaths and pushed his hat back. “Look, Beth, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was only going to say that you need to give the kid and yourself a break.”

      Maybe she was too overprotective of Kevin, but that was because she was determined not to let anything more happen to her son. She realized that she couldn’t guarantee she’d be able to keep him safe forever, but she could sure as hell try.

      “Let’s get back to the lesson,” she said.

      He held his hands up in surrender. “I’ll drop it.” He grinned. “For now.”

      “Forever.”

      He moved his hat back to its usual position. “Lift the left stirrup and hook it over the horn. Good. Grab the cinch strap. Good. Pull it through. Good. You got it. Nothing to it. Now tighten it up. Harder.”

      She grunted and tightened the strap as much as she could. She wasn’t a weakling. After the accident she had developed muscles that she hadn’t known she had.

      “Now what?”

      Jake gripped the saddle horn and jerked it. “Not good enough. Thunder puffed himself up.”

      “He did what?”

      “He doesn’t like being cinched, so he swells himself up. Brace yourself with a knee against his ribs—” he pointed “—about here.”

      “I can’t do that!”

      “It won’t hurt him.”

      “I still can’t do it.”