Keeping up a tranquilizing flow of conversation, Liz slowly and carefully trimmed the stallions heels. Whoa, boy. She fitted the cooled shoes, reheated and reshaped them until they were exact. I guarantee these wont cramp your style with the ladies.
Night Fire whiffled uneasily as she got out her ruler to measure his front feet.
Tailoring shoes took time and was hot tedious work. By the time Liz had molded them to her liking, the only thing on her mind was nailing them home, then breaking for a tall glass of cold lemonade.
Lunch was definitely out. Rafe had said he needed her in the east pasture this afternoon to reshoe three geldings whod thrown shoes during roundup. Liz doubted shed finish today, especially since she had to meet Melodys school bus at three-thirty. Pulling old shoes and checking for any sign of hoof disease simply couldnt be rushed. Meticulous as shed heard Spencer was, Liz was equally so.
Suddenly, when she was almost done, Night Fire began to fight her. Whoa, fella, whats wrong? Loosening the tie rope, Liz played it out.
As the powerful horse reared and rose above her, Liz saw the problem. A cowboya drifter by the look of himlimped down the lane leading a mare, whose scent was all it took to drive Night Fire wild.
Liz fought back simmering anger. Dolt! Couldnt he see the stallion?
GIL SPENCERS SIGHTS were set on getting home. About a mile out, Shady Lady had stepped in a prairie-dog hole, thrown a shoe and pulled up lame. It was damned hot out, and Gils boots werent made for walkingno real cowboys boots were. Late last night, hed given the last water in his canteen to the mare. Right now, he was about as dry as a man could be.
And he was mad. For three days hed been trailing a stock-killing cougar. Today hed had the cat cornered. All at once the wily animal had escaped into a rock-strewn canyon, to hide in any one of a hundred caves. So hed been in a foul mood even before Shady Ladys accident. Now all that interested Gil was getting shut of the heavy saddle hed packed a mile and drinking the well dry. That, and showering off several layers of roundup grime. The very last thing Gilman Spencer dreamed hed see when he hobbled toward the Lone Spurs main barn was some woman wrangling his most expensive stud.
Was she nuts?
Dropping the saddle and Shady Ladys reins, Gil forgot his exhaustion. His thoughts centered on getting the woman out of the corral in one piece and without a lawsuit. Unfortunately Gil also forgot that his bones were thirty-four years old, not nineteen, as he vaulted the fence. Landing much too hard, he fell. His legs buckled and his Stetson flew off, spooking Night Fire.
The stallion screamed and lashed out with the foot nearest Liz. Although his kick was negligible as kicks go, she wasnt expecting it, and she was thrown a good three feet across the corralsunglasses one way, Liz the other. She landed smack on her backside in the hard-packed dirt.
Gil straightened and froze. His heart pounded, his legs quaked. Was she okay? Lord! Up close she was no bigger than a minuteand Night Fire stood sixteen hands. Gil dug deep for the wherewithal to race to the womans side.
Too late to matter, Liz connected the man shed seen in the lane with Night Fires unprovoked attack. Furious, she leapt to her feet and dusted off her smarting rump. You may dress like a cowboy, she shouted, but you lack the brains the Almighty gave a gnat. Hasnt anyone ever told you not to sneak up on a farrier at work? And never, never surprise a person working in close quarters with a stallion. Liz shook a small fist under the unkempt offenders nose.
Is that so? Gil had heard about enough of the ladys lip.
Who, he asked icily, gave you permission to be in close quarters with that stud? Flashing hazel eyes raked every scrawny inch of her before the man snatched up his Stetson and jammed it back on sweaty russet locks that needed a good trim.
None of your beeswax. Liz didnt like the saddle bums superior attitude. He wasnt the first man whod presumed he could give the orders because she tackled what was deemed mens work. Shed met twice his arrogance on the rodeo circuit. But this man had no right taking his error out on her. Rest assured Im doing the job Ive been hired to do, she snapped.
Really? Who hired you?
God! So, take a hike. Liz stood her ground even though the stranger hovered over her. Or better yet, she said, wrinkling her nose, take a bath.
He didnt move. And that was when it dawned on Liz that this saddle tramp might have blown in from Spencers roundup. Cursing her hot temper, she whirled to check on Night Fire. What if this know-it-all jerk carried tales back to his boss?
Look, lady Gil clamped down on his anger I dont know who authorized you to shoe any horse of mine, let alone my prize stud, but I guaran-damn-tee this is your last job on the Lone Spur.
Liz turned back and let her eyes take a leisurely stroll from the top of his crusty Stetson to the tips of his run-down boots. Then she laughed. Your horse? Ive seen down-and-out bronc riders at the rodeo where I worked who looked more prosperous than you. I guaran-damntee Gilman Spencerd know his prize stallions hooves were split, and that without shoes and wet packs those feet will break down.
If her grating laughter hadnt been enough to make Gil see red, her jab about the rodeo definitely did. Nobody, but nobody, mentioned bronc riders in Gil Spencers presencenot if they wanted to keep their teeth. Half the state of Texas had known before he did that his wifenow ex-wifeGinger spent her nights in bronc rider Avery Amistads bed.
The hurt went deeper than mere infidelity. Gil had needed Gingers support while he worked his butt off pulling the Lone Spur out of the financial mess his father had left it in. But hed been understanding about her desire to become a number-one barrel racer. So understanding that hed hired Ben Jones to help care for their infant twins while his dear wife followed the rodeo.
No, Gil didnt like anything about rodeos.
Gil was furious at this woman for reminding him of humiliations hed managed to suppress. But dammit, he thought, as he took a closer look at Night Fires hooves, she was right about the splits.
As Liz watched the stranger run sure hands down the stallions leg, a sick feeling began to grow in her stomach. Rafe Padilla hired me two weeks ago, she stated firmly, assuminghopingthat would straighten things out.
The woman now seemed subdued, a fact that cooled Gils temper. Even supposing Rafe had hired her, Gil would never allow anyone connected to the rodeo to stay on his ranch. If thats true, he sighed, my beef is with Rafe. But it changes nothing. Stow your gear and be on your way. He glanced away as huge brown eyes blinked up at him, then retreated into blankness again.
Lizs brain stalled. She saw all her hopes, all her dreams for Melody, slipping away.
I see you still doubt whos giving you your walking papers, the man said harshly. Heres my drivers license. He pulled a plastic sleeve out of his wallet and sailed it toward her. It plopped at her feet, kicking up a tiny cloud of dust.
Night Fire reared again and pawed the ground. Liz scooped the plastic out of the dirt before climbing through the rails. A terrible crushing weight trapped the air in her lungs as she scanned the picture of a ruggedly handsome clean-shaven man who bore scant resemblance to this scruffy cowpoke. Except for maybe the cool hazel eyes that could freeze a womans soul. And the name, Gilman Spencer, that leapt off the paper to taunt her.