Her Holiday Rancher

“Come on.” Gabe grabbed hold of his mare’s reins and mounted with the grace and ease of someone who rode daily. Once seated, he stared at her expectantly.

“What?” she asked.

He patted the mare’s hindquarters. “Climb aboard. Daylight’s wasting.”

Reese blinked in astonishment. “You’re suggesting we ride double?”

“Your horse won’t make it thirty feet carrying you.”

Did he believe her a nitwit? Just because she’d been away from Mustang Valley for a long time didn’t mean she’d forgotten everything she’d ever learned.

“I was planning on walking.” She picked her hat off the ground from where it had fallen. “At least to the road.”

“I’ll take you,” he said, as if it were already decided. He removed his left foot from the stirrup.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“You’re tuckered out. And it’ll be dark soon.”

He was right. The sun had started dropping, along with the temperature. General was wet and starting to shake. If she didn’t get him moving soon, he’d catch a chill. Her, too.

“Fine.”

He raised one brow as if to remark, “Funny way of saying thanks.”

Gabe had always been able to convey enormous emotion using very few words. It was a quality she’d found intriguing from the time they were young. That, and his good looks. His Hispanic heritage, courtesy of his mother, blended beautifully with his Dempsey genes. Dark hair, silver-gray eyes, a strong jaw, tanned complexion and a wide mouth created for kissing.

Not that she had kissed him. Or even thought about it. Okay, not much.

She and Gabe had grown up neighbors, but also rivals, thanks to their fathers’ lifelong feud. They’d steered as clear of each other as much as humanly possible in a small community the size of Mustang Valley.

Six months ago, she’d returned after a twelve-year absence. This afternoon was the first time she and Gabe had spoken since the night of their senior prom.

She should, she supposed, thank him for something else besides saving General. He’d kept his promise and said nothing about her pregnancy. If he had, she would have heard. Secrets like hers were too titillating to resist repeating.

Holding General’s reins with her right hand, she clasped Gabe’s outstretched one with her left. Then, putting her foot in the empty stirrup, she let him assist her onto the mare’s back.

“Can she carry the two of us?” she asked, settling in behind Gabe. The mare was on the small side and worn out after her recent efforts.

“She’ll manage.”

The next moment, they were off. At the mare’s first hop over a hole, Reese grabbed Gabe’s middle rather than be dumped on the ground. She swore he chuckled beneath his breath. Or it might have been the wind.

“How’s he doing?” Gabe asked after a few minutes.

Reese looked behind her at General, and her heart hurt. “He’s limping on his right rear leg.”

“Will he make it to the road?”

“I think so.” Then she could call the house and have someone from the Small Change meet them with a truck and trailer.

If her phone had worked when General fell into the sinkhole, she wouldn’t have had to rely on Gabe’s help. She’d tried repeatedly to get a signal, but there had been none. She was lucky he’d ridden by. And that it was today rather than tomorrow, after the reading of August Dempsey’s will.

“Thank you again,” she said. “I owe you.”

He simply grunted.

“For a lot more than saving General,” she added, wondering if he understood her meaning.

“I’m a man of my word.”

Okay, he did understand. “For which I’m very appreciative.”

She waited for him to ask her what had happened to the baby. Where she’d gone when she left Mustang Valley. What she’d done. If she’d ever told Blake Nolan, the baby’s father.

Gabe remained stoically silent, and she sensed an unmistakable tension coursing through him.

The next mile passed slowly. Every few minutes, Reese checked on General. His limp was getting worse, and she gritted her teeth. How far to the road? She craned her neck in order to look ahead over Gabe’s broad shoulder.

In hindsight, she should have waited to take General out until later in the week when she was less busy. But she hated seeing the stout gelding cooped up day after day in his stall, barely ridden.

It wasn’t her father’s fault. He would exercise General every day if his health permitted. This morning, simply crawling out of bed to attend August Dempsey’s funeral had been a challenge. Riding was out of the question.

“It was nice of you to come today,” Gabe said, rousing her from her thoughts.

“My father may not have gotten along with yours, but he respected him greatly. We wouldn’t have missed the funeral.”

Gabe’s response was another noncommittal grunt.

The mare stumbled on the steep incline, causing Reese to grip Gabe’s waist tighter.

“Maybe I should get off and walk,” she suggested, acutely aware of his broad, strong back through the thick fabric of his coat.

“We’re almost to the road.”

It was the longest fifteen minutes ever. Immediately upon dismounting, she examined General. The poor horse was on the verge of collapsing.

She got on her cell phone, and breathed a sigh of relief when her call connected.

“Hi, Dad.” She summarized the situation, including how Gabe had rescued her and General.

“I’m glad you’re all right and that Gabe was riding by.” Relief filled his voice. “He’s a good man.”

Reese knew her father’s praise was sincere. The rivalry between him and August Dempsey was strictly over business and had nothing to do with character. In another lifetime, under different circumstances, the two might have been friends.

“I’ll tell him myself when I see him,” her father continued.

“No, Dad. You’ve had a long day.” She turned away from Gabe, who still sat astride the mare, and said in a low voice, “You need your rest. Send Enrico.”