Last Chance Cowboy

He nodded contemplatively.

“You’d still have to pay a fee.”

“How much?”

“I don’t know for certain. I can find out if you want. Most of the horses are adopted for a few hundred dollars. My guess is it would be something in that range.”

Another nod. Gavin Powell was clearly a man of few words.

“I have one week to round up the horse. After that, I’ll be staying in Scottsdale with relatives until the end of the month. My daughter’s there now, I dropped her off on the way.” She paused, giving herself a mental shake. Why did she feel the need to rattle off personal information? “If you don’t object, the horse can stay here with you on your ranch while I’m in Scottsdale. You’ll have a chance to observe him, work with him, see if he … meets your needs.”

She waited while he mulled over her proposition. He didn’t take long to make his decision.

“Deal.” He extended his hand.

“Good. Glad that’s resolved.”

Shaking his hand for the second time that afternoon, she tried to hide her relief. Like before, she noticed both strength and assurance in his callused fingers. Gavin Powell was definitely one of those men who didn’t make his living sitting behind a desk.

“Would you like something in writing?” She asked. “I can have the office fax—”

“Not necessary. I was raised to take someone at their word. And not to give mine unless I intend to keep it.”

She didn’t doubt that. “Then we’re in agreement.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Sage. We’re going to be working together, after all.”

“Gavin.”

She smiled.

So did he. And though reserved, it both transformed him and disarmed her. She hadn’t noticed his vivid blue eyes or the pleasingly masculine lines of his face until now.

For a moment, Sage lost track of her thoughts. Standing, she promptly gathered them.

“About that stall for my mare.”

“Sure.” He also stood. “You can pull your truck around to the stables and unload her there.”

“Any chance I can park my trailer here? My cousin’s homeowners association won’t allow me to leave it there.”

“No problem.”

They went through the back of the house rather than the front door where Sage had entered. She caught a whiff of something tantalizing when they entered the kitchen, reminding her that all she’d eaten since breakfast was a semistale leftover doughnut and a snack-size box of raisins Isa must have accidentally left in her purse.

A man stood at the stove, stirring a pot. He turned and before Gavin introduced the man, she recognized the resemblance.

“Dad, this is Sage Navarre. From the BLM. My dad, Wayne.”

“The BLM?” Confusion clouded Wayne Powell’s face, then abruptly cleared. “Oh. Yeah. I forgot. Someone called last week.”

“That’s what I heard.”

To Gavin’s credit, if he was annoyed at his father, he didn’t let on. There was no point anyway; they’d reached an agreement about the horse.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Navarre.”

“Sage,” she told Gavin’s father.

“Will you be in Mustang Valley long?”

“A week at the most.”

“We’d better tend to that mare of yours,” Gavin said, inclining his head toward the door.

Sage got the hint. Gavin didn’t wish to prolong the conversation with his father. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Powell.”

“Enjoy your stay. I hope to see you again.” He smiled, but it was mechanical and flat. Nothing like his son’s.

“I’m counting on it,” she answered cheerfully, and followed Gavin outside.

“I’ll meet you in front of the stables,” he told her.

They parted, and Sage headed toward her truck. As she drove the short distance to the stables, she caught sight of Cassie watching from the back porch, her form partially obscured by a thick wooden column.

Without thinking, Sage waved. Cassie ducked her head behind the column, then reappeared a second later, waving shyly in return.

An interesting family, Sage mused, though a little unusual. She supposed there was a lot more to them than met the eye.

Pulling up in front of the stables, she reminded herself why she was in Mustang Valley: capture the wild horse and collect four years’ worth of back child support from her ex.

Any distractions, most especially those in the form of a good-looking cowboy, were counterproductive. Not to mention inviting trouble.

Chapter Two

Gavin waited as Sage unlatched the trailer door and swung it wide. He expected the horse to bolt backward as most did after a long ride. Not so this one. The mare lifted her left rear foot and placed it gingerly down, as if not quite believing solid ground awaited. Her right rear foot followed, then the rest of her compact and sturdy body emerged inch by inch. Once standing on all fours, she turned her head with the regality of a visiting dignitary and surveyed her new surroundings.

“She’s a good-looking horse.” In fact, Gavin had never seen one with that same charcoal-gray coloring.

“Her name’s Avaro.” Sage reached under the mare’s impressively long mane to stroke her neck. “It’s Spanish for greedy. And trust me, it fits. She attacks every meal like it’s her last.”

“A mustang?”

“She was brought in on a roundup about three years ago in the Four Corners area. I had another horse at the time, a good one. But as soon as I saw Avaro, I wanted her.”

Gavin could appreciate that. He felt the same about his mustang.