Cowboy Comes Back / The Cowboy's Convenient Bride: Cowboy Comes Back / The Cowboy's Convenient Bride

“Tell me about him,” Libby said before disappearing into her own trailer and unloading her horse, a sturdy gray mare named Mouse. “Barton, I mean. All I know is he’s some rich guy from Chicago.”

“I don’t know much more than that about him. I’m putting miles on some colts for him.”

“No big political connections or anything?”

“I have no idea. Why?”

“Just wondering.” It had occurred to her that Ellen’s drive to rid the range of mustangs might be a maneuver to gain political favor; she could be doing a favor for someone influential in order to advance her career. Not too ethical, but if she was slick enough about it, it would be hard to prove.

Kade studied her, a slight frown creasing his forehead. No, she would not share her concerns with Kade. Once upon a time, yes, but not now.

Kade took Mouse’s lead rope and loaded her into his stock trailer next to the colt. The colt tried to get friendly and the mare flattened her ears.

“She’s as cranky as you are,” Kade said.

“You want company on this trip?”

Kade stepped out of the trailer and shut the door. “You know I do.” His voice was low and intimate. Libby’s belly tightened at the sound. At the memory of that voice in her ear, telling her what he wanted to do before he went ahead and did it.

She walked up to the truck and climbed inside. It smelled of Kade. She felt like leaning her hot forehead against the cool glass of the window.

Civil acquaintance. Civil acquaintance.

ONCE THEY’D REACHED the trailhead and unloaded the already saddled horses, Kade mounted easily, displaying none of the stiffness that bronc riders tended to show as they aged.

“Ready?” He was already looking up the trail, his strong profile sharply contrasted against the pale apricot sky.

“Yeah.”

Technically, she should have been leading the way since she was the guide, but Libby didn’t mind being behind him. It gave her a barrier as she recalled all the times they’d ridden in the mountains as teens—escaping together. She remembered the good times and felt cheated that things had turned out as they had.

You’re here to find a horse, not to whine about the past.

Libby straightened in the saddle, focused on the mission. She’d seen Blue three times since she and Kade had released him, all in an official capacity. The first time Libby had checked on Blue’s herd, almost ten years after his release, she hadn’t expected to find the stud still alive, figuring that a domestic horse probably would have perished due to the harsh conditions in which mustangs lived. But no. He’d not only survived, he’d thrived. His herd was about half roan, blues, reds and even a few lilacs. And thankfully they were remote, rarely monitored or gathered.

It wasn’t until the valley had burned two years ago that she’d dealt with the herd again. There’d been no adoptions, since the herd was small and healthy. Because of Glen and his dislike of bureaucracy, they’d simply moved the herd to another valley. No red tape, no protocol. For all Libby knew, Glen hadn’t even had the authority to make such a move. She’d never asked because she preferred not knowing. The important thing was that the herd was located in a place where they could find adequate range.

Libby followed Kade for more than an hour before urging Mouse ahead to catch up with him.

“They could be in any one of these drainages,” she said. “We released them lower in the valley and they migrated up these drainages for the feed. They go lower in the winter, of course.” Too low, since the herd had intruded on grazing allotments and now a rich man wasn’t happy about that.

Too bad for the rich man.

THEY CRESTED A LOW, sage-covered ridge and rode into yet another drainage when Kade pulled his horse to a stop. Below them they saw a herd, maybe forty-strong. And more than half of them were roans. Blue had done his job. Kade pulled a small pair of binoculars out of his shirt pocket and trained them on the herd, which, having caught sight of them, started to move. The lead mare had a nice new bay baby by her side, and there, traveling beside the strung-out mares, was a stocky red roan, the spitting image of Blue, except for the color.

But no Blue.

Kade frowned as he scanned the horses. Several blue roans, but none large and sturdy enough to be his horse. He gave a start when Libby touched his sleeve.

He followed the direction she was pointing, then lifted the binoculars.

“Oh, damn,” he murmured. There was Blue, a good two or three hundred yards behind the herd, alone. Limping slightly. And skinny. Very skinny.

“I think his son might be taking the herd away from him,” Libby said.

“Yeah.” Kade could think of nothing better to say. He’d been prepared for the possibility that he wouldn’t find Blue with the herd. Accidents happened in the wild. But he hadn’t been prepared to see his horse struggling behind the herd, trying to keep up with the band he had once led.

And then, as if on cue, the younger stud charged back, threatening Blue, who stopped, tried to turn on his haunches and went down due to his bad back leg. The red roan stopped, having made his point, and returned to the flank of the herd. The mares continued on down the canyon as if nothing had happened, the lead mare disappearing around a corner and into the aspens that grew along the creek as Blue hefted himself to his feet again.

Blue followed determinedly along behind them. When he disappeared from sight, Kade lowered the glasses.

“I’m sorry,” Libby said quietly. No other words followed.

Kade swallowed and then gave his head one sad shake before turning his horse around on the trail. When his knee came even with Libby’s, he met her eyes. Yeah, she felt for him.

“He probably had a better life out here than he’d have had with my old man,” Kade said. And it was true. The old man never would have sold Blue, since the stud had impeccable breeding and he could have gotten some healthy stud fees out him, totally ignoring the fact that the stud had been a gift to Kade from his grandfather just before he’d passed away.

“No doubt,” she said impassively.

It would have been better to make this discovery alone, but if someone had to be with him, he was glad it was Libby. “Let’s go,” he said.

They made their way back down the trail, and now that the horses sensed they were heading for the trailer, they picked up their pace.

It’s the way it has to be. It’s the way life ends for a stallion in the wild. Pushed away from his herd by a younger horse. Blue had undoubtedly done the same to the herd’s previous stallion.

But logic and common sense didn’t ease the picture of Blue going down and then limping after the herd. Kade doubted anything would.

LIBBY RECOGNIZED THE effort Kade was putting into keeping his face expressionless. Matter-of-fact. But the sixteen-year-old kid in him, the one who’d loved this horse so much that he’d set him free, had to be dying inside right now.

The ride back took forever, despite the horses’ faster gaits, and Libby was relieved to see the truck and trailer sitting on the road below when they came over the final ridge.

Almost over. Duty almost done. And then she could go back to her place and get on with her life. She had problems of her own to sort out. Kade wasn’t one of them. And except in a professional capacity, neither was Blue. She couldn’t do a thing for either of them.

It was a long drive home. They were both tired and Kade remained quiet. Preoccupied. Neither of them spoke until he pulled into the driveway.

Kade turned off the ignition and then once again Libby said, “Sorry about Blue.”

“I knew what I was getting into when I decided to find him.”

He might have known, but he hadn’t been prepared.

Neither of them made a move to get out of the truck. Kade leaned his elbow against the door, propping his head on his hand as he stared at the sorry old house.

“What now, Kade?” Libby asked softly. She’d thought he’d talk about Blue, but he didn’t.

“I’m selling as soon as I get it into some kind of selling shape.”

Good. She was almost ashamed of the thought. Almost. But it would make her life so much easier if he just left. “Why not sell it as is? There’s a market.”