High Country Cowgirl
Joanna Sims
The road trip is just the beginningEver since Gabe Brand transported a show horse and its lovely owner to their new ranch home, the Montana trainer has had it bad for Bonita Delafuente.The heiress came to Montana o make her terminally ill mother’s western dream a reality. But with her dreams already on hold, can Bonita make room in her life for a cowboy with love in his heart?
A cowboy. A woman. A horse.
The road trip is just the beginning.
Ever since Gabe Brand transported a show horse and its lovely owner to their new ranch home, the Montana trainer has had it bad for Bonita Delafuente. The DC heiress came to Montana to make her terminally ill mother’s Western dream a reality. But with her dreams already on hold, can Bonita make room in her life for a cowboy with love in his heart?
JOANNA SIMS is proud to pen contemporary romance for Mills & Boon True Love. Joanna’s series, The Brands of Montana, features hardworking characters with hometown values. You are cordially invited to join the Brands of Montana as they wrangle their own happily-ever-afters. And, as always, Joanna welcomes you to visit her at her website, joannasimsromance.com (http://www.joannasimsromance.com).
Also by Joanna Sims (#ulink_65e7d683-9251-529e-9f06-4b4cf3a4c4e7)
A Bride for Liam Brand
A Wedding to Remember
Thankful for You
Meet Me at the Chapel
High Country Baby
High Country Christmas
A Match Made in Montana
Marry Me, Mackenzie!
The One He’s Been Looking For
A Baby for Christmas
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
High Country Cowgirl
Joanna Sims
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07803-0
HIGH COUNTRY COWGIRL
© 2018 Joanna Sims
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dedicada a mi amiga querida...
Maria
Y a toda la ente valiente de Puerto Rico!
Dedicated to my dear friend...
Maria
And to all of the brave people of Puerto Rico!
Contents
Cover (#u2f8cf0de-38c0-503f-bd12-99f61f4cadd2)
Back Cover Text (#u0d706ce5-e198-5d5e-a2a4-a104fc5aee4d)
About the Author (#u2ead325b-84fb-5280-96e3-51765404606c)
Booklist (#ulink_05b2b8a0-b339-5e4c-a4e0-3d0a4c03c877)
Title Page (#u5774f817-54cf-5304-a6cd-8a15ffaee0b0)
Copyright (#u5a41f3bd-df63-5e5a-9f74-93222d2ceb6b)
Dedication (#u440d8d1a-cf20-567e-8b90-6e348b5569f2)
Chapter One (#u050e7023-1ba7-5399-8296-e9624a4dd905)
Chapter Two (#uc3e97c91-647d-5586-b80a-5d5c875e0c57)
Chapter Three (#uab87a603-81fe-5793-a217-f6407e958f34)
Chapter Four (#ubbd844ec-7be6-542d-ae00-8b796e82836b)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_fd2e477c-7f21-5f6b-94a1-6ba936c2c544)
Rancher Gabe Brand would never forget the day he first saw Bonita Delafuente.
It was a typical cloudless summer day in Montana: warm enough to make a man sweat but not so hot that he couldn’t get some work done at high noon. He’d finally gotten around to cleaning his two-horse trailer, something he’d been putting off for weeks. Gabe had already sweated through his shirt, so he’d taken it off and hung it on a nearby fence post. With Johnny Cash playing on the phone in his back pocket, Gabe was pouring more gas into his pressure washer when he heard the faint sound of Tater, his dog, barking from inside the house. Tater, who was geriatric at this point, preferred sleep above all activities and only made the effort to bark when someone came up the drive.
Gabe put down the gas can and walked toward the front of the house. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but that didn’t mean much. People often landed in his driveway hunting for the main entrance to his family’s ranch, Sugar Creek.
“Hello, young man. We’re looking for Gabe Brand.”
An older gentleman with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair and a bit of a beer gut rounded the corner of Gabe’s cabin. Walking beside the older man was a younger woman wearing English riding clothes. It was unusual to see someone wearing that kind of riding gear—most folks he knew rode Western.
“For better or worse, you found him.” Gabe reached for his shirt and shrugged it on.
“I’m hoping for the better,” the man said.
The minute Gabe got a good look at the woman’s face, he was smitten.
“George Delafuente.” The older man offered his hand. “And, this is my daughter, Bonita.”
George had a firm handshake and carried himself like a man who had made his own way in the world. Gabe made note of the gold-and-diamond-encrusted Rolex his visitor was wearing. Yes, George had all of the trappings of a Montana native—jeans, cowboy boots and button-down striped shirt tucked in tight. Yet all the clothing was too clean, too new, too expensive-looking to be owned by a working rancher.
Gabe shook the man’s hand and then turned his attention to the daughter.
“Beautiful,” he said rather dumbly as he shook her hand.
Behind her mirrored designer sunglasses, Bonita looked at him in surprise. “I’m sorry?”
“Your name. It means beautiful in Spanish, doesn’t it? That’s about the only word, other than hola and adios, that I can seem to remember from high school Spanish.”
Bonita pulled her hand back, her full lips unsmiling. “Yes. My parents took a gamble on that one.”
No gamble at all, as far as Gabe could see. He had ranched all of his life and had made a good living training and transporting high-priced horses across the country. He’d met a lot of women along the way. None had been as lovely, to his eyes, as Bonita. Her sable-colored hair, wavy and worn loose down to her narrow waist, framed her oval face in the most lovely way; the light, occasional breeze sent tendrils of hair dusting across her tawny cheeks.
Gabe liked how slender her fingers looked as she tucked those wayward strands behind her ear. And he noted that she wasn’t wearing a wedding or engagement ring on her left hand. Her handshake had been firm and strong, belying how delicate her hand seemed to be. This was a woman confident in her own skin, who seemed unafraid to assert herself in a man’s world.
“Do you have a minute to talk some business?” George asked him.
Gabe caught Bonita glancing at his bare chest and stomach and fastened a couple of buttons to appear more suitable for mixed company. Everything about Bonita read class act—from her polished black riding boots to the well-tailored fawn-colored breeches that hugged her hips and shapely legs to the brilliant diamond stud earrings and matching diamond tennis bracelet.
He was sweaty and dirty and had no doubt that he’d made a less-than-sterling first impression with this woman.
“I’ve got a minute.” Gabe gave a nod. “Can I get you folks something to drink?”
“No. Thank you.” George checked his phone briefly before he continued. “We don’t want to impose on you.”
“No imposition.” They walked together to stand in the shade of one of the large ponderosa pine trees near his cabin. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m not sure you can do anything for us, actually,” Bonita said, her head turned away from him, her arms crossed in front of her body. Her body language wasn’t difficult to read—she wanted to leave.
George glanced at her before he said, “We’ve got a horse back East that we need brought to Montana. He’s a graduation present...” George smiled proudly at his daughter “...and your brother told me that you’re the best transporter in the business.”
“I don’t know about the best, but I know what it takes to get a horse home safe.” Gabe spoke to both of them, even though it seemed to him that Bonita had already made up her mind about him. “Which of my brothers has been bragging about me? My pop had a litter.”
George had an easy smile; his daughter, from Gabe’s brief experience, did not.
“Dr. Brand,” George said. “He was out at our place for my wife’s horse. Your brother is one of the most competent vets I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen my share.” The man pointed at him. “That’s why I’m inclined to believe him about you.”
“I’ve been hauling horses for the better part of my life.”
Bonita had been looking everywhere but at him. “This isn’t just any horse.” That’s when she looked at him. “Vested Interest is an Oldenburg. He’s seventeen hands tall.” She nodded her head toward his two-horse trailer. “That trailer is way too small.”
As pretty as this woman was, Gabe bristled at the condescension in her tone. It was coming across to him that she thought he was a dumb cowboy who didn’t know one horse from the next. He didn’t bother to tell her that he’d trained Oldenburgs along the way—what would be the point? Yes, he could always use the business, but he wasn’t going to grovel at the feet of the princess to get it.
Flatly, he said, “I don’t transport long-distance in that trailer.”
“You have your rig here?” George seemed to want to get the discussion back on track.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’d like to see it,” George said with a bit of resolve in his tone. “If that’s not too much trouble.”
“I’ve got a minute.”
Gabe loved his long-distance rig and loved to show it off. And his bruised ego made him want to prove to the princess that he wasn’t some ignorant yokel. It had taken him years to build his reputation; he didn’t need Bonita bad-mouthing him in the high-end horse community.
“Where’s the horse?”
“Northern Virginia,” George told him. “Every day we board him in Virginia is another dollar we burn.”
Bonita trailed behind them as they walked the short distance to an oversize garage.
“I hear that,” Gabe said with a nod. “Virginia’s pretty country.”
“Yes, it is,” George agreed. “But nothing like this land right here. This is God’s country.”
They reached the large garage Gabe had custom-built to house his trailer. “I can’t argue with you there.” He pushed the heavy door open and flipped on a light switch.
George whistled, long and appreciative. “Now, that’s a fine setup!”
“Thank you,” Gabe said. “She’s my pride and joy.”
It had taken him several years to save up enough money to put a down payment on this customized, midnight blue, luxury Equine Motorcoach. It had been his dream to own one, and it still felt a little surreal every time he took it out on the road.
George was sold—Gabe could see that. He’d earned the man’s business. But he couldn’t be sure of the daughter. While George set off toward the back of the long rig, Gabe was left with Bonita, who had been standing just inside of the garage in silence. He turned to face her, and that’s when he saw that the lovely woman had had a slight shift in opinion of him.
Bonita slipped her sunglasses to the top of her head. The expression on her face said it all: she was impressed. Their eyes met; Gabe was immediately drawn in to rich, mahogany brown.
“This is unexpected,” she told him in a blunt manner, her eyes back on the rig.
He decided not to be offended. After all, Little Sugar Creek was purposefully humble. The main house at Sugar Creek was a statement of the wealth his father had amassed, but Gabe didn’t need anything fancy. He just needed comfort, function and easy-to-care-for, because he spent a good deal of his time on the road.
“All right.” Bonita’s body language, her tone, as well as the expression on her face, had all softened, signaling to him that she had decided to give him a chance to earn her business. “I’d like a tour.”
* * *
“Hi, Mom.” Bonita smiled fondly at her mother on video chat. “How are you feeling today?”
“I miss you, mija,” her mother said, affectionately calling her “my daughter” in Spanish.
“I miss you, too, Mom. I’ll be home soon.”
Today was the day that Bonita had been waiting for—Vested Interest was going to begin the journey from Virginia to Montana. In advance of the trip, she had taken her father’s personal private jet to Washington, DC, her old stomping grounds, and had a chance to visit with friends and go out on the town. Oh, how she missed living close to the nation’s capital.
“I’ve got to go, Mom. Jill is driving me and we’re almost there.”
“Hi, Mom!” her friend Jill called out from the driver’s side.
One last “I love you” to her mom and Bonita ended the video chat. With a wistful sigh, she admired the Virginia landscape. “I miss it here so much,” she told her friend. Montana was picturesque, but as far as Bonita was concerned, that’s all that was in the plus column. Other than that, it was desolate, backward-thinking and boring.
“We miss you!” Jill exclaimed. “Last night was long overdue.”
“Agreed.”
Bonita had attended graduate school at George Washington University, located in the heart of Washington, DC, and had made so many good friends along the way. Many of her friends, like Jill, went on to take jobs in Congress or went on to attend law school.
Bonita’s plan had been to go to law school and then pursue a career in politics. But that was before her mother was diagnosed with an incurable, degenerative illness, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. That devastating diagnosis changed the trajectory of Bonita’s life.
Her mother, Evelyn, had dreamed of retiring to Montana. With time not on their side, her father retired early, putting the day-to-day operations of his lucrative consulting business in the hands of a chief operating officer, and bought his wife the ranch of her dreams just outside Bozeman, Montana.
Bonita, who had decided to change majors and prepared herself to attend medical school, decided to take an extended break after graduate school to help care for her mother. It hadn’t been a difficult decision to make, but living in Montana had been a hard change for Bonita. She missed her cosmopolitan life—she missed her friends.
“Darn it,” Jill complained. “It looks like we’re here already. This visit was too short!”
“I know,” Bonita agreed. She had thought she would get back to DC much more frequently than had actually happened in reality. It was difficult not to feel a pinch of envy for all of her friends who on social media seemed to be having the time of their lives. While her life seemed to have ground to a halt.
Jill pulled through the gates of Prestige Farm, a state-of-the-art equestrian facility that had been Bonita’s home away from home for much of her teens and twenties. She didn’t have any reason to feel nervous, and yet her stomach felt a bit unsettled. She had never had to have one of her horses transported on a trip that would take over thirty hours. Maybe that was it. Or maybe, it was the thought of encountering Gabe Brand again.
“Promise me.” Jill parked her Mercedes just outside the main office of Prestige Farm. “Promise me. You’ll come back for another, longer visit soon.”
Bonita got out, lifted her suitcase out of the trunk and shut it. “I promise.”
They hugged each other tightly, sad to be parting.
“Besides, don’t you want to see Mark sooner than later?”
Mark was a very handsome attorney who had been in their circle of friends for years; but this year, he was single. He had asked Bonita out for dinner her last night in DC and she had accepted, with the caveat that they were just two old friends sharing a meal. Mark had wanted to kiss her “good-night” and she had let him. It was the first kiss she had experienced since she broke things off with her college boyfriend; even a sweet kiss couldn’t change how she felt about starting a new relationship. For now, her focus needed to be her mother.
“He lives here. I live there.” Bonita shrugged. “I’ve never really liked long-distance relationships. Too much effort.”
“Your father owns a private jet,” Jill said, a conspiratorial gleam in her hazel eyes.
“Maybe if I met the right guy,” Bonita said with another noncommittal shrug.
“Mark could be the right guy.”
She didn’t want to kiss and tell, so she just kept her mouth shut. But the first kiss with Mark hadn’t set off any bells and whistles. Instead, she dropped the subject, gave her friend another hug and then waved as Jill drove away and headed back to her life in DC.
Luckily, Bonita didn’t have a moment to be melancholy. Her longtime dressage instructor, Candace, noticed her standing in the driveway with her suitcase, looking like a waif.
“Big day!” Candace was a tall, lanky woman with cropped blond hair framing a long, tanned, makeup-free face.
“A long time coming,” Bonita agreed.
They stowed her suitcase in a locker in the climate-controlled tack room and then headed toward a small turnout paddock to see her boy.
“He’s been doing great.” Candace leaned her arms over the fence.
Bonita felt happy, truly happy, when she was able to lay eyes on her horse again. His full name was Valdemar’s Vested Interest and he had been imported from Germany two years prior as an upper-level dressage prospect. Now that she was taking a break from school, her father wanted her to get back into showing. But in her heart, Bonita wasn’t sure that she wanted that for herself.
She clucked her tongue at Val to get his attention. The gelding, so regal with his long gray-and-white tail and his shiny dappled, blue-gray body, lifted his head for a brief moment before he went back to grazing. Was it right for her to take him out of the heart of dressage country and move him to cattle country?
“How have you been? How’s your mother?”
Bonita filled her trainer in on the last several months of her life, trying to sound more positive about the move than she actually felt.
“Here’s the million-dollar question. Have you been riding?”
They turned away from the paddock. “Honestly? Not much. I mean, I’ve been hopping on Mom’s old girl just to keep her moving, but other than that...” Bonita’s words trailed off. “I don’t know what to tell you. I feel stuck since I’ve moved out there. Frozen. I feel completely out of my element, disoriented. I just can’t seem to get myself motivated to do much of anything, other than making sure Mom’s okay. I’m hoping Val will give me the motivation I need to snap out of it.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Candace said, “Once you get Val settled, I’ll come out to Montana. He’s fit. He’s been on a strict training program. He’s not the kind of horse you can leave to his own devices. You’ve got to get him back into his workout routine immediately.”
“I will. I promise. And yes to you coming for a visit.”
Candace got a text on her phone. “Your transporter is being buzzed in at the gate right now.”
There it was—that flip-flop in her stomach at the thought of seeing Gabe again.
Even after Gabe showed her his rig, even after she had checked his credentials, followed up with references, checked prices to fly Val to Montana, interviewed other cross-country transport companies, Bonita kept coming back to Gabe Brand.
She had been impressed with his rig—it was top-notch, with all the safety features and comfort necessary for such an extensive trip. Gabe had contacts with quality stables along the route so they could stop and let Val rest overnight. The rig was also equipped with a box stall so that Val could move around and stretch his neck down, which would lessen the risk of respiratory problems from the trip.
Even though she had dismissed him in the beginning, after speaking with Gabe about his transport experience and probing his knowledge about horses, Bonita couldn’t dismiss him for long.
* * *
Gabe Brand pulled up to the secured gate of Prestige Farm after traveling for several days. He had been able to coordinate a delivery of a quarter horse to a facility in Maryland before heading down to Virginia to pick up the Oldenburg.
He loved being on the road, just him and his dog, Tater. The peace and quiet of the road was something he craved during the spells when he didn’t have any transport business on the books.
“Gabe Brand,” he spoke into the intercom. “I’m here to pick up Vested Interest.”
The ornate gate, decorated with intricate scrollwork and a large gold horseshoe in the center, slowly opened. Gabe had been to a lot of barns, big and small, but this was one of the swankier facilities he’d ever visited. The place just said “money.” The barn didn’t even resemble a barn—it looked more like a fancy stucco hotel with brick pavers leading up to a two-story clubhouse.
“Fancy.” Gabe found a place to park his rig near what appeared to be the main entrance of the barn.
The rancher grabbed his cowboy hat and gave Tater, who was curled up in the front seat, a quick pat on the head. “I’ll let you out on the grass before we take off,” he promised his tiny canine companion.
Gabe hopped out of the truck, shut the door and turned to head to the front office.
“Hi.”
“Holy Jesus, woman! You scared the living daylights out of me.”
Bonita, a person he didn’t expect to see, had sneaked up on him out of nowhere. She was just as pretty on second look as she had been on the first; her hair was braided into a thick, single plait and she was wearing slim-fit jeans that hugged her body in the right ways. Her face was made-up, just like the first day they had met, and it made him wonder what Bonita looked like without a full face of makeup.
“All I did was say hi,” she countered.
“I suppose I didn’t expect to see you here today.” Gabe tipped his hat to her. “How do?”
“I’m doing okay. A little anxious. Val’s paperwork is in order, he’s up-to-date on all of his shots and he’s been given a clean bill of health. One of the stablehands is putting on his shipping boots right now.”
Gabe nodded. She had just answered most of the questions he was going to ask any warm body he could find at the front office.
“Any loading issues with this horse?”
“No.” She gave a little shake of her head. “And my trainer said he’s always been a good traveler, so we shouldn’t have any problems along the way.”
Gabe stopped in his tracks. “Hold up. What do you mean by ‘we’ exactly?”
“Oh.” Bonita looked him straight in the eye, her jaw setting. “Didn’t I tell you? I’ve decided to tag along.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_cb46c172-4cf1-533c-a7ad-d2693f197aa9)
“Here’s the health certificate with a current Coggins test.” Candace handed Gabe the paperwork. “I think you’re all set. You’ve got enough of his food and hay to last you until you get him home, paperwork—”
“Horse,” Bonita filled in for her trainer with a smile.
“Most important.” The trainer opened her arms for a hug.
It had taken twenty minutes to get Val loaded into the rig. It was the first time Candace had ever had issues loading the show horse, and Bonita hoped it wasn’t an omen of things to come.
“We’re all going to miss you here.” Candace stepped back after they hugged tightly. “But as soon as you’re ready for me, I’ll come to you.”
“Ready?” Gabe had left them for a moment but returned much too quickly. Saying goodbye to Candace meant closing a chapter of a life she had loved dearly.
Bonita nodded, blinking hard several times to stop tears from welling in her eyes. She leaned down to pick up her small suitcase, but Gabe beat her to it. With her suitcase in one hand, the cowboy opened up the side door to his rig, a door that led into the living area, and nodded for her to go up the small flight of stairs.
“I’ll just put your bag right here for now.” Gabe tucked her suitcase into one of the cabinets that lined the wall.
Her arms crossed in front of her body, Bonita said, “That’s fine.”
Her plan was unfolding perfectly, and yet she hadn’t accurately imagined what it would feel like to be alone with Gabe, a virtual stranger. It felt, as it turned out, awkward and odd.
“You’re welcome to ride back here,” Gabe said, his body stiff. She guessed that he was feeling as uncomfortable as she was by her decision to hijack the trip. “Catch you a nap if you want.”
“I have to ride up front,” she explained. “Car sickness.”
She didn’t imagine it—he looked pretty disappointed by that bit of news.
“Well,” Gabe said slowly. “Tater usually rides up front with me.”
Tater, having heard her name, gave one, high-pitched bark.
So Bonita wasn’t the only passenger. A lover of all animals, her awkwardness temporarily forgotten, Bonita walked past the cowboy to the front of the rig. The moment she saw the little dog, she felt happy. She wasn’t alone with Gabe—they had Tater!
“You have a Chihuahua?”
“That’s Tater,” he said. “Be careful. She’s old and she can get snappy every now and again.”
Bonita ignored the warning and scooped up the little dog into her arms. “Please,” she said to him. “We are both Mexican Americans. We are destined to get on.” To Tater, she asked, “Tu hablas español, mi perrita?” Bonita smiled at Gabe. “I asked her if she speaks Spanish.”
He adjusted his cowboy hat to sit a bit farther back on his head. She could see his eyes better, and she was struck by how clear and bright those eyes really were.
“She knows uno, dos and tres. I didn’t teach her four, on account of the leg.”
For the first time that day, Bonita truly felt like laughing. So the cowboy had a sense of humor. That could make the trip a little more interesting. “That was probably the right thing to do,” Bonita agreed. “What happened to your leg, little one?”
“That’s just how God made her.”
“Well—she’s perfect.”
Tater had managed to break the ice between the cowboy and her. Bonita took her place in the passenger seat, buckled up and then put the dog in her lap.
Gabe got himself situated behind the wheel of the large rig and cranked the engine. On the dashboard, a screen turned on and a live video feed of her horse appeared.
“This way, we’ve got eyes on him the whole trip,” Gabe said. “We’ll be stopping in Columbus, Ohio, for the night...give his legs a rest.”
Bonita watched the horse on the screen, still in awe that he was actually hers, as they slowly made their way to the gate. As the gate swung open, she looked at the equestrian complex she had called home in the side view mirror, feeling nostalgic for another time, when her mom was healthy and she was under the illusion that nothing in her life could go wrong. That’s how it had been while she was riding here. It had been an idyllic life and it was over. Now she knew that plenty could go wrong. In fact, her whole world could shatter with one diagnosis.
“I hope you like music.” Gabe switched on the radio.
She did like music. All kinds. Reggae, classic rock, salsa, jazz—she liked virtually all genres of music. The one kind of music she couldn’t stand? Country. What did Gabe play for the entire seven hours it took to get to their first stop? Country.
Bonita tried several different strategies to cope with the onslaught of her most hated genre of music: listening to her own music with her earbuds, striking up a conversation with the cowboy, counting telephone poles, scrolling through her social media, texting friends and mindful meditation. She even contemplated braving a bout of motion sickness by escaping to the back, but the thought of losing her lunch in Gabe’s super expensive Equine Motorcoach made her think better of it. Instead, she sat in stoic silence, internally cursing all country singers and over-petting poor Tater’s head. The only reprieve she got was when they had to stop for fuel and a bathroom break for the Chihuahua.
“Do you need anything?” she asked before heading into the convenience store.
“No. I’m good. Once I’m done filling up, I’m gonna check on Val before we take off again.”
Bonita dawdled in the convenience store. She knew Gabe was probably ready to roll and she just couldn’t quite bring herself to hurry. She had physically shaken her head in the bathroom in an unsuccessful attempt to get Blake Shelton out of it. By the time she left the store with her soda, something she promised she wouldn’t drink on the trip, and a candy bar, something she promised herself she wouldn’t eat on the trip, Gabe had the rig parked near the exit. He was definitely waiting on her.
“How is he?” she asked as she climbed into the rig, juggling her drink and candy bar.
“Good.”
He was annoyed.
“Buckle up.” He already had the engine cranked. “We’re on a schedule.”
She took Tater from him, settled the dog on her lap and then she did buckle up, but she did it rather slowly. He might be annoyed with her, but she was the one who had to marinate in Johnny Cash for heaven only knew how much longer.
“How much longer do we have?” she asked over the music.
“Just shy of an hour.”
¡Ay Dios mio! ¡Por favor, no mas musica!
She prayed to God to make the music stop. Her prayers were not answered and ol’ Johnny kept on singin’. She had thought several times to ask him to turn the music off for a bit, yet she was acutely aware of the fact that she was the one crashing this party. She hadn’t trusted him with nearly a million dollars of her father’s money—that was the truth. But crashing the party and making demands was even a step too far for her.
“I’ve never been to Ohio,” she said, more to herself than to Gabe. For miles and miles, the terrain had been flat, and cows occupied the fields more often than not. Ohio seemed to be as rural and lonely in places as Montana, minus the mountains. Even though she didn’t like the fact that rush hour traffic was slowing them down in Columbus, she was glad to see civilization. She liked to see people—she liked the energy of a big city.
“What’s that?” Gabe switched off the radio.
Gracias a Dios. Bonita silently thanked God.
“I’ve never been here.” She gestured out the windshield. “Ohio.”
Gabe nodded wordlessly.
“Where are we stopping for the night?”
“My friend’s got a spread not too far from here. Plenty of room for Val to let loose some energy. Doc’s ready for him—got a stall set up for tonight.”
She assumed that Doc was the friend; she didn’t ask because she was tired and feeling irritable. She’d find out soon enough one way or the other.
“I don’t know how you do this all the time,” Bonita muttered and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The drive was tedious, just one endless mile after another. “Don’t you get tired of it?”
“Sometimes,” Gabe said. “But this is part of how I make a living, so I get over it quick enough.”
He thankfully took the next exit and then they went deep into the back roads on the far outskirts of Columbus. There were more miles with more cows and more dilapidated barns in more flat fields, and then Bonita spotted the sign announcing that they had finally arrived at their destination: Hobby Horse Farm.
It was a lovely farm. The crown jewel was a whitewashed Victorian farmhouse with a wraparound porch, carved gables and two stately brick chimneys. There were miles of green pastureland, white fences and grazing horses dotting the landscape. She hugged Tater to her body a little too hard in her excitement, and the dog gave a grunt of discomfort.
“Oh! I’m sorry, little one.” She kissed the dog on the head. “I’m just so happy that we’re finally here!”
* * *
“Gabe Brand, as I live and breathe!”
Doc turned out to be a wiry woman, possibly in her late forties. She had a wild mass of copper curls and deep smile lines around her eyes and mouth. She was dressed in riding boots and breeches and she was waving her arms in the air in enthusiastic greeting. A small pack of dogs—old, young, small and large—surrounded Gabe’s friend, barking and tails wagging. Not to be outdone, Tater began to alternate between growls and woofs.
Gabe stuck his hand out the window and waved. “Where do you want her?”
“Pull straight on in.” The woman pointed to the large gravel area ahead. “It’ll hold you.”
He parked and hopped out of the rig. Bonita was glad to follow. Carrying Tater, she rounded the front of the rig and caught the greeting between friends. The woman, who seemed to jerk from one position to the next in big leaps and movements, tossed her arms over Gabe’s shoulders and kissed him right on the lips. It wasn’t a lingering kiss, but Bonita sure didn’t recall greeting any of her friends—male or female—with a kiss on the lips.
“Goodness gracious, I’m glad to see you.” Doc exclaimed, her hands now on her boyish hips. “It’s been too long.”
Like a bee in search of nectar, their hostess flitted toward her, a wide, welcoming smile on her face. The woman invaded her personal space and stuck out her hand. “Janice Joplin. Same sound, different spelling. I know, can you believe it? I married into the name. I thought about changing it after the divorce, but by then I’d been Doc Joplin for years, so why bother. I can’t sing, I’ve never had a drug problem, I’m not kin. So there you go.”
It took Bonita a split second to realize that Janice had finished, come up for air and was waiting on her now.
“Bonny.” She told Janice her nickname, sometimes a little shy about her own given name, while Janice’s pack of dogs wove around her legs, smacking her legs with their wagging tails. Tater was snarling at the circling, friendly pack of canines, showing her teeth and growling low in her throat.
“She’s the owner,” Gabe told Janice, and Bonita got the impression that he wanted to quickly clear up any confusion regarding her status.
“Perfect. Nice to meet you,” Janice said before she lurched away, her attention now on the horse in the rig. “Let’s see what you’ve brought me!”
Gabe grabbed the health certificate that had allowed them to travel across state lines with Val and handed it to Janice. Their hostess scanned the document, nodded quickly and handed it back.
“Doc is one of the few large animal veterinarians who specialize in acupuncture,” Gabe told Bonita as they walked to the back of the rig. “My brother Liam worked with her right out of vet school.”
Hands on her hips, Janice had moved on from small talk and her focus was on Val. “Let’s get him out of there and into the pasture.”
Gabe lowered the hydraulic ramp and hooked a lead rope to Val’s halter. Wide-eyed, ears forward, head bobbing up and down, Val was anxiously pawing at the ground, wanting to be free from his mobile stall.
Janice whistled her appreciation. “I do love an Oldenburg. You’ve got a nice horse here.”
Val came down the ramp, his nostrils flared, snorting loudly at the nearby horses. It was strange—Val was Bonita’s dream horse, and yet there was something that made her feel cautious around him. The horse was giant, muscular and in peak fitness. When his head was raised and he was wild-eyed and anxious, he was a handful.
Gabe, calm in the face of the horse’s natural fear and anxiety, handed the lead rope to Janice. He bent down and started to remove Val’s padded shipping boots from each leg, staying with the horse no matter how rambunctious he got.
“I know,” Janice said in a soothing voice to the nervous horse, rubbing his neck. “It’s all so strange.”
Glad to have the excuse of holding Tater, Bonita stood back, letting the other two handle Val. She had always felt a connection to every horse she had ever owned. But this time, she only felt nervous around Val. No connection. And it worried her. Her father and mother, who wanted her to continue showing, had picked out Val for her, and who would say no to a dream horse as a graduation present? It was the first time she hadn’t picked out her own show horse. Standing in Ohio, not wanting to engage with her new horse, made Bonita think that she should have said no.
“Where do you want him?” Gabe asked, taking the lead rope again.
“Take him to this pasture right here.” Janice pointed to an unoccupied pasture to her left. To Bonita, she added, “He’ll have the whole place to himself, so you won’t have to worry about him getting injured.”
Horses were herd animals, and as prey animals, they were highly alert to any possible danger. They were always curious about any new horse that appeared on the scene and the Oldenburg’s arrival was no exception. As Val pranced alongside Gabe, tossing his head and letting his tail fly like an unfurled flag behind him, all of the horses on the property had come to the edge of their fences and were watching attentively. Some of them started to run in their pastures, snorting and bucking and kicking at their pasture-mates. Others followed Val on their side of the fence, trying to catch his scent.
The moment Val was let off his lead, the Oldenburg exploded, bucking several times, farting and kicking out his hind legs, before he galloped to the far end of the pasture.
“He’s got a run-in shed, water, plenty of grass to eat. We can feed him with the others in about an hour or so, but that’s up to you,” Janice said.
“That’s fine.” Bonita gave a little shrug.
Val was touching noses across the fence with one of Janice’s horses. After a moment, both horses squealed and kicked at each other. Janice’s horse moved, which meant that Val won the higher spot in the hierarchy.
“He’s fine,” their hostess announced. “Let me show you the barn.”
“I’m going to clean out the rig real quick.” Gabe split off and walked away.
“You can dump your manure on the compost pile out back.”
“I think I’d better let Tater down for a moment,” Bonita said. “Do you think she’ll be okay with all of your four-legged friends?”
“Tater can handle her own.” Janice laughed. “She’ll be running this pack in five seconds flat, just you watch. Besides—they know each other. A couple of sniffs here, a couple of sniffs there, and they’ll be all reacquainted.”
Bonita was still reticent about putting Tater down but just as Janice had predicted, the three-legged Chihuahua wasn’t a pushover. Even so, after Tater finished her business, Bonita scooped her back up and tucked the dog into the crook of her arm.
“I appreciate you letting us rest here for the night.” Bonita had to work to keep stride with Janice, who walked as fast as she talked.
“Oh. No problem,” her hostess said in a breezy manner. “Gabe’s been stopping here for years. We’re always tickled to see him.”
Bonita followed Janice to the backside of the two-story Victorian, only to realize that the barn was actually attached to the house.
“This is amazing!” Bonita exclaimed, her eyes wide. “I have always wanted to have my house attached to my barn.”
Janice opened a small white picket gate that led into the stable. “I love it. But it’s an albatross. I’ll be hard-pressed to ever sell it, that’s a fact. Not many people want to live with their horses.”
“I would.”
“I like you already,” Janice said before she stopped in front of an empty stall. “Val will bed down in here tonight.”
“Okay.” Bonita was looking everywhere, trying to take it all in at once. “This place is too cool.”
“It was built back in the days when people wanted the heat from the animals to help heat the house,” Janice said. “It burned down once and got rebuilt sometime in the early 1900s. I can’t tell you how convenient it is during the winter or if one of mine is sick. I just come out here in my slippers and my nightgown. Done and done.”
Bonita thought they were still walking forward when Janice circled back, into her personal space again, and stopped. “So you and Gabe aren’t together?”
“No.” It struck Bonita as strange that anyone would put Gabe and her together as a couple; they were so different. “I kind of crashed the trip.”
“I knew it had to be something. Gabe doesn’t let clients travel with him. Some have followed behind him but never with him. Well.” Janice gave a disappointed cluck of her tongue. “That’s too bad. It’d be nice to see him settled down after all this time. I’m afraid he’s getting cemented in his ways and becoming an incorrigible bachelor. Not that I have room to talk, mind you. I’m divorced, my kids are grown, and other than fixing the fences, what do I need a man for?”
Janice opened a door that led into the farmhouse. “I just opened a bottle of red.”
A glass of wine, or two, was exactly what Bonita needed after seven straight hours of country music. She followed Janice from one part of her world, the barn, into the other part of her world, the farmhouse, which was infused with the scent of beef stew and greens simmering on the stove. The decor was eclectic and a bit eccentric and it was a total reflection of Janice’s free-spirited personality. Everything in the house seemed to be collected from various yard sales, thrift stores and side-of-the-road antique marts. Nothing matched—the chairs around the kitchen table were mismatched, the fabrics on the couch and chairs in the living room where mismatched, and the dishes were all mismatched. And yet everything blended together, much like a tapestry, into one wonderfully homey picture.
“I didn’t know to expect you.” Janice handed her a glass of wine.
“I’m so sorry,” Bonita apologized. “I just assumed Gabe let you know.”
“He might’ve thought he did and then it slipped his mind. He’s like that. Don’t worry. I’m just thinking out loud... I have a spare room. You’d be more comfortable in here than out there in the rig, don’t you think?”
Actually...
“You wouldn’t mind?”
Janice waved her hand and frowned at her as if she thought the question was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. She went to the front door, pulled it open, stood on the front porch and hollered to Gabe.
“Gabe! Bring Bonny’s suitcase in here when you’re done! She’s bunking with me tonight!”
“I can go get it.” Bonita put her glass down on the butcher-block island in the kitchen. Asking Gabe to wait on her like a bellboy was only adding insult to his injury. He hadn’t wanted her on the trip in the first place.
“He can get it.” Janice shooed her back into the kitchen. “You hang out here with me and keep me company. I’m surrounded by horses, cows, manure and men. I don’t get nearly enough estrogen in my life, that I can tell you!”
Chapter Three (#ulink_9af4902e-ae2b-5aa1-9abf-ce03960966e5)
After dinner, Gabe found Bonita in the barn, sitting on a tack box across from Val’s stall, holding another glass of wine in her hand. When she saw him, she scooted over and made room for him to sit down beside her.
“They’re a loud bunch,” Gabe said as he sat down next to his client, careful to make sure that there was plenty of space between Bonita’s body and his.
She had been staring at her horse, swirling her wine around and around in the glass. She seemed lost in her own thoughts and from the look on her face—a sincerely pretty and compelling face—they weren’t the happiest thoughts in the world.
“They are wonderful.” Bonita’s full mouth turned up in a slight smile. “Truly. Stopping here was a real blessing.”
“Good.” Gabe was glad to hear it. Even though he hadn’t wanted her along for the trip, he had an instinct to make sure she was safe and cared for while she was with him. Not that he had anything in particular against Bonita—he just preferred to travel alone. It was his policy and that way he could say no to anyone and everyone who asked. And clients did ask. Bonita was the only client who wouldn’t take no for an answer. And he’d adapted. That was his way. He hadn’t liked it, but he dealt with it.
His mother died when he was just a kid and his father, Jock, told him straight up that he’d better learn to deal with life’s curveballs quick, because they came fast and furious sometimes. It was one of his father’s better pieces of advice and Gabe had been adapting to change quickly ever since.
Bonita took a small sip of her wine. She seemed a little more relaxed and if he had counted correctly, she was on her third glass. She said, “Janice is crazy. I love that about her.”
Looking straight ahead, Gabe nodded with a little smile. “She’s a nut, that’s the truth.”
“You’ve known her a long time.”
It was more of a statement than a question.
“A long time.”
His companion took another sip of the wine before she said, “The way she is with her ex, you’d think they were still a couple.”
Janice had invited her ex-husband, Gary, for dinner, along with a group of friends, all from the same horse community that Gabe hadn’t seen in a long time. Gary was a solid horse trainer in his own right and Janice still regularly referred her clients to him if they had a horse with training concerns.
“They’re much better friends than spouses.”
“That’s rare.”
He nodded. He’d never managed to stay friends with his exes. For him, once it was over, it was time to move on. It had been quite a while since he’d had to move on from a woman, though. He’d managed to fill his life with his horses. The last time he had to move on had broken his heart good and proper.
“I love the barn at night,” Bonita mused quietly. “Don’t you?”
He glanced at Bonita’s profile. It was his favorite time in the barn. In that moment, Gabe realized that he was enjoying sitting in the barn with Bonita a little too much. Instead of answering, he stood up.
“I’m going to turn in. We’ve got a long stretch tomorrow. I want to leave by four.”
His client’s sleepy eyes opened wide as she looked up at him. “In the morning?”
He nodded.
“That means I have to get up at three?”
“If it takes you an hour to get ready, then I suppose so.”
Bonita frowned.
“I want to get to our next stop by late afternoon. That’ll give Val plenty of time to stretch out his legs.”
Still frowning, Bonita asked, “Where’s our next destination?”
“I have Val booked for a stall in a facility in Grimes, Iowa.”
“Iowa,” she repeated so morosely that it made him smile. “How many hours to Grimes?”
“Ten,” he told her. “Today was a short day.”
“It didn’t feel short.”
“It was.”
They stared at each other for a second or two before Gabe broke the eye contact and waved his hand. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Hey...”
He turned back to her.
“Do you mind if I keep Tater with me tonight?”
He couldn’t believe how long it took him to process that question. He was just used to having Tater with him.
“Sure,” he finally said. “If it’ll make the night better for you.”
“Gracias.” Bonita said, the word of thanks rolling off her tongue in a way that sounded mighty pleasant to his ears.
“De nada.” His you’re welcome came out stilted and heavily accented, but it made her smile, and he liked to see that smile.
With one final nod to his client, he left the barn and headed out to the rig. He planned on taking a quick shower, climbing into the sleeping bunk above the front cab and getting at least eight hours of shut-eye. He was lucky that he could fall asleep on a dime, and now that he didn’t have to worry about walking around the rig in his boxers, he could get comfortable and get down to the business of sleeping.
* * *
Morning came too early for Bonita. Soon after Gabe gave her the bad news about her three o’clock wake-up time, she finished her wine, made sure Tater had one last visit to a grassy spot on the lawn, said good-night to her new friends and then retreated to the guest room. After a long, hot shower and going through her nightly routine of brushing her teeth and putting on her face creams and brushing all the tangles out of her waist-length hair, as she always did, she called her parents to say good-night.
“I have to get up at three o’clock in the morning,” Bonita complained to her father. No matter how far into adulthood she got, she still went to her dad for comfort when life seemed unfair.
“And I’ll be subjected to another ten hours of country music, which feels like a form of torture.”
“I don’t even know why you insisted on going,” her father said. “I told you I trusted the man.”
“I know,” she acknowledged. “I didn’t.”
“How about now? You’ve spent the day with him. What’s the verdict?”
Bonita knew exactly what her father was driving at. He wanted her to admit that she was wrong.
“He seems competent,” she admitted, not saying the words you were right, I was wrong.
“Then come home now,” George suggested. “You’re right there near Columbus. I’ll send my pilot to come pick you up. There’s an executive airport there—I’ve used it before. If you’re not happy, come home.”
Yes, she didn’t want to get up at three o’clock in the morning. Who did? And, yes, she dreaded the hours of monotonous highway and basting in the music of every country artist known to mankind, but it hadn’t occurred to her—not once—to throw in the towel.
“I’m not unhappy.”
“You could have fooled me, mi corazón.”
Did she want to take her father’s offer and bail on the trip? Gabe was more than competent. He knew how to handle horses, that was easy to assess after a day. The way he handled a flighty, excitable horse like Val had been impressive.
“I’m just talking.” She backpedaled a bit. “Val is my horse. I’m responsible for him now. I’m going to stick it out. This is far from the worst experience I’ve ever had to go through.”
After those words, they both were silent and Bonita knew exactly what her father was thinking: her mother’s illness was the worst thing either one of them had ever gone through and the worst was yet to come.
“Is Mom awake?” Bonita was the first to break the silence. “I’d like to say good-night.”
“She asked the nurse to put her to bed early tonight.”
Bonita had been lying back on a stack of pillows, but she sat up instinctively. “Is she okay? Do I need to come home now for her?”
“She’s fine,” George said and for the first time Bonita heard weariness in her father’s voice. “It’s been a bad day... She has those. Tomorrow will be better. If you want to stay with Val, your mom will be fine until you return.”
After she hung up the phone with her dad, Bonita spent some time catching up with friends on social media. She sent a friend request to Janice—they had struck up a friendship in a short time and they both wanted to keep in touch—and then she shut off the light.
Bonita had been an insomniac for years. Even with the three glasses of wine, she was wide-awake listening to the sounds drifting up the hallway from the kitchen, staring at the ceiling.
It felt as if her life had taken some odd turns of late. She was in a farmhouse in Ohio, getting ready to head off to Iowa with a cowboy she didn’t know all that well, instead of starting her first year of medical school. Her mother’s illness was a major driving force for her eventual return to the pursuit of a medical degree. She wanted to be able to help other families whose lives had been turned upside down, much as hers had, by a single diagnosis. Bonita didn’t regret putting her dream on hold to spend time with her mother in her final years. Her only regret was that she hadn’t come home sooner.
* * *
Gabe was already in the barn with Val when Bonita shuffled into the barn, blurry-eyed and running on only two hours of restless sleep, carrying Tater in one hand and rolling her suitcase behind her with the other.
“He’s been fed.” The cowboy seemed to forget to engage in the social routine of greeting each other before getting down to business.
“Good morning to you, too,” she said grumpily.
Gabe glanced at her before he kept on shoveling the manure out of Val’s stall. “If you want to grab his shipping boots, I’ll get him ready to load.”
Bonita checked to make sure the gates between the barn and the outside were closed before she put Tater down. She gathered up the tall, padded shipping boots and carried them over to Gabe.
“Hi there, Val.” She reached out and let the horse smell her hand. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s being a horse.” Gabe knelt down by Val’s hind leg and secured the shipping boot.
Val was throwing his head, backing up to avoid Gabe and acting like he was going to bite her.
“Hey.” Bonita pushed the horse’s mouth away with her hand. “He’s a lot more mouthy than I remember.”
Gabe finished his job and stood up. “He’s got a few bad habits.”
He looked fresh and crisp. He was wearing his usual button-down shirt, tucked in tightly, straight-leg denim jeans, cowboy boots, a cowboy hat and a leather belt with an oval silver buckle. It was indecent to look that put-together and awake in the middle of the night. In contrast, she had barely managed to get her hair into a ponytail, and she was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and jeans with no makeup. Her eyes were puffy, her face felt puffy—she needed coffee and some sort of food to help settle it.
“I don’t suppose breakfast is in our future?”
“I doubt we’re going to find anything open for a while. I’ve got some rations in the kitchen. You can help yourself.”
Gabe was ready to go. She stepped out of the way so he could lead Val out of the stall. She quickly scooped up Tater and followed behind with her suitcase. Again, it took Gabe several tries to get him in the trailer.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him. Candace swears he’s never had any loading issues.”
Gabe shut the back of the rig and secured it. “He’s got them now.”
There it was again, that little gnawing sensation in her stomach about her new horse. He was such a beautiful creature; maybe it was just going to take some time for them to bond.
“Goodbye, Hobby Horse Farm,” Bonita said as they slowly pulled out onto the desolate road. It was so dark that it didn’t feel like morning to her at all. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to say one more goodbye to Janice.”
“She’s not a morning person.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I love this time of day. No people. No traffic. It’s the best time to travel.”
Deciding not to argue with an obvious morning person, Bonita took Gabe up on his offer and found some breakfast bars in the kitchen. She also discovered that Gabe had made a pot of coffee and it was still warm enough to tolerate.
Tater found her bowls of food and water while Bonita searched for some creamer for her coffee.
“Do you have any creamer?”
“I drink it black.”
“Shoot.” So much for coffee.
With a bottle of water and a breakfast bar in hand, Bonita slumped into the passenger seat.
“You know, my father wanted me to fly home from Columbus. There’s creamer on the jet.”
“Hard to keep an eye on me from the sky.” Gabe didn’t crack a smile, but she believed that he meant for there to be humor laced with truth in that statement.
“I’m not keeping an eye on you,” Bonita retorted quickly. Then, she revised her answer a bit a second later. “I was keeping an eye on you.”
“That seat leans back,” Gabe told her. “Why don’t you shut your eyes and try to get some more sleep? I promise I won’t screw anything up until after you wake up.”
She didn’t know if he was trying to avoid her grumpiness or was sincerely concerned for her well-being, but it didn’t matter. It was a good idea and she took him up on it. She finished her breakfast bar and water, then leaned back and closed her eyes. It seemed that Gabe didn’t listen to music early in the morning, and that suited her just fine. She felt herself drifting to sleep but was awakened by Tater yipping next to her. Not opening her eyes, she reached down, felt for the little dog and lifted her onto her lap.
“Go to sleep,” she mumbled. Those were the last words she wanted to utter until the sun rose and it was officially morning.
* * *
Gabe drove for hours without his usual music in the background. Bonita had fallen asleep quickly and he didn’t want to disturb her.
It wasn’t ideal that he had someone else to consider on this trip. He had his routine, his way of doing things to make the trips easier, but he also found some upsides to having a passenger. Even though they hadn’t passed the time talking, just having Bonita’s presence had made the trip go a bit faster for him. And she smelled nice—like lavender. In fact, the last thought he had before he fell asleep was how sweet Bonita smelled when he was sitting so close to her on that tack box.
She didn’t snore, but she mumbled several times in her sleep. He couldn’t make out the words, but he found himself wondering about Bonita Delafuente.
She wasn’t quite as one-dimensional as he had judged after their first meeting. Yes, she was entitled, as most people from wealthy families were, but she wasn’t a snob. The way she took to Janice and Hobby Horse Farm, the kindness she had shown to all of his friends, made him realize that he had labeled her too harshly. Bonita held herself a bit stiff, and her appearance was polished—her nails perfectly done and her expensive jewelry was part of the uniform—but she had a million-dollar smile and a laugh that made a man want to listen for a long time. And she was smart. That he especially liked. It wasn’t too often that he saw a woman go toe-to-toe intellectually with Janice, but Bonita did. Easily.
His client stirred in the passenger seat, making sounds that let him know she was waking up from her nap. Yawning long and loud, Bonita opened her eyes.
“What time is it?”
“Just after nine.”
Tater, who had jumped down from Bonita’s lap some time ago, heard her voice and raced up to the front from the back of the rig.
Sitting up, Bonita reached down to pet Tater. “I’ve been asleep for five hours?”
“Just about.”
She stretched her arms, groaned and then yawned again. “Coffee.”
That one word made Gabe smile. He didn’t know why he found Bonita’s grouchiness adorable instead of annoying.
“I’ll pull off at the next exit. Tater needs a break and we could use some gas.”
“How’s Val?”
“Eating hay.”
Out of habit, Gabe glanced at the screen to his right showing a live video stream of Val. If he was eating hay and making manure, most likely all was well with the Oldenburg.
Gabe had a feeling from his first meeting with Bonita that she had him written off as a dumb cowboy. It wouldn’t be the first time in his life that high-end horse owners had prejudged him. But his ability with horses spoke for itself and people who wrongly judged him usually paid a premium to hire him again. He’d seen a small shift in Bonita; yes, she was a skeptic or she wouldn’t have insisted on babysitting him on a road trip, but he felt her trust in him growing. And for whatever reason, in particular, he wanted Bonita to trust in him.
“Can I get anything for you?” Bonita asked after another yawn and stretch.
“No. I’m good.”
He had stopped to fill up the tank with fuel and give his passenger and Tater a break from the road. Bonita wasn’t used to road trips; she was used to taking a quick flight to her destinations on her father’s private jet. Traveling on the road could be tedious, he more than anyone knew that, and they would just be reaching the halfway mark when they would pull in to Grimes later on today.
As he watched Bonita walk toward the convenience store, her oversize sweatshirt swallowing the top half of her body and her long, ponytail swinging behind her, he was actually shocked that she hadn’t jumped at the chance to fly back to Bozeman. His first thought was that she didn’t trust him to get Val home safely, but then he reconsidered. Bonita appeared to be the type of woman who didn’t like to fail at anything. Perhaps leaving a challenging trip early would have been a sign of defeat to her. If he was right, he could respect that about her.
He was just wrapping up his business at the pump when Bonita rejoined him, carrying two fountain drinks and a bag full of donuts.
“I got some for you, too,” she said, unhappily.
“Thank you.” He didn’t indulge in sugar too much with the hours of sitting he had to do when he was transporting. But he wasn’t going to turn down a nice gesture on her part.
Still frowning, Bonita looked at her purchases. “Just look what this trip has done to me already. I’m in sweats, I haven’t brushed my hair, no makeup, and I’ve completely abandoned any semblance of a healthy diet.”
He was about to banter back, when Bonita suddenly started to run in a circle, screaming about a bee.
“Is it on me?” She was swiveling her head around from one direction to the other, trying to look behind her.
Gabe walked over to her to inspect the parts of her back that she couldn’t see. “It was just a little ol’ honeybee.”
“You don’t understand! Those little suckers hunt me down and sting me wherever I am! I’m not paranoid. They come after me in particular. I was stung three times last summer! You laugh, but it’s true.”
“Well, he’s gone now,” Gabe reassured her. “They weren’t bothering me.”
“Well...maybe you just aren’t as sweet as I am.”
Gabe opened the passenger door for her and gave a little tip of his cowboy hat. “There’s no denying that.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_927f3c8b-c620-53f0-b857-e6a7292d4574)
“Okay,” Bonita announced after taking a shower, changing her clothing and putting on some makeup. “Now I actually feel like a normal human again.”
After five more hours of travel, during which she was subjected to the full Willy Nelson catalog, they arrived at an equestrian facility in Grimes, Iowa. Considering the name of the town, Bonita was pleasantly surprised by the accommodations for Val. The stalls were a generous size and well maintained. There was a separate turnout paddock for Val, so she could be assured that he wouldn’t get injured trying to figure out his position in the herd hierarchy.
Once they got Val unloaded and settled and after they cleaned the mobile stall, which gave Bonita a chance to work off some of her junk food calories, Gabe found an overnight spot to park the rig. Part of the living area expanded outward with a simple push of a button, adding additional square footage to the kitchen and sitting area. The rig had solar panels on the roof, so Gabe could park the rig away from electrical hookups. He had found a spot to park the rig that would allow them to see Val in his paddock.
Gabe was sitting at the dining table, a table that resembled a booth in a diner with bench seats on either side. Bonita slid into the bench opposite Gabe, feeling refreshed and awake for the first time that day.
“What’s the plan for dinner?” she asked. In her family, food was important and meals were meant to be an event.
Gabe put down his phone and looked at her. Every time their eyes met and held, she was struck by how clear and blue the cowboy’s eyes were. She couldn’t always see them, for the brim of his hat, but when she did, it was a moment that lingered in her mind. There was a raw honesty there. And a kindness that always surprised her. She supposed she had a set opinion of men who wore cowboy boots and hats, and it wasn’t, upon reflection, a positive one. Gabe was, little by little, changing that opinion.
“I usually stock what I need.” He paused a second and then added, “I wasn’t expecting company.”
Bonita felt an immediate pang of guilt. She should apologize for barging in on the trip. She’d always had a difficult time apologizing—even when she knew she was squarely in the wrong, like now. The words I’m sorry just couldn’t find their way to her lips. Instead, she stood up, went over to the kitchen cabinets and started to assess the situation. After scouting the refrigerator and the cabinets, Bonita, who had been cooking since she was young, already had several dishes in mind that she could make for dinner.
“You have ingredients for fajitas, a breakfast burrito or steak and eggs,” she said as she wound her long, damp hair into a knot on the top of her head and secured it with a ponytail holder from the front pocket of her jeans. “What’s your pleasure?”
Gabe looked at her like he was caught off guard by her offer. “I have all that in there?”
“Yes. You actually do.” She laughed, feeling happy for some unfathomable reason. “You don’t cook?”
“I grill.”
“Of course. Well, I cook. Love to, actually. So let me make you dinner. It would feel like I’m being useful. What’s your pleasure?”
“Steak and eggs sounds good.”
“Coming right up,” she said with a smile. “How do you like your steak cooked?”
“Just barely dead, I suppose.”
“Rare it is.”
Gabe went out for a bit to speak with the manager of the facility. While he was gone, Bonita hummed while she located all of the cooking essentials she would need to deliver on the promised meal. While the steak was broiling in the oven, she found plates and silverware and set the table.
It made her feel content to be cooking, even in such a tiny kitchen. Cooking had been her connection to her family in Mexico—all of her aunts and uncles and grandparents and cousins on her father’s side, most of whom still lived in Mexico, had taught her how to cook authentic Mexican food. Her mother, whose family was of European descent, hadn’t even known how to cook when she met Bonita’s father. But before Evelyn became ill, she could cook a wide variety of traditional Mexican dishes, the kind that always brought a smile to George’s face.
Bonita was just finishing the eggs when Gabe returned.
“Sorry about that.” He took his hat off and hung it on a hook just inside the door. “They’ve got a horse they wanted me to look at.”
“I’ve been having a good time.” She turned the burner off and took the pan with the scrambled eggs off the stove. “I hope you like scrambled. I forgot to ask.”
“I’m not too picky.” Gabe sat down at the table. “That smells good enough to eat.”
“Well. I hope you like it.”
She made them both a plate and then joined him at the table. She knew from traveling with him that he was going to want water with no ice in his glass, so she had already taken care of that. Bonita already regretted the soda she had consumed, so she switched to water as well.
“This is the first real meal that’s been cooked in that kitchen,” Gabe told her.
She waited for him to take the first bite of steak, to give her a stamp of approval for the dinner, before she began to eat her portion of the scrambled eggs.
“Now, that’s good,” he said with a satisfied little smile. Her mother always said that a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. So far, Bonita believed her mother was right about that. “Where’s your steak?”
“I don’t eat meat.”
“You don’t meet very many vegetarians in Montana.”
“You don’t meet very many vegetarians in my family!” Bonita countered. “My father thinks it’s sacrilegious to not eat meat, and trust me, none of my relatives in Mexico get it.”
Gabe cut a tiny piece of steak for Tater, who had been waiting, ears perked forward, at the cowboy’s feet.
“Is that who taught you to cook like this?”
Bonita nodded while she washed some eggs down with water. She wiped her mouth off with a napkin and then said, “Cooking and food is a big part of our culture. My mom didn’t know how to boil water when she met my dad, but she learned quickly. I’ve been cooking since I was a kid.”
“Well, you’re dang good at it. It’s rare for me to have a home-cooked meal on the road and it’s been two nights in a row for me this time around. So I thank you.”
“It was my pleasure. It’s the least that I could do seeing as I’m technically a stowaway.”
She meant those last words to be a roundabout way of apologizing. Gabe met her eyes, but he didn’t pick up on the cue and run with it. He just gave her a simple nod, as was his way she was discovering, and let the matter drop.
“I’d like to go check on Val after we’ve cleaned up,” she said. “I saw one of the hands take him to the stable and I’d like to see how he’s settling in to his stall.”
Gabe dropped his crumpled-up napkin on his plate. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”
“Are you sure?”
“I got the better end of that deal. Go on and visit with Val.”
Bonita took Gabe up on his offer and headed to the barn. She found Val in his designated stall at the end of the long aisle, eating hay.
“Hi, handsome boy.” She opened his stall gate and held out her hand to him so he could begin to learn her scent.
“There’s some grooming tools hanging on that hook if you want to use them,” suggested one of the stablehands mucking out a stall across the aisle.
“Thank you. I think I will.”
Bonita grabbed a body brush; she was glad to finally have some time to bond with Val. But when she started to brush his neck, Val nipped at her, backed up into the corner of the stall to avoid her and swished his tail, a sign that he was resisting her.
“I know you don’t think so now, Val.” She fought through the nerves she always seemed to feel around her new horse and kept on brushing him, not letting him rule the moment. “But you are going to learn to love me.”
She brushed his body, ignoring his grouchy attitude when she switched sides and asked him to move his feet. Then she combed his mane and his tail and finished by cleaning out each of his hooves. The entire time she worked on him, he tried to bite her, and his body language, from the tail swishing to stomping his hind hooves, was a sign that he had some behavior issues that they were going to have to work on.
“You look super handsome now, Val.” Bonita wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck and gave him a quick hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow. At a ridiculously early hour.”
While she was putting the grooming tools back in the bucket hanging outside the stall, Bonita heard Gabe’s voice nearby. She walked toward the sound of his voice.
He was standing next to what looked to be a full-blooded Thoroughbred in the large, indoor riding arena. He was talking to a couple of people who Bonita assumed to be the owners. She looked around and found that there were empty bleachers nearby. She climbed up to the midpoint in the bleachers and sat down.
“Everything we do with horses is pressure,” Gabe was saying. “We put a halter on them, it’s pressure. We ride them, it’s pressure. What they want is to be left alone and eat. That’s not how it’s going to be for them, but we have to understand what they want if we’re going to change their behavior. What is that you want this horse to be able to do?”
The younger of the two women, the one wearing a pair of riding breeches, said, “I want him to not freak out every time he sees a flag. When I take him to a show, he’s fine, unless there’s a flag. Then all bets are off. He bolts, he tries to buck me off...”
“Well, he might have had someone train him wrong with a flag. We don’t know his history. So his reaction, at least to him, could make perfect sense, even if it’s doesn’t make perfect sense to you. But don’t worry, we can work on it. We need to operate on the principle of pressure. Operating on the principle that horses respond to the application or the release of pressure, we can desensitize this horse to stimuli. In this case, a flag.” Gabe nodded his head toward the other side of the arena. “Why don’t the two of you stand over there so when he reacts, you won’t be in the way, and I’ll show you what you can do with him.”
In Gabe’s free hand, he was holding a training device that looked like a long crop with a flag on the end. He had the flag grasped in his hand, so the Thoroughbred didn’t see it. Calmly, as was the way Gabe seemed to operate in the world, he stepped away from the horse, gave him some length of the lead rope and then showed the horse the flag.
The moment the horse spotted the flag, it started to rear and then buck and tried to run away. Gabe held on to the horse, and instead of taking the flag away, he waved the flag to keep the horse moving.
“If he’s not doing what I want him to do, which is stand still, I keep him moving,” Gabe explained while he worked. “In the horse world, whoever moves the feet is the boss. That’s the way it goes. All this horse is looking for is a leader. That’s what a horse is looking for in all of us.”
When the horse finally stopped moving and stood still, Gabe dropped the flag to the ground. For the next thirty minutes, Gabe worked with the Thoroughbred, repeating the steps over and over again, until the horse let him rub the flag over his body.
“We don’t want to teach him that this tool is another thing to fear, so we want to rub him all over his body with it to let him know that it’s not.”
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