his rodeo years he’d helped other cowboys with rank mounts, but he’d had no real chance to prove himself in a larger capacity. That was all about to change.
From the moment he’d discovered Aunt Bonnie’s financial troubles, he’d made up his mind to come back to Rattlesnake and help out. After all, she’d been there for him when he was four years old and his mother had jumped ship, leaving his bewildered father to raise a child alone. The kicker was Bonnie was his dad’s aunt, not his, but she’d rearranged her entire life to raise him. She’d tossed over her job and had even waited to marry until Jackson was a teenager and old enough to look out for himself. He owed her big time.
He didn’t have a lot of money, but regardless of what he had to do, nobody was foreclosing on his aunt’s small home.
This job would help. And it would also propel him toward his dream. Though he’d shared the vision with no one else in case he fell on his face like a fool, Jackson had a dream that had kept him going for a long time. Someday, he’d run his own symposia on horse training and people would come from all over the country to have Jackson Kane teach them his methods. He’d take the rankest horses in the land and turn them into docile pets, well-disciplined ranch animals or fine rodeo stock.
In the meantime, he’d find a way to save Aunt Bonnie’s home and make sure she was well taken care of in her old age. That was the least he could do.
The paint gelding Shannon had called Domino wandered back toward the arena, anxiously eyeing the cowboy but clearly hoping to make his way back inside the shady barn. Jackson gnawed at the sour-apple candy and held back a smile. Old Domino had a weakness. He wondered if Shannon had noticed.
Emitting a low whistle, he waited for the horse’s reaction. As he suspected, the paint stopped dead still, flicked his ears forward and winded the strange cowboy.
Patience. That’s what a trainer needed with a horse like Domino. So Jackson leaned against the iron gate, relaxed but watchful, waiting for the horse to come to him.
He didn’t have to wait long. The gelding, tail swishing at flies, ears twitching, lowered his head and plodded toward him.
Jackson extended a hand to stroke the warm, smooth neck and inhaled the rich, animal scent. His chest strained toward contentment.
Yep. This was where he needed to be. Right here where horses were already boarded and ready to train, a ranch with a good, solid reputation. And regardless of Shannon’s attitude or resistance, Jackson Kane was here to stay. At least for the time being.
Shannon knew better than to slam the door. Although she was a grown woman, Granddad would send her back outside and make her close the door like a lady. So even if she didn’t feel much like a lady right now, she paused inside the office door and took three cleansing breaths.
Her grandfather looked up. “What’s got you in a snit?”
So much for her efforts at self-control. “I’m not in a snit, but we do need to talk. Why didn’t you tell me you’d hired Jackson Kane to work for us?”
Her grandfather laid aside his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Since his heart attack, he’d aged, and though he was seventy, Shannon had always considered him a rock until now. She’d been three when her parents had died in a car wreck and her widowed grandfather had taken her to raise. He was all the family she’d ever known and the thought of losing him scared her half to death.
Now she worried about him constantly. Nagged him to eat better, to rest more, and not to worry over her and the ranch. But she knew he did anyway.
“Now that I’m a useless old goat,” he said, “you’ve got to have some help around here.”
“But why Jackson?”
“Why not? He’s a cowboy, a mighty fine horseman, and seems like an honest enough feller.”
“How can you possibly know all that about a man who’s practically a stranger?”
“Colt Garret.”
“Oh.” Granddad would trust Colt Garret with his life. If Colt vouched for Jackson, her grandfather wouldn’t blink an eye about handing him the keys to the ranch.
She tried a new tack. “I’m the horse trainer. I don’t need him.”
“Now, Shannon, the man’s studied under John Lyons and you know dang well Lyons is the best there is. Horse breakin’ and trainin’ is a rough job, a man’s job. Why not let Jackson take over the horses so you can concentrate on running the business end of things. You’re a whale of a lot better at figures and purchasing than I am.”
“A man’s job!” Shannon hadn’t heard another word after that little jab. Of all the insults, she hated that one the most. A female doing a man’s job. All her life she’d battled ignorant horsemen who thought she should be more worried about breaking a nail than breaking a horse. Her pulse picked up. Anger lifted the hairs on her arms.
Granddad must have seen the fury in her. He raised a gnarled hand. “I won’t argue about this. Kane is hired and that’s that.”
All the blood in her body rushed to her head. “And I won’t allow it.”
“Now, Shannon—” Granddad stood up, reaching toward her, his tone cajoling. But he’d no more than found his feet when the outstretched hand grabbed for his chest.
“Granddad!” Argument forgotten in concern for the only parent she’d ever known, Shannon rushed forward to wrap her arms around him. “Is it your heart? Are you in pain?”
“Need to sit,” he managed, short of breath to the point of gasping. “My pills.”
Shannon took his arm and, frightened by the cold and clammy skin beneath her fingers, eased him onto the chair. Then she searched frantically through the desk for his medication, discovering the bottle at last beneath a stack of papers.
She shook out a pill, placed the tiny white tablet under his tongue and waited. From the looks of the bottle, this wasn’t the first episode of pain, but it was the first she’d witnessed.
“Should I call an ambulance? Or take you to the hospital?”
Eyes closed, he shook his head. “Get Kane.”
Kane? The request startled her. Why would he ask for Jackson? A sudden jolt of understanding exploded adrenaline into her bloodstream. Granddad thought he might be dying and didn’t want her to be alone.
Terrified to leave him for even a moment, Shannon had no choice. She raced to the back door and screamed out. “Jackson. Hurry. Granddad is sick!”
Waiting only long enough to see the tall Cajun jerk away from the gate and start in a long lope for the house, Shannon rushed back into the office and to her grandfather.
She sank to the floor beside his chair and laid her head against his knee as she’d done a thousand times growing up. Then the action had been to seek comfort from an anchor of a man who had all the answers. Now she needed to be the comforter, the strong one.
Please, God, don’t let me lose him. I’ll never argue with him again. Ever. If hiring Jackson makes him happy, I won’t say another word against him.
The
