stuck to the mare’s back as though her denim pants were sewn to the saddle. She leaned forward and touched her heels to the horse.
The mare shot up and took off across the desert. He could see Skylar was trying to nudge the stubborn horse to the right. When the mare didn’t respond, Skylar’s left arm shot out, and to Tucker’s surprise, a bull whip uncoiled from her hand and pierced the air with a sharp snap.
The horse veered right.
“I’ll be damned.” A smile tugged at his lips as he watched the woman and mare in sheer amazement.
“What the hell!” Chance bumped Tucker away from the door frame as he barged outside with his gun drawn. “I heard—”
“Skylar riding a mare,” Tucker finished for him as he glanced at his brother’s half-shaven face. “You might want to pull your jaw shut. All that sweet lather’s bound to attract flies.”
“She’s riding one of your mares.”
“She is,” Tucker said, shifting his gaze back toward the open desert.
“She’s got a bullwhip,” Chance said as the whip cracked again.
“She certainly does.”
Skylar continued maneuvering the horse in different directions, only cracking the whip when the horse didn’t respond to her nudges. Garret stayed close by, riding a short distance behind her. After a few minutes of zigzagging, the mustang was catching on, taking its cues without being prompted by the crack of the whip.
“That’s the damnedest thing I ever saw,” said Chance as he holstered his gun. “Has she whipped the horse at all?”
“Nope.”
“I told you Daines was known to be one hell of a horse trainer,” Chance said, sounding smug.
Tucker laughed at the jubilant gleam in his brother’s eyes. Seemed they had their horse trainer after all. “Maybe you ought to finish shaving before your lather starts to crack.” Still needing a shave, Tucker followed Chance inside.
When Tucker returned to the yard the buckskin Skylar had ridden was tethered outside the corral, the saddle already pulled from its back. Not seeing any sign of the boss lady, Tucker approached the tethered buckskin.
“Easy, girl,” he murmured, running a hand across her thick, golden coat. He inspected the horse’s flank for any abrasions caused by Skylar’s spurs.
The mare didn’t have a mark on her.
“I didn’t bloody your horse, Morgan.”
Tucker glanced back at the woman standing behind him, her hands firmly planted on her hips, a coil of rope over one shoulder, her bullwhip coiled around the other. Narrowed blue eyes bore into him as he turned to face her.
Daines had either been a desperate man, incredibly brave or just plain stupid. If Daines hadn’t been killed by horse thieves, he surely would have had hell to pay when Skylar reached Wyoming and discovered he’d lied to her. Thanks to Zach Daines, Tucker was left to deal with her wrath.
“I didn’t accuse you of any such thing,” he said in an easy tone. “In fact, I’m impressed as hell by the way you handled this mare.”
“I’m just getting the job done. If you have a preference as to which horses you want gentled, say so now.”
“After watching you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you broke them all before we leave.”
“I don’t break horses, I train them.”
Tucker didn’t miss the sharp edge in her tone. “There’s a difference?” he asked, fully aware that there was and quite certain of her position between the two. Yet he was curious to hear Skylar’s take on the subject. Or maybe he enjoyed the incredulous expression that eased her harsh frown.
Her big blue eyes widened a fraction, her lips parted.
Full, pink lips.
For a shrew, she had the most kissable lips he’d ever seen.
“You say you own a horse ranch?” she asked.
“It’s a new business venture,” he explained, which was true. He’d gentled a few horses in his day, but he was far from being a skilled trainer. His field of expertise was tracking vermin. “Are you going to enlighten me or stand there and silently call me an idiot?”
She took her time in deciding. Then those pretty pink lips shifted into a slight grin, and Tucker felt a true sense of caution.
“A spirited horse with good training,” she said, “knows its job, can execute routine tasks with little to no prompting, and most importantly, has enough sense to know when a useless lump is riding on its back. A real intelligent horse will unload that useless baggage at the soonest opportunity. Pleasant creatures, really.”
Skylar’s tight smile told Tucker he’d been lumped into her useless-baggage category of riders. Although judging by her hostility, men in general occupied that category.
“A horse that’s been broken,” she continued, “has been bullied into doing its master’s bidding. Convinced it’s too stupid to think for itself, it relies on the rider for guidance. Unfortunate, and frequently disastrous. From my own observations, I’d choose horse sense over a cowboy’s any day.”
Tucker didn’t doubt it. “Why didn’t you take the spotted mare out first?”
Her blue eyes narrowed and Tucker had to fight a grin. She didn’t like being questioned. He was suddenly overwhelmed by curiosity, his mind filling with questions he couldn’t wait to have answered by his new horse trainer.
“She’s the strongest, most ill-tempered of the lot. But don’t worry, Morgan, she’ll be gentled. I’ll take her out just as soon as she wears herself out a bit more warming to that saddle. Like I said, if you have a preference with the others, say so now.”
“Miss Skylar, you can go ahead and pick and choose as you see fit.”
“Good.” She turned her back on him and opened the gate. Tucker watched her shrug the rope from her left shoulder and open her lasso as she spotted the mare she wanted. She tossed her rope, snaring the mare with an ease that came from years of practice. The kid hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said his sister knew her business.
“Morgan, are you gonna come take this mare or am I working alone today?”
He tensed at her impatient tone. Lord, my brain must have been floating in whiskey when she walked into Big Jack’s. He wasn’t about to let her walk all over him.
He entered the corral and held his hand out to take the rope. “Is calling me ‘Morgan’ a shortcut so you don’t have to figure out which one of us you’re talking to?”
“No, Tucker.” She turned, leveling her gaze on him. “It’s supposed to keep things formal between us.”
Tucker couldn’t fight his smile, a small part of him liking that she recognized him from Chance, and mostly amused that she felt she needed anything
