had been an enormous, life-altering deal for her, and while things had turned out well enough, she resented the fact that he’d been able to blithely go on to enjoy a fabulous career when she’d had to sacrifice her own.
That was in the past now, she reminded herself, feeling the wind pick up as she increased her speed outside the town limits. Not far from the quaint shops and vintage theater, the scenery changed dramatically, and she felt her temper subsiding as she looked around her at the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. Mile after mile of wild beauty and rolling free-range pastureland flew past, broken up by ranches and small farms that seemed to be part of the landscape instead of built on top of it. Off in the distance the sun reflected off the southern face of the Bridger Mountains, giving them a cloud-like appearance that was still unlike anything she’d ever seen.
During her rodeo career, she’d traveled all over the country, racking up one barrel-racing trophy after another because she and her half-mustang palomino, Sadie, were just a tick crazier than their competition. But no city or town she’d ever been to could hold a candle to home. That was what made it home, she supposed as she turned into the long drive marked by a hand-carved sign that read Whittaker Ranch—1882.
Driving between long lines of board fence, she caught sight of her mare and smiled for the first time since Ty had rattled her in town. She pulled over and was mildly annoyed when he followed suit. Determined not to let him ruin her moment, she grabbed some dried apple slices from the stash she kept in the glove box and got out.
Sadie’s ears perked up when Morgan came around the car and headed for the fence. Nickering a greeting, the gorgeous horse tossed her head like the diva she was and pushed against the top rail, craning her neck to reach the treats.
“Hold on to yourself,” Morgan teased, using her father’s equine version of hold your horses. Sadie angled a look at her, and she laughed as she held out a handful of Sadie’s favorite snack. They were gone in an instant, and while she was snuffling around for more, she noticed Ty.
Blowing out an excited breath, she danced along the rail to where he was standing, arms spread over the top as if he’d been waiting for her to notice him. He showed her his empty hands, but apparently she didn’t mind that he didn’t have anything for her. Nosing under his palm, she nudged him into petting her cheek, then ruffling her forelock the way she liked.
“Traitor,” Morgan grumbled, but the horse didn’t seem to care that she wasn’t happy.
“How are you, Sadie girl?” their unwelcome visitor cooed, a bright smile lighting his face. “It’s been so long, I wasn’t sure you’d remember me. Clyde’s on his way, should be here day after tomorrow. Maybe we’ll come by and you two can get reacquainted.”
“If Clyde’s coming, you must be planning to stay,” Morgan said, hoping she sounded casual about the prospect. She’d assumed he was on vacation, and learning that he was planning to stick around awhile didn’t exactly thrill her.
“Not sure right now,” he hedged, rubbing Sadie’s cheek in a pitifully obvious attempt to avoid Morgan’s gaze.
Typical Ty, she thought bitterly. Look up commitmentphobe in the dictionary, you’d probably find his picture. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She didn’t want to care, but there was a teeny tiny part of her that still did. Stupid, but true.
A bit of compassion for him bubbled free of her control, and she heard herself saying, “Well, I’m sure you’ll get it all figured out.”
Glancing up from under his hat, he gave her the kind of sheepish look she’d never seen on him before. “Thanks.”
He’d stopped petting Sadie, and the spirited animal snorted her disapproval. Clearly out of patience, she gave another head toss before wheeling away from the fence and galloping off in the stunning burst of speed that had made her—and her fortunate rider—a champion many times over.
“Still gorgeous,” Ty murmured, his gaze tracking the mare as she seemed to float over the ground. Then he looked over at Morgan, and his mouth crinkled in the boyish half grin that had first buckled her knees as a teenager. “Both of you.”
It was a blatant attempt at getting on her good side, making her forget that he’d abandoned her after one of their infamous fights and had never looked back. Scowling at him for all she was worth, Morgan turned on her heel and stalked back to her car. That’s what she got for showing him some sympathy, she railed silently as the engine roared to life and she jammed the transmission into gear. The sound of gravel spitting out from under the tires perfectly matched her mood as she flew up the driveway toward the house.
If Ty Wilkins thought a few sad looks and canned compliments were going to undo what he’d done to her, that cowboy had another think coming. Once he left town, everything would go back to the way it was before he showed up. She just wished he hadn’t taken it into his head to make a detour to Mustang Ridge.
She could have happily lived the rest of her life never laying eyes on him again.
Still a spitfire.
The thought flew through Ty’s mind almost as fast as Morgan’s 4x4 was speeding away from him. During his long drive up from Texas, he’d spent a lot of his time picturing what it might be like when he encountered the fiery cowgirl again. Some of the scenarios had been downright frightening, to the point that he’d almost reconsidered the wisdom of his approach.
Then it had occurred to him that he owned nothing in this world except a few acres of land, some rodeo trophies and his truck.
Although the truck wouldn’t be his much longer, he reminded himself grimly. He’d be delivering it to its new owner tomorrow, and then he’d start hunting for something he could afford. After hitting rock bottom a few months ago, he’d come dangerously close to being forced to sell his horse. By sheer, stubborn will, he’d managed to hold on to the prized cutting horse, but it had been a near thing. He’d gotten some insane offers, but even for a down-and-out cowboy, some things were priceless.
He might have lost everything else—including his dignity—but he still had Clyde. It was one of the few victories he could claim recently. Actually, he amended as he eased himself into the cab to follow Morgan, it was the only victory. That was the unexpected advantage he’d discovered in losing pretty much everything you once considered important. Whatever you had left meant a lot more to you.
At the end of the driveway was the same sprawling farmhouse he recalled from his childhood. Driving toward it, he admired the menagerie of animals grazing in the two pastures that flanked the gravel lane. While they came across as gritty ranchers, in truth the Whittakers were all softhearted critter collectors who couldn’t seem to turn away anything that needed a home. Among the kaleidoscopic herd of about twenty horses, he spotted several goats, a cluster of sheep and something that looked suspiciously like a miniature camel.
The latter slowly raised its head, chewing its cud in a back and forth motion that gave its shaggy face a pensive appearance. When it levered its head back and brayed, it made Ty think of a tractor transmission grinding to a halt in the middle of a field. That he still remembered the death-knell sound from his days as a farmhand was actually amusing, and he couldn’t help chuckling. Some things stayed with you, he supposed, no matter how far away you’ve drifted from your roots.
Pulling into the circular turnaround near the house, he parked next to Morgan’s car and winced as he slid to the ground. The back that had once been his strongest asset wasn’t what it used to be, but bearing in mind what it had gone through, his doctors had told
