Her Last Chance. Deanna Talcott

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СКАЧАТЬ jaw. No. Absolutely not. Being in the dark, with a little moonlight and few freckles of stars in a blue-black sky, with a woman like Mallory—a woman who made his hands itch and his blood pound—was an invitation to trouble. “Nah,” he said, brushing aside the invitation. “Go ahead. I’ve got some reading to catch up on.”

      Mallory tossed the coffee cups in the dish drainer and pulled the plug on the sink. “You’re sure?”

      “Yeah.”

      A hint of disappointment clouded her features.

      She probably wasn’t used to being rejected, he thought irritably as he reached for last week’s stock market analysis. Either that or she liked to call the shots on everything, even a tumble through the sheets.

      Yet, when she strolled out the back door and into the gathering dusk, it was he who experienced the greatest regret.

      Chase couldn’t concentrate; nothing he’d read made any sense. Mallory was probably fine, but he shouldn’t have let her go out by herself. He glanced at the clock. She’d been gone almost an hour, and it was dark. Maybe she’d started talking to one of the hands; they followed her like lapdogs whenever they had the chance. Gabe, a fresh-faced twenty-year-old, loved to brag to her about his bull-riding exploits. Tony, with a couple of drops of Spanish blood running through his veins, had started wearing clean shirts and peppering his sentences with “señorita” every time she was near—as if he’d been raised across the border instead of in Boise.

      Tossing the paperwork on the table, he stretched his legs, crossing one booted foot over the other. He may as well admit it, the woman was wreaking havoc with his senses and with his life. When she went home, he imagined he and his ranch hands would feel as if someone had taken the plug out of the fourteen-karat sunshine she seemed to spread.

      She sure knew her horses, he’d give her that. She may have claimed she didn’t want blue-ribbon horseflesh, but all her petty criticisms said otherwise. He grinned, remembering her lame excuse for not wanting Pritchett, the last mare he’d offered her.

      Her ears were just a little “too pointy.” Yep. Pointy ears would get you every time.

      Chase flexed his hand and studied the bandage, remembering the way Mallory’s fingers brushed against the sensitive spot inside his wrist as she examined his palm. His flesh still tingled, nearly blotting out all the pain.

      Huh. The way Peggy Sue was having at him, she made him look like a beat-up cowpoke who didn’t have one lick of horse sense. Yesterday she’d stomped on his instep, the day before she’d charged him, catching his shoulder against the wall. The duplicitous little vixen had astounding strength, even though she was so sickly, most days she could barely hold her head up. It was time to make a decision about what to do with her—and the sooner the better. She was beginning to be a risk, even a liability. His reasons for keeping her were beginning to dwindle and fade.

      He flexed his hand again and grimaced. He didn’t know why he was spending so much of his time thinking about Mallory, because it was Peggy Sue who was leaving her mark on him.

      Painfully he hauled himself out of the chair and dragged his weary body over to the door. Snagging his hat from the peg, he pulled it low over his eyes. “Time to find the little woman,” he muttered.

      The moment he stepped out on the back porch and saw that the sliding door to the east barn had been pushed open, a feeling of dread washed over him. The overhead light inside the barn was on. He immediately forgot his pain, and his boot heels barely hit the stair treads as he picked up the pace.

      The moment he slipped inside the barn he knew. He could hear Mallory’s soft, crooning voice. He heard Peggy Sue whicker in answer. His heart did a double-time dance in his chest, and his blood went cold.

      If anything happened to her…

      The door to Peggy Sue’s stall was open. Chase’s knees went weak.

      Barely breathing, he inched down the alleyway, until he was even with her stall.

      Peggy Sue immediately tossed her magnificent white head, going wild-eyed, as her nose curled to expose bared teeth. The filly, even though she was on the small side, carried herself with a regal, haughty stature. Her alabaster coat faded into steel gray dappling over her rump. Her long mane and tail, also white, was tangled and dirty.

      “Whoa, baby, what’s the matter?” Mallory murmured. With her back to Chase, she stood at Peggy Sue’s withers, and ran a hand down her neck. In her opposite hand she held a currycomb.

      “Mallory,” Chase said quietly, “get out of that stall now.”

      Mallory whirled, surprised by his entrance. “I found her, Chase,” she said breathlessly, her face animated. “The one I want. This is it! This is the horse I’ve been looking for!”

      Behind her, Peggy Sue startled, her front feet coming a foot off the ground.

      “Mallory, I said get out of that stall. Now.”

      Mallory lost her balance and stumbled as Peggy Sue bumped her shoulders, her back. But Mallory, unfazed, squared off, planting her feet. “She’s wonderful, she’s spirited, she’s—”

      “She’s going to kill you. Now, get out.”

      Mallory’s eyes flashed and she straightened. “Don’t be silly,” she laughed. “I don’t care what this horse costs. I have to have her. She’s all I’ve ever imagined—and more.”

      Chase’s muscles tensed. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Mallory.”

      “Oh, but I do,” she said, leaning back and affectionately sinking her shoulder blades against Peggy Sue’s neck. Chase’s eyes briefly shuttered closed, willing the animal not to swing around and take a sizable bite out of her. “This horse is the thing legends are made of,” she said, her voiced filled with awe. “She’s a descendant of European stock. Her neck. Her head. Her coloring.”

      “That horse,” Chase warned, his voice low, the cadence carefully measured, “is the meanest, orneriest she-devil this side of the Mississippi. She’s got mixed blood in her. Mustang and Morgan. And she’s not for sale. She’s sick and mean and crazy. Now, either you get out of that stall, or I’m taking you out.”

      Mallory’s face fell. “Chase, she’s sick…I can see that…but this animal’s spirit…”

      “Mallory, I’m warning you.”

      She stared at him, then she tried a different tack. “Chase, she’ll have the best vets! The best of everything. I’ll see to it. Hey, girl, when I get you home…” She playfully slapped Peggy Sue on the shoulder.

      Peggy Sue jumped, a dangerous whicker rumbling through her gaunt white sides.

      “Don’t,” Chase spat, clenching his hands. “You’re going to spook her, and then there’ll be hell to pay.” He stepped one foot inside the stall.

      Peggy Sue whirled her great head in his direction, as if daring him. The motion knocked Mallory off her planted feet, and the currycomb sailed across the stall.

      “Mallory, for your own safety and well-being—”

      Peggy Sue laid her ears back, giving the СКАЧАТЬ