Her Holiday Rancher. Cathy Mcdavid

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СКАЧАТЬ the heavy horse held. He lay there, his back legs suspended over the hole and dripping mud, his breathing coming in great gusts.

      “Give him a few minutes,” Gabe said, flexing his cramped and aching fingers. “Then we’ll get him up.”

      “Okay.” Reese stood bent at the waist, her hands braced on her knees.

      Gabe, too, rested. How long had this taken? Thirty minutes? An hour? He wasn’t sure. Except that, for whatever time it took, he hadn’t once thought of his father’s death.

      “My God, Gabe, you did it! You saved him.”

      The next instant, Reese slammed into him, her arms circling his neck. He automatically steadied them both by holding on to her.

      “Thank you,” she said, clinging to him, her face buried in his coat.

      He stared at the top of her head, momentarily stunned. He’d touched Reese just one other time in their entire lives. They’d been in high school, at their senior prom. He’d cradled her while she cried and begged him not to tell anyone she was pregnant.

      * * *

      “YOU SHOULD CALL the vet right away.”

      Reese didn’t need Gabe to tell her that. Of course she’d call the vet. The second she and General arrived home. But, seeing as Gabe had rescued her father’s favorite horse, and she was eternally grateful, she bit her tongue.

      “I will.”

      They’d finally managed to coax General to his feet after a ten-minute respite. The poor gelding was utterly depleted and stood with his head hanging low and his nose to the ground. If it were at all possible to drive a truck and trailer into these rugged hills, she’d do it. Unfortunately, she and General would have to travel by foot.

      “Come on.” Gabe grabbed hold of his mare’s reins and mounted with the grace and ease of someone who rode daily. Once seated, he stared at her expectantly.

      “What?” she asked.

      He patted the mare’s hindquarters. “Climb aboard. Daylight’s wasting.”

      Reese blinked in astonishment. “You’re suggesting we ride double?”

      “Your horse won’t make it thirty feet carrying you.”

      Did he believe her a nitwit? Just because she’d been away from Mustang Valley for a long time didn’t mean she’d forgotten everything she’d ever learned.

      “I was planning on walking.” She picked her hat off the ground from where it had fallen. “At least to the road.”

      “I’ll take you,” he said, as if it were already decided. He removed his left foot from the stirrup.

      “You don’t have to do this.”

      “You’re tuckered out. And it’ll be dark soon.”

      He was right. The sun had started dropping, along with the temperature. General was wet and starting to shake. If she didn’t get him moving soon, he’d catch a chill. Her, too.

      “Fine.”

      He raised one brow as if to remark, “Funny way of saying thanks.”

      Gabe had always been able to convey enormous emotion using very few words. It was a quality she’d found intriguing from the time they were young. That, and his good looks. His Hispanic heritage, courtesy of his mother, blended beautifully with his Dempsey genes. Dark hair, silver-gray eyes, a strong jaw, tanned complexion and a wide mouth created for kissing.

      Not that she had kissed him. Or even thought about it. Okay, not much.

      She and Gabe had grown up neighbors, but also rivals, thanks to their fathers’ lifelong feud. They’d steered as clear of each other as much as humanly possible in a small community the size of Mustang Valley.

      Six months ago, she’d returned after a twelve-year absence. This afternoon was the first time she and Gabe had spoken since the night of their senior prom.

      She should, she supposed, thank him for something else besides saving General. He’d kept his promise and said nothing about her pregnancy. If he had, she would have heard. Secrets like hers were too titillating to resist repeating.

      Holding General’s reins with her right hand, she clasped Gabe’s outstretched one with her left. Then, putting her foot in the empty stirrup, she let him assist her onto the mare’s back.

      “Can she carry the two of us?” she asked, settling in behind Gabe. The mare was on the small side and worn out after her recent efforts.

      “She’ll manage.”

      The next moment, they were off. At the mare’s first hop over a hole, Reese grabbed Gabe’s middle rather than be dumped on the ground. She swore he chuckled beneath his breath. Or it might have been the wind.

      “How’s he doing?” Gabe asked after a few minutes.

      Reese looked behind her at General, and her heart hurt. “He’s limping on his right rear leg.”

      “Will he make it to the road?”

      “I think so.” Then she could call the house and have someone from the Small Change meet them with a truck and trailer.

      If her phone had worked when General fell into the sinkhole, she wouldn’t have had to rely on Gabe’s help. She’d tried repeatedly to get a signal, but there had been none. She was lucky he’d ridden by. And that it was today rather than tomorrow, after the reading of August Dempsey’s will.

      “Thank you again,” she said. “I owe you.”

      He simply grunted.

      “For a lot more than saving General,” she added, wondering if he understood her meaning.

      “I’m a man of my word.”

      Okay, he did understand. “For which I’m very appreciative.”

      She waited for him to ask her what had happened to the baby. Where she’d gone when she left Mustang Valley. What she’d done. If she’d ever told Blake Nolan, the baby’s father.

      Gabe remained stoically silent, and she sensed an unmistakable tension coursing through him.

      The next mile passed slowly. Every few minutes, Reese checked on General. His limp was getting worse, and she gritted her teeth. How far to the road? She craned her neck in order to look ahead over Gabe’s broad shoulder.

      In hindsight, she should have waited to take General out until later in the week when she was less busy. But she hated seeing the stout gelding cooped up day after day in his stall, barely ridden.

      It wasn’t her father’s fault. He would exercise General every day if his health permitted. This morning, simply crawling out of bed to attend August Dempsey’s funeral had been a challenge. Riding was out of the question.

      “It was nice of you to come today,” СКАЧАТЬ