Aidan: Loyal Cowboy

“No one’s stopping you.”

It would be easier to hate him if he didn’t appear contrite and miserable.

She’d seen him steady a full-grown steer as it collapsed to the ground. Cushion the animal with his body in order to spare it injury.

How could a man so big and strong and capable be completely inept when it came to understanding women? No wonder he was still a bachelor.

Who was she to talk? She had one failed marriage behind her. A marriage that was, in all probability, a rebound from Ace.

“Flynn…” He reached for her.

“Forget it.” She started toward the horse pens where her father waited, then hesitated. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and faced Ace. “You made a big mistake three weeks ago. You walked out on the best thing to happen to you in a long time.”

She expected him to blush and falter and possibly be at a loss for words. That happened to him on occasion.

Today, he surprised her.

He met her stare head-on and said without missing a beat, “You’re right.”

Then why? her mind cried out.

When he said nothing else, she left, sniffing in an attempt to hold back her tears. She’d given him an opening, a chance to say he wanted to see her again, and he’d refused it.

When would she learn?

She’d come home to Roundup following her divorce, in large part because of Ace and the possibility that they could pick up where they’d left off.

Except they hadn’t—a one-night stand years later didn’t count—and, after today, it didn’t appear as though they ever would.

Chapter Two

“Last up, folks, is the horse you’ve all been waiting for, The Midnight Express.” Loud speakers mounted from poles on either side of the ring gave the auctioneer’s voice a tinny and abrasive quality. “This here stud’s lineage goes all the way back to the great hall-of-fame bucking horse Five Minutes to Midnight. He’s won Bucking Horse of the Year twice, competed at the National Finals Rodeo a total of five times and has sired over sixty offspring, seven of which are actively competing on the rodeo circuit and doing well for their owners.”

Flynn sat with her father in the aluminum bleachers, listening to the auctioneer recite Midnight’s selling points. The horse himself, however, had yet to make an appearance in the ring.

She fingered the flyer in her hand as they waited. Murmurings as to the reason for the holdup traveled through the crowd like a signal zipping along a cable. Her father’s boot beat an agitated tattoo on the bleacher floor. He’d shown some interest in a few of the other bucking horses up for sale but let them all go to other bidders.

Ace was the new owner of ten, mostly mares. He and his family sat not far from Flynn, down a couple of rows and one section over. She’d noticed him glancing in her direction now and again, had noticed because her glance was constantly straying to him.

Enough already, she chided herself. He’s not worth it.

And yet, her insides insisted on fluttering.

“What’s taking so dang long?” her father complained to no one in particular.

“Are you going to bid on him?”

“Yep.”

“A stud horse, Dad? What happened to retiring?”

“I wouldn’t retire if I owned that horse.”

He’d been going back and forth for months now. Flynn had, too.

If her father got out of the business and moved to Billings to be near her sister, what would she do?

She regularly helped with his bulls and string of bucking stock and had since she was a young girl. After earning her associate’s degree in business administration, she also assisted him with the office work during evenings and weekends. Monday through Friday, she worked as an administrator at the Roundup Emergency Care Clinic. Pushing papers was her forte, if not her passion.

Once, she’d aspired to work in management for a large corporation. Except she hadn’t been able to get her foot in the door. Not like her ex-husband, whose career had soared while hers stagnated.

They’d originally planned to wait a few years before starting a family. With her career stuck in neutral, Flynn saw no reason to postpone having the children she’d always wanted. Her ex-husband adamantly refused, and Flynn was forced to let another dream go unfulfilled.

Her discontent increased when her older sister, Nora, a pharmacist, married a great guy and promptly bore the first of Flynn’s two nephews. How was it her sister seemed to effortlessly attain everything Flynn wanted?

If her father retired, there’d be opportunities. She’d been considering them for weeks with great deliberation. More since she lost her head and slept with Ace.

His abrupt departure had hurt, but it also drove home the point that the time had come and gone for her to let the past go and move forward.

The idea of returning to school appealed to her the most, but it would be next to impossible without moving from Roundup.

A rumbling from the crowd caused Flynn’s head to snap up. Midnight was being led into the ring. No, dragged into the ring, by two wranglers. With all four hooves digging into the muddy dirt, the horse lowered his hindquarters almost to the ground and resisted the tug from the two lead ropes connected to his halter. A third man, the livestock foreman hired by Wally Dunlap’s heirs, followed behind. He held a buggy whip and flicked it in the air behind Midnight, the snapping sound intended to encourage the horse.

It didn’t. Midnight bore down harder.

Flynn wanted to shout a protest. She wasn’t alone. Ace sprang to his feet, an angry scowl on his face, his flyer crushed between his fingers.

Just when she thought he might leap across six bleacher rows and over the ring fence, the horse went suddenly still and straightened. The wranglers must have decided to quit while they were ahead because they abandoned their efforts and stood, the lead ropes stretched taut.

Midnight ignored them. Raising his head, he stared proudly and defiantly at the audience. His mane and forelock fluttered in the same chilly breeze that snuck up the back of Flynn’s neck and caused her to shiver.

Or was the horse himself responsible for her reaction?

Up until this moment, she hadn’t understood the fuss. Sure, Midnight was good-looking, with quality bloodlines and a proven history as a champion bucking horse and sire. But there were lots of stallions like him for sale these days.

Seeing Midnight in the ring, however, she glimpsed the greatness in him that had excited her father and Ace and everyone else at the auction.

“Isn’t he something?”

“Are you sure about this, Dad?”

“I don’t want Ace and Sarah to have him.”

“Please don’t turn this into a competition with them.”

Her words fell on deaf ears. The auctioneer’s singsong litany had started.

“What do you say? Let’s start the bidding at twenty thousand dollars. Do I have twenty thousand?”

As if on cue, people inched forward in their seats, Flynn and her father included.

“Fifteen, do I hear fifteen?”

When the auctioneer dropped to five thousand dollars, the bidding took off. Her father didn’t join in until the going price reached ten thousand dollars. Ace refrained, Flynn noticed, his attention riveted on the horse.

Her father’s hand continually went up as he outbid everyone. When the price reached twenty-seven thousand dollars, only her father and one other man remained.

Flynn began to worry in earnest. Did her father have that kind of money?

“Twenty-seven, twenty-seven, someone give me twenty-eight thousand?” the auctioneer intoned.

“Twenty-seven, five.”

Every head in the stands turned toward the sound of a new voice. It belonged to Ace.

“Dammit,” Flynn’s father groused beneath his breath and raised his hand again. “Twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-nine.” This from the other man.

With Ace’s participation, the price was quickly driven up to thirty-five thousand dollars, her father making the last bid.

Flynn went from worrying to panicking. Surely he couldn’t raise that much money. He was letting the excitement of the bidding cloud his judgment.

“Dad, don’t be foolish.”

“I want that horse.”

“We’ll buy another horse.” A less expensive one.

“None of them are like Midnight.”

Evidently Ace felt the same, for he shouted, “Thirty-six thousand dollars.”

The other man promptly resigned with a discouraged head shake. “Too rich for my blood.”

That left Ace and Flynn’s father.

How was this possible? The two men she cared most for in the whole world were fighting over a stupid horse.

Wait a minute, she didn’t care about Ace.

Right.

If someone ever invented a cure for unrequited love, she’d be the first in line to try it.

“Thirty-seven thousand,” her father shouted.

The crowd clapped and cheered. Easy for them, Flynn thought, it wasn’t their life’s savings on the line.

“This is insane,” she hissed. “You don’t have thirty-seven thousand dollars.”

“There’s my line of credit with the bank.”

“That’s for running the business!”

“Buying a bucking horse is business.”

“No, this is an absurd rivalry and refusing to let the Harts get one up on you. What’s the matter with you? You don’t act like this.”

For a moment, time froze. Then his face fell, and he groaned miserably. “Oh, God. What’s wrong with me?”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it between hers, relief leaving her weak.

“I don’t know what came over me. It’s just…” He groaned again.

“I have thirty-seven thousand dollars,” the auctioneer boomed. “Do I have thirty-eight?”

Ace and his mother bent their heads together and conferred behind the shield of their hands.

“Going once.”

Flynn went rigid. Why wasn’t Ace bidding?

“Going twice.”

Oh, no! What if the Harts dropped out?

Easy. Her father would have purchased a horse he really didn’t need for a sum of money he couldn’t possibly afford.

This couldn’t be happening!

“Thirty-eight thousand,” Ace shouted.

Flynn’s heart started beating again.

When the auctioneer finally called, “Sold to number fifty-seven,” a minute later, she let herself breathe.

The auction was over, and her father had spent no more than the price of gas for a round-trip.

Why, then, did he appear glum?

“Dad, you okay?” All around them the bleachers had started to empty, yet her father didn’t rise.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Is your indigestion bothering you again?”

“I’m fine.” He promptly pushed to his feet and extended a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Flynn couldn’t be more ready and happily dropped the subject of his health and listlessness. Maybe she’d phone her sister, Nora, tonight. See if she could convince their dad to open up about what was bothering him lately. Perhaps he was having a midlife crisis or had grown tired of being single all these years.

Grabbing two cups of coffee at the concession stand for the drive, she and her father strode across the area between the barn and the field that served as a parking lot. A line of people had formed in front of the converted motor home that was being used as a consignment office. The door to the motor home opened, and Ace and Sarah emerged. Ace went first, turning to assist his mother. They both wore happy smiles, Ace’s devastatingly handsome.

Flynn ignored the quickening of her pulse. That smile had been her undoing once too often.

“Hold on a second.” To her surprise, her father started toward the Harts.

“What is it?” She hurried after him.

Her question was answered when they met up with Ace and Sarah.

“Congratulations.” Her father shook Sarah’s hand, then Ace’s. “You got yourself a fine stallion there.”

Flynn sensed Ace studying her, and her gloved fingers curled into tight balls. She would not return his look, not give him the satisfaction of learning the extent to which he affected her.

“Thank you, Earl.” Sarah beamed. “I have to confess, he was almost yours.”

“The right person bought him. Just wanted to tell you and that there are no hard feelings.”

“I appreciate it. Truly, I do. Are you still considering adding to your string? There should be some quality livestock at the Miles City Sale.”

“Naw. I’m going to quit the business.”

Flynn exhaled. This time he sounded serious.

“What will you do?” Sarah asked.

“Sell off my string, the ranch, everything. Move to Billings to live near Nora and her husband.”

“Oh, Earl. That’s a big step.”

“What are you going to do?” Ace asked.

It took Flynn a moment for her to realize he was speaking to her.

She did look at him then, unable to stop herself.

“Attend Montana State University,” she said with newfound determination. “Enroll in nursing school.”

“I didn’t realize you wanted to be a nurse.”

“For a while now.” She glanced at her father. “I’ve been talking to some of the nurses at the clinic, and I think I’d be good at it.”

Not that she didn’t enjoy her job at the clinic—parts of it, anyway. But she was capable of so much more than grunt work. She wanted to have an impact. Make a difference. Contribute in a more meaningful way.

“You’ll be a wonderful nurse.” Sarah gave Flynn a brief but affectionate hug. “Earl, you must be proud.”

“I’m proud of her whatever she does.”

Flynn’s triumph dimmed when she met Ace’s frown.

Seriously? What did he have to be annoyed about?

“We’re going to miss you,” he said stiffly, and stuffed the sale papers he’d been holding into the front pocket of his jacket.

Your family, or you? Flynn wanted to ask, fairly certain she already knew the answer wasn’t him.

* * *

FLYNN WAS LEAVING! MOVING to Billings. And she wanted to be a nurse. Ace couldn’t believe it.

Not that she wouldn’t make a great nurse, he just didn’t recall her ever mentioning it before.

Of course, the last time they were together, their talk had centered on their lovemaking and how incredible they made each other feel. Not any potential career changes.

“Heads-up!” Duke yelled.

The warning came in the nick of time. Ace jumped onto the bottom rung of the fence and out of the way a scant second before two of their newly purchased bucking mares trampled him. He remained clinging to the fence until the coast was clear, then hopped off.

“Three more to go,” Uncle Joshua hollered from the pen. “Coming your way.”

Ace’s uncle lived on Thunder Ranch and was in charge of their remaining bulls and cattle. He’d moved to the ranch when his twin sons, Duke and Beau, were knee-high, as he was fond of saying. Before then, he’d spent many years working for Flynn’s grandfather.

For supposed rivals, the Harts and the McKinleys were connected on many levels.

Ace’s thoughts circled right back to Flynn.

She was moving.

As much as he hated her leaving, it probably was for the best. She deserved a man able to commit to her, not one dividing himself between his vet practice and managing his family’s various businesses.

“Pay attention,” Duke complained.

“Sorry,” Ace grumbled. “Got a lot on my mind.”

They herded the remaining three horses down the narrow aisle and into the waiting stock trailer. Their hooves created a tremendous clatter as they hopped inside to join the other two horses, who shifted to accommodate the newcomers. A few squealed, defending their small territory against their neighbor.

While some bucking horses were friendly enough around people, others weren’t. Driving them down a narrow aisle and up into a trailer was often the easiest and most effective method of loading them.

“Midnight the only one left?” Ace had been so preoccupied with Flynn, he’d lost track of the horses they’d already loaded. He glanced over at the second trailer they’d brought and started counting.

“The wranglers are bringing him round now,” Duke said.

Ace didn’t wait. He disliked the manner in which the wranglers and livestock foreman had handled Midnight during the auction. Not that they’d hurt him, but they’d been unnecessarily heavy-handed.

While Duke and Uncle Joshua made sure the horses were secure for the trip, Ace trudged up the aisle to the pen holding Midnight. One wrangler held the horse’s lead rope while the other manned the gate.

“Thanks for your help, guys,” Ace told the wranglers. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Your horse.” The wrangler at the gate stepped aside.

Ace went right up to Midnight and grabbed the lead rope from the second wrangler’s outstretched hand. The rope went instantly slack. Well, well, Midnight was no longer fighting.

“Good boy,” Ace crooned, stroking the horse’s neck.

Midnight took a hesitant step toward the gate, then another.

“That’s right.” Ace walked along beside him, pleased Midnight was going to make this easy. He could use something going his way after his encounter with Flynn.

He and Midnight reached the gate. It was wide enough for only one of them to pass through at a time. Ace started to go first.

All at once, Midnight charged through the gate, shoving Ace aside and into the railing. He tried but couldn’t hang on to the lead rope and it tore from his grasp.

Free at last, the horse broke into a gallop.

“Look out,” Ace yelled as Midnight bolted down the aisle.

Wranglers scrambled out of the horse’s path, diving for cover. Ace ran after him, slipping and sliding in the muddy ground and nearly losing his balance twice. Pain sliced through his back from his collision with the railing.

When Midnight reached the end of the aisle, he skidded to a halt and stared at the trailer, his flanks heaving, his high-arched tail swishing nervously. Thank goodness the opening was blocked by the trailer, or else the horse would have likely made for the hills.

He swung his large body around as Ace approached, tossing his head angrily as if to say, “Drats, foiled again.”

“Where exactly did you think you were going?” Ace stopped, bent, braced his hands on his knees and studied the horse, his lungs on fire.

Midnight pawed the ground, then turned back to face the trailer. A panel had been closed, separating the trailer into two compartments, the rear one empty. Ace could imagine the horse weighing his options.

“Make this easy, pal. Go in the trailer.”

Duke and Uncle Joshua came over, their faces split by amused grins Ace didn’t find the least bit funny. They’d exercised considerably more intelligence than him and remained on the opposite side of the fence railing, clear of harm’s way.

“You should have seen yourself running after that horse.” Uncle Joshua broke into laughter and elbowed Duke in the ribs. “Where’s a video camera when you need one?”

Duke, usually more somber, laughed along with his dad.

“I just want to get this damn horse loaded,” Ace grumbled.

Midnight snorted and pawed the ground again, his lead rope dangling in the mud.

“Need help?” the livestock foreman asked. He strolled toward Ace, the buggy whip gripped at his side.

“We’re okay.” In Ace’s opinion, that livestock foreman and his whip were the reason Midnight bolted in the first place.

Raising his arms and waving them slowly, Ace clucked to Midnight. The two wranglers came up behind Ace, blocking any potential escape route.

Duke started toward the slim opening between the fence and the rear corner of the trailer. “You want me to grab his lead rope?”

“No, stay put,” Ace ordered. “The last thing we need is someone getting hurt.”

Someone else getting hurt, he thought, and rolled his sore shoulder.

Five minutes later, Midnight had yet to budge.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a horse whisperer?” the livestock foreman asked, a slight jeer in his voice. “Can’t you just whisper him into the trailer?”

If only it were that simple.

Clouds gathered in the sky overhead, and the temperature had dropped by several degrees. It was going to rain again. Possibly snow. They really needed to be on the road soon to avoid any dangerous weather conditions.

Midnight stared at the trailer holding his companions. He wanted to be with them. Horses were herd animals by nature and this was his herd. But he was also stubborn and unwilling to give an inch.

“All of you, leave,” Ace said.

“What?” Uncle Joshua scoffed. “You crazy?”

“You heard me. Leave.” Ace turned to the wranglers and livestock foreman. “And no one comes round until that horse is loaded.”

“I’m not leaving,” Uncle Joshua protested.

“Come on, Dad.” Duke clapped his father’s shoulder. “Ace knows best.”

The men shrugged and grumbled and complained, but they also did as requested. Ace was pretty sure he heard the livestock foreman refer to him by a rather colorful name.

Walking casually down the aisle, Ace left Midnight alone. He waited at the pen, keeping an eye on the horse. Unless Midnight chose to jump the five-foot fence, an unlikely probability, his options were limited.

“Let’s go, boy,” he muttered to himself. “Into the trailer. Nobody’s watching you.”

Midnight lifted one front leg, held it poised in the air.

Ace mentally willed the horse forward. “Come on, you can do it.”

He noticed a few stragglers and the cleanup crew observing with obvious interest. His mother, too. He didn’t care, as long as they stayed away.

A horse inside the trailer whinnied. Another one clanged a hoof against the sidewall.

It was apparently the encouragement Midnight needed. Tentatively, he approached the rear of the trailer. Placing one front foot on the trailer floor, he waited. And waited. Finally he hoisted the front half of his body inside.

“Halfway there, pal,” Ace murmured.

With a mighty grunt, Midnight hopped into the trailer, settling himself in the empty compartment as if it were just another day, just another trailer ride.

Ace held up a warning hand to his cousin and uncle when they would have climbed the fence. He let a full minute pass before he started down the aisle. When he reached the trailer, he swung the rear gate closed and latched it, the metallic clink making a very satisfying sound.

“Hallelujah!” Uncle Joshua exclaimed. “Let’s get the heck out of here before the storm hits.”

Ace checked Midnight one last time, chuckling to himself. He was going to like this horse.

Chapter Three

Ace and Duke climbed into the cab of the truck hauling Midnight and the mares. His mother and uncle got into the cab of the other truck. They formed a small caravan as they slowly navigated the road from the auction grounds to Highway 12.

“You hungry?” Duke asked.

“Starving.” Waiting out stubborn horses was hard work, as was an unplanned confrontation with an irate woman.

“I’ll call Dad in a bit. Maybe we can eat at the truck stop we passed on the way here.”

Ace removed his cowboy hat and set it on the seat between him and Duke. By prior agreement, they’d split the chore of driving. Ace had taken the first shift to the auction from Roundup, needing the distraction to combat his nervousness.

He wished he was driving now, he could use another distraction. When he wasn’t contemplating Midnight’s puzzling behavior, he was imagining Flynn packing boxes and cartons in preparation for moving. She’d been a fixture in his life for much of it, except during the time she was married.

He’d never liked her husband and was convinced the fool didn’t deserve Flynn.

Ace didn’t deserve her, either.

He recalled her face that morning three weeks ago and grimaced. Could he have treated her more cruelly? He’d told himself it was necessary, that to lead her on would be unfair. She’d form expectations, ones he couldn’t meet.