The Cowboy's Bride

He clenched the steering wheel as he thought once again of Lane’s audacity. How had he even thought Joe would go along with his lies?

He hit the outskirts of town, pressed down on the accelerator and tried to outrun his thoughts.

Rebecca drew back from the window and glanced guiltily over her shoulder. But no one stood in the doorway watching her watch Joe Brewer. When she looked out again, Joe was driving his battered pickup away from the bank, and the beautiful young woman who had come running up to him still stood watching him.

A real ladies’ man, she thought. Not her type.

Rebecca sat carefully at her desk, forcing herself to forget how easily Joe had caught her when she almost fell in front of him. She still didn’t know what had caused her stumble. She hadn’t tripped like that in weeks, and of course it would happen in front of a man who, it seemed, had half the female population of this town falling all over him in other ways.

She wrinkled her nose at the memory of his dark hair, dangerous eyes fringed with ridiculously long eyelashes and self-assured grin. Joe reminded her of some clients she had met in her job with the bank in Calgary. Self-assured young men who were cocky until things don’t go their way.

Rebecca preferred her men more polished, less overwhelming.

More like…Dale?

Rebecca smiled as she remembered how delighted Jenna had been when Dale had shown interest in her. Jenna made no secret of the fact that she was pleased to see her sister willing to date again. It had been over a year since Kyle and the accident that sunny afternoon.

Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut, fighting off the wave of panic as snatches of unwanted memory returned—her fear and panic as Kyle came after her, the weight of the horse falling on her.

Clenching her teeth, she forced the thought aside. She hadn’t had a vivid memory of the accident for months.

Must have been Joe and his reckless good looks. And all that talk about horses.

Rebecca forced her thoughts down other paths, concentrated on her breathing, tried to relax. When her control returned, she slowly turned to her work, picking up the next piece of paper—a copy of a long-term promissory note. She read over the terms, frowning in her attempt to focus on her job.

She only had a few days to familiarize herself with the files in her care. She was determined to show fellow workers that she got this job based on training and experience, not because her brother-in-law was the bank manager.

The phone rang, and Rebecca picked it up.

“Hi, Becks, how’s it going?”

“Fine, Jenna.” Rebecca grimaced at her sister’s use of a name that no one except her family used anymore. “I had my first customer this morning.”

“Who?”

Rebecca twisted the cord of the phone around her finger as she glanced out the window again remembering bold eyes and an arrogant grin. “Joe Brewer.”

“You must be kidding.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Honey.” Jenna’s voice took on that patient older-sister tone that could still rub Rebecca the wrong way. “You stay away from anyone in this town with the last name of Brewer. They are nothing but trouble.” Jenna took another breath, and Rebecca sensed that a unwelcome sisterly lecture was coming on.

“Well, I think I scared him away,” Rebecca said, interrupting her. “He could hardly wait to get out of here.” Rebecca tapped a pen on her desk as she remembered how quickly Joe Brewer had left. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to see how things are going.”

Rebecca resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Dear Jenna meant well, but she was a tad overprotective. “Things are going fine. This is only my second day on the job, after all.”

“I know that. I was just thinking about you and thought I would give you a call.”

“That’s nice.” Rebecca closed the file folder in front of her and set it aside. “But I should be getting back to my job, Jen. I’ve got a stack of work ahead of me and only so much time to do it in.”

“You don’t have to make a good impression on your boss, Becks.”

“Having my brother-in-law as my manager shouldn’t make any difference to my work, Jenna,” Rebecca reminded her as she tucked the phone under her ear, and reached for a new file.

“I know, but don’t forget that you also came here to recuperate.” Jenna paused as if to let that sink in.

Rebecca shook her head, wet her finger and flipped open the file. “Look, I’ve really got to go, Jen. I’ll see you tonight.”

Jenna said her goodbyes, and Rebecca laid the phone on its cradle wondering if taking on this job in Wakely was a mistake.

But she knew she came here to get help reaching her goal. As she thought of the alternative—living at home with parents who hovered even more than Jenna—she decided she could probably handle her sister.

Joe leaned forward, arms resting on the steering wheel of his semi, his eyes staring sightlessly at the line of tractor-trailer units ahead of him at the weighing station. Not for the first time he winged up a prayer that his load would come underweight, and not over, as he suspected it was.

Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he bit his lip in frustration. He had a Super-B full of six-by-six lumber that had to go to a resaw mill in Penticton, and he didn’t want to look at his watch to see how late he was.

He pulled out the worn piece of paper that Dale had given him. Each time he thought about the choice between losing his plan to open a training arena or taking over the ranch that held absolutely no good memories for him, he felt almost ill. As he looked at the figure on the paper he remembered all too clearly Miss Rebecca Stevenson’s perfectly shaped eyebrow lifting oh so slightly when he refused their generous offer. He was still angry with Lane for maneuvering him into that awkward situation.

Joe folded the paper and set it in the folder on the seat beside him, wondering at the direction of his life. Trucking was the only thing he knew. He had started driving as an escape, a way to see the world.

Well, he hadn’t seen the world, he thought, staring sightlessly at the line of trucks ahead of him, but he’d seen enough of the highways of North America to realize that running from one end of the continent to the other had merely become a job. A way to save for other plans.

Spending lonely evenings hunched over the wheel of his semi, his world narrowed down to the beam of his headlights, then pulling over on an empty stretch of highway to eat truck-stop food and get some sleep was not how he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Lately he yearned for a home, for a certain comfort and routine in his life. The same routine he once scorned.

But what did he have?

Other than his acreage and a small mobile home, his only asset was his innate knowledge of horses. He had gotten started with the help of Allister McLure, one of the local vets.

Allister had fostered and encouraged Joe’s gift for working with horses. As an overworked and angry young man, Joe would periodically drop everything and go to the home of Allister and his wife, Lorna. It was Allister who showed him faith in action and Allister who showed him what a father’s love should be.

He got Joe started in horse training, recommending people he met in his practice to take their problem horses to Joe Brewer.

Every few months Joe would purchase a few unbroken one-year-olds from the auction mart and keep them, working with them when he had time and selling them for a decent profit once they were trained. It gave him extra money and established his growing reputation.

He began to dream of starting his own training facility. But until he had his own place, he couldn’t afford to quit trucking. And as long as he worked as a truck driver, he didn’t have time to expand the business.

He had lost more than he wanted to admit that afternoon in the bank.

He thought once again of Rebecca, allowing himself a moment to appreciate her delicate features, her calm demeanor that both pushed him away and intrigued him. He wished he had been a little more gracious around her. Not that it would have gotten him anywhere, he thought wryly. She was far beyond him. Besides, it looked as if Dale had staked a claim, and he was in a better position to maintain it than Joe was.

A blast from the air horn of an impatient driver behind him made him jump.

Joe put his idling truck into gear and with a chuff of brakes eased his unit forward, closing the gap between him and the truck on the scale. He couldn’t resist a quick glance at his watch, which showed him that he was well behind schedule. To get this load to Penticton on time would mean running the risk of a speeding ticket, which he could ill afford. He felt his stomach begin the all-too-familiar tightening as he tried to relax, tried to remind himself that rushing only caused accidents. But he also knew that if he didn’t get to the business on time, it would be closed, and he would have to find a spot to lay over, and that meant he would be late for his next pickup in Langley and…

He eased his truck to a halt to wait some more and forced himself not to think about the consequences. Break it down, he reminded himself. First get this truck weighed, then head out, then see what happens. But even as he went through the routine, he couldn’t stop his hands from clenching the steering wheel, his shoulders from hunching with tension, something he was doing more and more often.

Taking a deep breath, he dropped his head back. He closed his eyes. “Okay, Lord,” he said quietly, “I’m stuck at this weigh scale, and You know I get uptight when I’m behind. But I’m giving You the rest of this day. It’s Yours, and I’ll live with whatever comes my way.” As he quietly continued his prayer, he felt God’s peace wash over him.

Slowly his hands lost their grip, and his shoulders fell. He still had to get his load to Penticton on time, he still faced the possibility of an overload charge, but his tension eased. He had reached beyond the tiny confines of his truck and his life, and events were put into perspective.

Half an hour later, Joe was on the road. His load had come in just under. He was still late, but it didn’t matter as much as before.

With a quick jab of his finger, he turned on the radio. Immediately songs of heartbreak and sorrow wailed above the engine’s whine.

Joe slipped on his sunglasses. One song drifted into another as the pavement rolled along under his wheels, the dotted line clipping by, power poles slowly marking his progress. Joe couldn’t help but pull a face as he listened to the lyrics of yet another song about a lonely trucker far away from his family, trying to make a living. Given his current mood, the last thing he needed was to listen to some rich country and western singer making yet another million writing songs about the hard work and low pay Joe was trying to escape.

He hit the power button, cutting off the singer mid-sob, his mind mulling and worrying over his problems.

If he had to shelve his dream of setting up an arena, he still needed to find other work. But trucking and training horses were all he knew. The first gave him a job that earned money, and he had been counting heavily on the latter to help him get away.

He felt as if he was pushed into a corner he had been trying to escape, and he didn’t know how to get out.

Chapter Four

Joe rubbed his eyes as he leaned against the wall beside the phone at the truck stop, the receiver clamped against his ear. He had driven most of last night and needed sleep more than conversation.

“Hey, Tonya,” he said when his renter’s wife picked up the phone. “How are things?”

Joe stifled a groan as Tonya began her usual litany of complaints. Her nasal voice in one ear was a sharp counterpoint to the sparse hum of conversation inside the dimly lit café. “I know it’s not a palace, Tonya,” he said when she was done, “but it’s cheap.” Too cheap, he often thought. Kevin and Tonya lived there free and in return took care of Joe’s horses and boarded their own for nothing.

“Cheap doesn’t mean it has to be such a dive,” she complained.

Joe clenched his jaw, keeping his temper in check. Tonya squeezed in one more complaint then Kevin got on the phone.

“Hey, Kevin,” Joe said by way of greeting, stifling an urge to yawn. “Just called to see how things are going.”

“Well…” Kevin paused. “I… I need to tell you something.”

He sounded nervous. Joe knew he had to bide his time. Rushing Kevin only made him stutter.

“It’s your new horse, you remember her?”

As if Joe could forget. He had paid more for that two-year-old than he cared to admit to anyone. “Talia.”

“That’s the one.” Kevin sighed, and Joe felt a prickling of fear. “I accidentally put her in the same pen as Mack, and…” He let the sentence trail off.

“And they started fighting.” Joe finished the sentence, his throat suddenly dry. Please, Lord, don’t let it be too bad, he prayed. I know I paid too much for that horse, but You know why I did.

“Mack is okay, a few nicks and bruises on his chest, but Talia…” Kevin paused again, and Joe clenched his teeth in frustration. “She’s, well, she’s…”

“Is she dead?” Joe blurted, suddenly frightened.

“No, no.”

“But?”

“She tried to jump the fence and ripped open her left flank. It’s a bit of a mess.”

Joe sagged against the wall in relief, the sounds of the café drifting away as Kevin’s words registered. Talia was hurt, not dead. She’s just a horse, he reminded himself.

But even as the thought formed, he knew he was fooling himself. Talia was his stake, the beginning of a larger plan that was supposed to get him away from the wheel of a semi.

“McLure stitched her up,” Kevin continued.

Joe felt himself relax. Allister knew as much about horses as Joe did. And Allister would be the next person Joe would call.

Joe ran a hand over his face, weariness engulfing him. The smell of burned coffee had become nauseating. A sure signal that it was time to get some sleep, yet all he wanted to do was run to his truck and head home. “Where did you put her?”

“In the lean-to. McLure gave me some antibiotics that I have to give her with her feed.”

“Okay.” Joe yawned, his eyes bleary. He had to trust that Kevin would take care of Talia. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.” Joe placed the phone slowly in the cradle. He still held the receiver, biting his lip, wondering if it was too early to call Allister McLure.

And what would that accomplish? Joe was miles from home. He had to trust that Kevin would do what Allister told him to.

Jenna dropped onto the couch beside Rebecca, blowing out a breath in frustration. “How many drinks do little girls need before they can finally sleep?”

Rebecca glanced at her sister over her book, smiling. “I’m sure we weren’t much easier on Mother.”

“We had a nanny,” Jenna reminded Rebecca, tucking her feet under her. She ran her hand along the rough material of the hunter green couch. “We also had better furniture,” she murmured, pulling on a loose thread with a frown of displeasure.

“The couch looks fine, Jenna.”

Jenna leveled a patient look at her sister. “You don’t need to patronize me. I should have shopped around more when we bought this set, but Troy didn’t want to spend that much money. And now look at it.” Jenna wound the loose thread around her finger and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. “But there’s no way I can justify buying a different suite. Not when I’ve been hassling Troy about putting on a solarium.”

Jenna was never satisfied, Rebecca thought. The house was only five years old, but she had already added a fireplace to the family room and renovated Shannon and Amanda’s bedrooms and the upstairs bathroom. Now she wanted to add a solarium. Jenna didn’t want to face the fact that her biggest problem wasn’t the house. The problem was it wasn’t her parent’s house, which was much larger, fancier and more impressive. “This house is plenty big enough, Jenna.”

“I suppose,” Jenna replied looking around, her lips pursed. “I’m just used to more. It’s very hard to move down the economic food chain.” Jenna sighed. “I can’t believe you once considered becoming a phys ed instructor. They make even less than a bank manager does. You’d never have been satisfied.”

Rebecca said nothing at the unintended slight. Jenna still regarded her as the spoiled baby of the family who got more than Jenna did. “I did more than consider it, Jenna,” she said. “I got my degree, and I would have had a job if I hadn’t—” Rebecca pressed her lips together. Why was it still so hard to talk about the accident? To even casually mention the loss of her dreams that day.

“Oh, Becks. It must have been hard, I’m sure.” Jenna laid her hand on Rebecca’s shoulder in sympathy. “I still can’t believe Kyle just walked away.”

Rebecca could. Kyle felt guilty. He was the one who had lost his temper. He was the one who had gone after her on his horse. When he lost control, he was the one who escaped with only a bruised shoulder. It was Rebecca who had sustained the spinal injury.

Guilt kept him away. She was always thankful that her parents hadn’t taken their lawyer’s advice and sued. She wanted to put the whole episode behind her. Winning a court settlement wouldn’t repair her body. Her parents had more than enough money.

And she didn’t want to have to face Kyle and his abandonment.

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Jenna continued. “You’re here now, and I’m glad. Although I don’t know why you insist on working. You don’t have to, you know.”

“Yes, I do, Jenna. I’ve got that business degree Mom and Dad paid for. I can’t pay them back for my education degree, but at least I can do something. I was ready to climb the walls at home with Mother fussing and fretting and hovering over me.” Rebecca smiled at her sister, her book forgotten in her lap. “I like the work even if it’s not what I always wanted.”

“I never could understand why you liked sports as much as you did.” Jenna wrinkled her nose in distaste. “And Shannon is just like you. She’ll be involved in every sport possible, just like you were. I’m sure we’ll need to put in a swimming pool for her someday.”

“Honestly, Jenna. Aren’t you ever going to be satisfied with this house?”

Jenna withdrew her hand from her sister’s shoulder and looked around with a shrug. “I don’t know. I’m just wondering what it’s going to be like when Shannon and Amanda start having friends over. It seems like we use every square inch of space now. I can’t imagine what it will be like then.”

“It’ll be fine,” Rebecca replied. “Do you remember my friend Miriam? They weren’t rich, and they didn’t have a big house at all, but I loved going to their place.”

“Was she that girl who lived on the dairy farm?”

Rebecca nodded, smiling as she remembered breakfasts around a crowded table and noise and laughter. After breakfast there were chores. It didn’t matter who was there—everyone pitched in. “What I remember best of Miriam’s place was the space and room outside. Mom and Dad had a huge house in Calgary, but I always felt closed in there. I never felt that way at Miriam’s place. I always said that when I grew up, I wanted to live on a place like that.”

Jenna punched Rebecca’s shoulder lightly. “You’re such a romantic, Rebecca. I’m sure you didn’t get to see Miriam’s parents burning the midnight oil trying to figure out how to make the money stretch to buy enough food and clothes for that brood of kids.” Jenna let her hand rest on her sister’s shoulder. “You’ve never had to be on your own, so you don’t know how hard it is to scrimp. Take my advice, girl. Marry someone who can keep you in the style to which you are accustomed. Now, more than ever, you have to be choosy about who you marry.”

Rebecca bristled at her condescending tone, quite sure she was alluding to Rebecca’s limp. It annoyed her that her family saw her as helpless and spoiled. Her sister was no better than her parents in thinking that she would cave if she wasn’t dressed in designer outfits or nibbling on gourmet chocolates. Truth was, Rebecca couldn’t care less, but no one seemed to get it.

“And how is working with Dale?” Jenna continued.

Rebecca had wondered when Jenna would bring that up. “He wants to take me out this weekend,” she said absently, her eyes skimming over the words to find her place.

“I’ll bet he takes you to the Palliser. I loved that hotel,” she said wistfully. “Troy and I haven’t been there since our third anniversary.”

Rebecca had never cared much about where they ate and who they ate with, she thought, noting the faraway look in Jenna’s eye. Food was food, she figured. Lobster thermidor or a burger at a fast-food restaurant served the same purpose. They filled you up.

“I’ll let you know when he tells me,” Rebecca said absently, looking at her book. She couldn’t get into the story, but by pretending to read, she forestalled Jenna’s other questions. She didn’t want to dissect every nuance of Dale’s very short phone conversation, nor did she want to talk about what she should wear. Rebecca had more important things on her mind right now. She was still waiting to hear from the high school in Edmonton about her job application for phys ed instructor. She had applied quite soon after her accident, figuring that hard work would get her mobile in spite of what the doctors said. She had the knowledge, and at one time she had the skills. She just lacked the physical prowess. But that would come, she figured. Heather had given her a series of exercises to do that were more challenging. She was enjoying her job, working with people she would see in the grocery store after work or in church on Sunday.

She felt as if she was finally moving in a positive direction.

A date with Dale came somewhere toward the bottom of her list of priorities. She didn’t even stop to wonder if that had more to do with her high hopes of pursuing her teaching career—or her tepid feelings about Dale.

Chapter Five

“Swelling has increased, especially around the stitches.” Allister gently touched the leg, and the horse shied away. Joe stroked Talia’s nose, holding the halter rope while Kevin hung on the fence of the outdoor pen watching them. “Have you been giving her the antibiotics?” Allister asked.

“Kevin?” Joe asked, looking at his renter. “Have you?”

Kevin chewed his lip as if contemplating the answer. “Well…” He hesitated, looking away from both of them. “She didn’t always eat all her feed, and the pills would be on the bottom of the pail. When I tried to feed them to her, she’d let them fall out of her mouth.” He scratched his head, still looking away. “You said not to force her, Joe. You said to go easy with her.”

“Did you try grinding the pills up?” Dr. McLure straightened, brushing the horse hair from his hands.

Kevin shrugged. “Not always.”

“That’s why she wasn’t eating them.” Allister exchanged an exasperated look with Joe, and Joe felt immediately guilty.

Talia threw her head and snorted, and Joe pulled his attention to his horse, holding his rising anger at himself and his renter. Kevin had worked with Joe’s horses for the past six months. And in the past two, Joe could see with each trip home that the horses weren’t as well taken care of as they should be. He knew Allister could see it, too.

He had let it go too long, but what alternative did he have? Finding renters willing to take care of his horses was difficult. He thought he had neatly solved his problems with Kevin. From the looks of Talia’s leg, his solution had created more problems than it had solved.

“I’m gong to give you some more pills,” Dr. McLure said to Kevin. “This time make sure you crush them really fine and mix them thoroughly through her grain ration. Make sure you don’t give her too much grain, as well,” he warned as he stepped back from Talia. He looked at Joe. “I’ll have to give her a shot for now. It’ll get into her system quicker than the pills.”