The Cowboy and the Girl in the Hot Pink Chaps Read online

“You ready, Dusty?”

  Startled, she spun around and saw her trainer striding towards her. Patrick O’Neal was an anomaly. He was gay, he was Irish, and a former show jumper who had unexpectedly traded in his crash helmet for a cowboy hat.

  At the beginning of the summer show season, Patrick’s practiced eye told him Dusty and Licorice were going to excel in the months ahead, and when his assistant unexpectedly quit, he’d offered Dusty the job.

  It was a significant feather in her cap, and Dusty had been thrilled. Not only would she have a stipend and free training, Patrick’s belief did wonders for her confidence. His instincts proved correct. Dusty was ending the season as the winner of her division.

  “Yes, on my way,” she replied jogging up to him.

  “Last class of the show for you, and the most important. I know you already have the division title in the bag, but you want to end with a win. How are you feeling?”

  “Great. My only competition is Trixie Davenport, but I’ll beat her. I’ll vibe her out.”

  “Those hot pink chaps would vibe anyone out,” he winked. “I think Licorice gallops as fast as he does because he thinks a pink monster is chasing him.”

  “Stop,” she laughed, “that’s not true. Licorice is fast because Licorice is fast.”

  The first paycheck she’d received from Patrick had been spent on the custom chaps. It had been an impetuous act, something she’d done on a whim. When she’d got them home, put them on and stared at her reflection, she wondered if she’d ever be brave enough to wear them. It was just a couple of weeks later that her old, brown suede chaps fell apart, and she’d zipped herself into the new ones.

  From the first ride they were exceptionally comfortable, almost like a second skin. Having no alternative she had to wear them to the horse shows, and something unexpected happened; guys began to notice her, and she liked it.

  As a young awkward teenager, she’d been skinny, had thin, short, mousey brown hair, wore braces, and was almost blind without her thick, coke-bottle glasses. The barn had been her sanctuary.

  The horses didn’t care how she looked, or that she was ungainly and shy. They only cared that she doted on them, brought them treats, and happily, endlessly, rubbed their necks and scratched their ears. They’d nicker when she walked down the barn aisle, trot up to her when she entered their paddocks, and there was no question that she was going to make horses her future profession. Doing what, she didn’t know, but it was a given.

  Before she started college the braces came off, and in her junior year she underwent Lasik eye surgery. With her teeth stunningly perfect, no glasses perched on her nose, and her figure suddenly blooming, she decided it was time to address the hair she’d always hated. Using over-the-counter hair lighteners, the mousey color changed to honey blonde, and she let it grow. Overnight she was looking at a different girl in the mirror, and she found herself facing life with a growing confidence and poise

  As she hurried back to the barn with Patrick, she pulled her mind away from Matt, and focused on the event ahead.

  “Please tell me the groom remembered to put the pink polo’s on Licorice, and not the white ones.”

  “Oh, he knows,” Patrick assured her. “After the way you told him off, he wouldn’t dare forget.”

  Polos were the bandages riders wrapped around their horse’s legs for protection, and were available in a rainbow of colors.

  “Told him off? I love your expressions,” she giggled.

  “Jump on and I’ll meet you in the warm-up ring.”

  Though they had reached the barn, she couldn’t resist once last look across the grounds at the trailer. The trucks were still parked outside.

  This is so weird. Almost six weeks and there wasn’t a sign of you, and you show up just when I’m about to ride in my most important class. No, I don’t have to win, but I want to. I need my last event to be a win. I want to go to the State finals with it under my belt.

  Even when Dusty had been shy and awkward, on a horse she’d come alive and be fiercely competitive. Walking up to Licorice waiting patiently to be saddled, his black coat glistening, she lovingly stroked his neck and gazed into his deep brown eyes.

  “We’re going to blow everyone out of the water today,” she said softly. “Anyone who’s watching is going to drop their jaw. Right big fella?”

  As her horse snorted and brushed his head against her, she sank against his neck.

  “Lickety split. That’s what Patrick calls us, and that’s what we have to be today, and we will be.”

  As she walked around to his opposite side, she spotted the back of Trixie Davenport a short distance away.

  Trixie Davenport was her nemesis. The girl came from a wealthy family, and had several horses, all of them worth a mint.

  Dusty had found Licorice wasting away in a backyard, and had persuaded her parents to let her knock on the door of the house and see if he was for sale. Two days later, she and Patrick had driven up and hauled him away.

  She’d done everything herself. Cleaned up his manure twice a day, bought secondhand blankets for the winter, and found the best supplements she could afford to help rehabilitate him. The months passed and her care began to show, and though his transformation continued, it never occurred to her, or to anyone else, that the horse would possess such remarkable athletic ability.

  Dusty didn’t think much of Trixie’s riding ability, but the girl had an outstanding mount called Harrison Hare. If there was a horse that could beat Licorice, it would be Harrison.

  Moving quietly across the barn aisle, Dusty stood behind the tack room, placing herself just a few feet from Trixie, but out of sight.

  “No, I’m not worried about Trixie,” Dusty said as if having a conversation. “She doesn’t lean far over when she starts around the second barrel. It interferes with her horse, that’s why she loses time,” then silently giggling, she walked inside to pick up her saddle.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Waiting in the short tunnel that led into the arena, Licorice was jigging, fired up and ready to race. Just as keyed up, Dusty could feel the adrenalin pumping through her veins. She loved this part, the few seconds before they bolted forward. Every nerve in her body was sparking.

  Dusty had been stunned at the speed and agility Licorice had shown when she’d started his training. He was so quick, and so athletic, she often wondered how he’d ended up wasting away in a backyard.

  Waiting for the cue to charge forward, she reminded herself to stay centered and calm. She’d learned to restrain herself from pushing too hard, and knew if she left him alone to do his job, it would result in a top performance.

  The call came, and he shot forward, bursting into the arena. Flying around the first barrel he charged to the second, but cut it so close she had a fleeting moment of panic. Coming out of the super-sharp turn he surged to the last, and when he curled his body around it and exploded for home, she knew they had clocked an incredibly fast time. As they slowed down in the exit tunnel, the cheering of the crowd reached her ears.

  “Unbelievable,” Patrick declared running to meet her and grabbing the reins. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

  Jumping from the saddle she let out a triumphant cry as she hugged her horse, telling him what a brilliant boy he was.

  “Trixie’s up soon,” Patrick reminded her.

  “I know. Are she and Bill here yet? I’ll bet that gave them something to think about.”

  Bill was Trixie’s trainer. Dusty knew he’d be ticked off, and her fast run would have unnerved her opponent.

  “They’re lurking around somewhere,”

  “It would be fun to see their faces right now,” she giggled, “and I have a feeling Trixie’s going to try just a bit too hard when she’s out there.”

  “Dusty,” he said, dropping his voice and giving her a knowing look. “What have you done?”

  “I haven’t done anything,” she said innocently.

  “I’ve told you before what we did back in Irel
and to wicked girls who pulled dirty tricks. We’d swat their bottoms. I also warned you the last time you pulled a stunt, that’s exactly what would happen to you if you did it again, and I meant it.”

  “Patrick,” she groaned rolling her eyes.

  “I’m serious. I know how competitive you are, and how badly you want to win, but-”

  “I’ll win because I have the best horse and I’m the best rider,” she interrupted. “Now I’m going to walk him out, but I’ll be back in time to see Trixie’s run.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry,” he said, wondering if he’d mistaken the mischievous look in her eye. “That was a brilliant time.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried, not a bit,” she laughed.

  Watching from the sidelines, Matt, Pete and Bob had been spellbound. The pink polo wraps against the horse’s black legs, along with Dusty’s hot pink chaps and her blonde hair flying out from under her cowboy hat, had created a stunning visual, and the speed of her horse was jaw-dropping.

  “That was a helluva ride,” Pete mumbled.

  “Talk about settin’ a bar,” Bob agreed. “What did you think, Matt?”

  “I think that’s about as good as it gets,” he declared. “What was that name the announcer called? Dusty what?”

  “I think they said Anderson,” Pete replied.

  “Huh, Dusty Anderson. That name rings a vague bell,” he muttered. “Anderson. Common enough I expect. Well, Jinx, I guess we’d better be gettin’ back to the office.”

  “You’re not gonna stay and see who wins?” Bob asked.

  “I think that’s a given,” Matt chuckled. “How many more are there?”

  “Just a handful.”

  “Yeah, sure, may as well,” Matt nodded, “and now that I think about it, maybe I should offer to award the prize.”

  “Do it,” Bob said enthusiastically. “It’ll give us an excuse to meet her.”

  “Yeah, for sure, do it,” Pete agreed.

  “Yep, I think I will,” Matt grinned. “Come on, Jinx, let’s go see the ring manager.”

  “Wait. Trixie Davenport’s up next,” Bob declared. “She’s the next best. If anyone can beat Miss Hot Pink Chaps, it’s her.”

  “Davenport, as in, Davenport Steel?”

  “Yep, that’s the one,” Bob replied. “She has real expensive horses. She’s one of my sales from this show.”

  “Huh. Okay. Let’s see how she does.”

  When Trixie Davenport erupted into the ring, she looked quick rounding the first barrel, but when she started around the second she leaned sideways, almost like a motorcycle rider, and there was a brief moment when it looked dangerously precarious. As she sped off to the third it was obvious she’d lost valuable seconds. When her time was posted she’d landed in a disappointing fourth position.

  In the rear of the starting tunnel, Patrick noticed Dusty had returned without Licorice, and was loitering in the shadows behind Trixie’s trainer. As Trixie breathlessly dropped from her horse and handed the reins to a groom, she put her hands on her hips and stared at the ground, kicking the dirt. It was obvious she was upset, and Patrick could almost hear her silent cursing.

  “What were you doin’ with your body?” Bill demanded. “You were leanin’ so far over that second barrel you could’ve got him off balance.”

  “Just trying to make my time faster,” Trixie replied.

  “Who told you to do that?”

  “Uh, no-one, I just kind of felt it,” she muttered.

  Glancing across at Dusty, Patrick saw her slink away, and immediately started off after her. He’d been right.

  I don’t know how she did it, but I’m going to find out. She was behind that girl’s bad ride, I’m sure of it.

  “Hey, Dusty, you ready to go in and bask in your glory?” Patrick asked catching up to her.

  “Oh, hi, yes, of course. I’m absolutely thrilled. I’m just off to get Licorice.”

  “Anything you want to tell me?” he pressed.

  “Like what?”

  “Like, would you have any idea why Trixie was leaning so badly around that second barrel?”

  “Why would I?” she frowned.

  “One of these days…”

  “One of these days, what?”

  “You’ll get your comeuppance.”

  “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

  “You and I are going to have a serious talk before you leave today. Hurry up and get Licorice. You have to go in.”

  A short time later her name was announced as show champion for her division, and with the crowd cheering she jogged in with her gleaming black gelding trotting along next to her, but to her shock, Matt was standing in the ring waiting to present her prize.

  What the hell is he doing there? Okay, stay calm, just stay calm.

  Matt watched the sparkling young woman break to a walk, but when her bright blue eyes caught his, he felt a strange rolling in his stomach.

  Why do I feel as if I know her? Surely I’d remember her. Dusty Anderson. Anderson. Why do I know that name?

  “Great ride, Dusty,” the ring manager declared pulling her eyes away from Matt. “Let’s get a photo of you accepting the trophy and check from Mr. Montgomery here.”

  “Uh, sure,” she replied.

  “Matt, this is Dusty Anderson.”

  “Hi, good to meet you,” Matt smiled. “That was a great ride. Never seen it done better.”

  Stomach churning, she turned her gaze back to him.

  “Thanks. It was a great ride because I’ve got a great horse,” she said slowly. “That’s the thing about horses. They’re honest and loyal, and you can depend on them. Did you know they have incredible memories? They never forget a friend, never.”

  “Uh, right,” he nodded, and why are you looking at me like that? “Anyway, uh, here’s your trophy and check, and congratulations.”

  A photographer stepped forward, snapped some pictures, and the small group began to break up, but Pete and Bob, who had been taking care of Jinx and watching from the tunnel, had grown impatient. It was a golden opportunity to meet the girl in the hot pink chaps, and they weren’t going to let it slip through their fingers.

  As they jogged into the arena, Jinx bounded ahead of them, but he didn’t run to Matt, he made a beeline for Dusty.

  “Huh, he really likes you,” Matt remarked as his border collie began whining and jumping on her.

  “I’ll take Licorice,” Patrick offered, stepping up and taking the reins.

  Truly thrilled to be petting him after so long, Dusty crouched down, making a fuss of the happy canine, and overjoyed to see his old friend, Jinx was beside himself.

  “If I didn’t know better I’d swear he knows you,” Matt declared. “He doesn’t take to strangers like that. I’ve never seen him act this way before.”

  “He’s a wonderful dog,” she muttered, “aren’t you, Jinxy, a wonderful dog.”

  Watching them, a frown crept across Matt’s face.

  Jinxy? Who was it who used to call him that?

  “Hey, I really enjoyed your ride,” Pete chimed in.

  “Yeah, me too,” Bob added. “Fantastic.”

  “Thanks, well, time for me to go,” she said standing up. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Montgomery,” she added formally, and turning away began striding towards the gate.

  There were people everywhere. The show staff were setting up for the next class, and gripping her trophy and check, her heart pounding, she hurried past them. Tears were brimming behind her eyes, her head was starting to pound, and unable to stand it another minute she pushed through the door of the ladies room.

  “Holy crap,” she breathed, dropping her face in her free hand and leaning against the wall.

  “What do you have to complain about?”

  Lifting her head she saw Trixie Davenport standing by the wash basins.

  “What you did wasn’t cool,” the dark-haired girl spat.

  With no energy left to play dumb, Dusty glared back a
t her.

  “Hey, if you don’t know how to ride, you’ve only got yourself to blame. You shouldn’t even be in 1D, it’s out of your league.”

  “The hell with you. I do know how to ride.”

  “No, you don’t,” Dusty shot back. “All you know how to do is sit on an expensive horse, hang on, and kick the shit out of it to make it go faster. Would you like that? Would you like someone wailing into your ribs? You’re a horrible rider, and you don’t deserve a goddamned thing. The only animal you should be allowed to sit on is a pack mule.”

  “Jeez, what’s wrong with you?” Trixie frowned, stunned by Dusty’s unexpected outburst. “Go take a chill pill.”

  Fighting tears, Dusty lowered her eyes as the girl walked past her and made a hasty exit out the door. Finally alone, she moved across to the wash basins and stared into the mirror.

  I knew it. I knew he wouldn’t remember me. All those times I said hello, all those times I gave Jinx treats and made such a fuss of him I was completely invisible. I shouldn’t be so angry, I know I looked completely different back then, but I can’t help it. This was such a great win. I should be ecstatic. Licorice and my riding, that’s all I should be thinking about. Okay, that’s it, I’m fine. I’m done with this crap. I have to go and show Auntie Sharon my trophy. Screw him, screw them all.

  Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she opened the door and headed off towards the barn. Being with Licorice, grooming him, making sure he was okay, that would calm her, then she’d go to the trailer and see her aunt.

  “Dusty?”

  Her gaze had been on nothing. She’d simply been putting one foot in front of the other, and hadn’t spotted Matt leaning against the wall ahead, Jinx at his side.

  “Sorry, what?” she frowned looking towards the voice. Matt? No! Seriously? Not again! Please, dear God!

  “Hi,” he smiled. “I just wondered if you’d like to have some coffee, or maybe lunch sometime?”

  “You can’t be serious?” she glowered.

  “Uh, have I offended you?” Matt asked, completely baffled by her reaction.

  “Offended me? You’re asking if you’ve offended me?”

  “Easy there,” he said lifting his palm in a gesture of surrender as he slowly moved towards her. “If I have, please tell me. Let me make it up to you.”