Jessie saw the little boy slip into the corral before anyone else did. For cripes’ sake, Jessie said silently, adding a litany of choice words as she raced after him, her knee throbbing with every pounding step. The corral was home to two geldings and a mare pacing nervously.
“Alex!” the little boy’s mother screamed when the gelding trotted by him. Jessie couldn’t waste her time or her breath to tell the silly woman to keep quiet. Instead, she focused on Alex as he stumbled through the uneven dirt, agitating the horses into snorting, then lashing the air with their hooves way too close to Alex’s head.
He could have been her son; others had said so when he first came to the program. Her heart clenched every time she heard it. Alex’s warm caramel curls were streaked blond from the sun, and his eyes tilted just a little at the corners, like hers.
The horses’ hooves pounded faster as she made her way across the dusty corral. She had to get him out. Now.
“Alex, sweetie,” Jessie said softly but firmly once she was beside him. She knew her height could be overwhelming for a little guy, so she squatted next to him. Her knee popped and cracked. Years of rodeo trick riding had left her two legacies: enough money to open Hope’s Ride and battered joints. “Come on, Alex. Let’s go see Mommy.”
“No,” the little boy said with a shake of his head.
“I know you want to ride the horses, sweetie, but it’s time for you to go home. The horses need a nap,” Jessie said.
The scuffling of hooves and the wet snorts increased in pace. Even with her experience, Jessie wouldn’t be able to stop them if they got themselves into a full-out panic. She considered just grabbing Alex and running. Problem—she and running had parted ways years ago, exactly when her knee had been torn up to heck and back.
But, then, Alex suddenly took a few unsteady steps and fell. Small for his age from years of surgeries and his disease, he was at Hope’s Ride to strengthen his muscles and build his confidence. Jessie scooted forward while he righted himself to sit in the dirt, tears streaking his dusty face. She wanted to pick him up, but she knew that his manly pride-in-the-making had been bruised from his fall. Coddling from her or anyone else would lead to a full-out kicking, screaming fit. The horses paced faster, tossing their heads with agitation.
“You can give Molly her treat if you come with me now,” Jessie said, keeping her voice gentle, despite every instinct that told her to get moving. “Molly likes you best, you know. I bet she’s hoping right now that you’re the one bringing her the apple today.” Molly, Jessie’s childhood pony, had two speeds—slow and slower—making her a perfect introduction to riding for children who were reluctant to approach the large horses.
“Okay. I like Molly,” Alex said. “She gives me kisses.” He got up but didn’t move. This meant that he was willing to have help. Jessie stood, too, ignoring her protesting knee.
“Great. How about I carry you back to the fence? That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” Jessie asked as she leaned down. He reached up.
She heard an increase in the snorts and pounding of hooves as the threesome rushed by. She knew that they’d stampede in seconds. The corral fence was fifteen or twenty feet away. Even if she could run, moving like that would just add to the horses’ agitation. With the big animals taking their cues from the humans around them, Jessie saw the disastrous day taking a ninety-degree turn for the worse when Alex’s mom crawled between the rails of the fence.
The woman started running, yelling and waving her arms. The idiot, Jessie thought, just as she heard the thunder of hooves coming closer and caught the glimpse of a tall man moving smoothly and surely through the fence.
The horses went into a galloping panic. Jessie stood still to create a patch of calm.
“Mommy,” Alex yelled. He wiggled against her side where he clung, drumming his dangling feet hard enough against her thigh that she loosened her grip for a moment. He broke away. She saw the gelding, Dickie, bearing down on them, his hooves huge and his eyes rimmed in white. Jessie reached out—thank God she was close enough to nab Alex. In the same motion, she folded him under her as the gelding raced over them. The large horse instinctively lifted himself to jump over the obstacle in his path. Jessie braced herself for the smack of a hoof, but Dickie had cleared them. She didn’t move. She had to protect the boy.
“Jessie, get the hell out of here,” said a familiar deep voice from behind her, followed by a strong grip on her forearm lifting her up. She scrambled to curl over and protect the little boy. Payson, her ex-husband, kept his grip on her, while Alex’s mother, who’d been pulled to the other side of the fence, was being held in place by program volunteers.
“Alex,” she said, working to break free, as panicked as the horses. She had to keep him safe. It was her job. Her responsibility.
“I’ve got him,” Payson said, easily lifting the child with his other hand. He tucked Alex under his arm. Dickie passed by again, but this time he gave them plenty of space, and the other horses were now being calmed by ranch hands.
Taller than her by a hand span, Payson moved quickly as he carried Alex and dragged her behind him, toward Alex’s mother, who openly cried. He had them out of the corral before Jessie could catch her breath. He ignored her as he turned to Alex, running his strong, lean surgeon’s hands expertly over him. It’d always amazed Jessie that Payson never intimidated children with his height. Could be his controlled calmness made them feel safe. When he was younger, his buttoned-up veneer had screamed prep school, but she’d always loved the dark intensity of his gaze, even when it reminded her of a big bad wolf eying a juicy jackrabbit.
Back in their day, when she’d see that look, she had to fight the urge to rip off her clothes and get him belly to belly in bed. And whenever she’d given in, once those starched and pressed clothes were off, she’d explored every inch of his tautly muscled body, one that always surprised her by being more cowboy than egghead. But that was back when she was young and didn’t know the difference between lust and love. A few years of living with Payson had finally taught her the yawning gap between the two.
Alex would be fine with him. Payson’s talent for healing children was the only reason he was here. Jessie would suck it up and court him to gain his hospital’s stamp of approval for her program. Once she had that, then she’d get a steady stream of patients who would make Hope’s Ride a paying operation. Right now, her dream of helping youngsters drained her savings account more and more each month.
Jessie turned away from the man and the memories. She needed to check on the horses and the other children. She also needed a few minutes to give her heart a chance to stop racing and to find a private place to have a cry.
* * *
USUALLY PAYSON STAYED focused when he was working with patients but not