COOL HAND HANK
KATHLEEN EAGLE
A COWBOY’S
REDEMPTION
JEANNIE WATT
COOL HAND HANK
KATHLEEN EAGLE
About the Author
KATHLEEN EAGLE published her first book, a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award winner, in 1984. Since then she has published more than forty books, including historical and contemporary, series and singletitle, earning her nearly every award in the industry. Her books have consistently appeared on regional and national bestseller lists, including the USA TODAY list and the New York Times extended bestseller list.
Kathleen lives in Minnesota with her husband, who is Lakota sioux. they have three grown children and three lively grandchildren.
Dear Reader,
A warm welcome back to the Double D Wild Horse Sanctuary!
When I started writing One Cowboy, One Christmas I had no idea that sally Drexler was going to be such a strong character that she would demand her own book. But what a strong woman she turned out to be. Nothing will stop Sally from living her life to the fullest. She has a wonderful sense of humour, is completely committed to the wild horses that have taken over the Double D Ranch, and she loves fiercely. She has learned to live in the moment because she can’t be sure how she’ll feel tomorrow. She’s thrilled that her sister has found a love to last a lifetime, but she has no thought of discovering that kind of joy for herself.
Enter Hank Night Horse. Hank is a private man, one who has suffered losses of his own. He’s a horseman, a healer, a man who gives without expecting — without even wanting much in return. Hank is my kind of hero. He’s strong, complex, protective (particularly of his own heart), and oh so cool.
If you’re a horse lover like me, check out the Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary on line. Douglas O. Hyde founded the program in 1988, and it is the inspiration for the Double D Wild Horse Sanctuary.
Now, come with me to a place where wildness reigns and love conquers all.
All my best, always,
Kathleen
For my nieces and nephews
and to honor the memory
of phyllis Eagle McKee
Chapter One
Hank Night Horse believed in minding his own business except when something better crossed his path. A naked woman was something better.
Technically, Hank was crossing her path. He was about to step out of the trees onto the lakeshore, and she was rising out of the lake onto the far end of the dock, but the breathtaking sight of her made her his business. She was as bold and beautiful as all outdoors, and she was making herself at home. Maybe she hadn’t noticed the moonrise, couldn’t tell how its white light made her skin gleam like a beacon on the water.
At his side, Phoebe saw her, too, but she knew better than to give their position away without a signal. With all that skin showing, the woman looked edible. Phoebe was trying to decide whether to point or pounce. Hank knew his dog. He couldn’t help smiling as the woman turned to reach for a towel hanging over a piling. She was slender but womanly, with a long, sleek back and a sweet little ass. If he moved, if he made the slightest sound, he would kill a perfect moment. It would be a shame to see her…
…stumble, flail, go down on one knee. From graceful to gawky in the blink of an eye, the woman plunged headlong into the lake without a sound issuing from her throat. Hank was stunned.
Phoebe took off like a shot, and their cover was blown.
Fall back, regroup, find new cover.
She had the water, and he had the dog. Excuse my dog. She has no manners. And the woman…
…should have surfaced by now. Maybe the water had her.
Phoebe was paddling to beat hell. Hank skittered sideways down the pine-needle-strewn path until his boots hit the dock, reminding him that whatever he was about to do, the boots had to go.
And then what? He was a man of many talents, but swimming wasn’t one of them. If the adoption people had told him Phoebe lived for the water, he would have walked right past her and taken the Chihuahua in the next cage. Instead, he’d saddled himself with a big yellow bitch who thought she was a seal. Or a dolphin. Dolphins could rescue swimmers, couldn’t they?
Dive, baby, dive.
Swish! The woman’s head broke the water’s surface like a popped cork. Phoebe paddled in a circle around her, yapping exuberantly as though she’d scared up some game.
The woman spat a water-filled “Damn!” toward the open lake as Phoebe circled in front of her. “Hey! Where’d you come from?”
“She’s with me.” The water sprite whirled in Hank’s direction. “You okay?”
“Fine. Where did you come from?”
Hank jerked his chin toward his shoulder and the pine woods behind his back. “My dog—Phoebe, get over here—my dog thought I shot you.”
The woman laughed. A quick, unexpected burst of pure glee, which Phoebe echoed, adding gruff bass to bright brass.
“Are you coming in, too?”
He hadn’t thought it through. Hadn’t even realized he was sitting at the end of the dock with one boot half off. “Not if I don’t have to. It looked like you fell.”
“I did.” Eyeing him merrily, she pushed herself closer with one smooth breast stroke. Her pale body glimmered beneath the rippling water. “I have fins for arms and two left feet that want to be part of a tail.” She looked over at the dog paddling alongside her. “I’m not dead in the water. Sorry, Phoebe.”
“She thought you were flapping your wings. If you really had fins, she wouldn’t've bothered.”
“But you would have?”
He pulled his boot back on. “The way you went down, I thought you’d had a heart attack or something.”
“Klutz attack.” She bobbed in place now, her arms stirring the water just beneath the surface. She made not going under look deceptively easy. “The water’s fine once you get used to it. Now that I’m back in I wouldn’t mind company.”
“You’ve got some.” He glanced straight down. Booted feet dangled over dark water. Damn. He felt like he was the one caught with his pants down. Had to get up now. He’d recover his dignity once he had something solid underfoot. Needed something to hang on to, and words were all he had. Keep talking. “That dog won’t hunt, but she sure loves to swim.”
“And you?”
He scooted toward the piling. “I’m not givin’ up the best seat in the house.” Until I can grab that post.
“So you’re one of those guys who’d rather look than leap.”
“I’m one of those guys who’d rather watch than drown.”
There was that laugh again, warm and husky, like an instrument played well and often. “And you were going to save me exactly how?”
“By throwin’ you a life boot.” He smiled,