Her Rodeo Hero

TOUGH LOVE

Colton Reynolds can tame the wildest of stallions, so how can working with Natalie Goodman be this hard? Colt tries to keep his distance while helping the former equestrian champion overcome a serious injury, but her feisty spirit and tender heart prove to be an irresistible combination.

Natalie knows that beneath his surly demeanor, Colt is haunted by his past and his time serving as an Army Ranger. He believes he’s too scarred to love...or be loved. But she won’t give up easily. Just as Colt is determined to help her find her way back into the ring, Natalie is doing everything she can to find a way into his heart.

ALSO INCLUDED IN THIS VOLUME

A Home for Christmas by Laura Marie Altom

“I had nothing left.”

Natalie took a deep breath for courage and looked Colt in the eyes.

“When I got out of the hospital I was up to my eyeballs in debt and barely able to walk.” Just talking about it brought it all back. The fear. The sorrow. The hopelessness. “And then I went out to the barn to see Playboy. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my head in his mane and I knew that somehow, someway, I’d ride him again.”

She felt the familiar burn of tears in her eyes. He started to move past her again, but Natalie snatched his hand and tugged him toward her, silently begging him to understand with her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she admitted, holding his gaze. “I don’t expect you to understand...” She squeezed his hand and then turned to leave. But something changed.

One moment he was immovable, cold. The next he’d pulled her up against him and dipped his head down toward her.

With his thumb, he brushed away a stray tear on her cheek. “I do understand.”

Dear Reader,

It’s no secret I love horses. As a child I used to read books by Marguerite Henry, gobbling up tales of Misty and Stormy and Justin Morgan. I firmly believe reading provided early training for my career as an author.

I can’t tell you how proud I am to be a writer. It’s a dream job for someone like me—someone who loves to read. I call myself the author of grown-up girl horse stories. Each one of my books features the animals I love. Sometimes those stories are light on horses, sometimes they feature more prominently.

Her Rodeo Hero is one of my personal favorites. Perhaps it’s because it’s not about horses as much as it’s about a woman who’s been injured by one and her fight to get back in the saddle. It’s also about a man with his own scars, one whose love of horses helps him to conquer inner demons and find a love of his own.

I hope you enjoy Her Rodeo Hero. I loved rereading it during the revision process, something that doesn’t happen as often as you might think. When it does, it’s usually a sign of a good book. I hope you think so, too. And I hope Marguerite Henry is proud.

Best,

Pam

With more than a million books in print, PAMELA BRITTON likes to call herself the best-known author nobody’s ever heard of. Of course, that changed thanks to a certain licensing agreement with that little racing organization known as NASCAR.

But before the glitz and glamour of NASCAR, Pamela wrote books that were frequently voted the best of the best by the Detroit Free Press, Barnes & Noble (two years in a row) and RT Book Reviews. She’s won numerous awards, including a National Readers’ Choice Award and a nomination for the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award.

When not writing books, Pamela is a reporter for a local newspaper. She’s also a columnist for the American Quarter Horse Journal.

In memory of Troy Parke, a man who embodied the word hero. The world lost an angel on earth when you passed away, Troy. You are missed.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Amazing.

Natalie Goodman watched from the grandstands, mouth slack, as Colton Reynolds stepped back from the black gelding, lifted his arms and gave the cue for his horse to rear one more time.

“See.” Jillian Thacker, one of Natalie’s best friends, leaned in toward her. She had to yell to be heard over the appreciative roar of the crowd around them. “What did we tell you?”

The gelding pawed at the air, mane flying like a royal banner, nostrils flaring. The horse was clearly listening to Colt’s commands—or did it watch for them? Natalie couldn’t tell.

The man in the arena seemed a mysterious figure in his black hat, black jeans and black shirt, a conjurer come to ply his trade with a magic wand. The only thing missing was a cape to complete the image. A day’s growth of razor stubble covered his square chin, but the rest of his face remained in shadow. Yet something about the man’s stance told Natalie all she needed to know, just like last time. She’d met him once before, at a wedding. She hadn’t been impressed. Today she couldn’t look away as she watched him lower his arms. The horse’s front feet returned to solid ground. The crowd that lined the rodeo arena went wild again.

“He’s the real deal, Natalie.” Jillian’s fiancé, Wes, tipped forward so he could peer around Jillian, his handsome face glowing with approval. “If you’re looking for someone to help train your horse, he’s your man.”

Train her horse. Because she couldn’t. Or shouldn’t. Doctor’s orders—no more horses. But Jillian and Wes didn’t know that; they thought she only needed help to learn a new sport. They had no idea she’d been forbidden to ride, period.

“The trouble is getting him to agree,” Wes added.

That didn’t surprise her. The time they’d met he’d been about as friendly as a stepped-on dog. That was before, back when she’d been one of the top riders in the country, slated to represent the United States in international competition. She’d had her whole career mapped out, and then... Bam! The wreck. The recovery. The restructuring of her life. She’d lost everything but her sense of determination.

She refused to think about that. Instead she focused on her surroundings inside the Arroyo Grande Rodeo Grounds. The sky had blossomed a deep blue this morning, and a few wisps of fog had floated through a field of bonnets. The crowd let out a gasp of surprise as Colt’s horse suddenly bowed, its nose touching the ground. Natalie hadn’t even seen the man give the command. Nor did she see him signal for the horse to get back up and then head toward an open trailer parked in the middle of the ring, one with Colt’s name emblazoned on the side along with the words Rodeo Misfits in an Old West–style font.

“I’ve seen him take some of our rescue horses and turn them completely around...” Jillian had to wait to finish because the crowd had erupted again when the black gelding climbed into the horse trailer without so much as a by-your-leave from Colt. “He’s a miracle worker.”

A year ago Natalie wouldn’t have believed that the day would come when she’d need help training a horse. A year ago she’d been riding high after winning a silver medal at the Pan American Games. A year ago she hadn’t been recovering from the worst riding accident of her career.

A lot could change in a year.

“Does he train professionally?” she heard herself ask.

Jillian’s black bob brushed her cheeks as she shook her head. “No.”

If Natalie didn’t miss her guess, her friend’s eyes lost some of their luster. “He’s a bit of a recluse, but Wes can bring him around.”

“You hope.”

“No. He will.” She smiled and clutched her fiancé’s forearm. Wes tipped back his straw cowboy hat and gave his wife-to-be a kiss, after which Jillian said, “Wes and Colt go back a long way.”

Natalie hated the thought of asking anyone for help, especially a reluctant someone, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Was that relief she spotted in her friend’s expression, too? She hated to admit it, but it probably was. Jillian had been present when she’d attempted to ride her horse without a bridle the first time, something that might seem crazy, but was actually an emerging sport. To say it hadn’t gone well was an understatement.

Down in the arena Colt waved to the crowd, the white bucking chutes behind him contrasting starkly against his black attire. Natalie thought the act was over, but she was wrong. Just as Colt went to swing the trailer door closed, the black horse came bolting out. She thought the animal had made a mistake, but something about the way Colt acted, the way he placed his hands on his hips and then shook his fist at the animal, told her that this, too, was part of his skit.

Sure enough, the animal came barreling back toward him, and the crowd gasped yet again when it seemed as if the horse might run him down. It didn’t. Instead the animal snatched a black handkerchief, something Natalie hadn’t spotted before, out of Colt’s back pocket and ran off with it. Colt spent the next few minutes making a big show of trying to get it back, much to the crowd’s amusement. Natalie continued to be amazed as the animal expertly played its part. Finally, Colt appeared to give up. He climbed into the driver’s seat of his truck, pretending to be so mad he’d decided to drive off with the trailer door still wide open. Natalie saw why a moment later. As he drove out of the ring, the black gelding followed, leapt for the open door, and then whipped around, still holding the black handkerchief. The horse waved it at the crowd as if saying goodbye.

“Amazing,” she heard herself say.

“He is.” Jillian and Wes applauded as loudly as the rest. Heck, even the cowboys who sat or stood behind the chutes gave him a hand. “Wes can go down and talk to him right now.”

Natalie stood up. “That’s okay.”

Jillian’s pretty green eyes dimmed. “Are you certain? Colt would never so no to Wes.”

She smiled tightly. “He won’t say no to me, either.”

* * *

DAMN SPURS. THEY ALWAYS seemed to hang up in the carpet of his truck, Colt thought. He’d nearly fallen on his ass when one of the rowels snagged a loop as he hopped out. He’d be glad when he could take them off. He never used the damn things anyway—they were all for show. Part of the act. Jeans, black chaps and black cowboy hat. City people seemed to expect that.

“Get on out of there, Teddy.”

The gelding stood just where he expected—at the back of the trailer, head hanging out, handkerchief still clasped in his mouth.

“Come on. Show’s over.”

He could swear Teddy understood, because the horse dropped the handkerchief, lowered his head to examine the ground before gingerly stepping out of the trailer—looking for all the world like a toddler exploring new surroundings for the first time—and came over to Colt. Soft puffs of breath emerged from the black muzzle as Teddy attempted to sniff out the treat he knew Colt would have stashed somewhere. Finding which pocket was part of the game, and it didn’t take the gelding long. Within seconds he was nuzzling Colt’s left hip, darn near knocking the halter Colt had hanging on his shoulder to the ground.

“Peppermint.” Colt reached into his pocket for the treat, unwrapped it, and offered it to the horse. “Your favorite.”

The gelding suckled the mint as if wanting to make it last. It made Colt smile. He fingered the wrapper, thinking back to the time when he couldn’t even get near the creature. That’d been two years ago and there’d been days when he’d been ready to throw in the towel, but he hadn’t given up. The horse wasn’t the only one with an abusive past. He understood more than most what it took to overcome that kind of adversity.

“We got you turned around sure enough, though, didn’t we?”

“You sure did.”

Colt looked past the horse and right into the eyes of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Scratch that.

He’d seen her before, at Zach and Mariah’s wedding, and he’d done a double take back then, too. He’d noted the blue, blue eyes. The heart-shaped face and wide lips. The only thing different was her thick blond hair. She’d cut it off. Still no makeup, though. Women as attractive as she was didn’t need anything to help them look better.

“You’re—”

“Natalie Goodman,” she finished for him with a small smile.

“That’s right.” It wasn’t like him not to look at a person directly, but for some reason he couldn’t maintain eye contact with this pretty blonde. “English trainer or something,” he said, slipping the halter on Teddy.

His friend Wes had mentioned her a few billion times. Wanted them to meet, thought they’d get along, yada yada yada. His friend didn’t understand. Beautiful or not. Animal lover or not. Smart or not. Colt wasn’t the relationship type. Never had been, never would be. His past was just too...messy. Military. Crazy dad. It’d all left a mark. Things never worked out, and that was okay. He didn’t need anybody or anything. Just his horses.

“Hunters and jumpers.”

He peeked back at her. She smiled even wider. He patted Teddy’s head. “Well, nice to see you again, Miss Natalie Goodman. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

With any luck, she’d leave. She didn’t. He glanced over at her again. Off-white shirt—peasant blouse, they called it—and skin tight jeans. Too good-looking for her own good. He didn’t think he’d made a good impression the first time they’d met, and judging by the way one side of her mouth lowered, he would bet he wasn’t earning any bonus points now.

He began tying Teddy to the trailer. “Something I can do for you, ma’am?”

“Actually, yes.” She forced the wattage of her smile back up a notch. “I need a favor.” But her grin was as precarious as a butterfly perched on the edge of a flower, and an instant later it slipped, that sweet face of hers rearranging itself into an expression of resignation. “Wes and Jillian suggested I talk to you.”

Colt could well imagine what was behind that suggestion, considering the number of times Wes had hinted at getting them together. He forced himself to look her full in the face.

“What kind of favor?”

“I need a horse trainer.”

He had to have misheard her. “Sorry?”

She took a step toward him and brushed her short hair over an ear, almost as if she’d forgotten for a moment that it wasn’t long anymore. “I need a trainer. Someone who can make horses do things I can’t.”

Teddy nudged him, almost knocking him over, reminding him that he’d been in the process of tending to the horse. Wasn’t like him to lose focus like that.

“Sorry, but I must be slow on the uptake. From what I’ve heard you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Horsewoman of the year. International fame. What could you possibly need me for?” He lifted a brow. “Thinking of chucking it all and starting your own rodeo company?”

The side of her mouth tipped upward again, the beginnings of a smile, a real smile, brightening her blue eyes. “Something like that.”

He finished tying up Teddy. He really didn’t have time to sit around and chat. He had to get on the road fairly quickly if he wanted to be up north before dark. He had a show in Sacramento tomorrow.

“So?” He bent to check one of Teddy’s front feet. “Do you have a problem horse or something?”

“I have a problem life.”

He set down Teddy’s foot. Join the club. “Okay, spill.”

Oddly, or maybe not so oddly since he made his living watching things closely, he found he could read her like a book. He spotted the way her desire to ask for help warred with her sense of independence. She didn’t really want to be there, standing in a parking area for rodeo competitors, talking to him.

“I’ve decided to take up a new discipline of riding.” The grin she wrestled onto her face didn’t seem to want to cooperate. “Freestyle reining, preferably without a bridle.”

He’d been about to cross to Teddy’s other side. Instead he froze and looked at her from beneath the angled brim of his cowboy hat. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope.”

“What—did jumping lose its appeal?”

She looked down to the ground, but not before he caught the subtle flinch. “I need a change.”

Need? Not want? “And you can’t make that change yourself.”

It wasn’t a question, more like an affirmation of facts, but she didn’t seem to like the words because her head swung up. “Reining seems pretty straightforward compared to what I used to do, but in order to be competitive, I need help. And riding my horse without a bridle isn’t coming along as quickly as I’d like. I need someone to tell me what I’m doing wrong. Shouldn’t take you more than a visit or two.”

“Why do you want to ride bridleless?”

She lifted her chin. “Because it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I want to master it.”

And he’d always wanted to fly jet planes. Didn’t mean it would happen. “That can’t be done in a visit or two. Teaching a horse to trust you, to listen to you out of love and not because you demand it, something like that takes time.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“But I’ve got a full schedule. This time of year, summer, is my busiest season. I’ll be lucky to be home three days this month.”

“Could you spend one of those days with me?”

He almost laughed. Did the woman not understand? He spent most of his life on the road. The last thing he needed was one more thing to do when he managed to get home. “Not without rearranging a lot of stuff.”

“Just one lesson.”

He shook his head. “I told you. One lesson won’t be enough.”

“Then two. I’ll pay you for your time.”

“Don’t you have enough to do with your jumping career?”

Direct hit. Disappointment poured from her eyes. Disappointment and sadness and resignation. She tried to hide it, or maybe even to ignore it, but it didn’t work.

“I can’t jump anymore.” She tapped her head. “Bad wreck last year, right after Zach and Mariah’s wedding. I almost died.” She broke the connection of their gaze for a moment, clearly battling memories. He watched her take a deep breath before meeting his gaze again and saying, “I lost all my clients, had to sell the horses I jumped, gave up the lease on my riding facility. When I got back on the one horse I still owned it was like learning to ride all over again. I can train people on the flat, from the ground, and I have a few new clients now, but nothing like I had before. I need to keep all four feet on the ground—all four hooves, that is. No more jumping. It’s just not physically possible for me. So here I am, starting over, and reining is what I want to do.”

Don’t do it, he warned himself. Don’t you get sucked in by pity. Or a pair of pretty eyes.

“You really think you’ll never jump again?”

The chin tipped even higher. “I told you. Never.”

He glanced at Teddy. Though he told himself not to go down that road, he found himself wondering what he would do if he were told he could never perform with his animals again. If he was forced to stop doing the thing he loved, the thing that was his sanity. His calm in the storm of life. His saving grace.

Damn it.

“I can maybe give you one or two nights this month, if—” he stressed the word with an index finger “—I’m in town.”

“Oh, thank you!” She took a step forward. He knew what she wanted to do, and he stepped back just in time. The move stopped her cold, and it also brought puzzlement into her beautiful face.

“I’ll call you when it looks like I’ll be back.” He untied Teddy and headed for the rear of the trailer.

“Do you want my number?”

“I’ll get it from Wes.”

She nodded, her smile bursting forth like the sun over the horizon. “You won’t regret this.”

Too late, he thought as he loaded up his horse. He already did.

Chapter Two

The one good thing, Natalie thought, the only blessing, was that she’d found some new clients recently. Granted, they were all at a backyard barn in a not-so-good part of Via Del Caballo, but she’d given it her all and had been rewarded with half a dozen 4-H kids and a few adults.

No more million-dollar horses. No more big-ticket clients. No more fancy riding facility.

She tried not to think about that as she groomed Playboy, the horse she’d bought a few months before the accident. It was only by the grace of God, and a lot of help from her friends—Wes and Jillian, Zach and Mariah—that Natalie had held on to the gelding. Despite what she’d been told about the future of her riding career, she’d refused to give him up. Everything else had been sold to help pay medical bills.

Stop thinking about it.

She heard tires crunching on gravel, turned away from where Playboy had been tied to a single rail hitching post, and spotted Colt’s fancy black truck with all his sponsor logos splashed across the front. It looked out of place when he parked next to her beat-up Ford F250, like a new shoe sitting next to an old one. There were days when she definitely missed her previous truck, Lola. She watched as he glanced over at her vehicle, no doubt wondering why she drove such a jalopy. He was parked in front of an old lean-to stall, one with tattered fencing that had once been painted white, but was now more brown than anything else.

“Is that the guy?”

Laney, one of her 4-H kids, a girl with more passion for horses than half a dozen of the spoiled brats Natalie used to train, paused in the middle of mucking out her horse’s paddock. This was a self-service facility. No more grooms to take care of everything.

“That’s him.”

“I looked him up on Google last night,” Laney said, her blond ponytail sliding over one shoulder. “Did you know his dad was some kind of rodeo cowboy, too? He used to be really famous. Performed in movies and everything. Colt took over the family business.”

Yeah, if rodeo clowns could be famous. Not that Colt was a clown. Not really. A specialty act, they called it, and he was good. That’s what she needed to remember if she were ever to perform on the back of an animal again. If she ever wanted to hear the roar of the crowd and feel the pride that came from being united with a four-legged creature, Colt was her only hope.

“Wish me luck,” she said to Laney.

“Can I watch?”

“Sure. Why not?” Maybe the two of them would learn something together.

Colt had spotted her. He’d pulled up not far from where she’d tied Playboy. He gave her what seemed like a half-hearted wave.

“Here we go,” she softly told the gelding, stepping back and eyeing the horse objectively. He’d changed a lot in the year and a half she’d had him. His once mousey brown coat now had dapples. His mane had gotten longer, too, and he’d grown. He was nearing sixteen hands. Big for a Western horse, but she was nearly five-eight and he fit her perfectly.