Winning the Cowboy's Heart

“Are you trying to keep me from buying a horse?”

Will tilted his black hat back, enabling her to see his eyes without the shadow of the brim. And they were nice eyes – not deep brown, like Kylie’s, but blue-grey.

“That would be rather presumptuous of me.”

Regan let out a snort. “Yes. I agree.”

“Been talking to Kylie?”

“Yes.”

Will’s gaze shifted to the door of the room behind her. He paused before he brought his attention back to Regan.

“I am not trying to keep you from buying a horse. I am trying to keep you from making a mistake.”

Incredible. “And who are you to decide whether or not I’m making a mistake?”

Dear Reader,

What makes a person a good parent? Love, patience, dedication, willingness to sacrifice…the list goes on. Being a good parent means making a commitment and sticking to it, even when the going gets rough.

Will Bishop is a good parent, raising his headstrong daughter without benefit of a wife or immediate family. He’s doing the best he can, but he’s facing mystifying teenage-girl issues and, in spite of his efforts, his daughter seems to be following a little too closely in his own hellion footsteps for comfort. What’s a father to do? Persevere. Hang on. Hope for the best. Especially when his life is further complicated by a deep attraction to his daughter’s teacher, and having to contend with the secret he’s been keeping for so many years.

I wrote this story with the idea of exploring the difficulties of being a single parent – in particular, a single parent falling in love and wondering how to work a relationship into his already complicated life. I hope you enjoy Winning the Cowboy’s Heart.

I would love to hear from you. Please contact me at jeanniewrites@gmail.com.

Happy reading,

Jeannie Watt

JEANNIE WATT

To the Rays and Mr Stein,

the best principals ever,

To my headstrong children,

To my parents,

who raised their own headstrong children,

To my mother, a true horsewoman,

I dedicate this book.

Thanks so much for everything.

CHAPTER ONE

THE CALL Will Bishop had been dreading came at 2:45 in the afternoon, just when he was beginning to think he was home free. As soon as he hung up the phone, he grabbed his hat and headed for the truck. True to form, his daughter Kylie had started junior high with a bang.

Will knew the way to the office by heart—he’d visited the place a time or two during his own scholastic career at Wesley Junior and Senior High. He pulled off his hat and stepped inside.

“Hi, Will.” The secretary was the same woman who’d kept him company years ago, only a little grayer now and sitting in front of a computer instead of a typewriter. “Long time, no see.”

“Mrs. Serrano.”

“You can go in.”

Will wondered how many more times he was going to hear those words over the next few years.

He pushed the door open. Four faces turned his way. Kylie, of course, looking defiant as only Kylie could; Mr. Bernardi, the principal; Pete Domingo, the PE teacher; and a lady he didn’t know.

“Have a seat, Will.”

At least Bernardi had refrained from making any comments about old times. The last thing Will needed was for Kylie to think she was carrying on a family tradition, even if she was.

“This is Miss Flynn,” Bernardi said, indicating the dark-haired woman who was now regarding Will with an inquiring expression. “Miss Flynn is Kylie’s science and social studies teacher.”

Miss Flynn acknowledged the introduction with a nod and a smile that stopped short of her striking green eyes. She seemed cool and professional, exactly the kind of teacher that Kylie—and Will, back in the day—always butted heads with. In fact, Kylie was glaring at her now from under her lashes. Will sensed a long school year ahead.

“Will, Kylie has engaged in some questionable behavior that needs to be addressed immediately.” Bernardi sounded as if he was reading from a cue card.

“I see.” Will was an old hand at translating teacher speak. He’d heard enough of it over the years. “What did Kylie do that was questionable?”

Mr. Bernardi was about to respond when he was interrupted by Pete Domingo. “Let’s let Kylie tell her father what she did.”

“Good idea,” Bernardi agreed. “Kylie?”

Kylie sent Pete a smoldering look. “I got caught.”

No kidding. “Caught doing what?”

“Caught smoking after PE,” Pete Domingo said, forgetting his intention of letting Kylie fess up.

“Smoking!”

Kylie nodded slowly. If Will hadn’t been so utterly ticked off, he would have noticed his daughter trying to send him a message.

He glanced at Bernardi. “I’ll be taking care of this at home. What happens here?”

“We know there are others involved, but Kylie won’t name names.”

“I was the only one,” she said.

“We know that’s not true.” Bernardi sounded tired.

Kylie stubbornly shook her head, her straight dark hair shifting over her shoulders. She was no longer meeting anyone’s gaze. Instead, she stared down at the floor tiles.

Principal Bernardi let out a sigh. “We’ve already discussed this with Kylie. If she won’t tell us who else was there, then she’ll have to bear the brunt of the punishment alone.”

Will gave Kylie a long look. Her jaw was locked and she looked so much like his ex-wife at that moment that it almost frightened him. But even if she resembled Desiree, she mostly took after him.

“I understand why Pete is here, but…” Will glanced over at Miss Flynn. She hadn’t said a word and she didn’t appear as though she particularly wanted to be there. Unlike Domingo. The little general was enjoying this.

“They were outside my room,” she said. “There was a group of at least three, but Kylie was the only one I recognized.”

Will gave Kylie one last chance, even though he knew it was futile. “Kylie?”

She shook her head. Will stood. “Unless she needs to stay now, I think we’ll go home and discuss this.”

“This means an automatic three-day suspension, Will. School-district policy.”

“I understand,” Will replied. “Come on, Kylie. We’re going home.” Kylie got up from the wooden chair and headed for the door.

“If I get any names, I’ll let you know,” he told Bernardi, and followed his daughter out of the room. He was almost at the main entrance when he heard quick footsteps behind him. What now?

“Go to the truck,” he told Kylie, who went out the door without a word. Will turned to face Miss Flynn, fast approaching with purposeful strides, the expression on her face that of someone about to give helpful hints on how to handle his child. Well, he’d had enough input from educators for one day.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not going to beat her.”

“That’s happy news,” she replied mildly, and Will felt somewhat ashamed of himself. “I actually wanted to talk to you about another matter.”

“Like…?”

“I’m looking for a horse. A pleasure horse, and I heard you have some for sale.”

This was not what Will had expected. Not even close. He gave a slow nod of acknowledgment. “I did have some horses for sale, but they went fast. I only have one left at this point, and I’m afraid he won’t do for you.”

Miss Flynn’s eyebrows edged upward. “Why? I’m an experienced rider.”

“He’s a man’s horse.”

She regarded him for a moment. “There’s no such thing.”

“He was abused by a woman and now he doesn’t like women—not even Kylie. Some horses are like that.”

She looked as though she’d like to argue the point with him, but she didn’t. “Well, do you know of any other horses for sale around here?” She pushed her hair behind an ear, mussing the layers.

“Not right now.” It was true. There weren’t many suitable horses for sale in Wesley, Nevada, and he wasn’t going to direct her to the Taylors, who always had a horse for sale at some ridiculously high price. “You might try closer to Elko.”

One corner of her mouth tightened in obvious frustration and suddenly she didn’t look so teacherlike.

“I’ll let you go.” She rubbed the back of her neck in a way that made Will think he wasn’t the only one who’d had a bad day. “I knew this wasn’t a good time to ask, but I really want a horse. And since I was going to call about your newspaper ad anyway.…” She shrugged. “Bad judgment on my part.”

She turned then, walked back down the hall, leaving Will staring after her. He felt like a jerk.

He debated for a moment, then decided to rebuild his burned bridges later. Right now he needed to nudge the truth out of his daughter.

“So who are you covering for this time?” Will asked as he put the truck in gear. Kylie waited until they were officially off school property before she answered.

“Mark. You know what his dad would do to him.”

Will knew. Mark’s dad was a bully, but somehow Mark not only survived, he was a likable kid.

“What happened?”

Kylie gave a brief description of events, which played out pretty much as Will had expected. Mark, the geek, had been proving he wasn’t a geek by smoking, with Kylie watching his back. The part where Kylie had got caught and Mark hadn’t was still hazy, but Will let that slide for the moment.

“If you’re suspended, I can’t exactly let you go to the horse show this weekend, can I?”

Kylie’s jaw dropped. “But I didn’t do anything.”

“You were there.”

“But…”

“Smoking is wrong, and you were there,” Will replied, holding firm.

“I was there because of Mark. People pick on him because they can. It’s not right.” Kylie let out a huff of breath to emphasize the remark.

“Well, I really don’t think smoking was the answer. Do you?”

“No, but I couldn’t talk him out of it.”

“Then you should have walked away. You can’t go through life protecting people, Kylie. And I don’t see Mark standing up for you. He left you twisting in the wind.”

Kylie gazed at her father earnestly. “He doesn’t know. They got me after science and I didn’t have time to see him. I totally missed my last class while we waited for you.”

“And now you’re going to miss three days.”

“And the horse show,” she muttered sullenly.

“You aren’t going to be riding or working with your horse, either. I need some help fixing the pole corral and I think there’s some housework that needs attending to. We’ll stop by the school tomorrow and pick up your work.”

They drove a few miles in silence and then Kylie asked, “How come the new teacher knew you?”

“What makes you think she knows me?”

“The way she was looking at you.”

Kylie didn’t elaborate and Will decided it was best not to ask. “She doesn’t know me. She knows we have horses for sale and she’s looking to buy a horse.”

“But all we have left is the paint gelding.”

“I know.”

“He won’t do for her.”

Will smiled in spite of himself. “That’s exactly what I told her.”

“MISS FLYNN?”

Regan turned to see Pete heading down the hall toward her, his whistle bouncing on his belly.

“Yes?”

“Look, I don’t know how they handled things down in Las Vegas, but frankly, I’d appreciate a little more support.”

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

“A united front.”

Regan frowned, wishing he’d given her enough information to enable her to respond. His expression shifted toward impatience.

“I really think you could have backed me when I pointed out the other two boys that had probably been with Kylie.”

“But I wasn’t sure it was them.”

“Well, I was.”

In spite of not having seen them.

Regan forced a smile and refrained from pointing that out to him, in the interest of maintaining a peaceful work environment. She liked her new school. A lot. It had a small staff, nice-sized classes and one of her best friends from college worked there. Actually, when all her carefully made plans had blown up in her face, thanks to Daniel, her former colleague and jerk of an ex-boyfriend, it had been Tanya who’d encouraged her to move four hundred miles north.

“I’ll try to be more observant next time.”

Pete gave a curt nod. “It would help.”

REGAN’S NEW PRINCIPAL lasted less than a week.

Bernardi experienced chest pains on Thursday. On Friday it was announced he was taking an indefinite leave of absence. Pete Domingo, the only person on staff with administrative certification, would become acting principal in the interim.

“Pete Domingo?” Tanya moaned on the day of the big announcement. She flicked her smooth blond hair back over her shoulder. “Do you know what we’re in for?”

“A united front, I gather.” Regan perched on the edge of a student desk, waiting for her friend to finish her lesson plan.

“I’d rather have a monkey as an administrator. No, make that a baboon. Pete’s ego is entirely too big and he’s not concerned with learning. He’s a do-or-die coach. He just wants to dom-i-nate.”

“So do you, only in the academic sense.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s go.” Tanya closed her book. “I can finish up tomorrow. Oh, by the way, my landlord knows a guy who’s selling a horse. Some kind of fancy quarter horse. He told me about it, but I can’t remember much. I think it’s female, has four legs and a tail.”

“Funny, but that’s exactly what I’m looking for.”

Tanya reached for the phone book on the edge of her desk. “I’ll find the number.”

TANYA WAS BUSY ON SATURDAY, so Regan drove to the landlord’s friend’s place alone. She was greeted by a man in cowboy gear who introduced himself as Charley. He led her to a panel corral, where a stocky bay mare stood.

“Her name is Bonita Bar Santos, but I call her Broomtail.”

“Broomtail?”

“She rubs her tail on the fence in hot weather and makes a mess of it,” Charley explained as he entered the corral with a halter. The mare lifted bored eyes and stood, docile, while he slipped the halter over her head and buckled it. Regan opened the gate and Charley led Broomtail out.

“Did you bring your saddle?”

“No.” Her saddle was English and it was still at her mother’s house. She’d have to send for it.

He dropped the lead rope and went inside the tack shed without tying up the mare. She cocked a hind leg and waited, ears at half-mast. After much clunking and banging, the guy came out carrying a dusty saddle in his left hand. “Only small one I have.” With his right hand, he put a blanket on the mare and smoothed it, then settled the saddle into place. He cinched it up. “Just let me get the bridle and you can take her for a spin.”

Regan rode for almost an hour, happy to be back in a saddle after too many years out of it. The horse moved slowly—pleasure rather than performance material. But she knew her stuff. She sluggishly picked up her leads, turned on the forehand and side passed. As Regan worked her, the mare gradually became more responsive, quicker in her movements. She tossed her head impatiently a few times on the way home and started to jig, but after her slow beginning, Regan took it as a good sign. Maybe the mare had life in her after all. Maybe all she needed was to lose weight and get some exercise.

“I hope I haven’t kept you from something,” Regan said after dismounting and handing the man the reins. He’d been looking at his watch when she returned and she felt bad for taking so long.

“Not at all.” He smiled hopefully. “Well?”

“I’ll think about it and let you know.”

His face fell. “Just a word of warning. There will be some people coming to see her tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll let you know,” Regan said firmly. “Thanks for showing her to me.”

IT WAS NOT A CALL Will wanted to make, but Zero Benson from the feed store had seemed pretty certain of his information. Zero wasn’t exactly the sharpest person in the world, but Will figured he’d better check things out anyway. He dialed Charley Parker’s number. The conversation lasted almost a minute before Charley hung up on him.

“Is Charley trying to sell Broomtail?” Kylie asked without looking up from her math book. Her collie pup, Stubby, lay at her feet, his chin resting on her shoe.

“When is he not trying to sell Broomtail?” Will went to the old-fashioned enamel sink and rinsed the coffeepot, then wiped down the counter.

“Charley’d probably be happy if someone stole her, then he wouldn’t have to feed her anymore.” Kylie erased part of an answer, then rewrote a few numbers.

“That would only work if he had her insured, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t.”

“So, did the Martinezes have insurance?”

“Hardly anyone insures their horses around here, kiddo, except for maybe the Taylors. Too expensive.”

“So when their horses got stolen…” Kylie made a gesture with her pencil.

“They’re out of luck, unless we find them.” And it wasn’t looking good. Most stolen horses ended up in an out-of-state auction within days of being taken. The Martinez horses had been gone for three days.

“Should have freeze-branded them,” Kylie murmured before turning back to her homework.

“Ever hear that saying about the barn door and the horse?”

“Only when you say it,” she replied in a way that made him feel very old and out of touch.

Will settled in the kitchen chair across from his daughter and pulled his account books closer. He’d developed the habit of doing his paperwork while Kylie worked on her homework, finding that it kept them both on track. He now had a set of books he was proud of and Kylie was proving to be a much better student than he’d been.

Now if she could just stay out of trouble for a day or two.

THE MARE WAS no longer on the market. Charley called early Saturday morning to give Regan the news.

“Did you sell her?” she asked, thinking that if he had, he’d sold her within the past twelve hours.

“Not exactly. I just…changed my mind.”

Regan hung up the phone with a frown. Weird. The guy’d seemed anxious to sell the horse less than a day ago. She decided to chalk it up to small-town eccentricity.

She gathered her purse and car keys, ready to start phase two of her horse hunt.

Madison White operated the indoor riding arena at the edge of town and, according to people at school, if she didn’t have a horse, she at least had the connections to find one. Regan had already decided to see what the woman had to offer before making a decision on Broomtail, which was fortuitous, since the mare was now mysteriously off the market.

As it turned out, Madison had a horse for sale that was stabled at the arena. A nice, big horse with a nice, big price tag. A Thoroughbred that had been purchased as a jumper and had proven to be too hot for the girl who’d bought him.

Regan borrowed a saddle and mounted what felt like a bundle of dynamite. But once she got him moving, she found that he was smooth and smart. He just needed work, and Regan was looking for a project to fill her free time.

She did a quick calculation, decided to eat less for a few months and told Madison she wanted the gelding. She managed to dicker the price down by a couple of hundred dollars, but the purchase was still going to eat a hole in her budget. Regan didn’t care. She had a horse.

She made arrangements to continue boarding him at the arena until she got her pasture properly fenced, and then drove home, feeling richer rather than poorer.

Now all she had to do was hire a fencer, buy a water tank, arrange a vet check, send for her saddle and watch her pennies for a few months. Okay, maybe a year. But it didn’t matter, she had a horse.

CLAIRE TRIED TO BE EXCITED for Regan when she called to share her news. But since Claire had never owned an animal in her life, Regan knew her sister was having a hard time relating. Claire soon turned the topic to her primary concern.

“I can’t believe you left me alone in this city with Mom.”

“How’re your classes going?”

“I’m not wild about them. I mean, they’re easy enough, but…I don’t know. Something’s missing.”

Only Claire would say that engineering classes were “easy enough.” She was accidentally brilliant, according to their mother. She could do upper-level math with ease, but she found the things she was good at boring. She liked to dive into subjects she knew nothing about, learn what she could and then move on. An attention-deficit engineer. Probably not what the world needed.

“What’s missing?”

“I don’t know. Passion?” Claire must have sensed Regan’s smile. “Hey, you feel passionately about your job. Why shouldn’t I feel the same about mine? And you put your foot down when Mom wanted you to go to law school.”

“Yes, and you can do the same.”

There was a slow intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by a long exhalation. “I’m not quite ready for that.”

KYLIE STAYED LATE on the day she returned to school, making up the science lab she’d missed the day before. Regan attempted to initiate a conversation once the girl was finished—attempted being the key word. In the wake of the smoking incident, Kylie wasn’t exactly warming up to Regan.

“Do you ride?” Regan asked after a string of frustrating monosyllabic replies to other questions. The conversation was becoming a battle of wills, but Regan wasn’t ready to give up.

“Yes.”

“Does your dad ride?”

“It’s his job.”

“Riding?”

“He starts colts for people.”

“I see.” Regan was beginning to feel as if she were starring in an episode of Dragnet.

“That’s what I’m going to do, too.” Ah, progress. Two answers with more than two words. Regan decided to press on. “Has your dad always been a horse trainer?”

“Pretty much.”

“What did he do before he started training horses?”

“I think he’s always trained horses. He used to ride rodeo, before he got hurt. I do junior rodeo in the summer.” Kylie pushed back the dark strands of hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

“You’re a lot like your dad, then.”

“Yeah.” Kylie gave a wry twist of a smile. “Even in ways he doesn’t get.”

Regan cocked her head. “Like how?”

“Like he keeps telling me I can’t be rescuing things, but he does it all the time.”

“He rescues things?”

“Horses. People.”

“People? How does he rescue people?” Kylie shrugged nonchalantly. “He saved

you from buying Broomtail, didn’t he?”

Regan just managed to keep her jaw from dropping. That was the end of twenty questions and Kylie knew it. Regan gave the girl a tight you-win smile and went to tidy up the lab equipment. She would be discussing the Broomtail matter further, but it would be with the father and not the daughter.

About a minute later Will’s big diesel truck pulled into the school parking lot. Good timing. Regan would just as soon get this over with while she was still annoyed.

“I’d like to talk to your father alone.”

“I’ll wait here.” It sounded like a procedure Kylie was familiar with.

“We’re not going to talk about you,” Regan assured her with a half smile.

Kylie couldn’t quite erase the “yeah, sure” look from her face.

Regan stepped out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind her, and met Will at the glass entryway a few feet from her room.