High Country Cowgirl Read online

  “He lives here. I live there.” Bonita shrugged. “I’ve never really liked long-distance relationships. Too much effort.”

  “Your father owns a private jet,” Jill said, a conspiratorial gleam in her hazel eyes.

  “Maybe if I met the right guy,” Bonita said with another noncommittal shrug.

  “Mark could be the right guy.”

  She didn’t want to kiss and tell, so she just kept her mouth shut. But the first kiss with Mark hadn’t set off any bells and whistles. Instead, she dropped the subject, gave her friend another hug and then waved as Jill drove away and headed back to her life in DC.

  Luckily, Bonita didn’t have a moment to be melancholy. Her longtime dressage instructor, Candace, noticed her standing in the driveway with her suitcase, looking like a waif.

  “Big day!” Candace was a tall, lanky woman with cropped blond hair framing a long, tanned, makeup-free face.

  “A long time coming,” Bonita agreed.

  They stowed her suitcase in a locker in the climate-controlled tack room and then headed toward a small turnout paddock to see her boy.

  “He’s been doing great.” Candace leaned her arms over the fence.

  Bonita felt happy, truly happy, when she was able to lay eyes on her horse again. His full name was Valdemar’s Vested Interest and he had been imported from Germany two years prior as an upper-level dressage prospect. Now that she was taking a break from school, her father wanted her to get back into showing. But in her heart, Bonita wasn’t sure that she wanted that for herself.

  She clucked her tongue at Val to get his attention. The gelding, so regal with his long gray-and-white tail and his shiny dappled, blue-gray body, lifted his head for a brief moment before he went back to grazing. Was it right for her to take him out of the heart of dressage country and move him to cattle country?

  “How have you been? How’s your mother?”

  Bonita filled her trainer in on the last several months of her life, trying to sound more positive about the move than she actually felt.

  “Here’s the million-dollar question. Have you been riding?”

  They turned away from the paddock. “Honestly? Not much. I mean, I’ve been hopping on Mom’s old girl just to keep her moving, but other than that...” Bonita’s words trailed off. “I don’t know what to tell you. I feel stuck since I’ve moved out there. Frozen. I feel completely out of my element, disoriented. I just can’t seem to get myself motivated to do much of anything, other than making sure Mom’s okay. I’m hoping Val will give me the motivation I need to snap out of it.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Candace said, “Once you get Val settled, I’ll come out to Montana. He’s fit. He’s been on a strict training program. He’s not the kind of horse you can leave to his own devices. You’ve got to get him back into his workout routine immediately.”

  “I will. I promise. And yes to you coming for a visit.”

  Candace got a text on her phone. “Your transporter is being buzzed in at the gate right now.”

  There it was—that flip-flop in her stomach at the thought of seeing Gabe again.

  Even after Gabe showed her his rig, even after she had checked his credentials, followed up with references, checked prices to fly Val to Montana, interviewed other cross-country transport companies, Bonita kept coming back to Gabe Brand.

  She had been impressed with his rig—it was top-notch, with all the safety features and comfort necessary for such an extensive trip. Gabe had contacts with quality stables along the route so they could stop and let Val rest overnight. The rig was also equipped with a box stall so that Val could move around and stretch his neck down, which would lessen the risk of respiratory problems from the trip.

  Even though she had dismissed him in the beginning, after speaking with Gabe about his transport experience and probing his knowledge about horses, Bonita couldn’t dismiss him for long.

  * * *

  Gabe Brand pulled up to the secured gate of Prestige Farm after traveling for several days. He had been able to coordinate a delivery of a quarter horse to a facility in Maryland before heading down to Virginia to pick up the Oldenburg.

  He loved being on the road, just him and his dog, Tater. The peace and quiet of the road was something he craved during the spells when he didn’t have any transport business on the books.

  “Gabe Brand,” he spoke into the intercom. “I’m here to pick up Vested Interest.”

  The ornate gate, decorated with intricate scrollwork and a large gold horseshoe in the center, slowly opened. Gabe had been to a lot of barns, big and small, but this was one of the swankier facilities he’d ever visited. The place just said “money.” The barn didn’t even resemble a barn—it looked more like a fancy stucco hotel with brick pavers leading up to a two-story clubhouse.

  “Fancy.” Gabe found a place to park his rig near what appeared to be the main entrance of the barn.

  The rancher grabbed his cowboy hat and gave Tater, who was curled up in the front seat, a quick pat on the head. “I’ll let you out on the grass before we take off,” he promised his tiny canine companion.

  Gabe hopped out of the truck, shut the door and turned to head to the front office.

  “Hi.”

  “Holy Jesus, woman! You scared the living daylights out of me.”

  Bonita, a person he didn’t expect to see, had sneaked up on him out of nowhere. She was just as pretty on second look as she had been on the first; her hair was braided into a thick, single plait and she was wearing slim-fit jeans that hugged her body in the right ways. Her face was made-up, just like the first day they had met, and it made him wonder what Bonita looked like without a full face of makeup.

  “All I did was say hi,” she countered.

  “I suppose I didn’t expect to see you here today.” Gabe tipped his hat to her. “How do?”

  “I’m doing okay. A little anxious. Val’s paperwork is in order, he’s up-to-date on all of his shots and he’s been given a clean bill of health. One of the stablehands is putting on his shipping boots right now.”

  Gabe nodded. She had just answered most of the questions he was going to ask any warm body he could find at the front office.

  “Any loading issues with this horse?”

  “No.” She gave a little shake of her head. “And my trainer said he’s always been a good traveler, so we shouldn’t have any problems along the way.”

  Gabe stopped in his tracks. “Hold up. What do you mean by ‘we’ exactly?”

  “Oh.” Bonita looked him straight in the eye, her jaw setting. “Didn’t I tell you? I’ve decided to tag along.”

  Chapter Two

  “Here’s the health certificate with a current Coggins test.” Candace handed Gabe the paperwork. “I think you’re all set. You’ve got enough of his food and hay to last you until you get him home, paperwork—”

  “Horse,” Bonita filled in for her trainer with a smile.

  “Most important.” The trainer opened her arms for a hug.

  It had taken twenty minutes to get Val loaded into the rig. It was the first time Candace had ever had issues loading the show horse, and Bonita hoped it wasn’t an omen of things to come.

  “We’re all going to miss you here.” Candace stepped back after they hugged tightly. “But as soon as you’re ready for me, I’ll come to you.”

  “Ready?” Gabe had left them for a moment but returned much too quickly. Saying goodbye to Candace meant closing a chapter of a life she had loved dearly.

  Bonita nodded, blinking hard several times to stop tears from welling in her eyes. She leaned down to pick up her small suitcase, but Gabe beat her to it. With her suitcase in one hand, the cowboy opened up the side door to his rig, a door that led into the living area, and nodded for her to go up the small flight of stairs.

  “I’ll just put your bag rig
ht here for now.” Gabe tucked her suitcase into one of the cabinets that lined the wall.

  Her arms crossed in front of her body, Bonita said, “That’s fine.”

  Her plan was unfolding perfectly, and yet she hadn’t accurately imagined what it would feel like to be alone with Gabe, a virtual stranger. It felt, as it turned out, awkward and odd.

  “You’re welcome to ride back here,” Gabe said, his body stiff. She guessed that he was feeling as uncomfortable as she was by her decision to hijack the trip. “Catch you a nap if you want.”

  “I have to ride up front,” she explained. “Car sickness.”

  She didn’t imagine it—he looked pretty disappointed by that bit of news.

  “Well,” Gabe said slowly. “Tater usually rides up front with me.”

  Tater, having heard her name, gave one, high-pitched bark.

  So Bonita wasn’t the only passenger. A lover of all animals, her awkwardness temporarily forgotten, Bonita walked past the cowboy to the front of the rig. The moment she saw the little dog, she felt happy. She wasn’t alone with Gabe—they had Tater!

  “You have a Chihuahua?”

  “That’s Tater,” he said. “Be careful. She’s old and she can get snappy every now and again.”

  Bonita ignored the warning and scooped up the little dog into her arms. “Please,” she said to him. “We are both Mexican Americans. We are destined to get on.” To Tater, she asked, “Tu hablas español, mi perrita?” Bonita smiled at Gabe. “I asked her if she speaks Spanish.”

  He adjusted his cowboy hat to sit a bit farther back on his head. She could see his eyes better, and she was struck by how clear and bright those eyes really were.

  “She knows uno, dos and tres. I didn’t teach her four, on account of the leg.”

  For the first time that day, Bonita truly felt like laughing. So the cowboy had a sense of humor. That could make the trip a little more interesting. “That was probably the right thing to do,” Bonita agreed. “What happened to your leg, little one?”

  “That’s just how God made her.”

  “Well—she’s perfect.”

  Tater had managed to break the ice between the cowboy and her. Bonita took her place in the passenger seat, buckled up and then put the dog in her lap.

  Gabe got himself situated behind the wheel of the large rig and cranked the engine. On the dashboard, a screen turned on and a live video feed of her horse appeared.

  “This way, we’ve got eyes on him the whole trip,” Gabe said. “We’ll be stopping in Columbus, Ohio, for the night...give his legs a rest.”

  Bonita watched the horse on the screen, still in awe that he was actually hers, as they slowly made their way to the gate. As the gate swung open, she looked at the equestrian complex she had called home in the side view mirror, feeling nostalgic for another time, when her mom was healthy and she was under the illusion that nothing in her life could go wrong. That’s how it had been while she was riding here. It had been an idyllic life and it was over. Now she knew that plenty could go wrong. In fact, her whole world could shatter with one diagnosis.

  “I hope you like music.” Gabe switched on the radio.

  She did like music. All kinds. Reggae, classic rock, salsa, jazz—she liked virtually all genres of music. The one kind of music she couldn’t stand? Country. What did Gabe play for the entire seven hours it took to get to their first stop? Country.

  Bonita tried several different strategies to cope with the onslaught of her most hated genre of music: listening to her own music with her earbuds, striking up a conversation with the cowboy, counting telephone poles, scrolling through her social media, texting friends and mindful meditation. She even contemplated braving a bout of motion sickness by escaping to the back, but the thought of losing her lunch in Gabe’s super expensive Equine Motorcoach made her think better of it. Instead, she sat in stoic silence, internally cursing all country singers and over-petting poor Tater’s head. The only reprieve she got was when they had to stop for fuel and a bathroom break for the Chihuahua.

  “Do you need anything?” she asked before heading into the convenience store.

  “No. I’m good. Once I’m done filling up, I’m gonna check on Val before we take off again.”

  Bonita dawdled in the convenience store. She knew Gabe was probably ready to roll and she just couldn’t quite bring herself to hurry. She had physically shaken her head in the bathroom in an unsuccessful attempt to get Blake Shelton out of it. By the time she left the store with her soda, something she promised she wouldn’t drink on the trip, and a candy bar, something she promised herself she wouldn’t eat on the trip, Gabe had the rig parked near the exit. He was definitely waiting on her.

  “How is he?” she asked as she climbed into the rig, juggling her drink and candy bar.

  “Good.”

  He was annoyed.

  “Buckle up.” He already had the engine cranked. “We’re on a schedule.”

  She took Tater from him, settled the dog on her lap and then she did buckle up, but she did it rather slowly. He might be annoyed with her, but she was the one who had to marinate in Johnny Cash for heaven only knew how much longer.

  “How much longer do we have?” she asked over the music.

  “Just shy of an hour.”

  ¡Ay Dios mio! ¡Por favor, no mas musica!

  She prayed to God to make the music stop. Her prayers were not answered and ol’ Johnny kept on singin’. She had thought several times to ask him to turn the music off for a bit, yet she was acutely aware of the fact that she was the one crashing this party. She hadn’t trusted him with nearly a million dollars of her father’s money—that was the truth. But crashing the party and making demands was even a step too far for her.

  “I’ve never been to Ohio,” she said, more to herself than to Gabe. For miles and miles, the terrain had been flat, and cows occupied the fields more often than not. Ohio seemed to be as rural and lonely in places as Montana, minus the mountains. Even though she didn’t like the fact that rush hour traffic was slowing them down in Columbus, she was glad to see civilization. She liked to see people—she liked the energy of a big city.

  “What’s that?” Gabe switched off the radio.

  Gracias a Dios. Bonita silently thanked God.

  “I’ve never been here.” She gestured out the windshield. “Ohio.”

  Gabe nodded wordlessly.

  “Where are we stopping for the night?”

  “My friend’s got a spread not too far from here. Plenty of room for Val to let loose some energy. Doc’s ready for him—got a stall set up for tonight.”

  She assumed that Doc was the friend; she didn’t ask because she was tired and feeling irritable. She’d find out soon enough one way or the other.

  “I don’t know how you do this all the time,” Bonita muttered and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The drive was tedious, just one endless mile after another. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

  “Sometimes,” Gabe said. “But this is part of how I make a living, so I get over it quick enough.”

  He thankfully took the next exit and then they went deep into the back roads on the far outskirts of Columbus. There were more miles with more cows and more dilapidated barns in more flat fields, and then Bonita spotted the sign announcing that they had finally arrived at their destination: Hobby Horse Farm.

  It was a lovely farm. The crown jewel was a whitewashed Victorian farmhouse with a wraparound porch, carved gables and two stately brick chimneys. There were miles of green pastureland, white fences and grazing horses dotting the landscape. She hugged Tater to her body a little too hard in her excitement, and the dog gave a grunt of discomfort.

  “Oh! I’m sorry, little one.” She kissed the dog on the head. “I’m just so happy that we’re finally here!”

  * * *

  “Gabe Brand, as I
live and breathe!”

  Doc turned out to be a wiry woman, possibly in her late forties. She had a wild mass of copper curls and deep smile lines around her eyes and mouth. She was dressed in riding boots and breeches and she was waving her arms in the air in enthusiastic greeting. A small pack of dogs—old, young, small and large—surrounded Gabe’s friend, barking and tails wagging. Not to be outdone, Tater began to alternate between growls and woofs.

  Gabe stuck his hand out the window and waved. “Where do you want her?”

  “Pull straight on in.” The woman pointed to the large gravel area ahead. “It’ll hold you.”

  He parked and hopped out of the rig. Bonita was glad to follow. Carrying Tater, she rounded the front of the rig and caught the greeting between friends. The woman, who seemed to jerk from one position to the next in big leaps and movements, tossed her arms over Gabe’s shoulders and kissed him right on the lips. It wasn’t a lingering kiss, but Bonita sure didn’t recall greeting any of her friends—male or female—with a kiss on the lips.

  “Goodness gracious, I’m glad to see you.” Doc exclaimed, her hands now on her boyish hips. “It’s been too long.”

  Like a bee in search of nectar, their hostess flitted toward her, a wide, welcoming smile on her face. The woman invaded her personal space and stuck out her hand. “Janice Joplin. Same sound, different spelling. I know, can you believe it? I married into the name. I thought about changing it after the divorce, but by then I’d been Doc Joplin for years, so why bother. I can’t sing, I’ve never had a drug problem, I’m not kin. So there you go.”

  It took Bonita a split second to realize that Janice had finished, come up for air and was waiting on her now.

  “Bonny.” She told Janice her nickname, sometimes a little shy about her own given name, while Janice’s pack of dogs wove around her legs, smacking her legs with their wagging tails. Tater was snarling at the circling, friendly pack of canines, showing her teeth and growling low in her throat.