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Last Chance Cowboy
Cathy McDavid


The Last Cowboy Of Mustang ValleyThe Powell Ranch is not the expansive spread it used to be. With a good part of its land sold off to developers, Gabe Powell is struggling to save his disappearing way of life. He has a legacy to leave his daughter, and starting a stud farm would give him financial stability. But first he must capture the wild horse he’s spotted in nearby Mustang Valley.Sage Navarre is in Arizona on an urgent domestic matter that will secure her young child’s future. And as a government field agent, she’s been ordered to help Gabe track down an escaped mustang while she’s here. Working with the cowboy is an incredible experience—and Sage finds herself wildly attracted to him. But what will Gabe say when she dashes his dreams for his ranch? Because he’s not the only one who wants that mustang.










His hand drifted to the middle of her back and pressed lightly.

Sage’s own hands rested awkwardly at the sides of his denim jacket. For one brief second, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to circle his middle with her arms and nestle fully against him.

Crazy. And highly inappropriate. Certainly not the kind of thoughts a crying woman had about a man.

Except she wasn’t crying anymore.

And since her crying had subsided, she really had no reason to keep standing there, snug in Gavin’s embrace.

“Sorry about that,” she murmured and slowly began to disengage herself.

“Don’t be.” He halted her by tucking a finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up and bringing his mouth down on hers.

Her arms, no longer awkward and indecisive, clung to him as she gave herself over to what quickly became the most incredible kiss of her life.


Dear Reader,

I consider myself a very fortunate person. One reason is that I live in the foothills of the McDowell Mountains, a gorgeous urban mountain range that borders north Scottsdale. I get to wake up every morning to a spectacular view from my bedroom window and walk my dogs along scenic nature trails that are only minutes away. When I was a teenager, this part of the valley wasn’t yet developed, and I used to ride my horse through the same empty desert where I and a thousand of my neighbors now reside. Kind of amazing in a way.

With inspiration like this, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander and imagine all sorts of stories blending the past and the present. I’m not quite sure where the idea for Last Chance Cowboy came from—it probably occurred to me while driving past the few remaining ranches in the area on my way to the river. But once born, the idea of a wild mustang roaming an urban mountain range quickly took hold, and I couldn’t shake it.

I am delighted to bring the story of Gavin, Sage and an amazing horse to you and thrilled to be writing about a place that is both literally and figuratively close to my heart.

Warmest wishes,

Cathy McDavid

P.S. I always enjoy hearing from readers. You can contact me at www.cathymcdavid.com.


Last Chance Cowboy

Cathy McDavid






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Chapter One


The trail, narrow and steep, all but disappeared as it wrapped around the sheer mountain ledge. Good thing heights didn’t bother him, Gavin Powell thought as his horse’s hoof slipped and sent a shower of rocks tumbling to the ravine bottom forty feet below. He loosened his reins, giving the paint mare her head. She was small but sure-footed and carefully picked her way along the ledge with the concentration of a tightrope walker.

This wasn’t a trail for novices—not one on which Gavin took the customers of his family’s riding stable. He’d discovered the trail as a teenager over fifteen years ago and rode it every now and then when he craved peace and solitude.

Shaking his head, he chuckled dismally. Who’d have ever thought he’d need to retreat to this remote trail in order to find solitude? Not Gavin. Until a few years ago, their nearest neighbors had been fifteen miles down a single lane road that saw little traffic. Now, their nearest neighbors were at the end of the long drive leading from what little remained of Powell Ranch.

All nine hundred of them.

Gavin pushed away the thought. He’d come here to relax and unwind, not work himself into a sweat. Besides, if he was going to expend large amounts of mental and emotional energies, it would be on one of his many pressing personal problems, not something he was powerless to change.

The mare abruptly stopped, balancing on a precipice no wider than her shoulders. Gavin had to tuck his left arm close to his side or rub the sleeve of his denim jacket against the rugged rock face.

“Come on, Shasta.” He nudged the mare gently. “Now’s not the time to lose your courage.”

She raised her head but remained rooted in place, her ears twitching slightly and her round eyes staring out across the ravine.

Rather than nudge her again, Gavin reached for the binoculars he carried in his saddlebags, only to realize he’d forgotten to bring them along. Pushing back the brim of his cowboy hat, he squinted against the glaring noonday sun, searching the peaks and gullies. The mare obviously sensed something, and he trusted her instincts more than he trusted his own.

All at once, she tensed and let out a shrill whinny, her sides quivering.

“What do you see, girl?”

Shasta snorted in reply.

Gavin continued scanning the rugged mountain terrain. Just as he was ready to call it quits, he spotted movement across the ravine. A black shape traveled down the steep slope, zigzagging between towering saguaro cacti and prickly cholla. Too dark for a mule deer, too large for a coyote and too fast for a human, the shape could be only one thing.

The wild mustang!

He reached again for his saddlebags, but he’d forgotten his camera, too. Dammit. Well, he really didn’t need another picture. Especially one from such a far distance. He’d already taken dozens of the mustang, many of which he’d sent to the U.S. Bureau of Land Management when he’d first spotted the horse. All he’d received in response was a polite letter thanking him for the information and giving a weak assurance they would investigate the matter.

That was June. It was now October.

The BLM probably figured the horse was an escapee from one of the residents in Mustang Village, the community now occupying the land once belonging to Gavin’s family. Or that the horse had crossed over from the Indian reservation on the other side of the McDowell Mountains. The last wild mustangs left this part of Arizona more than sixty years ago, or so the stories his grandfather used to tell him went. As a teenager, his grandfather had rounded up wild mustangs. No way could this horse be one of them.

But Gavin’s heart told him different. Maybe, by some miracle, one descendant had survived.

Gavin was going to capture him. He’d made the decision two months ago when yet another phone call to the BLM yielded absolutely nothing. Even if the horse was simply an escapee, it was in danger from injuries, illness, ranchers not opposed to shooting a wild horse, and possibly predators, though mountain lions in this area were a rarity these days.

He told himself his intentions were selfless—he was thinking only of the horse’s safety and well-being.

Truthfully, Gavin wanted the horse for himself. As a tribute. To his grandfather and to the cowboy way of life he loved, which was disappearing bit by bit every day. Then, he would breed the mustang to his mares, many of which, like Shasta, had bloodlines going all the way back to the wild mustangs of his grandfather’s time.

He’d recently acquired a partner with deep pockets, a man from Mustang Valley, and developed a business plan. All he needed was the stud horse.

This weekend, he, his partner, his brother and their two ranch hands would go out. By Monday, if all went well, Gavin’s family would have a new revenue stream, and the years of barely making ends meet would be forever behind them.

All at once, the black spot vanished, swallowed by the uneven terrain.

Gavin reached for his saddlebag a third time and pulled out a map, marking the location and date. Later tonight, he would add the information to the log he kept tracking the mustang’s travels.

“Let’s go, girl.”

With another lusty snort, Shasta continued along the ledge as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Her metal shoes clinked on the hard boulders beneath her feet. In the sky above, a pair of redtail hawks rode the wind currents as they searched for prey.

An hour later, Gavin and Shasta reached the main trail that traversed the northern section of the McDowell Sonoran Preserve. It was along here that Gavin and his brother guided their customers. Most of the horse-owning residents of Mustang Village favored the gently winding trail, where four generations of Powells had driven their cattle after spring and fall roundups.

Gavin hated thinking there wouldn’t be a fifth generation.

As he neared his family’s villa, with its large barn and adjoining stables, his gaze automatically wandered to the valley below, and he was struck with yet another pang of nostalgia. Not long ago, Powell cattle had roamed the open range, feeding on the lush vegetation that grew along a small branch of the Salt River.

These days, houses, apartments and commercial buildings took the place of open range, and the river had been dammed up to create an urban lake and surrounding park.

Gavin understood that progress couldn’t be stopped. He just wished it hadn’t come to Mustang Valley.

Dismounting, he waved to the adult students taking riding lessons in the main arena. Later, after the grade school let out for the day, the equestrian drill team would practice their routines there.

He’d given up hope that his twelve-year-old daughter, Cassie, would become a member. Not that she didn’t like horses. Quite the opposite. She spent most of her free time in the stables, and for someone who’d never ridden until this past summer, she’d taken to it like a natural. Apparently there was something to be said for genes.

No, the reason his daughter wouldn’t join the school equestrian team was the same reason she had few real friends and was struggling with her classes.

Slow to fit in, Principal Rodgers liked to say, despite scoring high on her placement tests. The move from Connecticut to Arizona was a big adjustment. As was switching from private school to public school. So was living full-time with her mom to living full-time with a dad she hardly knew.

The adjustments weren’t easy for his sensitive and often emotional daughter.

Leading Shasta into the stables, he tethered her to a hitching rail outside the tack room, unsaddled her and proceeded to give her a good brushing. He heard a familiar whistling and glanced up to see Ethan approaching, his farrier chaps slung low on his hips. A casual observer might not notice the limp, which had improved considerably in the ten months since his discharge from the Marines.

Gavin noticed, however, and winced inwardly every time he thought of the injury that had permanently disabled his younger brother.

“You have a visitor,” Ethan announced, coming to stand by Gavin and resting a forearm on the mare’s hind quarters. “A lady visitor.”

Gavin’s stomach instantly tightened. “Not Principal Rodgers again?”

Ethan’s eyes sparked with undisguised curiosity. “This gal’s about thirty years younger than Principal Rodgers. And a lot better looking.”

“Someone from town?” Though Mustang Village was technically a residential community, Gavin and his family always referred to it as a town.

“I don’t think so. She doesn’t have the look.”

“An attorney?” He wouldn’t put it past Cassie’s mother to serve him with papers despite their recently revised joint-custody agreement.

“No. She’s a cowgirl for sure. Pulled in with a truck and trailer.”

Gavin knew he should quit stalling and just go meet the woman. But given the family’s run of bad luck in recent years, he tended to anticipate the worst whenever visitors wouldn’t identify themselves.

“Got a girlfriend on the side you haven’t mentioned?” Ethan’s mouth lifted in an amused grin.

“When’s the last time you saw me on a date?”

“If you’re considering it, you could do worse than this gal.”

Gavin refused to acknowledge his brother’s remark. “Where’s she waiting?”

“In the living room. With Cassie.”

He ground his teeth together. “Couldn’t you have stayed with her and sent Cassie instead?”

“She’ll be fine. Your daughter isn’t half the trouble you think she is.”

“Yeah, tell that to Principal Rodgers.” Gavin pushed the brush he’d been using into his brother’s hand. “Take care of Shasta for me, will you?”

Without waiting for an answer, he started down the stable aisle. As he entered the open area in front of the main arena, he dusted off his jeans, removed his hat and combed his fingers through his hair. Passing two of his adult students, he nodded and murmured, “Afternoon.” He might not like people living in the valley once owned by his family and traipsing all over his property, but without their business, he and his family would lose their only source of income.

At the kitchen door, he kicked the toes of his boots against the threshold, dislodging any dust before entering the house. A tantalizing aroma greeted him, and he turned to see a pot of spaghetti sauce simmering on the old gas range. His father’s doing. Since Gavin’s mother died, cooking was the only chore on the ranch Wayne Powell did with any regularity.

The sound of voices carried from the other room, one of them Cassie’s. Did she know this woman?

Gavin’s anxiety increased. He disliked surprises.

His footsteps on the Saltillo tile floor must have alerted Cassie and the woman because they were both facing him when he entered the old house’s spacious living room.

“Hi.” He removed his hat and, after a brief second of indecision, set it on the coffee table. “I’m Gavin Powell.”

The woman stepped and greeted him with a pleasant smile. “Sage Navarre.”

He shook her extended hand, appreciating her firm grip. Ethan had been right. Ms. Navarre was definitely attractive, her Hispanic heritage evident in her brown eyes and darker brown hair, pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Her jeans were loose and faded, and her Western-cut shirt functional. Yet there was no disguising the feminine curves hiding beneath the clothing.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, noticing that Cassie observed him closely, her new puppy cradled in her arms. One of the ranch dogs had delivered a litter a few months ago, and Gavin had told her she could keep one. The pair had been inseparable ever since.

“I’m from the BLM,” Ms. Navarre said, as if that alone explained everything.

A jolt shot through Gavin. “The BLM?”

“Bureau of Land Management.” She held up the leather jacket she’d been carrying, showing him the badge pinned to the front, then handed him a business card. “Aren’t you the person who contacted us about a feral horse in the area?”

“Yes.” He glanced only briefly at the card, then spoke carefully. “I assumed from the lack of response, you folks weren’t taking me seriously.”

“Well, we are. I’m here to round up the horse and transport him to our facility in Show Low.”

Cassie’s expression brightened. “Cool.”

“I’ll need your cooperation, of course,” Ms. Navarre added. “And a stall to board my horse, if you have one available.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Navarre.” Gavin returned her card to her. He had too much invested in the horse to forfeit ownership just because some woman from the BLM showed up out of the blue. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to help her. “I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time coming here.”

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” Sage studied Gavin Powell, admittedly confused. “Is there a problem?”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“About?”

“The horse. I’m going to capture him and keep him.”

She may have only just met him, but there was no mistaking the fierce set of his jaw and the steel in his voice. Here stood a man with a mission and the determination to carry it out.

Unfortunately, he was about to come up against a brick wall.

“You can’t, Mr. Powell,” she stated firmly.

“Why not?”

“It’s against the law for anyone other than an employee of the BLM to capture a feral horse.”

“The McDowell Sonoran Preserve isn’t federal land.”

“No. But it isn’t private land, either.” She bent and placed her business card on a hand-carved pine coffee table. “And besides, the law isn’t restricted to federal land. If you capture the horse, you’d be in violation of the law and subject to fines and a possible jail sentence.”

His jaw went from being set to working furiously.

Stubborn, she concluded. Or was he angry? Another glance at him confirmed the latter.

Sage’s defenses rose. “I realize you had other plans for the horse, but you knew I was coming.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“We called. Last week.”

“I received no phone call.”

“It’s noted in the records. I don’t have the name of the individual we spoke to offhand, but I can easily obtain it if you give me a minute.”

He glanced at the girl—Cassie, wasn’t it?—and his gaze narrowed.

“Don’t look at me,” she protested, a hint of defiance in the downward turn of her mouth.

Not that Sage was good at determining ages, but Gavin Powell didn’t appear old enough to be Cassie’s father. Sage guessed him to be around her own thirty-one years. Maybe older. Rugged and tanned complexions like his could be misleading.

Broad shoulders and well-muscled forearms also spoke of a life dedicated to hard physical labor and being outdoors. She’d always found that kind of man attractive. One who rode a horse or swung a hammer or chopped trees rather than earning his pay from behind a desk.

Gavin Powell exemplified that type, with the glaring addition of a very testy and confrontational personality. Something she didn’t find attractive.

Sage stood straighter. She’d come to Powell Ranch on business, after all. Not to check out the available men.

“Is it possible someone else took the call and didn’t tell you?” she asked.

“Not likely.”

“Grandpa forgets to tell you stuff all the time,” Cassie interjected.

“Go do your homework,” Gavin told her.

“I hardly have any. I did most of it in class.”

“Now.”

“Dad!”

Her cajoling had no effect on him. At a stern “Cassie,” she exited the room, another flash of defiance in her eyes.

So, the girl was his daughter. No sooner did Sage wonder how often those exchanges happened than she reminded herself it was none of her concern.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled when his daughter had gone.

For a tiny moment, he appeared human. And vulnerable.

“I have a daughter, too,” she admitted, “though she’s only six.”

Why in the world had she told him that? She rarely discussed Isa when on the job. It was easier when dealing with obstinate or difficult individuals—an unfortunate and commonplace occurrence in her job—to keep the discussions impersonal.

She promptly brought the subject back around. “Look, Mr. Powell. I’m here to capture the horse, which can’t be allowed to wander on state and city land. I’d like your help.”

His scowl deepened. Heck, maybe it was permanent.

“To be honest,” she said, making a civil plea, “I really need it. You know this area, I don’t. And from the information you sent the BLM, you’ve clearly been tracking the horse.”

“No.” He shook his head. A lock of jet-black hair fell over his forehead. He pushed it back with an impatient swipe. “I want the mustang, Ms. Navarre. I won’t help you.”

“If you persist in capturing him yourself, I’ll report you to the authorities.”

“No kidding?” The challenge in his tone told her she would have to go that far, and perhaps further, to obtain his cooperation.

Sage released a frustrated sigh. Her tidy plan was unraveling at an alarming rate. A few days, a week at the most, was all the time she had to capture the horse. Then, as she and her boss had agreed, she’d spend her annual two weeks’ vacation in nearby Scottsdale visiting her cousin. It was the main reason she’d asked to be assigned to this case—locating and confronting her errant ex with her attorney cousin-in-law at her side.

After four years, she’d finally gotten a reliable lead on her ex’s whereabouts, and it had brought her to Mustang Village. The back child support he owed her—owed Isa—amounted to a considerable sum of money. Well worth two weeks of vacation and scrambling to rearrange both her and her daughter’s schedules.

Much as she hated admitting it, she couldn’t capture the horse without Gavin Powell’s help and his resources. Not in one week. Probably not ever.

She could try for an order, but that would require time she didn’t have. Besides, the task would go quicker and easier with his voluntary cooperation.

Sage thought fast. She was a field agent, her job was to safely capture wild horses and burros. Once in federal custody, the adoption of those horses and burros was handled by a different department. She knew a few people in that department and was confident she could pull a few strings.

“What if, in exchange for your help, I guaranteed you ownership of the horse?”

Gavin Powell studied her skeptically. “Can you do that?”

She lowered herself onto the couch, the well-worn leather cushions giving gently beneath her weight. She imagined, like the coffee table, the dated but well-constructed couch had been in the Powell family a long time.

“Can we sit a minute? I’ve had a long drive.”

He joined her with obvious reluctance and, rather than recline, sat stiffly with a closed fist resting on his knee.

She’d almost rather face a pair of flailing front hooves—something she’d done more than once in the course of her job.

“The fact is, Mr. Powell, we have trouble finding enough homes for the animals we round up. Despite the novelty of owning a feral horse or burro, most people aren’t interested in spending months and months domesticating them. Even then, some animals never truly adapt, and only a handful of the horses make decent and dependable riding stock.”

“I wouldn’t be using the horse for riding.”

Though she was curious, she didn’t ask about his intentions for the horse. “I think the BLM would be happy to have a home for the mustang and will likely just give him to you with a minimal amount of paperwork and processing.”

He nodded contemplatively.

“You’d still have to pay a fee.”

“How much?”

“I don’t know for certain. I can find out if you want. Most of the horses are adopted for a few hundred dollars. My guess is it would be something in that range.”

Another nod. Gavin Powell was clearly a man of few words.

“I have one week to round up the horse. After that, I’ll be staying in Scottsdale with relatives until the end of the month. My daughter’s there now, I dropped her off on the way.” She paused, giving herself a mental shake. Why did she feel the need to rattle off personal information? “If you don’t object, the horse can stay here with you on your ranch while I’m in Scottsdale. You’ll have a chance to observe him, work with him, see if he … meets your needs.”

She waited while he mulled over her proposition. He didn’t take long to make his decision.

“Deal.” He extended his hand.

“Good. Glad that’s resolved.”

Shaking his hand for the second time that afternoon, she tried to hide her relief. Like before, she noticed both strength and assurance in his callused fingers. Gavin Powell was definitely one of those men who didn’t make his living sitting behind a desk.

“Would you like something in writing?” She asked. “I can have the office fax—”

“Not necessary. I was raised to take someone at their word. And not to give mine unless I intend to keep it.”

She didn’t doubt that. “Then we’re in agreement.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Sage. We’re going to be working together, after all.”

“Gavin.”

She smiled.

So did he. And though reserved, it both transformed him and disarmed her. She hadn’t noticed his vivid blue eyes or the pleasingly masculine lines of his face until now.

For a moment, Sage lost track of her thoughts. Standing, she promptly gathered them.

“About that stall for my mare.”

“Sure.” He also stood. “You can pull your truck around to the stables and unload her there.”

“Any chance I can park my trailer here? My cousin’s homeowners association won’t allow me to leave it there.”

“No problem.”

They went through the back of the house rather than the front door where Sage had entered. She caught a whiff of something tantalizing when they entered the kitchen, reminding her that all she’d eaten since breakfast was a semistale leftover doughnut and a snack-size box of raisins Isa must have accidentally left in her purse.

A man stood at the stove, stirring a pot. He turned and before Gavin introduced the man, she recognized the resemblance.

“Dad, this is Sage Navarre. From the BLM. My dad, Wayne.”

“The BLM?” Confusion clouded Wayne Powell’s face, then abruptly cleared. “Oh. Yeah. I forgot. Someone called last week.”

“That’s what I heard.”

To Gavin’s credit, if he was annoyed at his father, he didn’t let on. There was no point anyway; they’d reached an agreement about the horse.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Navarre.”

“Sage,” she told Gavin’s father.

“Will you be in Mustang Valley long?”

“A week at the most.”

“We’d better tend to that mare of yours,” Gavin said, inclining his head toward the door.

Sage got the hint. Gavin didn’t wish to prolong the conversation with his father. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Powell.”

“Enjoy your stay. I hope to see you again.” He smiled, but it was mechanical and flat. Nothing like his son’s.

“I’m counting on it,” she answered cheerfully, and followed Gavin outside.

“I’ll meet you in front of the stables,” he told her.

They parted, and Sage headed toward her truck. As she drove the short distance to the stables, she caught sight of Cassie watching from the back porch, her form partially obscured by a thick wooden column.

Without thinking, Sage waved. Cassie ducked her head behind the column, then reappeared a second later, waving shyly in return.

An interesting family, Sage mused, though a little unusual. She supposed there was a lot more to them than met the eye.

Pulling up in front of the stables, she reminded herself why she was in Mustang Valley: capture the wild horse and collect four years’ worth of back child support from her ex.

Any distractions, most especially those in the form of a good-looking cowboy, were counterproductive. Not to mention inviting trouble.




Chapter Two


Gavin waited as Sage unlatched the trailer door and swung it wide. He expected the horse to bolt backward as most did after a long ride. Not so this one. The mare lifted her left rear foot and placed it gingerly down, as if not quite believing solid ground awaited. Her right rear foot followed, then the rest of her compact and sturdy body emerged inch by inch. Once standing on all fours, she turned her head with the regality of a visiting dignitary and surveyed her new surroundings.

“She’s a good-looking horse.” In fact, Gavin had never seen one with that same charcoal-gray coloring.

“Her name’s Avaro.” Sage reached under the mare’s impressively long mane to stroke her neck. “It’s Spanish for greedy. And trust me, it fits. She attacks every meal like it’s her last.”

“A mustang?”

“She was brought in on a roundup about three years ago in the Four Corners area. I had another horse at the time, a good one. But as soon as I saw Avaro, I wanted her.”

Gavin could appreciate that. He felt the same about his mustang.

“Not just because of her coat,” Sage continued, “though it’s pretty unusual.”

“She’d make a nice broodmare.” He was thinking of his own mares, the ones with mustang bloodlines.

Sage shrugged. “Maybe someday. Right now, I’m using her too much and too hard.”

“How long did it take you to break her?”

“Six months.” Sage laughed, her brown eyes filling with memories.

“That long?”

“It was weeks before she let me near her. Another month before I could put a halter on her.”

Gavin considered the information. He’d been hoping to start breeding the mustang stallion right away. Might be difficult if he couldn’t even get a halter on the horse. “Your perseverance paid off.”

“I told you, owning a feral horse isn’t easy.”

“I’m up to the task.”

She studied him with a critical eye. “I believe you are.”

The compliment, if indeed it was one, pleased him.

They started toward the stables with Sage leading Avaro, who observed everything with large intelligent eyes. It was that intelligence that had enabled her to survive by her wits in what had been a harsh and dangerous world. It was a quality he hoped to produce in his foals.

At the entrance to the stables, they heard a familiar rhythmic clinking.

“Do you think your farrier could have a look at Avaro’s right front hoof?” Sage asked. “Her shoe’s a little loose, and I don’t want any problems when we head out into the mountains.”

“That’s my brother, Ethan. As a rule, he only works on our horses, but I’m sure I could ask him to make an exception.”

“If there’s a local farrier—”

“It’s all right. Our regular guy’s usually booked several days out. We may not be able to get him here until after the weekend, and I know you don’t want to wait that long.”

“No, I don’t,” she agreed.

Gavin didn’t explain the reasons his brother only shoed their own horses. Farrier work was physically demanding and hard on Ethan’s prosthetic leg.

Fixing a single loose shoe, however, wasn’t nearly as strenuous. And like Sage, Gavin didn’t want to postpone capturing the wild mustang any longer than necessary. Business tended to slow down during the holidays. He wanted his stud and breeding operation well underway before then.

“You have a great setup,” Sage said appreciatively.

“Thanks.”

“How long has the ranch been here?”

At one time telling the history of his family’s ranch had been a source of pride. No more. Not after the past ten years. But because she was being friendly, he answered her question.

“My great-grandfather Abe Powell built the original house and stables after he moved here from Texas. According to my grandfather, he was evading the law.”

“Is it true?”

“I don’t know. But it makes for a good story.”

“When was that?”

“Right before the turn of the century. Last century. The house wasn’t much more than a shack. The stable consisted of six standing stalls and one box stall.”

“You’ve added on since then.” She smiled.

It was, Gavin observed, a nice smile. Open and honest.

“For thirty years, we had the only cattle operation in the area. Before he died, my great-grandfather was able to build the villa, the barn, the bunkhouse and expand the stables. We have thirty-two box stalls now. No standing stalls. And six pens out back along with three connecting two-acre pastures.”

Gavin stopped at an empty stall not far from where his brother worked on a large gelding. He unlatched the stall door, and Sage led her mare inside.

“My office will reimburse you the cost of boarding Avaro.”

“I’ll draw up an invoice.” He would have liked to tell her not to worry about it. But with six empty stalls, they could use the extra income.

They stood with forearms resting on the stall wall, watching Avaro acquaint herself with her new accommodations.

“With that much cattle, your family must own quite a bit of land.”

“We used to. Six hundred acres. All of Mustang Valley, which is now Mustang Village.”

“Wow!”

He swore he could see the wheels in her head spinning as she mentally calculated the huge chunk of change they must have received when they sold the land.

What she didn’t know was that every dime had been spent on his mother’s heart transplant and medical care. So much money. Sadly, it had bought her only another few months of life before her body rejected the replacement heart, and she died of severe infection. Even if there had been money for a second transplant, the doctors weren’t able to save her.

“We kept about thirty acres.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t move,” Sage said.

“Powell Ranch is my home. My family’s lived here for four generations.” He went to bed every night praying there would be a fifth. “And while most of the land is developed, the ranch is still the heart of this valley.”

She looked at him. Really looked at him. Intently. As if she was trying to read what lay hidden beneath the surface.

Gavin turned away. He didn’t want Sage, or anyone for that matter, seeing how deeply affected he was by his loss.

WITH AVARO SETTLED AND snacking hungrily on some grain, Gavin took Sage over to meet his brother. Two of the ranch’s several dogs lay curled together by the tack room door, their heads resting on their paws and their wagging tails stirring up small dust clouds in the dirt.

Ethan slowly straightened, letting go of the gelding’s hoof he’d had braced between his knees. “Hi, again.” Setting his rasp on top of his toolbox, he removed his gloves and stuffed them in the waistband of his chaps.

“Ethan, this is Sage Navarre,” Gavin said. “She’s with the BLM.”

“Really?” He wiped the back of his hand across his brow, which had risen in surprise. “Is this about the mustang?”

“Yes.”

Ethan’s glance cut to Gavin.

“Sage is here to capture the mustang, and we’re going to help her.”

“We are?”

“She says the BLM will allow me to purchase him and bypass the usual adoption process.”

“That’s great.” Ethan’s features relaxed into a grin. “Glad to hear it.”

“Her mare has a loose shoe. Any chance you can check it out when you’re done with Baldy here?”

“Happy to.” Ethan stepped forward, his leg wobbling for a second before he steadied it.

“No rush,” Gavin said.

Ethan responded to the concern in Gavin’s voice. “I’ll handle it.” To Sage, he said, “How long you staying?”

They chatted amicably for a few minutes. Well, Sage and Ethan chatted amicably. Gavin mostly listened. And observed. While he’d struck a deal with Sage, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure of her. Then again, to be honest, he was betting his future stud and breeding operation on his new partner, a man he didn’t know a whole lot better than her.

Gavin wished he weren’t so desperate. Normally, he proceeded far more cautiously.

“You ready to park your trailer?” he asked during a break in the conversation.

After a word of advice about Avaro’s tendency to nip, Sage followed Gavin.

Outside the stables, she paused. “Which way?”

“I’ll ride with you. It’ll be easier than trying to give you directions.”

The inside of her truck was messy. Crayons, coloring books, dolls, a stuffed cat and a collection of tiny farm animals occupied the passenger seat. A notebook, travel log, empty paper cup, a CD case and a partially folded map filled the middle. Unidentifiable trash littered the floor.

“Sorry about the mess,” Sage said, sweeping her daughter’s toys into the pile of her things. “Isa gets bored on road trips. I’m sure you understand.”

“Not really.”

Her apologetic smile fell.

Ignoring the well-deserved stab of guilt, Gavin climbed into the passenger seat, his feet inadvertently kicking the trash. He’d already told Sage more about his family than he intended. Cassie was off-limits.

“That way,” he said, and pointed, acutely aware of the tension his remark had created.

Sage said nothing, leaving Gavin to stew silently. How could he explain to Sage, a virtual stranger, that he’d only seen his daughter a few times while she was growing up? That money for plane trips to Connecticut was hard to spare. In December, he and Cassie’s mother would revisit the full custody issue. If Cassie wasn’t happy, wasn’t adjusting to school, if her and Gavin’s relationship didn’t improve, she might be returning to Connecticut. Given the current state of his family’s finances, he had no idea when he’d be able to swing another visit.

Not a day passed Gavin didn’t stare his many failures as a father square in the face and wish circumstances were different.

Picking up the stuffed cat, he set it on top of the coloring book. “Cassie’s kind of a neat freak. Always has been.”

His explanation appeared to appease Sage for her features softened. “You don’t know how lucky you are.”

Except he did know. This six-month trial he had with Cassie had been an unexpected gift. The result of her mother’s recent remarriage and pregnancy. He hated that he hadn’t immediately formed a close bond with Cassie, one like Sage and her daughter obviously shared. And he worried constantly that he’d lose Cassie before he ever really had her.

“Pull into the barn,” he told Sage. “That way, you can park in the shade.”

“Wow. You really did have some cattle operation.” Her gaze roamed the interior of the large barn. “I’m impressed.”

“Most of the equipment’s gone.” They’d sold it off piece by piece over the years.

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t take much to start up again.” Sage rotated the crank on the hitch, lowering the trailer’s front end.

Gavin went around to the rear of the trailer and placed the blocks of wood she’d given him behind the tires. “My plans are to turn it into a mare motel.”

“Really?” He could see she’d deduced his plans for the wild mustang. “It would make a good one.”

Gavin wondered if he should be less leery of Sage. She seemed genuinely nice and willing to make their agreement work.

“What time tomorrow are we starting?” She shut and locked the trailer’s storage compartment.

“We can’t head out until Saturday.”

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t expecting you. My day’s full.”

“Okay.” Disappointment showed in her face.

“I do have a free hour in the afternoon. Maybe you can come by. We’ll go over the maps and logs and decide on the best area to start looking.”

“Sounds good. Any chance I can bring my daughter? She loves horses. I keep promising to buy her a pony of her own and teach her to ride one of these days but just haven’t had the time.”

“We’ve got a dead broke horse we use for beginner students. She can ride him if she wants.” Gavin had no idea why he made the offer.

“Thank you. That’s very nice of you.” Her smile returned, brighter than before.

Maybe that was why.

As they were climbing back into the truck, her cell phone rang. She lifted it out of the cup holder and, with only a cursory glance at the screen, answered.

“Hi. I just finished parking my trailer.” A long pause followed during which she listened intently, her mouth pursed in concentration. “Yeah, hold on a second.” She dug through the pile in the middle of the seat, locating a notebook. “Go ahead.” She wrote something down that appeared to be directions, though Gavin couldn’t see clearly from where he sat in the passenger seat. “Great. Meet you in fifteen minutes.”

Snapping the notebook closed, she started the truck. “I’m sorry to be so abrupt, but I have to leave.”

“No problem. Three o’clock tomorrow okay? To meet here,” he added when she didn’t immediately respond.

“Oh, yeah.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Three o’clock.”

After she dropped Gavin off in front of the house, he stood for a moment watching her truck bump down the long sloping driveway leading to the main road.

Apparently she knew someone in Mustang Village.

He didn’t like that his curiosity was piqued. He liked the anticipation he felt at seeing her again tomorrow even less.

SAGE REACHED THE BASE of the mountain and merged with the light traffic traveling east. A quarter mile up the road, she spotted a stone sign marking the main entrance to Mustang Village. Next to the sign stood a life-size and very realistic bronze statue of a rearing horse.

Just inside the entrance was a modest shopping plaza with retail stores, a bank, fresh food market, urgent care center and two restaurants, one fast-food, one sit-down. Situated behind the shopping plaza was a commercial building with offices on the first floor and apartments on the second. Stretching beyond that were acres and acres of houses as far as she could see.

What had it been like when all this was once an endless rolling valley at the base of a scenic mountain range? She could almost envision it in her mind’s eye.

Gavin’s family had probably made a killing when they sold the land, but Sage wasn’t sure she could have traded glorious and primitive desert for a sea of commercial and residential development.

A second sign directed her to the visitors’ center. She turned into the parking lot, shut off the ignition and, as instructed, waited for her cousin’s husband.

As the minutes dragged by, Sage’s nervousness increased. She tried distracting herself by observing life at midafternoon in Mustang Village.

It was, she had to agree, a unique and almost genius blending of country life and town life. Cars drove by at a very safe fifteen miles per hour while an empty school bus returned from delivering children home. Exercise enthusiasts walked or jogged or biked along the sidewalks, and people on horseback rode the designated bridle paths networking the community. As the warning signs posted everywhere stated, horses had the right of way in Mustang Village.

Finally, just when Sage was ready to get out of her truck and start pacing, her cousin’s husband arrived, his SUV slipping into the space beside hers.

She greeted him with a relieved hug. He’d been at work when she stopped by their house earlier to drop off Isa, so she’d yet to see him.

“Thank you, Roberto,” she told him when they broke apart. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

“Happy to help, primita.”

Calling her “little cousin” always made Sage smile. At five-eight, he was no more than an inch taller than her. When she wore boots, like today, they stood nose to nose.

Not so with Gavin Powell. Even in boots, she’d had to tilt her head back in order to meet those vivid blue eyes of his.

Why had she thought of him all of a sudden?

“We’d better get a move on,” Roberto said. “Before he figures out you’re in the area and takes off.”

“You have the paperwork?” she asked, hopping in the passenger side of his SUV.

“Right here.” Roberto tapped the front of his suit jacket.

He’d used his firm’s resources to locate Sage’s ex—again. This time, she assured herself, would be different. Dan wouldn’t be able to disappear before they had a chance to personally serve him with the child support demand papers.

She marveled at his ability to jump from place to place, always one step ahead of her. As a horse trainer, a good one, he easily found work all over the Southwest. He was also often paid in cash or by personal check, which had made garnishing his wages nearly impossible.

To her knowledge, this was the first time he’d returned to Arizona in two years.

“He sure picked a nice spot,” she observed, taking in the attractive houses with their tidy front yards, each landscaped with natural desert fauna to conserve water. The homes sat on three-quarter acre lots, with small corrals and shaded pens visible in the spacious backyards.

“Very nice,” Roberto concurred. “And Mustang Village is teeming with horse people, a lot of them with surplus money and a burning desire for their kids to have the best-trained horses. Dan’s probably doing pretty well for himself.”

“He always has.” That was something Sage didn’t understand. Her ex could afford the child support. He just refused to pay it.

Another thing Sage didn’t understand was his disinterest in seeing Isa. How could a father who’d been devoted to his daughter for the first two years of her life not want to see her? Spend time with her? Be a vital part of her growing up?

“We’re here,” Roberto said, and maneuvered the SUV into the driveway of a large Santa Fe–style house.

“Do you think he’s home?” Sage asked, her worry spiking at the noticeable absence of a vehicle in the driveway.

Roberto grinned confidently. “Only one way to find out.”

At Dan’s front door, Roberto rung the bell.

Sage read the hand-painted stone plaque hanging beside the door.

The Rivera Family.

His last name, penned with large, bold strokes, reminded her that she and Dan had never married. She’d wanted to, had brought up the subject frequently during their three years together, but Dan had always manufactured some excuse.

Roberto rang the doorbell again. Sage rubbed her sweaty palms on the front of her jeans.

The Rivera Family.

Suddenly it struck her. Family! As in wife and children.

Before her thought had a chance to fully develop, the door swung open, and Dan appeared in the frame, his expectant expression dissolving into a frown the instant he spotted her.

“What do you want, Sage?”

“To make sure you receive a copy of this.” Roberto attempted to hand Dan the child support demand letter. “Since you haven’t responded to the nine previous ones mailed to you.”

He drew back, refusing to accept the papers. “Who the hell are you?”

“Ms. Navarre’s attorney.”

“Get off my property.”

“You owe my client four years of back child support. You can’t get out of it just because—”

“Dan, who is it?” A young, strikingly beautiful and very pregnant woman appeared behind Dan, a toddler boy balanced on her hip.

“It’s okay, Maria,” he said crossly. “I have this handled.”

She backed away, a mixture of confusion and concern on her face, then disappeared into the house’s dim interior.

The sudden realization that Dan had committed to another woman when he’d refused to commit to her stung bitterly. It shouldn’t, Sage told herself. She was over him. Past that. Moved on. And yet, her heart broke like a dam, releasing fresh pain.

Just then, Dan’s cell phone rang. Angling his body away from them, he answered it, speaking in clipped, short sentences. “Hello. Yeah. Not today. Look, Gavin, I’m busy right now. Call you later.”

Alarm shot through Sage, leaving her unsteady.

Was that Gavin Powell calling Dan?

She took a deep breath, only vaguely aware of Roberto whispering to her that they weren’t leaving until they’d served Dan with the papers.

Slowly, rationality returned. Gavin had no idea Dan was Isa’s father. He owned the local riding stables, and Dan was a horse trainer. It stood to reason they knew each other and possibly had dealings together. Clients in common.

Dan disconnected and, pocketing his cell phone, turned back around. “As I was saying—”

“As I was saying …” Rober to tried again to give Dan the papers.

He swatted them away. “You’re not getting anything from me without proof.”

“Proof of what, Dan?” Sage demanded, her voice shaking from residual shock and rising anger.

“Paternity. How do I even know Isa’s mine?”

Sage reeled as if physically struck. “Of course she’s yours,” she sputtered.

“I’m not so sure. You were still seeing that old boyfriend of yours.”

“We worked together. That’s all.”

“Yeah? Well, get the kid tested. Then we’ll talk.” With that, Dan slammed the door in Sage’s and Roberto’s faces.




Chapter Three


Gavin opened his front door to a miniature version of Sage, complete with boots, jeans and a floppy cowboy hat.

“Hi. I’m Isa.” She displayed a huge smile, not the least bit embarrassed by her two missing front teeth.

“I’m Gavin. Come on in.” He stepped aside, and she jumped over the threshold into the living room, landing with both feet planted firmly on a colorful braided area rug.

“Do you have a last name?”

“Don’t you?”

“Of course.” She giggled. “What’s yours?”

“Powell. Why?”

“My mom says I have to call adults by their last name.” She assessed him with dark brown eyes in much the same manner her mother had yesterday. “Thank you for having me here today, Mr. Powell.”

Her speech sounded rehearsed, probably Sage’s doing, but Gage was impressed nonetheless.

He’d once visited Cassie when she was about this age. He and Isa had already exchanged more words in two minutes than he and Cassie had during their first hour together.

In all fairness to his daughter, she hadn’t been meeting an acquaintance of her mother. The man standing before her was her father, a stranger she didn’t remember from his last visit three years earlier.

The horse figurine he’d brought as a gift hadn’t broken the ice. How was he to know she liked Barbie dolls and dressing up? Their trip to the park had been strained, as were the next three days. How hard it must have been for Cassie to be thrust into the care of a man she barely knew and told, “This is your father.”

Love wasn’t something that could be manufactured on the spot just because of a biological connection.

The worst moment of that trip was when they were saying goodbye. To his astonishment, Cassie hugged him fiercely and, in a teary voice, asked him not to go. The only genuine moment they’d shared and it had to be when he was getting into the rental car and heading to the airport.

His answer, he couldn’t remember it now, had just made her cry.

His next visit three years later was even more strained. And this last time, when he’d picked her up at the airport for her first-ever trip to Arizona, she’d been sullen rather than shy. Nothing much had changed in the four months since.

He must, he told himself, be patient with her. Their dys-functionality hadn’t happened overnight. It wouldn’t be resolved quickly, either.

“Where’s your mom?” he asked Isa.

“Right here.” Sage rushed through the still-open door, pocketing her cell phone and looking completely frazzled. Her high, elegant cheekbones were flushed a vivid crimson, and several tendrils of hair hung haphazardly around her face as if pulled loose by anxious fingers. “I told you to wait for me, mija.”

“Yes, but—” Isa’s eyes widened with delight. “You have a puppy!” She dropped to her knees and opened her arms.

Cassie’s puppy went right to her, drawn like iron particles to a magnet, his entire hind end shaking along with his tail. She gathered him into her lap, giggling as he covered her chin with kisses.

“What’s his name?”

“Blue.”

“But he’s brown and black.”

“His eyes are blue.”

Isa peered into the puppy’s face, earning herself more kisses.

“Sorry we’re late.” Sage shut the door behind her. “I got tied up.”

“It happens.” Normally, Gavin was intolerant of tardiness. He blamed running a business with strict schedules. But something had obviously thrown Sage for a loop.

She nodded and, pushing one of the flyaway tendrils from her face, offered a pale shadow of the smile that had come so easily and naturally yesterday.

“You okay?” Gavin asked.

“Yeah. Just having a killer day.”

He thought she looked more distraught and upset than overwhelmed. “Can I get you and Isa something? A soda or ice water?”

“Water would be great.” She sighed as if she’d been waiting all day for just such an offer.

At that moment, Cassie poked her head into the living room. “Have you seen Blue?”

“In here. Cassie, you remember Ms. Navarre. And this is her daughter, Isa.”

He’d told Cassie the reason for Sage’s visit during dinner last evening and about their plans to capture the mustang. While she’d tried to act as disinterested as she did about everything that concerned him or the ranch—with the sole exception of riding and Blue—he noticed how intently she’d listened to both him and the questions Ethan posed.

Unfortunately, she was still smarting from him asking her to leave him and Sage alone the previous day, and, as a result, talking to him only when necessary.

Okay, he’d handled the situation wrong by embarrassing her in front of company. But how was he to know? He was still at the beginning of a very long and very high learning curve. They both were. Though, as the adult in the relationship, he should be doing better.

Maybe an apology would go over better than an explanation. He’d try later. What could it hurt?

Cassie approached the little girl, and Gavin worried that she might not want someone else playing with her puppy. His concern faded when Cassie knelt down beside Isa and patted the puppy along with her.

“Hi. I’m Cassie. How old are you?”

“Six,” Isa muttered under her breath, shrinking slightly.

Strange, Gavin thought. The little girl hadn’t been the least bit bashful with him.

Cassie was undeterred. “I’m twelve. Do you like to ride?”

“Uh-huh.”

Blue rolled onto his back, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, completely lost in puppy ecstasy.

“I have a horse my dad gave me. He’s a registered paint.”

Isa ah’d appreciatively and blurted, “Your dad said I could ride one of your horses.”

“He did?” Cassie raised her gaze to Gavin.

“I thought later I’d let her give old Chico a test-drive.”

“I’ll take her.” A spark lit Cassie’s eyes, the first one Gavin had seen in a while.

For a moment, he was struck speechless. “Well …” While confident in her riding abilities, allowing her to be responsible for a six-year-old was an entirely different matter.

But there was that spark in her eyes.

“Come on, Dad. We could have an earthquake, and old Chico would just stand there.”

“It’s up to Isa’s mom.”

“Oh, please, Mommy.” Isa was on her feet and throwing her arms around Sage’s waist.

“I don’t know. Isa has only ever ridden ponies.”

“Cassie’s very responsible.” Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Was that actually a smile his daughter directed at him? “If it would make you feel better, we can work on the back patio. You’ll be able to see the arena from there. And it’s true. Chico would just stand there in an earthquake.”

The lines of tension creasing Sage’s brow lessened marginally. “All right,” she relented after a lengthy pause.

“Can Blue come?” Isa darted back to Cassie.

“Naturally.” Cassie scooped up the puppy. “He goes everywhere with me. Even sleeps with me.”

The chronic pressure in Gavin’s chest eased by a fraction. He was pretty certain something good had just happened between him and Cassie, but he couldn’t say what exactly.

Sage stepped forward after the girls left. “We should probably get started …”

“Sorry.” He tilted his head toward the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll get you that water.” It wasn’t until they started walking that he noticed she carried a portfolio. “What did you bring?”

“Reports on a few of our recent roundup campaigns. I thought maybe we could talk a little about the techniques we’re going to use.”

Gavin wasn’t sure what techniques the BLM used to round up large numbers of horses on federal land but doubted they’d work on a single horse roaming an urban preserve.

After retrieving his files on the mustang and filling two large plastic tumblers with ice and water, he took Sage outside. Just as he was closing the door behind them, he caught sight of his dad coming into the kitchen. He’d probably been waiting in his room for them to leave so he could start supper.

Another family member Gavin didn’t relate to and didn’t know what to do about. His father’s depression seemed to worsen every year. Short of bringing back his mother, Gavin was out of ideas on how to cure it. Talking got nowhere, and his dad flat out refused to see a counselor, join a support group or consult with his doctor.

Ethan had no better luck than Gavin did. But then, Ethan tried less. Not that Gavin blamed him. His brother had his own problems to deal with since his discharge from the service. Their sister, Sierra, was the only one who could bring their dad out of his shell. But she lived in San Francisco and had come home only once during the past couple years. Something else that depressed their dad.

Outside, in the balmy weather, Gavin tried to put his concerns aside. It was a beautiful day, he was making plans to capture the wild mustang and Cassie wasn’t mad at him anymore. At least for the moment.

It could be, and more often than not was, worse.

“THIS WAY.”

Gavin escorted Sage to the large patio on the backside of the house. There, they sat at the picnic table where he and his family ate when they took their meals outside. Midafternoon sun filtered through the spindly branches of a sprawling paloverde that was easily as old as his father. Potted cacti and succulents, some of them planted by his mother, nestled along the base of the low stucco wall.

“It’s very pretty here,” Sage commented, glancing around before opening her portfolio and withdrawing a stack of papers. “The view’s spectacular.”

She was right. The McDowell Mountains and, in the far distance, Pinnacle Peak, provided a stunning backdrop.

Gavin saw the view a dozen times a day, yet he never tired of it.

He’d once felt that way about the view from the front courtyard, too, which now looked out onto the whole of Mustang Village.

“Do you think the girls are okay?” Sage peered over her shoulder toward the stables.

“If they don’t come out in a few minutes, we can check on them.”

“All right.” She began rifling through her portfolio. A small sound of frustration escaped her lips.

Gavin waited, his doubts growing. Yesterday, she’d impressed him with her confidence, friendliness and intelligence. Today, she was like an entirely different person. Distracted, unfocused and disorganized.

What had happened to her between then and now?

“Here they are.” With noticeable relief, she handed Gavin a trio of photographs. “These are from a roundup I participated in this past spring on the Navajo Nation outside of Winslow. We brought in over eighty head of horses and seven burros.”

He examined the photos, two of which were aerial shots taken from the inside of what he assumed was a helicopter. The herd of horses, bunched together in a long line, resembled a rushing river as they galloped over a rocky rise and down the other side.

It must have been a majestic and thrilling sight. He could almost hear the pounding of their hooves and feel the ground shaking beneath him as they thundered past. When his great-grandfather had first settled in these parts, mustangs not unlike these had made the valley their home. To have seen these horses on the Navajo Nation would have been like witnessing a living and breathing piece of history.

He flipped to the next picture, and his heart sank low in his chest. In this one, taken from the ground, the horses had been crowded into corrals and were milling restlessly. A few bit or kicked their neighbors. A mare tried valiantly to protect her young foal.

“It’s not right, putting the horses through this.” Gavin hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until Sage answered him.

“I know it looks bad. But if we hadn’t removed the horses, most of them would have died. Rainfall last winter was half of our annual average. All the area’s water sources had dried up.”

He studied the photo closer, noting the poor condition of the animals. Underweight, undersized and lackluster, pest-infected coats. It was fortunate the BLM had stepped in when they had. Still, removing animals from their natural environment didn’t sit well with him.

“Was there no other way to help them?”

“We tried filling tanks with water. The horses were skittish and refused to drink.”

Hearing the girls’ animated chatter, Gavin and Sage looked up.

Cassie led Chico from the stables to the small corral beside the arena where Ethan was teaching a class of about a dozen beginner students. They trotted in a tight figure-eight pattern as their parents watched, either relaxing in lawn chairs or standing along the fence.

Isa sat astride Chico, her fists clutching the reins, her feet barely reaching the stirrups of Cassie’s youth saddle. Rocking from side to side as he walked, the old horse clopped slowly along, his hips appearing more prominent because of his swayed back. Blue brought up the rear, tripping over his front paws in his attempt to keep up.

Sage watched them, her expression intent.

“Ethan learned to ride on Chico,” Gavin told her.

She didn’t appear to hear him.

“Isa will be fine.”

He was about to repeat himself when Sage suddenly turned around and blinked as if orienting herself. Wherever she’d been the past minute was a million miles from the ranch.

“You want to postpone this?” Gavin’s patience had worn thin. According to Sage, they only had a week to capture the mustang, and he resented wasting time.

“No.” Picking through the papers again, she removed a typewritten report and passed it to him. “Not everyone agrees with the bureau’s program of capturing feral mustangs and burros. And I won’t argue with you, it’s an imperfect solution. But I also believe we’re doing the right thing. Saving and preserving a part of America’s heritage, not destroying it.” Her voice rang with unabashed passion.

It was something Gavin understood. He believed in the same thing himself.

After skimming the report, he opened his file and took out the map he used to mark the mustang’s territory. Spreading it open on the table, he pointed to the X’s.

“These are the various places I’ve spotted the mustang in the last four months. You can see, he keeps to the same territory.”

“Which is near the ranch.”

“Within three miles, though he’s come as close as half a mile. I imagine he’s drawn to our horses.”

She murmured her agreement. “Where does he get his water?”

Gavin was glad her attention had ceased wandering. “There could be springs, but this is desert country. I’ve never seen any water in the mountains except after heavy rainfall, which, as you said earlier, has been less than average of late. I’m pretty certain he drinks at the golf course.” Gavin showed her the location of the country club on the map.

“You’re kidding!”

“They maintain a small reservoir on the back end to feed the ponds on the course and for water in case of a fire. The maintenance people have reported all kinds of wild animals drinking there. Javelina, bobcats, coyotes and even a few deer.”

Sage perked up. “Do you own any ATVs?”

“Two. Why?”

“We can use them to round up the horse.”

“No, we can’t. Motorized vehicles are prohibited on the preserve. And even if they weren’t, they make too much noise. He’d hear us coming a mile away and take off.”

“How else are we going to capture him? We have to be able to herd him in the direction we want.”

“Like my grandfather and great-grandfather did. On horseback.”

She shook her head. “That won’t work. It’ll take too long.”

Her complete dismissal annoyed Gavin. “It’s that or on mountain bikes.”

“I hope you’re joking.”

“Look, Sage. I’m not the BLM. I don’t have helicopters at my disposal.”

“Do you know someone with a small plane?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t enlist their help.”

“I’ll contact my office. Maybe they can obtain permission from the state for us to use your ATVs.”

So much for her little speech about protecting and preserving America’s heritage.

“Forget it. The only way we’re going after this horse is the same way ranchers have for generations. With ropes and on horseback.”

Their gazes connected and held fast. Hers had cooled considerably but revealed little. Gavin was certain there was no mistaking what was going through his mind.

Sage broke the silence. “How exactly are you proposing we go about it?”

“Have you ever heard of a Judas horse?”

“Yes. But I’ve never seen that technique put to effective use.”

“There’s a box canyon in the south end of the preserve. Here.” Gavin tapped the map with his index finger. “We’ll construct a small pen at the base of the canyon and put a couple of our mares in there. Preferably ones in heat.”

“How will you construct the pen? Won’t you need to haul fencing in?”

“We’ll run a rope line. Use any natural materials in the area. We can pack in food and water for the mares, enough to last overnight. If all goes well, the next morning the mustang will be in the canyon with the mares. There’s only one way in and out.” He circled the narrow opening to the canyon.

“How many of us will there be?”

“Me, you, Ethan, Conner, he’s a local cowboy who helps us out part-time, and possibly my partner.” Gavin wished he could include his dad but the older man hadn’t ridden in years.

Sage returned to the map. “So, we could position two riders at the entrance of the canyon, preventing the mustang’s escape, and the other three could trap and rope him.”

“That’s the plan.”

“It might work,” she relented with a shrug.

“It will work.”

“You’re still counting heavily on luck.”

“He’ll come for the mares. I’m sure of it.”

Isa’s laughter reached them across the open area, once again diverting Sage’s attention.

Cassie jogged alongside Chico, urging the old horse into a slow trot that delighted his rider. It pleased Gavin to see his daughter taking her responsibility seriously.

Sage’s expression, however, immediately tensed.

She was, he decided, a worrywart where her daughter was concerned. He hoped that didn’t cause any problems for them. The risk of danger existed with any trip into the mountains. Greater when a wild and unpredictable animal was involved. The last thing they needed was for one of them to be overly preoccupied. That was how accidents happened.

“What time do we leave tomorrow?” she asked, facing him.

“Right after breakfast. I was thinking seven. It’ll be plenty light by then.”

“Do you need any help getting ready?”

There was a lot of work involved. Supplies and equipment to assemble and pack. “If you’re offering, I accept. But I have a four o’clock lesson and won’t be ready to start until after that. Maybe you and your daughter can stay for dinner.”

Gavin could use the help, it was true. But after Sage’s odd behavior today, he’d grown skeptical and really wanted a chance to observe her in action. He had too much riding on capturing the mustang to take chances with a loose cannon.

“I don’t want to impose,” she said.

“My dad always fixes enough for an army.”

Sage glanced at the girls again, her brow creasing with indecision. “I … guess so. Let me make a phone call.”

“My lesson doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.” He refolded the map and put it back in his file. “How ’bout I meet you in the stables after you make your call.”

“Fine.” Sage also collected her materials.

As they stood, a pickup truck rolled through the open area in front of the stables at a speed slightly faster than Gavin would have preferred. Rather than pull behind the stables and park in the area reserved for visitors, the driver came to a dust-billowing stop in front of the hitching rail.

If it were anyone else, Gavin would have a stern word with them. In this case, he simply ground his teeth.

Dan Rivera didn’t think rules—any rules, not just those at Powell Ranch—applied to him. It came from having a very elevated opinion of himself and his abilities. On the other hand, he was a good horse trainer and brought several new customers to the ranch. He was also an astute businessman and had helped Gavin immensely.

So, though it annoyed him, he let the speeding and parking violations slide.

Sage had taken out her cell phone and was punching in numbers. When she caught sight of Dan emerging from his truck, she stopped cold and swore under her breath.

“Do you know him?” Gavin asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Her hands shaking, she pocketed her cell without completing the call.

Dan headed in the direction of the parents at the fence, several of whom were his clients.

Sage’s eyes widened with fright as she tracked his every step. “I need to get my daughter.” She started out at a brisk walk.

“What’s wrong?” Gavin lengthened his strides to catch up.

“I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “We can’t stay for dinner after all.”

With that, she broke into a fast run.

SAGE’S HEART BEAT WITH such force she thought it might shatter. Her ex was on a collision course with Isa, and unless Sage sprouted wings, she wasn’t going to get there ahead of him.

Dammit! She didn’t want her daughter meeting her father for the first time in four years with no preparation.

Her fault. All her fault. She’d known Gavin had dealings with Dan. She should have at least anticipated the possibility of running into him at the ranch.

“Sage!” Gavin appeared alongside her just as Dan was approaching Isa.

Suddenly, as if a button had been pushed, everything slowed to a crawl and each detail crystalized into sharp focus. Sage watched, horrified and helpless, as Isa trotted along the corral fence within a few feet of Dan. He stared ahead at the parents watching Ethan’s class. Then all at once, Sage’s worst fears were realized. Dan turned his head and looked directly at Isa.

Oh, God! Please don’t let him say something hurtful.

Sage stumbled to a stop. She tried to breathe but her fire-filled lungs wouldn’t expand.

The moment—which seemed to last an eternity—abruptly passed.

Dan continued walking without so much as breaking a single step.

He hadn’t recognized his own daughter!

“You bastard!” Sage’s previously stalled breath came in ragged bursts.

“What the hell’s going on?”

She’d forgotten about Gavin. “Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing.”

Sit. She needed to sit before her knees gave out. “It’s personal.”

“If you have issues with Dan Rivera, I want to know.”

Sage had to get out of sight. Immediately. Dan may not have recognized Isa, but if he saw her, he’d put two and two together.

She spun on her heels and hurried to the stables, praying Dan wouldn’t decide to go in there.

Gavin was right behind her. The moment they were inside, he reached for her arm.

“Sage.”

“Can you go ask Cassie to bring Isa here?”

“Not until you tell me—”

“It’s none of your business.”

His intense blue eyes drilled into her. Held her in place. “If this involves Dan, it most certainly is my business.”

“Why?” she snapped. “Because he’s the local horse trainer?”

“Because he’s my partner in the stud and breeding business. The one I’m starting with the mustang. And he’s also my financial backing.”

Shaken to her core, she retreated a step. “No, no, no. We’re not working together.” She shook her head vehemently. “The deal’s off.”

“The hell it is.” His voice rose. “You agreed.”

Her reply was cut short by Cassie leading the old horse into the stables, Isa still sitting astride him. Both the girls’ faces registered alarm.

“Dad? What’s going on?”




Chapter Four


Sage was still shaking. She only half heard the exchange between Gavin and his daughter, too caught up in her own whirling emotions.

“Everything’s fine,” he answered Cassie’s question with admirable calm.

“It didn’t look fine.” She faced him, her puppy tucked beneath one arm, the old horse’s reins wrapped in the fingers of her free hand. “It looked like you were arguing.”

“We were just talking.”

“Yeah.” Cassie’s narrowed gaze pinged between Sage and her father.

Fortunately, Isa was oblivious to everyone and everything around her save the horse.

“Chico, you’re such a good boy.” She leaned forward over the saddle horn and gave the horse’s neck an affectionate squeeze. He lived up to his reputation by bearing the attention with gentlemanly grace. “Did you see me riding, Mama?”

“I did, mija.” Sage went over and placed a hand on Isa’s knee. “You were awesome.”

The minute Dan paid the back child support—and he would, she’d see to it—she was going to buy Isa that pony. She should have purchased one sooner, but the cost of keeping and feeding a second horse was more than she could comfortably afford on her income.

Damn Dan again for denying Isa the money that was rightfully hers. And damn him for putting both her and Sage through the ordeal of a paternity test—though she suspected it was just another postponement ploy.

Last evening, her cousin and Roberto had tried convincing her that a positive paternity test would only strengthen her case against Dan. They were right, of course. The knowledge, however, didn’t lessen her angst.

“Are you sure?” Cassie demanded, returning Sage to the present.

“Ms. Navarre and I were just discussing the best method to go after the mustang.”

“Loudly.”

Sage bit back a groan. Gavin talked to his daughter as if she was Isa’s age. Did he not see how astute Cassie was and that very little got past her?

The sound of distant voices reminded Sage of her and Isa’s precarious situation. She had to remove them from sight before Dan noticed them. She began looking for another way out of the stables.

“You okay, Mama?”

“Just a little tired.” She sent Isa a reassuring smile. In truth, Sage was perspiring profusely, probably from the giant invisible fist squeezing her insides.

She still couldn’t believe Dan had failed to recognize his own daughter. Granted, children changed a lot between two and six. But even so …

“If it’s none of my business,” Cassie grumbled, “say so.”

Gavin quirked an eyebrow. “If I do, will you get mad?”

“Honestly, Dad.” She expelled an irritated sigh.

Sage didn’t blame her. She’d tried reasoning with Gavin, too, and it had gotten her nowhere. How he managed not to chase away every customer on the place with his confounding obstinance was a mystery.

“Fine.” Cassie deposited Blue on the ground by her feet. He immediately stumbled over to Gavin and launched an assault on his boot, gnawing the rounded toe. Gavin bent and scratched the puppy behind the ears.

Interesting, thought Sage. He was tolerant of small, defenseless dogs, passionate about the plight of wild horses and hadn’t mentioned her meltdown to his daughter.

Which meant he wasn’t all bad.

Figures.

If only he weren’t in partnership with her ex.

That was one shortcoming Sage couldn’t overlook or dismiss regardless of how good-looking she found him.

Fresh thoughts of Dan squashed whatever fleeting and irrational attraction she felt toward Gavin. Her glance strayed yet again to the stable entrance, and her ears strained for the sound of his truck starting up and leaving.

No such luck.

Sage began to fidget, her mind searching for an excuse to leave—if not the ranch, then at least the immediate vicinity.

Gavin beat her to the punch. “Cassie, why don’t you take Isa inside for a little while?”




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