To Tame a Wild Filly by Jeannene Walker

Chapter 1

Luke Franklin rolled his shoulders and readjusted his seat on his mount as he guided it toward the main compound of Spring River Ranch.  The last two days did little to ease the tension crawling up his back.  Usually coming home was the best part of herd duty.  Today was another story.  Today some stranger awaited him. He wasn’t looking forward to making her acquaintance in the least.

A hot bath and one of Cookie’s steaks with biscuits and a cup of decent coffee would put him right.  As right as he could be considering.  Waves of raucous laughter met him as he past the main house.  Luke stopped short and zeroed in on the sounds, his eyes narrowing as he made out a large crowd of ranch hands collected at the South Corral. His lips thinned at the sight.  There was no call for a gathering this early in the day when dozens of chores still needed tending.  He moved his mount to the fringes for closer inspection.

His gaze fixed on the crowd, he swung from the saddle and tied off his horse.

“What the hell is going on around here?” No one acknowledged him, rising his ire another notch.

He shouldered his way through the crowd, men backing out of his way when they realized who he was, all giving him guilty looks as he passed by.  Luke focused his gaze at the center of the corral to find a figure on board the worst horse in his barn, ol Thunder Bolt.

“That fool is crazy.  Get him off that damned horse before he kills himself.” The order was directed to any hand, but no one jumped in to accommodate.

Luke climbed the corral rails to be better seen.  If his day wasn’t already a loss, this sure as hell wasn’t making it any better.  No sooner had swung his leg over the top rail, when he finally managed a better look at the rider.  It was no one he had seen on the ranch before and it wasn’t one of his hands either.  He narrowed his eyes and fear clenched at his chest. From the curves over that body and the obvious riding apparel indicated that was no man.

It was woman.  There were no women on this ranch.

Bending down to the nearest man, Luke grabbed a handful of shirt and pulled him close. Through clenched teeth he ground out, pointing at the figure on the prancing horse, “Tell me now, who the hell that is, Emit.  And then explain why for Chrissake she is on Thunder Bolt of all things.”

The young man, no older than twenty, shrugged and stuttered out an answer.  “Don’t know her name.  But we’re just watching the little lady ride ole Thunder!”  His eyes widened and he fought to stifle a snicker.

That only infuriated Luke further.

“Doesn’t she know that horse is still wild?”  Luke’s fingers retracted slowly from Emit’s shirt as he turned to toward the exhibition playing out before his eyes.

“Naw.   When Simmons found out she wanted a horse to ride he asked her if she wanted to try her skills on ole Thunder and she said that’d be just fine.”  He gave Luke a friendly nudge with his elbow.

Luke stiffened at the contact, narrowing his eyes he barked out, “So she didn’t ask for that horse?” This was getting better every minute.

“No.  She just took the one he gave her.  That female maybe a bit green, but she said she can ride.” A wayward chuckle escaped Emit’s maw. “She’s holding her own.”

Anger burned in Luke’s chest to match the burn rising in his face. Fists clenched at his side he hoped he wouldn’t get the urge to swing, because this piled on top of the other only made him want to hit something.

After leaping down from his perch, Luke sifted through the small crowd as the horse beneath the slight figure began to prance.  He knew Thunder’s habits too well.  The prancing was a prelude to her next maneuver – bucking.  He had ridden her too often not to recognize all the signs.  Dread clenched at his chest, at the obvious outcome of this fiasco.

Sure enough.  Thunder Bolt eased her head between her legs and arched her back.  Luke noticed the woman hunker down in her seat and grab the horn with her right hand after tightening her hold on the reins with her left hand.  She could read the signs better than he gave her credit.

The horse turned, giving Luke a good look at the hapless female on board.  From beneath the brim of her hat he could make out an oval face and honey colored hair. But her head remained bent shielding her eyes from him.

Thunder Bolt dipped ever so slightly, her legs bent to spring.  The woman lifted her head and a cornflower blue gaze, laden with fear, riveted Luke to the spot.   His breath caught in his throat at the glimpse of the angel on the devil of that horse. An instinct the likes he’d never experienced roared through him. All he wanted to do was help her, but it was more than that, he wanted to rescue her, protect her.  That horse was set to blow and she was on for the ride.  Thunder sprang into the air the next instant, carrying the small body with it.

The jolt her gaze gave him finally wore away enough for Luke to leap through the crowd of men, his body parting them like the Red Sea as he rushed to her aid.

“Grab that horse!” he yelled, sprinting in where no man ventured, but forced to keep a healthy distance.  Her one arm gripped the saddle horn and the other flayed wildly in the air as it tried to regain a hold on the leather rein flapping wildly in space.  The fabric of her split skirt flapped with each jarring jolt when the horse’s feet pounded against the earth.  In the fray her hat flew off, loosening honeyed strands from the ribbon at the back of her neck.

“Whose idea was this anyway?”  He dared get only so close.  He watched in horror as Thunder Bolt sprang into the air again and again, carrying the woman with her and loosening her grip with every jarring jolt.

“Sam toss me a rope. Don’t stand there like a stump, for Crissake.  Wake up, man!” He sidestepped a wayward stomp as he leaned out to snag the incoming rope. Luke shaped it in to a lasso and began to swing, round and round above his head with the mare’s head in his sight.

The little woman didn’t utter a sound during the whole ordeal, not a scream or a grunt.  She fastened her fear crazed gaze to the back of the mare’s neck and followed her movements with as much tenacity as any bronco busting cow hand. Each time the animal soared into the air to land with shuddering jolts, her eyes widened and the space between her seat and the saddle expanded. The poor thing had no recourse, but to loosen her grip and finally sail over the mare’s head, straight into the hard ground.

Luke held his breath as she landed in a crumpled heap, motionless in the dust.  “Somebody grab that damned horse!” As he rushed to the bundle of limbs and fabric sprawled across the ground.  “Who the hell is this anyway?”

He knelt next to her.  Her closed eyes gave the false impression of sleep, the brown lashes resting against her pale cheeks. She didn’t move.

“Why Mr. Luke, that there’s your new wife.”

Luke recognized his black smith Horace’s distinctive Kentucky drawl.

Blood drained from his face at the stark realization.

His wife!

Damn, even Horace was more informed than he. Luke wanted to wipe the smirk off his face with that last remark.

His planned absence seemed to have backfired on him.  Sending Matt to stand as his proxy at his wedding had been a good idea at the time.  It gave him time to mull his father’s ultimatum over before meeting his new wife face to face.  He had no choice to go through with it if he wanted to keep the ranch, but he would be damned if he would relay any willing nature on his part by meeting her and marrying her in person.  Luke had to admit. he feared she’d be as homely as any home grown spinster, but this frail thing was far from plain.  She was down-right … beautiful. Damned gutsy on top of that.

He scooped her off the ground, cradling her tenderly against his chest. She barely weighed as much as a new calf for land’s sake.

“Get out of my way.” Luke barreled through the gawking men.  “This is no laughing matter you oafs.  Get back to work.”

He almost set her back down to wipe the looks off their faces.  He wanted someone to pay for this stupid mistake. Whoever had come up with this hair brained idea had some explaining to do.

“Cookie!”  He called out as he approached the front porch.  “Cookie! Dammit , open the front door!”

“Hold your horses for Pete’s sake. I’m a coming, I’m a comin.”  The old man who cooked every meal on the ranch, both in the kitchen and on the trail, hobbled through the screen door to the porch. “What’s happened?” His jaw went slack as he caught sight at the bundle draped across Luke’s arm. His rheumy eyes narrowed as he glanced at Luke. “What did you do to  the Missus?”

Luke ignored the old man’s question and customary glare.

“Just get me some cool water and a rag.  She’s out cold.”  He shoved past the gaping cook and into the house.

At a loss as to which room Cookie had placed her in, Luke headed straight to his own room.  She needed a bed, not the stiff cushions of the leather couch.  This frail thing required care and attention.  He laid her gently across the soft mattress of his bed to assure her comfort.

“Mr. Luke,” Cookie called from down the hall.  “Where are you?”

Luke stepped outside the door.  “Here.”  Where else would he be for Christssake?

Tipping his head, Cookie balanced the water in his knurled hands and hobbled into the room behind him.

“She all right?” He set the basin of water and rag on the marble topped table.

“I don’t know.  She hit her head damned hard.” Luke snatched the rag from the table and dipped it in water, wringing it straight away.  “Those fools let her ride Thunder Bolt.”

“Dang it, those knuckle heads.  Someone needs horsewhipped, Mr. Luke.  They can’t get away with a prank like this.”

“Yeah, well.”  Luke ducked his head to hide the burn engulfing his cheeks.  Little did Cookie know this fiasco was of Luke’s own making. If he hadn’t regarded his nuptials with such callous disrespect, his attitude wouldn’t have translated to his men.

“For Christssake. Why would Simmons put her on that damned horse?” he mused.  Luke studied the delicate creature so helpless before him.  Her spray of honeyed curls brushed against freckle dusted cheeks.

He almost missed the roll of Cookie’s eyes and the arched brow over his right eye.

Luke dabbed at her forehead and face.

“What’d you say her name was?”

This time there was no mistaking the rolled eyes, but the older man only pressed his lips together and glared at him.

“I haven’t even met her yet, old man.” His father may have said her name once in that damned conversation before he took off.

“And whose fault is that?”

Luke glared at him from under his brow.  “Her name, Cookie.”

“It’s Rose.”

“Rose.” Luke searched her angelic features as he wiped dirt from her cheeks. The name suited her. “Rose, wake up.”  He patted her hand.  Frail fingers lay lifeless in his hand. It was a wonder she wasn’t busted up in a hundred pieces.

Luke’s breath hitched as he inspected the beauty before him. This was all his fault.  He was the one to leave her unattended and alone. He scrubbed his hand over his face.  She could die and it would be all because of him. That would be dandy.  Jared Franklin would have just cause to yank the ranch right out from under him then.  His condition to this union was plain and simple – he had to produce an heir or Luke would lose any rights to the ranch.  After seeing this little woman in action, he didn’t think that would be much of a problem. From the way she hung on to that bronc, she wasn’t your ordinary, come as you please, female.  She had gumption and he wanted to kick himself for his stupidity over the past three days.  He wanted to get to know her.  He wanted Rose to know him.  Oh damn.  Something inside of him swelled and made a huge lump in his throat.  She couldn’t die on him, just couldn’t.

He began a physical inspection of her.  Her breathing seemed regular, but the jacket she wore was confining.  He peeled it off her, her body limp in his arms as he did.  Cookie popped back for a second, shooting Luke another “you’re in the shit-house” look.  Luke ignored his presence and laid the jacket on the bed post.

Closer inspection led him to believe she couldn’t possibly breathe with all that clothing.  He took the liberty of unbuttoning the buttons of her blouse at her throat and the next two.  Creamy skin appeared from beneath each opened button.  She wasn’t awake and Rose was still enticing.  He jerked his gaze from the enticement to focus on the matter at hand.

“Rose, wake up, please.” Not a twitch or a flutter of her honey brown lashes.  Only the regular rise and fall of her chest. He raked his hand through his hair in frustration and prayed she’d wake up.  It would take two days, maybe a day and a half if they were lucky, to get a doctor out here. By then she could be dead.  The thought sent a shiver of dread through him.  She couldn’t die.  He hadn’t had a chance to get to know her.

Luke encased her hand in his and rubbed warmth into her fingers.

“Mr. Luke, I’ll sit with her.” Cookie interjected, popping his head through the door one more time.  “You have things that need tending.  She shouldn’t be left alone after such a fall.”

“Go about your business, Cookie.  I’ll watch over her.”

Something in his chest tightened.  Wasn’t it his job to watch over her?  Forget the fact he came into this marriage so begrudgingly.  She didn’t even know who he was and he had failed her already.  She could be dead, if not severely injured because he was such a selfish son of bitch.

Luke paced at the window hoping the motion would still the buzz of his nerves.  His gaze studied every inch of her.  A steady rhythm dominated her breathing, but her eyes didn’t flutter, nor did she move a single limb.

How had he missed this little thing in all his visits to town?  She looked like an angel, her golden hair splayed across the pillows.  Warm brown lashes shadowed the delicate oval of her face and an impish upturned nose gave her features a rounded angelic appearance.  Her bow shaped mouth of perfect proportions tempted him.   Such simple beauty was a rare find.  He had never seen a creature like this, and Luke was no stranger to women and their varying shapes and sizes.

His gaze swept the length of her again, lingering at certain places. Her cotton blouse did nothing to hide the soft swell of her breasts and the tight waist of her skirt gave her hips and enticing flare.  He may have restrained his hands from contact, but his mind went farther than it should have.  Blood rushed to his groin and he bit back a low growl.  The woman wasn’t even awake and she aroused him.

What the hell. She was certainly one good looking woman, but he hadn’t fallen off the potato truck when it came to women.  She was a looker, but he reserved judgment until she was fully awake. She could turn out to be a witch. Jared stipulated children in this union.  It looked as though making the union would prove pleasant for him at least.

What a stupid fool he was.  Had he really planned to avoid her?  For how long?  His father had stipulated pretty concretely what was expected so who was he fooling by his cruel example?

Damn, he’d turned in to exactly the thing he hated – an uncaring, heartless tyrant.  He scrubbed a hand down his face.  He was turning into his father and today it almost cost him the life of his…wife.

★★★★

Rose’s floated in a tub of water, ungrounded and strange.  Her head swirled in circles behind her closed eyes.  It ached as well.  She couldn’t place where she was.  She couldn’t remember what she was doing or how she got there.  It was like she was a disembodied person with no past or present.

Her eyes fluttered opened.  Light blinded her.  She lay on a bed, but the furniture was heavier and nothing was in its place.  Through her haze she felt the presence of someone else.  She narrowed her eyes to focus on the dark shape in front of her.  A tilt of her head gave her a better view of a man.  His broad shoulders were unmistakable against the light.   A mass of unruly hair and angled features were all she could make of his face.  He was a silhouette against the radiant sunlight pouring through the window.  Fisted hands rested on his hips.  Even in the shadow, Rose recognized a raw strength in him, a brawny power.

Her hand raised to inspect the painful spot on the back of her head. “Oh-h,” she moaned, touching the tender spot.

The figure at the window turned, reaching the bedside in two easy strides.

“Rose.” His husky voice was almost a whisper.  “You’re awake.”  He lowered himself into the chair next to her.  “How are you feeling?”

Rose sucked in a breath at the imposing figure next to her.  Words failed to form in her brain.  The stranger next to her seemed to suck all the air from the room. His dark eyes fixed on her, holding her captive and the hard lines of his face, a stern jaw and high cheek bones, had softened into concern.  The edges of his mouth turned up to a welcoming smile. He was very male and very intensely good looking.

Who was he?  She had her suspicions, but she wasn’t letting him off easy by any means.

“Where am I?” One elbow tucked under her side, she lifted herself for a better look around.

“You’re at Spring River,” the man replied, leaning in, a hint of relief in his gaze.

“I know that.” A terse intensity in her voice. “Where am I at the ranch?  This isn’t my room.”

“You’re in my room,” the man answered, straightening.  His dark eyes swept over her in as close a caress as Rose had ever felt.  She wanted to melt like butter under that gaze.  She sank into the pillows as a shiver of excitement trickled over the surface of her skin.

“Who are you, sir?” If this was indeed her husband, she hoped to relay her disapproval of his neglect.  Rose eased herself up further, intent on his answer. At the same moment her free hand fluttered to her chest only to find the top of her blouse unbuttoned.  The bared skin against her hand sent a wave of mortification coursing through her.  Before the man could answer her first question, she cried out, “Oh, my!  I’m not dressed, sir. Oh, my!”

Rose sat up in the bed, intent on retreating to her own room.

The man’s large hand descended on her shoulder and pressed her back into the downy pillows.

“Stay put.  You knocked your head pretty hard with that fall.”

She stared up at him, her eyes wide.  A cleft in his strong chin and the tangle of his dark hair held a familiarity to her, but the indecency of her undress unnerved her and all she wished was to be alone.

“Please, who are you?”  Her wide eyes took in the enormity of the man next to her.

He pushed a hand through his hair and released a guilt ridden sigh.

“I’m Luke Franklin, Rose.”  His gaze flickered from hers to examine his boots.  She detected an uneasiness about him.  She hoped it was regret.

“You!” Rose sank further into the pillows, the only place to go, his body barring that side of the bed from any escape. Regarding the state of her undress, her assumption of Luke Franklin was not far off the mark.  He really was a lecherous womanizer.  That was only a small mark, though next to the coward of a man who didn’t have the decency to show up to his own wedding.

“Why am I here?” Her eyes roved the room.

Another look of embarrassment on his part. “I didn’t know which was your room so I brought you here to my room.”

A wave of near panic vibrated through her.  “I would like to go to my room, if you don’t mind?”  Rose swung her legs over the side of the bed, forcing Luke’s formidable figure to step back.  She had no intention of sharing any space with the man.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Rose.”  His out stretched arms stopped short of touching her.

“I’m not staying in here with YOU.”  Her father may have forced her into this God forsaken marriage, but she had no intention of sharing a bed with the man, regardless of his magnetism.

The room swayed the instant she righted herself.  Reaching for the mattress for support, she pushed back the discomfort and the queasy feeling in her stomach, determined not to remain in the same room with Luke Franklin.

The sudden movement was her undoing, the room grew dim and she toppled straight into the man’s arms.  He had strong arms.  Her fingers gripped against chords of muscle as he wrapped both arms around her and lifted her back on to the bed.  Reluctant to admit it, she liked the feel of his arms and the security they offered.

“I told you I didn’t think that was such a good idea.” His husky voice spoke close to her ear, the brush of his breath inciting prickles over the surface of her skin.  “You aren’t in any shape to go anywhere.  Just rest for a while.”  He laid her down against the pile of soft pillows.

Rose had no intention of remaining anywhere near Luke Franklin.  He was too…too… She didn’t even know him and he was already too virile, too much of a…man.

“Just take me to my room,” she said weakly.

“I’m not moving you anywhere.  You’re in no shape to be moved.  You need to rest.”  He straightened and sank back into the chair, his gaze pinning her to the bed.  His eyes were as black as she remembered. He was as handsome as she remembered, more so now.  But where the boy stood a few inches shorter and his shoulders and hips narrower, even in youth a formidable force, Luke the man filled the room with his commanding presence and a raw power.

Rose glared at him, dredging up anger as it burned in her chest.  “And you intend to stay as my guard?”

“I’m not your guard.  I intend to stay as your husband.”  His voice held a tone of respect, almost worship as he said the words.  He didn’t have the right to utter the word in that manner.

“My husband?” Rose spat at him.  “My husband?”

She wanted to run from the room, but she could barely move.  Her fisted hands vibrated at her sides.

“In the two days I’ve been here the only person I know is Cookie.  My husband sent a friend to stand in his place at our wedding.  My husband never had the courtesy to inform me he regretted being unable to greet his wife in her new home.”  She edged up on one elbow to square her gaze at those obsidian eyes. “Or that he might be away on business.  He never left a word of welcome on my behalf.  He abandoned me in a strange place.  I have a husband in title only.”  Her voice lowered to almost a whisper and she sank back into the pillows.  “My only regret is the shame I must be to him.”

Those last words stung her heart, for she knew she was not his choice.  There had been a time, long, long ago when he would have been her choice. Very long ago.

A pained grimace shrouded his face as he rose to his full height.

Luke leaned closer, searching out her hand.  Work roughened fingers wrapped around hers, sending warmth up her arm.  “It wasn’t my intent for any of this to happen.”

Dark brows knit together as he straightened and squared his shoulders.  He threw her a dark look and walked to the door.

Turning to face her, his tone strained, “If you need anything, Cookie will get it for you.”

Rose eased back against the pillow and watched his broad shoulders disappear behind the door as he closed it behind him.

The blank wood of the door stared back at her.  He walked out on her. He left her there, just as he did that morning in the church and these past two days.  Through her haze, Rose’s chest tightened and the sting of tears threatened at her eyes.  No crying.  She wouldn’t give Luke Franklin so much as one tear. And as far as bothering him, God forbid.  She’d stay put until she could walk on her own.