Taming Kate

Chapter One

Present day

Whispering Creek Ranch, Diamond River, Montana

“Easy there, girl. Nice and easy.” Peter stepped cautiously into the paddock, moving more warily than a hunter on a deer’s trail. The chestnut mare watched him, her ears almost flattened against her head, the whites of her large brown eyes showing. A chilly breeze gusted around them and the horse nickered agitatedly, dancing a few sidesteps as Peter made his way toward her.

Damn! The poor thing was so damaged from the trailer accident that even the wind caused her to shy. The cold October air chilled his ears, but he’d left his hat off in case something like this happened. A hat flying through the air would probably make the creature bolt and crash the fence. He didn’t dare try to raise the collar of his barn coat to protect his raw neck and ears.

“Please be careful, Peter,” a female voice whispered from behind him. Peter didn’t answer his sister. “Shhh.” The syllable slid through his teeth, directed as much toward Marcy as to the frightened horse.

The quarter horse of a wealthy man’s daughter, the mare was a classic case. Her trailer had overturned in a car accident, and the trauma had rendered her unrideable. The girl’s parents were willing to pay whatever it took to reunite horse and owner because the girl refused to ride any other horse in her father’s stable. One more step put Peter a mere three feet from the horse. So far, so good. Her ears flickered back and forth, no longer flat against her head. A good sign, but he wasn’t there yet. Slowly, with utmost caution, he held out a gloved hand. Tucked in his palm were several sugar lumps. He knew that after three weeks of daily sessions in the paddock, she should be about ready to accept the offering. If she did, the next step would be getting her used to being groomed again and then tacked up each day. The mare nickered again, tossing her head several times as Peter’s hand neared her muzzle. But she didn’t back away.

“That’s a good girl, Gracie,” Peter crooned in a low, soothing tone. He kept up with a string of nonsense syllables when he saw the mare relax visibly in direct response. When his instinct told him the moment was right, he flattened his palm, bringing it closer to the horse’s large nostrils. As he’d intended, she caught a whiff of the sugar, snuffled a few seconds more at the offering, then took the cubes up from the thick rawhide glove with a flap of muzzle and teeth.

Peter smiled and tenderly ran his palm down the mare’s white blaze. This was the first human contact she’d accepted willingly since the accident. As the horse crunched her sugar cubes, Peter took the lead line he’d had curled in his coat pocket and clipped it to her halter. “Come on, girl,” he crooned again, placing one hand flat on her neck. He clucked to her and, to his relief, she let him lead her out of the paddock, toward the stable.

As Marcy opened the gate to the paddock, a large grin spread across her delicate features. She’d watched him every afternoon as he’d worked with this difficult case.

“Hey there, Mr. Horse Whisperer.” She made an effort to speak softly so as not to spook the horse.

Peter gave her an answering smile but didn’t speak, as his concentration was still fully focused on getting the recovering mare into her stall without incident. Today’s session had been a success, but the animal was far from out of the woods. He led Gracie into the stable and then into her stall, where a flake of hay waited for her. Crooning softly to the mare, he unclipped the lead and moved to the stall entrance, keeping a gloved hand on her at all times.

He backed out into the main aisle and closed the stall door. Marcy was waiting there for him with his hat. “Thought you might want this,” she said as he took it from her. “Your ears are redder than a fire hydrant.”

Peter chuckled. “Would they were as hot.” He plunked his hat down, covering his frozen ears. “Thanks for all your help, Marcy.”

“No problem. Come up to the house. I’ll put on some coffee.”

“Sounds great.”

Peter scanned the stable before following his sister to the farmhouse, making sure everything was running smoothly. Their stable hands, Roy and Craig, were out with the cattle today, so he and Marcy were running the place themselves. The kitchen was cozy and warm and smelled invitingly of brewing coffee. Peter pulled off his hat, coat, and gloves, hanging them on hooks by the door while Marcy cut a slice of homemade apple pie for her brother. “That little girl is going to see you as a hero,” she said as she put the plate on the table in front of Peter. Peter nodded his thanks for the pie and raked a large hand through his hair before picking up his fork. “I don’t know about that. I’m nobody’s hero. Just doing my job.”

Marcy gave a strange laugh. “Oh? And were you just ‘doing your job’ when you saved my ass after Rob ran off, leaving me with a huge debt, a little boy, and a ranch to run?”

He shrugged. “You’re my baby sister and Will is my nephew. I love you. Now please let me eat in peace.”

Marcy smiled and poured a mug of fresh coffee, setting it down at her brother’s place. Just then the phone rang. “I’ll get it.”

Peter sipped his coffee, washing down Marcy’s incredible apple pie, half-listening to the conversation. He could tell by her tone the speaker wasn’t someone they knew.

“Just a moment, please.” With a thumb over the speaker holes, she brought the cordless receiver over to the table, a puzzled expression on her face. “There’s a Carl Rossi on the phone for you. He says it’s very important.”

Peter nodded. “All right.” He took the receiver from her hand. The name sounded vaguely familiar. “Hello? This is Peter Manning.”

“Mr. Manning, Carl Rossi here. How are you?”

“Can’t complain. And yourself?”

“Well, fair to middling, actually. I was hoping I could take a few minutes of your time.”

“I’ve got a few minutes.”

The man cleared his throat. “I was ... um ... hoping you could help me. I have a filly that needs your ... special skills. She’s quite wild and no one else can handle her. I ... I’ve tried everything else to ... help her, but nothing has worked. I’ve read the newspaper articles in recent years about you and the miraculous work you do. I pray you can help me.”

Just then, the light dawned. Carl Rossi was a wealthy rancher whose place was about a half-day’s drive from his ranch. He’d heard the name bandied about by fellow ranchers.

“I appreciate that, Mr. Rossi, but I’m not in the business of taming wild creatures. I heal injured ones who were already tame.”

Rossi chuckled, though the sound was pained rather than mirthful. “I understand. You said that in one of the articles.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I suppose I expressed myself incorrectly. This one’s mistrusting and quick to lash out, though she’s been around people her whole life. Would that qualify?”

Peter drummed his fingertips on the table. Something in the man’s voice made his stomach flutter. Perhaps it was the tone of desperation. Such an emotion always made him anxious, a sad remnant of his days of mourning his father’s death and then Tori’s.

“It might. Look, if you can trailer her here, she can stay in the stable, and I’ll do what I can for her.” He paused. “This isn’t a wild one that’s been roped off the plains?” He refused to tame captured horses.

“I assure you that’s not the case. However, I can’t…trailer her as you requested. That’s just not possible. I’d need you to come here and see her on her own territory.”

Peter shifted impatiently in his seat. “Listen, Rossi, if you’re the same one I’ve heard mention of, then your place is half a day’s drive from mine. I have a ranch full of cattle and horses to run. I can’t just absent myself because it’s inconvenient for you to bring her here.”

“Mr. Manning, please.” The plea in Rossi’s voice startled him. “This is really an exceptional case. I promise you, I’ll pay handsomely. If you’ll help me with this one, you’ll be well rewarded. You won’t have to worry about finances for some time to come.”

“I don’t have to worry about finances now.” That much was true. Peter’s ancestors had established this homestead almost two hundred years earlier, and generations of Mannings, including him, had built Whispering Creek Ranch into a successful cattle operation. Even with paying off his brother-in-law’s debt, he and Marcy still had a sizeable nest egg to pad them.

“Please.” The man was persistent. “I haven’t got much time. I really need your help.”

Peter sighed and glanced at Marcy, who now sat across from him with her coffee. She raised her eyebrows questioningly. Something in the man’s voice tugged at his heart. “All right. I’ll come tomorrow, provided I have enough hands to hold down this place in my absence.”

“Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Manning.”

“I can be there tomorrow afternoon.”

Rossi cleared his throat again. “I cannot thank you enough. Do you know how to get here?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Very well. I’ll leave my number with you.” Peter motioned to Marcy for a pencil and pad, which she quickly retrieved. He jotted the number as Rossi said it, then ended the call. Heaving a sigh, Peter put the phone on the table and took a swig of rapidly cooling coffee.

“What was that about, Pete?” She got up and brought the carafe over, warming his cup.

“Oh, everyone and his mother knows I’m a soft-hearted sucker.” Peter took a large forkful of pie.

Marcy chuckled. “I swear, I didn’t breathe a word to anyone.”

Peter felt a smile tug at his lips. “Word gets around anyway.”

“Wait a sec. Did I hear you say you’re going there tomorrow?”

“You heard correctly.”

“Oh!” Marcy sounded crushed and plunked into her chair, her pretty face crumpled with disappointment. “Don’t you remember? Tomorrow night’s your blind date with Charlene.”

“Oh, geez. I forgot. Anyway, I’ve known Charlene for fifteen years, since she started cutting your hair. It’s not exactly a blind date.”

“But it’s a first date. Finally, after all this time, you agreed to let me set you up with someone, and now you can’t make it. Charlene will be crushed. She says you’re the best-looking man for miles around. Perhaps in all of Montana.”

Peter chuckled. “I don’t know about the best-looking thing, but I’ve seen how Charlene operates. All of Diamond River knows. She won’t be dateless long.”

Marcy stared at him. “If you feel that way about her, why did you agree to take her out?”

“Because, Marcy, I had a few weak moments when I thought I might actually want to settle down. I’ve come to my senses since then.” He looked at her, his expression forbidding her to mention Tori.

Marcy looked down, the unspoken subject hanging in the air between them. “I know how you’ve suffered, Peter. But you’re only thirty-five. You don’t have to be alone the rest of your life. One of these days, you’re going to meet someone who’ll

blindside you. You won’t know what hit you, and you won’t be able to stay away from her!”

“I haven’t met her yet. And I’ll be damned if she’ll pin me down that easily.”

“Ooh, you are so arrogant sometimes, Peter.” She sighed and looked down. “Don’t you think Tori would want you to love again?”

He scraped the fork across the empty plate, picking up every last crumb of pie, ignoring mention of Tori.

“I’m sorry,” Marcy murmured, obviously realizing she’d overstepped an invisible boundary. “I just want you to be happy. I can’t help but feel that, one of these days, love is going to get a hold of you again.”

He put down the fork and stood up slowly, hitching his belt. “Well, Marcy, I now consider myself told. What’s more, when this great event occurs, I promise, you’ll be the first to know.”

Marcy pursed her lips. “I’d better be.”

Peter drained the last of his coffee. “And so you shall. I’m a man of my word.”

Marcy’s eyes softened as she watched her brother go to the door and put on his hat and coat. “I know,” she said softly.