She noticed him wince and caught his arm.“You were never supposed to learn to become a real cowboy!I thought you could pick up a few things and fake it.”
He leaned down and retrieved his muddy hat, obviously a loan from Benny.The mud-spattered jeans and shirt looked like Benny’s, too, and the worn boots.Mud-spattered or clean, Benny had never looked so good in these clothes.Quinn might be a lousy rider, but he was born to dress in snug jeans and broad-shouldered Western shirts.
He settled the hat on his head and glanced at her.“There’s something I forgot to tell you.Faking it isn’t my style.”He tipped his hat.“Excuse me, ma’am.”There was a definite drawl in his voice.“I need to go catch your spoiled-rotten horse.”
As he ambled away, Jo stared at him with her mouth open.“What’s with the drawl?You’re from New York!New Yorkers don’t drawl.”
Quinn laughed.“I bit my tongue on that last go-round.Drawling feels better than talking fast.”
“And where’d you get that bowlegged walk?That’s not your normal walk, either.”
He kept going, headed for the dark bay standing in a corner of the corral.“I always wondered why cowboys walk this way.After banging around in that saddle a few times, I get it.”
“Quinn, stop this!”
He kept walking.
Jo stalked to Fred.“We have to make him quit.”
“Now, Jo, have you ever known a cowboy you could talk out of something once he’s set his mind to it?”
“Read my lips—he’s not a cowboy.”
Fred shrugged, “I wouldn’t be so sure.I thought he shouldn’t ride this morning on account of the rain.But he wanted to.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.He just asked if rain would be bad for the horse.”
“But you should have talked him out of riding Hyper.”
“I tried.He said if he could ride Hyper he’d know he’d really learned how to ride.Said he’d keep at it until he could stay on.And look at that.Damned if he don’t have old Hyper figured out.”
Jo gazed across the corral.Hyper started out with his usual crow hops, but Quinn gripped with his thighs and held on.Jo could tell that he was gripping with his thighs because of the way the wet denim moved.Not that she was looking at his thighs on purpose.And she was definitely not looking at the spot between his thighs, the place that had taken so much punishment from the saddle this morning.He’d probably appreciate an ice pack for that area.She cringed as Quinn’s butt came partially off the saddle and slammed down again.
But, God, he had a great butt.And he was keeping it mostly in the saddle this time.He dug his heels into Hyper’s ribs, and the gelding took off at a lope.Quinn’s hat flew off, and for a second Jo thought he would tumble into the mud again, but he corrected his position by using those spectacular thigh muscles.
As Hyper and Quinn rounded the curve of the corral, Quinn let out a whoop.“Coming through,” he yelled.“I still can’t steer worth a damn!”
Jo scrambled through the fence barely ahead of the thundering hooves.
“Yee-haw!”Quinn shouted as Hyper made another circuit, flinging mud everywhere.
Jo turned to stare at Fred.“Yee-haw?”
“We’ll work on that,” Fred said.“He probably thinks that’s what you’re supposed to say at a time like this.Can’t expect him to get everything right at first.He’s from New York.”
Jo gazed at Quinn sailing around the corral in the rain, a big old grin on his face.“Let me get this straight.This whole circus this morning was Quinn’s idea, not yours?”
“I’ve seen how you look at him, Jo.I wouldn’t deliberately do the boy wrong.”
Jo pulled her slicker closer around her.“I don’t look at him any certain way.”
“Okay.Whatever you say.And he don’t look at you no certain way, either.I’m an old coot and I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Jo sighed.“You sound like Emmy Lou.”
“Well, she’s an old lady, just like I’m an old coot.Our eyesight’s no good, and besides, we can’t remember what it’s like to have them feelings, so don’t pay us no mind.”
