Aiming for the Cowboy. Mary Leo
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rude. She instantly feigned a demure pose and blinked her eyes several times.
To Colt’s complete dismay he realized she thought he was flirting with her. And to compound matters, it was at that exact moment when Helen glanced back at Lana, then back at Colt. He caught the snide look on her face just before she said something to his boys, stood and scooted Joey into her seat, then headed for the exit.
Colt didn’t want her to go, not without talking to her about her baby. Plus, he really didn’t want her to think there was anything between him and Lana but air.
“No! Helen, wait!” he shouted, and that was all it took for his boys to go tearing after her at the exact moment the piglets took off on the track.
What happened next was something the townsfolk would talk about for years to come.
In Joey’s enthusiasm to catch up with Helen, he jumped the barrier to try to stop her. His foot must have gotten tangled up on the piglet-size metal fence, and just as Bob Beboar, who happened to be in the lead, along with Stephanie Porkman on his tail, rounded the turn, the barrier flopped down and all four piglets ran off in different directions into the stunned crowd.
Soon piglet mayhem erupted while Colt tried to catch his boys. The entire throng of people went completely hog wild, with adults, kids, pigs and the Swinemaster trying their darnedest to catch the little critters before they disrupted the entire festival.
Within minutes, Colt managed to grab a hold of Bob Beboar in one arm and catch Joey around the waist in his other arm. He couldn’t tell which squirmed more, the piggy or his son, both equally angry for the sudden loss of freedom. Gavin and Buddy were too slippery for him, and disappeared chasing down the piglets with Helen in hot pursuit.
“I’ll catch the boys,” she yelled back at Colt.
Lana, on the other hand, managed to remain unruffled, that is until Colt walked up to her as she stood chatting with one of the pig wranglers who’d stayed behind, undoubtedly, to collect the returned piglets and to protect the other sixteen swine from escaping in the confusion.
“Thanks,” the wrangler said, tipping his black hat in Colt’s direction then grabbing hold of the wiggling piglet with both hands.
Soon Olive Oinkly was returned, along with Josephine Hoglarson, and the pandemonium seemed to be dying down in their immediate area. But Colt could hear screams and roars coming from the booths where the crafts and various vintners displayed their finest.
With judicious hesitation, Colt put Joey down, but held on to the back of his cotton tee.
“Let me go, Papa. I want to help catch the last piggy.”
“You’ll stay right here with me, son. You’ve done more than your share of hell-raising for one day. Besides, don’t you think you owe this man an apology for letting his pigs get away?”
Joey looked up at Colt, sincerity shining on his cherub face. “I didn’t mean to let them get away, Papa. Honest, I didn’t. My foot got caught.”
The wrangler, a big guy in his early twenties, his blond curly hair popping out in various angles from under his hat, stooped down to Joey’s level. “You’re more of a handful than these baby pigs. Don’t you know better than to jump on the track when the piglets are running? They could get hurt.”
“Yes, sir,” Joey said, not looking at the wrangler, who had already carefully placed Bob Beboar back in his cage.
Colt gave Joey a little nudge.
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t hurt those little piggies for anything.” Big tears streamed down Joey’s cheeks. He wiped them away with the backs of his hands. It near about broke Colt’s heart, but he knew his son had to learn these lessons the hard way.
“Tell you what,” the wrangler said. “I so appreciate you telling me that you’re sorry that you can help me make sure all the cages are locked tight. That is, if your dad says it’s okay.”
Joey looked up at Colt, the last of his tears still glistening on his rosy cheeks. “Go on, son, but you mind him.”
“I will, Papa. I promise.”
They didn’t go far, only a few feet in front of Colt, when Lana stepped into his view.
“Colt, honey, as much as I’d like to get to know you better—” she stepped in closer “—and I’d really like to get to know you—” she slid her hands up his chest and leaned in even closer “—it couldn’t possibly work between us, sweetheart. I don’t do children well, and I especially couldn’t do your children. Unless, of course, you agree to send them off to school somewhere. I’d be good with that, especially if you wore that nose to bed. It could be kind of kinky.”
She moaned sensually, and Colt coughed loudly. He gently removed her hands from his chest. “As much as your offer intrigues me, I’m a package deal.”
“Shame, we could’ve had so much fun!”
She stepped away as Helen walked up with Buddy and Gavin in tow. Buddy carried a complaining, wiggly Stephanie Porkman, as Lana’s eyes lit up on Helen’s round stomach.
AS IF HELEN hadn’t juggled enough of her emotions dealing with Jenny Pickens, now she had to accept Lana Thomson, of all people. Not only was Lana the biggest flirt in the county, and possibly the entire state, it was a well-known fact that Lana had a zero tolerance for children. But there she was stroking Colt’s chest while she laid it on as thick as molasses.
The boys went off with the wrangler, leaving Helen alone with Colt and Lana. Not a good situation. Helen wanted out of there.
Now.
“So the rumors were true,” Lana told her as she took a step away from Colt. “That’s why you didn’t stay on the circuit. Shame. From what I hear you were close this time. But I understand.” She tried her best to feign a mask of compassion, but Helen knew it was all a show for Colt’s sake. “Heaven knows it’s a tough and lonely road. It takes stamina and grit to be a champion like me. Two attributes not many women share.”
She stuck her thumb behind her gold championship buckle, in case Helen missed the large trophy holding up her designer jeans. Lana had won it for women’s barrel racing a few years ago, and ever since then she took great joy in rubbing Helen’s nose in it every time they met.
She and Helen had both started out as barrel racers when they were kids. They even attended the M & M Riding School together, but once Helen saw her first female mounted shooter she was smitten and left barrel racing to pursue her real passion, cowboy mounted shooting. Lana had tried to convince her to stay, telling her cowboy mounted shooting was too tough to ever master, but once Helen made up her mind on something, there was no turning back. Even the Miltons, the couple who owned the riding school, had tried to convince her not to do it, but as time went on, they both came around and gave her the training she needed to succeed.
Problem was, now that she was having a baby, that cowboy mounted shooting trophy buckle seemed next to impossible to ever win, which played right into Lana’s nasty little one-upmanship.
“The only thing you share with other women is their men. Now if you two will excuse me, I’ve got to get back to my cousin’s ranch.”
Helen made a move to leave but Colt stopped her. “Wait. Please don’t go. Lana was just leaving. Weren’t you, Lana?”
Lana shrugged. “I guess so, but Colt, honey, if you ever change your mind, my offer still stands.”
And she sashayed off to talk to the Swinemaster, who had since returned.
“Can we try this again?” Colt said to Helen.
Helen knew better than to tell him she was carrying baby number four in a public place. “I don’t think this is the right time.”
“How about we meet for dinner sometime? Just you and me? Someplace quiet and refined. I’ll get Dodge to watch my boys.”
He