“Ready?”
Shiloh nodded, her gaze pinned on the big, lumpy brown herd of buffalo that stood looking at them. Their short, curved horns gleamed in the sunlight, wet with dew as the buffalo ate the grass. “Yes.”
Roan reached out, briefly touching her chin. He saw Shiloh’s eyes change, grow warm, and he saw desire flare in them. For him. He could feel it. Taste it. Every night he came back to the house after wrangling all day, he was tested again to keep his hands off Shiloh. To give her the room, the space she needed. Diamond was eager to mix it up with the herd, trotting sideways as Roan aimed him at the end of the wary bunch.
Before Shiloh could cluck to Charley, the spunky pinto drifted into a long trot, remaining on the outside of Diamond. She was amazed the horse knew what to do and tried her gawky best to ride at the trot.
Roan had pulled his lariat off a leather strap from around the horn and held it in his leather glove, the long, stiff loops slapping against his lower leg and boot. The way he rode, his familiarity with his horse’s movements, the way he held those thick coils of rope, impacted her powerfully. Shiloh found herself wishing she had some of Roan’s natural confidence. Charley picked up his trot and broke into a nice, easy lope, right at Diamond’s rump, keeping pace with the tall, muscular quarter horse.
It was much easier riding at a lope, something Shiloh loved, that cradle-like motion. It reminded her of sitting in a rocking chair. She watched as the matriarch of the herd, an old cow who didn’t have a calf at her side, whirled around, snorting jets of vapor out of her flaring nostrils as she stood her ground.
Roan slowed Diamond to a trot, his gaze on the matriarch. If he could convince her to move, the rest of the cows would follow. But he knew this old gal. They called her Maddy, as in “mad cow” because she was a testy ole buffalo with a history of pushing her thousand-plus pounds around with wranglers. He called over his shoulder, “Pull Charley back and get about a hundred feet away from me. Maddy can be a handful at times.”
“Maddy?” Shiloh called, pulling Charley to a walk.
“Yeah,” Roan said, “Maddy is bossy. And depending upon her mood on any given day, she’s not afraid to take any of us on. But you never know which day that might be.”
Great.
Shiloh quickly clucked to Charley and headed off toward the fence line, following Roan’s instructions. She pulled her paint to a stop, resting her hands on the horn, watching Roan approach the snorting cow. She was digging her front, cloven hooves into the ground, clumps of mud and grass flying up into the air beneath her belly. Her head was down and she was shaking it. Fear for Roan rose in her, but he seemed relaxed and unconcerned as he pulled Diamond down into a walk. The rest of the herd was jumpy and quickly scampered behind Maddy, who was still standing her ground, her small wary eyes blazing.
Her heart moved up in beat as Roan slowed and made a wide circle to get behind Maddy.
The cow snorted and whirled around in a split second, facing Roan once more.
Gasping, Shiloh didn’t realize how FAST a buffalo could move! It was amazing! Diamond’s ears were flicking forward and back, his eyes riveted on the cow who continued to shake her head and paw her hoof into the mud and grass. Shiloh saw two other wranglers approaching at a fast gallop to get there to help Roan.
The herd suddenly broke behind Maddy, racing between the cowboys.
Maddy bellowed and launched herself at Roan and Diamond.
A scream lodged in Shiloh’s throat, her hand flying to it, her mouth dropping open. Diamond deftly stepped aside, almost like a bullfighter making a ballet move at the charging buffalo. Only this cow was angry and she was aiming to plow into the dancing black horse. Roan leaned over as the horse whirled around and avoided the hooking horns of the buffalo, the rope slapping down on her wet, sensitive nose.
Maddy bawled and jerked to a halt, her nose stinging with pain. She turned, her thin tail twisting angrily, trying to avoid another warning slap of that lariat, digging her hind feet into the muddy pasture. She moved swiftly, barreling through the group of scattering cows and calves, aiming straight for the open gate at the far end of the pasture.
Shiloh watched as Roan pulled his horse to a stop, the animal breathing hard, its flanks bellowing in and out. He ran his hand down the gelding’s sweaty neck, talking soothingly to him. The horse calmed instantly, settling down, nostrils flared wide. Shiloh clucked to Charley and he took off at a sedate trot.
As Shiloh pulled up, she saw the other two wranglers flanking the herd from behind, making sure they all funneled through the gate into the new pasture. She smiled a little at Roan as he placed the lariat back into the leather strap, allowing it to hang on the right side of the saddle.