The Mavericks Read Free Page B

Hawk had a nodding acquaintance with it, but she decided a chance to be with the horses was worth a brush with a prickly personality.

Chapter Two
    Hawk wasn’t happy when he turned to see Suzette following him. He didn’t mind helping the women, but that didn’t mean he wanted to have anything more to do with them than necessary. Thirty-six years had given him no reason to believe a woman was anything but trouble.
    Hawk studied the ground as it changed from sandbar to riverbank to desert, looking for a good place to picket Dusky Lady. The other mares didn’t need to be hobbled, because they wouldn’t leave without their leader. They needed to graze, and the abundant growth along the river would be enough to last them through the night.
    â€œWhat do you want?” He didn’t mean to sound rude or angry, but he didn’t bother to modulate the tone of his voice.
    â€œI love horses.” Suzette’s expression softened as she looked at the mares. “I miss having some of my own.”
    â€œYou don’t look like a woman who spends much time around horses.”
    Hawk had seen enough saloon women to recognize one the moment he saw her. Their clothes were different. It wasn’t just the colors or even the style. It was the way the material clung to their bodies, accentuating their breasts, hips, legs, and shoulders. It was also the way saloon women wore their clothes, like they were part of their personalities, as if they were never able to take time off from the business of attracting men and seducing them into spending time and money on them. This woman didn’t look like she’d ever saddled her own horse, much less cleaned up behind one.
    â€œI had two horses when I was growing up,” Suzette said. “They would take sugar or apple pieces right out of my hand.”
    â€œI don’t make pets out of my horses.”
    â€œMine were riding horses, one a Morgan very much like that mare.”
    Hawk looked at Dusky Lady and his anger subsided. “She’s the best horse we own. She’s in foal to a stud with Morgan blood. I’m hoping she’ll drop a filly so I can breed them both to our new stud horse.”
    â€œWhat are you planning to do with these horses?”
    â€œBreed quality horses for sale.”
    â€œI could never sell them if they were mine.”
    â€œThen you’d go broke and the bank would sell them for you.”
    Hawk didn’t understand why some women seemed unable to think logically about animals that they depended on for a livelihood. If you had a product—nomatter what the product was—you had to sell it if you wanted to make money. It was probably a good thing Suzette was a saloon girl. That way she only had to sell herself.
    â€œI’d raise cows for money,” Suzette said. “I’d keep the horses for myself.”
    She walked up to Dusky Lady and reached out to pat her neck. The mare raised her head from the scarce grass and thrust her muzzle against Suzette’s chest. Suzette’s peal of laughter sounded as out of place as an exotic bird; the look on her face was near bliss. She looped her arm around the mare’s neck and leaned against her. Moments later she stepped back and walked around the mare, her fingers trailing along her sides, probing, caressing, all the while murmuring softly.
    â€œShe’s going to have twins,” Suzette announced.
    â€œHow do you know?” Hawk didn’t want twins. He wanted a single, strong, sturdy foal.
    â€œA woman knows.”
    How many times had Hawk heard that before? It translated as
There’s no logical reason to support my opinion, but I’m going to stick with it because it’s how I want things to be.
What was it about females that told them when another female—regardless of the species—was pregnant? Maybe it was the same kind of instinct that told a man when he was facing an enemy even before the other man