Free The Wrangler by Jillian Hart

had been forever dark.
    How about that? His fingers tightened around the belt, as if needing something to hold onto, something to ground him. The last thing he ought to do was fall for her.
    The mare balked, digging in her hooves, resisting him. It dragged his attention away from Kit, and he was glad for it. He focused his thoughts where they belonged—on the horse.
    "Easy, girl." He led her down the slope of prairie to the edge of the yard, where Kit's younger sister bobbed up from boiling water for laundry over the campfire.
    Mindy's face was different from Kit's—oval and girlish, as if womanhood had yet to touch her. Her china doll face was as pale as ivory, unlike Kit's sun-kissed cheeks. She blanched when she saw him, obviously shy, and backed up against the wall of the tent.
    Fred darted out of the tent, a peppermint stick in hand. "Golly, did you catch a wild mustang?"
    "She was running with the herd, but she looks like an Arabian." Dakota kept his voice low.
    "Like Blue." Fred slowed to a stop. "You're holding her with a belt?"
    "It was all I had on hand." He'd been known to lead unbroken horses with nothing but his touch, but he wanted more control over the mare because of her injuries. "Careful not to frighten her."
    "Okay. Does she got a brand?"
    "No." He knew the moment Kit left his side, slipping across the soft grass to the tent and disappearing inside. "Wild herds migrate over the prairie. There's no way of telling where she belongs."
    "She's the prettiest palomino I ever saw." Fred stooped to check out the mare's white socks on dainty, long legs. His straw hat flew off and startled the mare.
    "Easy, girl." Dakota laid his palm against her neck, let her feel how calm he was, how sure. There was no danger here. He got her moving toward the creek. Her flawless dishpan face lifted, her eyes brightened when she spotted the fresh, gurgling water.
    "You sure got a way with horses." Fred trailed after them and leaned against a cottonwood's trunk in the dappled shade. "Is that because you're a horse thief?"
    "I'm no horse thief, kid."
    "Fred!" Kit admonished, sashaying toward him with a bucket in hand.
    "It's all right." Dakota held the mare while she drank deeply. He knew everyone saw him as dangerous, a man with a dark past. They wouldn't be entirely wrong. He eyed the woman. "Are you thinking of helping?"
    "Do you think you can stop me?" She tossed her braid over her shoulder. "I've doctored horses before."
    "I'm starting to see why you don't have any beaus."
    "It's not my fault. It's my choice . There's a difference."
    "Are you sure about that?" He almost laughed. Where that came from, he didn't know. The woman could make him forget about everything—the pain in his arm, the worrisome tracks on the rise, even his past.
    The mare lifted her head, water dribbling from her whiskery lips. She took a moment to study her surroundings—the two horses picketed nearby, the boy licking his peppermint stick, sitting with his back against the tree and the snap of Kit's skirts in the breeze.
    Kit. Behind her the vivid green grass, shimmering cottonwoods and vibrant blue sky framed her, making her the center. The sun seemed to shine only for her.
    "Hey, girl." Kit came closer with the bucket, her dulcet alto rang as sweet as lark song. "I brought you a little grain. Do you remember—"
    The mare swung her head around, interrupting.
    Kit laughed, held out the bucket. "I guess you do. Eat up. Blue and Jack don't mind sharing their food."
    Both horses whinnied, tugging on their picket lines, scenting the air.
    "Apparently they don't agree." She handed him a rope halter.
    He took it, careful not to touch her. She wore no gloves today. He wondered what her touch would feel like on his chest.
    "You two have had your breakfast," she said over her shoulder to the horses. "You're not tempting me with those big, melted-chocolate pleading eyes. Nope, not one bit."
    Kindness. It rang in the notes of her voice. It transformed her into a