Free The Cowboy Who Broke the Mold by Cathleen Galitz

fade from Carrie’s face the moment she spotted him, Judson felt the sharp prick of rejection. Clearly Ms. Raben hadn’t softened any toward him. Well, how could he expect such a pretty, pampered An- glo princess to understand the forces that motivated him? Besides, he thought, swinging his long legs over the sagging barbed-wire fence, he didn’t give a damn what she thought of him. Not a damn.
    Certain that everything she did, including her choice of attire, fell well out of the range of “school as Judson Horn remembered it,” Carrie wasn’t particularly sur- prised when the man interrupted her lessons a second day in a row. Assuming that he would gleefully report back to the rest of the board scandalous accounts of her creative approach to education, she greeted his presence with cool indifference. On the outside, that is. On the inside, every molecule in her being was on fire. Shefound Judson’s presence more than just a little unset- tling.
    On horseback, he looked the part of an old-fashioned Western hero. As he swung himself gracefully off the biggest horse she had ever seen and tethered it to the fence, Carrie reminded herself that she should be look- ing at him through the eyes of an employee, not a hot- blooded woman. One smooth move placed him on her side of the fence and in dangerous proximity. As he strode purposefully across the expanse of the play- ground, a devilish fist tightened around her heart.
    What exactly was there about this man that caused her pulse to quicken so maddeningly? Her mother had warned her to stay away from such men. Men whose eyes could undress you and possess you in the selfsame glance. Men whose toughness in word and manner cov- ered their feelings. Men whose rough hands conjured up unladylike images of silken bodies entwined. Men who could break your heart just as surely as they could break a wild mustang and abandon you the instant you were tamed—
    “What lesson are we learning here today?” Judson asked the class in a most cavalier manner.
    Carrie was in the midst of deciding whether she should make him the focal point of a lesson in social skills or simply answer truthfully that this was part of a science unit on birds when the sound of angry honking interrupted her.
    A fat goose with a pink bow tied around its neck rushed out from beneath the steps of the old school- house. Flapping its wings in consternation, the animal charged at Judson with malice in her yellow eyes.
    The children exploded into gales of riotous laughter.
    Raising a boot in self-defense, Judson looked at Car- rie as warily as at the goose that held him at bay.
    “Meet Mother,” she said with the first genuine gig- gle he had heard from her lips.
    The sound chased away the dark thunderclouds from his rugged features, and Judson crooked one eyebrow in her direction.
    “Mother Goose?”
    Nodding her head, Carrie smiled. “Your daughter had the honor of naming our watch goose.”
    “Your what?”
    “I got to thinking about what you said—that I should buy a weapon to protect my students, but since I don’t like the idea of guns being anywhere near children…”
    “You bought a goose?” he finished for her.
    Despite the fact that Judson was looking at her like she had temporarily misplaced her straitjacket, Carrie continued as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.
    “Like I tell my students, when confronted with a problem the best place to look for answers is in the library. In my research I discovered that geese are mor- tal enemies of snakes, and I’m happy to report that since Mother has been on the job, she’s killed at least two snakes that I know of.”
    Carrie simply could not resist adding with a self- satisfied smirk, “It appears she’s just as adept at han- dling the two-legged variety, as well…”
    Judson suffered the indignation of the remark by em- ploying his trademark grin.
    “And the pink bow?” he inquired. “Does research show that color causes less