Wyoming Sweethearts Read Online Free PDF

steering wheel tight and eased up on the gas pedal.
    Something dark and large lumbered up behind her, filling the reflective surface of her rearview mirror. She recognized that dark blue pickup. Sean. The sunshine seemed brighter, although that was probably an illusion and had nothing to do with the man’s appearance. She eased around a hairpin corner and a dilapidated covering built out of corrugated metal and weathered two-by-fours came into sight. It huddled sadly against a broken-down fence. Barbed wire hung dangerously from listing and rotting posts. Most of the grass had been eaten away from an acre-sized field, where two horses pricked their ears, spotted the truck and came running.
    She pulled to a stop in front of a carport that had seen better days. A rusty truck rested in the shade. Overgrown grass danced in the wind as she watched Sean’s vehicle pull up beside her. Maybe the last wheeze of the air conditioner was the reason the hair stood up on her arms. She did not want it to be a reaction to the man strolling into sight. She braced herself for the inevitable and reached for her cane.
    Sean Granger looked like a western hero in his long-legged worn blue jeans. The white T-shirt he wore emphasized his sun-kissed tan and as he swept off his Stetson, muscles rippled beneath the knit cotton blend.
    He raked one hand through his brown hair and smiled down at her as he opened her car door. His dreamy blue eyes captured her with a steady stare and then his gaze slid downward as she climbed out from behind the wheel, stood tall and used her cane.
    Here was where he dimmed down the smile and his friendliness when he got a good look at her cane. It’s what most guys did whether they were interested or not. She braced herself for it as she took one limping step, but it didn’t come. Instead Sean closed the door for her, nodding toward the horses. “Did you get a look at them?”
    “No, I was too busy trying not to lose my car in one of the potholes,” she quipped and was rewarded with a grin as he swept his hat back on.
    “They saw the truck and came running. Look at them.” His hand settled on the curve of her shoulder, a friendly weight, as he turned her gently toward the fence line. “I wonder if their former owner drove a truck like mine.”
    “They keep staring at it, almost waiting for someone else who might be in there.” She gasped, realizing how they must be feeling. “Dr. Cannon didn’t say how long the gentleman who owned them has been gone.”
    “Three months. Animals don’t forget those they love.” Sean ambled up to the fence and held out his hands for the horses to scent.
    She took the opportunity to put a little physical distance between them. He was more touchy-feely than she was used to or felt comfortable with. “How do you know that?”
    “Uncle Frank knew. I told him where I was headed. He knows everyone in these parts.” Sean patted one of the horses. The big black gelding lowered his head for agood ear scratch. No one had taken time to comb out the tangles and burrs in his mane, and his hooves needed attention.
    “You are a good fellow,” Sean mumbled and the horse closed his eyes in trust. There was something deeply calming about the man, Eloise agreed. He made others feel safe.
    “Are you the folks the vet called about?” A middle-age man wearing faded overalls and carrying a pipe limped into sight. He didn’t seem to be in good health.
    “We are.” She spun to face him, thinking about the blank check her boss had handed over to her. “I’m Eloise from the Lark Song Inn.”
    “I’m Harry.” He tipped his sagging hat. “Are you still interested now that you’ve seen them? They ain’t much, and I regret to say I’m not up to caring for them.”
    “I’m sure we can settle on a price.” She glanced over her shoulder at the horses, one still accepting strokes from Sean, the other watching the blue pickup sadly. He finally lowered his head, perhaps realizing his