Wild Horses, Wild Hearts 2 Read online

  WILD HORSES

  WILD HEARTS 2

  Wild Hearts Series: Book 2

  MONTANA WEST

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter I: Leyla Meets Her Idol

  Chapter II: Chase McAllister Visits the Ranch

  Chapter III: A Delightful Supper Surprise

  Chapter IV: A Love Blossoms

  Chapter V: Trouble Looms

  Chapter VI: Chase Returns

  Chapter VII: Chase Returns Again

  Chapter VIII: Reunited — And It Feels Too Good

  Chapter IX: Chase’s Story

  Chapter X: Life Choices

  Chapter XI: The Union of Hearts

  WILD HORSES, WILD HEARTS 3

  A WORD FROM MONTANA

  ENJOY THIS BOOK? You can make a big difference

  ALSO BY MONTANA WEST

  ACKOWLEDGEMENTS

  COPYRIGHT

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter I: Leyla Meets Her Idol

  MCNEAL RANCH LAND, Near Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, August 1885

  “Steady...steady...NOW SPUR!”

  The rider reacted to the call, spurring her steed’s sides and sending it leaping into the air, clearing a hay bale that had been set in the path.

  The horse came back down to solid ground with a jolt but the rider remained planted in her seat with her hands fastened tightly around the reins.

  “That’s the way, Leyla! We’ll have you showing up the show riders in Cheyenne in no time!”

  Leyla McNeal brought her horse to a slow trot and smiled brightly beneath her wide-brimmed hat. Praise from her sister always brought a smile to her face, especially when it came to her show riding lessons.

  It was late afternoon in the southern pasture of the McNeal ranch. Owner of the ranch—and show rider extraordinaire—Margaret McNeal was giving her sister Leyla another lesson in show riding and she was quite pleased to see that her younger sibling had been dramatically improving in skill over the past month.

  Margaret checked a stopwatch she had in hand before she spurred her own chestnut mount named Apollo over to where Leyla was perched atop Grimjaw, one of the ranch’s older horses. As she approached, she was flashing a smile that could have reflected the sun if not for her own hat.

  “Every day you’re getting a little better, Leyla,” Margaret praised. “Matter of fact, you managed to beat your old time around the course.”

  Leyla’s eyes went wide at this information. “Really, Maggie? No fooling?”

  Her sister extended her hand and showed Leyla the stopwatch she had been using. The hands clearly indicated a time that had surpassed her previous best.

  Leyla felt a cheer of excitement welling up inside her but she kept it down. A loud noise like that would spook the horses, and she’d already been thrown more than once for forgetting that lesson. Her hand absently rubbed a spot on the back of her head beneath her riotous red curls where a bump had receded, but she could still swear there was something there.

  Margaret fixed her 22-year-old sister with a smile beaming with pride. Over the past month, she had stepped up her attention to Leyla’s show riding lessons, thanks in no small part to the arrival of John Baldwin, the Kentucky native who had been hired as the ranch boss, as well as being Margaret’s betrothed. His steadfast management of the ranch’s daily operations had allowed Margaret more time to practice her own show riding as well as coaching Leyla.

  What had truly impressed Margaret was just how quickly Leyla had come in such a short time. Less than two months prior, her sister had been clinging for dear life on the back of an untamed white colt heading out for the pastures. Now she had mastered the basics of show riding as well as a few of Margaret’s signature moves.

  Margaret chalked her little sister’s progress up to a family gift that they had inherited from their late father, Peter McNeal. Their father had served in the Union army as a cavalryman during the war where his love and skill with horses had served him well. That same passion for riding had passed on to his beautiful daughters, and they were both making skilled use of it.

  “I’d say another month of hard training and we’ll be ready to show you off in the corrals in Cheyenne,” Margaret said proudly. “Blazes, we may even take a chance at the fall show in Laramie if you keep up this progress.”

  Leyla’s jaw dropped at her sister’s earnest praise. She knew she was getting better at her show riding, but the idea that she would be ready for actual shows so soon was beyond her. Already she had dreams of performances alongside her sister with crowds going wild for the skills and tricks of the marvelous McNeal Sisters.

  “Afternoon, ladies,” came the voice of John Baldwin, pulling Leyla from her daydream. The blond-haired cowboy was riding up to the ladies atop his ebony mount, Longbow. His poncho and hat were covered in dirt, evidence of his recent return from delivering another round of cattle to the railhead in Cheyenne.

  Margaret quickly turned Apollo around and trotted him over to sidle up alongside John. Not caring a wit for propriety or John’s gritty covering, she leaned in and captured her ranch boss’s lips in a kiss, one that he eagerly returned.

  Leyla turned her head away, trying to fight down some of the color that was rising to her cheeks.

  It still surprised Leyla how much her sister had changed over the course of the time John had been there. Before he had arrived, it seemed like nothing short of an act of God himself would change Margaret’s mind about giving a man a chance. But John had done what every man before him had tried to do and failed: he had pierced Margaret’s fierce independence without breaking it and the two were nigh inseparable.

  Of course, Leyla had her own independent streak, one that was starting to rival her sister’s, and she fully intended to match her sister in riding skill. Though she felt a twinge of envy for the love Margaret had found, Leyla was determined to put her own independence first.

  When the two finally broke the kiss, the smiles between them remained as they always did. They were the kind of smiles worn by people who had found true love and would fight tooth and nail before they’d let it slip away.

  “Get the cattle delivered on time, Mister Baldwin?” Margaret asked playfully, reverting to formality despite the brazen display of public affection she had just performed.

  “Ahead of schedule, actually, Miss McNeal,” he replied, taking a moment to pat down his arms to clear some of the trail dust off. “Had just enough time to stop in at Finnegan’s to see Fergus. He wanted me to say that his goddaughters are well overdue for a visit to their poor old godfather.”

  Margaret and Leyla laughed at the message. Fergus Finnegan was the owner of Finnegan’s Grand Saloon in Cheyenne and he was also their godfather, having been close friends with their father, Peter, during the war and following them out west after it. The mischief-eyed Irishman that they called Uncle Fergus was fiercely loyal to them, regarding them as part of his family without a care for bloodline.

  “I think we could slip on by to see Uncle Fergus this week, don’t you, Leyla?” Margaret asked of her younger sister.

  Leyla eagerly nodded her head. “It’s always a laugh visiting Uncle Fergus,” she said.

  “And how’s today’s lesson going for you, Leyla?” John queried, turning his attention to the younger McNeal sister.

  Leyla dipped her head down an inch so that the brim of her hat covered her eyes. Despite her improving confi
dence in horse riding, she was still a touch shy when it came to talking to men. Even as familiar as she had become with John Baldwin, the handsome cowboy’s gaze was more than she could handle.

  “According to Maggie, I beat my best time today,” she quietly admitted.

  “That a fact?” John replied, turning to his employer. Margaret nodded her head in affirmation, confirming that what Leyla said was true.

  John gave Longbow a little nudge and the horse moved closer toward where Leyla sat on Grimjaw. “Well Miss Leyla,” he began, “in recognition of that accomplishment, I reckon it’s high time we started working on finding you your own horse.”

  Leyla’s head shot up like a lightning bolt, her eyes as wide as the brim of her hat. She looked to Margaret, fully expecting her older sister to rebuke the idea, but Maggie kept smiling, showing no sign whatsoever that she was against the idea.

  “You-you mean it, Mr. Baldwin?” she stuttered, her heart feeling like it was trying to escape from her chest. “You think I’m ready?”

  “Absolutely,” John answered without a moment’s hesitation. “From what Margaret has been telling me, you’ve made a lot of headway over the past month. Now it’s time to put what you’ve learned to the test and see if you can take charge of your own mount.”

  “He’s right, Leyla,” Margaret chimed in. “Though he still moves pretty well, Grimjaw hasn’t got the stamina anymore to be a proper show-riding horse. We need to find you a fresh horse from the plains that you can train to be your very own. That’s how I got Apollo here.” Margaret patted her mount’s mane for emphasis.

  “And that’s how Longbow and I came together,” John added, mirroring Margaret’s show of affection for his own horse.

  If not for her lessons, Leyla would have spurred Grimjaw into a gallop all around the course in wild abandonment. Her sister and John believed she was ready for her own horse. It felt like an absolute dream come true. With her own horse, she’d really be able to get the hang of show riding.

  “When?” was the only word she dared to allow escape her lips for fear that she’d start babbling.

  Margaret looked to John. “Mister Baldwin, didn’t you send a few men out to the plains to bring in a few fresh horses?”

  “Why yes, I did, Miss McNeal,” John replied with a grin. “I believe they should be back later today and will have them situated by tomorrow morning.”

  Margaret turned her attention back toward Leyla. “Tomorrow morning then, Leyla, you’ll have the pick of the mounts, and we’ll see if you’re finally ready for your own horse.”

  Leyla’s hands gripped Grimjaw’s reins tightly as she took everything in. Once more, she wanted to let out a cheer that would ring out across the entire McNeal ranch, but she forced it down. She didn’t want anything to spoil this moment.

  “Alright, Leyla,” Margaret said, “get Grimjaw back to the stable and rest up for tomorrow. John and I have to take care of a few... things before tomorrow.” Margaret gave her ranch boss a mischievous sidelong glance

  “Yes, Maggie,” Leyla answered, spurring Grimjaw’s sides and setting him off at a brisk trot back toward the homestead.

  Once she was out of earshot, Margaret turned her attention back towards John. “You really think she’s ready, John?” she asked, her usually confident tone carrying the slightest twinge of worry.

  John reached over and clasped Margaret’s hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You trained her, Maggie. I can’t think of anyone better to teach Leyla how to ride like a professional show rider.”

  Margaret returned his squeeze and gave him another smile. “For a Kentucky boy, you sure do know how to charm a lady, John Baldwin.”

  “Just the ones that know how to ride, Maggie,” he said cheekily.

  LEYLA’S MIND WAS STILL racing as she entered the stable and returned Grimjaw to his stable, expertly removing his saddle and fixing a feedbag to his muzzle. She gave the older horse a grateful pat before closing the gate to his stall.

  Stretching her arms out to help ease her muscles from the training she had endured under Margaret’s direction, she strolled back out of the stable and toward the McNeal home, letting her mind wander.

  I wonder what the horses will look like tomorrow, she pondered. Will they be completely wild? Will they look like Apollo, or even Longbow? What if I fail? What if I’m not as good as—?

  Leyla planted her boots in the soil of the ranch and forced herself to take a deep breath in order to calm herself. If she allowed herself to worry, then she’d lose focus, and losing focus was the one thing a show rider couldn’t allow herself to do.

  She had seen the results of what losing focus could do over a month prior when Maggie had fallen from Apollo during a show-riding event in Cheyenne.

  From what Leyla had learned, Maggie had lost her focus when she had spotted John Baldwin in the crowd. Of course, John certainly wasn’t to blame; it was just a rare occurrence of Maggie being distracted. Thankfully, her sister hadn’t been seriously injured from the fall.

  Despite the minor pangs of envy she had felt earlier, Leyla was intent on building a show riding reputation to match and rival her sister’s.

  Still, she admitted, it must be nice to love a man like John.

  Leyla wasn’t envious of her sister’s relationship with Mr. Baldwin. He was quite handsome in a rough and tumble manner and was an expert rider. Leyla and her mother, Abigail, had quickly caught on to Margaret’s budding feelings for John. In truth, Leyla was more envious of Margaret having a relationship with someone she could relate to.

  The odds of Leyla finding a man like John Baldwin—one who could ride and respected her independence—were as good as a brick’s chance of floating in a river. No, with any luck, she’d be able to maintain her independence and hone her show riding abilities while Margaret and John committed to their loving relationship.

  But, for now, all Leyla had to focus on was breaking her own horse tomorrow and becoming a better show rider. That was all that mattered to her.

  CHEYENNE, WYOMING TERRITORY, August 1885

  A crew of railroad yard workers on the night shift paused in their duties to watch as a garishly colored locomotive huffed its way into Cheyenne’s sidings. The engine let out a blast of its shrill whistle like a circus calliope, ensuring that people would pay it attention whether they wanted to or not.

  Behind the locomotive and its tender came a line of varying cars painted in equally loud and eye-catching colors. The first boxcar that followed proclaimed “PROFESSOR MONRO’S WILD WEST SHOW” in letters big enough to see from a mile away, even in the darkness of the plains.

  The workers were momentarily confused by the concept of what a “wild west show” was, but their musings were cut short as the yard boss hollered at them to get back to work.

  As the train came to a halt with a screech and a hiss of steam, some of the occupants inside were tossed by the sudden shift in momentum. Some collided with one another, others were jarred from seats, and a lucky few barely noticed the jolt at all.

  One of the unlucky few was a cowboy who had been sleeping and awoke just in time to find himself ejected from the hammock he’d strung up from two lantern posts on the walls of his car and becoming intimate with the hard wood of the floor.

  Tarnation, can’t a man get a little sleep around this rolling crate they call a train? he mentally grumbled, picking himself up from the floor and trying to rid his body of the kinks that had taken up residence during his rest.

  Running a calloused hand through his long brown locks, he was contemplating crawling back into his hammock when a voice like a foghorn blew through the train car.

  “Rise and shine, my spectacular stars!” boomed the portly Professor Monro, perpetually dressed in his frock coat and top hat. “We’ve crossed the threshold into another delightful hamlet where we might once again dazzle the local populace with our marvelous mastery of the Western conventions combined with the dual theatricality of comedy and tragedy.”


  The cowboy rubbed his temples from the combination of his impromptu awakening and the professor’s boisterous voice. “Professor, isn’t it a little early in the morning to be laying on the act?” he asked wearily.

  Professor Monro fixed the young man with a smile beneath his waxed mustache that carried up into his gleaming eyes. “Why, Chase, my boy,” he cheered. “You wound me to the quick! To insinuate that I am merely evoking a cheap façade of joviality for the benefit of you all, it causes deep wells of sorrow to spring forth within my heart.” The man made a show of pressing his pudgy hands to his chest, as though trying to stifle some internal ache. “And besides, it’s late evening.”

  Chase McAllister relented and returned the professor’s smile. “All right, Professor, you’ve made your point,” he playfully chided. “I take it you want me to rouse the other show riders and the teamsters to set up the show?”

  “Bright as a copper button you are, Chase!” Professor Monro crowed as he moved his bulk down the car, squeezing past Chase’s lean but toned frame. “See to it that our equine performers and laborers are unloaded swift as an arrow and get to erecting our grandiose stage. The residents of this quiet burg will awaken to a gift of wonder by the time the sun crests the eastern horizon.”

  “Speaking of,” Chase began, “where are we this ti—?”

  “No time for dawdling, Chase,” the professor interrupted as he moved further down the train. “There’s work to be done, and I expect you to do your part! Hop to it, my boy!”

  Chase sighed as the professor exited the rail car, moving to the next in order to repeat his performance. The remaining occupants of his own car, other show riders, were still groaning from the headaches caused by the dual combination of the train’s wrenching stop and Professor Monro’s perpetually optimistic and theatrical persona.

  Though he could sympathize with their desire to rest a spell longer, Chase knew the professor was right. There was work to be done and, as leader of the show’s riders, he was expected to do his part.