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Authors: Janet Dailey
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something of a ladies' man, I guess," Patty explained. "He's very affectionate whenever there's a woman around, although he still won't let them ride him."
"Do you know how he got his name?"
Morgan answered, "My father kept hearing about this rancher in the Red River Valley of Texas who had a horse nobody had been able to ride. He went to see him, got bucked off, and bought the horse. Originally he was named Star. After the first year on the rodeo circuit, he was referred to so often as the horse from the Red River that my father changed his name."
When they arrived at the enclosure containing the bareback stock, Morgan whistled and a golden chestnut separated itself from the other horses, trotting close to the rails and stopping to toss his head at the man who had called him. Not until Patty climbed onto the rail did the chestnut horse with the white star on his forehead come closer to butt his head affectionately against her leg, muscular and sleek, moving lightly on his feet. The gray white hairs around his nose were the single outward indication to reveal the weight of his twenty-one years.
The blond reporter remained on the ground on the opposite side of the fence from the horse, admiring him through the slatted rails.
"I assure you he's quite friendly," Morgan promised, a warm smile softening his face. "Come on, I'll give you a hand onto the fence so that you can get a good look at him."
Patty thought that winning smile was grating and unnecessary. Carla Nicholson was already under his spell. Although she pretended an interest in the horse, she saw the provocative look the blond reporter gave Morgan when she was perched on the fence beside him.
Neither the cranberry red pantsuit nor the pair of sandal-heeled shoes were the attire Patty would have chosen to tiptoe through the rodeo grounds. She wondered in passing if her inability to actively like the woman was because her fairness reminded her of Lije's wife.
The mocking glint in the look Morgan gave her sent a creeping heat into her face. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he was reading her mind again.
"He is a beautiful horse," Carla Nicholson was saying. "It's a pity an animal like that has to earn his keep by bucking in a rodeo. It must be a rough life for him."
There was an immediate chuckle from Morgan. "If humans can come back to life in animal form, I would certainly choose to be a bucking horse! So far this year, Red has come out of the chute fifteen times. Five of those times he was ridden to the eight-second limit. This year he will actually work only four minutes and in return, he's fed, watered, sheltered and cared for as if he were a prize thoroughbred racehorse. If that's a rough life, I'll take it any time!"
"But surely those four minutes are painful, with that strap tied around his middle to make him buck?" the photographer questioned.
Morgan exchanged an amused smile with Patty before he turned slightly on the rail to call to one of the cowboys standing not too far from them.
"Kirby, bring me a flank strap." Then his attention was back to the two rodeo novices. "The hue and cry that's raised every so often at the apparent cruelty of the rodeo producers to get animals—horses and bucking bulls—to perform the way they want them to is caused by the fact that a little knowledge is dangerous because it leads to inaccurate conclusions."
Directing the two newspaper people's attention to the horse docilely nuzzling Party's hand, he continued, "If you put an ordinary saddle on Red or any horse in the string, he would buck the average rider off every time. It's his nature. He's discovered he can get rid of the rider and be his own boss, so he'll do it every time he can for the sheer fun of it."
The flank strap was handed to Morgan by the cowboy who had fetched it. Morgan, in turn, handed it to Carla Nicholson and the photographer for their inspection.
"In rodeos, the flank strap is used to get the best performance out of the horse. It's
"Do you know how he got his name?"
Morgan answered, "My father kept hearing about this rancher in the Red River Valley of Texas who had a horse nobody had been able to ride. He went to see him, got bucked off, and bought the horse. Originally he was named Star. After the first year on the rodeo circuit, he was referred to so often as the horse from the Red River that my father changed his name."
When they arrived at the enclosure containing the bareback stock, Morgan whistled and a golden chestnut separated itself from the other horses, trotting close to the rails and stopping to toss his head at the man who had called him. Not until Patty climbed onto the rail did the chestnut horse with the white star on his forehead come closer to butt his head affectionately against her leg, muscular and sleek, moving lightly on his feet. The gray white hairs around his nose were the single outward indication to reveal the weight of his twenty-one years.
The blond reporter remained on the ground on the opposite side of the fence from the horse, admiring him through the slatted rails.
"I assure you he's quite friendly," Morgan promised, a warm smile softening his face. "Come on, I'll give you a hand onto the fence so that you can get a good look at him."
Patty thought that winning smile was grating and unnecessary. Carla Nicholson was already under his spell. Although she pretended an interest in the horse, she saw the provocative look the blond reporter gave Morgan when she was perched on the fence beside him.
Neither the cranberry red pantsuit nor the pair of sandal-heeled shoes were the attire Patty would have chosen to tiptoe through the rodeo grounds. She wondered in passing if her inability to actively like the woman was because her fairness reminded her of Lije's wife.
The mocking glint in the look Morgan gave her sent a creeping heat into her face. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he was reading her mind again.
"He is a beautiful horse," Carla Nicholson was saying. "It's a pity an animal like that has to earn his keep by bucking in a rodeo. It must be a rough life for him."
There was an immediate chuckle from Morgan. "If humans can come back to life in animal form, I would certainly choose to be a bucking horse! So far this year, Red has come out of the chute fifteen times. Five of those times he was ridden to the eight-second limit. This year he will actually work only four minutes and in return, he's fed, watered, sheltered and cared for as if he were a prize thoroughbred racehorse. If that's a rough life, I'll take it any time!"
"But surely those four minutes are painful, with that strap tied around his middle to make him buck?" the photographer questioned.
Morgan exchanged an amused smile with Patty before he turned slightly on the rail to call to one of the cowboys standing not too far from them.
"Kirby, bring me a flank strap." Then his attention was back to the two rodeo novices. "The hue and cry that's raised every so often at the apparent cruelty of the rodeo producers to get animals—horses and bucking bulls—to perform the way they want them to is caused by the fact that a little knowledge is dangerous because it leads to inaccurate conclusions."
Directing the two newspaper people's attention to the horse docilely nuzzling Party's hand, he continued, "If you put an ordinary saddle on Red or any horse in the string, he would buck the average rider off every time. It's his nature. He's discovered he can get rid of the rider and be his own boss, so he'll do it every time he can for the sheer fun of it."
The flank strap was handed to Morgan by the cowboy who had fetched it. Morgan, in turn, handed it to Carla Nicholson and the photographer for their inspection.
"In rodeos, the flank strap is used to get the best performance out of the horse. It's
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