Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)

Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12) by Lorelei James


Chapter One

The sound of leather hitting flesh was music to his ears.

He pulled his arm back and snapped his wrist, the movement fluid and familiar. The long

leather tail of the bullwhip connected with her quivering flank and a sharp crack

echoed back to him.

She released a low-pitched grunt but remained still, staring at him with defiant brown

eyes.

Stubborn.

Again he lifted his arm. He put more force behind the blow, hitting the same spot, but

harder.

Her whole body quivered.

“For Christsake, quit f*ckin’ around with her. Throw a goddamn rope around her neck

and make her come.”

Ben McKay squinted at the lone cow, her hooves mired in the mud. He sighed, spurred his

horse through the creek and stopped ten feet in front of the immovable cow. After

switching out his whip for his rope, he twirled and let fly. The loop circled her neck

and he tugged to tighten it. He’d done this so many times he didn’t have to spur his

horse; Bongo just moved forward.

The cow, given the choice between choking or moving, stumbled forward.

Quinn’s horse danced impatiently at the top of the rise, as his rider watched Ben drag

the cow up the incline. “Don’t know why in the hell she likes that damn creek,”

Quinn remarked. “She’d stay there until it froze over.”

“Probably.” Bongo picked up the pace and Ben led the cow through the gate. As soon as

Quinn closed off her only avenue of escape, Ben released the rope. He dismounted and

approached the cow slowly. “Now don’t go getting any ideas about running off.” She

stood still while he slipped the loop from her neck. Then he slapped her hard on the

rump and she lumbered toward the rest of the herd.

Quinn waited while Ben mounted up. They poked along, soaking in the last rays of the

sun’s warmth. Indian summer had stretched through the first week of October. They’d

take temperate days while they could because winter in Wyoming seemed to last more than

half the damn year.

“So what’re your plans for the weekend?” Quinn asked.

“Goin’ to Gillette. I’ll be back Sunday sometime.” He pushed up his hat and looked

at Quinn. “Unless you and Libby need me back early for chores on Sunday morning?”

“Nah. We can handle it. Aren’t you gonna be around to watch the PBR Sunday afternoon?

It’ll be the last time Chase rides in the regular season.”

He’d forgotten about that. His bull riding younger brother had pulled his head out of

his ass and had made a good showing on the PBR tour the past few months. “Yeah. I’ll

be back.”

“Good, because at the last poker game you volunteered your house as a place for us all

to get together to watch.”

Ben stopped his horse. “Define all.”

“All…meaning all our McKay cousins.”

“Jesus. Was I drunk when I volunteered?”

Quinn laughed. “Nope. You were sober enough to exclude kids and wives in the invite.

Besides, you own the biggest TV of any of us. And if you sweet talk Keely, she’ll

bring food.”

His cousin Keely loved McKay events with the boys, since she was the only female McKay

in their generation. “I’ll call her on my way out of town.”