"That sounds like Dallas. I told you he was nice."

Patience managed a smile. "Yes, that's what you said."

Shari cast her a glance, but didn't say more. "Pickup looks good. Can I take a look inside the trailer?"

"Sure, come on." They ducked inside the rig and closed the door. Fortunately, there were enough windows that it didn't feel all that crowded. Still, it was hot inside. Patience reached up and turned on the fan above the bunks to stir up a little cool air.

"This is great." Shari tested one of the beds. "The kitchen has a stove and fridge, which is bound to come in handy, and you've got room in the dining area to set up your laptop."

"Yeah, that's what I figured. I was hoping you would think it was okay."

"Are you kidding? I've stayed in a lot worse places than this. We won't be inside much during the day and it's a lot cooler at night. We can always rent motel rooms if we get to feeling claustrophobic. In the meantime, this will save us a lot of money."

Patience turned off the fan and they climbed down from the trailer. "I was wondering...by any chance, have you ever pulled one of these?"

Shari nodded. "Horse trailers. This won't be much different."

"I'm glad to hear it because I'm going to need a lesson in backing up."

"No problem. In the morning, I can-"

"I thought I was supposed to give you a lesson." The edge was gone from the drawl. The familiar deep voice made her stomach flutter. She turned to find Dallas Kingman leaning against the side of the trailer, his black felt hat shoved back, a stem of straw stuck between teeth so white he could have posed for a Colgate ad.

"I guess I won't be needing your help after all," Patience told him, thankful it was true. "Shari can teach me whatever I need to know."

He tossed the straw away and his gaze moved slowly down her body. "Oh, I don't know...I might be able to teach you a few things Shari couldn't."

She didn't say a word. Every spot those blue eyes touched was starting to tingle. She didn't understand it. For heaven's sake-they didn't even like each other!

She couldn't help thinking of Tyler Stanfield. At first, she'd been attracted to him, too. Then she'd found out what a jerk he really was. Her track record with men was so bad it was embarrassing. Another figure appeared at the edge of her vision.

"Well, if it isn't Shari's new friend Prudence." At Jade Egan's slur, Patience clamped down on her temper.

"It's Patience, not Prudence. And your name was...something to do with a rock, as I recall."

Jade stiffened, and Dallas tugged his hat down to hide a grin. "I guess you two have met," he said.

"Oh, we've met." Jade's smug gaze traveled over Patience's clothes. "Dressed like that, I figured she was from Hollywood, but Shari says it's Boston." Jade flashed a phony smile. "I still haven't figured out what an easterner who's never been on a horse is doing on the rodeo circuit."

Patience opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had been riding since she was a little girl-English, not western, but so what? For the last three summers, she had worked at Parklands Stables, giving riding lessons to children, but that was none of Jade Egan's business.

"Hey, Dallas!" Wes McCauley walked toward them, taller even than Dallas, and bulkier, heavier through the chest and shoulders. "Hotshot's started limping. Can you take a quick look at him for me?"

"Sure. Where is he?"

"Over by my trailer."

Dallas started following Wes, and Jade fell in beside them. Dressed in a gold lame barrel-racing shirt, gold britches molded to a perfect derriere, Jade smiled up at Dallas, then tossed Patience a backward glance that held a note of warning.

"I told you she was jealous," Shari said. "She wants Dallas back, only I don't think he's interested."

"Why not?"

"Because Jade is spoiled and selfish and Dallas isn't that way."

Patience watched his long-legged stride and noticed the width of his shoulders. She saw the way his faded jeans outlined the muscles in his thighs. A bunch of fans, mostly women, rushed up to him, swarmed around him and Wes. She watched the women fawn over him and felt a fresh wave of dislike for him.

"You can say what you want. I still think he and Jade are a perfect match."

The remark drew a chuckle from Shari. "What's your middle name?" she asked, her gaze following Jade's retreating figure.

"Jean. Why?"

"Because I'm tired of Jade's harassment. Practically everybody in the business has a nickname. From now on you're P.J. You okay with that?"

Patience frowned. "P.J.? It sounds like something you wear to bed."

Shari snorted a laugh. "I'm likin' you better all the time."

Patience grinned. "You know, it kind of has a western ring. I think I like it."

"Good. And tomorrow we're stoppin' at the Laundromat on the way out of town. We're gonna wash those jeans, get out some of the new. And as for that hat-"

Patience snatched the hat off her head and held it in front of her. "What's wrong with my hat? It's a brand new straw Bailey. I bet yours is the very same brand."

Shari shoved her own hat back on her head. "There's nothing wrong with the hat. It's the crimp that's the problem."

"Crimp? What crimp? I don't see any crimp?"

"That's the problem." Shari plucked it out of her hand and started bending the edges. Patience fought an urge to snatch it back.

"There. Now it looks like it's been worn more than once. Put it on; see if it doesn't look better."

With some reluctance, Patience settled the hat on her head and Shari tugged her over to the mirror next to the driver's window of Dallas's truck. The change was subtle, but...

Patience turned to Shari. "You know, it does look better."

Shari stared down at Patience's boots, an extra pair that were brown instead of red.

"Don't tell me you hate my boots."

"Those are fine. Save the red ones for when we go dancin' after the perf. You'll get plenty of use out of them, I promise."

"Dancing? You mean like the Texas two-step? I wouldn't have the vaguest notion how to-"

"You'll learn." Shari flashed her a teasing smile. "Maybe Dallas will give you a lesson."

Color washed into Patience's cheeks. "Dallas? Are you kidding?"

But Shari just laughed, and Patience ignored the little curl of heat that formed in the pit of her stomach.

CHAPTER 4.

Towering cottonwoods along the banks of the Llano River stretched out around the rodeo grounds. There was an RV Park in the Robinson City complex, which would give Patience and Shari a chance to try out their newly purchased portable sleeping quarters later that night.

The show began right on time, starting with the usual rousing red, white, and blue salute followed by the introduction of local officials and the rodeo queen. It was a hot, dusty day, without the slightest breeze, but none of the cowboys grumbled. Instead, they busied themselves wrapping once-shattered wrists and sprained ankles, sliding protective vests over freshly pressed long-sleeved shirts.

The events went off without a hitch, first bareback bronc riding followed by steer wrestling, then saddle broncs, barrel racing, and bulls.

Shari's ride wasn't fast enough to make any money, but "The King," as usual, wound up winning first place. As soon as the show was over, Patience and Shari headed into town for supplies, returning a few hours later with bedding and blankets, enough water and food for at least the next few days. Mr. Nelson, the previous owner, had left pots, pans, and a set of plastic dishes in the kitchen, so that was taken care of. Patience suggested they toss a coin for the lower berth but Shari wouldn't hear of it.

"Age before beauty," she teased, being twenty-six, a whole year younger than Patience.

They had planned to eat in that night, but Wes and Stormy stopped by and said the whole gang was going into town for Mexican food and invited them to come along. Stormy said they could all ride in Dallas's truck, and though Patience tried to decline, in the end, she acquiesced, climbing into the backseat next to Wes.

The big black Dodge was cleaner than she expected, the interior smelling of oiled saddle leather and traces of a man's cologne. Shari sat in the front between Dallas and Stormy, while Wes regaled them with the men's exploits over the years.

"Hey, Dallas-remember that time in El Paso? That was the night you were hitting on that little brunette at the Three Jacks, that raunchy strip club downtown. Then her husband came in and started throwing punches." He grinned at Patience. "Damned near cut off Dallas's head with a busted beer bottle before we got the guy calmed down. 'Course it was the husband who wound up getting carried out of the place."

"I didn't know she was married," Dallas said darkly from behind the steering wheel.

"Then there was that time in Rapid City when you-"

"Knock it off, Wes," Dallas warned. "We can all do without the reminiscing-unless you want me to tell the ladies about that time in Las Vegas when you-"

"Okay, okay. I get the message." Wes chuckled and finally fell silent and a few minutes later, they pulled up in front of the restaurant, a place on Bessemer Street called El Paquito. Several other trucks Patience recognized from the rodeo grounds were already parked outside.

When they walked through the door, the rest of their party was seated at a long wooden table that ran the length of the room. She recognized Cy Jennings, the bullfighter, and a barrel racer named Tammy Stockton sitting next to Jade Egan.

The El Paquito had a rustic, authentic Mexican look with a round fireplace at one end, reed ceilings, and red tile floors. Wes sat down on the bench beside her and Dallas sat across from her on the opposite side, several seats down from Jade. No one seemed to notice Jade's frown, especially not Dallas, who appeared perfectly content where he was.

Wes, as usual, kick-started the conversation. Shari and Stormy had been calling her P.J. all evening and Wes had begun to pick it up.

"Hey, P.J.," he said. "Hotshot came up with a stone bruise this afternoon. Look's like he'll be down for a couple of days. You interested in doing a little sight-seeing tomorrow? There's a place called Enchanted Rock I heard about, maybe fifteen, twenty miles away. Supposed to be an interesting place."

Patience smiled. "Actually, I've read about it. It's a big pink granite boulder on something like six hundred acres. The Indians believed it held special powers."

"Really?" Tammy reached over to pick up a tortilla chip. "What kind of powers?"

"Well, they said lights flickered at the top and they could hear this eerie groaning-which, I guess is actually the rock heating up in the daytime and cooling down at night. The Comanche used to make human sacrifices to appease the gods who lived there."

"You're kidding." Shari dipped a chip into a bowl of salsa. "I thought only the Aztecs did that."

"In the early eighteen hundreds, one tribe captured the daughter of a rival chief and carried her off to the mountain. As the story goes, the woman's betrothed was a young Spanish don. When he found out Rosa had been stolen, he rounded up men and rode out to rescue her. He found her tied to a stake, piles of wood stacked around her, ready to go up in flames. They say the young don went nearly crazy. He rode into the Indian camp, fighting like a madman. In the end, he saved his beloved and they rode off together."

Patience smiled, until she realized the entire table had fallen silent and Dallas Kingman was staring at her as if she had grown two heads.

"How do you know all that? I thought you said you'd never been here."

"I-I told you-I read about it." In the fall, when she started her job as an assistant professor at Evergreen Junior College, the subject she would be teaching was the History of the American West. Texas was a particular favorite. Because the story was so romantic, she had remembered the legend of Enchanted Rock.

"That's pretty cool," Wes said. "If it's true."

She could have given him dates and names, but she had talked too much already.

"I'm hungry," she said a little too brightly. "What's everyone having to eat?"

Dallas studied Patience Sinclair. P.J., Shari called her. There was something incongruous about the woman, had been from the start. She was from Boston. Enchanted Mountain was thousands of miles away. Yet he would bet his last dollar her story was true. Apparently, she was smarter than he gave her credit for.

The waitress appeared and everyone began to order.

"Shari says you've been here before." Patience smiled at the group. "Anybody got any suggestions?"

A few seats down the table, Tammy spoke up. "We eat here whenever we're in town. Why don't you let us order for you?"

Patience closed her menu. "Thanks. That would be great."

"How about a beer?" Wes asked.

"Better yet, how about a Prairie Fire?" Jade suggested. "The first time you come to the El Paquito, you have to drink a shot of tequila. It's kind of a tradition."

Dallas started to say something. He knew what was in a Prairie Fire and it wasn't good. Down the table, Shari caught his eye. Looking resigned, she slowly shook her head, warning him to keep silent.

Patience was studying the others. He figured she could tell by the grins they tried to hold back that something was up. She turned and smiled at Jade. "Why not?"

Bottles of beer, icy margaritas, and a shot glass of tequila arrived, which the waitress set in front of Patience.

Everyone held up a glass. Dallas took a little longer raising his. He wasn't sure how he felt about Patience Sinclair, but he hated to see anyone put to this kind of test.

"Welcome to rodeo," Tammy said brightly.

"Down the hatch!" said Wes, taking a big swig of beer.

Patience lifted the shot glass. "Down the hatch," she repeated and tossed back the drink.

Dallas's teeth clenched in sympathy. A Prairie Fire was a shot of tequila with a dash of black pepper and the El Paquito's famous Hotter-Than-Hot Sauce, made with jabenero chili peppers. Patience's eyes filled with tears and her mouth opened and closed in an effort to drag in air, though none seemed forthcoming. Tears ran down her cheeks, which were the color of Tabasco, and she started to cough and wheeze. Grinning, Wes slapped her on the back while Tammy and the others fell over in gales of laughter.

It was a dirty thing to do to a greenhorn, but it really had become a sort of tradition.

"Bring her a glass of milk," Dallas told the waitress, who raced away the minute she saw Patience's empty drink.

"It'll get better in a minute," Dallas promised, though a minute with your entire body on fire felt more like an hour, as Dallas and the others knew firsthand.