by Mia Ross
“Is that your secret?”
“That, and not fretting over how to wrangle a tie.”
She laughed again, and he congratulated himself on averting a possibly difficult conversation neither one of them was eager to have. From appetizers through two enormous steaks, they chatted pleasantly about everything and nothing. It was the kind of evening they’d enjoyed so many times during their lifelong connection, and Ty hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until now.
“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar man’s voice said from behind him. “Are you Ty Wilkins?”
Glancing over his shoulder, Ty saw a middle-aged couple dressed in the classy, conservative manner that he’d noticed on pretty much everyone in the spacious dining room. Getting to his feet, he smiled at them. “Yes, sir, I am. Can I help you?”
He was flabbergasted when the man handed him a piece of paper and a sleek silver pen. “Would you mind giving us an autograph? We saw you compete in Austin a couple of years ago and became instant fans.”
That was a new one. Usually, people who enjoyed watching him ride slapped him on the back and offered to buy him a drink. “Sure. Who should I make it out to?”
“Neil and Georgia Fitzpatrick,” the woman prompted him. “And thank you so much.”
“You’re very welcome.” While he wrote, for some reason her name was sounding familiar to him. When he realized why, he handed the signed napkin back with a grin. “You wouldn’t be Congresswoman Georgia Fitzpatrick? Chair of the Natural Resources Committee?”
“Why, yes, I am,” she replied, clearly flattered that he knew who she was. Smiling down at Morgan, she offered a hand draped in a tasteful combination of gold and diamonds. “I recognize you from your picture on the Mustang Ridge Conservancy’s website. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Whittaker.”
“And you, too. Would you two like to join us for dessert?”
Brilliant, Ty thought as the friendly couple quickly agreed. Just as she’d done with Craig, Morgan had landed on the best way to make her case: by dazzling her audience. Once the waiter had brought them all coffee, their chance encounter quickly moved from pleasantries to what had brought them across the country in the first place.
“More of our wild places are disappearing every day,” the congresswoman lamented, getting a grim nod from her husband. “It’s heartening to discover that there are young people dedicated to preserving them for future generations.”
“My family’s been in Mustang Ridge since 1882, before Montana was a state,” Morgan told her in an honest, straightforward manner that was clearly charming their unforeseen guests. “I want my daughters to grow up country girls like I did, hiking up in the Bridger Mountains, riding their ponies out on the prairie. I recognize that we need to hunt for new sources of energy, but the likelihood of finding anything in our area is remote, at best. I’m not sure why Cartwright Energy is even bothering with us.”
Georgia traded a long look with her husband, who frowned into his half-empty coffee cup. Obviously choosing his words carefully, he said, “I’m on the legal counsel team for a lawsuit against, among others, Cartwright Energy. While I can’t comment on that specifically, I can tell you that they’ve earned a reputation for digging first and analyzing later.”
“Why?” Ty asked, baffled by the nonsensical approach.
“That’s an excellent question, son, and one we’re trying to answer without much success. But we’ll keep at it until we have.”
Grinning, Ty did something he once thought he’d never do. Toasted a lawyer. “To stubbornness and good sense.”
They clanked their cups while the women looked on, smiling at them as if they were lunatics.
After a few more pleasant minutes, Neil stood and held out an arm for his wife. “Thank you for indulging us. We’ll leave you to enjoy your desserts in peace.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing you both tomorrow,” Georgia said, beaming at each of them in turn before walking away with her husband.
“That was kinda cool,” Ty announced.
“Yeah, now that I know someone on the committee besides Craig, the job feels a little less intimidating.”
She was still nervous, though. While she was as determined as ever to make the most of the opportunity, her voice had an uncertain thread running through it. Hoping to ease her mind, he said, “You don’t just know someone. You know the head honcho. That’s gonna help a lot.”
“I hope so.”
Ty was hunting for a way to lift her spirits when the waiter came over and offered them a long silver tray of bite-size desserts. Ty was pretty well stuffed, but as Morgan’s face lit up in anticipation, he decided it wouldn’t kill him to try a few.
“Just leave it,” he suggested with a grin. The server smiled back and set the tray in the center of the table before leaving them to their treats.
“These are awesome,” Ty announced, pointing to the tiny layer cake covered in pale green frosting.
“They all are,” she said, leaning back with a sigh. “I’ve never had a meal like this anywhere. It was really nice of Craig to arrange it for us.”
“Yeah, he’s a great guy.”
Morgan eyed him curiously. “Why am I getting the feeling you don’t really mean that?”
He shrugged, but she kept staring at him until he wanted to squirm. “Okay, fine. When he came out to Mustang Ridge, it was pretty easy to see that he liked you.”
“That’s good, because I wanted him to.”
“Yeah, that was obvious.” Ty heard the envy in his voice, and it made him cringe. Craig’s comment that day about there being something between Ty and Morgan popped up in his memory, and he did his best to shrug it off. Morgan could flirt with any guy she chose, date him if she wanted to. It was none of his business. Feeling like an idiot, he tried to cover his tracks. “You two should get together while we’re here.”
“We are.” Ty couldn’t help grimacing, and for some crazy reason, she smiled. “Ty, are you jealous of Craig?”
“Course not.” She leveled a give-me-a-break look at him, and he circled his neck to loosen the muscles that had knotted up during their uncomfortable exchange. “All right, maybe a little. He’s smart and smooth, and he probably knows how to do his own tie.”
Shaking her head, she laughed. “Moron. I meant Craig and I will see each other at the presentation tomorrow. I’m not interested in him romantically. I wanted him to like me so he’d pay more attention to the conservancy and what we’re trying to accomplish. You know, that old saying about catching more flies with honey?”
“So, it wasn’t flirting but strategy. Well, now—that’s a horse of a different color.”
She studied him across the table for long enough that he started to get that squirmy feeling again. When she finally spoke, he braced himself for a good shot.
Instead, very quietly she asked, “Why do you even care?”
It was an excellent question, and one he didn’t currently have a decent answer for. He searched for a humorous comeback but came up empty. So he went with the truth. “I’m not sure. I just do.”
The corner of her mouth quirked into a very feminine smirk. “That’s kind of flattering.”
Ty let out a relieved sigh and managed to chuckle at his own foolishness. “That’s good, ’cause from where I’m sitting, it sounded pretty lame.”
“As an explanation, it was. But I appreciate you being honest with me.”
Something between them had changed since she’d forgiven him. While he couldn’t begin to identify what it might be, his gut was telling him to take advantage of some precious time alone with Morgan. Standing, he pulled out her chair for her. “I’ve never been to Washington. How ’bout you?”
“This is my first visit.”
Offering his arm to her, he grinned. “Then let’s go have ourselves an adventure. Whattya say?”
> After a moment, the feistiest, most maddening woman he’d ever known stood and took his arm. “I say let’s go.”
Outside, he noticed that a large section of pavement had been blocked off in paint. Looking farther down the street, he saw what must have been there earlier and just couldn’t help himself.
Looking down at Morgan, he asked, “Wanna take a carriage ride?”
“Seriously? Did you look at the prices?”
“I saved a nice chunk of change on dinner, so I can swing it. Come on—it’ll be fun. Long as you don’t mind letting someone else handle the horses you’re riding behind.”
“So funny,” she retorted, but let him tug her toward the platform beside a dainty copper-colored mare and a shiny black carriage. Typical cowgirl, she stepped up to the horse and offered a hand for her to sniff. “Hey there, pretty girl. What’s your name?”
“Cecilia,” the driver answered, touching the tip of his top hat in a quaint gesture that matched his vintage suit. “And I’m Tom.”
“Gorgeous mare,” Ty said. “What kind is she?”
The driver beamed as if Ty had just complimented him on one of his children. “She’s a purebred Morgan, born and raised on my family’s farm in Maryland.”
Ty grinned at the odd coincidence of the horse’s breed matching Morgan’s name. “Well, that settles it. This is the one for us. We’ve never been to Washington, so how long does it take to see everything on your route?”
“An hour.” After Ty handed over the money to cover it, he helped Morgan into the plush seat and then climbed up after her. Once they were settled, Tom prompted his horse with a simple “Let’s go, Cecilia,” and they were off.
The carriage moved at a much slower pace than the tour buses that were still darting from one sight to another, which gave them time to enjoy the balmy summer evening. Unlike the other tourists, they were treated to the sounds of a jazz band playing in a small park, and the scent of cinnamon-sugar-coated pecans wafting from a vendor’s cart on the sidewalk.
“This was a meeting place for the government in the early days,” Tom told them, pointing out an unassuming building in a row of other Federal-style structures. “They didn’t have a name for it back then, but these days, we call it the Patriot. The man who owned it was part of George Washington’s spy ring. His wife used to send coded messages to the passing American troops by how she hung her laundry out on washday.”
“You’re kidding,” Ty commented, suspecting it was just some local folklore intended to charm the visitors.
“I’ve read about Washington’s spies,” Morgan said. “Without them, we never would’ve won the Revolutionary War.”
“It’s true,” Tom agreed. “Brilliant military tactics and determination weren’t enough to get the job done when we were outnumbered and outgunned. It just goes to show what regular people can accomplish when they all pull together for the same cause.”
“True enough,” Ty acknowledged, grinning over at Morgan. “I think there’s a message for us in there, too.”
“I think you’re right. Thanks for suggesting we do this,” she added with a smile. “It’s the perfect way to unwind after a long day.”
Resting her head on his shoulder, she let out a contented sigh that let him know she’d finally relaxed. Being cozied up in a carriage with her wasn’t something he could have anticipated, but now that they were here, he couldn’t imagine any place he’d rather be. Stretching his arm along the back of the low seat, he dropped a kiss on top of her head. “Anytime.”
It had been an impulsive thing to do, and he half expected her to pull away from him to the opposite end of the seat. To his relief, she cuddled against him in a way he’d once thought he’d never experience again with her.
So, while Tom continued their entertaining and informative tour, Ty settled back to enjoy himself. In the warm evening air, he drank in the sensation of being with the only woman he’d ever met who could melt his heart with one look and cut him off at the knees with the next.
A romantic carriage ride through the historic district of Washington hadn’t been part of the plan when he’d agreed to accompany Morgan on this trip. But it was the kind of surprise he could definitely live with.
* * *
Morgan had taken on plenty of challenges in her life.
She’d fallen off horses at a gallop, whipped around barrels at an angle that left her head dangling within inches of the hard metal. She’d even run off a full-grown cougar that had been eyeing a newborn mustang, sizing it up for his next meal. And when Allie had been diagnosed with autism, she’d fought to make sure her daughter got every last scrap of help she could find.
But nothing had prepared her for staring down a panel of immaculately dressed politicians who were politely sitting in their chairs, waiting for her to speak.
There were more than she’d anticipated, each sitting in front of a sign that listed their name and which state they represented. From Colorado, Utah and Wyoming, all the way to Alaska, they were from places that had a keen interest in responsibly developing the natural resources that lay under America’s soil. She knew that their shared concern for the environment should have made her feel more comfortable approaching them. But it didn’t.
She’d practiced this speech in front of Ty and her family many times, but at this moment she couldn’t recall how she’d decided to begin her presentation. She wasn’t allowed to stand or move around, because she had to stay behind the microphone on the table in front of her so everyone could hear her. Her siblings called her Morgan the Brave, and she was glad they weren’t here to see this. She was fairly certain she was an unflattering shade of green, and she’d rather keep this bout of queasiness to herself.
Beside her, cool as ever, sat Ty, who was eyeing her with a sympathetic expression. Covering the mike, he leaned in and murmured, “They wanna hear what you have to say, Morgan. Show ’em why Mustang Ridge is worth saving.”
Mustang Ridge is worth saving.
His last words echoed in her mind, tripping some kind of switch that calmed her jangling nerves enough for her to think. And then, like a bolt of friendly lightning, her opening appeared in her mind, and she silently thanked God for the assist.
“Hello, my name is Morgan Whittaker, and I’ve come here from Mustang Ridge, Montana. It’s a picturesque small town near the Bridger Mountains, and my family has been there since 1882, before Montana was even a state.”
A quick glance at Georgia showed her that the chair recognized the line from last night, and she got a quick nod of approval. “Generations of families have raised their children there, and I’m no exception.” Taking out a large photo of the girls, she turned it for them to see and smiled. “These are my little cowgirls, Allie and Hannah. I want them and their friends to be able to grow up in the same beautiful, unspoiled place I did.”
“They’re adorable,” one of the men commented, giving her a grandfatherly smile. “How old are they?”
She recognized that he was trying to put her at ease, and she thanked him with a smile of her own. “Six. They’re twins.”
There were murmurs of admiration, and then Georgia motioned for her to continue.
“And these,” Morgan went on, taking up the next photo, a long panoramic shot of the mustangs coming through their valley at a dead run, “are descendants of the original herds that gave our town its name. The Mustang Ridge Conservancy is a group of citizen volunteers determined to protect them and the area around us from energy companies that have a tendency to dig first and analyze later.”
She’d borrowed the phrase from Neil Fitzpatrick, and again Georgia nodded slightly. Morgan’s pitch wasn’t overly long, since her audience of guinea pigs had suggested it was best to keep it simple and leave ample time for questions. When she was finished, she held her hands out in the open-minded gesture Jessie had recommended. “If you have questions, I’ll be
happy to try to answer them.”
“I have one,” Craig Barlowe responded, then added his name as if they hadn’t met before. Morgan considered that silly theatrics, but he was the expert, so she’d gone along with the ruse when he proposed it. “Is that the rodeo champion Ty Wilkins sitting next to you?”
“Yes, sir,” Ty replied smoothly, leaning forward on his elbows in a casual pose to speak into the microphone. “Mustang Ridge is my hometown, and I’m proud to help out this worthy cause however I can.”
His short, direct comment unleashed a ripple of hushed side conversations, and she was amazed by the effect his presence had on the committee members. Grudgingly, she had to admit that Craig had been dead-on about including Ty in their efforts here, and she pushed the mike toward him in a silent bid to take over.
“That being said,” he went on, nudging the mike back, “I’m just a foot soldier in this fight. Morgan’s built the conservancy from the ground up, and she’s our general. She’s the one you need to hear from.”
Craig smothered a grin, but not before she noticed it. They’d set this up without telling her, she realized, and it had worked perfectly. These were the kind of folks who loved a good rodeo, and they clearly knew Ty, at least by reputation. But he’d come up with a tactic for handing off their questions to her, endorsing her without overshadowing her.
Rodeo star Tyler Wilkins had never been one to step away from the spotlight and let someone else shine in his place. But the man he’d become had done just that, and she made a mental note to thank him later. After she recovered from her impending nervous breakdown, anyway.
She didn’t know how long she fielded questions, and she lost track of how many there were. Most of them were pertinent, while others seemed to be a way to show interest without making a commitment to support their petition to gain governmental protection for the vast expanse of land identified on the latest survey of Mustang Ridge. The mapping had cost a small fortune, but as they passed it along the row to study, several people’s reactions told her that the money had been well spent.
