by Helen Lacey
Ranchers like him. Right.
“Let’s get something straight, here and now,” he said, feeling cornered for some reason, and wondering why he liked it. “My mother might have given you the go-ahead to bedevil all the horses you can rustle up on this spread, but that’s as far as it goes. You aren’t going to study me.”
“Are you saying you don’t obey your mother?” she asked sweetly.
“That’s it,” he answered, without a trace of goodwill. By then, Drake’s mood was back on a downhill slide. What was he doing out here in the damn rain, bantering with some self-proclaimed intellectual? He wasn’t just cold, tired and wet, he was hungry, since all he’d had before leaving the house this morning was a slice of toast and a cup of coffee. He’d been in a hurry to get started, and now his blood sugar had dropped to the soles of his boots, and the effect on his disposition was not pretty.
The saddle leather creaked as he bent toward her. “Listen, Ms. Whoever-you-are, I don’t give a rat’s ass about your thesis, or your theories about ranchers and wild horses, either. Do whatever it is you do, stay out of my way and try not to get yourself killed while you’re at it.”
She didn’t bat an eye. “Hale,” she announced brightly, as though he hadn’t spoken. “My name is Lucinda Hale, but everybody calls me Luce.”
He inhaled a long, deep breath. If he’d ever had that much trouble learning a woman’s name before, he didn’t recall the occasion. “Ms. Hale, then,” he began, tugging at the brim of his hat in a gesture that was more automatic than cordial. “I’ll leave you to it. While I’m sure your work is absolutely fascinating, not to mention vital to the future of the planet, I have plenty of my own to do. In short, while I’ve enjoyed shadowboxing with you, I’m fresh out of leisure time.”
He might’ve been talking to the barn wall. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said cheerfully. “I wouldn’t dream of interfering. I’ll be an observer, that’s all. Watching, figuring out how things work, making a few notes. You won’t even know I’m around.”
Drake bit back a terse reply and reined his horse away, although he didn’t use his heels. The dogs, still fascinated by the whole scenario, sat tight. “You’re right, Ms. Hale. I won’t know you’re around, because you won’t be. Not around me, that is.”
“You really are a very difficult man,” she observed almost sadly. “Surely you can see the value of my project. Interactions between wild animals, domesticated ones and human beings?”
* * *
LUCE WAS COLD, wet, a little amused and very intrigued.
Drake Carson was gawking at her as though she’d just popped in from a neighboring dimension, wearing a tutu and waving a wand. His two beautiful dogs, waiting obediently for some word or gesture from their master, seemed equally curious.
The consternation on the man’s face was absolutely priceless.
And a very handsome face it was, at least what she could see of it, shadowed by the brim of his hat the way it was. If he resembled his younger brother, Mace, whom she’d met earlier that day, he was one very impressive man.
She decided to push him a bit, just to see what happened. “You run this ranch, don’t you?”
“I do my best.”
She liked his voice, which was a deep, slow drawl now, not mocking like before. “Then you’re the one I want.”
Open mouth, she thought, insert foot.
“For my project, I mean,” she added hastily.
His strong jawline tightened visibly. “I don’t have time to babysit you,” he said. “This is a working ranch, not a resort.”
“As I’ve said repeatedly, Mr. Carson, you won’t have to do any such thing. I can take care of myself, and I promise you, I won’t be underfoot.”
He seemed unconvinced. And still irritated in the extreme.
But he didn’t ride away.
Luce had already been warned that Drake wouldn’t take to her project, but somehow she hadn’t expected this much resistance. She was normally a persuasive person, and reasonable, too.
Of course, it helped if the other person was somewhat agreeable.
Mentally, she cataloged the things she’d learned about Drake Carson.
He was in charge of the ranch, which spanned thousands of acres and was home to lots of cattle and horses, as well as wildlife. The Carsons had very deep roots in Bliss County, Wyoming, going back several generations. He loved the outdoors, and he was good with animals, particularly horses.
He was, in fact, a true cowboy.
He was also on the quiet side, solitary by nature, slow to anger—but when he did get mad, he could be formidable. At thirty-two, Drake had never been married; he was college-educated, and once he’d gotten his degree—land management and animal husbandry—he’d come straight back to the ranch, having no desire to live anywhere else. He worked from sunrise to sunset and often longer.
Harry, the Carsons’ housekeeper, whose real name was Harriet Armstrong, had dished up some sort of heavenly pie when Luce had arrived at the main ranch house fairly early in the day. As soon as Harry understood who Luce was and why she was there, she’d proceeded to spill information about Drake at a steady clip.
Luce had encountered Mace Carson, Drake’s younger brother, very briefly, when he’d come in from the family vineyard expressly for a piece of pie. Harry had introduced them and explained Luce’s mission—i.e., to gather material for her dissertation and interview Drake in depth, thus getting the rancher’s perspective.
Mace had smiled slightly and shaken his head in response to Harry’s briefing. “I’m glad you’re here, Ms. Hale, but I’m afraid my brother isn’t going to be a whole lot of use as a research subject. He’s into his work and not much else, and he doesn’t like to be distracted from whatever he’s got scheduled for the day. Makes him testy.”
A quick glance in Harry’s direction had confirmed the sinking sensation Mace’s words produced. The older woman had given a small, reluctant nod of agreement.
Well, Luce thought now, standing face-to-horse with Drake, they’d certainly known what they were talking about, Mace and Harry both.
Drake was definitely testy.
He stared grimly into the rainy distance for a long moment, then muttered, “As if that damn stallion wasn’t enough to get under my hide like a nasty itch.”
“Cheer up,” Luce said. She loved a challenge. “I’m here to help.”
Drake gave her a long, level look. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” he asked very slowly, and without a hint of humor. He flung out his free hand, making his point, the reins resting easily in the other one. “My problems are over.”
“Didn’t you say you were leaving?” Luce asked.
He opened his mouth, closed it again, evidently reconsidering whatever he’d been about to say. Finally, with a hoarse note in his voice, he went on. “I planned to,” he said. “But if I did, you’d be out here alone.” He looked around. “Where’s your horse? You won’t be getting close to those critters again today. The stallion will see to that.”
Luce’s interest was genuine. “You sound as if you know him pretty well.”
“We understand each other, all right,” Drake said. “We should. We’ve been playing this game for a while now.”
That was going in her notes.
She shook her head in belated answer to his question about her means of transportation. “I don’t have a horse,” she explained. “I parked my car at your place and hiked out here.”
The day had been breathtakingly beautiful, before the clouds lowered and thickened and began dumping rain. She’d hiked in all the western states and in Europe, and this was some gorgeous country. The Grand Tetons were just that. Grand.
“The house is a long way from here. You came all this way on foot?” Drake frowned at her. “Did my mother know you were c
razy when she agreed to let you do your study here?”
“I actually enjoy hiking. A little rain doesn’t bother me. I’ll take a hot shower when I get back to the house, change clothes and—”
“When you get back to the house?” he repeated warily. “You’re staying there?”
This was where she could tell him that Blythe Carson was an old friend of her mother’s, and she’d already been installed in one of the guest rooms, but she decided not to mention that just yet, in case he thought she was taking advantage. She was determined not to inconvenience the family, and if she felt she was imposing, she would move to a hotel. She’d planned to do just that, actually, but Blythe, hospitable woman that she was, wouldn’t hear of it. Lord knew there was plenty of room, she’d said, and it wouldn’t make any sense to drive back and forth from town when Luce’s work was right here on the ranch.
“You live in a beautiful house, by the way,” she said, trying to smooth things over a little. “Not what I expected to find out here in the wide-open spaces. All those chandeliers and oil paintings and gorgeous antiques.” Was she jabbering? Yes. She definitely was, and she couldn’t seem to stop. “I mean, it’s hardly the Ponderosa.” She beamed a smile at Drake. “I was planning to check into a hotel, or pitch a tent at one of the campgrounds, but your mother wanted no part of that idea, so...well, here I am.” Why couldn’t she just shut up? “My room has a fabulous view. It’ll be incredible, waking up to those mountains every morning.”
Drake, understandably, was still a few beats behind, and little wonder, the way she’d been prattling. “You’re staying with us?”
Hadn’t she just said that?
She smiled her most ingenuous smile. “How else can I observe you in your native habitat?” The truth was, she intended to camp at least part of the time, provided the weather improved, simply because she wanted to enjoy the outdoors.
Drake himself was one of the reasons she’d chosen the area for her research work, but he didn’t know that. He was well respected, a rancher’s rancher, with a reputation for hard work, integrity and intelligence.
She’d known, even before Harry filled her in on the more personal aspects of Drake’s life, that he was an animal advocate, as well as a prominent rancher, that he’d minored in ecology. She’d first seen his name in print when she was still an undergrad, just a quote in an article, expressing his belief that running a large cattle operation could and should be done without endangering wildlife or the environment. Knowing that her mother and Blythe Carson were close had been a deciding factor, too, of course—a way of gaining access.
She allowed herself a few minutes to study the man. He sat his horse confidently, relaxed and comfortable in the saddle, the reins loosely held. The well-trained animal stood there calmly, clipping grass but not moving otherwise during their discussion.
Drake broke into her reverie by saying, “Guess I’d better take you back before something happens to you.” He leaned toward her, reaching down. “Climb on.”
She looked at the proffered hand and bit her lip, hesitant to explain that, despite her consuming interest in horses, she wasn’t an experienced rider—the last time she’d been in the saddle, at summer camp when she was twelve, something had spooked her mount. She’d been thrown, breaking her collarbone and her right arm, and nearly trampled in the process.
Passion for horses or not, she was anything but confident.
She couldn’t tell him that, not after the exchange they’d just had. He would no doubt laugh or make some cutting remark, or both, and her pride smarted at the very idea.
Besides, she wouldn’t be holding the reins, handling the huge gelding; Drake would. And there was no denying the difficulties the weather presented, in terms of trailing the stallion and his mares from place to place.
She’d gotten some great footage during the afternoon, though, and made some useful notes, which meant the day wasn’t a total loss.
“My backpack’s heavy,” she pointed out, her drummed-up courage already faltering a little. The top of that horse was pretty far off the ground. She could climb mountains, for Pete’s sake, but that was small consolation; she’d been standing on her own two feet the whole time.
At last, Drake smiled, and the impact of that smile was palpable. He was still leaning toward her, still holding out his hand. “Starburst’s knees won’t buckle under the weight of a backpack,” he told her. “Or yours, either.”
The logic was sound, if not particularly comforting.
Drake slipped his booted foot out from the stirrup to make room for hers. “Come on. I’ll haul you up behind me.”
She handed up the backpack, sighed heavily. “Okay,” she said. Then, gamely, she took Drake’s hand. His grip was strong, and he swung her up behind him with no apparent effort.
It was easy to imagine this man working with horses, delivering breach calves and digging postholes for fences.
Settled on the animal’s broad back, Luce had no choice but to put her arms around Drake’s cowboy-lean waist and grip him like the jaws of life.
The rain was coming down harder, and conversation was impossible.
Gradually, Luce relaxed enough to loosen her hold on Drake’s middle.
A little, anyway.
Now that she was fairly sure she wasn’t facing certain death, Luce allowed herself to enjoy the ride. Intrepid hiker though she was, the thought of trudging back in the driving rain made her wince.
She hadn’t missed the irony of the situation, either. She wanted to study wild horses, but she was a rank greenhorn with a slew of sweaty-palmed phobias. Drake had surely noticed, skilled as he was, and he would have been well within his rights to comment.
He didn’t, though.
When they finally reached the ranch house, he was considerate enough not to grin when she slid clumsily off the horse and almost landed on her rear in a giant puddle. No, he simply tugged at the brim of his hat, suppressing a smile, and rode away without looking back.
Copyright © 2016 by Hometown Girl Makes Good, Inc.
ISBN-13: 9781488002694
The Cowgirl’s Forever Family
Copyright © 2016 by Helen Lacey
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