Home on the Ranch: Colorado Cowboy

by Patricia Potter

  “You mean besides that tattoo on your arm, the watchful eyes, the way you sit. You look relaxed but you’re also ready to leap straight out of that chair if necessary.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re pretty observant.”

  “You have to be, in this business. I’ve managed some properties in places not as safe and law-abiding as Covenant Falls.” She grinned. “Also because Josh gave me some background on you. Military medic. Physical therapist. I’m aware of how difficult that program is.”

  “Tell me more about Josh,” he said. “It’s been years since I’ve seen him. The call from him came out of the blue. We served several tours together and he saved my ass more than once so I owe him.”

  “Oh, he was a real loner when he showed up here. Mad as could be at the world. But then he met Eve, the city manager, and her son. He and his partner built this inn. He and a former SEAL are spearheading the program that brings you here. But you’ll learn all this later. I’m not sure of your role, though,” she added cautiously.

  “Josh wants me to look over the physical therapy program and determine how to improve it as far as physical fitness goes. I understand some of the vets are in poor physical condition when they arrive here. He also wants advice in opening it to physically disabled vets. But now I need a place to stay for both the dog and myself. Maybe a campground...”

  “None around here with any amenities like showers,” she said, and her defenses collapsed. He was obviously tired and worried about a dog that wasn’t his. Couldn’t be a serial killer. At least she didn’t think so, and she could deal with anything less than that. She’d wanted to get a feel for him before she made the offer she’d been toying with. While he looked formidable, there was also patience. Probably more than she would have had in similar circumstances.

  In those few seconds she made up her mind. “I have a cottage a half mile from here. There’s an extra room and bath. You’re welcome to it. Breakfast goes along with it.”

  She saw him glance at her empty ring finger. He hesitated. “What about your family...?”

  “I live alone except for Vagabond,” she said. “I’ve rented out rooms in the house before when the inn was full. More importantly, you’re a friend of Josh and that goes a long way in Covenant Falls.”

  “Vagabond?” he asked with a raised eyebrow that made him look even more rakish.

  “A freeloader,” she said. “A cat.”

  “Isn’t the offer a bit reckless?”

  “Vagabond is very protective,” she said.

  An eyebrow rose again. “Are you sure?”

  “About the cat?” She purposely misread his question. “Yep. She’s a scrapper. Scared the wits out of me when I accidentally stepped on her tail. And,” she added, “I know karate. For backup.”

  That produced the hint of a smile. “Warning taken.”

  “I also trust Josh and, therefore, I trust you.”

  He nodded. “In that case, I accept. You have no idea how much I want to clean up.”

  She looked at him, her gaze running over the stained clothes and rumpled hair. “I get that.”

  “That bad?”

  “I’ve seen worse. We better go. Your dog was stirring when I came in.”

  “He’s not my dog.”

  “Well, since he’s in your possession, he is at the moment.”

  “I’m hoping your veterinarian can find Hobo a home.”

  “Hobo?”

  “I had to call him something, and he hitched a ride with me.”

  “What prevents you from keeping him?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not anywhere long and I travel on my bike. Obviously not the best life for a dog.”

  “No physical home?”

  “Nope,” he replied. “I like living without permanent walls.”

  “Why?” she asked. She scolded herself for being intrusive, but then he was staying at her home. Shouldn’t she know something about him other than his friendship with her boss?

  He shrugged. “No one can tear them down or take them away.”

  It was a cryptic answer that was intriguing, but his expression did not invite exploration.

  “And you obviously travel light, too.”

  “I got used to it in the army. I discovered I really didn’t need a lot of things. I like the freedom of not owning much. Nothing to lose or worry about.”

  “And when it rains and snows and sleets?”

  “I find a cubbyhole and burrow inside.”

  She looked at his long, hard frame again stretched over the chair. Burrowing didn’t seem like a good option to her. He’d need too large a cubbyhole.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” she surrendered. Obviously he was closing the door on that topic.

  He hadn’t left a crumb behind from his meal. He started to neatly stack the few dishes.

  “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “The night manager will take care of it.”

  He shrugged. “Habit. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

  “You’re in an inn,” she said in a half-stern voice, “that takes pride in catering to guests.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Most of the time,” she amended primly. “There are exceptions when the inn is not kept informed.”

  “Point taken,” he said with the first real smile she’d seen. She got the impression he didn’t do that often.

  “I’ll meet you at the door,” she said. “I have to talk to my night manager first.” She paused, then added, “Do you want to ride with me or follow on the motorcycle?”

  “The bike,” he said. “Everything I own is on it. But I have to warn you, the dog is a little...dirty.”

  She wondered if the dog looked as disreputable as her guest did at the moment. His lips turned up at the corner as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. It was unnerving.

  “He can get a bath at my house. I’ll grab a few items from the kitchen.” She veered off toward the front desk as he waited. She was back in minutes with a box. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Chapter 3

  On the drive to her house, Susan couldn’t help but wonder if her invitation was the brightest idea she’d ever had, especially when she heard the loud sound of the motorcycle following behind her.

  She was used to Covenant Falls and its neighborly ways and generous hearts. Everyone helped everyone else, and all the veterans who’d arrived in the past three years had proved to be of the same mold. If they weren’t when they arrived, they certainly were after arriving.

  She was happier in their ranks than any time in her previous adult life. They were all in this together, and “this” was growing the town while leaving its unique character intact. In the process her own life had changed. She owed that to Josh. As far as she was concerned, he could do no wrong.

  This guy was his friend. A fellow Ranger. She’d had her doubts when she first saw him. He looked more like an outlaw than a physical therapist. She’d learned, though, that the incoming veterans turned out to be great guys, and she warned herself not to prejudge the newest one.

  She also knew that if he got out of line, Josh and the others would make him very, very sorry, friends or not. Among the vets, she was treated like a sister, and that was great. Growing up, she’d been a tomboy who was more comfortable among boys than girls. She’d been equal among them in racing horses and some sports.

  She’d also been perfectly honest when she’d told Ross Taylor she knew karate. She’d been vulnerable once. She intended never to repeat that mistake.

  So she felt safe enough. Physically, at least. She wasn’t so sure about the rest of her emotions. It had been a long time since any guy had sparked her interest. She’d been too badly burned. Yet despite the rough appearance of her surprise guest, she was intrigued. A physical therapist that lived on a motorcycle. A warrior
who helped people heal.

  No more time to question your decision. It took only minutes to arrive at her cottage. She’d bought it for a fraction of its worth when the owner died without heirs and the property reverted to the bank.

  She glanced in the rearview mirror. Ross Taylor was right behind her. She parked in front of the house and signaled him to go into the unattached garage, which she’d left open in her rush to the inn.

  She tried not to think about her elderly neighbors and his bike’s thunderous approach. Most of them would be asleep but then there was the morning to consider.

  One of the joys of a small town was everyone knew everyone. One of the problems with a small town was everyone knew everyone’s business. She shrugged. She could explain later.

  Susan left the Jeep on the street, met Ross Taylor in the garage and turned on the interior light. She watched as he unbuckled two bulging saddlebags from the front of the bike and threw them over his left shoulder, then unbuckled one of two large containers from a platform at the rear of the bike.

  He opened one and lifted out the scruffiest-looking dog she’d ever seen. It was small—about the size of a small terrier—and its leg was bandaged. The animal was brown, but she suspected several layers of dirt had darkened its color. At least one flea was obvious, and Susan knew their relatives were hiding in the thick, matted fur.

  The dog stared back at her with suspicion.

  She reached out a hand. The dog flinched and uttered a warning growl.

  “He’s not sure who is friend and who is foe,” Ross said. “I think he’s seen some rough times.” He looked up. “Is there part of a lawn he could sprinkle for a few minutes?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Pick any place in the front yard, then we’ll manage a bath.” We? Did she really say that?

  Her guest nodded and gently—for a big man—lowered the dog to a green spot next to the garage. The dog didn’t waste time. He awkwardly lifted a leg while balancing on the two good legs and the one with a cast.

  The dog looked like a combination of more than a few breeds. Even under the best of circumstances she doubted he would be handsome. His fur was long and matted and he definitely had an odor about him. His eyes were a little clouded. His toenails looked as long as an eagle’s talons. He was also very thin.

  Ross Taylor gave her a wry smile. “He looked even worse a few hours ago. Some water and food has helped.”

  “I’m surprised he did well in that basket.”

  “I have some mild sedatives in my first aid kit and gave him one. He slept most of the way. We made stops for water and for him to relieve himself.”

  “You said you found him on the road?”

  “Some bastard shot him and left him on a road with no traffic. If he hadn’t moved when I rode past, I wouldn’t have noticed. He’s a little survivor.”

  His crooked grin dissolved all the irritation she’d felt at being so rudely interrupted from a deserved rest.

  “I’d planned to sneak him into the inn and give him a bath before anyone saw him,” he continued. His expression was disarming. He looked like a boy caught snatching a piece of pie. It was more than a little disconcerting on a man who radiated self-confidence.

  “Hopefully he’ll make a full recovery,” he added. “I want him to find a good home with kids and a family.”

  She waited as the dog hobbled awkwardly over the grass, this time stopping to hunch up and finish his chore.

  “I like your Jeep,” he said, seeming a little surprised at her transportation.

  “I bought it from Josh. It’s great for going up into the mountains.”

  He was about to say something but then Hobo limped over to Ross Taylor and waited to be lifted.

  Her guest picked up Hobo with a tenderness that impressed her. She didn’t want to be affected by it but, hells bells, she was.

  She led the way to the front door and opened it.

  “No key?” he asked without moving.

  “We’re not exactly a crime center,” she said. “There hasn’t been a robbery or break-in since I moved back here.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “A little more than five years ago, but I’m a native of Covenant Falls. My mother grew up here as did her mother and hers before that. Very little had changed in those years. Then Josh Manning appeared, then another veteran, and a third. Things started to change. In a good way.”

  “It’s hard to imagine him as a builder and a businessman,” her visitor said as he went through the door and she closed it behind him. “He was one of the toughest, no-nonsense staff sergeants in the army.”

  “He isn’t much at explaining himself,” she said with a smile. “He just likes to throw people into quicksand and see what happens.”

  “Are you one of those people?”

  “I guess I am,” Susan admitted.

  “Does it work?”

  “So far.” Until today. She changed the subject. “You said the dog needs a bath. Isn’t it going to be difficult with that leg?”

  “Let’s say I doubt if it’s easy. But it has to be done. I suspect there’s a few fleas along with dirt.”

  “I can wrap that leg in some plastic baggies and you can use the hand spray in the bathtub to wash him,” she volunteered, surprising herself. But she knew how difficult it was to wash an uncooperative animal.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  Vagabond chose that moment to stride in from her favorite perch on the bookcase just below a window in the kitchen. She was not the most attractive cat in the neighborhood. She had her share of feral cat scars and was a wretched shade of orange. She purred a greeting until she saw the dog in Ross Taylor’s arm. Her back went up and she hissed.

  Susan couldn’t blame the cat. She felt somewhat the same way about the intrusion. She was also struck by the similarity of names. Vagabond and Hobo. It was downright weird. It reflected similar thought patterns, and she didn’t like that idea at all. She had nothing in common with this man, outside of the connection with Josh.

  Vagabond retreated a few feet but not before expressing her irritation with an unholy squawk. Not a meow, but a high-pitched squawk.

  “I don’t think Hobo and I are welcome,” her guest opined.

  “She’ll adjust. For a feral cat, she’s turned into a diva,” Susan said. “I never had a cat before. Always dogs when I was a kid. But Vagabond just showed up here one day and decided to stay. I didn’t have much say in the matter.”

  “Then we have something in common,” he said. “I didn’t have much choice either, but this is a fleeting relationship. I hope to find him a home as soon as I see the veterinarian.’’

  Their relationship would be fleeting, as well. They obviously didn’t have much in common except falling victim to animals. He was overpowering, both physically and, well, personally. He dominated the space around him. And even with the fuzz on his face and being a sartorial disaster, he caused warning bells to ring in her. A small—very small—part of her might be just a little attracted to him, but she’d ignore that.

  She counted the strikes against him. He rode a motorcycle. He was far too sure of himself. He was here temporarily. He was obviously a wanderer.

  She felt she was inviting a tornado into her peaceful home.

  “Sorry for ruining your night,” he said with the first hint of concern. “I should have persisted in calling the inn.”

  “And then a very nice elderly couple would have had a dangerous drive home,” she said.

  “I just assumed there would be plenty of rooms.”

  “Don’t apologize,” she said. “The fault is mine. Not yours. The room was reserved for you.” She paused, then added, “I’ll show you upstairs and you can settle in while I gather up some extra towels.”

  She led the way up the stairs. The upstairs included two bedrooms and a bath. She’d
turned the larger one into a guest room and the smaller one into a study/office/library. There was also a full bath in addition to the one downstairs that she usually used.

  “This way,” she said, and led him to the guest bedroom. She opened the door and waited while he entered and surveyed the room before placing the saddlebags on a chair.

  “Nice,” he said. “I think I’d better put Hobo in a bath before putting him down anywhere.”

  “Do you have dog shampoo?”

  He looked blank for a moment. “I thought I could use human soap. The kind you find in hotels.”

  “You’ve never had a dog before?”

  “When I was young. He was a ranch dog. He stayed outside and didn’t get baths unless he ran into a skunk or something equally as noxious, then it was a hose. I thought...hell, I guess I didn’t think. I should have bought some along the way.”

  “A ranch dog? You’ve lived on a ranch?”

  He hesitated, then replied, “It was a long time ago.” His tone warned her off the subject.

  She took the hint and said, “I use a liquid soap on my cat when she gets into something noxious. It’s gentle and also helps with fleas. I’ll bring a cup up with those towels. In the meantime, rub him around the ears and stomach to relax him.”

  “Thanks,” he said with obvious relief. “I don’t know if he’s ever had a bath before. He sure as hell doesn’t look like it.”

  “I have a laundry basket downstairs that will serve as a good bed for your dog.”

  “He’s not my... “

  “I know. That’s what I kept telling Vagabond. She wasn’t my cat, just an outside freeloader. Didn’t do any good. An animal seems to pick their own person. Doesn’t matter whether that person agrees or not. I certainly didn’t. You just kinda get stuck and then, later, you’re glad you got there.”

  His expression told her he had no intention of getting stuck.

  She ignored it. “You think you can do it on your own?”

  “Sure. It’s just a bath,” he said with male confidence.

  She looked at the dog now nestled in his lap. “You two seem to be getting on rather well,” she said.