by Erin Bevan
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
The Ranch Hand
by
Erin Bevan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Ranch Hand
COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Erin Bevan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by RJ Morris
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Yellow Rose Edition, 2014
Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-489-3
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my family—thank you for believing in me.
Chapter 1
“I love you.” Jason nuzzled the auburn mane. This was the one and only female he’d ever said those words to.
“You making love to your favorite horse again?” Rick asked, walking into the barn.
He glared and locked the gate to Quick Feet’s pen. “What do you want?”
“Big Bill wants us all in his office to talk about the trail ride on Saturday.”
“All right, I’m coming.” Jason placed his hands on his hips and arched his back, stretching his spine. The trail ride was his favorite part of fall. Three nights, four days out in the open fields with the guys.
He ambled across the pasture to Big Bill’s shed, which housed his home office. Trevor and Rick had already grabbed the two available seats and were making smart ass remarks to each other. About what, he didn’t know. In his opinion, they were both morons. He leaned against the wall next to a giant picture of a duck.
“All right, settle down now. Shut up!” Big Bill hollered to Trevor and Rick. “I’ve got some things we need to discuss.” He walked around the front of his desk and propped himself against the filing cabinet, then took off his Stetson and tossed it on his chair where it landed with a thud. His shiny bald head reflected the harsh florescent lighting above. “Now, as you all know, we have the horse drive coming up Saturday, and we’re short two men.”
“Short two?” Rick interrupted Big Bill. “I thought we were only short Hank. Who else won’t be there?”
“Pete. Julie’s scheduled to pop any minute now, and you know how cranky she’s been. Pete’ll receive hell if he’s out on the drive when she goes into labor. Cell phone service is shoddy at best out in those parts. She’s afraid he might not get back in time.”
“What’re we gonna do?” Trevor extended his legs out in front of him, his fingers laced behind his head.
“If you boys would shut up a minute, I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do.” Big Bill glared at them. “I called a buddy of mine down in Texas. He’s got two hands he can spare for a few days. Says they’re real good riders, but have never done a horse drive before. They’ve done a few small cattle drives, but we all know this ain’t no damn cattle drive. They’re young, and eager to learn.”
“Hell, Big Bill, you’re sending us a bunch of wet behind the ear newbies?” Jason shouted and threw his hands in the air. “This ain’t no Texas panhandle, this here is Montana. We don’t have time to teach some greenhorn cattle herders what to do. Why don’t you get us somebody that knows what the hell they’re doin’? What about one of Brady’s men over at Horseman Ranch?”
His boss slapped a folder against the filing cabinet. “Listen here you boys, this is my damn ranch and we’ll run it my way. Now shut up and listen.” Big Bill’s face turned the same shade of red as his shirt. “Brady’s running his own cattle drive. He can’t spare any of his men, and you know damn well I don’t like Brady anyway. I’d rather eat horse shit than take a favor from him.” He paced in front of his desk. “My buddy, Joe, is sending Mike and Bobby tomorrow. They’re doing us a favor by comin’ all the way up here. You three will be nice, understand? Treat these guys like they were our own.”
“Yeah, sure,” Rick mumbled.
“That’s better.” Big Bill walked behind his desk. “The ride starts at six a.m. Saturday morning. We should be back here around five on Wednesday afternoon. Mary and her crew will be settin’ up tents for us at our normal stopping points and provide us with a hot meal every night. I want you boys to be sure you show your appreciation.”
“Is Sue Ellen coming? I wouldn’t mind showing her my appreciation.” Rick chuckled and dodged a blow from Trevor.
“That’s my sister you’re talking about ass wipe,” the young farmhand growled.
“I think we all got quite a bit of work to be tending to.” Their boss waved his hand. “Get to it.”
Jason followed the two goons to the door. Trevor shoved Rick into the doorframe on the way out. He shook his head. The two were like his younger brothers, and man, they were idiots.
“Son,” his uncle hollered. “Come back here.”
“Yes, sir.” He did an about face, then walked back to the desk.
“Joe said Mike is the bigger of the two. We’ll let him chose between Bucking Boy and Rough Rider,” Big Bill said as he shuffled some papers on his desk. “I’m going to place Bobby on Quick Feet.”
“You know I always ride Quick Feet,” he voiced immediately, his back rigid. “Why can’t this Bobby guy ride Jersey Girl or Black Velvet?”
“Because this is my ranch, my horse, and my decision.” Big Bill looked back at him. “You got a problem with that?”
“Nope, whatever you say, boss.” Jason turned toward the door, his boots grinding into the wood planks of the floor.
“Also, they land at Billings International at three tomorrow afternoon. I need you to go pick them up.”
He stopped in his tracks and cussed under his breath. “Can’t Sue Ellen go? I got work to be doing.” Jason turned to look back at his boss.
“Nope.” Big Bill shook his head. “Sue Ellen’s helping Mary get the food prepped, and making sure our asses don’t freeze to death out on the trail.”
“What about Rick or Trevor?”
“They’re busy branding today and tomorrow. I need Mike and Bobby here getting fit on saddles, and getting to know their horses. That leaves you. I swear, if you weren’t my nephew I’d have fired you years ago for your smart mouth. Now, get out of here.” His uncle’s tone let him know the matter was settled.
Damn. Jason scuffed his boots on the wood floor on the way out. It was one thing having to play referee with Rick and Trevor—Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb—but now he had to spend extra time helping two new idiots on the trail this weekend, and one of them was going to be riding his favorite horse. If Bobby laid a harsh hand on Quick Feet, he’d have to show the Texan how Montana boys handled business. No one harmed the girl he loved.
He fought the urge to slam his fist into the door of Big Bill’s office.
Chapter 2
Jason arrived at Billings International Airport twenty minutes early. He checked the monitors—Mike and Bobby’s flight was scheduled to land on time. Good. He sure as hell d
idn’t want to have to wait on them.
He grabbed a seat by the bag terminal, tipped his hat low on his head, and decided to catch a little shut-eye before he had to deal with their guests. He woke to someone nudging his shoulder.
Jason tipped his hat back on his head to see a blonde beauty standing in front of him. His heart hammered against his chest. His throat tightened as he gave her a quick once over.
Long golden strands covered her shoulders, and her eyes were blue like a clear Montana sky. Her smile penetrated his chest like the stilettos on her heels, and the curve of her hips made his pants constrict.
“Yes, ma’am, can I help you?” he drawled.
“Are you Jason Haverty?” the beauty asked in a Southern twang.
“Yes, I am.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” She turned. “Mike, over here. I found him,” she hollered as she waved her arm in the air. The fire engine red handbag she held was some high-priced designer brand, Couch or Nada, something like that, and her luggage had the letters LV all over it. Maybe those were her initials.
He stood just as a young guy wearing a navy blue T-shirt and skin-tight jeans made his way over to them. This kid was long and lean, had celery stalks for legs, and a zit on the tip of his nose. Hell, she was probably the kid’s girlfriend, which meant she was young, too. Too young for him.
A damn shame.
“Hey, man, nice to meet you. I’m Mike.” The boy tipped his hat and held out a calloused hand.
Jason shook it. “Umm…I was told there were only two guys: Mike and Bobby. There wasn’t any mention of bringing a girlfriend.”
Pimples and the beauty both looked at each other and laughed. He didn’t see what was so damn funny.
The girl shifted her black coat to her left arm. “I’m Bobby. Bobby Jo Turner.” She extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jason.”
Her smooth hand fit easily into his, her grip stronger than he would have imagined for her small frame.
“My daddy was bettin’ on me to be a boy. Five girls ahead of me, I was his last hope. Imagine his disappointment when I popped out,” she explained.
“You’re, Bobby?” Jason didn’t hide the skepticism in his voice.
“Yep. The one and only.” Her wide smile would be a good candidate for a dental commercial.
“Umm, honey, you don’t look like any rider I’ve ever seen.” He gazed over her body again, this time judging her wardrobe more than her curves. What the hell did she have on, a dress and heels? Where were her jeans and boots? Did she think she would go on a horse drive riding sidesaddle?
“Hasn’t your mama ever told you not to judge a book by its cover? Besides, I promise you, Mr. Haverty, I can ride anything you put in front of me.” Her stare held a twinkle in her eyes. “Now, be a gentleman and grab my bag. I want to be on our way.” She started toward the exit.
Jason cleared his throat.
She turned. “Yes?”
He bent down to pick up her luggage. “Unless you plan on taking a taxi all the way back to Lyndell Ranch, I suggest you follow me.”
“Well, yes, of course. Sometimes I’m bad with directions. Just steer me the right way.” She giggled and turned, her heels clicking on the tile floor.
Oh, Jesus! What the hell was Big Bill thinking bringing these two along? Jason had the mind to give his uncle an ass-chewing when he got back to the ranch. He would, too, if he didn’t think the man would fire him.
He could see how everything was going to play out—she was going to do something stupid, get hurt, and then he was going to have to take care of her. A damn damsel in distress, and he would have to play her hero. The thought gave him heartburn. A horse ranch was no place for a frilly filly. God help him if she cried about breaking a nail.
“Did you know my daddy and Big Bill were best of friends back in college?” Bobby Jo asked from the backseat of Jason’s truck minutes later. “They’ve kept in touch ever since, isn’t that sweet?”
“Yeah, sweet,” he bit out, then grabbed some antacid tablets out of his glove box and chomped down.
“Mr. Haverty, how long have you worked at Lyndell Ranch?” Mike asked.
Mr. Haverty? Hell, what did he look like, his father? He ate a couple more tablets. “Twelve years,” he said between chews.
“So, what are you, like thirty-eight or something?”
“I’m twenty-seven,” he corrected between clenched teeth. The tablets left an annoying chalky aftertaste in his mouth, much like the two in his truck. They talked too damn much.
“I’m nineteen.” Pride laced Mike’s words. “Bobby Jo is twenty-four.”
So, the little pixie was old enough after all.
“You sure don’t say a whole lot, do you, Mr. Haverty?” Mike asked.
“My name’s Jason, and no, I don’t.”
Mike turned back to face the windshield. Jason peeked at Bobby Jo’s reflection in the rearview mirror. She sat back in her seat, her eyes focused out the window. Her brows were creased and her lips turned down.
Okay, so maybe he was being an ass, but he was pissed. His whole trip, his guy’s adventure under the wide-open Montana sky, was all screwed to hell by the woman sitting in his backseat.
He glanced back at her again. Her dress was cut just low enough to give him something to imagine as he drove them to the ranch. Her comment about how she could ride anything came to mind, along with visions of her riding him beneath the stars.
“How much longer until we get there?” Bobby Jo asked, breaking the silence.
Jason was thankful for the distraction. He tugged on the pant legs of his jeans, allowing his head more breathing room, so his other head could think. “About fifteen minutes.”
“That’s great.” Her eyes began to sparkle. “I can’t wait to saddle up.”
He sneered at her wardrobe. “You’ll have to change your clothes first. No heels allowed on this horse ranch.”
“I’d planned on it.” She crossed her arms. “Where will we be staying? I can change in my room.”
My aunt Sara arranged a room for you two. We all assumed Bobby was a guy, so I think she has you sharing a room.”
“Oh.” Bobby Jo’s voice faltered and her arms went lax. “Well, I’m sure that’ll be all right.”
A smile played across noodle leg’s face. Jason had the right mind to slap it off him. There was no way in hell Mike was sharing a room with Bobby Jo. Jason couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly so agitated, but if he wasn’t careful, he had a feeling she could mess up more than just his week.
Shit.
Chapter 3
Bobby Jo slipped her heels off on to the floor in the back seat. She winced at the throbbing in her feet, wishing she’d had time to change her clothes after Great Aunt Bee’s funeral. But between her grandmother’s seven sisters asking her why she wasn’t married yet, and Aunt Bee’s comb-over neighbor, Zed Perkins, following her around like a puppy dog begging her for a date, she barely made it out unscathed, much less in time to catch her flight.
Bobby Jo’s heart gave a jolt when she’d tapped Jason on the shoulder. She’d spotted him from across the airport. His scruffy boots, holey jeans, and denim jacket hugged his body nicely, screamed cowboy, and oozed sex appeal. His attitude, however, could be better.
Her dress pinched her waistline as she watched Jason from the back of his truck. Now all he oozed was crankiness. She had a mind to slap his scruffy face and tell him to snap the hell out of it. Fortunately for her, his face was just as pleasant as his body. If she had to put up with his cantankerous attitude, at least she had something pleasant to look at.
His tough brown eyes were surrounded by small creases, either from too much sun exposure or squinting, she didn’t know which. She’d guess squinting, since he seemed to narrow his eyes at every comment she made. He looked like a man that could handle anything or anyone that came his way. His jaw line was as rigid as his demeanor, and he had what looked to be a full head of lush brown hair beneath his big hat.<
br />
Bobby Jo bit her lips as images of him on top of her wearing nothing but that hat came to mind. She tried not to imagine what his chest looked like under the pearl snap shirt, or what sliding her hands down the zipper of his jeans to feel his…
“We’re here,” Jason said, looking back at her and interrupting her fantasy, or her lack of.
She felt like she had just been caught with her hand in his cookie jar and averted her gaze to look out the window. If her mother knew she was having such thoughts about a man she’d just met, Bobby Jo would undoubtedly be on the prayer list of every Baptist church in Texas.
He drove under an arched sign that read, “Lyndell Ranch.” A wooden horse fence surrounded the driveway on both sides for close to a mile before they reached the old farmhouse. A wrap-around porch hugged the old home, while windows framed by black shutters adorned the wooden planks. A couple of hound dogs raced to greet them, barking and slobbering the whole way.
As soon as Bobby Jo stepped out of the truck, the cool October air chilled her to the bone. She could only imagine what the nights camping outside would be like, and she refused to allow herself to imagine what Jason’s arms would feel like holding her close.
“You ain’t in Texas anymore,” he said as he leaned close to whisper in her ear.
His breath sent chills down her spine.
A white-haired, plump woman wearing a pink apron rushed to greet them. “Hello!” The woman embraced her and Mike in a hug. “I was expecting two boys, but you’re much too pretty to be a boy.” The lady placed her pudgy, soft hands on Bobby Jo’s cheeks. “I’m Sara Lyndell.”
“I’m Bobby Jo.” She gestured to her friend. “And this here is Mike.”
“Well, come in.” Sara waved her large arm toward the house. “We have much to discuss, and I just pulled a fresh batch of cookies from the oven.” She turned toward Jason and pointed a chubby finger to the bed of the truck. “Get those bags, will ya? Take them right on in the house.”
“Sure,” came his gruff reply.
Sara grabbed Bobby’s Jo’s hand and guided her into the house as Mike followed. The smell of homemade chocolate chip cookies wafted in the air and filled her nose with the scent of chocolate and sugar. Her mouth watered.
