But she didn’t travel all the way from Illinois to Wyoming for cowboys. They were just an oddity to Sassy, like buffalo grazing along the road, or herds of antelope bouncing among the rocky sagebrush. The men and the wildlife were trying to figure her out, too, she noticed.
Good luck!
She wouldn’t be in town long. Sassy was on a mission—personal business—and it was delicate. It might take a few weeks or months to do it right, and then she’d be gone again. Back to the Midwest where she belonged. Before the antelope started to migrate, Sassy would be on her way back home, to figure out her future.
Her task, once accomplished, wasn’t going to change her life. It was just something to cross off her list. Even her own mama didn’t know why she was here; why she insisted on an internship in Wyoming. There was only one other person who knew and he was gone. It was the one thing her daddy asked of her in his last days, besides keeping an eye on her mother.
That he’d been too cowardly to do this errand himself made Sassy very sad. She always saw her father as big and brave, like a fearless knight. The fact that he turned out to be flesh and blood was an unfortunate dose of reality at a time when she was fresh out of heroes. But losing him was hard enough without being angry, so Sassy tried to focus on the good times and not his failings.
Her dad worked hard setting she and her mom up for a financially generous life. Through the years, it was his number crunching that forged the bond, and it was the reason she’d gone into accounting.
“What are you doing?” Sassy would ask at a young age, bounding into her dad’s home office.
“Well, I’m taking care of you, baby girl,” he’d say.
“Doesn’t look like it,” the child would pout, and he’d set her on a chair nearby and show her his computer screen.
“Then let me show you,” he’d say.
For years, it made little sense, until she became much older. By then, his calculations and his efforts came together for Sassy, like pieces in a puzzle. She began to understand the concept of savings accounts and interest, and investments; accounts payable and accounts receivable. When she was an adolescent, he explained the trust funds he set up for her, and how they would affect her future.
“Now some say that a young person won’t work hard if they know they have money waiting for them in the bank,” he told her more than once, “but I believe in you, Sassy. You’ll work hard no matter what. Right?”
“Right,” she agreed with a smile. She’d agree to anything for her beloved father, but on this he was right.
Chapter 4
“The prodigal son returns at last!”
“Hah,” Ash laughed as he walked into the imposing West Ranch kitchen and hugged Ridge hard. Either his dad had gotten shorter, he noted, or he himself got taller while he was away. “There’s a lot of implications with that comment,” he said. “It’s been a while, but I haven’t exactly been running away.”
“I know, I know,” Ridge conceded, reluctantly loosening his hold on his youngest. “And you’ve got the diploma to prove it.”
“Don’t go acting like I haven’t seen you in years,” Ash said with another good-natured laugh. “Y’all were at my graduation, just weeks ago.”
“But this is different,” Ridge swallowed the unexpected emotion. “You’re home. And that means something.”
It meant something to Ash too.
So did having the entire West clan fly to Michigan State University to celebrate his degree in livestock management. The Wyoming Wests sure did make their presence known, hooting and hollering louder than any other group in the stands when he walked across the stage—and Ash didn’t mind in the least. On the contrary. He moved his tassel to the other side of his mortarboard, and lifted his diploma in the air with pure joy and triumph.
And maybe a tear or two.
Ash wasn’t raised a West, but now, thanks to MSU, was qualified to join the family business with a solid foundation. His honors-level diploma implied that he would be an asset to the ranch. No longer the know-nothing kid who had to fall off a horse a time or two just to learn the ropes, he was proud of his achievements, and glad he changed his mind four years earlier about business school.
“Congratulations on being accepted to Columbia University,” the letter read. Boy, how the family had celebrated when that piece of mail arrived! But as summer went on, Ash felt a stronger tug to join his dad and brothers at West Ranch.
Maybe he wanted to belong, or pay his family back for taking him in as a lonely teenager—one who was going down the wrong path. Or maybe he just wanted to work alongside the Wests. Ridge and Gunnar, and Rowdy and Gray, were some of the finest men he’d ever known. Colton and Pike, though no longer working on the ranch, lived just minutes away and were always available to listen and give advice to Ash.
However it happened, West Ranch had gotten under Ash’s skin.
He got chills every time he drove through the tall iron archway emblazoned with a massive WR, which stood for his name—the name that chose him. A name he wanted to pass along to his own sons and daughters someday. Unlike him, they would inherit the name at birth, along with full rights and privileges. Ash wanted to earn it and care for it; nurture it, and show his appreciation to the ranch and the name.
If he didn’t love these things, how could he expect his children to?
Funny, thinking about children at such a young age. It was not something his friends and roommates had on their mind—far from it. They were thinking about girls, and cars, and signing bonuses for their entry-level jobs. But when a boy is abandoned by his parents, fixing things for the next generation is top of mind.
At least, for Ash it was.
“You’re an old soul,” one girl at MSU told him, and Ash didn’t think it was a compliment. He’d been trying to explain his vision for life on the ranch. A heavy conversation for a sorority party when the others were talking about their lake homes and favorite ski hills. But Ash didn’t care. Having clear goals and a vision kept him from making foolish choices that would derail his plans, or dating girls who weren’t open to living in Wyoming.
“You watch those Michigan girls, now,” Ridge told him as he packed for his freshman year. “They’re tempting sirens, each and every one; tall and willowy, with blonde hair that turns to spun gold on the beach.”
Ridge was only half joking as he said this—his first wife Randi Lynn, now deceased, hailed from northern Michigan. Her alma mater was the law school at Michigan State.
“I’ll watch out,” Ash told his dad.
“You do that,” Ridge said, “because there aren’t many women willing to leave those Great Lakes for plains and hills. Even with this beautiful gorge out our back window, the isolation here can be a tough sell.”
That was only the beginning of the advice that came his way. Everyone pulled him aside and chimed in.
“Work hard and remember,” Gunnar said, “once you graduate, the ranch work will be harder than you can imagine. But I’ll be proud to have another West at the helm.”
That one got him, for sure. Thankfully, Colton didn’t reduce him to a puddle of tears. “Don’t be the last one to leave a party,” the middle brother advised. “Always leave alone. Always.”
“Yes sir,” Ash promised, and kept it.
“Take an art appreciation class, just for kicks,” Pike encouraged.
“Enjoy the autumns,” Kat suggested. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but Michigan has Wyoming beat when it comes to fall colors… and it doesn’t snow there in October.”
She sighed wistfully, making Ash hopeful that she’d come and visit him a time or two.
“I hear the gas stations in Michigan sell sushi,” Liu warned him. “Stay away from that. Some of the better grocery stores, now that sushi would be okay. Oh, and ignore Colton’s advice. You don’t have time for parties. As my parents told me, ‘We are not sending you to school to party—good grades, that’s your party’.”
Liu’s no-nonsense ways always m
ade him laugh. She also made him a box of spring rolls to eat on the way to the airport. He wouldn’t take a car his freshman year; he’d live in the dorms and stay close to the campus. Making Paislee’s advice challenging.
“Take a day trip to the Detroit Institute of Arts one Saturday, when the weather is good,” she said softly. “Take in the Diego Rivera murals, titled Detroit Industry. I guarantee, they will move you, and give you a great appreciation for the concept of work.”
Her words were so touching as she spoke to him like an adult—like someone he’d yet to become, but would very much like to be someday. Holding her baby boy, Ford, in her arms, Paislee kissed him on the cheek and added, “Don’t forget to come home to us, Uncle Ash.”
Chapter 5
Home.
Sassy felt a twinge of jealousy when that handsome cowboy said he was going home. Home as she knew it would never be the same. Her father was gone, and her mother was distracted by her new independence—financial and otherwise.
The little colonial she grew up in near the Missouri River was small, but in a tidy, desirable neighborhood where massive big-foot homes were replacing the quaint small houses at a rapid pace.
A picket fence defined the front yard, and a rose-covered trellis led to a brick-paved patio in the back. More times than she could count, Sassy joined her parents there for three-handed pinochle and cold lemonade.
Sassy was grateful for the loving home, but didn’t see herself returning after graduation. Not permanently, anyway. Her mother was young, and made it clear she wasn’t relying on her daughter to help her navigate widowhood.
“I’m going to mourn, Sassy,” she had said with a loud sniffle. “But each of us will find our own ways to move on.”
One day, before leaving for Wyoming, Sassy came upon her mother’s open computer screen to see she’d been taking virtual tours of the town’s more modern condos. Beautiful two-bedroom apartments with soaring ceilings and terraces—condos without any roses to prune, or fences in need of fresh paint.
The rooms in the photos looked cold, modern, and void of personality or warmth. She’d like to think her mother would turn any place into an inviting home, but without her father’s influence, didn’t hold out much hope. He was the sentimental one; the one who picked out their plush furnishings and art. Left to her own devices, her mother would stick a Moving Sale sign in the lawn, and sell everything down to the bare walls.
Except for a photo or two, Sassy doubted she’d be able to distinguish her mother’s new place from a hotel room.
“This granny cottage was your dad’s dream, but I think it ages me,” she said, making Sassy think the little house would be sold by the end of summer. Maybe it would be for the best—the only thing Mama liked to paint was her nails.
The house was paid off, and the sale would more than cover the price of anything her mother wanted to buy. She felt a stone in her stomach at the realization that her mother wasn’t sentimental about the things Sassy held dear. Maybe that was for the best. She’d always see her father in the nooks and crannies of the little home; waiting for her in his office, which had become a walk-in closet for Mama’s expanding wardrobe.
“What?” Her mother had been defensive as the daughter flipped through the clothes and gaped at price tags. “Your daddy liked to see me in pretty things. He wouldn’t want me looking all dowdy on account of his dying.”
Sassy smiled, knowing it was true. And also understanding why he’d set up her mother’s inheritance in monthly installments, so she couldn’t blow through it all too quickly.
“Just pace yourself, Mom,” Sassy had said. “You have more dresses than places to go.”
“Hmm,” was the non-committal reply she got.
In any case, Sassy made sure to pack up her belongings in stackable storage boxes that were clearly marked, in the event her mother up and moved. She wasn’t ready to have her childhood thrown out with the trash.
Chapter 6
Home.
When Ash left four years ago for Michigan, things had been changing like crazy—like a whirling dust devil on the prairie.
He himself was a recent high school graduate.
Dad and Casey just returned from their honeymoon in Italy and Switzerland, and bounced around between the ranch, the town and Casey’s house in Phoenix.
Colton and Liu’s massive rustic home on the ranch was being built adjacent to the tea house, complete with a guest house and the beginnings of a kitchen garden—all along the scenic West River.
Pike and Paislee welcomed baby Ford, and were waiting to adopt one-year-old Sun, who was taking her first steps. Both children were heirs not only to West Ranch, but were the newest generation in the wealthy banking lineage of their Denver family. Paislee’s sister, Poppy Andrews, the new CEO of First State Bank, was already anxious to groom Sun to take her place someday.
Ash’s niece Willow, Kat and Gunnar’s baby, had been toddling around the ranch four years earlier, adorably saying his name with a silent A. “…sh, …sh,” she’d say.
Now, Willow was five and a half, Sun was five, and little Ford was four. Each unaware that they were multi-millionaires; each more interested in catching bugs, riding bikes and splashing in the river. And tumbling into Ash’s room, as they did this morning.
“Uncle Ash! Uncle Ash! Get up,” they screamed.
“Mama said we could wake you, ‘cause it’s summer vacation,” Willow said.
“Yeah,” Ford chimed in, his pudgy hands landing soft blows on Ash’s mid-section, “it’s summer bacation.”
“Gettup gettup,” Sun said in a sing-song voice, overexcited by the little parade.
“Okay, okay little people,” Ash relented, trying to pry his eyes open. “I’m getting up. But only if there’s coffee. Is there coffee? Who can be the first to find out?”
The children laughed and screamed “me! me!” as they ran towards the kitchen.
Is there coffee for Ash?
Ash quickly jumped out of bed to lock his door so he could hop in the shower without the little visitors barging in again. He’d slept late. And in spite of what Ford said, his summer bacation was over. He’d already deferred his job at the ranch by three weeks after graduation to enjoy time at his friend’s Michigan lake house before driving home.
Erik Olsen was the newest in a long line of automotive engineers in his Detroit-based family. His parents owned a sprawling summer house in the northern lower peninsula, on Lake Charlevoix, with access to Lake Michigan.
The “cottage,” as the Olsen’s called it, had six bedrooms and five bathrooms—in addition to an outdoor shower for “leaving the beach outside,” as Erik’s mother liked to say. There was a sleeping porch with bunkbeds, and another directly below for rainy-day reading, and mosquito-free evening meals.
The walls were painted blue, and trim everywhere was bright white. On the walls, photos of several generations of the Olsen family documented their reunions in front of the house.
Ash was in love—with the house, the family, and with Michigan summers.
Every day, he and Erik would wake early and push the sailboat into the calm waters of the inland lake. Catching a breeze, they’d sail under a drawbridge and wave to people at the many outdoor patios and decks along the channel. Then they’d reach the greatest of the Great Lakes, where they’d clip the waves and fish for bass and perch.
In the heat of the day, they’d drop the anchor and swim to shore for a burger and beer under a shaded outdoor umbrella. One glorious day, they sat on the beach and watched a regatta of sailboats racing to Mackinac Island—an exclusive location nestled between Michigan’s upper and lower peninsulas.
Every night, they’d dine on the screened-in porch with the rest of the Olsen clan, then go to various beach parties with long-time friends of Erik. And yes, he’d be sure to tell his dad, a few of the girls did have hair that looked like spun gold from the Michigan sunshine!
Three weeks flew by, and before Ash knew it, he was thanking the Olse
n family for their hospitality, and extending an invitation for them to visit West Gorge anytime, to see a different kind of beauty.
“We have a full guesthouse on the ranch, and you’d be welcome to it.”
Ash described the mountains and the river, and the proximity to the Grand Tetons, the Wind River Mountain range, and Yellowstone National Park.
“I’ll come for sure,” Erik said, with sincerity. In his board shorts and a faded tee shirt, along with a stripe of zinc oxide sunblock on his nose, Erik was getting ready for a day on the water and Ash felt a pang of sadness that he had to leave. But a big part of him was also anxious to get home.
After his farewells, he turned his loaded pickup truck towards the west and started driving. Saying goodbye to Charlevoix, to Lake Michigan, and to some of the best years he’d ever known.
Caught up in the emotion, he felt the urge to stop in town and pick up a real estate catalog—maybe buy his own cottage on Lake Charlevoix. But common sense prevailed; he’d only be able to visit a week or two every summer. And though he had the money, a half a million dollars was a big impulse buy for a two-bedroom, one bath cottage.
Wasn’t it?
Chapter 7
Leaving Michigan had been hard for Ash, but returning to West Ranch was the right thing to do, he was certain. With his degree, Ash stood tall, ready for his first “real” job. He wasn’t the unwanted orphan, tagging along on weekends with whichever of the Wests had time to teach him a thing or two—generous though they were with their time.
“Assistant Manager, with a salary and profit sharing,” Gunnar told him at graduation, with a clap on the back. “Same deal me and the other brothers got after graduating.”
The other brothers, was a term that played over and over in Ash’s head like a ticker tape parade, as he showered and dressed for the ranch. He was one of the “other brothers,” and could hardly wait to show up and prove himself. If their enthusiasm at his college graduation was any indication, there would be another celebration upon his arrival and Ash was excited for the acknowledgment and attention.
Sassy Cowgirl Kisses: A Sweet Romance (A West Brothers Romance Book 5) Page 2
