Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler

by Darlene Panzera

  Her heart pounded as the mustached gentleman’s face turned as red as his hair. “We paid for a cabin and now you’re telling us you don’t have one available?”

  “You can have a room in the main house,” Bree told him.

  “It doesn’t have two queen beds,” his wife protested.

  “You don’t need two beds,” Bree said, trying to be reasonable. “You’re married.”

  The ­couple glared at her, then glared at each other.

  “We should get our money back and leave,” the man grumbled.

  “Why?” his wife demanded. “Can’t you share a bed with me?”

  “I’ll give you a fifty percent discount,” Bree offered.

  “Fifty percent?” the man repeated. “We’ll take it.”

  Bree led the way to the main house and asked them to give her a few minutes to prepare the room. It’s only for one week, she told herself as she changed the sheets on the bed and cleared out her belongings. One week in which she would be stuck bunking with Delaney and little Meghan.

  “What’s going on?” her father demanded from his wheelchair as she reappeared on the front porch. “Now we have guests sleeping in our house?”

  “That’s not the worst of it,” Luke said, his cane in one hand and a phone in his other. “We just got a call from the insurance agent. He says we didn’t renew our policy and our guests aren’t insured to ride.”

  “No trail rides?” their father barked. “No mini-­roundups this weekend? This is chaos.”

  Bree’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at her brother’s haggard face. “How did the insurance agent know we had guests arriving today?”

  Luke gave her a direct look. “The agent said he had an anonymous call to tip them off.”

  “The ranch managers?” Bree asked.

  Her brother shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “The sheriff said there’s no trace of Susan and Wade Randall,” their father informed them. “They could still be here or as far away as the other side of the country. They haven’t used credit cards or withdrawn from their bank accounts, so they must be using cash. Our cash.”

  “I’ll take care of the insurance,” Luke promised. “If all goes well, the guests can ride by Monday.”

  “But I wanted to ride today,” a high-­pitched voice moaned.

  “Me, too,” added another.

  “Me, three,” said a third.

  Bree turned her head to confront the childish complainers and felt heat rise into her cheeks as she realized that the voices had come from the CEOs she hoped to impress. Their demeanor didn’t match the image she’d had in mind when she learned the corporate executives would be visiting their guest ranch, but it didn’t change the fact they had the power to book all twenty-­four of their cabins for a two-­week retreat. Or that they were sitting in the rope porch swing less than twenty feet away . . . and had heard every word. And Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca weren’t the only ones. Beside them, his hat in his hands, sat their neighbor Mr. Owens.

  “You three can come to my place,” Mr. Owens offered. “I own the guest ranch next door, and we can take you on a trail ride. In fact, you might want to spend the week in one of my cabins, since this place is overrun with too many guests. We have plenty of cabins available.”

  “Merle!” Bree’s father exclaimed, narrowing his gaze. “Did you happen to call our insurance agent?”

  “Of course not,” Mr. Owens said, his eyes wide. “How would I know if you had insurance?”

  “Why you—­” Bree cut off her retort when she caught sight of Cody, sitting in the chair on the other side of his grandfather, waving to her. The small boy didn’t know what was going on and she didn’t want to frighten him with her anger. Pasting on a smile, she waved back and remembered her goal was to make the three Iridescent Beauty representatives from Los Angeles feel comfortable at her ranch . . . so they would book the upcoming corporate retreat.

  She glanced over the women’s casual—­yet stylish—­city attire. “You are so sweet to offer your ser­vices,” Bree said, glancing at Mr. Owens as she walked toward them, “but Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca have already decorated their cabin and I was hoping to take them into town this afternoon to do some shopping.”

  “Shopping?” the blond one named Chelsea exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “For . . . clothes?”

  “Yes, western clothes,” Bree said, smiling. “Don’t you want to look good for the hot cowboys at dinner tonight?”

  Her father quirked his brow as if she were nuts, but the three women looked at Luke, and Katelyn, the one with brown hair and a sprinkling of freckles, said, “Yes, we do.”

  Rebecca, the third part of the trio, a woman with long, black-­brown hair and the bluest eyes Bree had ever seen, exclaimed, “I want the whole western outfit—­shirts, pants, buckle, boots, and a cowboy hat.”

  “Don’t you mean a cowgirl hat?” Chelsea teased.

  The drive into town gave Bree a chance to get to know the three CEOs better. They were all twenty-­seven, three best friends from college who graduated with degrees in business marketing and within four years had grown their direct sales cosmetic company, Iridescent Beauty, into a national, multi-­million-­dollar corporation.

  Bree fought the envy that rose up within her . . . and lost. She’d had similar dreams of success when she’d first arrived in New York. She’d worked hard to rise from a floor sales associate to the rank of retail assistant in the fashion industry, but she still hadn’t been able to get the head marketers to consider her own designs or land the promotion to head director when the position became available.

  “Life isn’t fair,” she heard her grandma say in the back of her mind, “but if you look around, I bet you can always find someone worse off than you.”

  She thought of Luke and Delaney and was filled with remorse. At least she wasn’t physically hurt like her brother, or a single mom struggling to support her young child like her sister. Their problems were so much more serious than her own squashed hopes and dreams.

  Hours later, after Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca had each bought an entire new wardrobe for their three-­week stay at the guest ranch, Bree asked, “Are you sure you have everything you need?”

  “I need cowboy bling, but haven’t seen any jewelry in any of these shops that are like yours,” Chelsea said, pointing to Bree’s silver beaded necklace. “Where did you get it?”

  “I was wondering the same thing,” Katelyn exclaimed.

  Bree smiled, a small measure of pride burst within her. “I create my own jewelry.”

  She lifted the hem of her jeans to show them the chain around her boot with engraved silver charms, and pulled her honey-­brown hair back so they could see her silver feather earrings.

  “Can I buy some?” Rebecca asked.

  Bree nodded. “I can show you my collection when we get back to the ranch.”

  “Have you thought of starting up your own company?” Chelsea took out her cell phone and snapped a photo of Bree’s necklace. “If I post this photo on Facebook to all my friends, they will want some, too. You might need a catalog.”

  “Definitely a webpage,” Katelyn agreed.

  “We’d love to help you,” Rebecca added.

  Bree’s head spun with possibilities. She didn’t need to be in New York to climb the career ladder. She could start her own business right here in Montana while managing the guest ranch.

  Be her own CEO.

  First, she’d have to build up her inventory. She hadn’t made jewelry in years and had only a limited supply on hand. Next, she could set up a display stand in the corner of the registration office, get her jewelry into the local stores, and sell online.

  Not only could she make her dreams come true, but she could invest some of the money she’d make back into the ranch to help her family!

  RYAN
DIDN’T USUALLY take a break in the afternoons, but when Dean returned from the local airfield he wanted to know what his brother had been able to find out about their salted field. His father and younger brothers must have had the same idea because they met him in front of the house. Ryan’s mother also joined them, a pitchfork in her gloved hands.

  “The guys in the tower checked all the flight plans for May 22 and none of them came close to our property,” Dean announced.

  Ryan wasn’t surprised. “Whoever salted our field must have flown under the radar so he couldn’t be detected.”

  “Your mother and I talked to the neighbors,” his father informed them. “Mr. Norman said he heard a plane fly over in the middle of the night when he got up to go to the bathroom.”

  “Can’t we get the sheriff to issue a search warrant for Owens’s place?” Josh asked, glancing around at each of their faces.

  Ryan shook his head. “Not without proof. I saw he had bags of salt in their barn, but I can’t prove they’re the ones behind this. With the cold weather hanging on, there must be lots of folks around here who still have salt on hand.”

  “You said Merle was mad you were helping Bree,” Zach reminded him. “Maybe he thought he could keep you away from her if he made more work for us.”

  At first Ryan had similar thoughts, but now he shook his head. “Merle wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his relationship with his grandson. He knows I could keep Cody away from him if he did.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” his mother warned him. ­“People will do the craziest things when they are short on cash, and I hear he’s jealous of the Collinses’ impressive guest list.”

  “I’ll keep my eye on him,” Ryan promised. “In the meantime, Zach—­can you check with the road department to see if they’ve had any missing boxes of rock salt?”

  WHILE CHELSEA, KATELYN, and Rebecca changed into their new outfits, Bree found her family by the corral and excitedly told them her plans to start her own boot bling business.

  “After everything that happened today?” her father asked. The fact he sat in a wheelchair did nothing to diminish the towering effect he had on her. “You can’t even run this business and you think you can run another at the same time?”

  Her mom cast her a worried glance. “I like your jewelry, Bree.”

  Bree smiled. For once her mother was siding with her and not her dad. “Thanks, Ma.”

  Then her mother continued, “But maybe you can just give it away as gifts for birthdays and Christmas. Running a business is a full-­time job and we need you to focus on Collins Country Cabins right now.”

  Ryan Tanner parked his pickup beside them, and when he jumped out, Bree’s pulse kicked faster than a wild pony.

  “What do you think?” Bree’s father asked him as he approached. “Can a woman successfully operate two businesses at the same time?”

  Ryan gave her a hard look and said, “No. Eventually one will pull you away from the other.”

  “See?” her father said, his face breaking into a grin. “If you don’t believe me, take it from a Tanner.”

  Bree pressed her lips together, her excitement fading away. “Ryan, about the mini-­roundups—­”

  Her father shook Ryan’s hand. “We sure are honored to have a wrangler like you on our ranch.”

  “Except we’ve run into a problem,” Bree said, looping her arm through Ryan’s like she’d seen other women do.

  Ryan glanced down at their entwined arms and then straight into her eyes. “What kind of problem?”

  “We don’t have any insurance for the guests to ride with you on the mini-­roundup tonight.” She gave him what she hoped was her brightest smile. “We,” she said, nodding to her father, who had already fawned all over him, “hoped you might give the guests a demonstration in the arena instead.”

  Ryan smirked. “Be a performer?”

  “You used to perform at the rodeos.”

  “I used to compete,” he corrected, “to make it into the PCA rodeo finals.”

  “You were good,” she coaxed. Should she go so far as to bat her lashes at him? No—­no matter how much she needed this she couldn’t do that. “Please, Ryan?”

  The look he gave her said he was confused. She should have known this “charm” thing wouldn’t work. He shook his head. “This isn’t what I signed up for.”

  “Please, Ryan?”

  Okay, maybe her eyes did blink a few more times than normal. But instead of being charmed, Ryan laughed. “I’ve taught you well. Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll do it, but . . . you will owe me a favor in the future.”

  She dropped her arm out of his and frowned. “What kind of favor?”

  He grinned and a mischievous light entered his eyes. “I’ll let you know.”

  A short while later, the door to Cabin 12 opened and the three CEOs emerged decked out in all their new western attire. Except it wasn’t the kind Bree, Delaney, or Sammy Jo would wear, or any of the other locals for that matter. All three wore identical outfits: Stetson hats, plaid western blouses, leather belts with silver and gemstone detailing, fringed leather chaps, and scrolled leather boots. Except Chelsea was dressed all in pink, Katelyn wore neon green, and Rebecca bright yellow.

  The cost alone could have booked a cabin for another three weeks. But at least the women were happy, the shopkeeper had been very happy, and when the cashier promised to recommend the Collins guest ranch to everyone who walked through the door, Bree was happy too. A win-­win for everyone.

  “Oooh! Look at him!” Chelsea exclaimed, pointing her finger toward Ryan. “A real cowboy!”

  Katelyn hurried over to Delaney, who was photographing Meghan. Luke had put his niece on his shoulders—­despite his cane—­and was giving her a piggyback ride. “Can you use your camera to take our picture?”

  Delaney turned toward the three women and nodded. “Of course. Where do you want to stand?”

  “Next to him,” Rebecca said, moving next to Ryan. “Do you mind if we get our picture taken with you?”

  He glanced in Bree’s direction as if asking if this was what she meant when she asked him to perform. Then he gave the women that dazzling smile he was known for, the one that made them all flock to him. “Why, certainly, ladies. It would be my pleasure.”

  Bree’s stomach swirled with anxiety. This kind of performance was not what she had in mind for Ryan tonight. But if Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca were happy . . . they’d be more apt to give their guest ranch the corporate contracts.

  However, as Delaney looked through her professional-­grade Canon series lens, the three women struck flirty poses, and Bree had to glance away. Her gaze fell on Luke, who looked as disgusted as she felt. Swinging Meghan off his shoulder, he gave the little girl a high five, then walked off in the opposite direction toward the house. Bree wished she could do the same, but she’d promised to watch Meghan while Delaney rode with Ryan in the arena.

  Man, was he good. A short time later while watching him round up a dozen of their cows she was glad she hadn’t left. She’d seen Ryan in action before, but his quick cuts back and forth drew her applause along with Meghan’s and the rest of the enthralled guests’ sitting in the stands. He’d brought over his own horse, the Blue-­Eyed Bandit, the one he’d had her touch at their last training session, and she recalled how warm and strong Ryan’s hands had felt over her own and how his nearness had caused her heart to quicken.

  Heartbreaker. She smiled. While she knew perfectly well what kind of a guy he was, it still didn’t stop her from appreciating his finer qualities.

  She raised her thumb and forefinger to her lips and let out a shrill whistle at the end of his performance. The guests stomped their feet, clapped, issued similar whistles, and hooted with delight. Delaney had also impressed the crowd with her natural riding skill and they cheered for her, too, but Bree’s attention was on Ry
an.

  Out of all the ­people he could have fixed his gaze on at this moment, he chose her. He grinned and gave her another mischievous look, this time as if to ask, Good enough? Bree nodded, and a shimmy of anticipation coursed over her as she remembered he didn’t perform for free.

  She bit down on her lip. What favor could Ryan Tanner possibly ask of her in return?

  LATER THAT NIGHT, Delaney helped Meghan into her Disney princess pajamas and tucked her into the bed they would be sharing so Bree could use the adjacent sleeper-­sofa.

  “I don’t want to sleep,” Meghan said, rubbing her eyes with her fists.

  Bree smiled. “Me neither.”

  Digging through a box she’d brought over from her own room, Bree took out a pair of wire crimpers, an assortment of clasps, beads, faux jewels, and metal charms. As she set out to work, sliding a heart-­shaped charm that said Dream onto a foot-­long length of leather cord, she said, “If I make a dozen of these each night, I can have enough to start up my boot bling business in no time.”

  Delaney pressed a photo into her nature journal. “When I took the picture for Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca, it made me wonder if our other guests would like me to take photos of them, too. I could offer a variety of different photo packages and the extra money could help me to support myself and—­” she glanced at her two-­year-­old, who had fallen asleep after all “—­Meghan.”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Bree said, wrapping the leather cord around the ankle of her boot to test the size. “You can also put your photos on postcards and sell them in the office with my jewelry. We’ll open our own gift shop.”

  “Postcards,” Delaney repeated in an excited whisper. “Oh, Bree, I could also sell my flower and animal prints in mats and frames. Make photo magnets. Buttons. Key chains. T-­shirts. If you can start your own business, so can I.”

  Bree held up the finished boot bling to show her sister, and advised, “First you better get yourself a pair of earplugs.”

  Delaney frowned. “What for?”

  “For you, when you tell Dad,” Bree warned. “He wasn’t exactly supportive when I told him I was making jewelry.”