The Last Cowboy

by Lindsay McKenna

  “If he doesn’t win it?” Jordana asked, feeling worry for Slade.

  Shrugging, Gwen said, “Then he’s probably going to lose his ranch sooner rather than later. And that would be a pity.”

  “Curt is riding in the same race?”

  “Yep. And you can bet those two will go at it like they always do…out of sight of the judges. Curt has had his crown taken away from him by Slade. And truth be told, Slade is a far better endurance rider and has a better horse under him. But Downing is competitive and he’ll be out to win that race by hook or crook. It will turn dangerous for Slade and Thor. We all worry about them and there’s nothing we can do.”

  Feeling helpless, Jordana quirked her lips. “I’m glad I’m contributing to Slade’s ranch, then.”

  “He never advertises his training facility. Sometimes, he’s as dumb as a box of rocks.”

  Laughing, Jordana said, “He’s an anachronistic kind of man. He has a cell phone and a computer, but he says he hates both of them.” The nineteenth century instead of a modern-day man. Most ranchers use ATVs to round up their cattle, but Slade still uses his horses. Old-fashioned, but he also has those old values, too. He’s a man of integrity. His word is his bond. If he shakes your hand, he means it and will carry through with whatever was agreed upon.”

  “I hear he’s divorced.” The words popped out of Jordana’s mouth, unbidden.

  “Yes, Slade is. He was married for four years to an immature New York City socialite. Isabel was a pre-Olympic dressage champion. She came out here on a vacation, met Slade and in a week, they were married. Stupidest thing I’ve ever seen that man do,” she muttered, shaking her head. “It was hell for Slade. Isabel had millions and he was a pauper in comparison. She had temper tantrums and pouted and sulked when she didn’t get her way. Eventually, Slade divorced her, but it’s left a real bad taste in his mouth for women ever since.”

  “I see,” Jordana said. “It explains why he feels armored up and unreachable to me.”

  “Slade can be a knight on his horse, but no one can reach him and how he really feels. You just have to accept him as is. I’m hoping that over time, he’ll drop his walls and be more friendly and social. He’s ashamed of his whirlwind marriage to Isabel and the divorce. Slade hides as much as he can.”

  Smiling a little, Jordana said, “You nailed him, Gwen. Truly, he’s boarded up and no one can get to his soft parts except the horses he cares for and trains.”

  “Well, if I were you, I’d hold out hope that one day, he would become human and join the rest of the world again,” Gwen murmured with a smile.

  Jordana agreed. Her heart opened wider now as she had a much more clear picture of Slade and why he was a loner. Life had been hard on him, and it hadn’t let up. “Thanks for the info, Gwen. I really appreciate your help and warning about Downing.”

  Picking up her pen from the clipboard, Gwen nodded. “Anytime, Jordana. If you got questions, bring them to me. I’ll probably be able to give you some truth and background to ’em.”

  As Jordana left the shop to drive out to Slade’s ranch, she reran his sad, hard life through her mind. He was a good man in a bad place. And she knew a ranch was often handed down to the next generation. He was battling to keep the memory of his beloved parents alive. Because it was his life, too, with or without them around. As she drove her Ford truck through the town, Jordana wondered if life was going to finally give him a reward instead of more punishment.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “IS SOMETHING BOTHERING you?” Slade asked as Jordana walked Stormy back to the barn. She’d arrived and rode the fifteen-mile circuit and hadn’t said much. Which wasn’t like her. The July sun was hot, and it felt good to him. Slade knew he wasn’t the most sensitive person on earth, but even he could see a murkiness in Jordana’s glorious blue eyes.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” she protested as he walked with Stormy to the cross ties located in the center of the barn. Jordana didn’t want to tell him about meeting Downing. She knew there was bad blood between them now, thanks to Gwen Garner’s information, and she didn’t want to stir the pot. What bothered her was Slade had seen she was upset. Slipping off the hackamore from Stormy, she pulled on the nylon halter and then put her horse between the cross ties. Slade had taken off Stormy’s saddle and took it into the tack room. Jordana had seen him become less icy and unavailable the past week. Maybe he was getting used to having her around?

  When Slade returned from the tack room, there was a nice breeze through the center passageway of the barn. It felt good against the eighty-degree heat. Jordana was busy brushing Stormy down. Slade liked to watch her move around the mustang. There was such natural grace to Jordana. As he leaned against the wall of a box stall, his arms across his chest, Slade absorbed the pleasurable moment. Every time he saw Jordana, he wanted to be around her even more. Slade fought the inexplicable desire. Acidly, he told himself he was a pauper and getting tangled up with another woman just wasn’t in his cards.

  “Stormy seemed upset today, too,” he drawled, watching her expression.

  “She has her days like I do,” Jordana joked, hoping her smile would stop him from digging any further. It was unlike Slade to be concerned about her. Why now? Did he have a sixth sense for smelling trouble? Or for Downing, in particular? Brushing Stormy, she worked to get out the sweat and dirt along her back. They were now doing fifteen-mile rides three times a week. She’d changed her schedule to compensate for this new training demand. Next week, Slade was going to up her to thirty miles in preparation for the fifty-mile Tetons contest.

  Compressing his lips, Slade murmured, “You’re unhappy.”

  Straightening, Jordana looked across her mare’s back at him. His hat was tipped down, shading his gray eyes that felt like X-rays moving through her. He was incredibly handsome, shaped by the elements. She broke down and told him about the incident at the Horse Emporium. Jordana knew instantly by Slade standing, his arms coming to his sides, that he had hate for Downing. When she finished, she didn’t tell him that she’d went to Gwen Garner. More than anything, as he stood there bristling with rage, his eyes hard and gleaming, Jordana simply wanted to throw her arms around Slade and hold him. He’d been without love and nurturing for so long. In her imagination, she saw him as a lonely, grieving six-year-old boy who had just had his parents torn from him.

  “You can’t trust him. Ever,” Slade gritted. His fist curved. For the longest time, he’d wanted to punch the arrogant and rich bastard in the face. Red Downing had taken everything from his family. Curt had grown up to be hard and mean and did anything he had to do in order to win, just as his father had.

  “I know that,” Jordana said in a soothing tone. Now, Slade was upset. His entire tall, powerful body was tense, fists knotted at his sides. “I handled it and there won’t be another confrontation. Trust me, Downing got the message.”

  Pacing, Slade wasn’t so sure. “You’ve lived here two years and never ran into him. Gossip in the town is everywhere. He knew you’d come here to train with me.”

  “It’s jealousy on his part,” Jordana said, using an aluminum blade to shed the excess sweat off Stormy’s body. “Nothing more.”

  “Damn him,” he ground out to no one in particular.

  “Frankly, I’m more worried for you, Slade.” She held his startled look. “You’re competing against him in the Tetons ride.”

  “Nothing new there. Don’t worry about me. I’ve handled him before and I know his tricks.” Still, Slade felt his chest expand with an unfamiliar emotion. Jordana’s eyes were warm and anxious-looking. She cared for him. She really did. Slade hadn’t been born yesterday. He knew that look. And it made him go soft inside for a moment. What would it be like to relax and be himself around Jordana? Something told Slade she was utterly trustworthy, unlike Isabel. Still, the past screamed at him, and he tucked that warmth away like a stolen moment within his heart.

  Sighing, Jordana said, “Getting to meet Curt face-to-face makes me worr
y more, Slade.” Unhooking the panic snaps on both sides of Stormy’s halter, she led her tired mare down the concourse to be washed. She heard a man’s voice boom from the other end of the barn.

  “Slade! I’m back!”

  Turning, Jordana saw a man who was almost as tall as Slade standing at the opened door. He wore a dark brown suit, tie and white shirt. Blinking, she thought he looked an awful lot like Slade. And then, it hit her. Could this be Griff McPherson? Slade’s younger fraternal twin brother? If it was, Slade had not said anything about his visit. Glancing toward Slade, she saw him freeze for a moment. And then, his face darkened with an unknown emotion. Sudden tension crackled in the barn. Confused, Jordana stayed where she was as this meeting played out.

  “Slade, good to see you again,” Griff said, striding forward, his hand outstretched toward his older brother.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Slade growled, refusing to shake his brother’s hand.

  “I’ve come home for good,” he told Slade.

  “You’re an Easterner. An Easterner. And you have a job on Wall Street. Since when have you said this ranch was your home?” Old anger stirred through Slade. Griff had black hair and green eyes, like his mother. Slade’s younger brother was an inch shorter than him, more slightly built than he was. Griff looked painfully out of the norm by wearing his Wall Street suit. Few people wore suits around here.

  Griff grimaced and held his ground. “Hey, brother, I own half this ranch. And I was born here in Jackson Hole.” Giving him a grin, he added, “Besides, I’m done with Wall Street. I wanted to come home.”

  “Damn nice of you to let me know you were coming,” Slade said, glaring at Griff. His younger twin had always been spontaneous and gave no second thought to how his decisions might affect others. He was very immature compared to Slade.

  “Sorry, but I wanted to surprise you. I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

  Snorting, Slade growled, “What? You visit once every five years? Stay for a day and can’t stand being out in the middle of nowhere? Pining away for your exciting, nonstop life back in New York City? Give me a break.”

  Unfazed by his older brother’s snarling disposition, Griff said in a lower tone, “Look, I’ve lost everything, Slade. My company went belly up and I don’t have a job. I’ve tried getting another one, but no one is hiring.” Opening his hands, he added, “I was in stock derivatives. I lost everything, Slade. I lost twenty million dollars in a blink of an eye. I should have diversified my portfolio, but I didn’t.”

  Staring into Griff’s tormented green eyes, Slade snarled, “And so you come crawling home to the ranch I’ve kept going without any help from you?”

  “I have half ownership of this ranch,” Griff reminded him more strongly. “The will decreed we’d each own half.”

  “Not that you’ve ever dropped a dime to help keep it afloat. Hell, you wouldn’t even give me a loan six years ago when I asked for it.”

  Grimacing, Griff fearlessly met him on this comment. “In my opinion as a Wall Street banker, you were a bad risk, Slade. I wasn’t going to throw my money away. When you loan money, you expect interest and payback. I just didn’t feel at that time you could do that.”

  Glaring at him, Slade barely tolerated his sibling. “I’ll never forget that day. I’ll go to my grave remembering you wouldn’t loan your brother money.” Snorting, Slade added, “And now you’re broke. Well, if you think you can come back here and leech off me, you have another think coming.” He held up his hands. “I work for a living. Not like you living in some posh skyscraper playing with computers and enjoying the good life.”

  Wincing, Griff said, “I’m staying here. I’ll take one of the spare bedrooms in the main house. My old bedroom.”

  Helpless to stop him, Slade said, “You’re worthless to me and this ranch, Griff. You don’t know how to ride, brand a calf, put up fence posts or string barbed wire.”

  Mouth tightening, Griff held his brother’s rage. “I’ll learn.”

  “This is insane,” Slade growled. “And how long before you leave and go back to your precious Wall Street? When the first person offers you a job, you’ll be out of here in a heartbeat. You won’t care a tinker’s dam about this ranch once more.” Slade wanted to add, or me, but didn’t.

  “I can work hard,” Griff said stubbornly. “You show me what has to be done and I’ll do it. I’m not lazy.”

  Shaking his head, Slade muttered, “You’re useless as tits on a bull, Griff. Look at your hands.” He jabbed his index finger down at them. “They’re white, soft and pretty.” He thrust his hand into his brother’s face. “Look at mine.”

  Griff didn’t blink. He saw the sunburned quality of Slade’s large hand. It had small white scars here and there, plus thick calluses on each palm showing the hard physical work performed daily. “We’re brothers,” he reminded him in a tight tone. “And I’m not unlike you. I can’t help it if we got split up after our parents were killed. I had no choice when the court decided to send me to Uncle Robert’s part of the world any more than you did when you got to stay here.”

  Bristling, Slade hated to be reminded of that painful time in the past. In his opinion, Griff was like a butterfly compared to his anvil hammer. They didn’t see each other very often at all, the brotherly ties broken a long time ago. “Drop the excuses. There’s no way I’m taking you on as an employee. I don’t have the money to pay you a dime.”

  Shrugging, Griff said, “I’m not an employee, Slade. I’m half owner. And I expect to work. I have a lot of good ideas for the ranch—”

  “Another time,” Slade growled. He saw two bags of luggage at the opening of the barn. “You know the layout of the house.”

  “Good,” Griff murmured, giving his upset older brother a smile. “I’ll make myself at home.” He turned and walked with his shoulders back, head tipped at a proud angle.

  Slade put his hands on his hips, glaring after Griff. Spinning emotionally from his unexpected arrival, he hung his head and wrestled with the snakes writhing violently in his gut.

  “Slade?” Jordana walked down the passageway with her horse. She hesitantly put her hand on his broad shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Her softened words were like ice water to his boiling anger and shock. Lifting his head, he absorbed her tentative touch like the starving animal he was. “Yeah…yeah, I’m fine.”

  Removing her hand, Jordana stood there seeing a host of emotions pass across his face. This was the first time she’d seen Slade without that hardened expression. Seeing desperation, grief and anger in his eyes, she said gently, “No, you’re not fine. What did Griff want?”

  Taking off his Stetson, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand and then settled it back on his head. Slade had no intention of spilling out the painful past but somehow, Jordana was able to wring it out of him. His voice turned steely as he said, “And Griff took to Wall Street and New York City like ticks on a dog. He was filthy rich. I once asked him for a loan, but he turned me down. He didn’t care if I lost the ranch to the bank. Even though he supposedly owns half of it by our parents’ will, he didn’t give me a dime.”

  The bitterness in Slade’s tone tore at Jordana. She stood quietly. He was obviously in shock. And sometimes, when a person was able to just talk out the trauma, it blunted the shock and they felt more emotionally stable. Her job was to ask questions. “What will Griff do now that he’s penniless? I know a number of big name stock-brokerage firms went under.”

  “I don’t know,” Slade admitted, some of the venom dissolving in his tone. Jordana’s quiet, calming presence was what he needed, he realized. She had a soft touch and asked the right questions to defuse him. “He’s just like my ex-wife, Isabel. She was lazy. She screamed if she got some dirt under her painted fingernails. And she refused to clean out box stalls with me. She said it was a man’s work.”

  Catching his gaze, Jordana smiled a little. “Box stalls are gender neutral.”

  “Yes,” Slad
e sighed. He looked up and then around the quiet barn. “Griff is going to be a burr under my saddle. He’s useless. He doesn’t know the first thing about running a ranch.” And then he gave her an apologetic look. “I shouldn’t be washing my family’s dirty laundry in front of you.”

  Reaching out, she slid her fingers along his slumped shoulder. Each muscle leaped where she’d grazed his dark blue cowboy shirt. “It’s all right, Slade. I consider you not only my trainer, but a friend, as well. I want to be here for you.”

  More than Isabel ever was for him, he thought. His skin felt as if it was on fire where she’d grazed his shoulder. Jordana’s touch was calming. Slade felt his anger beginning to recede. “You not only have a quieting touch with a horse, but with me, too,” he said wryly, giving her a quizzical look. Drowning in her warm blue gaze, Slade suddenly wanted to pull her roughly into his arms and kiss that soft, haunting mouth of hers. That jolted him. He couldn’t ignore the building ache in his lower body, either. His whole reaction was loco!

  Jordana felt a shift within Slade. Suddenly, she saw raw hunger burning in his eyes—for her. It was so unexpected, she took a step back. Blinking, she managed, “Blame it on my doctor’s demeanor.”

  It was much more than that, Slade realized, feeling suddenly dizzy beneath her gaze. Much more. For the first time in four years he ached for a woman. But not just any woman. Jordana made him feel alive as never before. And Slade knew her touch was meant to calm and soothe, not incite flaming desire within him. But it had. Feeling nakedly vulnerable, he said gruffly, “You’ve got to get Stormy washed. I’ll see you in two days. We’ll start Stormy on a thirty-mile route at that time.” Turning, he left her standing in the middle of the barn.

  Jordana swallowed hard. It was a good thing Slade had abruptly left or she wasn’t sure what she’d have done next. The man was unpredictable! Yet, so were her yearning emotions, too. Something had happened between them, and she couldn’t think clearly enough to understand what had gone down. She watched his long, striding form as he headed back to his ranch house. Feeling suddenly alone without his masculine presence, Jordana sighed.