The Last Cowboy

by Lindsay McKenna

  Leading Stormy out of the barn, Jordana headed for the shower facility. Afterward, she went to the tack room and cleaned all the leather. The fragrance of oiled leather was always a perfume to be inhaled deeply. Her mind raced as she sat there with the oil and a cloth, the saddle nearby. What was Slade going to do now that Griff had dropped into his life? She had no idea what the siblings were like together. Maybe talking to Gwen Garner might give her a clearer picture of Griff. He certainly looked a lot like Slade, but there were differences, too. And he was just as handsome as Slade. Yet, his face was not deeply lined, but pale because in his job as a Wall Street broker, he didn’t see the sun that often, never mind braving the elements.

  The day had been one of lightning bolts, Jordana thought, as she scrubbed down Stormy in the bathing facility. First, Curt Downing was stalking her like a cougar would follow his intended prey. But she was no prey. Jordana could see why Slade disliked Downing. She felt as if some invisible stickiness was left behind after he’d grabbed her wrist. Wanting to take a hot shower to feel clean once more, Jordana moved the rubber brush across Stormy’s gleaming back. As if Slade didn’t have enough to worry about with Downing in the coming race, he was now saddled with his twin brother.

  Feeling sorry for Slade, Jordana wished she could do more. But what? He’d finally broke through his armored barriers and shared with her. Those moments were sweet and Jordana began to realize their relationship had changed because of that. Slade was no longer iconic and distant. When he’d dumped his frustration out about his brother to her, he’d been vulnerable and emotional. Was it possible not to love a sibling? Jordana had seen this happen in other families. Hadn’t Slade been dealt a hard enough hand without Griff barging in unannounced? Clearly, Slade didn’t want him here.

  Jordana saw Shorty on his paint mustang herding in a group of growing calves. They would have to be vaccinated and branded. She raised her hand in hello to the wrangler, and he did the same. Looking around, Jordana did not see Slade or Griff. What was going on inside that house? Were they arguing? Coming to physical blows? Frowning, she thought it wasn’t her business. She was a student here, not Slade’s lover.

  Chores completed, Jordana drove slowly out of the parking area. She tried to appreciate the clear blue sky, the high cirrus clouds that reminded her of a horse’s mane blowing in the wind. Her heart was still back there at the ranch as she drove the two miles to the highway that would take her back into town. In the distance, the Tetons, now nearly bare of any snow, showed their deep, rugged blue granite slopes. Their flanks were covered with thick green forest of pine below the ten thousand foot level. And one day soon, she and Stormy would be hidden beneath those pines on a rocky trail competing in her first big endurance ride.

  Her excitement was cooled by her worry for Slade. Driving down the highway, the valley lushly green and the mountains silhouetted against the sky, Jordana wanted to turn around and go back. But what good would that do? Slade had trusted her enough to open up and speak about something deeply personal with her. Jordana knew she had to wait it out. Slade was so distrustful of women because of his bad marriage to Isabel. Further, she knew he didn’t like Easterners. There were so many hurdles to jump!

  Somber, Jordana paid attention to her driving as she sped down a long, gently sloped hill that would take her into downtown Jackson Hole. And why was she so anxious to have some kind of personal relationship with Slade? Right now, Jordana knew she couldn’t afford to get into anything like that. She was working long, hard hours. And every penny had to be accounted for. Until she was past her endurance training, she had no savings, and that bothered her. Her parents had drilled into her that savings were always important. Symbolically, she felt rich in a personal way, but in reality, she wasn’t financially. That was okay for now. She’d weathered storms in her life before, and she’d get through this one.

  As she slowly moved through downtown traffic, tourist season in high gear, Jordana appreciated the plaza of the main part of town. Elk horns were bundled together to form a massive arch that was twenty feet high. Tourists stood, marveled and took photos of it. Her heart lifted. Every time she pictured Slade’s hard, weathered features, she felt her insides becoming as soft as a marshmallow. No man had ever had that effect on her.

  Turning off to a side street that would take her to the southern end of town where her home was located, Jordana wondered what the next two days would be like for Slade and his unwelcome brother.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SLADE HELD ON to his shock and rage as he strode into his ranch house. Inside was a brother he’d rarely seen since they had been separated. Griff had conveniently forgotten about him and the ranch. There was the occasional Christmas card, but that was it. And Slade could count on one hand how many times Griff had bothered to come out for a visit.

  “Dammit,” he seethed under his breath, jerking open the screen door and stepping inside. Halting in the mudroom, he took off his hat and hung it on a nearby elk-antler hook. His boots thunked hollowly down the pine hall. Heading for Griff’s old bedroom, he heard a noise to his left in the kitchen. Turning on his heel, he strode into it. Griff was making coffee and he had changed out of his suit for a pair of jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt. He almost looked like a cowboy.

  “We need to talk,” Slade told him gruffly without preamble.

  Griff glanced over at his older twin. “Sure.” He smiled a little. “I think I should have warned you I was coming home. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

  Resting his hands on his hips, Slade said, “Yes, you should have, but then, that’s your way, isn’t it? Did you learn that on Wall Street? Just traipse in and think people are going to be okay with that kind of city-slicker attitude and rudeness?”

  Switching on the coffeemaker, Griff turned and rested his hips against the kitchen counter. The anger was leaping in Slade’s narrowed eyes. “I don’t see it that way,” he countered strongly. Looking around, Griff murmured, “Not much has changed here, has it?” The light over the table was the same one he recalled as a young child. Their mother had loved yellow, and the kitchen was still painted that bright color.

  Slade walked over and brought two cups down from the cabinet. “Nothing has changed. Our parents struggled every month to pay the mortgage on this place. And now, so do I.”

  Griff frowned. “You still aren’t solvent?”

  Stung, Slade snarled, “No, thanks to you. I came to you years back for a loan. If you’d have loaned me the money, it would have gone toward stabilizing the mortgage. But you couldn’t see your way clear to do that for whatever your stupid reasons.”

  “You weren’t a good loan applicant,” Griff said coolly. “And if you’re still in deep trouble with the mortgage, that proves my original assumption that you weren’t a trustworthy loan applicant.”

  Cursing to himself, Slade wanted to strangle his younger twin. Griff looked smug and self-assured. Oh, he might be wearing Western clothing, but the look on his face told a different story. “And that’s why I don’t want you here. You’ve paid nothing into this place except to write it off.”

  Shrugging, Griff said lightly, “Legally speaking, I’m half owner. I’m not going anywhere.” He grinned. “Besides, I have a host of ideas that can turn this ranch around so we can get it onto solid financial footing.”

  “Bull,” Slade muttered. “You don’t have a clue as to how to keep a ranch solvent.” The coffee was done, and he poured himself a cup and put a splash of cream into it. Sitting down at the pine table with chairs hewn from the same wood, he watched Griff pour his own coffee. His twin wandered over, far less tense-looking than he felt.

  Sitting down, Griff sipped his black coffee and said, “Before you throw the baby out with the bath-water, Slade, I do have some good ideas for our ranch.”

  The word our grated across Slade like a file rasp running across his exposed flesh. It wasn’t morally right that Griff suddenly dropped in out of the blue to claim his half of the ranch. “You’ve done
nothing to earn half this ranch.” Slade glared at his unperturbed brother. Griff’s black hair was military short. He hadn’t been toughened up by the harsh elements of Wyoming.

  “I know that, but now,” Griff said lightly, “but now, I intend to rectify the situation.”

  “Only because you can’t find another job on Wall Street,” Slade acidly pointed out. “And I’ll bet my last, bottom dollar that as soon as someone you know in your network has a job offer, you’ll leave this place in a heartbeat and fly East again. Out of sight, out of mind with you, Griff.”

  “I do miss my job. I miss the money I made. And had,” he admitted. “Right now, we’re in a depression and there’s no doubt about it. A lot of people are going back to their parents’ homes right now because they’ve lost their jobs. I’m coming back here because I have a legal right to do so. I know you’re not happy about it, but I’m staying.”

  “Until things improve on Wall Street.”

  Nodding, Griff said, “Most likely that is so.” He swept his hand around the kitchen. “You can’t make money ranching. You’ve proven that. And frankly, I like big money. I like living in a three million dollar penthouse in the upper east side of Manhattan. I like being able to buy the best of wines, throwing big parties for the rich and famous.”

  Shaking his head, Slade stared down at his coffee cup. “Your heart isn’t here in Wyoming, Griff. It never has been.”

  “I don’t know that,” he countered strongly. “We were born here, Slade. Until our family was killed by Red Downing, we were happy.”

  “Yeah, well, life is hard,” Slade uttered, sipping his coffee and nearly scalding his tongue. Setting the mug down he added, “And your heart and soul are in Wall Street, making millions and not sharing it with anyone else in the family.”

  “You’re my only family,” Griff said. “And you’re a bad loan risk. I can’t help that.”

  Slade jadedly eyed him. “You’re an Easterner by heart.” He jabbed a finger at Griff’s hands that were enclosed around the coffee mug. “Your hands are lily-white and soft like a little baby’s would be. You’re out of shape. You could no more sink a fence-post hole than a ten-year-old girl. You don’t ride. You don’t know how to herd cattle, vaccinate or care for them. And you don’t get to stay where it’s warm when there’s a blizzard going on. You have to care for ten horses, clean out box stalls and get to the Horse Emporium for hay, feed and other supplies.”

  “I’ve got skill sets in engine mechanics and construction. When I was at Harvard, I had a part-time job with a major construction company. I know how to use tools, and I’ll apply my knowledge to the ranch,” Griff said grimly, holding his twin’s hard stare. “I had a gym membership in New York City, and I worked out regularly.” He held out one of his hands. “It’s true, I don’t have sunburned skin and thick calluses on my hands, but that doesn’t mean I can’t use them to work with. That’s what leather gloves are for.”

  “You know nothing about endurance riding.”

  “No,” Griff said steadily, trying to hold on to his rising temper, “you’re right. I don’t know a thing. But I don’t think I have to remind you, I’m the one with a Harvard MBA, not you. I’m a fast learner.”

  Stung, Slade knew he had only a high-school education compared to his brother. “No, I don’t have a diploma from an uppity Eastern school. Uncle Paul died just as I graduated from high school and I had no chance for college. If I hadn’t decided to stay and fight to keep this ranch going, I could have walked away from it. I had planned to go to college, but it just didn’t happen.”

  Nodding, Griff said, “So you’re a hero, Slade, and I’m not. My MBA opens doors you could never open.”

  Grinning sourly, Slade muttered, “Seems like all those golden doors are closed to you from what I can see. That’s why you came slinking home with your tail between your legs. No one wants you, Griff. And I don’t, either.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Griff said, anger in his deep voice. “Legally, I own half of this ranch. You can’t kick me out.”

  “You’re right about that. And I’ll guarantee you, Griff, if you stay, you’re going to work your butt off just like Shorty and I do.” He held up a finger and wagged it in Griff’s face. “And I’m the boss here, not you. In my eyes, you’re a green wrangler learning the trade. Nothing more.”

  “And do I get paid?”

  Snorting, Slade said, “Hell, no! My budget allows me to pay one wrangler and that’s it. You work to keep a roof over your head and eat, that’s all.”

  “Why not get rid of Shorty? That way you can pay me?”

  “In a pig’s eye,” Slade growled, rising. “You’re worthless, Griff. We work twelve hours a day around here during the summer. I don’t have time to break you into our business without a solid, reliable wrangler like Shorty around to pick up your slack. You’re wasting my valuable time trying to train you. All you get out of this gig is room and board. You don’t like that, you go into town and hire a lawyer and we’ll duke it out in court.” Turning, Slade walked out of the kitchen. He was this close to hitting his stubborn brother. Griff didn’t have an ounce of common sense, which ranchers had to have in order to survive. He was worthless!

  Griff sat there feeling his burning anger toward Slade. The kitchen was quiet. He heard Slade slam the front screen door. He was gone. Looking around, he felt frustrated. In his former life as a Wall Street broker, he moved billions of dollars a day. Now, Slade was telling him he got room and board. That was it. No money for the work he’d be doing.

  Mulling over the situation, Griff knew it would be useless to sue Slade. First, he had no money to do it. And he knew Slade probably didn’t, either. It was a standoff. Right now, Griff needed a place to land. He lamented their parents had been killed. His father would have welcomed him back to the ranch, and he knew it. But Slade wanted no part of him. How to fit in? Or could he?

  Studying his left hand, Griff knew he was soft in comparison to Slade. He made his money with his brain, not his physical body like his older twin. Grudgingly, Griff felt his heart break a little. There was no love lost between them. He’d had idealistic expectations that Slade would welcome him with open arms, but he hadn’t. Instead, Griff was sure Slade saw him as an interloper who was nothing more than a pain in the ass who had to be babysat.

  Rubbing his chin, Griff looked around the kitchen. He dimly recalled sitting at this very table with Slade and his parents. He had few memories from that time. After all, he’d been only six years old. Smiling fondly, he recalled his father had always sat at the head of the table and his mother at the other end. He and Slade had sat opposite each other. There had always been a radio playing in the background. His mother had loved what was now termed elevator music. His father had loved Nashville music. Griff could recall both types of music being played as they sat at this dinner table. Running his hand along the varnished grain of the reddish-gold surface, he felt a sense of returning home.

  Getting up, Griff walked over to the kitchen sink and rinsed out his mug. Setting it in the dish drainer, he looked around. No dishwasher, either. Well, that meant he’d be washing dishes, too. What a comedown! The sky had fallen open and disgorged him from his place in the stock brokerage firm where he’d been a banker. In one week, he’d lost everything. Being in derivatives, he’d amassed nearly twenty million dollars. And in the blink of an eye, it had disappeared in a poof. And the next day, he’d found out his firm was going under. Everyone had scrambled to call other brokerage firms for a new job, but no one was hiring.

  Looking out the yellow curtained windows, Griff saw Slade walking toward the big red barn. He saw Shorty, his only wrangler, coming up and speaking to him. Ego smarting over Slade’s harsh judgment of him, Griff had to figure out a way to show he was an important part of this ranch. One way or another…

  SLADE’S DAY went from bad to worse. He was at Andy’s Horse Emporium that afternoon to pick up some skid boots. And as he walked down one of the aisles, he s
aw Curt Downing come in. Instantly, he went on internal guard. Downing saw him and grinned like a wolf ready to bite him. Slade knew he would.

  “Hey, Slade, good to see you,” Curt hailed, raising his hand.

  Glaring, Slade said nothing. As he walked up to the cash register, he saw Andy grow nervous.

  Curt continued to grin as he stood at the opposite end of the counter. Slade was dark and angry-looking. Prodding him, he said, “You looking forward to meeting me on the field of battle on September 1st?”

  Pulling his wallet out of the back pocket, Slade muttered, “To you, every endurance contest is a war, Downing.”

  Laughing heartily, Curt said, “Isn’t it?”

  “No,” Slade snapped at him. “But you don’t get that, do you?” He itched to put his fist into Downing’s arrogant face.

  “Oh,” Curt drawled, relaxing, “it is war. Every endurance race is a war against all the other horses and riders. That’s the way it is.”

  Andy’s hand shook as he took the bills from Slade’s hand. He didn’t want a fight breaking out in his store.

  Smiling tightly, Slade murmured, “I hear you’re losing your students, Downing. Could it be because of your war mentality?”

  Scowling, Curt retorted, “I am not! Is Gwen Garner spreading lies around?”

  Slade knew how much Downing bragged all over town about how many students he had. His grin turned sour as he held Downing’s angry stare. “I don’t have to go to Gwen. All I have to do is read the newspaper where you have ads in every week trying to snare some students.” Snickering to himself, Slade saw Downing’s smiling mouth turn down into a snarl. “Besides,” he added, putting salt into Downing’s wound, “most people don’t like the idea of hitting other riders with a whip or shoving them off the trail.”