Even without reaching the top of the ladder, he could see the problem. The windmill blades tilted at an odd angle. The bolts must have pulled out of the top mount. He’d straighten the mount and then insert new bolts. He’d seen some in a container on a workshop shelf. Easy.
Payton’s angry words cut through the silence.
“Cordell, get down.”
Cordell glanced to his right where the kelpie had been lounging but the dog was nowhere to be seen. So much for Baxter’s watch-dog ability. No doubt a rabbit trail had proved more interesting.
“Okay,” he said as he took another look at the windmill bolts to see what size he’d need. “I’ll grab some new bolts and then fix the mount.”
“No, you won’t.”
He sighed. She sounded wilder than a coyote who’d missed dinner. “Yes, I am. You need to have water.”
“Cordell, please,” her voice broke, “get off the ladder.”
He glanced down. Something was going on, more than her being furious at him for helping her. She stood at the bottom of the ladder, her face chalk-white and arms wrapped round her chest.
He scooted down the ladder steps and jumped the last yards to the ground.
He took a step toward her and held out a hand. “What’s wrong?”
Mouth pressed into a firm line, she shook her head and swung away, heading for the house.
“Payton, talk to me.” Despite the concern deepening his voice he kept his words gentle and calm.
For a moment he thought she wouldn’t answer and then she spun around.
Her eyes were dark pools of pain. “Promise me, Cordell, you won’t go up the windmill again.” She dashed at her cheeks as though suddenly discovering they were wet. “Promise. Me.”
“Okay. I give you my word. I won’t go up the windmill again.” He rubbed a hand across his chin. “What’s going on?”
The smooth skin of her throat rippled as she swallowed. She glanced toward the house and then back at him. Her small chin lifted but when she spoke her words were as unsteady as an earth tremor. “T … that’s how my father died. He f … fell from the windmill.”
Without thought, Cordell covered the ground between them and gathered her into his arms to pull her close. “I’m so sorry.”
She stiffened but after a long second relaxed and laid her cheek against his shirt. “I was there.” Her words were muffled and he had to strain to hear them. “But I couldn’t do anything when his foot slipped … and then I couldn’t save him when he lay on the ground.”
Cordell tightened his hold, rested his chin on the top of her silken head and held her until her shaking lessened. Words would prove powerless against her despair. Overhead a black-billed magpie called but Cordell didn’t take his attention off the grieving woman who fitted so perfectly in his arms.
The sound of the magpie roused Payton. She eased away a little. Anguish pinched her pale face. For a beat she stared at him and then her pupils dilated as though she realized he still held her. She pulled herself out of his arms and dragging her hair off her face, took two steps backwards.
He forced his arms to remain by his side and not again tug her close. “Many ranches now use solar power; you could do away with the windmill,” he said, tone quiet.
She turned toward the ranch house. “I know but replacing it costs money. When it breaks, Joe fixes it but he always does it when I’m not there.”
Cordell walked close beside her and made a mental note to make sure she was well away from Beargrass Hills when Joe tackled the windmill. He’d also make sure she would be inside when he removed the ladder and replaced it in the workshop.
“I came to ask what you wanted for lunch,” she said without looking at him.
“To tell you the truth, I’m not hungry.”
“Me, either.”
He glanced toward his truck and spoke before his self-preservation could deliver a mental head-slap. “Perhaps we both need a change of scenery? Shall we go to Marietta? I need some cattle licks and a few other things if anything is open with the rodeo finals on. We could also have a late lunch somewhere?”
She stopped walking. “We went for a ride this morning, I can’t now take the afternoon off.”
“You won’t really be taking it off. I’m sure there are some things you could do in town?”
“I suppose so.” Her brow furrowed. “I do have some shoes to offload. I could also see Trinity and Mandy and maybe catch the last of the rodeo action.” She hesitated. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Seven
‡
“Nice shoes,” Cordell commented as Payton slid into the passenger seat of his pickup truck. He’d keep everything light and breezy between them and try and chase the sadness from her eyes.
“Well, if you were a ladies size six, you could have them,” she said, tossing the pink sandals at her feet before securing her seat belt. “They are going straight into the charity bin around the side of the thrift store before Mandy can talk me into keeping them.”
She sat back in her seat and threw him an exasperated glance tinged with a hint of a smile. “Apparently heels like these are every guy’s fantasy, which makes you all very strange in my book.”
He grinned and started the truck engine. “They’re not my fantasy. I’m more of a boots man.”
He glanced at her scuffed boots. And since meeting her, it was boots worn with a very short pink dress.
Payton suddenly leaned forward and the belt pulled tight between her breasts. Scratch the pink dress. Make that boots teamed with fitted jeans and a white and turquoise western shirt. Payton had no idea how gorgeous she was. Even with no heels or boots, she’d be any hot-blooded man’s fantasy.
“Look.” She pointed to a wooden corral post. “It’s a bluebird and probably the last one you’ll see until summer.”
He looked over to where she indicated and caught the flash of vivid blue before the bird took flight.
“Did you see it?” she asked.
He nodded. “It’s such a beautiful bright blue.”
“It sure is.”
She again sat back in the seat and shot him a smile that this time reached her eyes.
The ball of tension within his chest unraveled. Payton was now doing okay. She had herself back under control.
He sent the truck rattling toward the main gate. Which was more than he could say about himself. Suggesting they travel to Marietta together wasn’t exactly his brightest idea. In the close confines of the truck he registered every breath she took and every sweep of her dark lashes as she blinked. Her fresh floral scent filled the cabin and made him yearn for a wildflower-filled summer.
She stretched and dug in her jeans pocket. Again the seat belt pulled tight across her chest. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he concentrated on the road.
“What’s your cell number?” she asked. “I’ll put it in my phone. Then I can message you if we get separated.”
He rattled off his number and focused on the Montana scenery and not on the cowgirl beside him.
The further they drove from Beargrass Hills the greener and thicker the pastures became. To his left a grove of aspens fringed a meadow, their amber leaves quaking in the sun. Movement caught his eye, and he saw two elk disappear into the trees. He looked in his rear view mirror back toward the stark brown hills of Payton’s home. Beargrass Hills had the misfortune to exist in a tiny dry microclimate that had led to its “pocket drought.” The rain clouds had to blow Payton’s way soon.
Her phone chimed. She pulled it out of her jeans pocket and read the text message. “Mandy wants to know if we would like to go to Grey’s Saloon later for beers and burgers?”
“It’s up to you, I don’t mind. Baxter and the chickens have all been fed and the horses have water so there’s no need to rush home.”
She pursed her lips. “How about we make it early as I’ve a busy day tomorrow and your cattle will be arriving?”
“Sounds good.”
She typed off
a quick message. The phone chimed again. “Now Mandy wants to know if we’ll come to the rodeo to see the bronc riding finals?”
“No, you go. I need to buy the cattle licks. I can meet you later at Grey’s Saloon.”
“Is that okay?”
“Yes.” He hoped she’d missed the huskiness in his voice. The worry in her brown eyes that he mightn’t be fine in town by himself had touched him. Usually he was the one making sure everyone else was all right.
“We’ll make a quick stop at the charity bin and then maybe you could drop me at the rodeo grounds? I’ll text when we get to Grey’s Saloon.”
“Deal.”
*
Two hours later Cordell wished he hadn’t made such a deal. After dropping Payton at the rodeo grounds on the outskirts of Marietta his truck felt strangely empty. If he’d thought being away from Payton would settle his emotions, he was wrong. Each time he returned to his truck from running an errand, her floral scent reminded him of the woman who would be cheering on some other cowboy. He only hoped she was having some long-overdue fun.
He’d collected his cattle licks from the Marietta Feed and Supply store that had remained open for any last-minute rodeo needs. He’d also managed to visit Copper Mountain Chocolates. On the floor of his truck rested a paper bag tied with copper ribbon and filled with cowboy-boot-shaped chocolates. He’d purchased the hand-made chocolates on impulse and now wondered what reason he could use to give them to Payton.
While in the mouth-watering store he’d given into his hunger and bought a chocolate-dipped frozen vanilla yoghurt bar. He’d then strolled the main street enjoying the western-themed window displays with their bales of hay, old wagon wheels and rodeo banners featuring the distinctive shape of Copper Mountain. But, even on a sugar high, a cowboy could only do so much window shopping. So he now sat in his truck waiting for Payton to text.
He checked his phone again. Nothing. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and stared through the windshield at the rodeo’s namesake. Burnished and bright in the late afternoon sun, Copper Mountain stood like a sentinel watching over the town. The snow-shrouded peak appeared identical to the image that had filled his laptop screen when he’d run an internet search on Marietta. And now, just like then, he wished the granite peak could talk. The timeless mountain would be privy to generations of scandals and secrets.
The phone he’d tossed onto the passenger side seat, whooshed. Payton had texted. He scrolled through her message and replied before firing up the truck engine and driving to the corner of First and Main.
Judging from the pickups already parked out the front of Grey’s Saloon and the country music blaring over the twin swinging doors, it was already a happening place. His phone whooshed again. He turned and parked across the road near the bank before checking his message.
Payton had seen him drive by and was waiting for him at the entrance of the saloon. He stifled a surge of pleasure and, jaw set, quit his truck. Today had been filled with high emotion, he couldn’t let it end the same way. It was time to rein in his feelings.
But as he strode along the sidewalk and Payton smiled as she caught sight of him, the instant lurch in his gut warned him it may be too late.
“Hey,” she said, weaving through the rodeo revelers heading inside the saloon. “How was your afternoon?”
“Great. And yours?”
“Good too.” Even before she answered, the rich color in her cheeks informed him she’d had an enjoyable time.
Her smile turned shy. “Thanks for suggesting we come into town, it was just what I needed.”
“Anytime.” He glanced past her, telling himself he was looking for her friends and not the blond cowboy. “Where are Trinity and Mandy?”
“Already inside.” Caution eclipsed the smile in her eyes. “Listen Cordell, Rhett drew a bad bull and his ride was over before it started. He was heading straight here and would have a few beers on board by now.”
Cordell folded his arms. “Okay. So he’s drowning his sorrows. That’s understandable.” He dipped his head toward the swing doors. “Shall we head in too?”
She reached out and curled her hand around his bare forearm where he’d rolled up the sleeves of his blue western shirt. He failed to suppress a shudder of longing.
“Rhett really is harmless.”
“And …”
Cordell didn’t need her to complete his sentence to know where this conversation headed.
“And … I can handle him,” she said, her fingers still curved around his forearm.
“I have no doubt you can.”
She slowly removed her hand. His skin mourned the loss of her warm touch. “So there won’t be any problem?”
“Not that I can see.”
But as he followed Payton into the saloon and a blond cowboy stopped midway across the room to lock gazes with him, Cordell knew there already was a problem.
Harmless. Yeah right. The flare of possessiveness in Rhett’s eyes as he headed straight for Payton tripped every internal alarm Cordell owned.
*
Payton smiled as Cordell finished another story about Mossy teaching over-confident cowboys a lesson or two. While Trinity’s and Mandy’s bursts of uncontrollable laughter filled the small, intimate booth, she examined Cordell in the dim saloon light. Sure his tanned hand might lie relaxed on the table and his other hand grasp a beer, but for the first time she caught a resemblance between him and Mossy. Cordell wasn’t a violent man, but there was something about the way he sat that suggested if trouble came his way he would be ready.
Just like Mossy exploding into life in the tie-down roping, Cordell was primed for action. He’d made sure he’d sat on the right side of the booth so he’d have an unhindered view of the saloon. Every so often his eyes would scan the room and linger where the noise and laughter was the loudest. And this was usually where Rhett and his hard-drinking friends played pool. If Payton left the booth for any reason Cordell’s gaze remained on her until she was seated again. Instead of making her feel frustrated that he didn’t think she could take care of herself, a small part of her appreciated his attention. It felt like a lifetime since she didn’t have to shoulder life’s burdens on her own.
She stifled a sigh. But there was no point feeling this way. There’d be no happy ending for her like there had been earlier at the rodeo when cowboy, Levi Monroe, had proposed to Selah while being carried away by paramedics on a stretcher.
Cordell took a sip of his beer and as he lowered the bottle, his serious eyes met hers. She felt the jolt to her toes. When Rhett looked at her, she never drowned in the blue of his gaze.
Rhett’s laugher sounded in the break between country music songs and she glanced his way. He held up his almost-empty beer glass in a silent toast to her. She shook her head and looked away. She’d made it clear to Cordell she didn’t want there to be any problem between him and Rhett. But the way Rhett was drinking it was only a matter of time before he did something reckless. When she’d arrived he’d given her a too tight hug that had lifted her off the ground. Her kick in his shins had then seen him lower her to the floor, his expression apologetic. The whole time she’d felt Cordell’s steady presence right behind her.
She faked a yawn. If she didn’t want there to be any further issues, they should leave. “Ready to go?” Cordell asked above the din.
“If you are?”
“Yes.” He pushed his half-empty beer glass away. It had been his only one for the night. She finished off her iced water. She had a busy day tomorrow too and had only ordered a single beer. She slipped to the end of the booth seat and stood.
Mandy gazed at her with horrified eyes. “No, Payton, you can’t go yet. We still have to hear what Mossy did to that arrogant Wyoming cowboy.”
Trinity, who was sitting beside Cordell, looped her arm through his, anchoring him in the booth. “We’re not letting you leave until you finish your story.”
“You guys.” Payton laughed. “Cordell can finish his
story another day. We have to go.”
She turned away to let Cordell extricate himself from Trinity’s clutches. Mossy wouldn’t be the only one with a repertoire of escape artist skills. Cordell’s arm would have been clung onto by many more feminine hands than just her friend’s.
By the time she’d reached the wide saloon bar, Cordell would have caught her up and they could leave before any trouble started. But as an arm slipped around her waist and hot beer-breath brushed her cheek, she knew she’d left leaving too late.
“Pay, don’t go,” Rhett breathed into her ear, “I haven’t told you how much I like your shirt.”
“You always like my shirt,” she said with a smile as she pulled herself from his hold, “and I’ve got work to do tomorrow.”
Rhett grabbed for her waist again. “You always have work to do.”
“I know, I’m a busy cowgirl,” she said as she again went to pull herself free. This time Rhett didn’t let her go.
“Rhett, look at me,” she said in her best don’t-mess-with-me-voice he’d recognize from first grade. “Let me go.”
“Pay, you’re so pretty when you’re mad.” Rhett’s mouth lowered. “Just gimme a kiss. I’ve had such a bad day.”
She was about to give him a firm shove, when Rhett’s arms dropped from around her. He took a step away, swayed, and expression wary, stared at something over her right shoulder. She swung around. All saloon sounds faded.
Cordell stood still, his arms loose by his side and apparently relaxed. Then she looked into his eyes, eyes that were cold, flat and emotionless. It was as though she was gazing into the face of an old west gunslinger who’d have once frequented the historic saloon. A man who, in that moment, had nothing to lose.
Rhett muttered some words she couldn’t catch before she heard the stumble of his boots as he returned to his friends.
“Cordell, I’m fine,” she whispered, taking a step toward him. His narrowed gaze remained zeroed in on Rhett. She slipped her hand in his. “Let’s go.”
Cherish Me, Cowboy (Montana Born Rodeo Book 2) Page 7
