Front Range Cowboys (5 Book Box Set)

by Evie Nichole

  But before Laredo could say anything, Aria utterly beat him to it. She leaned out from behind Laredo’s shoulder and pegged Paul Weatherby with a withering glare. “So, tell me, Paul, was it you the other night ripping through my fields and tearing down my fences? Or was it just your minions doing your dirty work?”

  “Excuse me?” Paul stopped smiling. “I don’t tear down fences and rip up fields. That’s not my thing.”

  “No?” Aria stood there with her hands on her hips and her head cocked to one side. Her sable brown hair touched her shoulders and perfectly framed her face. “So, it was your minions, then. I should have known. A man like you would never have the balls to do something on his own. Men like you only issue the orders and watch other people do the hard work.”

  “What?” Weatherby sneered. “Like that drunk you’re standing beside right now?”

  “Drunk?” Aria’s mocking voice mocked Laredo too. He felt shame and wished he could make it stop. But Aria wasn’t done. “He’s not drunk. He hasn’t had a drink. Pretty much the rest of the room is drunk. I think you’ve probably had a few too.”

  “Why do you say that?” Weatherby sneered.

  Aria curled her lip at him. “Because you’re standing here having this conversation. Right? And there’s no way a guy like you could do that without a bit of liquid courage to push him on.”

  “How dare you!” Weatherby drew himself up tall. “I’m a police officer!”

  “Which has always baffled me.” Aria tapped her upper lip with the tip of her index finger. “Doesn’t the police department realize that the reason you do so well as a captain is that you need to ride on the shoulders of other, more competent, men? It’s the way you’ve built your ranching business. It’s the way you win with your horses. And it’s the way you deal with people in your personal life.”

  “You bitch!” Paul Weatherby actually lunged at Aria.

  Laredo’s instincts kicked in fast. He threw out his arm. Weatherby bounced off as though Laredo’s forearm was an iron bar. He was flung back a few steps, but that put him down and not out.

  Before Laredo could even guess what was coming, Weatherby swung a full right cross. The blow caught Laredo across the jaw, but it was a glancing blow. It rocked his head back just a bit on his spine but did not leave him reeling like Paul Weatherby had intended. Instead, Laredo was left glaring at Paul and leaning forward with a distinct look of hatred on his face.

  “You realize you just threw the first punch,” Laredo growled at the useless police captain. “As a law-abiding citizen, you know what that means.”

  “You can’t touch me!” Weatherby boasted. “I’m a policeman, and that would be assaulting an officer of the law.”

  “Except you’re not on duty and you’re not in uniform,” Laredo pointed out. “That means you’re a private citizen just like us.”

  Weatherby’s nostrils flared for a brief moment. Laredo was almost sure the man was going to take another swing, until the chairman of the Cattleman’s Association—Bud Alder—walked up at right that very minute. He had another, shorter, man by his side.

  “Boys,” Bud drawled. “I wanted to introduce both of you to Mr. Henry King. He’s the chairman of the rodeo board and the man who will be making the final recommendation and decision about the new stock contract.”

  Paul Weatherby seemed to immediately forget the quarrel. He stuck his hand out and shoved it right underneath Henry King’s nose. “Let me introduce myself, sir. I am Paul Weatherby of the Flying W Ranch. I am honored to meet you.”

  Henry King’s reaction was very curious. He shook the offered hand, but after that, he thrust his lower lip up against the upper one and created a very odd sort of expression. “Fat bulls.”

  “Excuse me?” Weatherby looked confused. “Did you say fat bulls?”

  “Yes.” King was nodding, a grave expression on his face. “Your bulls are fat.”

  Weatherby shook his head, immediately launching into a campaign to save face. “Our bulls are thousands of pounds of muscle, sir. Each one is carefully bred and then fattened to appropriate industry standards.”

  “For breeding bulls maybe,” King muttered. The man looked as though he was in his eighties, but his rheumy eyes were bright with intelligence. “A bucking bull needs muscle or it can’t even buck out the full eight seconds. That means the cowboys get easier rides and the prize money gets paid out far more often. A bull is supposed to be hard as hell to ride.”

  Laredo felt as though the words were bursting out of his mind, a product of being raised on the Hernandez ranch by a man like Joe Hernandez. “A rodeo bull must be fed a huge calorie diet, while being maintained on a steady exercise regimen that is so subtle that he does not realize that it’s happening. We pen our bulls on a huge set of hills. They have to walk up and down the hills every time they want to get something to eat or drink. It means we have to feed them more, because they burn calories, but they’re also stronger.”

  “Hernandez bulls are good bulls,” King muttered. He gave a nod and then smacked Laredo on the shoulder. “Your daddy wouldn’t allow any other kind on his ranch.”

  Laredo was very tired of people thinking that Joe Hernandez still had anything to do with the day-to-day running of the operation anymore, but for the most part, the way that they did things did come from Joe. And right now, Laredo was just too tired to argue.

  “Thank you, sir,” Laredo said respectfully. “I hope you’ll remember that when you consider the contracting bids.”

  “Oh, we will, young man,” King told Laredo before he and Bud walked away. “We most certainly will.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aria thought she might bust wide open with pride at how well Laredo had handled himself. He was the absolute image of composure and good breeding. Funny how breeding was pretty much the backbone of every single part of their lives.

  Laredo was tall and distinguished in his black suit. His tooled cowboy boots didn’t look overdone or false. They were real. The heels were worn, and she could even see a few rub marks from his stirrups if she looked close enough. Laredo was an honest to goodness cowboy, and that was getting more and more rare, as she was learning.

  Paul Weatherby was a great example of that. The guy looked like a peacock. His thinning blond hair was slicked back. He was red-faced from all the alcohol he’d consumed, and she could see he was back up at the bar getting yet another refill on his glass of scotch.

  “Laredo,” Aria murmured. She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “I think we should go.”

  “You do?” Laredo’s brows drew down in a frown that was more confused than anything else. “They haven’t even served dinner yet.”

  Aria glanced around the room. There was not a person in sight that did not have a drink in hand. She felt her stomach beginning to cramp in anticipation of something ugly. There had already been a scuffle between Paul Weatherby and Laredo. How much worse would things get if they were both drinking? What if they were drunk? What if Laredo started drinking? Would the fairytale end? He had crunched up the front of his truck and passed out drunk on his kitchen counter. What would happen if he got drunk again?

  He would never hurt me. Laredo isn’t like that.

  But alcohol changed people. Her palms started to sweat as she recalled all of those times with her father. The times when the man who was her teacher and friend pulled a beer out of the fridge and became a terrible tyrant who yelled and screamed and threw things at her and her mother.

  Nobody had known what it was like in the Callahan household. Nobody had asked, and Aria had been trained not to tell. Perhaps if Aria had not known Laredo when he was younger, she would not even be willing to be anywhere near him now. But Laredo wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t really a drunk. There were other things at work here.

  “What’s wrong?” Laredo whispered. “You’re tense.”

  The band had stopped playing. The ballroom had begun to steadily fill up with members of the association, their gue
sts, and anyone else with enough money to pay the five hundred dollar a plate price tag. Now the assembled guests were beginning to move toward the tables laden with catered food. A buffet line was set up. There were round tables all around the perimeter of the dance floor. At the front of the ballroom, there was a podium where a speaker would give some kind of speech during the meal. There were wine bottles all over the table, and the bar was doing a huge amount of business as people did their best to drink and be merry.

  “I just want to go,” she whispered.

  Laredo put his arm around her lower back and began to escort her toward a table. “Just sit and let me bring you some food. Please? Just a little longer and we’ll go.” Laredo’s solicitous tone was impossible to gainsay.

  She grabbed his arm. “No alcohol. Please?”

  “Ah. I see. No alcohol,” he said fervently. “I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  Aria watched Laredo approach the buffet table. There were more than a few men who spoke to him. They were obviously seeking him out on purpose. He was a man of some position. That was something she knew. It felt good to see that other people could value him the way she knew that he deserved.

  “Hey, you.”

  Aria turned with no small amount of surprise as Jesse plopped down beside her. Aria reached out and hugged her friend. “Thank you for being here.”

  “I’m not here for you.” Jesse drew back in surprise. “You’re acting like this is basically an execution.”

  “I know you’re not here for me, but at least I know somebody. That was a little more than I honestly expected.” Aria glanced around the room at the glitz and glamour of Denver’s high falutin’ ranch society. “These people are all rolling in the cash.”

  “Enough of it that they could all afford to gold plate the horse crap in their yards,” Jesse agreed. “Just remember that most of them know you, or they knew your folks. And they all know that Clouds End Farm is a big deal. You’ve won some pretty heavy titles in the last few years, Aria. That’s not a small thing.”

  “What are you doing here?” Aria wondered suddenly. “You don’t do stuff like this.”

  “I know.” Jesse wrinkled her nose. She was wearing a pretty blue dress that matched her eyes. Her blond hair was piled atop her head, and she looked like a fashion model because she was just that pretty. “But I’m a rancher now, and I need to schmooze like a good girl.”

  “That’s what Laredo convinced me of too.” Aria glanced over and saw that he was finally standing beside the prime rib carving station. “So, I decided to come along with him since there was no way I could afford this myself.”

  “I’m surprised you’re dating him,” Jesse murmured. “I mean, I honestly always thought you had a thing for him.”

  Aria snorted. “You just hoped I didn’t have a thing for Cal. Don’t lie.”

  “True. But you used to talk about Laredo incessantly. You used to bitch about him and complain about him, and you nagged the hell out of him because you were convinced that he was wrong pretty much all the time.”

  “That was before,” Aria murmured. She didn’t really want to talk about this.

  Jesse tilted her head to one side. “Before what? I remember that it stopped not long after Laredo got engaged, I think. I figured you’d gotten over him because he was obviously not interested in you.”

  “It was complicated.” Aria’s brain replayed that horrible moment when she had seen Helena making fun of Laredo for looking too big for his horse. The woman had ripped that man apart so methodically that Aria had felt the urge to go over and knock her out of her saddle. But Aria wasn’t about to tell Jesse that.

  “Jesse,” Laredo said, appearing with two plates. He set the food carefully on the table and gave his adopted sister a very stiff smile. “I’m glad to see you here.”

  “No, you’re not.” Jesse snorted and stood up. “You and your father are both pissed that I would dare pretend to be a real ranch owner.”

  “You are a real ranch owner,” Aria reminded Jesse. “I’m sure both Laredo and Joe know that.”

  Laredo had opened his mouth to respond when Joe Hernandez came swaggering up. The scent of beer was heavy around him, and Aria gave a low groan. This was not going to end well. Her stomach was already cramping. She wanted out of here. She wanted away from these people. What had she been thinking, coming here?

  “Well, little Jesse Collins,” Joe Hernandez said sarcastically. “Imagine seeing you here with all of the real ranchers!”

  “Uh huh,” Jesse muttered. “Let me guess. You think I should stay away because I’m not actually a real owner. Right?”

  “Exactly!” Joe blustered. Then he slapped Laredo on the back. “See? I don’t know why you have so much trouble with this filly. She knows how it is! She knows what she’s supposed to do.”

  “Oh, do I?” Jesse drawled. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at Joe. “I’m supposed to be running my own ranch. I’m twenty-one, and that’s what my parents intended to happen, Uncle Joe.”

  “Did they?” Joe’s slurred speech was hard to discern. “Because I bet you don’t remember them like I do. They wanted better for their daughter. They wanted her to grow up and marry well and have kids. They wanted a girl, not some tomboy female reject who doesn’t know how to wear a skirt and cook a decent meal!”

  Aria felt her cheeks flare red hot. Joe was essentially describing her. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook. She just rarely had the kind of time it took to make a meal or bake something in the kitchen.

  Jesse seemed to feel as though she and Aria had been insulted together too, because she looked at Aria and then pointed to Joe. “You’re an ass. You know that? Your son is standing here with a wonderful woman who is every bit of the tomboy who doesn’t know her place that you just described. She’s fantastic, and you just made her sound like a freak!”

  “Dad,” Laredo said quietly. “People are starting to stare. Are you trying to pull a Flying W move and get everyone’s attention? Or are you going to back off and go sit down with—wait. Where’s Mom?”

  It was as if the Hernandez children had just realized that Avery Hernandez was noticeably not present at this social event. She had not missed a Cattleman’s Association dinner in ages.

  Joe Hernandez scratched the back of his neck and looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Your mom didn’t want to come.”

  “Didn’t want to come?” Laredo barked. “Are you kidding me? Is she sick?”

  “Sick and tired of seeing you make a fool of us all ‘cause you’re drunk,” Joe retorted. “That’s what she said.”

  Laredo’s face went pale as ash. He took a step back from the table. His mouth opened, but no words came out. Aria jumped up. She grabbed his hand and started tugging him toward the exit.

  “Let’s just go,” she urged. “There’s no point in staying. Come one. Let’s go. Please?”

  “Yeah, Laredo,” Joe said loudly. “Go home and pout.”

  Aria spun around and pointed at Joe Hernandez. “You are the embarrassment. Are you sure that you’re not the one Avery was worried about making a fool out of her? You’re drunk. Laredo is totally sober. But you’re going to stand there and judge him for no reason! Why? What point does it serve? Does it make you feel better about yourself? Does it make you feel like you’re still in charge? This man has been running your business for years and letting you pretend to hold the reins. You’d better thank your lucky stars that he hasn’t dumped you on your ass!”

  All of a sudden, Aria’s tirade was done and she realized that pretty much every single person in the room was staring at her as though she had suddenly grown a second head. It was embarrassing. She was not this type of person. She didn’t get involved in other people’s squabbles and fights. She minded her own business and did her own thing, and it worked for her.

  “Wow,” Jesse said softly. “Nicely spoken, Aria.”

  Not that it probably even sank into Joe Hernandez’s thick head. The guy
was gaping at her as though she’d sprouted horns or something. He might have expected her to start mooing at any second. Aria was pretty sure that’s what everyone else was thinking. Then she caught sight of Paul Weatherby’s smirk across the room and abruptly decided that she’d had it.

  “I’m done here,” Aria muttered. “This is ridiculous.”

  She turned on her heel and stalked out of the ballroom, leaving a gallery of well-heeled members of Denver’s high society staring with their mouths wide open. She might be a ranch owner—or at least a farm owner, but she wasn’t on par with these people. Aria was lucky to make enough money to pay the hay bill most years. These people had shown up in Cadillacs and trucks that cost twice what the house on her property was worth. They knew she didn’t belong even if Laredo Hernandez insisted otherwise.

  Aria had made it almost all the way to the front entrance of the hotel before she realized that she hadn’t driven herself to this party. Abruptly stopping in the middle of the lobby, she felt as though she were going to cry. There was nothing more humiliating than exiting without an actual exit strategy.

  There was a fountain in the middle of the lobby. It was way overdone with mermaids and dolphins spitting water in the middle. Aria wandered closer to the silly-looking thing and sat down on the edge. Her feet were killing her. She hated heels and pantyhose and pretty much everything else about dressing up for this kind of thing. She felt out of place, and it was making her crazy. Or maybe she was just feeling crazy. It was hard to say.

  She trailed her fingers through the water and sighed. Of course, that was the moment that Paul Weatherby chose to appear just a few feet away from her position at the edge of the fountain. Had he followed her? A chill slid down her spine at the thought of that man choosing to take any kind of interest in her or her farm.

  “You made a big mistake in there,” Weatherby drawled. “You can never let them see your true colors when you’re”—he gestured to her with a very dismissive wave of his hand—”you know, like you.”