Dude Ranch Bride
Madeline Baker
Dude Ranch Bride Copyright © Madeline Baker 2003, 2017
Published by Butterfly Kisses Press
Cover design by Cynthia Lucas
This book is dedicated to
Lisa Kelley, Carol Holko, Ronda Thompson, Karen Morriss,
Kay Coulter, Tanya Dickson, Laura Shinn,
Beverly Gladstone, Jean Paquin, Kurt Boze,
Mike Townsend and Don (I hope I haven’t forgotten anyone!)
for adding to my Star Wars collection.
May the Force be with you . . . always!
“It’s never going to work.
Why can’t you accept that?”
“Because I’m nothing but a spoiled rich girl used to getting her own way.”
“Even spoiled rich girls have to learn to accept defeat.”
“Damn you, Ethan Stormwalker. . . . Tell me you don’t care.” She took a step toward him. “Tell me that I don’t mean anything to you, that you haven’t missed me as much as I’ve missed you.” Another step. “Tell me I’m not the reason you’re out here, unable to sleep.”
“Dammit, Cindy. . .”
“Tell me, Ethan, and I’ll go away and you’ll never have to see me again.”
She was close. Too close. And he wanted her more than he wanted to see another sunrise.
Anymore.
I hardly think of him at all
except for summer, winter, spring and fall
or when someone else says his name
or I feel the heat of a candle’s flame
or hear a certain country song
about a love that done gone wrong.
And now, so it seems
he’s hardly ever in my dreams
and I hardly cry anymore at all
except for summer, winter, spring and fall
and if I sometimes call his name
who can say that I’m to blame
when his memory haunts me still
but then, I guess it always will.
—Cindy Wagner
August 19, 1998
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Chapter One
Cindy Wagner clutched her father’s arm in a death grip as they walked down the aisle toward the altar. She couldn’t go through with this. Why had she let it go this far?
Her father reached over and patted her hand. “Relax,” he whispered.
Relax? How on earth could she relax? She glanced at the long white runner that stretched ahead of her, at the pretty white satin bows at the end of the pews, the tall white wicker holders filled with fresh pink and white rosebuds and baby’s breath. Her maid of honor and five bridesmaids, all dressed in shades of mauve and carrying bouquets of pink carnations, stood there looking far happier than she felt, no doubt remembering their own weddings or dreaming of ones to come. Cindy’s two brothers, Lance and Joe, stood beside Paul, together with Paul’s two brothers and his cousin.
Why had she let her father talk her into this marriage?
From the corner of her eye, she saw her mother sitting in the front row, looking proud and sad at the same time.
Her father winced as she dug her fingernails into his arm. Another few steps and they were at the altar. The scent of roses filled the air.
Her dad leaned over and kissed her cheek and then placed her hand, her cold trembling hand, into Paul’s. Feeling abandoned, Cindy sent a mute appeal to her father, who smiled reassuringly and took a step backward. With a sigh of resignation, she turned to face the minister.
“Marriage is an honorable estate,” the pastor began, “and not to be entered into lightly. . . .”
She slid a furtive glance toward Paul. He was tall and blond and handsome, with light brown eyes and a fine straight nose. He was ambitious, even-tempered and even richer than her father. But did she want to spend the rest of her life with him? Cindy tried to tell herself that her doubts were caused by nothing more than last minute jitters—very last minute jitters, to be sure. But she knew her uncertainty went far deeper than just a case of nerves. Paul wanted to be in the limelight. He had high ambitions and saw himself running for public office in a year or two, but it wasn’t the kind of life she wanted. All she wanted to do was get married and raise three or four happy, healthy children with a man who would put his wife and children first.
Paul had made her forget that for a while. He had swept her off her feet, wined her and dined her in all the best restaurants in town, showered her with flowers and candy. Caught up in the whirlwind that was Paul VanDerHyde, she had let him convince her that she loved him.
Why hadn’t she listened to her mother?
“He’ll never make you happy, honey,” Claire Wagner had told her not twenty minutes ago. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“Mom, are you crazy?” Cindy had met her gaze in the mirror as her mother pinned her veil in place.
Not too late? There was a mountain of wedding gifts back at the house, a stretch limo waiting to take them to the airport. The bridal suite at The Plaza in New York City was reserved for them. She sighed. She hadn’t wanted to go to New York on her honeymoon, but Paul had swept away her objections, saying they would have a wonderful time, assuring her that his business there would only take one day, two at the most. They could go to Hawaii some other time.
The minister’s voice brought her back to the here and now. “And do you, Cynthia Elizabeth Wagner, take Paul Raymond VanDerHyde. . .”
Her mouth was dry, her palms damp. She heard her mother’s voice in the back of her mind: Do you love him so much you can’t imagine life without him? And Cindy knew the answer was no.
She looked at Paul and, for one wild moment, it was another face she saw. A strong masculine face framed by long black hair. And that, she thought, was the real reason she couldn’t go through with this wedding. Not now. Not ever. There was only one man she couldn’t imagine living without, and it wasn’t Paul VanDerHyde.
Overcome by a sudden sense of panic, she tugged on Paul’s hand to get his attention. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
She almost tripped on the hem of her dress as she freed her hand from his, then turned and ran down the aisle as fast as her high heels would permit, her veil billowing behind her. How could she have let Paul’s money, his romantic endearments, the large engagement ring, outweigh her doubts and cloud her judgment? How had she ever thought to find happiness with Paul when she was marrying him more to please her father than herself?
She ran faster, her eyes blurred by her tears, a sob building in her throat as she rounded the corner, pushed through the big double doors and hurried down the stairs toward the waiting limo.
The driver opened the rear door for her. Holding her veil with one hand, she ducked into the back seat.
“Go!” she said. “Now. Go. Hurry!”
The driver nodded, as if runaway brides were an everyday occurrence in his line of work. Sliding behind the wheel, he turned the key in the ignition just as Paul and members of the wedding party burst through the doorway.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“I don’t know.” She sank back against the butter-soft leather seat. “Just drive.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and pulled onto the street.
She stared out the window, watching the scenery pass by in a blur of tears. Where did runaway brides go? Where could she hide where no one would find her? A place where she wouldn’t have to explain what she had done or why. Some place where no one would know who she was.
They had been driving for several hours when she saw the billboard on the side of the road. Leaning forward, she read:
Elk Valley Dude Ranch 15 miles ahead.
Hunting. Fishing. Horseback riding.
Cabins with or without cooking facilities.
Available by the Day, Week, or Month.
Reasonable Rates.
Elk Valley Dude Ranch. Just reading the words sent unwanted frissons of excitement running through her.
Cindy closed her eyes, wondering if going there would be wise. She knew no one would look for her at a dude ranch, but there was always a chance he might show up there. For the last five years, every time she had seen a tall, broad-shouldered man with long black hair, her heart had skipped a beat in anticipation.
She hoped he would be there. Seeing him again might be a good thing, she decided, wiping the last of her tears from her eyes. Maybe confronting him again would banish him from her heart once and for all.
Chapter Two
Ethan Stormwalker swore under his breath as a long white limo pulled up in front of the ranch office. Man, Dorothea must be expecting some mighty rich greenhorns this time, he mused with a shake of his head. Most guests arrived at the ranch in dusty vans or SUVs, or driving old station wagons.
The limo driver exited the vehicle, straightened his jacket and opened the back door. Ethan nearly fell down the stairs as a woman clad in a long white wedding gown stepped out of the car. He couldn’t help staring. Her hair, piled in thick curls atop her head, was as black as his own. She had lovely clear skin, generous curves in all the right places, and a waist so small he could span it with his hands. At this distance, he couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew they were as clear and blue as the Montana sky overhead.
He whistled softly. He hadn’t seen her in five years, but he had carried her image in his mind and in his heart every day of those years. She had always been a knockout, and he swore again, envying the guy that had been lucky enough to marry her. Ethan waited, curious to see what kind of man Cynthia Elizabeth Wagner had picked.
Cindy spoke to the driver, then lifted her skirts to keep them out of the dirt as she walked toward the office, her veil blowing lightly in the breeze.
Ethan quickly turned his back, pretending to study the notices thumbtacked to the bulletin board. What the hell was she doing here, and how was he going to avoid her? He glanced back at the limo, wondering where the groom was. He couldn’t see anything or anyone through the tinted windows.
The bell above the door chimed softly as she opened it and stepped inside. He told himself to get out of there before she came back out, but he didn’t move, only stood there like some nerdy high school kid hoping to catch a glimpse of the prom queen.
She emerged from the office a few moments later. From the corner of his eye, Ethan watched her descend the stairs. She spoke to the driver, who went around the back of the limo, opened the trunk and lifted out a small overnight case and a black handbag. He handed both to Cindy, smiled at her, then slid behind the wheel of the limo and drove off.
She stood there a moment, staring after the limo, a wistful expression on her face, and then marched across the yard and back into the office.
No groom? Consumed with curiosity, Ethan was tempted to follow her inside, but he’d just got back from a long trail ride with eleven city kids and he needed a hot shower and a cold beer, in that order. And he had vowed never to speak to Cindy Wagner again, not in this life and not in the next.
With a shake of his head, he shoved her out of his mind and headed for the corral.
Cindy tossed her overnight case and purse on the cabin’s double bed, along with the bag of new clothes she had just bought at the gift shop. Then, with a sigh, she sat down on the foot of the bed.
She glanced around the room. Though the outside of the cabin was made of rough-hewn logs, the interior seemed modern enough. There was a double bed, a dresser and mirror, a comfy looking, overstuffed chair, a couple of tables with Western-style lamps, and a TV set. She could see a sink and small refrigerator in the next room.
She looked at the bag on the bed and thought of the two suitcases filled with her trousseau waiting for her at the hotel where they had booked the reception, and the slinky, ice-blue silk suit that was to have been her going away outfit. And the frothy white negligee she had planned to wear later tonight. And the gauzy black one. And the silky red one. . . Oh, well, there was no help for it now. Her mother would get her things and they would be waiting for her when she got home, though she didn’t know if she would ever want to wear anything that would remind her of today’s fiasco.
For a moment, Cindy stared at the colorful throw rug on the floor. Her life was like that, she thought, a lot of colors woven together with no visible pattern. What was she going to tell her parents? What was she going to tell Paul? How would she ever face her friends and family again? Her brothers would never let her hear the end of it, especially Lance. Why had she ever let things go so far?
With a shake of her head, she kicked off her white satin pumps. Judging by the look of surprise on the face of the woman Cindy had talked to in the office, she was the first person to ever show up at the dude ranch wearing a wedding dress, or at least the first bride to show up without a groom at her side. Cindy was lucky there had been a last minute cancellation.
She stepped out of her lacy white half slip and draped it over the back of the chair in the corner.
It was no easy task, unfastening the long row of tiny, silk-covered buttons that ran down the back of her dress, but she finally managed it. It was a beautiful gown, she thought as she spread it over the petticoat, exactly the kind of dress she had always dreamed of being married in. Unpinning her veil, she laid it on top of her gown.
She stared at the ring on her finger, felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she took it off and placed it inside her overnight case. How could she have let things go so far? Why had she let Paul make all their decisions? He had decided when they would get married, had picked out the church, had decided where they would have the reception, where they would go for their honeymoon. The worst of it was, he had convinced her that she wanted a huge wedding, a huge reception and a honeymoon in New York City, when what she had really wanted was a small wedding and a honeymoon in Hawaii.
She pulled off the pretty white garter with its tiny, pink satin flowers and dropped it into her overnight case, then peeled off her panty hose and tossed them on top of the dress. Pulling the pins from her curls, she shook her head until her hair fell down around her shoulders. That was another thing. She had wanted to wear her hair down, but Paul liked it up.
It infuriated her, to think how he had manipulated her! How she had let him get away with it! She was a smart woman. She had a B.A. in nineteenth-century American history and a mind of her own, yet Paul VanDerHyde had breezed into her life and taken it over as if he had every right to do so. And she had let him! Never again! She was through with arrogant macho men. Maybe through with men altogether! Her aunt Stell seemed perfectly happy living alone with her eight cats, three dogs and a parrot that quoted Sylvester Stallone movies. . . .
Cindy laughed in spite of herself as she tugged on the jeans she had bought. So maybe she wasn’t ready to become a recluse surrounded by pets. But it would be a long time before she looked twice at any man again unless he had Russell Crowe’s sexy voice, eyes like Antonio Banderas, Mel Gibson’s smile, a body like a Greek god. And long black hair like. . .
She shook his image and his name from her mind. She had once vowed never to think of him again, ye
t she seemed to see him at every turn. Even the man she had seen standing outside the office had reminded her of him, but maybe that was to be expected, since a member of his family owned the ranch. She never should have come here!
“Get over it!” she muttered. “I’m sure he has.”
She pulled a blue T-shirt emblazoned with the Elk Valley Dude Ranch logo from the sack and slipped it over her head. The woman in the office had told her there was a town a few miles away where she could buy more than just jeans and souvenir T-shirts. Her nephew went in every Monday for supplies, the woman had said; Cindy was welcome to go along with him if she was so inclined.
The only shoes available at the gift shop had been a pair of plastic sandals with huge, hot pink, plastic roses on top. Slipping them on, she decided to go outside and have a look around. Sooner or later, she would have to call home and let her parents know she was all right, but not now. For now, all she wanted was to be alone in her misery.
Tucking the key to her cabin into the pocket of her jeans, she stepped outside, locking the door behind her.
There seemed to be people everywhere—hanging over the corral fence watching a cowboy ride a bronc, playing horseshoes and shuffleboard and volleyball, or just sitting in the shade or relaxing in the late afternoon sun.
Cindy wasn’t in the mood to be with people or indulge in aimless chitchat, or, worse yet, explain what she was doing there alone. Going around the back of her cabin, she spied a narrow trail that led away from the ranch yard.
The scenery was lovely, and for a moment she forgot everything else. Caught up in the natural beauty around her, she followed the dirt path. It ran alongside a shallow, winding stream lined by tall trees whose silvery leaves whispered in the soft summer breeze.
As she rounded a bend in the trail, another cabin came into view. A dog that looked more like a wolf was stretched out on the porch. It lifted its head and stared at her through large amber eyes, and Cindy noticed its sharp white teeth. The better to eat you with, my dear, she thought.
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