The Wrangler

by Lindsay McKenna

  “For them, it might be,” Slade said. “What I can do is create a payment plan. Gus can pay one-third up front and the rest can be paid over a twelve-month time frame.”

  “That’s generous of you,” Griff said, meaning it. “Let me see what they think.”

  After hanging up with Slade, Griff went back into the kitchen to tell the women about the conversation. Gus sat at the table enjoying her coffee and Val stood at the sink washing dishes. Her hands were dripping with water and soap. Eyes huge, she said, “That’s three thousand dollars, Gus. That’s a lot of money.”

  Griff heard the worry and concern in Val’s voice. He thought the same but said nothing.

  “You call Slade back and tell him that we’ll be trucking those heifers up to him starting tomorrow morning,” Gus ordered. “Thank him for being kind and letting us do payments, but I got the money. I’ll cut him a check for the full amount.”

  He saw the sparkle in Miss Gus’s blue eyes. “You’re a woman of action.”

  With a chuckle, Gus said, “I’d rather pay the fee than deal with a damned bull that’s ten times the headache of any heifer.”

  “I don’t disagree with you,” Griff said, keeping Diablo’s nasty temper in mind. He remembered how much of a problem Diablo was. Even Slade, who had raised him, had been gored in the leg by the beast. A bull was contrary and never to be trusted. Yet, when he was with his herd of “girls” he was sweet to them. He seemed to only hate humans.

  Val finished washing the dishes. “Then that means we have to get our stock trailer repaired pronto, Griff. It’s got four flat tires that need to be replaced and the rear gate needs some repair.” Stock trailers were part and parcel of a ranch operation. Val knew the one near the barn hadn’t been used in at least five years, maybe longer. It needed a new coat of paint, greasing of the ball bearings and other essential inspections to make sure it could hold the weight of the heifers. “We can get seven heifers in it at a time, but we really have to make sure it’s roadworthy first.”

  “I know.” Gus looked over at Griff. “You ever repaired a trailer?”

  “No,” Griff replied, “but I think I can do it. I’m good with autos and trucks.”

  Grunting, Gus thought for a moment. “Well, we’re in a hurry. I want you to grease that stock trailer up and check it out from stem to stern for any problems. It has to carry a lot of weight. You’re gonna need a whole set of new tires for it. I’ll give you the money to run into town and buy ’em.”

  Griff recalled the stock trailer sitting at the side of the barn. It was in rough shape. The white paint had been peeled off by the harsh winters, revealing the gray aluminum beneath it. All the tires were aged, cracked and flat. “Okay, first Val and I should get the heifers to that small pasture near the barn. Then, I’ll check out the stock trailer. I’ll make a list of things we need for it and go into town later today and buy the stuff.”

  “Do you think you can be ready to roll by tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Unless I run into something major, like a broken axle, I can have it ready.”

  Griff walked out of the house to make the second call to Slade, letting him know they’d be by tomorrow. By the time he was done, Val sauntered out to the porch and settled the Stetson on her head.

  “You’re going to be really busy.”

  Shrugging, Griff tucked his cell phone into his shirt pocket and smiled over at Val. “Hey, I like ranching. This is what it’s all about.”

  Val nodded and they walked down to the shade of the maple tree where Freckles and Socks were tied. She tightened the girth on Socks’s saddle and pulled the reins over the animal’s head. “We need to see what shape that stock trailer is in. It’s a mess….”

  Griff patted Freckles, tightened the girth and mounted his horse. “Yeah, it’s not very inspiring, is it?”

  “The trailer should have been brought inside every winter, but it wasn’t.” Val turned her horse toward the barn.

  “We’ll find out shortly. I’ve been focused on fence posts and stringing barbed wire up until now.”

  Val met his teasing smile. She could see happiness glimmering in Griff’s eyes. She was happy too. There was something magical going on between them. They were a team. And they were good at what they did. Her heart burst open with a sensation of joy.

  Griff trotted ahead of her. He was slouched easily in the saddle, at one with his horse and the elements around him. His shoulders were broad, proud, and his rugged face burned dark by the sun. In that split second, Val wanted to love Griff. What would it be like to kiss this man? She finally desired a man after the loss of her fiancé. Confused and a little afraid, Val tucked all those yearnings and fears away. Right now, they had to focus on moving the heifers to a nearby pasture. And then, they had work ahead of them with the disheveled stock trailer.

  * * *

  GRIFF WAS ON HIS BACK BENEATH the stock trailer. The late-afternoon heat made him sweat even more as he used the flashlight Val had provided to check things out. “This axle isn’t looking good,” he said in a low tone. Sweat ran down in his eyes. He blinked several times as he dug the heels of his boots into the dirt to push himself a few more inches forward to inspect the entire rusted axle.

  Val was down on her hands and knees, leaning over to watch his progress beneath the trailer. “I asked Gus how long it had been since this trailer was used and she said ten years.” She saw Griff inching along, carefully inspecting the entire length of the axle from one side to the other. A crack would render it useless. And if Griff found a problem, it would mean having to buy another trailer this afternoon. Which would cost a lot of money.

  Grunting, Griff said, “I believe it.” This was a sixteen-foot aluminum trailer with a double rear axle. It took four tires and all of them had to be thrown away. Griff had already replaced the tires. Perspiration ran down his temples. His back felt every hard stone and clod of dirt digging through the fabric of his shirt and into his flesh. He wondered if there were black widow spiders among all the cobwebs he had to keep sweeping away from his face, but pushed that fear aside. Making it to the other side, he wriggled out and slowly sat up.

  Val got off her knees and walked around to meet him as he brushed some of the dust off his shoulders. “Here, let me help,” she said, moving around to his back. His shirt was filthy with dirt, bits of grass and dry weeds clinging to the material. As she wiped at his back, she reveled in the secret pleasure of getting to touch him. She could feel his muscles respond to her light contact. A thrill coursed through Val and she inhaled Griff’s masculine scent as if it were perfume.

  “There,” she said, stepping away and brushing her hands on one another. “You’re ready to inspect the second axle.”

  Griff wanted to tell Val that her touch was like heaven. Her help had been an unexpected pleasure. Her touch even more so. “It’s rusty but I don’t see any fractures or cracks in the first one. It could use a good wire brushing and some protective rust coating.”

  “Sometime in the future,” Val said. “Not today.”

  Griff reached for the iced tea that sat on the aluminum fender of the trailer. “No,” he agreed, “not today.”

  Val watched the sweat trickle down his gleaming neck as he drank the contents of the glass. Griff didn’t mind getting dirty. That was part of being a wrangler. She watched as he set the glass down on the fender and dropped back down to his hands and knees. He turned on his back, pushing in under the trailer to begin inspecting the second axle. For a moment, Val was able to absorb the sight of his narrow hips and long, powerful legs. He had a body meant to ride a horse. Although his legs weren’t bowed, as many wranglers got to be after a while, he had what it took to become a good rancher.

  Her mouth went dry and she picked an ice cube out of the empty glass, popping it into her mouth to suck on it. Griff slowly disappeared beneath the trailer. Val kne
w it was important to remain here with him. If, for some unknown reason, the twenty-five-hundred-pound trailer unexpectedly shifted or fell off the jack, it could kill him. There was an unspoken agreement when someone worked around a trailer, a second person was always there just in case.

  Getting down on her knees again, Val saw how hard he concentrated as he worked under the trailer. “I wonder, do you pay this kind of attention to all the details in the rest of your life?”

  Griff laughed abruptly but held his focus on the rusted axle. “Wall Street was nothing but details. I’ve always liked all kinds of details. If you don’t pay attention to them, they’ll bite you in the butt.”

  Laughing softly, Val saw the faint outline of his rugged face. He was smiling. “Well stated.”

  “In your business in the Air Force, you had to do plenty of detail work too. It can’t be easy to pick things out in photos from satellite distance.”

  “I’m like you. I enjoy details.”

  “And we both like horses. Yet another thing we have in common.” There was something euphoric about talking intimately with Val.

  “Did you ride horses in New York City?”

  “No, I just played banker and stock broker.”

  “No walks in Central Park?” It was a huge rectangular area in the city that had grass, water and trees, unlike the canyons of concrete, steel and glass that surrounded it.

  “I walked in Central Park every chance I got. You’ve been there?” Griff rested for a moment. The heat was intense and there was little breeze beneath the trailer. He felt like his body had turned into a wringing wet sponge.

  “Once. Too much noise and bustling activity. It overwhelmed my senses.”

  “A lot of country and rural people have the same reaction.”

  “How could you handle it?”

  “I grew up with it.” Pushing the heel of his boots into the soil, the top of his head emerged from beneath the trailer. His eyes narrowed as he slowly inspected the metal. “I guess I didn’t know any different. But Wyoming has her own magic she sprinkles over an unsuspecting person.”

  Smiling a little, Val said wistfully, “I always missed Wyoming no matter where I went in the world. I can’t say I liked the desert of Bahrain. I missed the lush green grass, trees and the weather.”

  “Not a fan of a haboob?” Griff teased. It was Arabic for dust storm. He rolled onto his hands and knees. Looking over, he gave her a grin and then stood up, brushing himself off once more.

  Val stood. “I hated them. I had to dust everything for days afterward to get rid of the sand.”

  “That’s probably when you missed Wyoming the most.” Griff laid the flashlight down on the fender, took off his hat and used the back of his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow.

  “You’re right, I did.” The look in his eyes stirred her. Val felt her breasts responding to his narrowed look. There was more in his gaze than she first realized. If she read it right, it was the look of a man appreciating his woman. The realization was like a lightning bolt through Val. She’d gone so long without a man that she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be desired. And clearly, if she was reading Griff’s look correctly, he wanted her. Excitement, need and fear coursed through Val.

  She calmed herself enough to ask, “What do you think about the axles? Are they fit for the road or not?”

  “Yes.” Griff scowled and critically studied the beat-up trailer. “But I have a lot of work to do before the sun goes down.”

  Nodding, Val said, “I’ll go get us some more iced tea.”

  “You must have been reading my mind.” Griff laid down the flashlight, took off the bandanna from around his neck and wiped his face dry.

  Val hurried down the gentle slope toward the ranch house, glasses in hand.

  Griff stood in the shade of the barn and appreciated the way Val moved before walking over to the tack room where all the tools, nuts and bolts were kept. There was a cooling breeze down the center aisle and it felt good against his hot, damp skin.

  Just as he had brought out a toolbox and was walking toward the trailer, he saw another pickup enter the yard. Halting, Griff realized with a scowl that it was a very unwelcome visitor. Curt Downing. What the hell did he want?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  GRIFF INSTANTLY WENT on internal guard. Curt Downing was dressed in a white shirt and Levi’s, a black Stetson on his reddish-blond hair. There was another man whom he didn’t recognize climbing awkwardly out of the truck, dressed in a dark pin-striped business suit. He looked like a banker. Griff could spot one a mile away. He watched Downing and the banker climb the stairs to the porch, where Miss Gus was sitting in her favorite rocker. Val came with two glasses of iced tea in her hands and abruptly halted. The relaxed look on her face turned to instant distrust as she spotted the two men.

  Griff didn’t want the women alone with these two jackals. He hurried down the slope. He rounded the ranch house to see Downing was taking off his hat and addressing a scowling Gus.

  Gus squinted and glared up at the tall cowboy. “I don’t recall any phone call or appointment with you, Mr. Downing.”

  Crusty old bitch, Downing thought as he settled his hat back on his head. “I apologize, Miss Gus. But my banker from Cheyenne, Frank Latimer, and I just happened to be driving by.” Curt smiled a little, gloat in his voice. “We’re working on a land-swap deal with the forest service to buy their side of Long Lake.”

  Brows flying upward, Gus looked at Val, who was now standing beside her. Val was frowning, a look of anger in her eyes. As she swung her gaze back to Downing, she saw a feral look in his expression. He was smiling, but his eyes were colder than a winter blizzard. Sensing something important was afoot, Gus waved her hand toward two wooden chairs next to hers. “Have a seat, gentlemen.”

  Val opened her mouth to protest, but she saw Gus signal her with a slight shake of her head to remain silent.

  “Val, give these two men the glasses of iced tea you’re holdin’. They look parched.” Gus made an effort to smile. She didn’t like playing games but when she had to be a coyote, she could do it.

  Val did as she was told and Downing took his glass without saying anything.

  The banker thanked her. Latimer was overweight and sweaty. He pulled out a white handkerchief and blotted his small forehead. Val trained her gaze on Griff, who came up the steps with authority. She could see the set of his jaw and the flash of distrust in his eyes. She felt the same way.

  Griff looked toward Miss Gus. “Can I be of help?”

  “Sure, but why don’t you shed those dirty clothes, catch a quick shower and come back and join us?”

  “I will.” Griff gave Downing a look of warning. The son of a bitch was up to no good. He could feel it. Swinging past the screen door, Griff disappeared.

  “Miss Gus,” Downing purred, “I have business to discuss with you and Miss Hunter. I don’t think you need a hired hand to overhear our conversation, do you?”

  Ah, Downing was spooked by McPherson. That told Gus a lot. “Well now, my wrangler is more than what he first appears to be, Mr. Downing. He’s got an MBA from Harvard.” Gus sat forward, a slight smile cracking her mouth. “Do you?”

  “Er…no,” Downing said in a huff, trying to appear unmoved by that information.

  “And you, Mr. Banker?” Gus inquired sweetly, swinging her narrowed gaze to the sweaty banker.

  “Why, no I don’t, Miss Gus.”

  “I see,” she murmured, rocking back and forth, smiling and looking out over the land.

  Fuming inwardly, Downing said nothing. He drank the sweetened iced tea and made small talk for fifteen minutes before McPherson reappeared. The wrangler came out and took the chair next to Gus. Val sat on the other side of her grandmother. Clearly, the two visitors distrusted him, their faces openly
showing hostility over his presence. Too bad.

  Val appreciated Griff’s strong, straight posture, his broad shoulders thrown back. He’d cleaned up, his dark hair gleaming with dampness, his darkening stubble making him look like the warrior he was. She was discovering that even though Griff was soft-spoken and thoughtful, there was a very protective knight within him. Right now, his bristling guard dog energy surrounded her and Gus. When he sat down, he pulled out his chair to directly face the two men. Resting his elbows on his knees, Griff’s mouth remained thinned. He didn’t like these men, either. None of them did.

  “Okay, Mr. Downing,” Gus said, “why don’t you tell us why you’ve dropped by without warning?”

  “Well,” Curt said, setting his emptied glass on a small nearby table, “I just couldn’t contain my good news and wanted to share it with you, Miss Gus.”

  “What? That you’re tryin’ a land-swap deal with the supervisor, Charley, and the forest service? What’s happy about that?”

  Val hid her smile. She saw one corner of Griff’s mouth crook upward as if to silently challenge Downing, who looked unhappy over Gus’s response. Val tucked her hands in her lap and sat back to enjoy the fencing between the two valley titans. Her grandmother might be small and in her mid-eighties, but she was a stalwart giant everyone respected. Except for Downing, of course, who thought he ran everything. His millions in the trucking business had turned him into a power-hungry, selfish human being.

  Struggling to maintain his lightness, Curt laughed and shrugged. “Well, when it goes through, I’ll be your neighbor Miss Gus. I wanted to celebrate the good news with you.”

  “Wait a minute,” Griff interjected, straightening, hands tense on his thighs, “a land-swap deal like that can take years and even then, it’s not guaranteed. There has to be public input and if there are objections, the trade can disappear off the table.”

  “I know that!” Downing snarled and glared over at the wrangler. “And here I was hoping you weren’t anything like your brother.”

  “Maybe Griff’s a little nicer on the outside,” Gus said, “has a bit more polish than Slade, but he’s still a McPherson.”