The Wrangler

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Come this way,” Griff murmured near her ear.

  Val followed him. Near the punch table, they stood and watched Gus out on the dance floor. The violins were twanging, the accordion bleating and drums thundering as the square dance caller, a cowboy in his late sixties, bellowed out the next move. Val took comfort in having Griff near her. She could feel the heat from his body. Maybe it was her imagination. It didn’t matter, Griff made her feel safe and secure. Someday, Val wanted to tell him that.

  The square dance ended and the crowd broke into wild clapping for the perspiring dancers and the band. Gus was being led off the floor by the older man.

  “Who is that?” she asked Griff, pointing toward Gus.

  “I don’t know. But it looks like Miss Gus is having the time of her life,” Griff said, grinning.

  “This is what she needs,” Val told him. “She’s had such a rough time with my mother and then having to take over the Bar H afterward. I’m so glad to see her happy.”

  The band struck up a nice, slow tune once more.

  “May I have this dance, Miss Hunter?”

  Val felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The man’s voice was close but it wasn’t Griff’s. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled his faintly onion-laced breath. Turning, she stared up into the cold eyes of Curt Downing. He was holding out his hand, dressed in an expensive black cowboy suit. His blond-red hair was slicked down. He was looking at her the way a predator studied his next meal. Without thinking, Val automatically took a step away and moved against Griff. “No, thank you, Mr. Downing.”

  Curt smiled genially and left his hand outstretched. “I saw you two on the dance floor earlier and became jealous. Come on, let me take you for a twirl.”

  Val was about to open her mouth when Griff stepped forward. There was no mistaking the snarl in his low voice.

  “She said no, Downing. Time to leave.”

  Glaring at Griff, Curt allowed his hand to fall to his side. “I believe Ms. Hunter can speak for herself. You’re only her wrangler.”

  Unconsciously, Griff’s hand moved into a fist. The smug look on Downing’s face reminded him of so many arrogant rich men who assumed their money was a lure for any woman. “I might only be a wrangler, Downing, but I believe I speak for her. She’s not interested in dancing with you. Go find someone else.”

  Griff stood tall, bristling, his gaze narrowed like a raptor on Downing. His entire frame was tense and Val saw his hands curve into fists. Alarmed, Val stepped forward. “He’s right. I’m not interested, Mr. Downing.”

  “Pity,” Curt murmured, bowing and giving her a smile. “You look more gorgeous than ever tonight.”

  Val could feel the anger radiating off Griff. His mouth moved into a slash, his gaze turning into a glare. “Sweet-talking me won’t do a bit of good. I’m here with Griff.” Stunned that the words had flown out of her mouth, Val stood her ground and stared back at Downing. The cowboy simply smiled and looked at her.

  “Don’t you know? McPhersons are nothing but trouble,” he said in a conspiratorial tone. “But it’s your business, Ms. Hunter. Good evening.”

  Griff watched Downing move away, head high and his gaze roving around looking for the next woman to target. He forced himself to unclench his hands. Looking over at Val, he saw she was clearly distressed. “A snake is a snake, no matter how well dressed he is.”

  Val felt a tremble move through her. It was a clear warning. She had seen rage in Downing’s eyes. He clearly hated Griff. And he didn’t want him standing in the way. Reaching out, she touched his upper arm. “He’s a rattler for sure. Thanks.” Her voice sounded breathy and uneven to her.

  Without thinking, he placed his hand at the small of her back. “Would you like to join Miss Gus over at the table in the corner?”

  Relieved and feeling the reassuring warmth of his hand on her back, Val closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes, yes I would.” Opening them, she allowed Griff to guide her effortlessly through the merry crowd. By the time they reached the table, Gus was back on the dance floor. Griff pulled out a chair and Val sat down.

  “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, leaning down so she could hear him.

  “A stiff shot of whiskey?”

  He liked her black humor. “Makes two of us. I wanted to hit him.”

  “I know you did. Bring me some fruit punch?”

  Nodding, Griff eased to his full height, turned and walked toward the refreshment stand.

  Releasing a shaky breath, Val was glad to be sitting in a far corner, her back to the wall. Downing scared her a lot. There was something sinister about him. Val could tell by her father’s body language alone when he was ready to explode into a rage. Downing was just like him, only a smoother, more dangerous version. Val wanted to relax. She’d been so happy earlier when Griff had kissed her. And their quiet talk in the parking lot showed her another facet of him. He was considerate of her boundaries. He hadn’t tried to kiss or pull her into his arms again. In all but one of the relationships she’d had, the men had been aggressive, expecting her to do their bidding. Aggressive men like Downing triggered her deeply entrenched terror.

  Looking up, she saw Griff with two cups of red fruit punch in his large hands. The glasses looked delicate against his brawn. For as powerful as he outwardly appeared, Val was lured by his inner quiet and contemplative nature. When he spoke, she knew he had fully thought out what he was going to say. Yes, Griff was like a diamond among the rocks of the other men she usually encountered. And Downing was completely wrong: McPherson men had honor, integrity and, in her eyes, they were anachronistic knights from the far past.

  The music ended just as Griff brought the cups to their table. Val gave him a soft smile, her eyes shining with warmth and thanks. He felt jittery and tense from the confrontation with Downing earlier. He wanted to plant his fist into the braggart’s leering face. He had seen no respect in Downing’s demeanor toward Val. More than likely, Curt had seen them kiss on the dance floor and wanted to kiss Val himself. That thought made Griff’s stomach tighten and rage flitted through him. Curt would never lay a hand on Val if he had anything to say about it.

  “Well, well,” Gus crowed, coming over smiling. “Good to see you two! You disappeared for a while.” The balding man pulled out a chair and Gus sat down. She smoothed her dress and said, “Val and Griff, I want you to meet another old friend of mine. This is Mortimer Pressman. Mort, meet my granddaughter Val and our wrangler and friend, Griff McPherson.”

  Mort leaned over and gently shook Val’s hand and then pressed a stronger, firmer shake in Griff’s hand. “Mighty glad to meet you.” He sat down, blotted his perspiring brow with a white handkerchief.

  “You were having a good time out there,” Val told the smiling couple.

  “Well, of course we were!” Gus beamed at her partner, who beamed back. “I’ve got a great dance partner. What more could I ask for?”

  Laughing, Val felt suddenly happy. “Another dance?” She saw Gus and Mort laugh over her response to Gus’s rhetorical question.

  Griff looked at the older couple. “Can I get you two anything to drink or eat from the refreshment table?”

  Mort nodded. “A glass of fruit punch is what we need. Right, Augusta?”

  “Right as rain. Thank you, Griff.”

  “My pleasure.” Griff stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  Gus reached out and patted Val’s hand. “I saw you two lovebirds kiss out there!”

  Heat raced up from her neck into her face. Val lowered her gaze as Gus grinned. “Well…I…”

  “Goodness, we thought it was wonderful!” And then, she peered deeply into Val’s eyes. “Didn’t you think it was wonderful?”

  Squeezing her grandmother’s hand, Val smiled. “It was a wonderful surprise.”

  “I’ll bet.”
Gus touched her curly hair and primped it back into place. “I figured it would happen tonight. Dances are for more than just dancing!”

  Val saw coyness in her expression. “Am I the last to know all of this?”

  Leaning over, Gus cupped her hand close to Val’s ear. “Griff is sweet on you. I told you that earlier. Surely you see it clearly now?”

  Val’s cheeks prickled. She straightened and stared at Gus. “I do see it.”

  Rolling her eyes, Gus gave her a warm smile. “Honey, I’m so glad you’ve finally taken off your blinders!”

  Val laughed over her grandmother’s teasing. “What else did you see that I missed?”

  Gus gave her a very satisfied smile, like a cat who had just licked all the cream from the bowl. “The look in his eyes. That wrangler is falling in love with you….”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “WELL, WHAT DO you think of our progress?” Gus asked Val. “Griff already has all six cabins under construction.”

  Val was sharing a midafternoon break with her grandmother on the front porch. The swing moved back and forth and dispelled some of the summer heat. “I can’t believe he’s done so much in such a small amount of time.” She smiled a little as she sipped her iced tea. “It was smart to buy the log cabin packages from the company over in Cheyenne.” Val knew they could be erected within a week with a good crew.

  “Griff hired four good men to help him, too.” Gus was pleased. “That young man has a lot on the ball. He’s a good manager. Funny how you don’t know a person until they get put to the test and then you find out what they’re made of.”

  “We owe a lot to Slade coming out to help get things started. Those two twins worked like a well-oiled machine.”

  “And it was very nice of Jordana to drop by to have coffee with us while the guys worked,” Gus said. “Slade is a lucky man to have married the lady doctor. She’s one smart cookie, like you.”

  Val didn’t think she was as smart as Jordana, but they had all gotten along famously over coffee and cookies that muggy afternoon. “I hope she comes back often for visits. I love her dressage stories.”

  “The McPhersons are back! I remember when their parents died, it was as if a light went out in this valley. Now, both brothers are home and they’re renewing their ties with each other. Nothing but good is going to come of it.”

  From where they sat on the porch, Val couldn’t see the six cabins. Gus had decided to build them near their property line to parallel the banks of Long Lake. It was a perfect place to fish. “I have to admit, Griff is surprising me.” It was more than that but Val remained silent about the rest. Since that kiss the night of the Fourth of July dance at the armory, her dreams had turned torrid and provocative. Daily, Val wondered what kind of lover Griff would be.

  “Griff is a pleasant surprise.” Gus pulled the wedge of lemon off the tall glass, squeezed the juice out of it and plunked the rind into her iced tea. Giving her granddaughter a steady look, she said, “I know you’re liking him more and more.”

  Val grew uncomfortable under her grandmother’s intent stare. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t have a great track record in relationships, Gus. As you know, only one worked.”

  “Most folks fail a number of times before the right gent comes along.”

  “I’m afraid to get involved again, if you want the truth.”

  Giving her a wry look, Gus smiled a little. “Well, I’d rather have you cautious than jumping into a relationship every other week.”

  A lopsided grin pulled at Val’s mouth. “You’re right, I’m very cautious. I just need time, I guess.”

  “There’s a lot going on around here.” Gus held up her fingers. “We’ve got cabins goin’ up, our heifers are back and all are pregnant by Diablo. We’re remodeling the barn and installing new horse stalls. I think that’s enough for one summer’s work, don’t you?”

  “I do.” Gus usually slept in until about seven in the morning. By that time, Val and Griff were working out in the field. They came in for lunch and only when darkness forced them indoors in the evening hours did they get dinner. Gus made sure there was always a substantial, nutritious meal waiting for them, too. Val fiercely loved her grandmother for her unflagging support. “I’m feeling hopeful. This place was so broken down. Now, months later, it’s like the mythical phoenix bird rising from the ashes and reinventing itself. I’ve enjoyed working on the brochure for our cabins. The web designer in Jackson Hole has the website up and running. We’re getting a lot of reservations coming in already.” Val couldn’t help but be impressed. “It’s like a dream, Gus. I’d never have thought of fishing cabins as an income source.”

  “Honey, that’s why many minds are better than one. Griff has brought a lot of new and innovative ideas to the Bar H. He’s more than a wrangler. And you can see his business background is really helping us thrive.”

  “It is.” Val sat rocking and thinking about Griff. There was nothing to dislike about him. Oh, he had his moments, but who didn’t? He was a patient person with inborn sensitivity. And yet, when it came to strength and endurance, he bested most of the workers hired to construct the cabins. He was honest, sometimes painfully so, and Val found that refreshing. So many men had lied to her in the past and told her what she wanted to hear in order to get her into their bed. Reminding herself that Griff wasn’t like them, Val felt a keen need to continue discovering him as a person.

  “Tomorrow, all the appliances and furniture are going to be delivered,” Gus said.

  “They start arriving at ten,” Val agreed. “I’m really excited about it. The painting is done, the electric and plumbing fixtures are in. They’re really beautiful cabins, Gus.”

  Hearing the pride and excitement in her voice, Gus smiled fondly over at her. “I want to leave this life with the peace of knowing the Bar H is not only going to live, but prosper with you at its helm.”

  Touching her grandmother’s wrinkled hand, Val patted it gently. “Thanks, Gus. You’ve done so much for me…for this ranch.” She knew the sacrifices Gus had made to ensure she’d have a birthright that would continue.

  “I’m excited too, Val. It’s all coming together.”

  * * *

  ZACH MASON WAS AT CURT DOWNING’S ranch mucking out horse stalls when someone he didn’t know walked into the airy barn. Horses nickered back and forth at the huge endurance-racing facility. Straightening, Zach pushed his straight brown hair off his sweaty brow. Who was this dude? Not recognizing him, Zach called out, “Can I help you?”

  “Yeah, you Mason?”

  Zach looked at the thin, sharp-faced man who wore a red baseball cap, a short-sleeved shirt, jeans and biker’s boots. It was the look on his face that made Zach suspicious. But then, he’d seen this type of dude around here off and on. “Yeah, I am. Who are you?” he hurled back, disliking the man’s unblinking stare.

  “I got a job for you and you don’t need to know any more than that,” he said in a low, growling voice. “It pays well. You always need cash, don’t you?”

  Frowning, Zach sized up the man. It was true, he spent every nickel he had on drugs. He’d been arrested three times for possession by the sheriff’s department. Such was his need for the drug. And right now, if he didn’t have this job, he’d be penniless. His sister Regan refused to loan him any more money because he never paid her back. “Yeah, I can use some cash. What’s up?”

  Looking down the aisle to make sure no one was around, the man said, “No names. I got five thousand dollars here.” He patted his pocket. “If you want to do something for me…”

  That was a lot of money. Zach frowned. “Then…how did you find me?”

  There was frustration dripping from his voice. “Because word’s around town you do things on the side when they need to get done.”

/>   “Yeah, that’s right. I don’t care if it’s legal or not.” The dude probably was aware he had a rap sheet. Everyone in town knew about his drug habit.

  “I need someone to set fire to some cabins. It’s easy and out of the way. I’ll supply the gasoline. All you have to do is take the fuel to the cabins, light the fire and get the hell out of there. I’ll give you half the money up front.” He pulled the wad of bills out of his pocket. “And the other half after you’re done. Only, we won’t meet here at Downing’s place. He has no idea I’m here and I don’t want him to know. I’ll give you a piece of paper with a map of the road and the time we’ll meet.”

  “Sounds good.” Zach didn’t want his boss to know about his illegal activities. He needed to keep this job. Five thousand dollars would keep him in marijuana for some time. He could also pay the rent on his room in town. Regan had kicked him out of her apartment, disgusted with his need to stay high on grass all the time.

  Grunting, the man shoved half the hundred-dollar bills into Zach’s hand. He then pulled two pieces of paper from his pocket. “The first is where the cabins are located. I want you to drive in on the forest service road. They’re located across from a locked fence. Drive up to the gate tonight at three a.m. There will be a pair of wire cutters to cut the barbed wire and you’ll see the six cans of gas nearby. Start with the cabin at the other end of the line and work your way toward the gate. Once they’re all on fire, get out of there. I doubt anyone will see them go up, but just in case they do, don’t get caught hanging around.”

  Zach shoved the money into his pocket. He studied the map. “This is the Bar H. I heard they were building cabins out there in town the other day.”

  “There’s six of ’em. They aren’t locked, either. They’re wide open. I went out there the other night and checked. Walk into each cabin with a can of gas, spread it around, then light it. Close the door and go to the next one. Got it?” He drilled Zach with a steely glare.