Her Stubborn Cowboy

by Patricia Johns

  “No... I don’t know.” Andy stuck his hat back onto his head. “It was the wedding—it changed her. All that pressure and stress. Everything costs, and there were all those expectations from both sides of the family, and—”

  “You could have eloped,” Chet said.

  “No.” Andy shook his head. “I know you think I’m just some flake, but that part matters to me. If I’m getting married, it’s going to be in a church with all of our extended family to see it.”

  That took Chet by surprise. He’d never suspected that his brother felt so deeply about a wedding. Andy was the kind of man who liked flash and fun, not solemnity and church. And if family mattered that much to him, he certainly hoped it would factor in when it came to selling his pasture.

  “And I’m broke.” The last words came out low and flat.

  There it was. He knew there had to be something more to this. Andy was good at making money, but he was also pretty good at spending it.

  “I could have lent you some money,” Chet said.

  “No,” Andy said. “I’m not ever going to owe you money.”

  Chet laughed softly. He’d expected that. He and Andy had never had an easy relationship, and he wasn’t keen to lend his brother money, either. Cash had a way of making even the strongest family bonds awkward, and he wasn’t sure his relationship with his brother could survive that.

  “Is this why you want to sell the land?” Chet asked. “You need the cash?”

  Andy was silent for a moment, then asked, “Do you know why dad gave you the house and me the pasture?”

  Chet had never really considered the question too seriously before. He’d always assumed his father would set things up so he could run the place—it was a silent understanding between them that went back as far as those quiet mornings in the field together.

  “I guess because I was the one who’d be running it,” Chet said. “Makes sense.”

  “No. Because Dad didn’t think I could be trusted to run the family business.”

  Chet regarded his brother in silence. Was there truth to that? He and Andy had both played their roles as they grew up—Chet learned the ranch and Andy fooled around. If Andy had wanted to inherit the ranch, why not pay a little more attention to the land earlier? Maybe their father would have seen some promise in him.

  “Mom believed in me,” Andy said. “She used to tell me that a ranch needed brawn and brains and sometimes they came in different packages. I think she thought of herself as the brains behind the ranch.”

  Chet smiled wistfully, remembering their mother. She’d been a countrywoman through and through, but she’d also been a reader. It was his mother who’d taught him to love books. They still had a few boxes of her books in the basement. His father had been the law around the ranch, showing them the right way to do things, and their mother had been the free spirit, finding creative ways to make things work. Maybe Andy had seen some of their mother in Ida, after all. The thought softened him.

  “I miss Mom, too,” he said quietly. “I think Dad left it to us like this because he wanted us to work together.”

  “Pipe dream there,” Andy said with a short laugh.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Chet agreed. “But, Andy, I love this land. I can’t just pick up and move somewhere else and have it be the same. I’ve got blood and sweat invested here.”

  “And what about my part of the inheritance?” Andy asked. “So I just walk away and let you ranch? What do I get out of this? Dad left me a hunk of land he never meant for me to touch. It pretty much amounts to cutting me out of the will.”

  “Let me buy you out,” Chet said. “You know I can’t match the offer you have on the table. I went to the bank to see what kind of loan I could get, and it’s enough to pay you what the land was worth before that developer came on the scene.”

  Andy didn’t answer for a second, and when he did, his voice was quiet. “I’ll think about it, but you have to keep in mind that if I take the developer’s offer, that’s enough money to buy my own car dealership in Billings. I could own it. I wouldn’t be beholden to anyone, and I’d be able to provide for me and—”

  “Ida,” Chet finished for him.

  “—whomever I end up married to.”

  “So either I have the ranch or you have the dealership,” Chet said, bringing it back to the concrete once more.

  “Something like that.”

  And there they were, backed against the wall again, with Andy holding all the power. Could he blame him for wanting to get all the money he could out of that land? It wasn’t as if Andy had no plans for the cash—he wanted to buy his own business. That was the kind of dream that Chet could understand. For once, they seemed to be thinking the same way, except they couldn’t both have their dreams at the same time.

  “You should buy Mackenzie’s land,” Andy said after a moment. “Then I can sell mine. We’ll both get what we want.”

  Mackenzie had asked him why he hadn’t offered to buy her land the night before... Why was Andy suddenly bringing this up?

  “Did you say anything about that to Mack?” he asked with a frown.

  “And when exactly would I have had the chance with you standing guard?” his brother asked, then shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m saying it to you.”

  “Because she asked me why I hadn’t offered to buy her out yet,” Chet said.

  “When?” Andy asked.

  “Recently.” He wasn’t willing to talk about last night. Whatever else might happen, it belonged between him and Mack.

  “And why haven’t you offered to buy her out?” Andy asked. “It makes sense.”

  “When she first arrived, she told me she wanted to run the place,” Chet said, although he knew that she wasn’t as solid on that decision anymore. He was the one hoping she would stick it out.

  “If she asked you about it, it’s on her mind,” his brother pointed out. “Besides, she’s no ranching woman. She’ll get tired of it soon enough. You’d better offer her a fair price before that developer does.”

  Chet glanced toward the barn where he’d pulled her close the night before. He felt heat rise in his neck as he remembered the sensation of her lips against his, and he looked quickly away. Her father had found her a good business opportunity in Billings, too, and she hadn’t exactly turned him down flat. He was afraid right now that his brother was right. Pragmatically speaking, if he wanted to keep his ranch so badly, he should offer to buy out Mackenzie. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  Chet pushed himself off the fence. He needed to think this through on his own, get a grip on all these slippery loose ends. He wanted a strong cup of coffee and some silence. He started back toward the house, and his brother followed a half step behind. He was angry right now, because he hated having Andy hold this much control over his future, and he hated that Andy’s idea sounded the most logical at the moment. If Mack wasn’t really going to stay anyway, buying her land would give him the much-needed pasture.

  When he’d kissed her, he’d wanted more from her than just friendship, but in the light of day, that didn’t seem possible. Mack deserved better than to be toyed with, and if he had no serious intention of following through with his feelings, then he was obligated to keep those feelings to himself. So why couldn’t he bring himself to offer to buy her land?

  “I saw that the fair is back in town,” Andy said.

  Chet drew in a breath, attempting to clear out that heavy feeling inside him. It didn’t work.

  “Yeah, I noticed that.” That fair was the place where teenagers got to break loose a little bit every summer. Chet had never spent a lot of time there, though. He’d been more concerned with the ranch. And truthfully, he’d never had a girl at the right time to take there. It only made him feel more alone walking solo among the couples.

  “We should go,” Andy said. “Like old times.”

  “What old times?” Chet replied with a laugh. “You went. I didn’t go too often.”

  “We
ll, you should have. Make up for lost time.” Andy grinned. “Get Mack to come, too. There’s been too much tension around here lately.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Chet asked skeptically.

  “We’re all adults.”

  It had been ten years. All these stupid jealousies and this posturing needed to end. A lot of time had passed, and they were no longer hormonal teenagers. Maybe Andy was right. Besides, right now it looked as though Chet was the bigger threat to Mackenzie’s peace of mind.

  “Sure, I’ll ask her if she’s interested,” Chet said. “Which reminds me, I need to head over there and help her out with the chores she can’t do on her own yet.”

  “She has you doing her work, too?” Andy shook his head. “She still has you around her little finger?”

  Chet suppressed a wince. How much had Andy guessed about his feelings for Mackenzie back then? He’d been careful to hide them, but then, Andy was always a little more perceptive behind that dumb grin than he let on.

  “I’m being neighborly,” he replied shortly.

  Andy arched an eyebrow.

  “Worried about me?” Chet joked, enjoying his brother’s momentary discomfort. It wasn’t often that he had the upper hand when it came to a woman, even if he was the only one who knew about it.

  Andy rolled his eyes and ambled off toward the house without another word, but Chet was left with that uncomfortable knot in his gut.

  It was degrading, mostly. He’d been pining for his younger brother’s girl, and no man took pride in that. The only comfort he’d had was in thinking that he’d at least been able to keep that little shameful fact to himself.

  “Blast it,” he muttered, and he set his hat back on his head and headed toward Mackenzie’s land. That kiss wasn’t going to go anywhere, and the best thing he could do was to put it behind them. He’d have to face her sooner or later, and he might as well start now.

  * * *

  MACKENZIE EYED THE bales of hay that sat just inside the back door of the barn. Dust motes hung in the slanting morning sunlight, and the smell of hay filled her with memories. As a teenager, the hay bales had been an ideal place to sit and think. She used to sit out here in a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a tank top and stare out through the open sliding door at the property. Mackenzie glanced behind her. The winding dirt road was the same, as were the rolling plains that stretched out toward the horizon, but it was different now. Now the scene represented responsibility and work. This was no vacation.

  “What was Granny thinking?” she asked herself aloud.

  There had to be better family members to leave the land to—her father being the most obvious, or one of her uncles or aunts. There had to be someone who could have been trusted not to sell out. If her grandmother had cared about this land at all, why would she leave it to the one granddaughter who had no clue?

  Mackenzie remembered one day the summer that her parents got divorced when a calf had died, and Mackenzie hadn’t taken it well. She’d sat down and cried on the ground next to the still body. It wasn’t only the calf. She’d wept for everything that she’d lost—her parents’ marriage, her security, her sense of certainty that all was right with the world—and for the little calf who hadn’t been strong enough to make it.

  “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away,” Granny had murmured softly.

  “That doesn’t help, Granny!” Mackenzie had snapped.

  Granny then squatted down next to her on the ground and said the words that would bring Mackenzie through her parents’ divorce and all the other disappointments that life would throw at her.

  “There’s a lot of giving and a lot of taking,” Granny said thoughtfully. “Your parents—your dad, mainly—took something away from you that you needed, but you have to find a way to participate still.”

  “In my parents’ divorce?” she asked incredulously.

  “Maybe not the actual divorce, but you’d better find a way to participate in putting together that new life you’ll all be living. You’d better get in there and start making your voice heard. This is going to be your new life, too.”

  Mackenzie suspected that that participation was what Granny had given her in this ranch—because ranches didn’t run on thoughts and theories. They ran on sweat and blisters—she was quickly finding that out—and as she looked out over that winding dirt road and the fields that stretched out beyond, she saw not only work and responsibility, but a demand. The land and the livestock required something more of her—her physical and mental participation in the running of this ranch.

  If she was going to keep this place, she was going to need to hire some workers, buy more cattle and start making a profit. There was no way around it. She was either all in or she had to sell.

  The sound of footsteps drew her attention just as Chet came around the corner. He pulled his hat off, ran a hand through his hair, then dropped the hat back in place with a slow smile.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Good morning.” She smiled hesitantly. This was the first time she’d seen him since that kiss, and she wasn’t sure what to expect. His gray eyes moved away from her to the bales of hay and her pickup truck with the tailgate down, and without another word, he stepped forward, grabbed a bale by the twine and hoisted it up.

  Chet was a strong man—Mackenzie couldn’t lift a bale on her own—and he walked it over to the truck. A vein popped on his forearm as he tossed the bale into the bed of the truck. Then he turned back to the barn and heaved up another bale of hay. This job sure was easier with some brawn around, she had to admit.

  “Thanks,” she said as he lobbed a second one beside the first, then brushed his hands off on his jeans.

  “No problem.” He hooked a thumb toward the truck. “Filling the feeder in the pasture?”

  There was a large iron feeder in the smaller pasture, since the smaller enclosure didn’t always have enough space to properly feed the livestock on grass alone.

  “I seem to remember doing that when I visited here.” She suddenly had a sense of misgiving.

  “No, it’s a good call.” He put a hand on the hood of the pickup. “Need a hand?”

  “Yeah.” She glanced at him, feeling a blush rise in her cheeks. “Thanks.”

  She was thinking of their kiss in spite of her best efforts. It irritated her that Chet had been so memorable. If only he’d been sloppy or awkward—easier to brush off as a bad idea—but he hadn’t been.

  Mackenzie got into the driver’s seat and Chet hopped in next to her. She stole a look at him as she turned the key—his stubble softening the hard lines of his chin. She didn’t say anything more as they lurched forward and headed down the dusty road.

  “Are we going to talk about this?” Chet asked after a moment of silence.

  Mackenzie stepped on the gas and inwardly grimaced. They’d have to, but she wasn’t even sure what to say. Alone last night, it had been so clear that Chet was looking out for his own ends, but with him here in the truck with her, it seemed different again.

  “I don’t have anything to say,” she admitted.

  “Okay, well—” he pulled off his hat and sat it on his knee “—I do. I’m sorry.”

  “For what part, exactly?” she asked.

  “For all of that.” He caught her eye, then gave her a tentative smile. “Look, I told you before that I’d had feelings for you when you were dating my brother, but it was more than that. I had a pretty wild crush on you. It was embarrassing. Kind of stupid.”

  Embarrassing and stupid weren’t exactly the words every woman wanted to hear.

  He pulled a hand through his hair and looked out the window. “And I guess I’d been wanting to do that for a long time.”

  The memory of his strong hand moving through the back of her hair brought a shiver. “How come you never said anything back then?” Mackenzie asked.

  “You were Andy’s girl,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Brothers don’t do that.”

  �
�Actually, a lot do.”

  “You said I was the last principled man under sixty,” he said. “I guess I was back then, too.”

  She wished she’d known then the way Chet had felt. If she’d known that Chet had been interested, it might have changed whom she’d dated. Chet had caught her attention first because of his stoic strength. He was quiet, controlled. Maybe too controlled, because she’d never suspected that he’d felt anything more than friendship for her.

  But maybe wondering about all of this was stupid, too. It didn’t change Chet’s loyalty to the family, and it certainly didn’t change the current complications. What he felt for her all those years ago didn’t much matter when they were all adults with adult responsibilities. Summers no longer seemed as if they lasted forever. And not everything was possible.

  “I guess so,” she said. “Well, it was a long time ago...”

  “Definitely. A very long time ago.”

  She shot him a glance as she turned toward the pasture, and truthfully, it didn’t feel so long ago right now looking at him, but this was the problem with the Granger boys. They’d always had a way of catching her off balance and she needed to put an end to that. It was hard to be a full participant in your life when you were always being swept off by some current.

  Mackenzie pulled to a stop and pushed open her door.

  “So that kiss was just...” She turned back. She needed the clarification on this. “That was just for old times’ sake, then?”

  He considered for a moment. “No. But I should have left it in the past.”

  Great. So he’d kissed her, remembering how he’d felt all those years ago, and she’d found herself a flustered mess for a guy who wasn’t even attracted to her once he’d had some time to think about it. Maybe the reality of a grown woman with emotional baggage and not a lot of ranching know-how was less appealing upon some careful reflection. She wouldn’t entirely blame him.

  “Okay.” She got out of the truck and slammed the door harder than necessary.

  Mack headed around the back of the truck. This was another excellent reason to keep her emotional distance from Chet Granger, and she hauled open the tailgate, fully willing to hoist that bale on her own just to vent her frustration. Chet slammed his door shut and came around beside her.