by R. C. Ryan
Cheyenne’s gaze darted from father to son and back again, and she waited for the explosion.
Instead, the older man surprised her by lowering his head, then lifting it to reveal a wide grin. “Damned if you aren’t a chip off the old block.”
He picked up a platter of roast beef and heaped meat and potatoes on his plate before passing it to Josh, who did the same before passing it to Jake. As the platter made its way around the table, Cheyenne listened to the conversation veer to the weather, and then to the barn roof that needed patching, and then to Josh’s favorite mare favoring her left front hoof.
“I’ll check her out in the morning,” Jake said before helping himself to a forkful of potatoes and gravy.
“Good. Brand and I started her on a liniment, but I’d feel better if you gave your professional opinion.”
“Where is Brand?” Big Jim asked.
“Heading back up to the herd.” Josh glanced at his father. “He figures he’ll be gone at least a week, unless the snow melts sooner.”
Quinn leaned close to Cheyenne to whisper, “Brand’s been with us for years. I don’t think there’s anything he can’t do. Doctor sick cattle. Fix a broken window or a broken fuel line. He spends most of his time up in the hills with the cattle, living in the bunkhouse, but if there’s anything that goes wrong here at the ranch, Brand is the one we call on.”
“Sort of a combination of Micah, Wes Mason, and old Doc Hunger?”
At her words Quinn chuckled. “I never thought of him that way, but I’d say that pretty much describes Brand Hudson.”
“Temperature’s supposed to climb into the forties tomorrow,” Big Jim muttered.
“And into the fifties by the end of the week,” Phoebe remarked as she passed around the basket of biscuits.
She and Ela finished serving the last of the dishes before joining the family at the table.
“That ought to start the snow melting,” Jake said with a sigh.
“Sounds like all those years spent away from Wyoming turned you into a softie,” Josh teased.
“You bet. You wouldn’t believe how much sooner spring and summer come in the East and Midwest. Their trees are already in bloom when we’re still shoveling tons of snow.”
“But they don’t have that to brag about.” Josh pointed to the window and the glorious view of the Tetons, their snow-covered peaks sparkling in the last rays of the daylight.
“That’s true.” Jake gave a long, deep sigh. “I can’t believe how much I missed seeing all this.”
“And now you’re home for good.” Cole reached over and clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“That’s right. You’re stuck with me now.”
Cole flashed his son the famous Conway smile. “A burden, but I’ll just have to bear it.”
That had everyone around the table laughing.
Cheyenne sat back, letting the sound wash over her.
There had been a time when she and her brother and father had enjoyed just this sort of easy, joyful relationship. There’d been so much to share. Not only their love of one another but also the sheer pleasure they took in working side by side, doing the thousand and one chores required to keep the ranch operating. They’d shared a mutual love of nature, and felt a real thrill at the beauty of the countryside.
Until this moment, she hadn’t realized just how much she’d been missing this easy camaraderie.
“What do you think, Cheyenne?”
Hearing her name, she looked up in confusion. “Sorry. I was distracted.”
Quinn was quick to come to her aid. “That’s easy to do with this noisy bunch. Big Jim asked if you could remember a spring with this much snow.”
“Oh.” She flushed when she realized she had everyone’s attention focused on her. “We got fooled by that warm spell, and took a herd up to the hills. They’re still up there with most of the wranglers forced up into the hills to tend them.”
“I’m glad we’re not the only ones who got fooled by this weather, even though we ought to know better by now.” Big Jim sat back. “I’ll be glad when spring decides to stay.”
“Amen to that.” Cole set aside his napkin. “That was a fine meal, Phoebe.”
“Thanks. Ela made a couple of johnnycakes. Anybody ready for dessert?”
At the murmured comments that followed her question Quinn turned to Cheyenne. “Johnnycake is the Conway family’s favorite dessert. Ever have it?”
She shook her head.
“Then you’re in for a treat,” Josh announced. “Ela’s been making this since we were kids.”
“She’s been making it since I was a kid,” Cole said with a laugh.
“She’s been here that long?” Cheyenne arched a brow.
“She came here when my Clementine died.” Big Jim winked at his son. “Cole here was just a baby.”
“And whenever I wanted that boy to eat his supper,” the old woman said with a twinkle in her eyes, “I just promised to bake him johnnycake and he cleaned his plate.”
“Which is a roundabout way of saying that all this”—Cole patted his middle—“is Ela’s fault. Instead of urging me to clean my plate, she should have told me to always leave a little something for tomorrow.”
That had everyone laughing as Phoebe began passing around slices of a moist yellow cake, the consistency of coffee cake, drizzled with a white frosting glaze and sprinkled with crushed peanuts.
Cheyenne took a taste and glanced over at Ela. “Oh, this is wonderful. I remember my mother making this every Christmas. But she never left the recipe.”
The old woman was beaming. “I’ll see that you get it.”
“Thank you.” As she continued eating the cake, she was humming to herself.
The sound had Quinn grinning from ear to ear.
“What’s that?” Big Jim glanced around the table.
“The sound of a happy guest,” Quinn said with a grin.
Cheyenne glanced over and felt her cheeks grow hot.
When the others moved on to other topics of conversation she turned to Quinn. “Was I humming loudly?”
He shook his head. “You were very discreet. But obviously happy. Would you care for another slice?”
“No, thanks.” She stared at the tabletop. “Next time I hum, give me a nudge.”
“And stop the music? Not a chance.”
She looked over, intending to argue. Then, seeing his smile, she stopped herself. It was amazing how everything, even anger and embarrassment, dissolved beneath that infectious grin of his.
Phoebe filled a tray with cups. “Anyone for coffee or beer in the great room?”
The men were already pushing away from the table.
Ela yawned behind her hand. “I’m going to my room.”
As she walked away Quinn leaned close to whisper to Cheyenne, “She does this every night. But nobody’s fooled by it. She’s not going to sleep. She’s going to curl up with her handwork and sip a tall glass of whiskey or two. She’s done that for as long as I’ve known her.”
“Your family doesn’t mind?”
“It’s her life. Her ritual. Why should we mind?”
Cheyenne watched the old woman leave. “I thought the artwork on these cushions looked familiar. My mother had a blanket that had belonged to her grandmother, and some of the symbols are the same. Is all of this Ela’s work?”
Quinn nodded. “According to Phoebe, it’s practically a lost art. And though I’ve never been in her rooms, I’ve heard that the place is filled with her handwork. She gives it all away to her Arapaho women friends.”
Cheyenne smiled. “That’s sweet.”
Quinn shrugged. “Whatever makes her happy. Come on. Let’s join the family.”
Family.
The word sent a tiny shiver along Cheyenne’s spine. It was, she realized, something she’d been missing for such a long time.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The family room reminded Cheyenne of a ski resort owned by a friend of her family
. Floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides of the room, offering views of the magnificent snow-covered mountains. A soaring fireplace made of natural stone dominated the other wall. On the raised hearth a log blazed. Comfortable sofas were arranged around the fire for easy conversation.
On a huge coffee table rested a tray of longnecks, while on a side table there was a coffee server and mugs.
Cheyenne helped herself to coffee, and Quinn did the same.
As they settled themselves on a sofa, Josh and Jake were having a heated discussion.
“So, what happened to that big, mysterious job you’d been offered?”
At that Cole and Big Jim stopped talking and turned to listen.
“I decided that I’d been away from home too long. Though it was tempting, I just couldn’t accept.”
Cole set aside his beer. “How come I never heard about this job offer?”
Jake winked at Josh. “I guess it slipped my mind.”
“What was the offer?” Big Jim, like his son, set aside his beer and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I was approached by a Kentucky racehorse breeder, on the recommendation of one of my professors. He was looking for someone to join his staff and work with his longtime vet, who was thinking about retiring. He came up to Michigan to meet with me, and offered to pay all my expenses if I’d spend some time at his Kentucky farm to see if I’d be interested in the job.”
“Were you?” Cole’s voice was more a challenge than a question.
“His persistence certainly caught my attention.” Jake’s smile grew at the recollection. “The first time I refused, he fattened the offer by fifty thousand.”
That had Quinn and Josh whistling in appreciation.
“The second time I refused his offer, he said he would make me a partner in his entire operation.”
Big Jim snorted. “That’s fine if his farm is showing a profit. Of course, he could be inviting you to share a big, fat loss.”
Jake’s smile remained in place. He was, Cheyenne thought as she watched and listened, enjoying this give-and-take with his family.
Jake’s grandfather, father, and brothers were watching and listening like hawks watching a tasty rabbit. Except, Cheyenne thought, this rabbit was merely leading them on a merry chase, and enjoying every minute of it.
Jake chuckled. “I checked out his ranch. It’s one of the most successful in Kentucky. He breeds nothing but winners. And, he told me, he’s accustomed to getting what he wants, no matter the cost.”
“And he wanted you.” Cole studied his youngest son with new respect. “So, what did he finally offer you?”
Jake took a long swig of beer. “The moon.”
“So.” Cole casually picked up his longneck. “What’re you doing here, Son?”
“Living the life I want. I’m not interested in doctoring Thoroughbreds, Pa. I’m a sucker for cattle. My job of choice is ranching. My life is here.”
Cole took a long drink before setting aside his bottle and crossing to his son.
“I’m glad you came to your senses.” His voice was cool enough, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.
“That’s the Kentucky farmer’s loss,” Big Jim said with a grin. “And our gain.”
Phoebe had watched this exchange in silence, but the smile on her face revealed how happy she was at the outcome.
After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she retreated to a big, comfortable chair by the fire and propped her feet on a footstool.
“That was a fine meal,” Cole remarked.
“Thanks.” She turned to Cheyenne, gently drawing her into the conversation. “Do you have help at your ranch?”
“Do you mean with the ranch chores or in the house?”
“Both,” Phoebe said softly. “Quinn told us that you lost both a brother and a father within the past two years. I can’t imagine that you can handle that spread by yourself.”
“I couldn’t do it without good people to help. Wes Mason is my foreman, and he’s been with us since I was a kid.”
“I know Wes,” Cole said. “He’s worked for us a time or two. A good man.”
Cheyenne nodded. “And Micah Horn. He started out as a wrangler with my dad when I was little, and now he’s my chief cook and bottle-washer. I don’t know what I’d do without Micah.”
Big Jim gave a nod of recognition. “Another good man. Micah used to give us a hand at roundup.”
“That’s what he told me,” Quinn put in.
“There was some kind of accident one winter that left him lame.” Big Jim glanced at Cheyenne for confirmation.
“A truck got stuck up in the hills. The rancher he was working for asked Micah and another wrangler to push, while he stayed behind the wheel. The truck swerved, Micah lost his footing, and the truck ended up crushing one of his legs. By the time they airlifted him to the hospital, the damage was pretty severe. He walks with a cane, and can drive some, but every year it gets harder for him to do much else. He even had to give up riding his favorite horse a couple of years ago.”
“He makes a damn fine chili,” Quinn muttered. Seeing Phoebe’s arch look, he added, “Not as good as yours, mind you. But it runs a close second.”
“You just want to make sure I don’t put arsenic in your soup tomorrow,” Phoebe said with a laugh.
“You bet. I’m no fool,” Quinn added.
That brought a round of laughter from all of them.
“That reminds me”—Cole was still laughing—“of the time you three decided you weren’t going to eat your sandwiches unless Phoebe cut off the crusts of your bread.”
Big Jim was quick to add, “That was right after a visit to town and lunch in that fancy restaurant.”
“A restaurant,” Cole said, “that lasted about a month before going broke. Whoever heard of cowboys wanting quiche for breakfast when they can have steak and potatoes for half the price at Flora’s Diner?”
Cheyenne, caught up in the laughter, turned to Phoebe. “So, did you cut off the crusts?”
“Are you kidding?” Phoebe shook her head. “Can you imagine spending the rest of my life throwing away all that bread?”
Quinn looked at his brothers for confirmation. “She conned us, as usual.”
“Yeah,” Josh joined in. “Phoebe told us that eating bread crusts made us smarter and stronger.”
“Well? Did I lie?” Phoebe swept a hand to indicate the three handsome men. “Those bread crusts produced giants. Though I’m not so sure about the brainpower,” she added with a straight face.
That had everyone laughing louder.
Phoebe turned to Cheyenne. “I bet your mother told you to eat your crusts so your hair would be curly.”
“And it would be if you didn’t use all that stuff to make it straight,” Quinn remarked.
Though the others laughed, Cheyenne was aware that they’d paused for a moment after his remark, as if to wonder just how he would know such a personal thing about her.
To make matters worse, he tugged on a strand of her hair and winked.
She felt the quick, sexual jolt all the way to her toes and hoped the others wouldn’t notice her face flaming.
As the conversation continued swirling around, Cheyenne studied the Conway family, teasing, scolding, arguing, and laughing together.
She’d better be careful. It would be very easy to let herself get so caught up by Quinn Conway and his big, noisy family that she might never want to go back to her own ranch.
Just when she’d begun to accept the emptiness, the loneliness, of life without her father and brother as her new reality, they had to come along to remind her of all that had been taken from her.
Beside her, Quinn glanced at her before asking, “Getting tired?”
“I… Yes.” She quickly covered her lapse. “I think I should probably go up to bed now.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
“That isn’t necessary.”
When she stood, he reached for her empty cup and placed it on
the side table.
To everyone in the room she called, “I’ll say good night, now. Thank you again for your kind hospitality.”
As they said their good nights, Cheyenne climbed the stairs, aware of Quinn trailing behind her.
At her door she paused. “I didn’t want you to feel that you had to leave your family. You’ve only just returned. I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”
“And a lifetime to do it.” His smile eased her worries. “But this is your first night in my home, and I’d like it to be a comfortable one.”
“I love your family. They’ve made me feel so welcome.”
“It’s a gift they have. All my life my friends have felt comfortable here.”
She couldn’t help teasing. “I’m sure you’ve brought a lot of women home unannounced through the years.”
He chuckled. “Good try.” He shot her that look that always reminded her of his wolves. Direct. Piercing. “Actually, you’re the first.”
“Well.” Her throat was suddenly dry as dust and she was forced to swallow. “Thank you. And good night.”
“Good night, Cheyenne.”
Without warning he dipped his head and brushed her lips with his. It was the merest touch of mouth to mouth, and yet she felt the heat shiver along her spine.
She drew back to stare up into his eyes, only to find him studying her carefully.
“This is a first. I’ve never kissed a woman good night in my own home before.”
“I seem to be all sorts of firsts for you.”
“Yeah.” His smile was quick and disarming. “Maybe I just wanted to show you that I could be a good kisser even without the effects of whiskey.” Seeing the color that rushed to her cheeks, he said, “Sorry. Is that subject taboo?”
Her chin came up defiantly. “The fact that I got drunk? Or the fact that I called you a good kisser?”
“You only got drunk because I forced it on you to deaden the pain of that shoulder.”
“As I recall, you only kissed me because I forced myself on you.”
“Is that what you think?” Again that smile, and this time it took deadly aim at her heart.
Without warning his arms were around her, drawing her close. His mouth covered hers in a kiss that had her fingers curling into the front of his shirt and holding on as though her life depended on it.
