How to Wrangle a Cowboy

by Joanne Kennedy

  Ridge winced, but Brady’s political incorrectness was lost on Isaiah, so he let it pass. He and Shane moved their conversation up to the shady front porch, where glasses of fresh lemonade were magically waiting for them. Sierra was always looking out for everyone, making sure kids and cowboys ate and stayed hydrated.

  Settling into wooden rockers, the two men sat in the cool shadows of a stand of aspens that shimmered in a light breeze, their green leaves flashing silver bellies toward the sun. The happy sounds of kids at play filtered through the greenery.

  “Nice day,” Shane said.

  Ridge nodded, and a comfortable silence settled between them. Shane thought he might have gotten off easy, but after a while, Ridge cleared his throat and spoke.

  “You really stuck on working for somebody else?”

  “I’m saving for a spread of my own,” Shane said. “I’ve gotten spoiled, working for a big outfit like the Lazy Q. Some little, piddling, barely-there ranch isn’t going to do it for me.”

  Ridge punched him in the shoulder—playfully but hard enough to sting. “You calling Decker Ranch piddling?”

  “Nope. Never. This place definitely looms large in my life.” He watched Isaiah ride and remembered his own introduction to horsemanship in that very spot. “But you and Sierra are the keepers of this flame. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I’m not worried about you, big brother. I’m worried about me.” Ridge was normally cool and quiet, but today his eyes were bright with fervor for the future plans he’d mapped out. “I’ve got all the work I need and then some. If we had an operations guy to keep the books and talk to folks, I could spend more time with the horses.”

  Shane chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking. If he was really needed…

  “We could make Decker Ranch the place Bill always wanted it to be, with world-class quarter horses. Maybe a few cattle too, if you want.”

  Shane found himself weakening. He could use some of his savings to buy Bud’s cattle, if Lindsey insisted on selling the herd. The sprawling ranch house would have plenty of room for him and Cody to live without intruding on Ridge and Sierra’s privacy. And then Cody could grow up in the place where Shane himself had become a man.

  “Maybe I will.”

  As he said the words, a whoosh of relief surprised him. It was Lindsey’s job to deal with the Lazy Q, and it was her job to take care of Grace. He was only torturing himself by sticking around to watch her make bad decisions.

  He loved Grace like family, and God knew he’d loved Bud. But the truth was, he had no rights and no standing. He was an employee, nothing more. And the sooner he got away, the better.

  “Maybe the time has come,” he told his brother.

  A feminine whoop of joy rose from somewhere behind him. He turned to see Sierra at the screen door, grinning from ear to ear.

  “What’s got you all happy?” he asked her.

  “You.” Slamming the door behind her, she raced out and gave him a sisterly smack on the arm. “That’s what I’ve always wanted—you, Ridge, and Brady, working together. Everybody happy, eating at the same table.”

  Ridge gave her a sidelong glance. “Does this have something to do with that new kitchen you want?”

  Sierra fluttered her eyelashes at her husband, making Shane laugh. “Why, no, dear, but I suppose if more folks lived here we would need a new kitchen, wouldn’t we? What a good idea, sweetheart!”

  “You might be able to pull that on the kids, but I know your tricks.” Ridge hauled her into an embrace, and the two of them smiled, staring into each other’s eyes. The scene was so full of love it made Shane’s throat ache.

  If only Tara had been a better person. Or maybe he should have been different. Better. Something—he wasn’t sure what. All he knew was that Ridge and Sierra had the kind of relationship he wanted: a true partnership. Ridge had his horses and Sierra had her kids, so they didn’t do everything together. But when they combined their skills to save kids and horses, the sum of the parts was far more than anyone could have imagined. The two of them worked miracles, saved lives.

  Leaving his brother and his wife to their little love fest, Shane strolled over to where Cody and Josh were playing. Isaiah had joined them, apparently deciding that “baby stuff” wasn’t so bad after all.

  “That’s not right.” The older boy pointed to some small rocks that were enclosed in a twig fence. “You got two brown horses and a black one there, but you gotta have a yellow one for Moonpie.”

  Jeff walked past, fresh from grooming Moonpie and returning him to his stall. “Moonpie’s not yellow,” he said. “He’s golden.”

  “Well, I don’t have a gold nugget for your precious Moonpie,” Isaiah said. “So for this game, he’s yellow.”

  Shane stood back and watched the four boys wrangle over their imaginary ranch. A mourning dove cooed from a nearby tree and the late-afternoon sunshine touched their hair with light. They didn’t know it now, but all of them were golden, made precious by the love that surrounded them.

  Bill and Irene Decker had started that golden circle of light when they’d adopted Shane, Ridge, and Brady. Together, Sierra and Ridge were continuing it. If Shane joined the family business, Cody could live in that light too—the glow of a real family, with brothers and sisters and uncles and aunts, and maybe, someday, that mother he wanted.

  It would be far better for him and Cody to live here than to stay on where they weren’t wanted.

  But you are wanted. She wants you. She kissed you. She kissed you back.

  He shook the memory out of his mind. That had been a one-time thing. A mistake. She’d even agreed that it shouldn’t have happened.

  Well, sort of.

  In any case, the smart play would be to come to Decker Ranch. Let Lindsey Ward deal with her troubles on her own.

  Chapter 19

  On the way back to the Lazy Q, Shane smiled over at his son. He loved being a dad, loved building his boy the kind of childhood he’d longed for as a boy.

  “Did you have a good time?”

  Cody shrugged. “I guess.”

  Now there was a rave review. He tried again. “It seemed like you and Josh were having fun together.”

  Cody shrugged. “He’s okay.”

  These were the times Shane wished he’d had a father of his own. He didn’t have anything to model this situation on. What was the right way to ask a kid where he wanted to live? No one had ever thought to ask him. He’d simply been moved from place to place like a pawn in a poorly played chess game. A losing game, where pawns had been sacrificed without a thought.

  He remembered one kind-faced couple who’d thought they were being nice when they pretended to let him make choices. He’d seen right through them, especially when they’d gone ahead and sent him on to another home anyway.

  Maybe the best way to handle the situation was to be honest, to come straight out and tell Cody what was going on.

  “I’m thinking about moving back home.”

  Cody’s eyes widened. “Where’s home?”

  “Decker Ranch, silly. Where we just were.”

  “Where will I go?”

  The boy’s tone was so stoic, it about broke Shane’s heart. Apparently, Cody didn’t realize the two of them were a unit, unbreakable. He’d better start making that clear.

  “You go where I go, pardner. That’s how it works. So what do you think about living there, with Uncle Ridge and Aunt Sierra and Jeff?”

  “Will that Isaiah kid be there?”

  “Sometimes. Not all the time.”

  “Okay, I guess. He’s kind of bossy.”

  The kid had a talent for understatement, that was for sure. Saying Isaiah was bossy was like saying Niagara Falls had some water in it.

  “You think you could make friends at Grigsby School, where Josh goes?”

  “Maybe.” Cody looked up at his dad’s face as if gauging his mood, then smiled his most winsome smile. “If I had a puppy.”

  Shane laughed. His b
oy was smart, he’d give him that.

  “Don’t you like Haycat?”

  The boy shrugged. “She’s nice. But cats don’t fetch sticks or do tricks. I want a dog that does tricks.” He gave Shane that smile again. “My mom’s Yorkie could sit up and beg. And it shook hands.”

  The kid had great timing. Coming up, just around the bend, was Ed Brockman’s “Puppies 4 Sale” sign. Crudely lettered, crookedly placed, it looked like everything Brockman did—half-assed and careless.

  Impulsively, Shane turned into the drive. Cody’s look of pure joy mingled with disbelief was payment enough for whatever aggravation this puppy was going to cause.

  “Do I get to pick whatever one I want?” Cody asked as they knocked on the door of Brockman’s ramshackle house.

  “Long as it’s healthy. Don’t go choosing the runt just because you feel sorry for it.”

  “Okay, Dad.” Cody put his hand in Shane’s and gave him a look Shane wished he could catch in a jar, so he could look at it whenever he had doubts about his parenting skills. There was love, hero worship, and admiration, but most of all there was trust—a treasure he hoped he’d always deserve.

  “Now if it’s going to be your puppy, I want you to do the talking, okay?” Shane had noticed Cody was a little shy with adults sometimes. The puppy would be a good motivator to help him get over that problem.

  He just might be getting the hang of this parenting thing.

  The door opened a slit, letting out the blaring shout of a television announcer. Someone must be losing their hearing to watch at that volume—either Ed or his wife.

  A florid, heavyset woman peered out through the opening as the announcer broke off mid-shout.

  “Yes?” She reminded Shane of the women in the old Monty Python skits where the men would pretend to be women with fluttery, falsetto voices.

  “Hello, ma’am,” Cody said. “We’re here about the puppies.”

  “Oh.” She gave him a too-wide, too-toothy grin. “About the puppies, hm? I have lots of puppies, young man. Lots and lots of pretty puppies.”

  Cody looked a little uncertain, and Shane couldn’t blame him. Connie Brockman had always frightened him a little too.

  “We want a Yorkie puppy, ma’am,” the boy said stoutly.

  “Well, hold on, pardner.” Shane couldn’t help interrupting. “I know your mom had a Yorkie, but there were lots of breeds on the sign out there. How ’bout a rat terrier? That would be a better dog for a ranch.”

  One that’s bred to earn its keep. One that’s less likely to get stomped to death and break your heart.

  Cody shook his head so hard Shane was afraid he’d dislocate something. “No. A Yorkshire terrier. That’s what I want.”

  So that’s what a Yorkie was. He’d assumed any dog of Tara’s would be some useless, whiny purse pet, but at least it was a terrier, and was likely to have some spunk.

  “Do you have any, er, Yorkies right now?” he asked.

  “We certainly do.” She clapped her hands as if overcome with delight. At least, that’s what Shane thought, but Ed appeared so quickly afterward that he wondered if the clap was a summons.

  “Get me some Yorkies, Ed,” the woman said.

  Get me a shrubbery, thought Shane.

  Ed pushed past Shane and Cody, heading out the door.

  “Do we follow you?” Shane asked.

  “Oh, no. I’ll get the puppies. You’ll like ’em, you will. They’re so young and tender.” He turned in the doorway. “Wish you’d called in advance. Then I could’ve prepared ’em for you.”

  Cody gave Shane a doubtful look, and Shane could see why. This couple embodied all the fairy-tale clichés—a run-down house; a frightening woman with a wart on her nose who rubbed her hands together with glee while she stared, a little too intently, at Cody; and a whiskery old gent who spoke of the puppies as if they were something to eat. Add to that the odd smell of the place—was that cabbage soup mingling with the mothballs?—and you had a situation that might be scary for a little kid.

  It was a good chance for Cody to meet different kinds of people though. Shane was determined to demonstrate good manners.

  “How’ve you been, Mrs. Brockman?” he asked.

  “Oh, well enough, I suppose. Some female complaints, but you don’t want to hear about ovaries and such, now do you, young man?”

  She looked even more intently at Cody, who took a step backward.

  “No, ma’am,” the boy said.

  Shane squeezed his hand. Fortunately, the kid probably didn’t know an ovary from a gonad. Ranch life would change that soon enough, but for now he was grateful for his son’s innocence.

  The woman lowered herself onto a spindly chair and leaned toward Cody with a terrifying grin. “What are you going to do with your puppy, lovey?”

  “Um, play with it?”

  Cody sounded doubtful, as if he thought he might be expected to say he planned to roast his new puppy with onions and sage. Fortunately, Ed entered at that moment with a basket of bright-eyed pups.

  Shane nearly groaned aloud as Ed released the pups onto the floor. Not only were they small and fragile-looking; they were also filthy, and one or two were rheumy around the eyes. Another had hair matted around its hind end as if it had recently recovered from some ailment Shane didn’t want to think about.

  “There you are, young man.” Ed’s heartiness was obviously false, but at least the couple was trying. “Why don’t you pick one out while we grown-ups talk business?”

  Shane didn’t think he had any business with Ed beyond the price of a puppy, but evidently Ed thought otherwise.

  “Sit down.” He settled into an easy chair as if they had all the time in the world for a neighborly chat. “Stay awhile.”

  Since Cody was already on the floor squealing with pleasure over the antics of the pups, Shane didn’t have much choice.

  “Some changes up at the Lazy Q, eh?” Ed asked.

  Shane nodded, setting himself on the edge of a straight chair so he could make a quick getaway. He didn’t like discussing Bud’s business with Ed, who was the poorest excuse for a rancher he’d ever seen. Most of the man’s land was unfit for grazing, dotted with spiky yucca plants and noxious weeds that bled over onto the Lazy Q’s pristine pastures. He ran a few skinny cattle behind fences that were more often broken than sound. Shane suspected those busted fences were a sneaky way to get his heifers bred to Lazy Q bulls for free.

  “Heard the old man left the spread to his granddaughter,” Ed said. “She was a pretty little thing. ’Bout twelve last time I saw her.” He smacked his lips and grinned. “Legs clear to paradise, if you know what I mean. Bet she’s grown up to be a beaut.”

  Shane shuddered at the thought of Ed ogling the innocent, coltish tomboy Lindsey had been when they’d first met. Rather than respond, he pretended to be absorbed in his son’s antics with the puppies.

  “You could do worse than marry her.”

  Shane was getting tired of folks advising him to marry a woman he didn’t even like. Their most recent kiss flashed across his mind, bright and pure as the moment itself, and he admitted to himself they’d had some moments. And Ed had a point; she wasn’t just a beauty; she was something special, with an elegant figure that softened and swelled in all the right places and sleek, shining hair that spilled through his fingers like water. Cody said she looked like a princess in a storybook, but Shane knew fairy tales didn’t come true.

  “You like her?” Ed prodded.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Shane said. “She’s not sticking around for long.”

  “So she’s selling?”

  The man’s ferret-like face seemed to sharpen and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing his hands together as if praying.

  “Don’t know,” Shane lied.

  There was no way he’d share Lindsey’s plans with Ed Brockman. Give Ed a mustache to twirl and he’d have been a perfect villain for a melodrama, although those were usually handsome
men and Ed Brockman was not, by any stretch of the imagination, handsome.

  “Well, let me know if she is. I’d be interested in that plot of land out by the highway. I’ve been thinking about adding it to my holdings.”

  His holdings? Looking around the dirty kitchen with its mismatched furniture, Shane wasn’t sure Ed could afford to buy a new toaster. There was nothing wrong with honest poverty—Shane had experienced that himself—but humility was a virtue whether you were rich or poor. So was cleanliness.

  “Always wanted that piece of land.” Ed settled back on the threadbare sofa with his arms spread across the back in a lord-of-the-manor sprawl. “Got big plans for it. Big plans.”

  “The ranch can’t be subdivided,” Shane said. “It’s on the Register of Historic Places. Bud didn’t want it chopped up and developed, and he made sure it wouldn’t happen.”

  Ed sneered, as if preserving a piece of history was foolish. “Not that piece. He bought that back in the seventies, from Earl Kovitch. It’s not part of the original ranch, so it could be sold.” The sneer intensified. “Shame about the rest of it. Probably his wife’s idea, all that stuff about history. Women like to brag about that kind of thing.”

  Shane slowly clenched his right hand into a fist, then unclenched it. Grace had never bragged about a thing. She’d simply treasured the ranch’s history, and so had Bud.

  He didn’t like Ed Brockman. Didn’t like him at all. But he needed to get along with him. Ed was their nearest neighbor, after all, and he held the key to Cody’s heart in the form of those hairy little yapper dogs.

  Yorkies. They were even worse than he’d envisioned, with stubby legs that would never be able to evade the heedless hooves of a shying horse.

  “You find one you want yet, Cody?” Shane hoped a reminder of the reason they’d come would make Ed stop his weird charade.

  “I got it narrowed down to three.” Cody held up one puppy. “This one’s got a dirty bum.” He set the rejected dog in the basket. “This one shakes a lot.” The shaky pup joined Dirty Bum in the basket, where they trembled together.