How to Wrangle a Cowboy

by Joanne Kennedy

  Scooping the other three into his arms, Cody grinned. “But these guys like me a lot!” He punctuated that observation by falling over backward, delighting the rambunctious puppies. They swarmed all over him, yipping in concert to his happy laughter.

  Ed leaned forward. “You talk to little Miss Ward for me about that land, there’s a job in it for you. Once that piece of land is mine, we’ll be minting money.”

  “Sure, yeah.” Shane spoke carelessly as Cody sat up, shedding puppies along with his smile.

  “A good job.” Ed didn’t seem to notice the boy was listening. “But only if you get me a deal. I’m thinking she doesn’t know much about ranching, am I right? She’d probably believe about anything you told her. Like if you said the grazing was poor or there was water issues.”

  “I like this one, Dad.” Shane was relieved to see his son holding up the biggest, most bright-eyed puppy of the bunch. It would have been his choice too.

  “Pick of the litter,” Ed said. “Young man’s got his daddy’s eye for stock.”

  “How much?” Shane wanted to get this painful encounter over with.

  “Five hundred dollars.”

  The noise that came from Shane’s throat was an involuntary combination of a gasp and a gag.

  “Five hundred? For that?”

  He saw Cody’s face fall and rushed to fix his error.

  “I mean, he’s a good pup as Yorkies go, but he’s not going to be earning his keep.”

  “Pick of the litter,” Ed said stubbornly.

  “I could probably pick another one, Dad.” Cody reluctantly set the puppy down. “Stormy doesn’t have to be my dog.”

  “Named it already? Good boy!” Ed said.

  “I named him Storm Tempest Rainbow Lockhart,” Cody said proudly.

  Shane wanted to groan aloud. He didn’t want to disappoint his son, but he sure wished they’d had a talk about bargaining tactics before they’d come in.

  “Two hundred,” he said.

  “Three fifty,” Ed responded, a glint in his eye.

  “Three hundred. And that’s it.” Shane rose as if to go, doing his best to ignore Cody’s big, tear-filled eyes.

  “Only if you talk to Miss Ward for me. Work with me on this.”

  “I’ll talk to her.” Shane pulled out his checkbook and wrote out the amount. Once he’d put Ed’s name in and the date, he smiled to himself and wrote on the “memo” line, Stormy.

  Ed reached for the check, but his wife was faster, rising with surprising speed and snatching it from Shane’s fingers.

  Shane put on his own burst of speed, bundling Cody and his new best friend out of the house as fast as he could.

  “Don’t forget our deal,” Ed called after him. “You work with me, you’ll be glad you did.”

  Once they were in the pickup, Cody looked up at Shane with worried eyes. “You didn’t have to do that, Dad.”

  This, from the kid who’d talked about nothing but Yorkies for six weeks straight. Buying the puppy was the only way Shane could hold on to his sanity.

  “It wasn’t that much, Son.”

  The dog squirmed and licked Cody’s chin, making the boy laugh, which made Shane realize how unaccustomed he was to the sound of his own child’s laughter. Cody had seemed to take his mother’s desertion in stride, but he was more serious than a six-year-old should be.

  Shane reached down and ruffled the boy’s hair. “No, I did have to do it, Son.” He smiled ruefully at the tiny dog that held the key to his son’s joy. “I surely did.”

  Chapter 20

  Lindsey lay on her bed in a slant of sunshine, watching the sheer white curtains waft from the window like ghostly arms waving in the breeze. She’d rolled up her jeans to paint her toenails earlier, and she admired her homespun manicure as she waited for Ashley Wilde to answer the phone. Ashley was more than a friend; she was Lindsey’s partner in the Wilde/Ward Veterinary Hospital back in Charleston. She was also the owner of the fabulous shoes that had tried so hard to kill Lindsey on the way to the funeral.

  As Lindsey listened to the dull ringing of the office phone at the clinic, she pictured her friend clad in her white lab coat, a pencil holding a complicated knot of blond hair off the nape of her neck while pockets bristled with everything from rectal thermometers to doggie treats. Since Lindsey had left Rodger, there was no money for a receptionist, so she’d have to rush for the phone herself. Ashley, friend that she was, had taken their new circumstances in stride.

  She sounded harried when she answered, and her muffled “hello” was accompanied by the sound of something falling on the floor. But Lindsey could almost hear her friend’s smile when she realized who it was.

  “Lindsey! I miss you! How’s Wyoming?”

  “It’s fine. But how are you?” Without waiting for an answer, Lindsey rushed into an apology. “I feel so bad that I haven’t called. It’s been so busy here.” As she made the excuse, Lindsey tried to think what she’d been so busy with. Somehow, time flew far too fast at the Lazy Q, even when she wasn’t doing anything in particular.

  Especially when she wasn’t doing anything in particular.

  “Don’t feel bad.” Lindsey was relieved to hear the smile still glowing in her friend’s voice. “Things are going fine.”

  That was obviously a relief, but Lindsey couldn’t help feeling a quick stab of jealousy. She wanted the practice to run well without her—she needed it to run well—but she also liked to think she was important enough that it would be a challenge for Ashley to run it by herself. That’s why she’d talked another local vet into helping out. Two days a week, Vic Walters cleared his own calendar to help out at Wilde/Ward. Lindsey had promised to do the same for him once she returned.

  “I didn’t mean to be gone this long. I figured I’d go to the funeral, mend some fences, and leave.”

  “And instead you found yourself saddled with the whole ranch.” Ashley chuckled. “Saddled, get it? With the ranch?”

  She laughed, snorting slightly as she always did, and Lindsey had to laugh with her. Ashley was humor challenged, and her efforts at joking usually fell so flat, their very failure made them funny.

  “I’m not complaining,” Lindsey said. “It’s a big responsibility, but it’s also a dream come true. And I love spending time with my grandma.” She liked fighting with the foreman too, but if she told Ashley about her love/hate relationship with Shane Lockhart—well, lust/hate, anyway—she’d never hear the end of it. “It’s going to take me a while to figure things out, though. You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m more than okay.” Ashley’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Your replacement? He’s great. Well, I don’t mean he’s your replacement. I mean, I know you’re coming back. But Vic—Dr. Walters—is great. Really great.”

  Ashley giggled, and Lindsey felt a slow smile creeping across her face. Ashley never giggled. And it didn’t sound like she was talking about Dr. Walters’s professional credentials.

  Everything was going as planned. Lindsey had been guilty of a bit of matchmaking when she talked Vic Walters into spending some time with Ashley, whose skills at romance were about even with her joke-telling skills. He and Ashley were both gentle people, quiet and socially awkward, more comfortable with animals than people.

  “I was worried he wouldn’t be able to put much time in,” she said.

  “Oh, no, he’s moved some of his own clients over here, even. It’s working out great. How about you? Meet any hot-cha cowboys?”

  “Nope.” Lindsey licked her lips. “Right now’s the slow season for cowboying. The only one around is my grandpa’s foreman, and he’s a grouch. Which makes things difficult, because he runs the place and knows more about cattle than I’ll ever learn.”

  She thought of Shane’s work-roughened hand brushing her face, his dark eyes staring into hers. The heat in his gaze. The warmth of his lips. That kiss…

  “Doesn’t that worry you?” Ashley asked. “I mean, your grandmother’s quite
elderly, right? Aren’t you afraid this guy might be taking advantage of her?”

  Lindsey’s knuckles whitened on her phone. How could she be so distracted by a couple of kisses? Even Ashley, who knew nothing about the situation, could see the potential for problems with Lockhart.

  “I am worried,” she said. “That’s why I’d like to stay a little longer.”

  “Stay a lot longer,” Ashley said. “Like I said, Vic’s been great. Plus, the clients love him. You know Mrs. Emmerling?”

  “The one with the Maltese?”

  “Yeah, her. She’s been in here every day this week. First Buffy was having tummy trouble. Then she was shaking her head too much. Then Mrs. E thought she was limping, and today it’s more tummy trouble.”

  “Just between you and me, that dog’s not nearly as bad off as she makes out,” Lindsey said. “I think she’s lonely, and she likes the attention she gets from us.”

  “Well, she loves the attention she gets from Vic.” Ashley laughed. “That dog’s had all kinds of ailments this week.”

  “And you’re doing okay? You sure?”

  “I’m fine,” Ashley said. “Although I’m thinking maybe I should develop some tummy trouble too. It seems like a sure way to get a man’s attention.”

  Lindsey laughed, but then her stomach rumbled so audibly she wondered if Ashley could hear it.

  Apparently, she was having tummy trouble of her own.

  * * *

  Lindsey ran a soft cloth over the back, belly, and neck of a bright-blue horse with a pink mane and tail, then turned her attention to his delicate, slender legs. As a child, she’d loved helping her grandmother clean the blown glass horses that were “stabled” in the front parlor’s curio cabinet. As an adult, the task brought back sweet memories.

  “They’ve waited a long time for their checkup,” Grace said with a smile. “You used to pretend you were a veterinarian, and the horses were your patients, remember?”

  Seated cross-legged on the floor of the parlor, Lindsey set the blue horse down and reached for another. “You’d groom them, and I’d diagnose them with all kinds of terrible things.” She picked up a three-legged Thoroughbred and frowned. “But I was a terrible vet. I broke this one’s leg.”

  “And felt so bad about it.” Grace looked down from her chair with a fond smile. “I swear, you had to be the only six-year-old in the world who knew what laminitis was. And look at you now. Bud would be so proud.”

  Lindsey continued her work. For once in her life, she didn’t know what to say to her grandmother. She and Grace had never run out of conversation before, but that was because Lindsey had never had secrets to hide.

  She didn’t want to talk about Bud. Not now. Maybe not ever. But she couldn’t escape the topic for long. Grace was at the age where a woman lived on memories—sweet, unsullied memories of a love she believed was near legendary.

  “Careful, or you’ll cause another fracture,” Grace said.

  Lindsey realized she’d been manhandling the delicate figurine and set it down as her grandmother nudged a plate of cookies her way.

  “What’s wrong, hon? Take a cookie break and tell me about it.”

  Lindsey picked out a cookie and bit into it. Heaven.

  There was so much bothering her besides her grandfather’s affair, it was easy to answer honestly.

  “I’m worried.”

  “About the ranch?”

  “About the ranch.” Lindsey chewed contemplatively, remembering how quickly Ashley had suspected something was amiss with the foreman. “And about you. I know you trust Shane Lockhart, Grandma, but I’m not sure you should.”

  Grace gave Lindsey a look filled with pity. “Not every man’s like Rodger, honey. Shane is a fine man.” Her still-lovely face creased in a smile. “And a real catch. You could do a lot worse.”

  Lindsey rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking if I should date him, Grandma. I don’t even like him.”

  Grace’s smile grew mischievous. “You like looking at him.”

  “I’m a normal red-blooded American woman.” Lindsey laughed. “He’s just—you know.” She flailed one hand uselessly in the air. The truth was, she did like looking at Shane Lockhart. She liked dreaming about him too. In dreams, kissing led to caressing, caressing to a tumble between the sheets. She’d pictured it all—even the morning after, when they’d make love in a shaft of sunlight.

  Finished with her cookie, she picked up another figurine, a tiny thing the color of topaz with a carefully applied black mane and tail. It was one of her grandmother’s favorites.

  Careful, careful. Be gentle. He’s gentle. Those rough, calloused fingers are careful, so careful…

  Fumbling the little horse between her fingers, she nearly dropped it.

  “Oops.”

  Thank goodness her grandmother couldn’t read her mind. Although the way Grace was looking at her, it seemed she knew exactly what the problem was.

  “Maybe I should do this later.” Lindsey set the horse back in his spot and turned to face her grandmother, who lifted her brows. “We need to talk. Really talk.”

  “That serious?”

  “That serious.” Lindsey picked up another cookie, just to have something to do. “With Grandad gone, Shane has control of everything, including your finances. How do you know he’s not skimming profits or selling cattle behind your back?”

  Grace’s smile vanished, replaced by a thin, grim line, and the blue eyes turned to gray steel. Lindsey had seen that expression a couple times before, once when her grandmother had caught a distant cousin at a family barbecue teasing Lindsey and making her cry, and once when she’d caught a cowhand abusing a horse. Grace might seem like a sweet old lady, but she was fierce as a bull with a burr in his britches when it came to cruelty of any kind.

  “Really, Lindsey. Nobody could put one over on Bud. He watches those books like a hawk.”

  Present tense.

  Maybe Shane was right about Grace. She seemed suddenly unaware of her husband’s passing.

  “Besides, we’ve known Shane a long time. You remember him from before, don’t you?” Grace asked. “You met him years ago, when you were just a girl. You seemed quite taken with him then.”

  “Taken with him?” Lindsey did her best to laugh. “As I remember it, I practically ran away and hid.”

  “Like I said, quite taken with him.”

  “That was because I knew I shouldn’t be. Bud said he and his brothers weren’t safe. He didn’t want me around them.”

  Grace gave her a sharp glance. “He said that to you?”

  “No.” Lindsey fidgeted. Even now, all grown up, she was ashamed of her childhood transgressions. “I eavesdropped.”

  “That’s all right then.” Grace nodded, satisfied. “Because if Bud said such a thing to you, even now, I’d have to speak with him. It’s not right to be judgmental.”

  Lindsey looked up in alarm. Her grandmother was definitely confused if she thought she could speak to Bud anywhere but in her prayers. Maybe Shane Lockhart was right, and her grandmother had a serious problem.

  Maybe he was genuinely worried about her grandmother, while she’d missed all the signs of impending dementia.

  Maybe the man himself was the least of her problems.

  Chapter 21

  “Grandma?” Lindsey gazed up into her grandmother’s eyes, wondering what she should say, what she should do. It scared her to see even the smallest cracks forming in her grandmother’s quick mind.

  “Oh, I know he’s gone.” Grace picked up a glass horse and frowned at it. “I just don’t always want to admit it.”

  Lindsey watched her grandmother’s hands, the knuckles swollen with arthritis but the touch delicate as ever as she polished the horse’s neck. It had just been a small crack, then. A brief exit from reality. Maybe that was to be expected, since Bud’s death had been such a shock.

  She didn’t know what to do, so she simply continued her line of thought. “But about Shane. I know he comes
from a—a rough background.” Lindsey knew even as she said the words that she was treading on thin ice. “Why should you trust him?”

  “Because a man can’t help where he’s from. He can only control who he becomes. And Shane became a good man, and a strong one.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he was raised by Bill and Irene Decker,” Grace said. “And because he overcame such a dreadful past.”

  “Dreadful?” Lindsey was a little ashamed of her interest in the seedier aspects of Shane’s past. But it wasn’t just idle curiosity; she had good reason to find out all she could about Shane Lockhart.

  “He was a foster child, you know. At Phoenix House.”

  Lindsey nodded. “I’ve passed that place a couple times. It looks pretty nice.”

  “It’s changed.” Grace’s tone grew dark with drama. “Back then, it was a terrible place for children. They had to shut it down, the abuse was so bad.” Her hand trembled as she picked up a cleaning cloth and went to work on the figurine. “The woman who ran it barely fed those boys. That’s one reason I know Shane would never skim money. Because that’s what she did—pocketed half the food budget for herself.”

  “But they weren’t, um”—Lindsey hated to say the word—“abused physically, were they? Or—you know.”

  “Depends on your definition,” Grace said. “They were punished for every little thing. Made to stay in the basement, in rooms that had no light. No beds. Not so much as a pot to—you know.”

  Lindsey winced again, this time for Shane’s sake. The man might be mostly a mystery to her, but it was obvious he had his pride. “I hope that didn’t happen to Shane.”

  “I suspect he spent quite a bit of time in that basement,” Grace said. “You might have noticed he’s not a man who backs down.”

  Lindsey had noticed that, all right. “So the place got shut down, and he went to the Deckers.”

  “Best thing that ever happened to him, and those two brothers of his. You remember them.”

  Lindsey grinned. “They’re hard to forget.”