His Favorite Cowgirl

by Leigh Duncan

  She brushed her fingers over kiss-warmed lips and inhaled a breath of air that smelled more of hay and impending rain than of Hank and the past they’d shared. “Let’s do this,” she said, snagging the loose end of the rope.

  Unwilling to risk a repeat performance of the near accident—or her weak-kneed reaction to Hank’s touch—she drew the line taut. She backed farther into the hayloft, wrapping the rope securely around a post. Braced for another rogue gust of wind, she nodded to Hank. If the breeze or her feelings kicked up again, she’d be ready to resist them both.

  She thought she saw the same mixed emotions shimmering in Hank’s eyes as he turned away from her. But he bent once again to the task of replacing the broken hinge without saying a word. This time, the work proceeded without a hitch, and ten minutes later, they climbed down the ladder, the moment they’d shared apparently forgotten.

  Hank never once sent a meaningful glance her way as he loaded Noelle into his truck and sped into the deepening night. Kelly watched the vehicle’s taillights until they disappeared around a bend in the road.

  Trudging into the house moments later, she admitted that Hank’s embrace, his kiss, had stirred feelings she thought she’d long since overcome. But, as much as she pretended she didn’t care anymore, she still missed having Hank in her life. Loneliness swept over her, and she prepared herself for a restless night. Sure enough, after two hours of trying to count sheep and losing track every time her thoughts veered into forbidden territory, she finally hit on something that would take her mind off the tall rancher and put it where it should be—on her grandfather.

  She slipped out of bed and into a pair of work jeans. Then, broom, mop and cleaning products in hand, she systematically worked her way through the house. By the time the sun rose over the cow pasture, she had brushed every cobweb from the corners, wiped inch-thick dust from bookshelves and knick-knacks. She had swept, washed and vacuumed until her back ached and her arms were too heavy to lift so much as a feather duster. Her energy spent, she finally collapsed into bed. Only moments later, her cell phone woke her.

  “Hello.” What time was it? She squeezed her eyes tight to block out the sunshine.

  “Kelly. Randall here. How are things with your grandfather?”

  The unmistakably deep-throated growl of the VP of Sales at Palmetto Boots cut through the fog in her sleep-deprived brain. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and straightened, thanking all the stars in heaven that her boss had opted for an old-fashioned phone call rather than his usual Skype session.

  “He’s holding his own.” She waited. She knew better than to think the man had called to discuss her grandfather’s health.

  “Good. Good to hear.” Randall Palmetto cleared his throat and got right down to business. “I wanted to be the first to congratulate you on landing the Ivey’s account. They faxed the contracts to us late last night. Everyone here is pretty excited about it.”

  “Really?” Kelly quickly drove the disbelief from her voice. Her boss did not kid around. Eager to hear the details, she leaned forward. “Were there any last-minute snags? Any negotiating points?”

  “No. They accepted all our terms. All your terms,” he corrected.

  “When do they want their first shipment?” She held her breath. A new customer could take months to reach a decision, and then expect next-day delivery. But ramping up for the chain would take time. Filling such big orders would involve every department in the company—from the tanners who supplied the leather right down to the stockmen who loaded the shipping pallets.

  Paper rustled as Randall turned pages. “Looks like we have some time with this one. Delivery is scheduled for December first. That should put us on their shelves in time for holiday shopping.”

  “Perfect.” A lead time of two and a half months was tight but doable. Best of all, it allowed her to attend to her grandfather’s business and still be back in time to handle the orders. Picturing exquisite boots under Christmas trees all across the country, Kelly smiled. She waited to hear how her hard work would be rewarded. Landing the big account meant a significant boost to Palmetto Boots’s bottom line. She crossed her fingers, hoping it also meant she’d finally get the corner office she’d been working toward ever since she signed on with the company.

  “Everyone recognizes the effort you’ve put into this contract, and we want you to run point on it. This is your baby.”

  Kelly could practically see her name etched on a glass door.

  “Since this is your first major account,” Randall continued, “I’ll be watching very closely to see how you handle it. This is your chance to prove you can deal with the pressures we expect of our top employees here at Palmetto Boots.”

  Another chance to prove herself? Hadn’t she been doing that from the time she sold her first pair of boots? She’d consistently worked longer hours than any other employee. As a manager, she’d turned her first store into the top producer in its region by overseeing every detail. Later, she’d hit higher sales quotas than any other regional manager. Yet, here she was, being asked to jump through yet another hoop before getting the corner office she deserved. Disappointment knifed through her. Would she ever be accepted into the Palmetto Boots family?

  “Yes, sir. I understand,” she murmured, swallowing the bitter news like a dutiful child. So it would take another year to earn the recognition she was due. She’d manage it.

  “Now, I know you’re dealing with some important family matters, but how soon can we expect you back in the office? We’ll want to get the ball rolling on this account as soon as possible.”

  “Ten days. Two weeks at the most. I just need to make arrangements for my grandfather’s long-term care and handle a few financial matters. Meantime, I can do a lot of the work via email,” she said, eager to show she was up to any challenge.

  The news added to the urgency of getting her grandfather’s affairs settled, but she knew meeting her deadline wouldn’t be easy. She had to sell the herd and the ranch. The sooner the better.

  But could she count on Hank to come through for her this time? Or would he let her down as he’d done in the past? She drew in a shaky breath. With so much to do and so little time to accomplish it, she really had no choice.

  Reluctantly, she picked up the phone and dialed the number for the Circle P ranch.

  * * *

  “THAT SHOULD DO IT,” Hank muttered. He powered the engine down. Once he had planted both boots on solid ground, he slammed the tractor’s cover shut and grabbed a rag. Wiping grease from his hands, he crossed the yard. He allowed himself a tight smile when his heels struck the front porch steps he’d repaired earlier that afternoon. Though the Bar X was far from perfect, he was making progress. With just a little bit of luck, John Jacobs would fall in love with the place and, soon after, Hank would bank a big commission from selling the ranch.

  Unless he’d blown it with Kelly.

  He shook his head. What had gotten into him? He’d been up half the night kicking himself for kissing her. The other half, he’d tossed and turned, wishing he’d done it again. And more. He might have spent the last dozen years trying to forget her, but he had to face the truth—he’d never been able to completely erase his first love from his mind. After the kiss they’d shared in the barn the night before, he wasn’t sure he ever would.

  With a single glance at the young girl sitting in the front porch swing, he pulled hard on the reins of his wandering thoughts. He might have given Kelly another chance...if his heart was the only thing at risk. Trouble was, it wasn’t. He had his daughter to think of. His relationship with her had to retain top billing. Even if she hadn’t bothered to look up the whole time he’d been standing in front of her.

  “Hey, Noelle.” He scuffed his foot. When a few paint chips flaked off the cedar boards, he added painting the porch to his list of necessary repairs. “Time to put
that away and take a ride out to the pasture with me.”

  Noelle looked up from her cell phone. “I thought it was gonna take hours to fix the tractor.”

  “Turned out, it only needed some new spark plugs. Now that it’s fixed, we’ve got cows to tend to.” The Bar X cattle would surely starve to death on the sparse grass. Although ranchers usually saved their supplemental feed for the winter, these cows needed it now. “C’mon and help me.” When Noelle still didn’t budge, he reached into a regrettably light bag of parental tricks. “I’ll let you drive the tractor,” he added.

  For a moment he was afraid she’d turn him down. After all, what was a tractor ride to a city girl? Instead he saw a rare glimmer of excitement on Noelle’s face, one of only a few in the five days since he picked her up at the airport.

  “Honest?”

  “Your feet won’t reach the pedals, but yeah, you can steer once we get out of the yard.”

  Memories tickled the back of his throat. He saw himself sitting in his dad’s lap, his hands on the tractor’s wheel while his father worked the pedals. He couldn’t have been more than three or four at the time.... Blinking hard, he swallowed. He was getting a heck of a late start with Noelle, but he had to make things right between them before she hit her teens and he lost his chance.

  Unable to find the words to tell her how he felt, and half-afraid she’d laugh at him for the effort, he settled for clamping a hand on her shoulder as they crossed the yard to the barn. They climbed onto the tractor’s wide seat, where he balanced Noelle on one knee. White smoke filled the air when he fired up the machine. A short time later, with Noelle at the wheel, they bumped over rough ground. When they came to the first gate, Hank let the engine idle.

  “Let me show you how we handle these. Then, next time we come to one, you can do it on your own.”

  He braced for a world-class protest, but Noelle surprised him by scrambling down from the seat to walk by his side through the weeds. Something slithered across the path ahead, and Hank put his arm out, stopping his daughter.

  “Always watch where you put your feet,” he warned. He pointed to a wavy line in the dirt. “Most of the snakes around here are harmless, and your boots offer some protection. Still, it pays to watch out.”

  “I know all about snakes,” Noelle boasted. “Last year, a man from the zoo brought a bunch of them to our school. I got to hold a rattlesnake. The other kids were too scared.”

  Hank slowly shook his head. There were some images he could live the rest of his life without seeing. His little girl handling a poisonous viper was one of them. “Those probably had been milked so they didn’t have any venom.” He hoped. “The ones out here won’t be. We’ll do our best to avoid them.”

  A loop of chain held the gate fast to a fence post. He slipped it free. Swinging the barrier wide, he wedged it in the grass. They returned to the tractor and he drove it through the opening.

  “It’s important that we always close up behind us,” he explained, as they retraced their steps to loop the chain over the post again. “We wouldn’t want the cattle to get into an area that’s just been fertilized or sprayed. It wouldn’t be good for them.” Not that it would be a problem on the Bar X, where no one had done either.

  “Where are they? The cows, I mean?” Noelle looked about as if she expected one to emerge from behind the nearest palmetto bush.

  “Most of ’em are over that away.” He aimed a thumb in the general direction they were headed.

  At the next gate, Noelle scrambled down from the tractor before he said a word. Hank drove through and waited until she climbed back aboard. They repeated the process twice before they made it to an enclosure filled with bales of hay and grass wrapped in thick plastic.

  Hank glanced over one shoulder at the closed gate behind them. Just as he expected, several head of Brahman wandered toward them on the other side of the fence. He pointed to a calf racing across the field to join the others. “Look at that little fella go. He knows something’s up and doesn’t want to miss out.”

  While Noelle watched the gathering herd, Hank levered the tractor blade. He scooped up the first bale and raised the arm into the carrying position. The load slowly sank to the ground, and he frowned. Hank jumped off the tractor, his boots sinking into the soft dirt, but when his daughter started to join him, he held out a hand. “You sit here while I see what’s wrong, okay?”

  For the first time since they left the ranch house, Noelle protested. “But, Dad, I want to help.”

  Hank hesitated. As much as he longed to have her at his side, he didn’t think his little fashionista would appreciate getting grease on her new clothes. “Trust me,” he said softly. Though the girl’s expression turned sullen, he grabbed a wrench from the storage box behind the seat. Leaning over the couplings for the hydraulic lines, he spotted a small leak and bent to tighten the fitting. A stream of thick fluid shot out at him, and he jumped back. Not that it did any good. Despite his quick movement, dark goo splattered his shirt, his pants, his boots.

  Noelle’s laughter rang out, and Hank swallowed the curse that had sprung to his lips. He wiped dark oil from his arms and flung it into the grass, a move that earned him another of Noelle’s precious chuckles. He bent again, this time managing to tighten the loose bolt without getting doused with another spray.

  Hank stuck the wrench in his back pocket. Once they got back to the barn he’d have to give the system a complete overhaul, but the temporary fix should hold long enough to finish today’s task. Babying the tractor along, he removed two bales of silage from the storage area and split them open. Bellowing and lowing, hungry cattle gathered on the other side of the fence as the air ripened with the heavy, beerlike scent of fermented grass.

  “Listen to them.” Hank shook his head. “They’d gorge themselves on this stuff if we let ’em.” He tossed the words over his shoulder as he strode toward the gate alone. Swinging it wide, he waited until the last of the cows passed through before he headed back to the tractor.

  “Dad, what about the little one?” Noelle asked when he slid onto the seat beside her. She pointed toward the calf they’d watched run across the field. “The other cows won’t let him eat.”

  Hank eyed the smallest of the gray Brahmans. “He’s a feisty little fella. He’ll figure it out,” he offered reassuringly.

  They watched as the youngster ran up and down the line of feeding cattle without finding a place of his own. Finally, he nosed in between two of the heifers. The calf took a bite, snorted and backed out as quickly as he’d come. He sneezed twice before lapping his mouth with his long tongue. Hank was certain if cows could smile, this one would be wearing a broad grin. The next time he plunged in, the calf stayed put.

  “Dad, why’s everything so brown here?” Noelle asked on the way back to the house.

  Hank swept a glance over thin, brittle ground cover that stretched to the horizon. “Ranching is hard work. At the Circle P, we have a whole crew to help out. Kelly’s grandfather was trying to do everything by himself.”

  Noelle’s small face scrunched. “How come?”

  “I’m not sure,” Hank said. Paul Tompkins had always been the cantankerous sort, but whether he’d fired his crew or they’d left because he couldn’t afford to pay them, the end result was still the same.

  “He’s a funny old guy,” Noelle continued. “He shouldn’t have to work so hard.”

  “It’s a shame no one noticed how bad things had gotten before now.” Hank swallowed. His dad would have, if he’d been alive. Seth Judd had always made it his business to know what was happening on the nearby ranches. Swearing to follow in his father’s bootsteps, he turned to his daughter.

  “Round here, neighbors count on one another to pitch in when someone gets sick,” he pointed out. “That’s what we’re doing now. Helping Kelly and her grandfather out of a jam.”

&
nbsp; They turned into the yard just as the dinner bell rang. Hank patted his stomach.

  “You ready to eat? Kelly said she was fixing veggie lasagna for supper.” Which wasn’t what he would have chosen—not by a long shot—though he wasn’t about to put a damper on his time with Noelle by mentioning it.

  “I’m pretty hungry.”

  Warmth spread through his chest when Noelle rubbed her belly the way he had done. After maneuvering the tractor into place beside the barn with only the smallest bit of help, she turned to him. “Dad—and I mean this in the nicest way—are you going inside like that? You, um, stink.”

  Hank chortled. “I do, do I? That’s what happens when you get sprayed with hydraulic fluid.” He pretended to lunge at her, backing off when she giggled and shied away. Sobering, he glanced down. “Point taken. I guess I’d better wash up. You want to head in and tell Kelly I’ll be along in a minute?”

  He smiled as she ran off, her long, thin legs eating up the ground between the barn and the house. Watching her go, he sent up a fervent wish that their time feeding the cattle had marked a change in his daughter’s attitude toward him, toward her stay on the Circle P. He knew she’d love it on the ranch once she gave it a chance. More than that, though, he needed to prove he could be more than an absentee dad, that he could be a real parent to the child he hardly knew. The kind of parent his father had been for him.

  He took off his Stetson and slapped it against the side of the barn. A few drops of dark oil splattered to the ground. His soggy shirt required more attention, and he crossed to the watering trough where he stripped down to his jeans. But a good scrubbing with soap and water only spread the stains across the once-white cotton. He wrung the shirt nearly dry and set it aside while he washed up as well as he could.

  Water dripped from his hair and ran in rivulets down his chest by the time he finished. He looked around for something to dry off with just as the screen door to the house slapped shut. His pulse quickened as he spied the slim blonde coming down the porch stairs, her arms full.