Cowboy Tough

by Joanne Kennedy

  Not that Maddie needed help coaxing flavor out of food. Two Dutch ovens nestled in the coals. Lifting the lid on one of them released a curl of swooningly fragrant steam and revealed a cozy cluster of biscuits, browned to golden perfection on top and light as spun sugar on the inside. Another bubbled over with glistening chunks of what proved to be venison floating in a rich sauce along with potatoes and carrots. Cat felt like she was eating Bambi’s mother, but the meat was full of flavor. Corn, steamed in its husks, completed the meal. Dessert was apple cobbler cooked in a skillet over the coals.

  Tippy spent mealtime circling the benches, staring pleadingly at each diner in turn. Dora chattered animatedly with Mack and Maddie, and even with the hired hand—a tall, quiet man who’d sat on the far side of the fire and eaten in near-total silence. But she ignored Cat, and when Maddie began loading the quaint enamel plates and cooking pots into wicker laundry baskets for the trip back to the house, the girl jumped up to help, chattering as if she’d known these people all her life.

  Cat watched her niece trot up to the house, followed by Maddie and Trevor. She started after her niece and was stopped by a strong hand on her shoulder.

  “Let her go,” Mack said.

  She tried to shake him off, but the hand just got heavier. There was nothing sexual in his touch this time. It was just firm. Decisive. Somehow, that was sexier than if he’d caressed her.

  “Seriously. Let her go. I have a daughter the same age. If you act needy, you’re done for.”

  “I’m not needy.”

  “You need her to like you. It’s pretty obvious.”

  She toed a line in the dirt with the toe of her boot. “I just want her to be happy.”

  “Right now, making you miserable is what makes her happy.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “It’s about the only thing she has power over right now.”

  That was true, and pretty perceptive for a cowboy.

  “I know it’s hard,” he said. “We took my daughter to a counselor when things got bad with the divorce.” He settled onto one of the benches. “He gave us a lot of tips on dealing with exactly this kind of thing.”

  “Did counseling help?” she asked.

  “A little.” He shrugged. “It’s all theory. Not much of it seemed to work with Viv, but Dora seems more normal.”

  If Dora was normal, Cat hated to think what his daughter was like. “So what kind of advice did he give you?”

  “Be there for her. Care about her. But pretend you don’t.”

  She scraped up a little hillock of sand with the side of her boot, then tapped it down with the toe. “I’m not that good an actress.”

  “I noticed.” He grinned, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. The firelight made his tanned skin glow like gold. His eyes were bright with reflected flames. “Your heart’s pretty close to the surface.”

  She felt her face warm, and it wasn’t from the heat of the flames. Her heart had been close to the surface back in the barn—close enough to catch fire. But she’d laid down the law, and she was going to follow the rules she’d set for both of them.

  No touching.

  “She’s your sister’s daughter, right?” he asked.

  Cat swallowed and nodded. She pictured Dora’s sharp little face, then let the image soften and melt in her mind, the features becoming Edie’s. It had barely been six months since Edie’s death, and yet she could only find her through Dora.

  “She was. Edie—Edie’s gone.” She sank down beside him, carefully keeping a hand’s breadth of space between them. “We were close. Our parents were kind of distant, and we had to take care of each other. Dora’s so much like Edie. I love her like crazy. Probably too much.”

  “Girls that age need somebody to love ’em.” He grinned. “God knows it’s not easy. Viv drives me nuts.”

  “No kidding. The other night I had a dream where a pack of ravenous wolves brought Dora down like a deer in a nature documentary. When I woke up I was hardly even sorry. I still feel terrible about that.”

  He smiled, poking a chunk of unburned wood into the center of the fire with a stick. A quick blue flame rose and danced. “That annoying, huh?”

  “That frustrating.”

  “Tell me about her mom.”

  She shouldn’t confide in this man. But what did it really matter? She shouldn’t have kissed him either, but the whole thing would be over when she went back to Chicago. And there was nothing wrong with talking.

  He nudged her again. “Earth to Cat. Your sister?”

  She hadn’t talked about Edie since the funeral. She’d gone home to her empty apartment with nothing but a photo of Edie that her brother-in-law had mounted in a silver frame. She talked to the picture now and then. One night she’d clutched it to her chest and let herself cry. But other than that she kept her grief quiet.

  Of course, no one had ever offered to listen before. She felt her heart opening and was helpless to stop herself from spilling out her story.

  “She was two years older than me. We both went to the Academy, both majored in visual arts. But we were so different.” She looked up at the sky, where the silver of twilight was fading to black and stars were beginning to wink out of the darkness. “I was the workhorse, studying hard, developing my craft. Edie was a natural.”

  She smiled up at the sky, remembering how fearlessly her sister had wielded a brush, how boldly she’d attacked blank canvas. “She had so much talent. She’d sketch the simplest thing—an old shoe, a pigeon—and it would be the shoe, the pigeon. She caught the essence of things like no one I’d ever seen.”

  “And you think Dora’s just as talented.”

  “I do. Trouble is, she’s just as unmotivated. Edie was too busy living to paint. Boys. Parties. Crazy stunts, you know? She barely graduated. And then she married the richest boy in town and partied some more. And then she got cancer.”

  “But first she had Dora.”

  “Thank God. There’s so much of Edie in Dora. But she’s all we have left. My sister had a few sketchbooks, most of them half-full, and she did a Christmas card every year. That’s all the art she did after she got married.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Yeah, but Dora inherited her talent, and I think she’s got the drive to use it. She just needs a little guidance.”

  “And that’s your job.”

  Cat thought she caught a little sarcasm in Mack’s voice, but she let it pass.

  “That’s my job,” she echoed. “To make sure she doesn’t get lost like her mother. To help her make a mark on the world.”

  Mack set his hand on the edge of the bench behind her. If she sat back, changed her position the slightest bit, he’d have his arm around her. She’d be able to lean against him, just for a minute.

  But Dora might come out any moment. She edged away. He didn’t seem to mind, picking up a stick and poking at the fire. Maybe she’d only imagined he was making a move.

  “Your sister made a mark on you,” he said. “That’s about all we can hope for. To matter to the people we love.”

  “But she could have made such a difference.” Cat felt her lower lip tremble and sucked in a deep breath. “The world should have seen what she could do. I’m not letting that happen to Dora.”

  “Sounds like a big job.”

  “Not really.” Cat looked up and watched the stars shimmer as the sky darkened. “She’s my second chance.”

  Chapter 11

  Mack watched Cat as she watched the stars. Her head was tilted back, and those dark blue eyes were sparkling with reflected light.

  She caught him looking. “What?”

  “I’m just thinking—you take a lot of responsibility for other people. Does someone take care of you?”

  “Sure. I have a boyfriend.” Even in the dim light, he could se
e the flush spreading over her face. “That sounds funny at our age, doesn’t it? Boyfriend.”

  “So how come you don’t marry him? You’re what—twenty-five?

  “Twenty-eight. And that’s kind of personal, don’t you think?” Her eyes darted from his face to the fire and back again. She was hiding something, he was sure. There was something fishy about her relationship with this boyfriend. Mack wondered if she’d made him up. “It’s just—he’s—I don’t know. I should. He’s amazing.”

  Yeah, right. Mack was pretty sure she wasn’t stuttering from the depth of her feelings. “Amazing, huh?”

  She nodded eagerly. “He’s a painter. A real artist.”

  “You’re a real artist.”

  She laughed. “How would you know?”

  “I looked you up. Online. Your work’s terrific.”

  She looked flattered, surprised, and uncomfortable all at once. And changed the subject back to the boyfriend as quick as she could.

  “Well, his work’s hung in museums all over the world. MoMA bought one of his pieces last year.”

  “Your momma?”

  “No, MoMA.”

  Her lips quirked up in a grin and he wondered if she knew he was egging her on. He might not have visited a lot of museums, but he knew what MoMA was.

  “The Museum of Modern Art. In New York.”

  “Oh. I guess that would be a pretty big deal. So would I have heard of this guy?”

  “Maybe. Ames Whitaker?”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Well, it would if you were into art. TIME magazine called him ‘America’s most promising young abstract expressionist.’”

  “So what else about him is amazing?”

  She plucked a sprig of blue flax from beside the bench and spun it in her fingers. She’d stuck several of them in her hat, but the petals had dropped off, leaving a few weedy stalks sticking up like antennae.

  “You need more than that?” She lifted her chin. “He’s a major talent. Unique. And he’s—different. It’s like he lives on another plane than the rest of us, really. Sometimes I tease him about living in a dream world.”

  Mack knew the type. Guys who thought they were special. He’d seen it too often in rodeo—the big stars taking advantage of their status, using a woman until some other pretty face came along.

  “Are there ravenous wolves in this dream world of his?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  “Well, they introduced them to Yellowstone. Maybe we can set some loose on Ames Whosiswhat.”

  “It’s Whitaker.” She laughed. “Jealous?”

  “No. But I’m still wondering who takes care of you.”

  She shot him a narrow-eyed glare. “I take care of myself.”

  “Hmm.” Mack thought a moment, wondering how far he should go. Cat deserved better than this Ames guy—that was obvious.

  He might as well be honest with her. She’d be gone in two weeks. Maybe he could teach her something more than how to ride horseback.

  “Sounds like this guy’s a total bust in bed.”

  “I didn’t say that.” She was really blushing now, and picking furiously at the poor flower. Two soft petals fluttered to the ground. “It’s just that… well… it’s a different kind of relationship. There’s more to it than that.”

  “I guess. Like name-dropping. Doesn’t do you much good when you’re around normal people, though. I never heard of him.”

  He didn’t know why he felt compelled to counsel this woman on her love life. Or why it twisted his heart into a knot to hear her talk about another man. He barely knew her.

  Sure, he’d kissed her, but he’d kissed women before. He’d kissed Alex, and look how that had turned out. He’d gotten Viv out of the deal, and he’d never regret that. But he’d also gotten massive credit card debt and a mortgage for a house he didn’t live in.

  But Cat didn’t seem like the money-grubbing type. In fact, he wondered how she could survive in Chicago. He’d always figured living in the city would be like living among that pack of wolves they’d been joking about.

  After his divorce, he’d begun to think it was women who were the wolves. Now the pang of jealousy he felt when Cat talked about her boyfriend told him he was falling prey to another one.

  She rose and walked away, heading up the path to the house without a word. He ought to feel lucky, like the deer would if a wolf snapping at his heels suddenly veered off in another direction.

  But he’d been enjoying the chase, and that pang of jealousy turned into a different kind of pang as he watched her go.

  He’d made up his mind when he’d returned to concentrate on the ranch, and on his family. He wasn’t looking for a woman, that was for sure.

  So why did he feel so lonely watching her leave?

  ***

  By the time Mack finished the evening chores, the fire had dwindled to a flicker he could barely see from the barn. He headed down to the bunkhouse to kick a little dirt over it and caught Cat sitting silently on one of the benches, staring into the flames.

  “How’d it go with your niece?”

  She shrugged. There was a definite chill in the air, and it wasn’t just because the fire was flickering out. He’d probably earned the cold shoulder with his comments about her boyfriend. He didn’t know why he’d said that stuff. It had just pissed him off, her going on about how Honey Bumpkiss lived in a different world. She deserved better than that.

  He suspected the guy wasn’t any more talented than Cat herself. The paintings of hers he’d found online had been amazing. And she’d been swept away by the beauty of the landscape on their brief ride. He’d had to tap her on the shoulder twice, waking her up while she drank in the scenery.

  But instead of putting whatever vision she’d absorbed into a painting, she was worrying about Dora, worrying about this Whitaker character, worrying about her students.

  Worrying about him and what he was going to say next. Or do.

  He needed to get a grip and make up for his previous clumsiness. Guiding a bunch of tenderfoots through the ranch’s vast backcountry wasn’t going to be an easy task. They needed to be a team.

  “I’ll do what I can to help with Dora.” He sat down beside her. “It seems like this might be a tough time for her.”

  “What’s not a tough time when you’re fifteen?” Cat said. She seemed to be asking the sky, not him, so he didn’t answer. The next question was addressed to him.

  “So how old’s your daughter? And where is she?”

  “She’s sixteen. Lives with my ex in Colorado.” He grabbed a stick and leaned forward, poking at the fire. It didn’t need poking; he just didn’t want to have to look at Cat while he answered.

  “Do you see her much?”

  He shook his head. “She’s supposed to spend most of the summer with me, but Alex—my ex—always has some reason she can’t make it.”

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  “Five years. Alex doesn’t like the way I live. ‘The rodeo lifestyle,’ she calls it. She doesn’t seem to understand it’s my job.”

  “Doesn’t it keep you from having a stable place for your daughter?”

  He swallowed an angry retort. “This place is pretty stable.”

  She nodded. “But you didn’t live here. When you were married, I mean.”

  “No. Alex didn’t want me to rodeo, but she wasn’t cut out to be a ranch wife, either. Soon as we were married, she turned into a freakin’ Kardashian. All she wants to do is dress up and go to parties. And shop. Shopping is her life—she’ll tell you so. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t exactly retail heaven.”

  “I don’t know.” She surprised him with a smile. “I saw some great sunglasses for sale at the Kum ‘n’ Go. And the prairie dog figurines were to die for.” She stretched he
r legs toward the fire. “Doesn’t Viv like to come here? Dora seems to love it.”

  He shrugged. “Alex is trying to turn Viv into a little clone of herself.” He sighed again, more heavily this time. “I don’t mean to be nasty. I loved Alex once. It’s just that we have nothing in common. Money matters so much to her.”

  “It doesn’t to you?”

  “I want to have enough. But I don’t need a whole lot of stuff. Just the basics—enough to keep the people I love happy and safe.” He leaned back and looked up at the stars. “She’s got Viv convinced that she needs stuff to be happy, though, so it’s kind of a catch-22.”

  “Can’t you insist Viv comes for the summer? It’s a crucial time, I think. Girls that age are deciding who they’ll be the rest of their lives.”

  “Alex says Viv wants to go to modeling camp.”

  “I’ll bet you’re thrilled about that. Can’t you say no?”

  “That would just feed into Alex’s goal of turning Viv against me. She’s got her almost all the time. And when I do have Viv, she spends half her time texting on the cell phone Alex made me buy her. What the hell does a sixteen-year-old need with a cell phone?”

  Cat smiled. “You don’t know much about sixteen-year-olds, do you?”

  “I was one.”

  “Yeah, in the Dark Ages.” She cocked her head. “How old are you, anyway?”

  “Thirty-five.” There was another reason things couldn’t work out between them. He was older than her. Seven years older. Not a lifetime, but enough to make a difference.

  Enough about him. He tilted his head toward the bunkhouse, where Dora slept. “So did you notice Trevor and Dora at dinner?”

  “What? They didn’t even talk to each other.”

  “I know. There’s something fishy going on there. It just doesn’t feel right.”

  Cat looked thoughtful. “Same with me. I felt like she was lying about something. Like who instigated the connection at the airport. We need to watch him.”

  We. He was getting somewhere. “You bet.” He rose, brushing off his jeans. “You need to get some rest. Sorry to keep you awake with my sordid past.”