City Boy, Country Heart_Contemporary Western Romance

by Andrea Downing

  In the quiet that followed, as she lay in Chay’s arms, his soft breathing brushing her cheek, she listened to the susurration of the trees, the single meadowlark singing his song, and K.C. knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

  * * *

  Chay slammed into the office, the screen door slapping back against the wall to announce his arrival. But it wasn’t K.C. who looked up from the grand oak desk, it was Breezy.

  “Isn’t she back yet?” he asked without introduction.

  “Well, good morning to you, too, Chay; lovely to see you again. How are you, Breezy? Well, I’m fine, Chay, just fine.”

  Chay put a hand to his head and stared at the old girl, a sheepish grin on his face as he realized his bad manners. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry; it’s just I was so excited about the prospect of her having a job locally, a job she wants—”

  “Well. It’s not the job she wants, of course, working on a newspaper, but I guess it would keep her here with income. I don’t know what else to tell ya.”

  “She should be back by now.” Chay paced a few uneasy steps before coming back to face Breezy.

  “Well, she did say she might be stopping at the Chapel of the Transfiguration,” Breezy offered.

  “What? Isn’t that out of the way?”

  “She said she’d never been and wanted to stop. Chay, you can phone her. Remember that dang new invention, the mobile phone? Try using it.”

  “I did! She’s not picking up.”

  “She must be driving, dummy. Have a seat and wait patiently. Would you like a coffee?”

  “Yes.” Chay began to sit on a chair in front of the desk, but before his butt touched down, he popped up once more. “No! I have a better idea.” And he was out the door.

  Breezy’s, “Well, nice to see you, too, son” followed him down the steps.

  He knew he should be back at the ranch seeing to things, but Jarrod was there working on the bunkhouse and he had checked his herd first thing this morning. Having made up his mind, he was anxious for K.C. to return so they could settle things once and for all. The Chapel of the Transfiguration seemed like the perfect place for what he had in mind.

  Driving out through the national park, Chay felt relaxed, good in his own skin, being where he belonged, being who he was. He loved this time of year, early September when the tourists were thinning out and the countryside was preparing for the long winter ahead. The grey of the road blended in, a swathe through the high plain, dry grasses either side pulling back and turning a pale yellow harbinger of the autumn, the smell of sage, fresh and invigorating. In the distance, the valley floor met the jagged peaks of the mountains, a hazy blue-grey against the brighter tones of the sky with its brushstrokes of white.

  As he pulled into the lot at the Chapel, only the pickup with its inscribed ‘Lazy S Ranch’ on the side was there. Chay hoped this meant she’d be alone inside. What he would say, and how he would say it, changed several times in his mind as he walked past the fencing where once, according to his father, one hundred or more horses would be tethered on a Sunday. Inside the vestibule, the rose windows always amused him: ‘Oh Ye Ice and Snow, Bless ye the Lord.’ The meaning, or whatever prompted that, Chay figured, was lost through the generations.

  He stole into the chapel and almost didn’t spot K.C. at first. Sitting in the front row, she was just gazing out the window at the mountains beyond the Cross that was framed there. As Chay slipped into the hand-hewn log pew behind her, she didn’t turn around but jumped as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “Came to find you, of course.” He let the silence speak for a moment, before adding, “You didn’t pick up when I rang. Is everything all right?”

  “I didn’t get the job, and I was driving, so…. I’m not sure what to do next.”

  “I have a job for you. Well, I know you’ll want another job but this may tide you over.” Chay tried to fold himself onto his knee and crawl around to face her but the residual pain from his injury brought out a loud “Owwwww.”

  “What are you doing?” K.C. twisted back to look at him and found him on his knees, his face an awful grimace. “What are you doing?” she repeated. When she saw Chay reach into his pocket, she laughed. “Are you trying to propose?”

  Chay opened a small jewelry box, hands shaking, uncertain of her answer now he had made up his mind. “This was my grandmother’s.” He tried to smile but the pain was winning. Despite this, he inched his way around to face her in front, holding out the ring like some penitent’s offering. He had to clear his throat before getting out a croaky, “K.C., will you marry me?”

  K.C. looked from the glimmering sapphire and diamond ring to Chay, back again, and giggled. She had to blink back tears several times before she could squeak out a “yes, of course, I’ll marry you, silly man,” as he slipped the ring on her finger.

  When it proved too big for her, he glided it on to the middle finger as a temporary measure, and grinned.

  Her gaze travelled from the ring to Chay and back once more as he rose up like the Tin Man and shook out his sore leg. He offered her his hand and gave her a quick kiss to seal the deal. Then he blew out a tired sigh.

  “K.C., are you ready to go home now? Because I am.”

  “You were supposed to say that at my parents’ house, and you were going to be fresh and original if I recall correctly.”

  “Okay, how’s this for ‘fresh and original’: ‘K.C., there’s a nice new Queen-size bed waiting for us at my ranch, and I’d love to share it with you ’til death do us part’.” When he received no reply, he continued with, “Or how about, ‘marry me and be mine, and let’s get at it?’”

  K.C. shook her head.

  “All right, how about just a plain old, ‘let’s get hitched, babe, ’cause I’ve a mighty hunger for your love.’”

  They started for the door, K.C. shaking her head again, holding back a laugh.

  “‘Come to my house and’…noooo…. ‘Be my wife, come home with me, so I can plow a…?’ No, that won’t work either. What about, ‘Marry me, and be my love, lay on your back and look at the stars above?’”

  K.C. snickered.

  “Oh, I got it: ‘Let’s ride off into the sunset!’”

  Chay was still making up his ‘fresh and original’ lines as she yanked her car door shut and drove for home.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  My thanks to Page Lambert for giving me guidance on the subject of Eminent Domain in the state of Wyoming. Any mistakes regarding this are purely my own.

  Thank you for reading City Boy, Country Heart by award-winning author Andrea Downing. If you’d like to read more of Andrea’s books, you can find them here on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Andrea-Downing/e/B008MQ0NXS/ and on her website https://andreadowning.com/

  If you haven’t as yet had the opportunity to read Book 1 in Heart of the Boy—Bad Boy, Big Heart, it’s available at https://www.amazon.com/Bad-Boy-Big-Heart-Book-ebook/dp/B072MKG48B/

  Chapter One

  The pickup jerked and rattled over the rutted road, a tail of dust visible in the side mirror as K.C. Daniels gripped the door. She glanced across at Breezy, last name unknown, not given at the hasty airport meeting—bags snatched up, marched out to the truck, words lost on the Teton wind. Breezy’s monologue continued as her gnarled fingers loosely held the steering wheel. ‘Wizened’ came to K.C.’s mind, though that, perhaps, was too close to ‘witch-like’ for the woman’s kind face.

  “…So, like I said, the Settlers, the owners, they come out maybe once, twice a year—kind of a dumb name for folks who are anything but settled, doncha think? Then again, I don’t suppose they had much choice in the matter…and I don’t know why the hell they took up the ranch ’cause about the last thing they’re interested in is cattle I should think, over there in San Francisco, but…” ‘San Francisco’ was spat out as three words, a strong accent on the ‘Fran’ as if it hadn’t tasted too good in her mouth.r />
  As Breezy glanced across at K.C., the young woman managed to give her a small smile to show she was still listening.

  “You do know it’s a working cattle ranch and only a guest ranch in the summer?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, it was dang good for me, of course, ’cause when the Roberts sold up I thought I’d be plumb out of a job. Out of a home as well, most likely. Settlers are right nice folks. Good people. Easy going, you might say. Anyway, I doubt you’ll meet them. Barely come out in the summer months, not keen on the tourists, which is why they rent out then. Though not skiers, neither. Just like the idea of owning a ranch, I guess.” She turned to look at K.C.

  K.C. knew she was being sized up. Pondered. And then it was proved.

  “So what’s your story then?”

  “My story? My story is….”

  “City girl. I know that much ’cause when Bob Hastings come in and told me to fetch you at the airport, he gave me your flights to check. New York via Denver. New York, then. What’s that like?”

  “Uh. Well.” K.C. tried to think of some way to sum up New York, then was saved.

  “Big. Dirty, I’d guess. So whatcha doing out here?”

  “Summer job—”

  “Well, I know that much. Oh, hang on, cattle guard.”

  The pickup bounced over the grate, and the last of K.C.’s doubts about coming west to work tumbled away. The view left her speechless. Land. So much land, stretching away toward the mountains. Instead of the squares and spires of a city skyline hiding the streaks of sun and clouds, depriving the city of blue, here was endless blue, the horizon of earth and sky made jagged by the distant peaks as if they held the clouds aloft. An immediate feeling of space gripped her, a boundless world, a sense of freedom. K.C. leaned back in her seat and for the first time relaxed. Three months, just three months she knew would fly by, but at least it would give her a feel for the place, a toehold to which she could come back, if she wanted. She let out a breath and turned to tell Breezy the rest of her ‘story.’

  But then the older woman jammed on the brakes as a horse and rider virtually flew by, in front of them.

  “Oh, damn you, Chay Ridgway!” The effort of rolling down the window took too long. The horseman was gone, riding off toward a herd of cattle in the distance.

  K.C. watched as the rider seemed to slow a bit, approaching the cows. “Who or what was that?”

  “That dang Chay Ridgway.” Breezy cranked the window back up a bit. “Crazy cowboy,” she sputtered under her breath as the pickup started on toward the now-visible ranch buildings. “Let me give you one word of advice, Miss City Girl. One word you most likely won’t pay a blind bit of attention to, but I’m gonna give it to you anyway. And it’s this: don’t, repeat don’t, fall in love with Chay Ridgway.”

  K.C. couldn’t help the escaped giggle.

  “Oh, I know….” A hand came off the wheel, a stop sign of warning toward K.C. “You think you’re different. You think you’re not the falling-in-love type or have some idea you’re tougher than nails. Well, let me tell ya something, sweetheart. I’m seventy-two and I’m in love with Chay Ridgway. There’s not a gal within a hundred miles who doesn’t fall for that man. Head over heels. Seen it happen time and again. Doesn’t matter his reputation has traveled far and wide, probably in all fifty states by now. Every dang girl thinks she’s different, thinks she’s the one gonna change him.” She slammed the steering wheel with the flat of her hand. “What the heck is it with us women? We just go like bees to honey for bad boys. You get a pair of green eyes and a dimpled jaw, and bang!” She shook her head. “Legs open up like a drawbridge welcoming the Titanic….”

  * * *

  The girls’ bunkhouse had a strange smell of horse, leather, and perfume, with the odd clump of straw and dirt tracked in. A cloud of dust flew up from the blanket as K.C. threw her suitcase on a bed, the lower cot in a double aisle of bunk beds with cloth-covered cubbyholes in-between. ‘Summer camp’ went through her mind. Breezy had told her there was one other girl at the moment, a wrangler from Idaho, and K.C. sent out a prayer they’d get on well. She glanced at the other occupied bed, across the aisle from the bunk she had chosen. There was nothing particularly ‘girly’ lying around except the one incriminating bottle of perfume. She picked it up from the shelf and read the label—drug store brand, never heard of it—and placed it back down. That’s fine, that’s good, she wasn’t expecting debutantes as roomies.

  Exhaustion washed over her slowly, seeping into her bones like rain finding crevices to fill. She unzipped the case and started to put things away on the allotted cubby shelves, pondering the question of food versus sleep. The very early start in New York had landed her mid-afternoon in Jackson, a time when the ranch hands were busy. It might be nice to take a nap, or it might be even nicer to have a walk around and see the lay of the land. Breezy said she was welcome to grab a bite in the kitchen if hunger struck, but lying down for just a minute might get her better prepared for meeting everyone at dinner….

  Thunk! Her eyes drifted open to sagging springs from the bed above and a dark stain that looked like a map of Australia on the mattress ticking. Thunk! K.C. rolled onto one elbow and peered out to see the back of a girl on that occupied bed, leaning away from her into the far aisle. A long braid of hair hung down onto a checked shirt while indecipherable mumbles and the crook of her neck told K.C. the girl was most likely on a cell phone. When she turned to toss the phone on the bed, K.C. caught her eye.

  “Oh! Sorry. Did I wake you?”

  “Probably time. What time is it, by the way?” K.C. swung out of the bed into the light and checked her wrist. “Shit. Did I miss dinner?”

  The other girl nodded towards a covered plate sitting on the top of one of the cubbies. “Breezy thought you might get hungry. Said to bring in the plate when you’re done.” She maneuvered out of the bunk bed into the aisle near K.C., extending her hand. “Dakota Swayze.”

  “Swayze as in…?”

  “Oh, don’t start please. Yes and no.”

  “Okay. Well. K.C. Daniels.” She gripped Dakota’s hand in one firm shake.

  “And is that K.C. for…?”

  “Don’t ask!”

  Dakota nodded in compliance. “So you’re the summer office help, the meet and greet for the guests we don’t really want but have to put up with?”

  “Uh. I guess that’s a fair description. And you’re the wrangler for those very same guests I guess you don’t want?”

  “The very one.” She started to unbutton her shirt. “Listen up. I’m showering horse off me and getting fluffed to hit the Horse and Wagon tonight. Wanna come? You can bolt your supper and wash up, and we’ll head out. All the boys will be there. Last night before the season starts. It’ll be a madhouse and chaos, but you’ll meet everyone you missed at supper and have fun.” She didn’t give K.C. a chance to respond before turning, yanking the shirt off, and stepping out of her jeans. “Well, come on. What are you waiting for?”

  “I….All right! But I think I’d better shower, too.”

  The bathroom was nearly freezing as the late May night settled in, blackening the unshaded but mottled windows that had begun to fog up. K.C. wondered if the ‘boys’ ever peeked in or played any kind of practical jokes on the girls. Anyone could walk in while they were both showering. Stripped off, and trying not to be too modest in front of the unconcerned Dakota, she pulled aside the plastic curtain of her shower cubicle and reached in to turn on the water. Dakota hummed away in the next stall, the sweet smell of shampoo drifting out on the steam as it hit the cold air. Was this what she had signed up for? The water didn’t seem to get very hot, and K.C. slipped in gingerly to lather up. Three months of cold showers, a sagging bed, and trying to fit in. “City Girl,” Breezy had called her. She couldn’t escape that, couldn’t try to be something she was not, yet she so wanted to be accepted, wanted to be like them and liked by them, wanted a life different to the one her parents had planned for her.


  Dakota wasn’t putting on finery but a clean pair of jeans and a blouse with bling, fancy boots, and make-up, which highlighted her dark brown eyes and full lips. K.C. thought she was stunning. And at her lanky height, get her out of her chaps and her dirty jeans and she’d fit in anywhere. But would K.C. fit in here?

  * * *

  Dakota’s truck bumped back over the same potholes K.C. had traveled a few short hours earlier. Night filled the vehicle’s windows with a mystery as to what was out there and couldn’t be seen. Cattle? Coyotes? Buffalo were said to be in the area, but were they on the ranch? Moose? Elk? Antelope?

  As if reading her thoughts, Dakota said, “You have to be careful driving at night. There are elk all over the place out on the road into town. Moose, too, sometime. Chay caught a bear in his headlights once, said it scared the bejesus out of him.” She snorted a guffaw as if that was a joke.

  There was that name: Chay. “Chay?” K.C. played the innocent, as if Breezy hadn’t warned her. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “Ha! Chay? Chay’s nobody’s boyfriend. Chay’s a law unto himself. Don’t get mixed up with Chay. He’s a love ’em and leave ’em type.” Her glance met K.C.’s. “Oh, come on, Breezy must’ve warned you. Breezy warns everyone; she’s protective of Chay as if she wants him for herself but, of course, that’s not the case. She just doesn’t want anyone getting hurt.”