Cowboy Summer

by Joanne Kennedy

  What had Amber Lynn been doing there, anyway? Surely, the woman would rather run naked through the streets of Wynott than live in Springtime Acres. Maybe Cade had rented the place as a secret love nest. Hot dang, she’d kill the man. Or—wait.

  She’d forgotten.

  She didn’t care.

  Once she shoved the issue out of her mind, the day went fast, with one task after another around the ranch. It ended in a spectacular sunset, but as evening settled over the mountains, the darkness dimmed her optimism. Reality settled over her mind like a wet blanket as she whistled the horses in from the field and fed them. Normally, she enjoyed the familiar sounds and scents of the barn, but tonight, she performed her tasks by rote, her heart still scarred, still hurting.

  In the kitchen, she opened one cabinet after another, looking for something she wanted to eat. The house felt hollow and still until a faint sound caught her attention—the grinding of wheels on the gravel drive.

  Cade.

  Her heart leapt at the thought of him, and she had to remind it, sternly, that he was not good news. Those invisible angels had been taunting her; the happiness they’d offered didn’t exist. Besides, happiness wasn’t something angels granted. It was something you earned through hard work and perseverance. And you earned it alone.

  Ducking away from the window, she slipped upstairs and flopped onto her bed, slapping a pillow over her head.

  I’m not here, I’m not here, I’m not here.

  As feet crunched on the gravel below, she found herself speculating about which Wranglers he’d wear. Her brain might be over Cade, but her heart and her nether parts were taking a little longer.

  A voice drifted in on a breeze. “She sure will be surprised.”

  That wasn’t Cade. It was Molly.

  Tossing the pillow aside, Jess sat up, straining to identify the faint buzz of voices as the front door slammed and footsteps clattered in the hall. A male voice mixed with Molly’s, and when it rose, boisterous and familiar, Jess’s heart rose with it, high and happy as a kite on the wind.

  “What’s a man gotta do to get a welcome home around here?”

  “Daddy!” She tumbled from the bed and raced downstairs. “What are you doing here?”

  There stood her father, looking more like himself than he had since she’d arrived. He wasn’t quite the enormous presence of her childhood—sadly, he’d never be that again—but he stood tall, solid, and larger than life. Large enough, in fact, that she almost threw herself into his arms, as if she was still a little girl and he was still the biggest, baddest rancher in Wynott County. But a closer look caught the shadows under his eyes, so she opted for a gentle hug. His hand went reflexively to his incision, so she knew she’d been right to be careful.

  Drawing Molly into the hug, she closed her eyes tightly, breathing in her dad’s familiar scent. It carried her back into the past, to the days when he’d taught her to ride, helped her groom horses, shown her how to lasso the silly old roping dummy he’d dragged around the riding ring. Thanks to this man, she’d lived most of her life on solid rock. And even though she was scrambling around on quicksand now that she’d grown up, she was grateful for the firm foundation.

  “Well.” Her dad stepped back and looked around. “Good to see it didn’t fall down yet.”

  She felt a flutter of alarm. What would he say about Val and the changes she wanted to make? How would he feel about putting the place on the market? Sure, he’d asked Jess to do it. But he was feeling better now, and his drug-induced confession in the surgery suite proved he hadn’t been entirely honest when he’d called her home.

  But now wasn’t the time to talk about the ranch. She’d stick to safer topics.

  “What did the doctor say about your heart?”

  “Didn’t say a danged thing,” Heck said. “Got sick of waiting for him and staged a jailbreak.”

  “Oh, Dad!”

  “Don’t you worry about me, honey pie. You worry about yourself and that man of yours.”

  Jess opened her mouth to tell him Cade was no man of hers, but she closed it again. Her dad needed rest and relaxation.

  “Tell you what,” she said. “I happen to know somebody made a coconut pie yesterday.” She winked at Molly. “So any man of mine can wait until morning while we celebrate your homecoming.”

  “Aw, Cade oughta be here, though,” he said. “Give him a call.”

  “Cade’s busy,” Molly said, bustling off to the kitchen.

  Jess watched her stepmother go, figuring Molly knew exactly what—or who—Cade was doing. But she did her best to smile while they gathered plates, forks, and the cake knife. She owed her stepmother for loving Heck Bailey and making him happy, so she’d do her best to forgive her for whatever part she’d played in that scene at the trailer. Whatever she’d done, she’d probably meant well. Jess wasn’t about to assume the worst of Molly. Not again.

  A half hour later, the little lamps on the wagon-wheel light over the kitchen table lit happy faces, and Jess felt absolutely safe in the center of her family. That happiness the angels had promised? Maybe this was it. And maybe—probably—it was enough and always would be. Even if they ended up sitting around a different table, in some retirement village, they’d still be happy as long as they were together.

  They played a couple of rounds of gin rummy, laughing when Heck tried to cheat.

  “You probably have to go soon,” he said. “How long’s that boss willing to wait?”

  “Oh, it’s no problem,” Jess said. “He’s very understanding.”

  That was a bald-faced lie. She’d spoken to her boss that morning, and he’d been dismissive and distracted. She could feel her status sliding downhill, and she doubted there was any kind of beach at the bottom. If she didn’t get back to work soon, she wouldn’t end up on the jewel in Birchwood’s crown. She’d be down at the bottom of its bloomers.

  By the fourth hand, Molly and her dad had begun to exchange meaningful glances that made Jess profoundly uncomfortable. Apparently, all those magazine articles about how old folks still liked sex were true.

  “I need to go to bed.” She stood and gathered the cake plates. “I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

  “Like what?” her dad asked eagerly.

  She didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d be checking the sick calves, because he couldn’t go along. Or that once the calves got well, she’d be looking into selling them, fixing the ranch up to impress buyers, and doing all the housebound chores he hated.

  No more cowgirl work or cowboy work. Not for the Baileys, anyway.

  “I’ll tell you in the morning.”

  She didn’t know how she’d do that. She didn’t even know if she could. Because though she was doing exactly what her father had asked by “prettying up the place,” she knew he’d be disappointed she hadn’t found a way to save it.

  Chapter 30

  Two days later, Molly trotted to the ringing phone to find Val on the line.

  “Is Jess around?” The real estate agent sounded breathless. “I’m on my way with some clients who are dying to see your place. I know it’s short notice, but they’re live ones.”

  Molly’s stomach rolled over and died. The changes in her husband’s life were coming too fast. But Jess had made the call, and Molly had to face the fact that it had been the right thing to do. Cade had a point; what Jess had seen at his window was enough to send any woman running for the hills—or running back to Denver. And without the kids to help out, there was no way Heck could run the ranch. Two heart attacks were enough.

  She let out a mirthless little huff of a laugh. It was ironic, really. Here they’d been scheming to get Jess home, pretending they wanted to sell the ranch, and now they actually had to do it for real. It was like karma had jumped up and slapped her in the face.

  Slapped her hard.

  “Jess
isn’t here,” she said. “I could help show the place, I suppose.”

  “No need. I called that cowboy next door—the good-looking one. He offered to help the other day, so I asked him to show these folks around on horseback. I believe this buyer’s going to very susceptible to his charms—the wife, anyway.”

  Molly smiled. “Sure. Cade knows the place like it’s his own.”

  “Okay.” Val lowered her voice. “Just so you know, we call these two the Dude and the Dudette around the office. Totally clueless about ranching, but boy, are they ready to play the part.”

  “Great.” Molly tried to sound enthusiastic.

  Val pulled into the driveway before Molly had even found Heck and warned him not to wander around in his boxers. The couple that emerged from the back of the SUV were quite a pair, a fat man and a tall, slender woman. They were dressed in aggressively western clothes, but even Molly could see they were dudes. Real cowboys didn’t wear rhinestone hatbands or souvenir belt buckles big enough to jab your belly when you bent over in the saddle. As a matter of fact, most real cowboys didn’t have bellies that big. Nor did real cowgirls wear enough jangling jewelry to stampede the herd.

  “These are the Swammetts,” Val said. “Glenn here is a television producer, and Margo used to be a model.”

  Margo must have modeled in those upscale western magazines where ranch work consisted of riding beautiful horses across pristine landscapes under dramatic skies while wearing truckloads of turquoise jewelry. Dot Bailey had probably aspired to be that kind of cowgirl, but while Molly couldn’t ride a horse or rope a calf, she refused to be a fake. She was a perfectly capable ranch wife, one who could whip up supper for twenty on branding day and hold the twitch on a horse for worming without showing one bit of the terror she felt at the nearness of its big, square teeth.

  Margo’s teeth were straight and blindingly white, and her cheekbones were so high, they gave her face an otherworldly cast. Her eyes were a remarkable shade of violet, and her figure was the definition of willowy. She was stunning and all the more attractive for the wide-eyed wonder with which she gazed around the ranch. A smattering of freckles across her nose kept perfection at bay, adding a touch of girlish charm and making her appear shockingly young beside her husband.

  “Oh, the house, the house.” Her breathy voice enunciated each word, as if reading from a language primer. “It reminds me of the house in Days of Heaven, honey. Remember that, the movie? Sam Shepard, he had that big old, what do you call it, the mansion?”

  “I fell asleep for that one, sweetie.”

  “I would have, but it had Ree-shard Gere.” Her smile came and went, as if it couldn’t stick to her face. For a model, she seemed remarkably unsure of herself. “Oh, that Reee-shard.” She fanned herself with one perfectly manicured hand. “He is so luffly.” She laughed, a sudden, harsh sound. She reminded Molly of a peacock she’d seen once. It, too, had been stunningly beautiful until it squawked.

  A clang of metal made every head turn. Cade, riding tall in the saddle, was unlatching the gate. His horse danced the delicate ballet to perfection, backing so Cade could bend to undo the latch, then passing through the gate and performing the process in reverse.

  The buyers watched open-mouthed while Molly’s heart swelled with pride. Cade was the ultimate advertisement for the cowboy life. That horse of his was so pretty, and judging from the way the woman’s eyes widened, she thought the man was pretty, too. Or luffly.

  The husband stayed put, but his wife made a beeline for Cade before he even finished with the gate. Cade looked a little alarmed even after he realized it was his horse she was after. Margo grabbed the animal’s bridle with both hands, and Molly froze. She was scared to ride—horses were so big, especially their teeth and feet—but at least she knew the safety rules. Quick moves and jerking their heads were the first two deadly sins.

  “Oh, I luff you!” Margo darted her face toward Pride’s nose. She was apparently trying to kiss him, but judging from the way the horse jerked away, he thought she was striking like a snake. Cade soothed him with a word, so the woman lived to be foolish another day.

  She didn’t waste any time. Wrapping her hands around Pride’s neck, she tugged his head down and kissed the whorl in the middle of his forehead. The horse nearly clipped her chin as he jerked his head up.

  “He is so sweet.” She stroked Pride’s neck, since his head, lifted high and grimacing with fear, was now out of reach. “This is an Arabian, yes? We might raise them iff we buy here.” She gave Cade a stunning smile. “Iss he for sale?”

  “No, ma’am, he’s not.” Cade touched the brim of his hat and nodded politely. “But Mr. Bailey can probably help you find some fine horses. He’s as good a judge of conformation and temperament as you’ll find ’round here.”

  “I am interested in pedigree,” she said. “He is from Spain, yes?”

  “No, ma’am, he’s Egyptian. Fadjur on his dam’s side.”

  “Well, he’s luffly.” The woman started to step back, but one of her bracelets had tangled in the horse’s mane. Pride jerked his head skyward, pawed the ground, and reared, nearly lifting her off her feet before she fell flat on her backside.

  Cade kept his seat somehow as the horse nearly keeled over backward, then landed hard on his front hooves inches from where the woman sat wide-eyed in the dirt. Kicking up his heels, he did his best to dump Cade off the front. The move would have worked on most cowboys, but Cade put on a show of horsemanship that had his audience drop-jawed with admiration as he spun the animal to focus him and calm his twitching nerves.

  “So spirited,” Margo said. “Are you sure you will not sell him?” She turned to her husband, who’d gone slightly pale, and gave him a sad-eyed look. “He is just what I want, honey.”

  “Well, now, he might be a bit too spirited,” the Dude said. “But then again, you’re a spirited woman.”

  Molly could tell Cade was gritting his teeth as he dismounted. He took a deep breath, his eyes on the so-called spirited woman. Although he was the most even-tempered man Molly knew, he was protective of his horses, and she was sure he had something to say.

  Val apparently knew that, too, and stepped in front of her clients. “Why don’t you two check out the stables while I talk to Cade a minute, okay?”

  The Dude had helped Margo to her feet, and the two of them disappeared into the barn. Watching them go, Cade stroked Pride’s neck and spoke softly to the horse, who relaxed bit by bit.

  Val turned with a grin that reminded Molly it was Shark Week on TLC. “Sorry, but this couple is hot, hot, hot. Normally, we like the owners to be gone when we do a showing, but Margo was dying to meet some real ranchers, and I think they’ll like you folks. Make nice, because they’re loaded, primed, and ready to buy.”

  Molly shook her head. “Seriously? The Dude and Dudette think they can run this place?”

  Val smothered a smile. “This is what we get these days—dot com millionaires and media moguls. You think an honest-to-God cowboy can afford a spread like this?”

  Heck emerged from the house, blinking from a nap and looking every inch an honest-to-God cowboy in his battered hat and rumpled shirt. His boots were scuffed, and Molly noticed some horse leavings on one heel. She’d have to clean the floors. Again. She wasn’t sure why that made her smile, but it did.

  “Mr. Bailey.” Val turned on the charm. “I’m Val Hadley, your real estate agent. I specialize in properties like this.” She waved toward the buyers. “That’s why this couple sought me out when they started looking for a ranch.”

  “Well, isn’t that fine.” Heck smiled down at Val, and Molly couldn’t help feeling proud of the courtly way he took her hand. A lot of people didn’t realize how old-fashioned and polite real ranchers were.

  “It’s a big place,” Val said. “You probably know buyers for ranches like this are scarce as…as…”

  “
As balls on a heifer.” Somehow, Heck managed to stay courtly in spite of the ranch-raised metaphor. “I sure do, and I appreciate the effort you’ve put into this. But I thought you’d want us to fix the place up first. Jess has been working hard, but we’ve got a ways to go.” He tapped his incision gingerly. “I’ve had a little heart trouble, but I’ll be able to pitch in and help in a couple days.”

  “Yeah, there’s a lot to do,” Val said. “That sign, for example.” She frowned. “I told Jess it had to go, but it’s still there. Margo really turned up her nose at it.”

  “My son painted that sign,” Heck said. “He’s in Afghanistan.”

  “Oh.” Molly had never seen Val speechless before, but after a couple of gulps for air, she managed a smile. “Well, anyway, it’s mostly the land we’re selling. That alone, without the house being considered at all, will net you two million dollars, at least. I’ll work up a market analysis for you and get a firm figure. I know it’s irregular, showing it first, but like I said—hot, hot, hot.”

  As the couple joined them, Val nodded toward Cade. “This young man’s going to saddle up some horses for you so he can show you around.”

  “Ooh, wonderful. I shall ride that one.” Beaming, the Dudette jabbed a finger at Pride so suddenly, the horse shied again.

  Cade stilled the animal with a touch. “He’s not ready for that, ma’am, but Heck’ll find you something better. Right?”

  “Sure thing.” Heck led the couple into the barn.

  “You okay?” Molly asked Cade. “I was worried if the horse didn’t kill the Dudette, you would.”

  “Naw, I’ve handled worse.” He grinned. “Remember, I worked at that summer camp a couple times.”

  “And the kids were worse than that?” Molly asked.

  Cade thinned his lips to a grim line. “No, not really. But I’ll handle it.”

  “I know you will.” Molly grinned. “You’re so luffly.”