Cowboy Summer

by Joanne Kennedy

  “I did trust you.” Crying probably made him think she was sad or sorry, but that made her madder, which made her cry harder. “I made up my mind to believe you about Amber Lynn, because that’s how we are. We don’t lie to each other. We don’t cheat.”

  “Exactly.” He smiled gently, as if encouraging a fractious child. “So don’t you have something to say?”

  She kicked viciously at a rock, which skittered across the hard-packed dirt and hit the house with a satisfying thunk. “Why bother? You wouldn’t believe me anyway. You’re the one who decides what reality is, and I don’t have a say.”

  Striding into the house, she slammed the door.

  They were done.

  * * *

  Cade stared at the door that had just slammed behind Jess.

  What the hell had just happened? He felt like he’d ridden a roller coaster to nirvana, one that chugged up, up, up to the heavens and then slammed him back down to earth. It happened over and over, and he was tired. Jess just wasn’t ready for a relationship, and maybe she never would be. He knew she’d been behind the pranks, and it was ridiculous that she wouldn’t admit it.

  He needed to get off the roller coaster and stand on solid ground. Go back to his original plan, and concentrate on his business.

  Patting his thigh, he gave Boogy a soft whistle and headed for his truck. As always, the dog rode shotgun, grinning and panting. Boogy loved truck riding. Maybe Cade should be more like that, taking pleasure in simple things.

  Stopping at the rusty mailbox at the foot of his driveway, he pulled out several days’ worth of junk mail. Flipping through the stack, he tossed advertising circulars and mail order catalogs on the floor.

  “Junk, junk, junk, bill, junk, junk—whoa.”

  He stared down at the last envelope. It bore a graphic logo in the corner that represented a running horse with a few simple lines. The envelope was heavy stock, and when he opened it, it contained a letter on equally classy paper.

  The letter was from John Baker.

  No doubt the trainer was rescinding the offer, wondering why Cade hadn’t even had the decency to write back. Scanning the note, he braced himself for disappointment—but wait.

  Wait.

  He started at the beginning again, and a mounting excitement dizzied him as he stared through the windshield.

  It wasn’t a kiss-off letter. It was another offer, higher than the last, along with a brochure showing the Baker Equine Center. It was a ranch straight out of Cade’s dreams, with heated stalls, indoor arenas, and a tack room piled floor-to-ceiling with high-end saddles, bits, and bridles.

  Letting the letter fall to his lap, Cade shifted gears in his brain, from loving Jess to dedicating himself to his work. Baker was famous for overworking his clinicians, and eighteen-hour days in the stables and the round pen would occupy his mind and heal his heart. He’d lose himself in one horse after another, and maybe the brand Jess had burned on his heart would start to heal.

  It would never go away altogether, but it would hurt a whole lot less.

  Chapter 46

  Heck squinted down at two almost identical plumbing fittings and wished he’d had the sense to bring the broken parts from his irrigator with him to the hardware store. A lifetime of penny-pinching had made it hard for him to spend an extra buck if he didn’t have to, but he’d have to buy both and return one.

  Dad blast it, he’d spend any amount to get Molly flowers, and while plumbing fittings were hardly romantic, keeping the ranch going was part of taking care of her. He needed to get the place sold, get his wife the home she wanted.

  Too bad that wasn’t the same as what he wanted. He’d told Molls what she needed to hear, but when that fat man had ogled the Diamond Jack like he already owned it, Heck had felt a pang of regret so sharp, he’d thought his heart was acting up again.

  But Jess was up and down with poor Cade, and if she couldn’t commit to a man, he doubted she’d stick with cattle. A ranch would break her heart a hundred times, with droughts that starved the livestock and hail that wrecked the crops, summer heat that seared the soil bone-dry and winter snows that made the cows pile up at the fence lines and freeze. He wasn’t sure she could handle it, and nobody could handle it alone.

  Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn’t notice Riley James peering into his basket.

  “You got a Zimmatic irrigator on your place?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Reinke.”

  “That’s what I thought. You won’t be needing this, then.” Plucking one of the fittings from his basket, she returned it to the shelf and gave him a lopsided grin. “You’re welcome.”

  “Thanks.”

  Riley Sue James was a peculiar little thing, but she was smart. Ethereal as a ballerina in holey jeans and a tank top, with tattoos all down one arm, she looked as out of place in the hardware store as the Sugar Plum Fairy at a Superfund site, but she could fix just about anything.

  “How the bejesus do you know this stuff?” he asked. “There must be a thousand little pieces here, and I swear, you know where every one of ’em goes.”

  “It’s my job.” She shrugged. “Ed taught me a lot, plus he works here in the afternoons so I can take on outside projects around town. That’s how I learn. I like home renovation jobs best, but I’ve fixed some irrigation rigs.”

  He stepped up to the counter. “What do I owe you?”

  “Two dollars and eleven cents.”

  Rummaging in his pocket, he found three crumpled bills. Riley rang up the sale, then flipped back a lock of silver-blond hair and cocked a hip against the counter.

  “Heard you’re selling the place.”

  “Couple from California made an offer.” He sighed. “You’ll probably have to help them with their irrigators, too, and just about everything else. They’re fancified folks, worked in the media business. Don’t know a cow’s ass from a combine.”

  “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “Sure it does, but life goes on.” He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking. “My health isn’t what it used to be, and Molly can’t run the place.”

  “What about your son?”

  “Griff never took to ranching. He’s raiding terrorist training camps in Afghanistan, last I heard.”

  Keeping his hands in his pockets, Heck clenched both fists hard. His brain felt like a terrorist camp lately, with rebel memories ambushing him from every side. Time to change the subject.

  “Hey, you hear about our porch falling down?”

  “Yeah, Cade called me, and Jess stopped in earlier. I told her I’d take the job.”

  “Good.”

  He’d heard the rumors—that Riley had been involved with drugs, booze, even sex addiction—but what mattered was she’d gotten over it and had a fine reputation for home repairs. Heck believed everyone deserved a second chance.

  Danged if he wouldn’t like a few himself. Especially with Griff.

  “I’ll be out to take a look at it,” Riley said. “How did it fall down?”

  Heck kicked at the floor, scuffing the old pine boards. “We’re pretty sure somebody pulled out a screw here, loosened a bolt there.”

  “Why would anybody do that?”

  “Trying to stop the sale, I guess.”

  She wrinkled her forehead, thinking. “You think it was Cade, trying to keep Jess around?”

  “More likely Jess herself. She’s not ready to let go.”

  “Jess isn’t like that.” Riley sounded awfully sure. “If she wants something, she comes right out and takes it.” Another cockeyed grin made her look surprisingly girlish. “I mean that in a good way.”

  He smiled back, warming to the girl. “Seems to me you’re the same kind.”

  “I guess I am. Wasn’t always, though.” She turned away, fooling with the blank key forms that hung
on a turntable next to an ancient duplicating lathe, then glanced up with a speculative light in her eyes. “You must be real proud of Griff,” she said.

  “Sure.”

  Actually, it hadn’t occurred to Heck to be much more than mad at the boy. Griff was the reason Heck was in this mess; if he hadn’t run off, he’d be home taking care of the ranch, and Heck wouldn’t have to sell. “I’m proud of him. But I miss him.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You?” Heck regretted his tone as soon as the words left his mouth. “I mean, I didn’t know you even knew him. He never mentioned…aw, shoot. I’m messing this up. I just didn’t know you two were friends.” He flushed. “There’s a lot I don’t know about Griff.”

  “It’s okay,” Riley said. “I didn’t know him that well. Just met him at some parties out at the quarry.”

  Heck knew about those parties. Young folks gathered there to drink and probably do drugs. The sheriff rounded them up once in a while, called their parents. Griff had never come home in a patrol car, so Heck had convinced himself his son was a straight arrow.

  So much for that.

  “He used to talk about how he wanted to go overseas, see the world. Save it, I guess.” A faint blush colored her cheeks. “I thought he was brave, going after his dreams like that. This town’s so small, and he never lived anywhere else.” Shaking open a small bag, she dropped the parts inside. “Sounds corny, I guess, but most people don’t have the guts.”

  “Guess I never gave much thought to what Griff wanted.” He looked down at his boots, embarrassed. “Always thought ranching offered a big enough world for any man—the cows, the clouds, the canyons…” He turned away. “I’ll let him know you asked about him when I write him.”

  “Oh, that’s okay.” Her voice, low and husky, broke like a teenage boy’s. “I found an app where you can text soldiers overseas, so he knows.”

  She was blushing again, and Heck wondered if Griff had ever noticed how pretty she was. If you could get past those tattoos, there was a strange beauty underneath and an unexpected sweetness.

  “I think he’s a good guy, that’s all,” she said. “I figured a soldier might need a note now and then.” She turned back to the key machine, touching the blanks absently. “It’s stupid, I guess. I barely knew him. Lots of times, he doesn’t message me back.”

  “It’s not stupid,” Heck said. “It’s kind of you. But he doesn’t write back to me, either, so don’t take it personal. You keep writing him, or typing him, or whatever it is you kids do.” He huffed out a little laugh. “Maybe you can talk him into coming home sometime.”

  “I doubt it. I think he’s gone for good.” She caught herself, too late, and waved her hands as if she could erase the words in the air before they reached his ears. “Not necessarily, though! I’m sure he’ll come back. Yeah, of course. You’re his dad, and he loves you.”

  “Did he say that?”

  Heck knew the question made him sound pitiful. But although he’d thought he was still mad at Griff, it turned out he was hungry for every word the boy might have said.

  “He never said it right out, but that doesn’t mean sh—anything.” She let out an awkward laugh that was a little too loud. “He’s not exactly the emotional type, you know? And hey, if you move, he might be more likely to come. He never liked the cow thing much.”

  This time, she looked like she wanted to swallow the words, but Heck felt like she’d thrown him a lifeline, because she was right. Griff hadn’t liked “the cow thing,” and he was probably afraid his dad would start pressuring him to take over as soon as he came home. If there was no ranch—well, maybe things would go better. It felt like a consolation prize, but it was the only light in a dark sky. He’d take it and be grateful.

  “You’ve got a point.” He knew he should just shut up, but it had been a long time since he had a line to Griff, and he was reluctant to let it go. “The Diamond Jack’s been home all my life, but now, that’s wherever the kids are.” He shook his head slowly as the truth rose in his mind, so obvious, yet somehow hidden for so long. “All my life, I’ve been focused on the land, but it’s family that matters. Put me in a trailer on the backside of town, and I’ll be fine, long as my family’s there.”

  He realized, a little too late, he was talking to a woman who didn’t have a family of her own. But she smiled, dismissing his embarrassment.

  “I know just how you feel,” she said. “Me and Ed, we’re family now. He’s like the dad I never had.”

  “Well, that’s mighty nice for him,” Heck said. “He and Ruthie always wanted that, and she’d be pleased. You take care, now.”

  “You, too. And hey, I could show you that app if you want. I bet Griff would be glad to hear from you.”

  Heck could only nod in answer. The bells on the door jangled as he closed it behind him, and he hustled down the sidewalk, praying the ache in his throat wouldn’t explode with some sort of embarrassing outburst before he made it to his truck.

  Chapter 47

  Jess walked into the bank with a knot in her stomach, a catch in her throat, and a throbbing ache behind her right eye. She’d promised to move some money from the ranch account into her dad’s personal savings, in case he and Molly decided to put a down payment on a place at Shady Acres.

  She didn’t see why Heck couldn’t do it himself, since he’d insisted on driving her into town despite the fact that she was over her head injury, but Molly had wanted her to go to the bank while her dad shopped at the hardware store. It wasn’t like Molly asked for a lot of favors, so Jess figured she’d put on her big-girl jeans and go.

  She’d rather put on one of the big-girl business suits that hung in her closet in Denver before taking a chance on running into Amber Lynn Lyle. Jess’s suits were her armor, a costume that let her pose as somebody other than her ordinary, countrified self. But she hadn’t figured on needing them this trip, so they hung neatly in the closet back in her apartment, awaiting her return.

  Looking down at her holey jeans and loose cotton shirt, she felt the knot in her stomach turn into a whole darn macramé project. Amber Lynn, no doubt, would be dressed like a cross between a high-priced lawyer and a streetwalker.

  She glanced up at the bank’s lighted sign as she walked inside.

  Wynott Bank and Trust.

  Hey, maybe she could buy herself some trust. A big dose of it, as a present for Cade. He didn’t seem to have enough of it, for some reason.

  Shifting from one foot to the other, she glanced around, hoping to avoid Amber Lynn. Her nemesis was nowhere in sight. When the single teller on duty finished with a grizzled rancher, she motioned for Jess to step up.

  “I need to move some money around.” Jess fished for her ID in her purse while she rattled off the ranch’s account number.

  “I’ll take care of this,” said a familiar voice.

  Jess looked up from her purse and felt the blood drain from her face.

  “Hi,” said Amber Lynn. “Welcome to Wynott Bank and Trust.”

  She was dressed in a black pencil skirt that was a little too short for business wear, but Jess doubted the men who frequented the bank minded that one bit. A stylish matching jacket was pinched at the waist, emphasizing Amber Lynn’s hourglass figure, and a pair of four-inch heels completed the outfit. She looked put together and poised, if a little too sexy for serious work. Jess felt like a Hereford cow standing next to a Thoroughbred.

  “Sorry.” She started to turn around. “Changed my mind.”

  “Oh no. Please, Jess, don’t go. This is my job. My dad’ll be mad if you leave just because it’s me. Besides, I’ve changed. Just ask Molly.”

  “Molly?”

  “Sure. She’s helping me turn over a new leaf.”

  Jess felt the betrayal like a punch to her solar plexus. Everyone was taking Amber Lynn’s side—first Cade, now her stepmother.

/>   “I confess, okay? I set this up because you and I need to talk,” Amber Lynn said. “Molly helped, because she knows there are things I need to say.”

  Jess groaned. Amber Lynn hadn’t just duped Molly into taking her side; she’d schemed to force Jess into a confrontation. Now she’d dole out some insincere apology, declare her intention to remarry Cade, and make Jess look ungracious for slapping her across the face—which Jess most sincerely wanted to do.

  “Come into my office.” Lifting a hinged section of countertop, Amber Lynn headed down a white-walled hall, gesturing for Jess to follow. Jess started to balk, then noticed the bank had filled up. It was lunchtime, and six people now stood in line. Six pairs of eyes were watching Jess’s every move, while six sets of ears listened in on the conversation. Every word she said would be all over town in five minutes.

  She followed Amber Lynn down a narrow hallway to a plain, undecorated office. Cade’s ex fluttered around, brushing invisible crumbs from the seat of a plastic chair, gesturing for Jess to sit down.

  Jess sat but slowly, her mind racing with escape plans.

  Knock her down and make a run for it. Holler “Fire!” and skedaddle. Fake illness. Better yet, just slap her smug mug and run like hell.

  Unfortunately, Amber Lynn’s father wielded a lot of power in Wynott. Jess needed to keep this meeting on a professional footing.

  “Your stepmom’s nice.” Standing behind a faux wood desk, Amber Lynn twisted one toe into the deep pile carpet, looking sheepish. “She’s letting me rent her trailer until I find a place of my own.”

  Jess nodded, pressing her lips into something like a smile.

  “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but we really need to.”

  “Right.”

  Jess loaded the word with sarcasm, but Amber Lynn didn’t seem to notice. In fact, Cade’s ex looked a little pale herself. Maybe she knew Jess was going to find a way to prove she’d done all that mischief at the Diamond Jack. Maybe she knew Jess was going to somehow force a confession out of her, right then and there. Jess would prove her innocence to Cade and everyone else—and her father would know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she cared about the ranch as much as he did.