The Cowboy’s Family
Carolyne Aarsen
Introduction
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The Cowboy’s Family
978-1-988660-05-9
Copyright © 2019 by Carolyne Aarsen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Chapter 1
This couldn’t be the right road.
Mason Harding checked the directions on his cell phone, then glanced again at the wooden sign hanging crookedly on a white post. Someone had painted the words Tall Timber Ranch on the post with an arrow below them pointing west, but they were barely legible, they were so faded.
Mason frowned. His boss had led him to believe the Tall Timber Ranch was a going concern, well able to afford the horse training fees that Mason would charge the owners Zach and Kane Tye.
The battered sign, listing to one side, was hardly encouraging. But he had to trust Roger was right. He usually was.
Mason wasn’t visiting the ranch today, however. Just checking out the directions so he could arrive on time tomorrow morning. His first official day on the job.
Mason followed the sign, the curving road lined by spruce and poplar trees. It made a sharp turn then crested a hill.
The trees gave way and the land opened up in front of him. He slowed his truck to get a better look, gave in, and stopped. The stunning view required his full attention.
Velvety green hills rolled down to a river, then, beyond that rippled toward the imposing gray mountains, their craggy peaks outlined with snow etched against a bluebird sky. White puffs of cloud drifting through the sky sent shadows chasing over pastures dotted with the reddish-brown bodies of Angus cows. The Tall Timber cows, he assumed.
Mason rested his hands on the steering wheel, allowing the pastoral scene to ease the disquiet that had plagued him the past few miles. Could he really do what Roger asked of him?
He pulled over to the side, quieted the country music twanging out of the radio, and turned off the truck, hoping to still his doubting thoughts.
Silence, broken only by a breeze teasing the trees and grass lining the road, flowed over him, a welcome respite from the drone of the diesel engine that had assaulted his ears since he left Sweet Creek six hours ago.
Easing out a long sigh he climbed down from the truck, walked to the front, and leaned against the warm hood, letting his eyes take in the beauty of the landscape. He had time, and he needed these few moments to settle the unease in his soul. Remind himself that he was doing the right thing. Namely, training the string of horses Zach Tye purchased last fall. Mason lived for working with horses, something he did a lot of for Roger. Now his boss owned six perfectly trained horses that, like all the horses Mason had trained for Roger before, were now for sale.
Mason shoved his frustration aside. What Roger did with his horses was none of Mason’s business. He and his family owed Roger more than Mason could ever repay.
It was thanks to Roger that Mason got a start in horse training, which he then parlayed into a career, which netted him this job at the Tall Timber Ranch.
But the job wasn’t the only reason he was here. Hence, his apprehension.
Roger is right to ask you to do this for him. You need to find out for sure. He has every right to know.
“It’s what you should do,” he murmured aloud, as if that made it truer.
“Gorgeous view, isn’t it?”
Mason spun around, scanning the area, his heart jumping like a jackhammer.
A woman rose out of the grass in the ditch, hobbling up the incline to the gravel road. She wore blue jeans and a plaid shirt over a white tank top, her wavy blonde hair pulled up in a messy topknot.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I come in peace and carrying blueberries.” She shot him a playful grin as she held up a small white pail.
Mason relaxed his posture, feeling foolish at being caught talking to himself.
“So I’m guessing you’re headed to Tall Timber Ranch,” she said, limping toward him. “Maybe you can give me a ride.” She held up a broken sandal, grinning. “Not the best footwear for picking blueberries.”
“Should you be taking rides from strangers?” he asked, a faint teasing tone entering his voice. He surprised himself at his reaction to her. It had been three years since he’d been the least bit attracted to a woman.
She answered with a slow shrug. “This is a dead-end road. The only reason you’d be on it is if you’re heading to the ranch.” Then she gave him a frown. “Unless you made a wrong turn, that is.”
He held her curious gaze, a jolt of awareness sending his heart rate up just enough to make him smile. She had a casual beauty and seemed unaware of it.
“No. No wrong turn,” he said, leaning back against the hood. “But I hadn’t figured on going to the ranch today.”
“That’s too bad. Guess I’ll have to walk.”
“How far is it yet?”
“Not far for a truck. Too far for a damsel in distress.” Her lips curved in a smile that made his own deepen.
She was flirting with him and, he had to admit, he didn’t mind.
“How did you break your sandal?” he asked, unwilling to quit the conversation.
“Took a wrong step down a bank. I had my eye on an excellent patch of blueberries and twisted my foot.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Sort of.” She flashed him another brilliant smile, which he reciprocated. “But I got the blueberries I wanted.”
“That’s important.”
Their eyes held as a connection flashed between them. Sure she was pretty, but he had never felt this instant bond with any woman before.
Careful, mister. You’re not here to flirt with the hired help.
“My name is Mason, by the way,” he said, injecting a reserved tone into his voice. “I’ll be working at the ranch come tomorrow.” He reached out his hand to shake hers.
She took it, her smile deepening. “So you’re the horse trainer?”
Her hand was small, warm, and soft, and as it tightened on his, as his eyes held hers, he felt a quiver of attraction.
“I am.”
“Excellent. Now you’re not a stranger anymore, and you can take me to the ranch.” Before he could say anything or do anything to help, she hobbled around the front of the truck, wincing as she climbed in while Mason was still trying to figure out what had just happened. Then with a shrug, he got in the truck as well.
Probably wouldn’t hurt to check things out this evening.
He started the engine then pulled back onto the road.
“My dad is pretty pleased he got you,” the woman said as she shifted in her seat. “Said it’s hard to get a certified Tyler Dimson trainer.”
He frowned as her words registered. “Your dad?” He glanced at her, puzzled.
“Yeah. Zach Tye. I’m his daughter, Tricia.”
He shook his head as her name settled, creating a wrench in his gut, his heart flipping into overdrive.
Tricia Tye.
Also known as Tricia Bouche.
The woman, his boss, Roger Bouche wanted him to keep an eye on.
And just like that his smile faded, rep
laced by a deep frown accentuated by his dark eyebrows.
Had she met him before? What could she have said that would make him look so upset? Just seconds ago he seemed to be flirting with her, but now he had pulled back.
Too bad. He was ruggedly good-looking.
And you know better than to get pulled into that.
She sighed, adjusting her position on the seat. She had pushed herself too hard picking blueberries and would pay for that with extra-strength painkillers tomorrow.
And now she sat in the truck of the man her father hired to train her horses.
When her father mentioned asking a trainer to work with her on the horses she had imagined an older, tobacco-chewing cowboy with bow legs and a few missing teeth. Which was exactly what Trig Mulligan, the trainer she had originally contacted, looked like.
Mason had all his teeth and nary a bend in his long, lean legs.
And he was way too good-looking for his own good.
“The ranch is about two miles down the road,” she said, setting her berry bucket on the floor of the truck and pulling off her other sandal, wincing as she did so. Though it had been three weeks since she ended up in the hospital after being knocked around by her very ex-boyfriend, her ribs still hurt, as did her arm. The pain would go away someday, and with it, hopefully, the humiliation of the physical and mental abuse Perry had heaped on her.
Hopefully.
She set her sandals on the seat beside her then buckled up, taking a deep breath, the pain in her chest reminding her of the two main reasons she had to keep her distance from this guy.
Hope and Cash.
Her children. She had come so close to putting them in genuine danger when she was dating Perry that it could still make her quiver inside.
Clearly she didn’t learn. No sooner does a good-looking guy show up, flirting with her, and she responds. Well, that won’t happen again.
“So do you usually head out this far to go berry picking?” he asked, glancing at the sandal lying on the seat.
“I had the evening off and took advantage of it.”
“Off? From what?”
He sounded puzzled.
“I’ve been doing some groundwork with one of the horses you’ll be training. I needed a break from that and my kids.” She leaned back in the seat, shooting him a quick look.
This elicited another frown. “Kids? Are you talking about—” He stopped, clamping his lips together as if holding back. He glanced ahead, his expression unreadable. His mouth was tight-closed and his eyes narrowed. Again he looked angry, and Tricia fought down a tremor of alarm.
“You seem upset. Should I get you to stop the truck so I can get out?” No way was she putting herself in harm’s way again.
He shot her a frown. “No. Sorry. I’m just… I understood I would be working with green horses,” he continued.
Okay. She guessed that was legit. Horse trainers could be pretty territorial.
“Not all of them are totally untrained. My dad tried to start one and got bucked off for his troubles.” She shook her head at the memory of her father’s injury and struggled, once again, to ease off the attendant guilt it caused.
Zach Tye had been all alone on the ranch when Cusco had reared and tossed him into the corral fencing, breaking his leg and injuring his ribs. Her brothers were all gone. Kane had been working an oil field, Lucas was in Afghanistan fighting insurgents, Elliot was off chasing his rodeo dreams, and she’d been patching together her very ragged life.
She tugged the cuff of her shirt further down, covering the fading bruise on her arm, a reminder of that life.
“I hope no one has been trying to ride them since?” He sounded gruff, and Tricia sensed he wasn’t happy.
“Of course not. All the rest have been out in the pasture after Dad got hurt. I took the one he was working with to see if I could do something with it.” It was hard to keep the snap out of her voice. Her father had sold her the horses on credit when she came back to the ranch and put her in charge of the training. She hoped to get them up to snuff, sell them, pay her father back, and use the rest of the money to finance a new life away from Tall Timber and Rockyview.
However, she knew she needed help so she had contacted Trig, a well-known horse trainer who regularly ran clinics and was known for his uncanny skill with horses. But Trig was busy and said he would put the word out in the horse community.
She hadn’t heard anything for a couple of weeks. Then, yesterday, her father got a call. Trig had heard from a friend of a friend of a guy looking for work. The network had done its job.
And here was Mason.
“Good. It can be more work to break a poorly trained horse of bad habits than to start with a completely green animal.”
“I’ve been around horses most of my life,” Tricia returned, her back getting up at his patronizing attitude. “I know a few things about how to work with them.”
Mason just shrugged, which was almost as annoying as his words.
Better to say nothing more. The initial attraction she had felt for him was fading with every comment he made.
Thankfully, a minute later they were heading down the winding driveway lined with trees and then, once again out into the open.
Though she had been home for almost a month, Tricia still experienced a sense of homecoming when Mason stopped. Picking up her sandals, she got out of the truck, the paved drive warm under her bare feet. The house stood on a hill overlooking the valley, the mountains like old friends, rising up on the other side of the river.
And, even better, the flowerbeds that had been badly neglected after her mother died had been rejuvenated thanks to Faith, her brother’s fiancée. Now they spilled with bright color, softening the massive timbered entrance of the house and large double doors it framed.
Mason stood by the door of the truck, hesitating, as if unsure where to go.
Tricia caught him looking at the house, with its imposing roofline, her mind skipping back to times friends of hers would see the house for the first time.
The squared timber walls soared two stories high with a row of dormers breaking the cedar shake roofline. When her parents built it they had figured on filling it with babies, hence the size. However, she’d been the only biological child born to Grace and Zach Tye.
So they took in other children. Kane, whom they adopted, and Lucas and Elliot, whom they couldn’t adopt but who became their permanent wards.
“That’s quite the house,” he said with a note of awe.
“Don’t let the imposing size fool you. It’s also very cozy,” she said, a flip tone in her words. He had gotten her back up with his earlier patronizing attitude. “Just come this way." She limped along the pebbled sidewalk that wound around the side, clutching her sandals. “We never use the front door.”
She didn’t look back, but she heard his booted feet behind her, so she guessed he was following.
The sidewalk curved around the house to the steps of a large covered wooden deck. They climbed the steps, crossed the deck, and entered the house through the double French doors.
Her father and her children sat at the dining room table. It looked like they were working on a puzzle. She thought they would be in bed already.
“Hey, guys,” she called out as she came into the kitchen. “Mommy’s home.”
Cash glanced up and gave her a vague smile, then turned his attention back to the puzzle.
Hope ignored her.
Ever since she came back Hope had been distant. It was as if the little tyke was holding a grudge. And it stung.
“Where de berries?” Cash asked, examining a puzzle piece.
“In the truck.”
“Grandpa truck?” Hope asked, finally joining the conversation.
“No. The truck that belongs to this man.” She pointed to Mason, who stood behind her as Zach got to his feet.
But Mason wasn’t looking at Zach. He was staring at the children, a peculiar look on his face. As if trying to figure
out something about them. Then he pulled his gaze away and tugged his hat off as Zach came toward him.
“Dad, this is Mason, the horse trainer we hired,” Tricia said as Zach took his hand and shook it. “In case you think I routinely bring random men home with me.”
Zach shot her a warning glance and Tricia immediately regretted her snarky comment. Old habits, she thought, pulling in a breath to center herself, remind herself what her father had done for her the past few months. Just like her friends in her Bible study group always told her to do.
“Welcome to Tall Timber,” Zach said, shaking Mason’s hand. “We didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
“Yes. Sorry. I was just making sure I knew the way, and I happened upon Tricia…your daughter. She broke her sandal, so I said I would give her a ride.”
“Thanks for that,” Zach said, giving Tricia a sideways look. “She does get herself into scrapes.”
Tricia forced herself to keep her chin up. Not to put more weight in her father’s words than he meant.
“Trig speaks highly of you,” Zach continued. “Said you were one of two Tyler Dimson certified trainers in Alberta. That’s some tall order to fill. He’s the best of the best.”
“I doubt I’ll ever be up to Tyler’s standards, but I think I can hold my own.” Mason’s smile once again transformed his face, but Tricia hardened herself to its charm. Her priority was her children, and she needed to remember that.
“You’ll need to do that for sure,” Zach said. “We’ve got a string of pretty green horses.”
“Not totally green,” Tricia protested, feeling she needed to remind her father that though she wasn’t exactly a certified trainer like this Mason guy was, she knew a thing or two about training horses.
“I want berries,” Hope demanded as she slid off her chair.
“We can get them.” Tricia smiled down at Hope, but her daughter ignored her. It was as if Hope hadn’t yet found it in her heart to forgive her mother for what happened to them.
Whenever she thought of what Perry had done and how close she had come to making him a part of hers and her children’s lives, her heart contracted and guilt washed over her in a relentless wave.
The Cowboy's Family (Family Ties Book 2) Page 1
