Meant to Be My Cowboy

by R. C. Ryan

  “And I’m crazy about a woman so tenderhearted she helped care for wounded pelicans, but when cornered, knows how to fight.”

  They were smiling as they descended the stairs. Annie thought again about the danger that had caused her to travel far from the comfort of the only home she’d ever known. She’d felt so alone and afraid when she’d first arrived. It didn’t seem possible that here, so far from all that was familiar, she could find so much joy and discover the great love of her life.

  And all because of this handsome cowboy who’d brought her face-to-face with mustangs and cougars, and an inner courage she hadn’t known she possessed.

  Along the way he’d claimed her heart and changed her life forever.

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  About the Author

  New York Times bestselling author R.C. Ryan has written more than a hundred novels, both contemporary and historical. Quite an accomplishment for someone who, after her fifth child started school, gave herself the gift of an hour a day to follow her dream to become a writer.

  In a career spanning more than thirty years, Ms. Ryan has given dozens of radio, television, and print interviews across the country and Canada, and has been quoted in such diverse publications as the Wall Street Journal and Cosmopolitan. She has also appeared on CNN and Good Morning America.

  You can learn more about R.C. Ryan—and her alter ego, Ruth Ryan Langan—at:

  RyanLangan.com

  Twitter @RuthRyanLangan

  Facebook.com

  Also by R.C. Ryan

  Wranglers of Wyoming

  My Kind of Cowboy

  This Cowboy of Mine

  Meant to Be My Cowboy

  Montana Strong

  Cowboy on My Mind

  The Cowboy Next Door

  Born to Be a Cowboy

  The Malloys of Montana

  Matt

  Luke

  A Cowboy’s Christmas Eve (available as an e-novella)

  Reed

  Copper Creek Cowboys

  The Maverick

  of Copper Creek

  The Rebel

  of Copper Creek

  The Legacy

  of Copper Creek

  Wyoming Sky

  Quinn

  Josh

  Jake

  The McCords

  Montana Legacy

  Montana Destiny

  Montana Glory

  RAVES FOR R.C. RYAN’S NOVELS

  THIS COWBOY OF MINE

  “R.C. Ryan is a master of conversation and in This Cowboy of Mine, the characters are heartwarming, flawed, filled with sass and humor. I hope there are new fans just waiting to discover this prolific and entertaining author.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Ryan excels at developing family-driven westerns set in gorgeous locations.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Full of suspense, discovery, and of course, that happy ending we all crave.”

  —Keeper Bookshelf

  MY KIND OF COWBOY

  “Ryan’s gorgeous descriptions of ranch country and the Grand Tetons add escapist pleasure to this family-centric romance…Readers are sure to be swept away.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  BORN TO BE A COWBOY

  “Readers who prefer their Westerns with a dash of suspense will find this latest from Ryan an ideal choice. The action and danger ramp up from the beginning and never let down.”

  —Library Journal

  “Smooth like good whiskey.”

  —Keeper Bookshelf

  THE COWBOY NEXT DOOR

  “Satisfying…This sweetly domestic story should win Ryan many new fans.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “The Cowboy Next Door is a work of art.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  COWBOY ON MY MIND

  “A strong, protective hero and an independent heroine fight for their future in this modern rough-and-tumble Western.”

  —Library Journal

  “This talented writer…invites you to join a little journey that has you biting at the bit for more.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  REED

  “4 stars! Ryan’s latest book in her Malloys of Montana series contains a heartwarming plot filled with down-to-earth cowboys and warm, memorable characters. Reed and Ally are engaging and endearing, and their sweet, fiery chemistry heats up the pages, which will leave readers’ hearts melting…A delightful read.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  LUKE

  “Ryan creates vivid characters against the lovingly rendered backdrop of sweeping Montana ranchlands. The passion between Ryan’s protagonists, which they keep discreet, is tender and heartwarming. The plot is drawn in broad strokes, but Ryan expertly brings it to a satisfying conclusion.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  MATT

  “Ryan has created a gripping love story fraught with danger and lust, pain and sweet, sweet triumph.”

  —Library Journal, starred review

  Go back to the beginning of the Wranglers of Wyoming series with Brand and Avery’s love story in

  My Kind of Cowboy

  Chapter One

  Merrick Ranch—Wyoming. Spring, present day

  Hold on, Brand.” Ranch foreman Chet Doyle pulled his mount beside Brand’s and said in a whisper, “Look over there.”

  A band of mustangs melted into the woods and became invisible as two horses and riders crested the hill.

  “I see them.” Lifting his hat to wipe at the sweat that beaded his forehead, Brand nudged his horse forward.

  Ordinarily Brand’s vision would have sharpened at the slight movement of fresh green foliage, and he would have paused to watch the herd disappear. Everyone on the Merrick ranch shared his love of the herds of wild horses that roamed these hills. They were the favorite subject of his aunt’s photographs, featured in glossy wildlife magazines. The love of mustangs had been the motivating force behind Casey’s decision to become a veterinarian, and they were featured prominently in Jonah’s first bestselling novel. But it had been a particularly long day with the cattle in the high meadow, now lush with grass, and Brand was distracted by the pain pulsing down his leg. Even the beauty of the countryside, always such a thrill in springtime, failed to lift his spirits.

  Usually the sight of the Grand Tetons towering in the distance and the Merrick family ranch spread out below, spanning thousands of acres of spectacular hills and valleys, meadows and highlands, would be enough to have him grinning from ear to ear. Today, his handsome face was etched with pain.

  Seeing it, Chet fell silent. The rugged foreman, best friend to Bo and Liz since childhood, had been with the Merrick family long enough to read their various moods. And he’d watched Brand fighting this lingering pain ever since that fall from his mount.

  When the ranch buildings came into view, Brand’s horse, sensing food, lengthened its strides, adding to Brand’s torment.

  “I know you want this to end, Domino. So do I. But slow it, boy.” He pulled on the reins, and the horse fell back to a plodding walk.

  Back at the barn, Brand and Chet unsaddled their mounts and toweled the overheated animals before filling troughs with food and water.

  At the house, they paused in the mudroom to roll their sleeves and scrub away the dust of the trail before stepping into the kitchen, where they were greeted by the chorus of voices that had resounded through this house for a lifetime.

  “Took you long enough, boy.” Across the room, Hammond Merrick looked up from the tray of longnecks being passed by his granddaughter Liz. “We were getting ready to eat without you.”

  Liz shot a soothing smile at Chet and her nephew. “Don’t you believe a word of it. We knew you were on your way.”

  “Thanks.” Brand managed a smile before helping himself to a beer and tipping it up to take a long pull.
“You know you can always get started without us. After a day in the hills, even leftovers would be a feast.”

  Beside him, Chet nodded his agreement before quenching his thirst.

  Brand’s grandmother, Meg, touched a hand to her grandson’s arm. “Speaking of feasts, Billy made something special.” Her smile was radiant. “Your favorite. Pot roast with all the trimmings.”

  Brand arched a brow. “You usually ask Billy to make that when you’re about to hand me some bad news.” He gave her a steady look. “What’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?” Meg glanced at her husband, who was frowning.

  “Supper’s ready.” Billy Caldwell, cook for the Merrick family for twenty years, waited until the family had taken their places around the table before passing platters of roast beef, mashed potatoes, carrots and snap peas, and a salad of greens and tomatoes grown right in the little greenhouse alongside one of the barns. A basket of flaky rolls was placed in the center of the big table, along with cruets of balsamic vinegar and oil.

  With a chorus of praise for Billy’s hard work, the family spent the next few minutes holding the platters for one another until all their plates were filled.

  They paused.

  Hammond’s deep baritone intoned the words of the familiar blessing. “Bless all of us gathered here, and those no longer with us.”

  Brand noted the narrowing of his father’s eyes, the only sign of the pain he still suffered at the loss of his beloved Leigh. To this day, Bo was compulsive about checking the many fireplaces in their sprawling ranch house and seeing to it that every fire was banked before going to his bed.

  Seeing how his father poured himself into his work in order to overcome his feelings of helplessness, Brand grew up doing the same. And when age began to slow down the oldest members of their family, Brand smoothly took up the slack. Whether a sudden spring snowstorm or a late-summer range fire, Brand was always in the thick of the action.

  It was just such a storm that had Brand taking a nasty fall from his horse, crashing into a rock, splintering several bones in his right leg. Old Dr. Peterson, at the Devil’s Door Clinic, had sent Brand to a specialist in Casper, who used titanium rods and pins to repair the damage, before recommending six weeks of physical therapy. That had added precious time Brand was forced to spend away from the ranch, and after just four weeks, he’d come home.

  Over their meal, the men talked of the crops and the weather.

  Casey, freshly showered after a long day, buttered a roll. “With a wet spring like the one we’re having, I’m figuring we’ll have a long, hot summer.”

  Twenty-three-year-old Jonah, the youngest, was grinning. “I hope you’re right. The hotter the better.”

  Hammond’s stern face relaxed into a smile. “I can’t remember the last time the range grass was knee-high before June. This promises a good summer and a healthy herd.”

  “And a lot of smelly, sweaty laundry,” Billy muttered, bringing a round of laughter from the others.

  During a lull in the conversation, Brand turned to his grandmother. “I take it you’re saving whatever bad news you have until dessert, hoping to soften the blow.”

  Instead of the usual laughter, she took a sip of her tea before saying, “I can’t help noticing how, since your accident, you’ve been favoring your leg.”

  Under cover of the table, he slid his hand along his right leg, from his thigh to his knee. He frowned. “It’s fine.”

  “It isn’t fine.”

  “Give it time, Gram Meg.”

  She shook her head. “Time’s up, Brand. Dr. Peterson warned you about this when you cut short your therapy in Casper. There was no one in Devil’s Door trained to follow up. Now you’re limping and gritting your teeth when you think nobody is looking. There’s no sense pretending that it will go away all by itself.”

  As if to hold off the approaching storm, Billy began circling the table, serving slices of carrot cake topped with mounds of vanilla ice cream.

  Brand picked up his fork and dug into his dessert. “We’re through with this discussion, Gram Meg. My leg will heal.”

  “Yes, it will. Because I’ve asked Dr. Peterson to send someone trained in physical therapy to come here to the ranch and work with you.”

  He lowered his fork. “A physical therapist? Here? And when do you suppose I’ll have time for such nonsense? Before I muck stalls at dawn? While I’m repairing the wheel on that tractor after breakfast? After I ride herd on a bunch of ornery cattle until dark?”

  “Yes.” She folded her hands in her lap, a sure sign that she intended to dig in and not back down. “Before, during, or after. I don’t care how you make it work. I know only that you will have to make time in your busy day for regular therapy sessions until your leg is one hundred percent healed.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m no longer that little eight-year-old you and Pops used to hold down while forcing nasty cough syrup down my throat.”

  “Really? You’re acting just like him.”

  Brand lifted his chin, biting back the curses that couldn’t be uttered in front of his grandmother. “I won’t be pestered by some physical therapist asking me to walk on a treadmill or do a series of squats.”

  “He’s already on his way. Dr. Peterson told me that Avery Grant will be here tomorrow. Billy and Liz gave me a hand cleaning out Hammond’s old suite of rooms on the third floor. I’m sure our visitor will be comfortable up there for the next six weeks.”

  “Six weeks?” Brand’s voice frosted over. “You’re wasting his time and mine. Not to mention a whole lot of money for nothing.”

  “No matter. It’s done.”

  He tossed aside his napkin and shoved away from the table. His eyes narrowed on his grandmother. “I can’t believe you’d do this behind my back.”

  “You left me no choice, Brand. Once you started avoiding the issue, I realized I’d have to take a stand.”

  Without a backward glance, he stalked out of the room, his limp so pronounced the entire family could see him fighting to hide his pain.

  After hearing his footsteps on the stairs and the slam of his door on the upper level, Bo turned to his mother. “We can all see that his leg’s giving him plenty of trouble. But the decision should have been his.”

  The older woman gave a nod of her head. “I know. I hate hurting him like this. But my years of nursing training told me he’ll never heal properly without help.”

  Old Hammond pointed with his fork. “I agree with Bo. You crossed a line, Margaret Mary.”

  Bo laid a hand on his mother’s arm, hoping to soften his grandfather’s words. “I realize you’re the medical expert in the family, and I know you consulted with Dr. Peterson before doing this. If it’s any comfort, I agree that Brand needs help. But I also feel it should have been Brand’s choice.”

  Egan rushed to his wife’s defense. “Meg’s just doing what she knows is right.”

  At the sudden silence in the room, Meg gave a long, deep sigh. “Being right doesn’t make it any easier.”

  From the head of the table, Hammond declared firmly, “The deed’s done, thanks to your meddling, Margaret Mary. Now, either our Brand will learn to work with this therapist or decide to fight him tooth and nail. And I wouldn’t blame him one bit if he refused to be bullied into this. In my day, pain was a part of life, especially life on a ranch.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to remind her father-in-law that times had changed, but Meg held back, having learned after almost fifty years in the family that her response would fall on deaf ears.

  To defuse the situation, Casey turned to his great-grandfather with a grin. “My money’s on a knock-down dirty fight between the two. And nobody comes away from a fight with Brand without being bloodied.”

  Jonah nodded. “I’m with you, bro. I pity this poor stranger who thinks he’ll be able to give orders to our grumpy big brother.”

  The two fist-bumped, while beside them Liz gave a shudder. “As if life around here isn’
t crazy enough in spring. I can’t imagine how having a stranger getting in the way can be anything except trouble. But I have to admit, with Brand in such a rotten mood, it should prove to be an interesting few weeks.”

  “Easy enough for you to avoid whenever it gets ugly.” Meg turned to her daughter. “You can drive off into the hills and snap all those lovely photographs. But I’ll be stuck here, mediating between your headstrong nephew and this poor young man sent here to help him.”

  “You could always go along with me and hide out in the hills. I guarantee one thing. You’ll enjoy some spectacular scenery.” Liz turned to Chet. “Are the trails dry enough for me to drive on?”

  He shrugged. The men in this family weren’t the only headstrong ones. This woman, so much like her grandfather, wouldn’t care if her truck got stuck for weeks in the wilderness. Whenever she was ready to escape, she did so without asking any of them for their help. “You’ll have to keep an eye out for runoff. Some of the trails are too soft to maneuver.”

  Jonah arched a brow. “You could always go along with her, Chet. Like a bodyguard.”

  Though the foreman’s expression never changed, a slight flush darkened his neck.

  “As if he doesn’t have enough to do wrangling those herds.” Hammond pointed a fork at his granddaughter. “Why, I was exploring those hills when I was only—”

  “Half my age. I know, Ham.” Liz blew the old man a kiss. “And we’re so glad you did. I can’t imagine living anywhere else in the world than right here.” She turned to her mother. “I think I’ll head out in a couple of days. Want to come along?”