Karen Rock - A Cowboy To Keep

“Which is yours?” he asked when they returned from the barn, halters and leads in hand.

She unlatched the gate and slid inside, careful not to make any fast moves. “Storm. The gray mare with the white stockings.”

“She’s a beauty,” he murmured in her ear, and a jolt of awareness rocketed through her. Before reaching Pokey, he stopped near Milly. Her nostrils flared as she blew, backing up a couple of steps, her ears flattening.

Poor, sweet girl. She’d been born and raised on this ranch. Deserved a better fate than what awaited her. From her own experiences, Dani knew how just one incident could be enough to derail your entire life. She hadn’t stopped praying for divine intervention to get Milly back on track and save her, since Dani hadn’t been able to do it herself.

To her surprise, Jack extended a hand, an apple in his palm. Milly’s head rose and she eyed the fruit down the length of her muzzle. After a long minute, where Dani held her breath and Milly stood still, Jack dropped the treat on the ground and headed for his mount. Milly watched him leave before she edged closer, snatched up the fruit and retreated to the corner of the pasture she preferred.

Phew.

That could have gone very badly. Horribly, considering the thrashing she’d once seen Milly give an overconfident groundskeeper who’d ignored the signs of her agitation until he found himself on the wrong side of her hooves.

What inspired Jack’s daring, unexpected act of kindness?

She puzzled over it while they finished tacking their horses, mounted, then headed out of the corral.

“This is the main house where our guests eat. There’s also a rec room and the second floor has rooms, too.” They passed a large, two-story log-cabin-style building with a wraparound deck that expanded on the side to a thirty-by-fifty-foot space. “We hold our barbecues, line dancing and bingo nights out here.”

A riding lawn mower, driven by a red-faced man, hummed by on the field separating the main lodge from the pasture. It kicked up the smell of fresh-cut grass and gasoline with each passing sweep. Pokey jerked his head and stepped sideways. Whatever Jack’s reply might have been evaporated as he worked to control the spirited animal.

At last the machine droned farther downfield. “Pokey, huh?” His narrowed gaze flicked her way.

“Not having trouble with him, are you?” Innocence oozed from every syllable.

“No. Enjoying the ride, thanks,” he insisted through gritted teeth, his words sounding a bit winded as he settled the horse.

“We aim to please.”

“So...Pokey...”

“It suits him, don’t you think?”

A quick laugh escaped Jack, a low, husky sound that set off a fluttery feeling in her stomach. “He’s a little hot, but nothing I can’t handle.” His knowing look got her flustered.

With the horses in hand, they continued past the hay barn, Pokey and Storm brushing noses. She lifted a hand to one of the grounds crew, Todd. His eyes went wide when they landed on Jack. Openmouthed, he returned her wave and wiped his wet brow with a rag before he went back to planting bright petunias around their flagpole.

“How many staff members work here?” Jack asked, as the horses stepped slowly on the packed dirt roadway.

“I’ve got seven wranglers, and they stay there, at the old railroad station—” she pointed at a converted, single-story structure “—with the kitchen crew, which is another three.”

“That doesn’t include Tanya, right?” He shot her a sharp, assessing look and pulled in a fidgeting Pokey. The belt buckle tattoo she’d spied earlier caught her eye.

“Right.” Her throat dried as she imagined what he thought—or conjectured, given Tanya’s relationship with Smiley. “She pays rent to stay in her own cabin. Over that hill.”

He turned his head and squinted at the distant building on the edge of the Pike National Forest.

“A couple of the groundskeepers lodge with the wranglers, as well, but a couple commute,” she hurried on, not wanting him to dwell on kindhearted Tanya, her best friend on the ranch. “As for the cleaning staff, they mostly live off site except Nan, who’s been with the Mays forever as a kitchen and housekeeping supervisor. I believe she’s mostly retired, though don’t tell her that. If you’re lucky, she’ll make her green chili stew while you’re here.”

“Till I catch Smiley.”

“He’s not guilty.” Her hand tightened on the reins when Jack didn’t respond. “He’s not that type.” A defensive note entered her voice.

It irked her when people got labeled for something they didn’t do. The sooner he found Smiley and cleared up this mess, the better. She needed Jack off this property ASAP.

“So these are all guest cabins?” Jack asked, smoothly changing the subject. The horses’ hooves splashed through a puddle left over from an early morning rainstorm. A woman with a mop and bucket emerged from a large stone structure. Behind her rose Mount Logan, its pine-covered incline cut through with a brown switchback trail.

“Some. They’re scattered on the property. That one’s Stonehenge. It’s our biggest. The one farther down with the balcony is the Homestead. We can have up to fifty guests a week when we’re full, and most of the season’s booked solid.”

Pride filled her, temporarily washing away her angst over Jack and the very real danger he represented. As the newly promoted stable manager, she’d worked hard over the winter to ensure their usual bookings returned and to attract new customers with her updated website.

This season was supposed to be perfect—a corner turned from her troubled past—and then the bounty hunter appeared. “You’ll stay with the wranglers.”

“I’ll find my own spot.”

At her surprised intake of breath, Storm’s ears flicked backward and her gait picked up as they entered the orientation trail used on day one of the guests’ arrival. “And where’s that?”

“Don’t know yet. I’ll be on the lookout.”

“All my wranglers bunk down together.”

He tugged at his shirt collar, creases appearing in the corners of his eyes. The strengthening sun beat down from the vast arc of blue overhead and a trickle of wet pooled at the base of her neck. “I’m not part of your crew.”

“You are while you’re undercover. Guess that makes me your boss.” She enjoyed the extra white that appeared around his dark eyes a little too much. “Do you mind having a lady in charge?”

“Got a problem with anyone telling me what to do. Look, boss, we need to get one thing straight. I only take orders from one person—myself.” He held the reins loosely in his left hand, his body swaying along with Pokey, his ease in the saddle evident.

She opened her mouth to mention he’d have to hide his tattoo as part of the dress code but decided to put off that argument for another day. Hopefully he’d locate Smiley quickly and leave before their first guests arrived. She’d do everything she could to facilitate those events, though strangely, another part of her felt let down at the thought.

Her mama had always said she attracted trouble like a fiddler attracted square dancing. And her mother had never been wrong. A long sigh escaped her.

There was the time she’d lost a school year’s worth of playground privileges for taking Frankie Joe’s dare to walk on top of the monkey bars. Another was when the church youth group leader had personally brought her home after Dani brawled with an older boy who’d called her “chicken legs” the first time her mother had gotten her to wear a dress.

She’d been a ponytail-wearing, makeup-avoiding, bruise-and-scrape-covered, bone-breaking horse fanatic who’d surprised everyone by cleaning up good once in a blue moon...and those only happened every other year.