Cathy Mcdavid - The Cowboy's Perfect Match

Slightly unsteady and flushed with both excitement and nervousness, she let out a small gasp. “My goodness!”

“I’ve got you, darling.” Her husband anchored her against him.

“Yes, you do.” She stood on tiptoes and gave him a peck on the lips.

He guided her to the only empty bale of straw, where they sat down, their hands still joined. Their obvious love for each other reminded Ryan of his own parents. All these years later, the DeMeres still sometimes acted like the pair of teenagers they’d been when they first met.

Ryan hoped to have a marriage like theirs one day. He’d have to wait, though, until he’d made enough to buy that dream ranch. He wasn’t about to ask a woman to live amid crumbling walls, even if those walls would be rebuilt and unrecognizable in a year. His nomadic lifestyle and frequent hand-to-mouth survival also didn’t make him the best candidate for marriage.

“Everyone ready?” Big Jim called over his shoulder.

He was answered by a chorus of loud cheers from the group of almost twenty, which included two young girls in matching outfits who were impossible for Ryan to tell apart. He picked up the overturned crate and moved it out of the way. They’d need it again when they returned from the hayride.

He hadn’t required much instruction from Big Jim. Ryan had gone on plenty of hayrides during his life. His father used to hitch up the horses every Halloween and take the DeMere kids and their many friends from house to house. He still did, only now the kids were Ryan’s many nieces and nephews. Grandpa DeMere was a favorite relative with them.

Besides Halloween, there’d been church outings and parades and birthday parties. Ryan had also driven the wagon at his cousin’s wedding. He’d forgotten to mention that to Emily during their interview.

She hadn’t come on the ride. Neither had Bridget, not that Ryan expected her to. He assumed she was busy with the cookout preparations. Nonetheless, he’d suffered a small stab of disappointment.

Ryan had caught only the tail end of Bridget’s conversation with her grandmother earlier. Enough to know she was going out with the local doctor or wanted to go out with him. Ryan wasn’t sure which. Her remarks had caused a different sort of stab—one of envy. Whoever this doctor was, Ryan didn’t like him. He didn’t care if the man discovered a cure for cancer, he wasn’t right for Bridget.

Neither was Ryan, but that hadn’t stopped the giant fist from squeezing his insides. To mask his reaction, he’d smiled and winked at Bridget when leaving with her grandmother. She hadn’t responded, and Ryan had been forced to put aside thoughts of her while he handled Emily’s various chores and then went home to change clothes for the hayride.

While the horses walked sedately down the long dirt road leading away from the ranch, the sun inched slowly toward the horizon. A wet spring had caused an abundance of blossoms to sprout, turning the normally dry and prickly cacti into striking displays of color that drew a variety of birds and flying insects.

Big Jim pointed out various spots of interest to their passengers. Ryan paid close attention, as he would soon be doing the same thing when he was in charge of the hayrides.

“Over there are the McDowell Mountains, home to the largest urban preserve in the continental United States,” Big Jim said. “If you go on a trail ride, and I highly recommend you do, you’ll travel through the northern tip of the preserve.”

Two couples were already signed up for trail rides on Wednesday and two more on Friday. Ryan figured he’d be going along with Big Jim in order to learn the different routes. Too bad Bridget couldn’t come with them. He’d enjoy seeing her in the saddle and away from the kitchen.

The hayride lasted a little over an hour. By then their passengers were in good spirits, hungry from an abundance of fresh air and ready to relax around the campfire.

While everyone strolled to the ranch house, where the fire pit was located, Ryan helped Big Jim unharness and brush down the horses. Ryan had been impressed with the team’s performance and mentioned as much to Big Jim.

The older man patted Moses’s neck before closing the door on the big gelding’s stall. “They’re good boys. I’ll miss working with them.”

Both horses went straight for their water troughs, then examined their feed bins, which Ryan had filled right before departing on the hayride. The other three horses showed considerable interest in the goings-on only to grow bored when more food wasn’t forthcoming.

“What time is the first trail ride on Wednesday?” Ryan asked. “I can bring my own horse if we need an extra one.”

“Here’s the problem.” Big Jim closed and locked the stable door behind them. “Doris is having some tests done over the next few days.” He’d mentioned his wife’s heart condition earlier. While not life-threatening, it was concerning enough that she was under the care of a cardiologist. Her health issues were the main reason Big Jim wanted to retire. “Maybe Owen can go with you. He’s familiar with the mountains.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Have yourself a good evening.” Big Jim headed for his truck.

“Aren’t you coming to the cookout?”

“Naw.” He yanked open the driver’s side door. “Doris gets nervous when she’s home alone for too long.”

“Good night, then.”

Ryan ambled down the road leading to the ranch house. Well before he arrived at the fire pit, he smelled the delicious aroma of food cooking over hot embers. He knew this meal would far surpass the breakfast Bridget had prepared and make returning to his regular diet of bologna sandwiches hard.

She was there, bent over the fire pit and turning foil-wrapped ears of corn on a metal rack. Streaks of soot marred her cheeks and loose hair tumbled into her eyes. She brushed away the strands with the back of her hand.

Ryan was immediately captivated, not that he hadn’t been from the moment they’d met.

He passed the ranch guests he’d recently driven on the hayride. Most were sitting at the picnic table or in lawn chairs and sipping adult beverages. They returned his hellos, some thanking him again for the hayride. The two girls insisted on venturing too close to the fire pit and had to be warned away repeatedly by their parents.

Bridget worked quickly, expertly flipping steaks and skewers of shrimp and stirring a cast-iron pot of beans. She fussed and fretted as if creating a masterpiece.

Coming up behind her, he asked, “Need any help?”

She cranked her head around. “I’m good, thanks.”

He stayed nearby, anyway, mostly to watch her.

Owen wandered over, two longneck beer bottles in his hands. He’d arrived a short while ago to join the family for the cookout. “Have a seat.” He indicated a pair of vacant lawn chairs.

Ryan gladly accepted the offer—of the chair and the beer. “Don’t mind if I do.”

“How’d your first day go?” Owen asked.

“I think I’m going to like it here.” Ryan’s gaze strayed to Bridget.

Owen obviously noticed. “She’s something else. Works like a fiend with seven arms.”

“I don’t know how she does it.”

“She and Molly grew up in the hospitality business. Emily and her first husband owned and operated the Morning Side Inn in town for over thirty years. The girls spent their summers here, learning the ropes from a young age.”

“Runs in the family then.”

“This ranch means everything to them.”

Ryan couldn’t decide if Owen was simply making small talk or issuing a warning. “It’s an incredible place.”

“Emily’s idea. She sold the inn after her first husband died and sunk her entire savings into Sweetheart Ranch.”