Mary Sullivan - No Ordinary Cowboy

His gut churned. He’d never raised his voice in front of any child before.

He rushed from the house and raced across the yard to the stable.

AMY STARED at his retreating back. The man wasn’t as mild-mannered as he looked.

The counselors began to herd the children through the front door.

“Take them to the field and start a game,” Willie said. The counselors nodded.

Willie walked to where she sat on the sofa.

“He has a temper,” she said, glancing at him for confirmation, but the ranch foreman looked at her as if she’d crawled out from under a rock.

“That there,” he said, leaning toward her, “is the first time I’ve seen that boy lose his temper since he was sixteen.”

He smacked his dirty hat onto his gray hair and pinned Amy with shrewd eyes. He got close enough for her to smell coffee on his breath. “You couldn’ a picked a better way to make an enemy of the sweetest boy on the face of this earth.”

He left the room, the heels of his cowboy boots banging reproach on the floor of the hall.

Amy sat dazed.

She’d seen the censure of every child and teenager standing in the hall when Hank had stormed out. Rather than blame him for his bad behavior, they’d looked at her as if she were the one at fault.

She raised her hand to her hot cheek, thinking of the way Hank had looked at her a few moments ago, not with the heat of anger, but with something almost like hunger. Then rage had taken its place, all of it directed at her.

The commingled heat of anger and chagrin burned through her.

How dare Hank make her look bad in front of these children?

Two years ago, she would have found a way to handle the situation better, but she was so far off her stride these days. Why hadn’t Leila warned Hank about this option? Perhaps she’d been wary of Hank’s reaction and had left it for Amy to deal with. So odd for take-charge Leila.

Amy stood and walked to her room, where she sat on her bed and fumed. How dare he treat her as if she was the villain here? He’d gotten himself into financial trouble, not her.

She had a good mind to march right back home to Billings and leave the ornery man to deal with his own problems.

Him and his useless pride. Over the past ten years, she’d often run into foolish pride in mismanaged corporations. Boards and managers who called on her for help routinely ignored her hard-won reputation and refused to consider her solutions.

Stubborn, stubborn man. Did Hank think she would be here if the situation wasn’t dire? Did he think übercapable Leila panicked at the drop of a hat?

And Willie. Did he have to look at her as if she was the cause of their problems?

She knew what would come next on Hank’s part—resistance, sly questions about her competence, the insistence on a second opinion. All in all, a noxious brew that wouldn’t let up until she either saved the ranch for them, or sold it.

She rubbed her temples. She was so darn tired of fighting, and she wasn’t sure she had the patience left to help people who wouldn’t help themselves.

The hell with it.

She was leaving.

She picked up her purse and dragged her suitcase from the bed.

As she reached the door, an image of Leila’s worried face popped into her mind. Leila had been her rock for the past two years. Amy owed her big-time and didn’t resent the debt one iota.

She sighed. Of course she wouldn’t leave. One more image of Leila’s normally indomitable face creased with worry was enough to make Amy stay put.

More importantly, if Amy went home, she would be back to square one. Living like a hermit. Ignoring decisions that needed to be made about her business. Wallowing in self-pity.

Leila hadn’t asked Amy to come. Amy had volunteered, both for her friend and for herself.

It was time to get over her problems and get on with life. These children could help her.

She set down her bags, walked to the window and stared at the massive fields of waving grain, at the neat-as-a-pin grounds, and at the large solid buildings—stables, barns, garages—all white and red in the blazing sun. Not one sign of neglect.

Admittedly Hank took care of the place.

In one of the fenced corrals, a mother horse and her baby nuzzled noses. Colt? Calf? No, calves were cows. Weren’t they?

This ranch could help her.

She’d stay.

For one week.

Not one day longer.

If an accountant with her skills couldn’t set this place right in a week, then it was time to change careers.

Amy took a deep, sustaining breath and turned from the window. She needed to call her mother, who would fret until she heard from Amy.

She pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed the number in Billings.

“Hello?” Mother’s voice quavered more with each passing week.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“I was expecting you to call a long time ago, you know?” Rarely did her mother make a statement that didn’t end with a question mark. Maybe the habit came from watching Jeopardy! every night for twenty years.

“Yes, I know, but it was a long drive then I had lunch.”

“When are you coming home, dear?”

Amy sighed. She’d already told Mother a number of times she’d be here until she solved the problem. If Mother had Alzheimer’s or dementia, Amy could understand her behavior. But Amy knew this was an attempt to make her feel guilty about leaving Billings.

She also knew how lonely Mother was.

Caught in a bind between impatience and love, she asked, “Have you gone to any of those socials your church organizes?”

“No. I don’t know anyone there, do I?”

“That is the point of the socials. To get to know other people.”

“But I don’t know anyone now, do I? So I would have to make new friends. That’s hard for me, you know?”

Amy counted to ten. Oh, Mother, darling, get a life.

The silence stretched until her mother broke it. “When are you coming home?”

“I’ll come back on the weekend for a visit. I’ll stay with you on Saturday night. How does that sound?”

“Today is only Monday,” Mother said, a thread of desperation running through her tone. “Saturday is a long way away. Can you come on Friday night?”

Amy squeezed the top of her nose to ease a building headache.

“Yes. I’ll see you at dinnertime.”

She closed her phone with a click and sat with her eyes closed. When had the child become the parent and her mother, the child?

She opened her purse and took out the small jade cat she carried everywhere. Her dad had given it to her after her pet, Princie, had been hit by a car. It sat in her hand, cool and green.

“She’s the exact shade of your pretty green eyes,” he’d said. “This little cat will never die. She’ll be your friend forever.”

That day, she’d felt nothing could harm her while Dad was around.

She set the cat on the bedside table and pushed away those memories.

Enough. No dwelling on pain or death.

Instead, figure out what you plan to do about this ranch.

And what you plan to do about Hank Shelter. She had a bone to pick with him.

He owed her for embarrassing her in front of everyone. She’d wait until the time was right then let him have it, full blast, both barrels blazing.

Images of his sweet smile and the sensitive way he played with the children flashed through her mind, and she hesitated, but the memory of him towering over her and yelling at her won out.

Hank Shelter deserved a set down, and she was just the person to administer it.

HANK PACED the length of the stable’s center aisle from front to back and back to front again.

Time to be honest with himself. This whole situation rattled him. She rattled him. He remembered the way he’d stood over Amy, trying to make her take back what she’d said about selling the ranch. He never used his size to intimidate people, ’specially not women or children.