Glynna Kaye - Mountain Country Cowboy

“That’s what I’m praying for.” He gave Joey’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “That is...if that’s what you want.”

“Whatever.”

The boy pulled away. Not exactly the response Cash was hoping for.

“You know,” he ventured, doing his best to sound reassuring, “I’m here to listen anytime you want to talk.”

“Talk about what?” Joey looked at him with a deliberately blank expression. The Dead Eye Look, Hodgson Herrera called it. A stare that, had Cash pulled it on his own father, would have gotten him knocked halfway across the room.

But Cash drew a slow breath, determined not to let the child light a fuse under his own sometimes volatile emotions. Joey had every right to be angry. To not trust him. “We can talk about anything you want to, whenever you want to.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

One. Two. Three. Counting to ten—even twenty—had become a lifesaver these past three years, and Cash felt the tension slowly ebbing. “Suit yourself. But there are a few things I need to talk to you about. Guy stuff.”

Joey’s eyes cautiously brightened. “Guy stuff?”

“That’s right.” Cash chucked him lightly on the arm. “You said you wanted to hang out with me. Well, we’re going to get a chance to do that. But I’m going to need your help...”

* * *

“What are you up to, Luke?” In the near-dawn of Saturday morning, from one of the box stalls where she’d been checking in on a pregnant mare—her favorite horse, Gypsy—Rio watched curiously as her brother pulled his saddle out of the tack room. Surely he wasn’t headed for a ride at this hour?

“I’m setting this out for Cash to take a look at.” He placed the saddle on a bale of straw, tilting it forward to rest on its saddle horn. “This strap here is getting worn. When I ran into Cash after supper last night and he mentioned he’s done leatherwork in the past, I asked him to take a look at it. See if it can be repaired.”

“I’d be happy to look at it for you.” She was more than capable of evaluating saddlery. Making repairs, too.

“No need. Keep on doing whatever it is you’re doing there, but point Cash in this direction when he gets in.”

With an exasperated sigh, she glanced at her watch as Luke departed. Ten more minutes and Cash would be late. Having lain awake in the night thinking of the too-handsome new hire and everything needing to be done before the events contractor’s visit, she was now grouchy and having misgivings concerning allowing Joey to join them.

Not only did the family have planning ahead for the contractor’s visit, but she and Cash also had their regular work to do. While summer hires could muck out stalls and help with the feeding and grooming of thirty horses, she enjoyed the hands-on involvement with the animals and time with the guests and wanted to evaluate Cash in those respects. Working with the horses and matching rider experience levels was especially important.

Today she’d team up with Cash as trail ride wranglers, then when they got back they’d cool down the animals, grab a bite to eat and be back to prepare for an afternoon ride. There would be no opportunity to keep track of a child, to keep him safe and out of mischief.

Lost in thought, she startled when Cash hailed her from one of the barn’s wide-open double doorways.

“Here we are, with minutes to spare.”

As she exited the box stall and secured the door behind her, she looked at her watch again, almost disappointed that Cash was two minutes early so she didn’t have grounds to take out her crankiness on him. She couldn’t help but smile as he approached, though, one hand steering a foot-dragging Joey in front of him and the other grasping a reusable shopping bag lumpy with what she guessed to be toys.

Again she noticed the boy’s unsuitable attire, topped by a windbreaker on this coolish morning. Nor did she miss the way he anxiously took in the presence of the stabled horses. “You need work clothes, Joey. Jeans. Boots.”

The little guy shrugged as he glumly looked up at his dad. Not a happy camper this morning.

Cash studied him. “Yeah. His wardrobe’s definitely suited to a suburban desert climate. Maybe we can find a secondhand store someplace. There’s no point in investing much money in something he’ll outgrow overnight.”

Yesterday she’d glimpsed Cash’s pickup parked behind his cabin. While the aging vehicle was well cared for, she suspected he didn’t have much to invest in anything right now.

“Well, let’s get started.” Snagging a clipboard from a recessed area in the wall, she flipped through the pages. “Looks like we don’t have a full roster for this morning’s ninety-minute ride. Only seven. Mostly newbies. One couple claims to be experienced riders, but while we don’t want to assign them a beginner’s mount that might bore them to tears, we don’t want them to overreach, either.”

Cash led a sober-eyed Joey to a stack of straw bales and motioned for him to sit down. Handed him his bag. “It’s been my experience people tend to overestimate their equestrian skills. You know, as if riding merry-go-round ponies at the county fair qualifies as an experienced rider.”

She laughed at his spot-on insight, remembering that, according to his application, he’d worked at a popular dude ranch the past several years. After he got out of jail. And before that, at other equine-related facilities where he’d trained horses. “You noticed that, too?”

He grinned. “All too common.”

As they walked through the barn, keeping Joey in sight, he listened attentively to her reasoning behind her chosen rider and mount assignments. Through the stall bars he gave each horse a pat on the neck or a scratch under the chin, entirely comfortable in his surroundings.

So why wasn’t she?

He didn’t talk much, for one thing. Nodded occasionally. Asked a question here and there. And left her uncharacteristically prattling on to fill in the silence. It didn’t help either that she was all too aware of him as he strolled along beside her, her senses on high alert. To her annoyance, the faint, clean scent of his soap and the occasional good-natured chuckle that rumbled from the depths of his chest sent her heart galloping.

Disgusted with her involuntary reaction—a betrayal of women everywhere who’d been lured in by charming men with a penchant for punching—she hugged the clipboard to her chest. The crew would be arriving shortly to feed and groom the animals. Maybe that everyday routine would settle this unfamiliar edginess. “Any other questions?”

“I’m interested,” Cash ventured with an earnest look, “in learning more details of what your grandmother shared regarding an events contractor coming to check things out. How do you anticipate that will affect what goes on in this particular aspect of the Hideaway?”

“We learned of the company’s interest in including us as a possible venue for small-event gatherings maybe two weeks ago.” Ideas for the visit were being bandied about. Nothing solidified. “I’m sure Luke will go over the financial reports with you as they relate to our seasonal trail riding offerings, hayrides and sleigh rides, but as Grandma may have mentioned, we’re still recovering from that nationwide economic downturn several years ago. With the help of an influx of artisan newcomers, Hunter Ridge is getting there, but hasn’t quite bounced back yet.”

He nodded. “She touched on that.”

“My brother Grady’s bringing in wildlife photographers for workshops. But this is an opportunity for a considerable number of other small-group bookings if we can get a thumbs-up through this contractor. They claim that more and more of their big city clients are looking for unique, intimate venues for gatherings.”