Mountain Country Cowboy

“No,” he said as he looked down at her, again noticing a slightly crooked nose, evidence that at some point the tough little tomboy must have taken a tumble. But it lent her pretty face a bit of whimsy. Whimsy. Not exactly a word found in his usual vocabulary, but it fit Rio. “No, none of it was my fault.”

She darted a look at the cabin and further lowered her voice. “Nevertheless... I think I should warn you that Jeb Greer still works here. His son Eliot’s back for the summer, too. Jeb was, you know—”

“Yeah, I know.”

Greer. The man whose wife had an affair with Cash’s father. That discovery, along with a related fistfight provoked by the behavior of Cash’s dad, had Jeb’s wife fleeing the scandal and gotten the Herrera family thrown off the Hunter property.

While his thirteen-year-old self had cringed with every blow as that fight played out, a reluctant admiration for his wiry-built old man had nevertheless swelled as Cash had watched him expertly duck, sway and dodge. Then a one-two punch sent blood gushing from the nose of his bigger, burlier opponent. Caught up in the unfolding spectacle, Cash had laughed, fist punching the air in triumph. That was, until he caught the hate-filled look on the face of the other man’s ten-year-old son.

Their gazes had met and held, and in that moment Cash’s young heart knew he’d made an enemy for life. Justifiably, he was soon to learn, once he discovered the reason for the fight.

Cash shook off the recollection, determining to do his best to steer clear of both father and son. No point in his presence dredging up bad memories for them. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

She nodded and he turned toward the cabin, then paused to look back at her. “How’d that turn out? For the Greer couple, I mean. Did she come back?”

“Divorced.”

Not unexpected.

“Sorry to hear it.” He knew well the wound Jeb lived with—despite the passage of time—when a woman he’d taken into his heart betrayed him. He’d ridden that trail himself. Wasn’t inclined to risk riding it again.

Rio waited for him to continue, but that wasn’t a topic he intended to pursue. Instead, he raked his hand roughly through his hair. “Look, I apologize for this kidcare obstacle. I appreciate your offer of assistance. But do you think maybe, for the time being, Joey could come along with me? That way I can get started tomorrow. Not delay things.”

She gave him a doubtful look. “You want a kid to tag along who isn’t sure he even likes horses?”

He hadn’t figured out what was going on with that. Joey claimed he wasn’t afraid of them.

“He may not be into horses—yet—but there’s nothing stopping him from sitting on a barrel and playing with his trucks. Or mucking out stalls and filling water tanks. At eight years old I was doing that and more. You were, too.”

“I don’t know, Cash...”

He watched with bated breath as she nibbled the corner of her lower lip in concentration. Princess Rio. Who would have imagined fourteen years ago that the little snip would blossom into such a head turner? But since he’d clued her in that at the time of his application childcare hadn’t been an issue, she was probably questioning how well he knew his son. Wondering if he could vouch that Joey would cooperate when accompanying him.

In all honesty, he didn’t know.

It might take some doing to roll the little guy out of bed before dawn, but although she hadn’t done the hiring, he sensed it would be to his long-term advantage to have Rio’s seal of approval. Starting tomorrow would be a point in his favor.

“So what do you say?” he prompted. “I think we both want to make this transition work.”

She slowly nodded, as if not yet convinced. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe we can try it tomorrow, anyway.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Her mouth curved. “Not asking much, are you?”

With a sense of elation that he’d won her over, he couldn’t help but share her smile as they openly studied each other, her mind likely teeming with as many questions about their working relationship as filled his. If he guessed right, this spunky lady kept many a man—the deputy?—on his toes these days, and not because they were on guard for an ambush as he’d often been in his youth.

Looking down at her, he caught the soft, quick intake of her breath before she abruptly spun away and started down the trail back to the heart of the Hideaway.

“See you at sunrise,” she called over her shoulder with a sassy toss of that ponytail, and he shook his head. This might prove to be a long—and interesting—few months. But as he headed back to the cabin—his and Joey’s new home—a soul-deep gratefulness welled up within him.

Everything works for the good for those who love God and are called according to His purpose.

Three years after he’d joined God’s team just prior to being released from jail, he was still trying to get his head around that biblical promise—a vow that God would bring good from the worst of situations.

Wasn’t his friendship with Deputy Lamar proof of that? And the job he’d landed at the dude ranch shortly thereafter? Even working with horses as his dad dragged the family from job to job—from affair to affair—on ranches and at other horse facilities had come full circle. He’d acquired the experience to gain a foothold at Hunter’s Hideaway. And now, in time for Joey’s arrival, this job came with the added bonus of lodging that hands-down beat his bunkhouse quarters at the dude ranch where he’d previously worked.

God was looking out for him. For them.

Joey met him inside the door, his brown eyes anxious—an expression that regularly alternated with a pugnacious one. It had been good to see him laugh with the German shepherd earlier that day. But had the boy, in his father’s brief absence, thought his daddy had left him on his own like his mother had been known to do? Abandoned him as it might seem his grandma had done two days ago?

“Hey, champ.” He placed a hand on Joey’s head, ruffling his hair. The child wasn’t much into hugs, and Cash tried to respect that. Wasn’t into saying “I love you, too,” either, no matter how many times his father told him he was loved. But at the moment it was hard not to pull him close to his heart. “What’s up?”

The youngster’s jaw jutted, dark eyes uncertain. “I’m going to live with you forever now, Dad?”

Is that what his boy wanted? Didn’t want? He hadn’t been overly talkative since his grandma dumped him off. Hadn’t spoken a word about his mother, either. Only occasionally did a betraying flash of temper surface to express an underlying anger and confusion he wasn’t yet ready to verbalize.

More than anything, Cash longed to tell him yes, they’d be together forever. But he had no legal right to his son yet. Not unless his ex-wife honored her hastily scribbled note that Cash’s former mother-in-law had entrusted to his care. If he told Joey they’d be living together from now on, would that make him feel further forsaken by his mother? Or if he was okay with living with his dad, would an affirmative answer set him up to have his hopes dashed if Lorilee or the law subsequently refused to allow it?

“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.”