All for a Cowboy

“No.”

“But—”

“No.” Jordan’s voice held an edge of steel that he hoped hid the anxiety he felt at the mention of help. He’d been helped the conventional way and it hadn’t taken. He wasn’t beyond trying again, just not yet. Not...yet.

Emery was staring at him now, his lips pressed tightly together beneath his white mustache as if he was trying very hard to keep from speaking.

“Sorry,” Jordan muttered.

“Nothing to be sorry for. I imagine you’ve been to hell and back.”

“A couple times.”

“Pain still bad?”

“Getting better.”

“What’re you going to do now?”

Jordan started putting his papers back in the metal box. “I guess I’m going to start moving onto my ranch.”

“I mean for a living. You were never good with free time.”

Jordan almost said that he’d changed, but after the VA discussion he decided against it, saying instead, “Maybe I’ll drive by Claiborne’s place and see if he has any rank colts.” Which was how Jordan had made spending money during high school and college—starting those ornery animals.

Emery gave a short laugh. “When doesn’t he have rank colts?” he asked, seeming relieved to have a safe subject to talk about after delving into matters that edged into personal territory. “I’ve never seen a guy with so many wild two-, three-and four-year-olds. And every year he produces more foals. The guy’s got more money than brains.”

“He promised he was going to stop breeding when I left.”

“He lied.” Emery got to his feet and, once Jordan had the box locked, walked with him to the car, stopping in his tracks when he saw Clyde’s nose pressed up against the driver’s-side window. “You’re a poodle man now?”

“Stray,” Jordan said. “He’s been good company—seen me through a few rough spots on the trip. Subaru broke down a couple times.”

“I’m not surprised,” Emery said, cocking a thick white eyebrow as he studied the rusty little car. Then he looked back up at Jordan. “Speaking of rough spots...if you should get into any kind of trouble and you don’t call me, I’ll kick your ass to Missoula and back.”

“How would I get into trouble?” Jordan asked, straight-faced.

“I’m serious.”

“I’m just going to take care of what’s mine.” He got in the car and Clyde instantly jumped onto his lap, balancing his front paws on the door while his hind feet dug into Jordan’s thighs. Jordan rolled down the window a few more inches. “I appreciate the help and I won’t get myself into trouble.”

Much. He hoped.

Emery dug in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He removed a worn card and handed it to Jordan. “That’s my number. Call.”

Jordan took the card and put it in his own wallet, then Emery stepped back, looking, if anything, even more concerned than when Jordan had first stepped out of the car. Jordan wanted to tell him not to worry, but it wouldn’t have done a hell of a lot of good. So instead he nodded at the old man and put the car in reverse.

After driving a few miles, out of sight of the house, he pulled to the side of the gravel road and counted the bills left in his wallet. The Subaru repairs had made a deep dent and his disability check wouldn’t go into the bank for another seven days, but if he was careful and not too concerned about the quality of his purchases, he had enough to make do.

Pocketing his wallet, he smiled grimly at the poodle. “We have work to do.”

* * *

SHAE PULLED THE Audi to a stop behind the main guest-ranch house at Cedar Creek, pulling the keys out of the ignition and pocketing them. It was impossible to tell if Jordan had gotten there ahead of her, but all seemed quiet when she walked into the reception area, brushing off the powdered road dust that had filtered onto her jeans when she’d opened the car door. A young woman dressed in dark jeans and a crisp white Western shirt with a bolo tie at the neck came around the reception desk to meet her.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully. “Welcome to the Cedar Creek Ranch. I’m Ashley.”

“I’m Shae McArthur,” Shae replied, wondering whether she’d actually beaten Jordan to the ranch—and if so, how?—or if he was simply somewhere else, having it out with Miranda. “I’d like to see Miranda.”

Ashley’s instant change of expression was almost comical as she realized who was standing in front of her. “She’s not back yet, but the trail riders should be arriving any minute now.”

“Where?”

“The far barn.”

“Has anyone showed up looking for her?”

Something that looked very much like a smirk twisted Ashley’s lips. “No. No one at all.”

“Thank you.” Shae reversed course and headed for the far barn, relieved to see a group of people dismounting as she approached. Miranda was easy to spot in the small crowd, with her pale auburn hair and megawatt smile. The smile that faltered slightly when their eyes met. Miranda handed her reins off to the wrangler closest to her, murmuring something to him before heading to meet Shae.

“Shae. What are you doing here?” she said in the falsely bright tone she used in front of the guests.

“Jordan showed up at the High Camp today. He seems to think he owns the property.”

Miranda took hold of Shae’s upper arm, gripping tightly. “Jordan?” she asked. “Here?”

“He left and I thought he was coming to Cedar Creek. Apparently he hasn’t arrived yet.”

Miranda let go of Shae’s arm. “Well, this is a surprise,” she said sardonically, more to herself than Shae. A young couple dressed in obviously new Western clothing walked by and Miranda smiled at them. “Megan. John. I hope you enjoyed the ride.”

“Gorgeous,” the woman replied. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Can’t wait to wet my line tomorrow.” The man put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We’re having a great time.”

“Glad to hear it.” Miranda beamed at the couple, then turned back to Shae. “Let’s go to my office,” she said in an undertone, starting to walk without waiting for a reply. Shae fell into step, smiling and nodding at the guests Miranda greeted by name on her way to main house. The woman was so damned good at making people feel special, both guests and employees. Quite the chameleon at times.

“Good afternoon, Ashley,” Miranda said as she passed by the desk. “Any messages?”

“Only the one from Ms. McArthur,” the girl replied with a tight-lipped smile.

“Thank you.” Miranda led the way up the stairs across the room from the reception area, unlatching the small chain that barred access, and then relatching it after Shae had passed through. Shae hadn’t spent much time at the guest ranch, except for company picnics and the Christmas parties, but she knew that the second floor was the family’s—and now Miranda’s—private sanctuary.

The stairs led to a large, comfortable room with a fireplace and several sofas upholstered in Indian prints. A large fur rug covered the hardwood floor in front of the fire and original oils of cowboys and Native American scenes hung on the walls. Miranda walked through the room, down a short hall, and opened the frosted glass door leading to her office.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Miranda said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the sleek oak desk, letting Shae know, even under these circumstances, exactly what their positions were—that of employer and temporary employee.

“I’d only been at the ranch for about half an hour. I had to walk in because there was a tree down across the road, so I was later getting there than planned. I was in the house and a man—Jordan—walked in. Scared the hell out of me.”