Roping the Rancher

“A car heading straight for them won’t budge these things, and you’re worried they’d suddenly get the gumption to charge?” He shook his head. City folks and their harebrained notions. “These aren’t the bulls that run in Pamplona.”

“I don’t know. A couple of them look like they could be troublemakers.” One of the cows raised its head and turned toward her. She pointed at the animal. “That one’s been giving me the evil eye. I think she has it in for me. Can you personally vouch for her character?”

Her attempt at humor almost made him smile. Almost. This woman appeared to have more than one trick up her sleeve to disarm a man, but then what did he expect from an actress? She could pretend to be anyone she wanted to.

Ignoring Stacy and her pretty blue eyes that he suspected could see straight inside him, he turned to Ryan. “What do you say, sport? You up for this?”

“Just tell me what to do.”

“Wait a minute. Are you sure that’s a good idea, Ryan?” Stacy stepped forward, but then stopped and smiled at her brother. “Be careful.”

“Ryan, you head over there to the opening in the fence. Stand right beside it and make sure the cows don’t make a last-minute break for it.” Colt knew once he got the animals that far, they weren’t likely to find the energy to go anywhere. “They probably won’t. It’s more likely they’ll get all bunched up. If that happens just swat them on the rear to speed them up.”

“Got it.”

Ryan clutched his walker and tried to find a level spot. Once he did that, he moved his walker and stepped. He repeated the process again. Colt glanced at Stacy. Her gaze locked on her brother as she stood there, her body rigid, her hands clasped in front of her, nibbling on her lower lips. She wants to help, but she knows he needs to do this on his own. Maybe there’s hope for her.

A couple of steps later Ryan wobbled. Colt glanced again at Stacy. When she stepped forward he shook his head and she froze, concern clouding her beautiful features. Sweat beaded on Ryan’s face as he worked his way out of the ditch to the hole in the fence. Once there, Colt walked up to the ring leader and slapped the cow on the hind quarters. “Move!”

In fewer than five minutes he had all the cows back in the pasture. That job done, he tugged the fence until it and Stacy’s rental car created a temporary barrier. “This should hold them until Charlie can fix the fence.” Colt strolled to his three-wheeler, crawled on and then glanced back at the pair. “Ryan, hop on the back with me. Stacy, ride in wagon and hold the walker.”

Ryan headed toward him, but Stacy stood rooted in her spot glaring at him. “Why do I have to ride in the cart?”

“Your butt’s covered in manure.”

“Ryan, won’t you switch—”

“I’m not having manure all over my seat.”

She appealed to her brother again.

“Sorry, sis. I’m siding with Colt on this one.”

Hands on her hips, she said, “You’ve got to be kidding?”

“It’s either the wagon or walk,” Colt replied.

She shook her head, dropped her hands off her hips and walked toward the wagon. “Men.”

* * *

WHEN STACY ARRIVED at the Rocking M Ranch she found herself thankful that the jolting ride over in the cart hadn’t loosened her teeth.

They stopped in front of a mocha-colored wood-and-brick house with trees that stood guard around the structure. The house, while not huge, wasn’t too small, either, and was in pristine condition. When they reached the front porch, she discovered a rocking chair. She could envision Colt’s long frame seated there as he surveyed the beautiful land around him.

This wasn’t a house. It was a home.

Once inside the living room, Colt turned to Ryan. “You can hang out here while I show your sister where to clean up. Then we’ll head for the barn and I’ll show you around. We’ve got a few things to take care of before your first session, like picking out a horse for you.”

“Shouldn’t I be there for that?”

“He’s seventeen. He’ll be fine.” Colt motioned for her to follow him. “I’d let you use my daughter’s room, but you know how teenagers are about their privacy.”

At the mention of his daughter, she glanced at his left hand. No wedding ring, but then a lot of guys, especially ones who worked with their hands, didn’t wear one. “Ryan said he met your daughter at school. How old is she?”

“Almost sixteen. I’ve got three months until D-Day.”

“Huh? I don’t get it.”

“She gets to date and drive when she turns sixteen in three months.”

“You look tough. I bet you can survive it. I did with Ryan. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but it can be done.”

“Guys are different.”

She thought about his comment. In some ways she’d had it easier with Ryan. Guys didn’t get pregnant. They weren’t victims of date rape. There were a hundred other horrors parents of teenage girls had to worry about.

At the end of the upstairs hallway Colt opened the door and stepped aside for her to enter. Stacy walked into the room and stared. Never in her life had she seen such a neat, well-organized bedroom. Not a speck of dust lay on any of the large rustic furniture. The bed was not only made, but there wasn’t a wrinkle anywhere on the dark brown comforter. No clothes on the floor. No shoes for someone to trip over. Not even any change tossed on the nightstand by the massive bed. “Either your wife spends all her waking time cleaning or you’ve got an amazing maid.”

“I’m not married, and you’re looking at the maid.”

That explained the no ring. Was he divorced? A widower? Whatever his situation, between that and being a war vet, the man probably carried more baggage than a 747. She didn’t want to know.

She craved average and uncomplicated.

Knowing about a person’s life led to attachments and caring, which led to emotional entanglements, responsibilities and expectations. All of which usually ended up with her getting disappointed. She thought about her past relationships. Whenever she started having expectations or wanted more out of the relationship, her boyfriends suddenly stopped calling.

She and Colt had a business arrangement. He was to help Ryan overcome his physical disabilities. Period.

But she couldn’t miss the similarity of their situations. She was raising a teenage boy and half the time she felt clueless. While he was raising his daughter alone, and from his comments, she suspected he often felt out of his league, too. Men and women saw the world differently, and no matter how she tried, they couldn’t really stand in each other’s shoes.

She could imagine how much harder it would be for a guy to raise a teenage girl alone. Dealing with female hormones and emotions which caused bigger ups and downs than an amusement-park roller coaster, her developing body and the sex talk issues. The man must be made of titanium.

“You need something to wear while your clothes are in the washer.” He walked to his closet door. Inside were neatly folded shirts, organized by color, even the plaid ones, stacked on metal closet organizer shelves. He selected one. Then he grabbed a pair of jeans and a belt and handed the items to her.

She stared at him. He was easily six-two and solidly built. “You’re kidding, right? Have you looked at me?”

A slow grin spread across his face, as his gaze scanned her from head to toe. And not a quick look, but a slow inspection that let him take his time to check out all the assets. She, who was used to guys staring at her as if they could see through to her underwear all the time in auditions and on the set, blushed at the intensity in this man’s gaze.

“What in particular am I supposed to notice?” His low, husky voice slid over her, making her tingle. Really? Tingle? Men didn’t make her do that. What was up with her reaction to this guy? He wasn’t even close to her type. He was too strong. Too imposing. Just plain too much.

But there was something about him. An honesty and a confidence she found compelling. He’s real. What a woman saw was what she’d get.

Stop it. He’s the last thing you need right now.

She cleared her throat. “I’m built a little bit different than you are.”

“Thank the good Lord for that.”