Always A Cowboy

Not fair, he corrected himself. She had trekked all the way to that ridge—in hiking boots, no less, nothing fashionable about those—and she’d found the horses. Maybe he was underestimating Ms. Hale. She was certainly determined, no doubt about that. “Follow along. Be my guest. If you enjoy the smell of manure and hay, I’m more than happy to escort you to the stables.”

For that condescending statement he received a derisive look. “I can find the stables on my own. I promise I won’t get in your way. This project is important to me, and as far as I can tell, it’s important to you.”

He failed to see the logic there. “How so?”

“What if I can help you figure out what to do?”

Drake was honest, but he was also diplomatic—or so he hoped. He fought back a response that included How the heck could you help me? and substituted, “I look forward to your suggestions.”

* * *

LUCE COULDN’T DECIDE if he was just being sarcastic, but at least he was courteous.

She’d meant it.

“You don’t think I can help?”

He walked next to her, toward a weathered structure bordered by a fenced enclosure. Several sleek horses were grazing and lifted their heads to watch as they approached, curious but unafraid. Some of them nickered, wanting his attention. “You don’t know horses.”

“Wrong.”

She was above average height for a woman and still reached only his shoulder. He was one tall man. She’d mostly seen him on horseback or sitting at the dinner table with his brothers, who were also tall, so she hadn’t realized.

He looked skeptical. “How am I wrong?”

“I don’t know them the same way you do. I’ve worked on a lot of studies, read the literature, done my homework, so to speak, but that doesn’t mean I completely understand their behavior. I do, however, understand the situation.”

She’d describe his expression as unconvinced.

“That’s fine,” he said. “You go about your business and I’ll go about mine.”

“Suit yourself.”

You are my business. She didn’t say it out loud, but it was true. She found it disconcerting to recognize that he might be more interesting than those beautiful horses. When her thesis topic had first come to her, she’d wondered abstractly how wild horses impacted the environment.

Here she was now, and she had a Zen-like feeling that maybe fate was toying with her. At first he’d caught her attention because, from what she’d read, they shared similar views on ecological issues, but there was more to it.

Drake opened the stable door. “After you.”

The place smelled earthy, lined with rows of neat stalls, and Drake was greeted with soft whinnies as the animals poked their heads over the stall doors. He was gently companionable with each one, unhurried in his attentions. Luce was moved by this, but not really surprised; the way the dogs followed him around, quiet and devoted, had told her a lot about the man. In her experience animals had more insight than people normally did, so that said something very positive about Drake Carson.

“Anything I can do?”

“I doubt it.” He carried a bucket of water into a stall and softened that by adding, “By the time I told you what to do, I could probably have done it myself.”

“Probably,” she conceded, “but keep in mind, I’m a fast learner.”

He turned, empty bucket in hand, and gave her a measured look. “Good to know.”

She caught on quickly that they were no longer talking about feeding a barn full of horses. Her response was tart. “Isn’t it a little early in the morning for sexual innuendos, Mr. Carson?”

“I figure all twenty-four hours of the day are good for those.” He led out his big horse and she scooted aside. “I’m going to saddle up and ride out now. You do whatever you want to, but I have a gate to fix and that has nothing to do with wild horses and everything to do with keeping the cattle in that pasture.”

“I can’t ride along?”

He went into a small room and emerged with a well-worn saddle. “Grace’s horse, Molly, is in that stall.” He pointed. “Saddle her and follow me if you like. For now, I need to move along. Have a nice morning.”

It took him about three minutes to saddle his horse, slip on the bridle and mount up. Then he was heading out, the beautiful dogs trotting alongside. She’d yet to even hear them bark.

Learn to saddle a horse—that was item number one on her to-do list. But first she hurried to the doorway to see which direction Drake had gone. Maybe she couldn’t ride or fling saddles around with any confidence, but she was wearing her hiking boots, had a bottle of water in her pack and a sack lunch Harry had handed her as she’d hurried out the door. If dinner the night before was any indication, there could be something magical in there.

Perfect day for a walk.

That obnoxious cowboy wasn’t getting rid of her as easily as he thought.

Besides, she was hoping to take more pictures of the horses. She’d gotten some good shots, but she hoped to do that each and every time she was close enough to manage it. She’d already caught an excellent image of the stallion; she knew more about horses than Drake gave her credit for. It was obvious to her that the magnificent animal was the one in charge of the herd—even before she’d listened to the conversation at dinner. He was beautiful, too, with clean lines and fluid grace.

If she could find Drake, she’d photograph him at work, whether he liked it or not. Better to ask forgiveness, as the saying went, than permission. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was going to publish them or anything. They were purely for research purposes. Having a physical record would help her organize her notes when she began the process of writing the actual paper. As she hefted her pack and left the barn, the sun-gilded Tetons felt like familiar friends, the glory of the setting an undeniable perk. There was still snow on the peaks, and the air was crisp and fresh.

Lovely, lovely day.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_d0e16545-89ff-54ee-ad34-8eb5172ba30a)

IT HAD ALREADY been one hell of a day, and there was still a long trail ahead.

Drake tried to concentrate on fixing yet another gate hinge so rusted it was next to impossible to remove the screws without help. Red had sacrificed some of his considerable pride by turning the job over to a younger man. Luckily, the old bull in the pasture beyond hadn’t figured out how easy it would’ve been to bust the thing and make a run for it.

Slater was lending him a hand by holding the gate steady.

As he worked, Drake mulled over a more complex problem.

He felt guilty for ditching Lucinda Hale on a daily basis this past week. It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand her zeal for the animals. It was just that at the beginning, middle and end of the day, or any time he really didn’t need a shadow, she seemed to appear. And what made it worse was the fact that he couldn’t stop himself from worrying about her.

Drake totally understood her objectives, but this was his land, so every creature on it was his to take care of, with the exception of his brothers, who could handle themselves. He even worried about Red, since he was showing his age but refused to slow down. In his entire life Drake had never known the man to go to a doctor. Once, Red had fractured his arm breaking a colt and the vet had been handy, since he was taking care of one of the horses. So Red had asked him to set it and wrap it in an Ace bandage, then used a makeshift sling made from an old halter and lead. They’d all shaken their heads over that one, especially the vet.

With a motion of his hand, Drake indicated the bull grazing nearby. “Red’s going to ask Jim Galloway to recommend the best stock breeder he knows, not just in Bliss County, but in the state. We could use some new blood.” He dropped a crowbar into his tool kit and wiped his brow. “Damn hot out here. Shades of summer, I guess.”

“Not much of a breeze, either,” Slater observed, using a cordless drill to put the first screw into the new hinge. “That sure isn’t usual in Wyoming.”

Drake grimaced. “I swear it only happens if you’re repairing a fence. That’ll make the breeze die down every single time. I’ll do the dirty work and hold it in place.”

The gate was heavy, but his older brother knew his stuff and the hinge was done in a matter of minutes. Slater leaned against the fence and crossed his arms. “So, still no missing calf?”

“Nope.” Drake had searched as far as anyone could in country this size and hadn’t found anything; that was predictable. “Not a trace.”

“Too bad—but here comes trouble of a different kind.” Slater’s grin was wide. “I think your campaign of avoidance is about to go south, brother. I have to give you credit. Up until now, you’ve been fairly successful.”

Damned if his brother wasn’t right. Drake saw the unmistakable outline of the female figure walking toward them, the sun catching the chestnut glints in her hair. Any trace of guilt was wiped clean by his irritation. He muttered, “I know you find this just hilarious, but how would you like it if some eager film student wanted to follow your every movement?”