Her Cowboy Boss

He chewed the side of his cheek and nodded several times.

“You knew her...” she prodded.

“Yeah, I did,” he agreed. “If you’re wanting to find out more about her, Winona went to the local high school. You might find some old photos there. And people knew her...lots of people knew her.”

“What church did she go to?” Avery asked. That might be another avenue to sleuth out, and perhaps thinking about Winona would spark some old memories for Louis.

Louis chuckled. “She wasn’t much into church when she lived here, I’m afraid.”

That was a surprise, because Winona had been a spiritual woman as far back as Avery could remember.

“I guess we all change over the years,” Louis said slowly. “We grow and learn, and let go of a few mistakes.”

His words sank down into the pit of her stomach. Was he referring to Winona, or to himself? Was that what Winona was to him—a mistake? Somehow, Avery hadn’t considered that option, but obviously Louis had married someone else and started a family of his own. Maybe that was the way he remembered Winona, after all. A wave of resentment crashed over her... Her mother deserved better than that, a whole lot better. Unless Louis was lying. Maybe he didn’t want his balance here upset.

“Did my mother ever contact you?” she asked a little more curtly than intended.

“No.” Louis frowned slightly, her intention seeming to miss him. “She didn’t have any reason, that I know of.”

“I just—” Avery shook her head. This wasn’t the right moment to announce it all. “I was curious about why she would walk away from this town and never mention it again until her last days.”

That was a roundabout way of getting at it. Why had her mother walked away from here, from Louis, and never looked back?

“She didn’t talk about Hope?” Louis asked.

“Nothing more than to say she’d grown up here,” Avery replied. “And that she never wanted to come back.”

“Oh.” Louis sucked in a breath, then blew out a sigh. “She must have had her reasons...I suppose.”

“You don’t know why?” Avery pressed.

Louis was silent for a moment, and then he fixed his dark gaze on Avery and said quietly, “You say she was a church lady in Kansas. Right?”

“Yes, she was very devout,” Avery replied.

“Well, she wasn’t like that here, you see,” he said quietly. “She was—” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “She was a fun girl, and she knew how to let loose. She...knew how to have a good time, and broke a few hearts. You get my drift?”

Was he suggesting what she thought he was? Anger boiled up inside her. Her mother had only been gone for a couple of months, and to hear her spoken of like that...

“Are you saying she slept around?” Avery snapped. “Because I don’t believe that for a second! If you knew her like you claim—”

“Look, I’m only saying this because you’ll find out anyway if you start asking around,” Louis said, apology written all over his face. “But your mom looked for love in all the wrong places, and it sounds like she started looking in the right places when she got to Kansas. So you’ve got to give her credit for that.”

The tone was gentle, almost too gentle, but his words sank in. If her mother had slept around, it would certainly explain her reluctance to tell Avery about her life here...but it was still almost impossible to believe. Winona wasn’t that kind of woman! She wore necklines that covered her cleavage, and hemlines that skimmed her knees. She was careful not to be “overly friendly” with married men, lest someone think she was flirting. On the other hand, she did know an awful lot about how men worked...

“I see—” Avery tried to stem the rising tears. But a reputation was a very subjective thing, and perhaps Louis was more prudish than most. She’d known her mother had had a relationship at some point, because Avery was the result. Maybe Hope was just an old-fashioned little town whose population got easily scandalized. Maybe Louis was the kind of man who blamed the girl he got pregnant.

“But I liked her a lot,” Louis added. “Your mom was a good person.”

As if that made this better. He’d just called her loose. She’d been hoping to find a father who had at least loved her mother, even if they hadn’t worked out. Winona had deserved to be loved.

I liked her a lot. That wasn’t enough. There was a couple of beats of silence between them, and Louis put his hat back on his head.

“Were you one of the heartbroken guys?” Avery asked.

“Me?” He shook his head. “No, no... I knew where I stood. I was just some ranch boy. She had her eyes on the city.”

“So...you and my mother weren’t serious?” she pressed.

“Serious?” He shot her an odd look. “Sorry if I gave the wrong impression there. We were nothing more than good friends.”

That was the story he was sticking with? They’d obviously been significantly more than good friends for a least one night, but it didn’t look like he was going to admit to that—at least not today. Besides, her mind was whirling with this new bombshell he’d dropped on her, and she needed to process it alone.

“I’d better turn in.” She hooked a thumb back toward the bunkhouse. “I’ve got an early morning.”

“Look, I’m sorry to hear about your mom’s passing,” Louis said. “Real sorry.”

“Thank you.” She stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“Well, have a good night.” He turned back toward his truck. “And welcome aboard.”

Avery watched him go. If Louis wasn’t willing to admit to even a casual relationship with her mom, then he might not be too pleased to discover that he’d fathered a child with her. What was it that he said, that some people grew and learned and let go of their mistakes? Somehow Avery doubted that she’d be welcome news. She might very well be one his mistakes that he gratefully set free. It would be wise to find out what she could about her biological family before courting rejection.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Hank awoke at 3:30 a.m. and rolled over with a moan. He’d promised to give Avery a hand with breakfast, and though he was exhausted, he found himself grudgingly looking forward to it.

He tossed back his covers and sat up, rubbing his hands over his eyes. This house had had five years to be brought back down to a man’s level, and all remnants of Vickie’s touch around the place had been erased. He slept in the center of his bed, spread eagle. His bathroom contained soap, shaving gel, deodorant, a toothbrush and shampoo—that was it. His bedroom was clean, but sparsely decorated, just the way he liked it. He had no reason to complicate his life with frills.

He flicked on the TV mounted on the wall opposite his bed as he ambled into the bathroom. He could hear the muffled voice of the news announcer talking about the weather. Mostly sunny, high of eighty, 20 percent chance of showers. The weather mattered on a ranch—rain mattered, heat mattered. There were eight hundred head of cattle that needed to be watered and cared for.

He washed his face and reached for his shaving gel. Sometimes he’d let his scruff go for a few days, but this morning a clean shave felt worth it. Fifteen minutes later, he was dressed and he left the house, slamming the door shut behind him. He headed down the gravel drive that led to the canteen. Rocks crunched under his boots, and cool morning air carried the scent of cows and grass. The Harmon Ranch was home in a way that he’d never anticipated when he first took this job. Back then he’d been a young husband looking for a better wage—period—but he and Louis had forged a close relationship over the years through their personal tragedies. He’d never expected the position to last longer than his marriage, but it had, and this familiar land, the cycle of the seasons, a warm, dark summer morning, felt safe.

The sun was beginning to warm the edge of the eastern horizon, but all was still dark and quiet. The canteen door was unlocked, which meant Avery was likely already in the kitchen. He locked the door behind him and saw light shining through the circular window of the swinging door.

“That you, Hank?” she called.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He walked into the kitchen.

She stood by the sink, tying an apron around her waist. She looked up as he came in.

“Morning,” she said, a smile on her lips. Her hair was a little tousled, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup—just that milky white skin and the red fringe of her lashes. “So what’s the plan?”

“We have to put out thirty-five pack lunches,” Hank said. “And get breakfast cooked. I can do the lunches.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a box of hairnets. “You should probably use one of these.”

That should make her a little less appealing to the guys.

“Of course.” She flushed as she pulled her hair back, then twisted it into a bun at the base of her neck. “Give me a hand?”