Her Montana Cowboy

This could be a pride problem, she reasoned, particularly in the case of a man like Ryan Travers. He was used to doing things his way, relying on his own strength. And, unfortunately, it looked as if he had failed to overcome whatever trauma had led to his no longer having any siblings. Oh, he probably thought he’d gotten over the loss, but he hadn’t. Not even close. Was that what drove him to stay on the road most of the year? Julie wondered. Perhaps. And perhaps he didn’t even realize why he was so restless.

Or maybe all this is a figment of my imagination because I don’t want to admit he’s happy traveling all the time, she countered. Just because she was a homebody and content to have deep, strong roots didn’t mean that a person who preferred to move around had to be unhappy.

She sighed and released her angst. It didn’t matter why Ryan competed all over the country. He was who and what he wanted to be, regardless of his motivation.

Meaning they were totally incompatible, she concluded in spite of mental arguments to the contrary. Yes, he was appealing. And yes, she really liked him. But getting too attached to him would be a big, big mistake. One she was determined not to make.

Chapter Four

Ryan had not intended to hang around behind the scenes when the mutton busting was introduced as part of the afternoon’s entertainment. He simply had little else to occupy him while the bareback horses were removed and saddle broncs loaded into the holding pens directly behind the chutes. Stock contractors had their own wranglers and treated those horses better than a lot of folks treated their kin, meaning they didn’t want them touched by anybody else.

He got himself a bottle of cold water and drank it as he ambled over to the place where a passel of youngsters was gathered. A twenty-something man he recognized from the mayor’s entourage was instructing the kids about safety, so Ryan figured he was probably one of Julie’s brothers.

Some of the little boys and girls looked overconfident, while others seemed scared to death. It was those children who tugged at Ryan’s heart and caused him to edge closer.

He spotted one boy who seemed far too small and timid to be competing, and crouched down to speak with him. “Hi, there. Where’s your mama? Does she know you’re planning to try to ride a sheep?”

Although his lower lip was trembling, the little boy stuck out his chin and ignored the question.

“A grown-up has to fill out paperwork for you, buddy. You can’t enter without your mama or daddy being here.”

Tears welled in the child’s eyes as he looked around. “Mama’s here.”

“Where?”

“I—I lost her.”

Straightening, Ryan offered his hand. “Okay. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll introduce you to the lady who owns the sheep while we wait around for your mother to come looking for you. Then, in a few years when you’re older, maybe you’ll be all ready to ride like the bigger kids.”

“Uh-uh. Can’t go with strangers. Mama said.”

“And your mama is absolutely right,” Ryan assured him. “But since she’s bound to look for you where she saw you last, I think it would be okay to hang around and talk to the sheep lady for a bit. Her name is Julie. See? She’s right over there. The pretty one with the dark red hair and the straw Stetson.”

Smiling, he followed the little boy’s tentative steps as they skirted the group of excited children and approached Julie. The moment she looked up, he tipped his hat and eyed the boy. “My friend and I were wondering if we could maybe give you a hand. He wants to ride, but his mama got herself lost, so she isn’t here to sign for him. Would you mind if he petted your sheep?”

The grin Julie returned rested on him first, widened, then switched to settle on the uneasy child. “Of course not. They’re pretty tame, particularly around me. I’m afraid I’ve made pets of them.”

“Hey, as long as you’re raising them for their wool, no problem, right?” Ryan offered.

“Right.” Julie held out an arm. “Would you like to come in here with me or do you want to stay outside with your cowboy friend?”

The boy seemed to be considering carefully before he reached for Ryan’s hand and grasped it firmly. “Stay here.” His upturned face searched Ryan’s. “Okay, mister?”

“Fine with me.”

Ryan swallowed past a lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure what touched him more, the boy’s trust or the gentle expression on Julie’s face when she looked at them standing there together. Here he was, a tough-as-nails guy who faced fifteen-hundred-pound-plus belligerent farm animals, and he’d been reduced almost to tears by a small boy and a pretty woman. If his old friends could see him now, they’d probably laugh their spurs off.

And he didn’t care, he suddenly realized. At this time, in this situation, he was so at peace, so filled with joy, he truly didn’t care what anybody else thought.

That’s not entirely true, Ryan mused. He did care about one person. And she was bestowing the loveliest, most warm and wonderful smile he’d ever had the pleasure to receive.

If he’d been the romantic type, he might even have said it made his heart sing.

* * *

Julie saw plenty of happy families all around her, yet had eyes only for the stalwart cowboy and the trusting little boy. There was something endearing about them, not that she hadn’t seen plenty of fathers and sons together before.

She turned back to her tasks with the sheep, but her mind continued to dwell on Ryan. Perhaps the sight of him befriending the boy seemed so wonderful because he had told her he was close to no one, had no family other than his mother, whom he rarely saw. It was almost as if Julie was being given a glimpse of the kind of father he could someday become.

“Are those girls or boys?” Ryan’s young friend asked.

“These are all girls. Mama sheep are called ewes,” Julie replied. “I brought these to the rodeo because they’re so friendly.”

“I know horses can live twenty years or more,” Ryan said. “How old are these animals?”

Julie chuckled. “Be careful you don’t hurt their feelings. They might take offense if they knew you’d called them old.”

“Sorry. It’s hard to tell.”

“It can be unless you’re used to judging sheep. These are about eight. As long as I have the room and plenty of feed, they’ll live out their natural lives in my flock.”

“Not a very practical approach to ranching,” the cowboy said.

“Yes and no. Business is good and they still produce fine wool. Sales have really taken off since I updated my website. I’ve had to hire more help for lambing and shearing.”

Whatever happened, Julie was determined to keep her hands on every aspect of Warm and Fuzzy. The name of her business went back to her days as a youngster in 4-H, and it always made her smile. So did being in the company of gentle ewes and their lambs. Adult rams were another story. She never turned her back on them, even in the off-season.

“I can’t figure out the look of that wool,” Ryan said. “It’s almost silky.”

“That’s because I specialize in Leicester Longwools.”

“Lesters? Like in Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs, the bluegrass pickers?”

Julie chuckled. “It’s pronounced Lester but spelled ­L-e-i-c-e-s-t-e-r. They’re rare but have amazing fleeces.”

“They certainly do. Not that I’ve paid a lot of attention before. I guess you can tell I’m used to hanging around horses and cattle.”

The young man helping her offered his hand to Ryan. “Me, too, but I got roped into this. I’m Adam, Little Bo Peep’s brother.”

The men shook hands.

“You’re forgiven—but Adam isn’t,” Julie said with a mock scowl. She shooed him back to work and returned to her interrupted conversation with Ryan.

“The Jasper Gulch Chamber of Commerce and Event Committee thanks you and all your fellow competitors for being here,” Julie said formally.

“I’d rather you thanked me personally,” Ryan said “Will you be free tonight during the fireworks show?”

“I’d planned to watch with my family. There are a lot of us, and we usually make a party out of it.” Hesitating, she finally added, “If you want to join us, you’ll be most welcome.”