Cowboy Comes Back / The Cowboy's Convenient Bride: Cowboy Comes Back / The Cowboy's Convenient Bride

To her surprise, Sam settled his big hand on her shoulder, his fingers strong and warm. “You might get some anyway.”

Her surprise must have shown, because Sam suddenly dropped his hand and busied himself loading his equipment, leaving Libby standing there, feeling … She didn’t know how she felt. She liked Sam. And regardless of his good looks, that was where she would leave things for now. The mackinaw would stay on.

“I HEARD YOU’RE getting this place ready to sell.” Joe Barton stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the property as Kade threw a saddle onto the chestnut colt’s back. It was the second time in a matter of days that Joe had made the forty-mile drive from his ranch to Kade’s in order to ride with him.

“There’s nothing to keep me here,” Kade said. Anything that might have kept him there was far out of reach now.

Joe nodded thoughtfully. “I like the way you handle my colts. I was hoping you’d stay around.”

Kade smiled but said nothing. Joe had brought his own horse to ride, another excellent and obviously expensive animal. Kade finished saddling the young horse, then they both mounted and headed off down the county road to the turnoff leading toward the mountains.

Joe was not a natural horseman, but he faked it successfully. The older man watched Kade as he rode, adjusting his body so that his seat was more like Kade’s. He didn’t ask for advice and Kade never offered any. That was probably why they did so well together.

“We’ve done some trail work since the last time we rode,” Kade said. “Junior’s still learning to carry a load downhill.” A young horse had to learn how to sit back on his haunches when being ridden down a steep slope, and sometimes it took a number of tries to teach the lesson.

Joe gave a grunt of acknowledgment, although Kade didn’t think he really knew what he was talking about. Well, the first time Joe went over the head of a horse who stumbled because he carried all the weight on his front end, he’d know. Kade’s job was to keep that from happening.

“How’s your water?” Kade asked. It was a common question in the area, kind of like, “Hot enough for you?”

“Holding out,” Joe said. “But I can’t sell as much hay this year.”

“Feeding it?”

“The BLM won’t let me put all my cows on the grazing allotments, so I’m feeding part of the herd year round. They’re trying to tell me they’re reducing numbers of all animals using the land, but it’s a lie.”

“How so?”

Joe’s jaw tightened. “Because I found out they moved in a herd of mustangs two years ago. They live in the mountains during the summer, but in the winter they come down onto my allotments and eat my grass. When I bought the ranch, I bought the cattle, too. I’d planned on putting the same number out to graze as the previous owner, but this past spring the BLM cut me back by twenty-five percent. Because of the damned mustangs.”

“Doesn’t seem fair to move a herd in, then cut you back,” Kade said, wondering if the herd eating Joe’s grass was Blue’s herd. It was quite possible. “But you know,” he continued, “that’s always been mustang country. I’m not sure what happened to the herd that was there before they relocated this one, but there were wild horses in your valley before I was born.”

“How do you know?”

Kade smiled. “My grandfather used to ranch in the area. He’d let his horses run with the mustangs when he put them out for the summer. Then he’d gather the whole herd, sort out his horses and let the mustangs go.” Most of them, anyway. A few of his grandfather’s favorite mounts were mustangs he’d “adopted” on his own. The BLM finally made him stop running his horses with the herd in the 1970s, but he’d told Kade the story many times.

“Yeah? How’d he get his horses back?”

“He built a mustang trap. A classic one, with a long funnel of camouflaged fencing that narrowed down into a hidden corral.”

Joe grunted again, and then urged his mount to move faster to keep up with the chestnut. “Prior to buying the Zephyr Valley ranch, I liked wild horses. That was before I was aware of the damage they cause to the range.”

Kade debated. Argue with a man who was paying his salary and was convinced he was correct? Or just keep quiet and ride? He chose the middle ground. Diplomacy. “Any animal, in numbers that are too large, can overgraze a range. Usually, in cases like these, the feds cut back on both mustangs and cattle so that there’s enough grass. But cattle are easier to regulate.”

“The difference between cattle and wild horses is that the government makes a profit from my usage. I’m paying them for the land.”

The chestnut suddenly shied, saving Kade from having to reply. He stopped the animal and turned it back. The horse cautiously approached the scary stick lying on the ground, blowing through his nose. Then eventually got close enough to sniff it.

Joe laughed. “I’m always amazed at what will spook a horse.”

“Sticks are bad,” Kade agreed. Blowing paper was the worst.

The two men headed for home after another twenty minutes, talking about horses as they rode. Joe had always dreamed of breeding horses, and now that he finally had a ranch, he could indulge himself. He was also planning to buy and sell colts, and it sounded as if he was employing the same strategies he’d used to get rich in the stock market. Figure out the bloodlines that should prove most popular in the future. Buy low, sell high. These three colts were his first investments. Kade believed the man had chosen well.

When they got back to the ranch, Joe loaded his horse. Kade went into the trailer and returned with two Cokes.

“Is your house so bad you have to live in your horse trailer?”

Kade said yes with a straight face. And it was that bad, just not in the sense that Barton meant. Kade figured if the man hung around town at all, he’d eventually hear that Kade and his dad had been estranged, even if he might not learn why.

Not many people knew the truth. Parker Danning had been pretty good at hiding the fact that he hated his only son—in public, anyway. And Kade didn’t think anyone knew about that last huge fight, the one where he’d finally fought back for real and proved that he could have taken his father … and then hadn’t.

Walking away had been hard, but Kade refused to be his father. He’d moved out that afternoon, into the bunk-house on Menace’s farm, weeks away from his eighteenth birthday. His dad had never come to find him and drag him home as he’d threatened to do in the past when Kade had tried to leave. In fact, his father had never spoken to him again.

“You should probably put a match to it and bring in a double-wide.” Joe gestured at the house with the Coke can.

“Tempting.” In many ways. “But I can’t afford a double-wide.” Kade spoke without thinking, then wished he hadn’t. His monetary woes were no one else’s business.

“If you train enough colts, that could change,” Joe said, snapping open the can. “And I will have more that need to be trained, if you’re interested.”

“I am—for as long as I’m here, anyway.”

“I may have to do what I can to see that you stay,” Joe said, and Kade had a feeling the guy wasn’t being totally facetious.

After the rancher left, Kade fed the four horses, then went into the house to put in a few hours of work. The place felt better now that he’d cleared it out, slapped some paint on the walls. He planned to spend the colt money on flooring, and if a real job didn’t materialize shortly he hoped that Barton would send more colts his way. Hell, he could make a fairly reasonable living starting colts, if he didn’t mind the uncertainty.

But he did.

He wanted security for once in his life. He’d never had it after his mother had left his abusive dad, effectively abandoning her son when he was twelve. The rodeo life was about as insecure a life as a guy could get, everything hinging on the next big ride. And then, when he finally made it big and thought he had some security, he’d come to find out it was all an illusion because he’d trusted the wrong person. He hadn’t been the only one. Dylan Smith had bilked several people out of funds. That didn’t make Kade feel one bit less stupid.

THE WESLEY BLM personnel enjoyed four days without Ellen Vargas at the helm, while she represented their office at a state conference. She returned on Friday in a bad mood. Obviously something had not gone as she’d planned.

No one cared to ask, and since there had yet to be a staff meeting summarizing the outcome, a few random theories floated around. But for the most part the crew was simply glad she was leaving them alone. It couldn’t last forever, though, and Libby was the one who took the first hit.

“Oh, Libby …”

“Yes, Ellen?” Libby asked politely. She’d been sitting in front of her computer, supposedly working on her report. In actuality she’d been stewing about Kade and her injured horse and what Menace had said about the two of them living in the same community. Again.

“I’d like to see you in my office. Please bring any information you have on the area surrounding the Jessup Creek and Zephyr Valley ranches.”

“Zephyr Valley ranch?” Libby had never heard of it before. It certainly wasn’t on any of the maps.

“It’s the Boggy Flat ranch,” Stephen said quietly. Libby turned to stare at him, but he didn’t look up—rather like a possum playing dead. Maybe if he didn’t move or speak again, Ellen would go away. Fortunately she did, her heels clicking briskly down the hallway.

Stephen straightened up once the coast was clear, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. His brown hair was sticking out at weird angles from where he’d been resting his palm on his head as he worked. He’d managed to find another project and he was pouring all of his energy into it in an effort to keep Ellen at bay.

“The Zephyr Valley?” Libby asked. “For real?”

“For real.”

Libby shook her head in disgust. What next? The Boggy Flat had been acquired by a wealthy Chicagoan a little more than a year ago, but Libby hadn’t known that he’d changed the name of the hundred-year-old ranch.

She opened a file drawer and pulled out the hard copy on the Jessup Valley area before following Ellen into the state’s most perfectly appointed office. There was a new flower in the vase. Another orchid.

Ellen waved Libby to a seat. “You’re the first person I’m meeting with concerning the conference I just attended. The wild-horse issue was thoroughly discussed and the heads of the other regional offices and I have concluded that we should concentrate our energies on managing the mustang herds grazing on the cattle allotments.”

“Manage in what way?” Libby asked. She thought she was managing those herds.

“Reducing numbers to a more reasonable level.”

“Define reasonable.”

“The cattlemen pay for the range, so ‘reasonable’ would mean the number of horses that can be sustained without affecting the number of cattle that normally graze there.”

“What about the deer, elk and antelope?” Libby was fully in support of using the range for cattle, but when the range was in poor condition, everything had to be scaled back.

“Funny you should mention that. According to my research, the mustangs in the Jessup Valley are taking range from native species.”

“I’d sure like to see that research.”

“I’ll see that you get a copy,” Ellen said, tidying the stack of papers on her desk as she spoke. “But in the meantime we’ll focus on areas that affect the economy.”

“And that would be the areas with grazing allotments.”

“Exactly. When you finish writing your section of the land-usage report, I want you to address this issue.”

“I’ll be certain to do that.” Libby couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice, probably because she wasn’t trying very hard to do so.

Ellen set her pen on the desk. “Libby.” She folded her hands on the top of her desk and leaned forward. “Let me be blunt, since it’s a manner of speaking with which you are quite familiar. Our budget is in trouble. We need the grazing fees, and in addition to that we may have to adjust staff. At the conference we discussed the possibility of sharing personnel over several areas in a cooperative effort. One of the positions discussed was that of wild horse specialist. You have the least seniority.”

“I see.” Libby refused to let any emotion come into her voice. She had no idea if Ellen was telling her the truth or simply trying to manipulate her, so there was no sense going ballistic over what might well be nothing more than a stretching of the truth.

Ellen adjusted her glasses. “I, of course, fought to keep your position rather than have it absorbed. However, nothing is settled yet.” She paused. “I will continue to fight for you, as long as I feel you are a benefit to this office.” Another pause for effect. Two, three, four … “Are we clear on the situation?”

“Very clear.” Cooperate with Ellen or walk.

“I want you to look closely at the situation in the Jessup Valley. When you finalize your addition to the usage report, I expect to see suggestions that will take the current economic situation into account.”

Libby nodded. She might be hotheaded, but she wasn’t a fool. She’d continue with this game for a while and see how it played out, but damned if she would let this woman force her to include lies in her assessments.

“If that’s all?” she asked, holding the folder she’d brought with her in both hands.

“For now,” Ellen said. “I look forward to your report.”

Libby gave a slight smile and headed for the door.

“Well?” Stephen asked once she returned to their office.

“We have range issues,” Libby said shortly.

“Yeah.” Stephen leaned back in his chair, propping the sole of his boot on the edge of the desk. “Before Ellen went to the state meeting, she wanted to allow more grazing for the three big ranches in the area. I couldn’t recommend increasing time or number of animals on the allotments. Fred agreed with me. She didn’t like that much.”

“Well,” Libby said, thoughtfully twisting a curl around her finger. “She now believes that if she removes the horses from the range, there’ll be plenty of food for cattle.”

“She’s probably right.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours. But her thought process makes sense.”

“Her thought process is what worries me. And she came back all out of sorts from that meeting, so I’m thinking she got bad news and now she’s trying to twist things to get what she wants.”

“What does she want, Libby?”

“She wants to make friends with some rich ranchers, near as I can tell.” Libby shook her head and touched her computer mouse, bringing the screen to life. She had a report to write.

And some thinking to do.

“DO YOU HAVE plans for the weekend?” Ellen asked later that afternoon as they left the office for the day.

Libby’s jaw set at the woman’s pretended interest in her staff. The ploy was probably outlined in one of her management books. Take an interest in your staff. Show them that you care, then carefully insert the knife between the fifth and sixth ribs and twist …

“Just a long ride in the mountains,” Libby said. She dug her keys out of her jacket pocket and started for her truck.

She’d spent as much time contemplating the pros and cons of Menace’s advice to suck it up where Kade was concerned as she’d spent debating the mustang situation. She did need to suck it up. It was stupid to think that she could avoid Kade in the tiny community. So why try? Why not just find a middle ground between lovers and enemies? It was the only sane course of action. And it would prove once and for all—to both of them—that there’d never, ever be anything between them again.

And that was why she was going to do more than point out Blue’s herd on the map. She would go with Kade to find his horse.

CHAPTER SIX

JOE BARTON WASN’T exactly the man Kade had first thought he was. He’d lived a privileged life and had only a passing familiarity with the word no, but he also worked hard. He didn’t leave everything for his underlings to take care of. Kade had a feeling that had their positions been reversed, Barton would not have been fleeced out of his fortune by a no-good accountant; he would have been well aware of everything that was happening with his money. Kade had been trusting and oblivious, learning the hard way that people who said they were your friends still had to be watched.

Kade was not only learning to like Joe, he was thankful he had the three colts to train, because the job offers weren’t exactly pouring in. He really hadn’t expected to get hired on at the Lone Eagle Mine, but he’d thought he might have had a shot at a couple of the jobs advertised in Wesley—driving a propane delivery truck or doing day labor at the aggregate plant. He hadn’t even been asked for an interview. Apparently bronc busting—even world-class bronc busting—wasn’t enough of a skill to make the short list for those kinds of positions.

Sheri hadn’t called, either, since that one excited phone exchange a couple of weeks ago, so obviously the Rough Out endorsement deal was down the tubes. Kade felt no surprise. He hadn’t been easy to deal with when he’d been drunk, and he’d been stupid and arrogant enough to think that he could do as he pleased and a major advertiser would still want him to work for them. After all, sales of Rough Out jeans had jumped when he’d been used in their print ads. Difficult was difficult, however, and he’d pulled one too many no-shows on them, due to rotten hangovers.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But drunks weren’t known for making well-thought-out, informed decisions. He’d instinctively stayed away from Maddie during those months, not wanting his kid to see him in that state, and telling himself he’d get sober and make it up to her tomorrow.

Jillian had made no waves about him not seeing Maddie. She’d liked that Kade no longer upset their daughter’s controlled existence. But then he’d had a rude awakening when the IRS contacted him, wanting a whole lot of money because his accountant, the one Jillian had warned him about, hadn’t bothered to pay his taxes. Instead, Dylan Smith had pocketed the money and taken off for Brazil or some such country while Kade was left holding the bag. The big, empty bag. It had taken almost everything he had left to settle that debt, but at least it had sobered him up once and for all.

And then, when he realized he’d missed months of his kid’s life, and had no way to support her, he’d set about becoming the kind of person, the kind of dad, he wanted to be.

“Would you be interested in taking on some more colts?” Barton asked him out of the blue as they rode through the sage toward a trail leading to the mountains.

“Yes,” Kade responded. No sense playing coy.

“There’s just one thing.”

Kade glanced over at Barton, whose tone had changed. “What’s that?”

“I’ll want you under contract. I don’t want to invest in colts and then not have a trainer whose name will help sell them.”

“So I’d be guaranteed employment.” That would be nice. He nudged the colt to keep him from pausing to eat the tall crested wheat growing between the sage bushes.

“And I’d be guaranteed that you won’t sell your ranch and quit the country.”

“How long a contract?” Because he fully intended to sell the ranch and quit the country as soon as he could.

“I want sixty days put on the colts I sell, with an option to re-up for a longer period if we’re both happy with the deal.”

“That sounds reasonable.” It would take longer than sixty days to settle all the issues involved in selling the ranch once he found a buyer. And, if he was able to move to Elko after the sale, he could continue to work for Joe, since the town wasn’t far away by Nevada standards. Yes. A renewable contract was sounding better and better.

“You aren’t drinking anymore, are you.” It was a statement, not a question, and Kade wasn’t surprised that Barton had investigated his background.

“No.”

“And you wouldn’t have a problem coming over to the ranch and meeting some people, maybe show off what you’ve done with the colts you’re breaking in now?”

“Nope.”

“I’ll have my lawyer draw up a contract.”

Kade and Joe talked bloodlines for the rest of the ride, taciturn Joe growing more enthusiastic as he picked Kade’s brain. Kade felt remarkably optimistic himself when Joe finally drove his shiny truck and horse trailer down the driveway—until he went into his own trailer and listened to the voice message from his ex-wife asking him to call.

Sensing the worst, he punched in her number. The news wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t that great, either. Jillian had planned a family trip for the next weekend, his weekend, and Maddie wanted to go.

What could he say?

He had several things he wanted to say, but Jillian jumped in first.

“Mike and I will bring Maddie down next weekend to make up for it. No travel.”

“Are you sure you’re not going to plan another big event that Maddie can’t possibly miss the next weekend?”

“If you want her to come this weekend, she will. It’s up to you.”

Kade took a few paces across the trailer, attempting to keep his temper in check. “You’ve got to stop doing this, Jill.”

“I’m not doing anything except trying to keep Maddie’s life stable.”

“I’m aware,” Kade said. “Gotta go.” He hung up the phone before he could say anything Jillian could use against him and then slammed his palm against the storage cabinet beside the stove.

He needed to sell the ranch and get back up to Elko. He hoped Jason’s wife would call him soon.

KADE’S PHONE KEPT kicking into voice mail, so Libby pulled into his driveway on her way home.

No time like the present to start practicing the new role she’d assigned herself—that of a civil acquaintance. Another name for it would be ex-lover-who-hates-living-in-the-same-community-but-is-determined-to-save-face.

The door to the house hung wide open.

Libby sat in her truck for a moment before getting out, wondering if Kade’s daughter would be there again. But at three o’clock on a Friday afternoon the girl should just be getting out of school in Elko. Or so Libby hoped.

She crossed the weedy gravel to the house, the sound of hammering growing louder as she approached.

“Hello?” she called as she entered the nearly empty kitchen, remembering the many times she’d done so in the past—usually when Kade’s dad was away from the place.

The hammering stopped abruptly and Kade appeared at the end of the hall, wearing a sweaty T-shirt that clung to his chest, outlining his muscles. Libby swallowed and reminded herself of her role. Civil acquaintance.

She cleared her throat. “Uh, hi,” she said, now aware that “civil acquaintance” was going to be a lot more difficult than “angry ex.” Anger felt safe because it kept the emotions high and protected her from having to acknowledge that she still found Kade ridiculously attractive, that she could close her eyes and remember how it felt to smooth her hands over his muscles, feel his lips on her skin.

“Hi,” he echoed. For a moment they stared at one another, his questioning hazel eyes meeting her cautious blue ones.

Libby squared her shoulders then, as if preparing for a fight. “I came to tell you that I changed my mind. I will go with you to find Blue.”

His expression didn’t change. “Why?”

Libby blinked at him. “The polite thing to say is ‘thank you.’ I’m off tomorrow. Does that work for you?”

“Works fine.”

“If I’m intruding on some plans …”

“No.”

“Are you alone this weekend?”

“Alone?”

“Will your daughter be coming with us?” she asked with more of an edge to her voice than she’d intended.

“I won’t get to see her again for a week or so.”

“Oh.” She tried not to sound relieved, but she was. Riding with Kade, like old times, would be hard enough without having a walking, talking reminder of his infidelity along.