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

“Whose trailer shall we take?”

“We can take the old stock trailer.”

“Good. The road’s bad and I don’t want to beat up mine.”

Kade smiled slightly. “We could borrow Menace’s father’s trailer and get it back before he realizes it’s gone.”

“Maybe next time.” Libby smiled back, then remembered herself. Acquaintance, not coconspirator. “What time do you want me here?”

“I could swing by and pick you up at your place.”

“My trailer’s already hitched. It’s no problem driving over.” And she wanted to stay in control of her comings and goings.

“Why don’t we leave here at about 4:00 a.m.?”

Libby’s lower jaw shifted sideways. “You’re pushing things. You know that.”

There was still a hint of humor in his eyes as he said, “Yeah, Lib. I do.”

“I’ll be here at five. I have a date tomorrow night, so I want to get back early.”

After a slight pause he said, “Fine.”

“All right.” Libby felt oddly self-conscious, which made her tone brusque as she added, “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow. Hey, Lib,” he called, since she was already halfway out the door. She turned back, one had on the door frame. “How’s your horse?”

“Better. The swelling’s going down and there’s no infection.”

He smiled that smile she’d loved so much once upon a time. “I’m glad to hear that. See you tomorrow.”

BOTH THE HOUSE and the horse trailer were dark when Libby pulled into Kade’s driveway. She parked the truck and waited, but there was no sign of life. She no longer needed to be home early, since Sam had called the night before to postpone their date—he had to cover for another vet in Elko—but Libby saw no reason to tell Kade that. She wanted to hold on to that excuse for getting back.

So where was Kade? Libby got out of the truck, zipping her sweatshirt against the crisp morning air. He lived in the trailer, so she’d start there. Was he still in bed? If he was, she hoped he no longer slept in the nude.

Libby shoved the image out of her mind as she approached the side door. Kade’s trailer was top-of-the-line, with fancy living quarters in the front and room for three horses in the rear. It was shiny and well kept up, except for the area on the side where there had once been writing. The words had been painted over, but Libby could make out the outlines of the raised letters. Kade Danning, World Champion Saddle Bronc Rider.

Libby hadn’t been around for his glory days. He’d become a world champion PB—Post Breakup, or Post Betrayal. Either one worked for her. The media had loved him, though, so she still got a healthy dose of Kade, like it or not. Not long after the second world title, the one he’d won after coming back from a serious injury, Libby had been bombarded by his image on billboards and in magazines, selling Dusty Saddle microbrew and Rough Out jeans. Women loved him and men admired him. Libby had hated his guts by then, because he had lied to her in the worst possible way. It had taken her a long time to get to the point where seeing his image didn’t send a sharp stab of pain through her or piss her off. And now she was about to spend the day with him voluntarily.

She was growing. It wasn’t easy, but she was making progress.

Kade came around the barn then, leading a beautiful chestnut colt with a lot of chrome—four high white socks and a wide blaze down his face.

Libby let out a low whistle.

“He’s not mine,” Kade said before loading the horse into the beat-up stock trailer.

“Whose horse is he?”

“Joe Barton’s.”

“The guy who owns the Boggy Flat ranch?” Libby asked.

“Zephyr Valley.”

Libby was glad to hear the note of sarcasm in Kade’s voice.

“Tell me about him,” Libby said before disappearing into her own trailer and unloading her horse, a sturdy gray mare named Mouse. “Barton, I mean. All I know is he’s some rich guy from Chicago.”

“I don’t know much more than that about him. I’m putting miles on some colts for him.”

“No big political connections or anything?”

“I have no idea. Why?”

“Just wondering.” It had occurred to her that Ellen’s drive to rid the range of mustangs might be a maneuver to gain political favor; she could be doing a favor for someone influential in order to advance her career. Not too ethical, but if she was slick enough about it, it would be hard to prove.

Kade studied her, a slight frown creasing his forehead. No, she would not share her concerns with Kade. Once upon a time, yes, but not now.

Kade took Mouse’s lead rope and loaded her into his stock trailer next to the colt. The colt tried to get friendly and the mare flattened her ears.

“She’s as cranky as you are,” Kade said.

“You want company on this trip?”

Kade stepped out of the trailer and shut the door. “You know I do.” His voice was low and intimate. Libby’s belly tightened at the sound. At the memory of that voice in her ear, telling her what he wanted to do before he went ahead and did it.

She walked up to the truck and climbed inside. It smelled of Kade. She felt like leaning her hot forehead against the cool glass of the window.

Civil acquaintance. Civil acquaintance.

ONCE THEY’D REACHED the trailhead and unloaded the already saddled horses, Kade mounted easily, displaying none of the stiffness that bronc riders tended to show as they aged.

“Ready?” He was already looking up the trail, his strong profile sharply contrasted against the pale apricot sky.

“Yeah.”

Technically, she should have been leading the way since she was the guide, but Libby didn’t mind being behind him. It gave her a barrier as she recalled all the times they’d ridden in the mountains as teens—escaping together. She remembered the good times and felt cheated that things had turned out as they had.

You’re here to find a horse, not to whine about the past.

Libby straightened in the saddle, focused on the mission. She’d seen Blue three times since she and Kade had released him, all in an official capacity. The first time Libby had checked on Blue’s herd, almost ten years after his release, she hadn’t expected to find the stud still alive, figuring that a domestic horse probably would have perished due to the harsh conditions in which mustangs lived. But no. He’d not only survived, he’d thrived. His herd was about half roan, blues, reds and even a few lilacs. And thankfully they were remote, rarely monitored or gathered.

It wasn’t until the valley had burned two years ago that she’d dealt with the herd again. There’d been no adoptions, since the herd was small and healthy. Because of Glen and his dislike of bureaucracy, they’d simply moved the herd to another valley. No red tape, no protocol. For all Libby knew, Glen hadn’t even had the authority to make such a move. She’d never asked because she preferred not knowing. The important thing was that the herd was located in a place where they could find adequate range.

Libby followed Kade for more than an hour before urging Mouse ahead to catch up with him.

“They could be in any one of these drainages,” she said. “We released them lower in the valley and they migrated up these drainages for the feed. They go lower in the winter, of course.” Too low, since the herd had intruded on grazing allotments and now a rich man wasn’t happy about that.

Too bad for the rich man.

THEY CRESTED A LOW, sage-covered ridge and rode into yet another drainage when Kade pulled his horse to a stop. Below them they saw a herd, maybe forty-strong. And more than half of them were roans. Blue had done his job. Kade pulled a small pair of binoculars out of his shirt pocket and trained them on the herd, which, having caught sight of them, started to move. The lead mare had a nice new bay baby by her side, and there, traveling beside the strung-out mares, was a stocky red roan, the spitting image of Blue, except for the color.

But no Blue.

Kade frowned as he scanned the horses. Several blue roans, but none large and sturdy enough to be his horse. He gave a start when Libby touched his sleeve.

He followed the direction she was pointing, then lifted the binoculars.

“Oh, damn,” he murmured. There was Blue, a good two or three hundred yards behind the herd, alone. Limping slightly. And skinny. Very skinny.

“I think his son might be taking the herd away from him,” Libby said.

“Yeah.” Kade could think of nothing better to say. He’d been prepared for the possibility that he wouldn’t find Blue with the herd. Accidents happened in the wild. But he hadn’t been prepared to see his horse struggling behind the herd, trying to keep up with the band he had once led.

And then, as if on cue, the younger stud charged back, threatening Blue, who stopped, tried to turn on his haunches and went down due to his bad back leg. The red roan stopped, having made his point, and returned to the flank of the herd. The mares continued on down the canyon as if nothing had happened, the lead mare disappearing around a corner and into the aspens that grew along the creek as Blue hefted himself to his feet again.

Blue followed determinedly along behind them. When he disappeared from sight, Kade lowered the glasses.

“I’m sorry,” Libby said quietly. No other words followed.

Kade swallowed and then gave his head one sad shake before turning his horse around on the trail. When his knee came even with Libby’s, he met her eyes. Yeah, she felt for him.

“He probably had a better life out here than he’d have had with my old man,” Kade said. And it was true. The old man never would have sold Blue, since the stud had impeccable breeding and he could have gotten some healthy stud fees out him, totally ignoring the fact that the stud had been a gift to Kade from his grandfather just before he’d passed away.

“No doubt,” she said impassively.

It would have been better to make this discovery alone, but if someone had to be with him, he was glad it was Libby. “Let’s go,” he said.

They made their way back down the trail, and now that the horses sensed they were heading for the trailer, they picked up their pace.

It’s the way it has to be. It’s the way life ends for a stallion in the wild. Pushed away from his herd by a younger horse. Blue had undoubtedly done the same to the herd’s previous stallion.

But logic and common sense didn’t ease the picture of Blue going down and then limping after the herd. Kade doubted anything would.

LIBBY RECOGNIZED THE effort Kade was putting into keeping his face expressionless. Matter-of-fact. But the sixteen-year-old kid in him, the one who’d loved this horse so much that he’d set him free, had to be dying inside right now.

The ride back took forever, despite the horses’ faster gaits, and Libby was relieved to see the truck and trailer sitting on the road below when they came over the final ridge.

Almost over. Duty almost done. And then she could go back to her place and get on with her life. She had problems of her own to sort out. Kade wasn’t one of them. And except in a professional capacity, neither was Blue. She couldn’t do a thing for either of them.

It was a long drive home. They were both tired and Kade remained quiet. Preoccupied. Neither of them spoke until he pulled into the driveway.

Kade turned off the ignition and then once again Libby said, “Sorry about Blue.”

“I knew what I was getting into when I decided to find him.”

He might have known, but he hadn’t been prepared.

Neither of them made a move to get out of the truck. Kade leaned his elbow against the door, propping his head on his hand as he stared at the sorry old house.

“What now, Kade?” Libby asked softly. She’d thought he’d talk about Blue, but he didn’t.

“I’m selling as soon as I get it into some kind of selling shape.”

Good. She was almost ashamed of the thought. Almost. But it would make her life so much easier if he just left. “Why not sell it as is? There’s a market.”

“I have to get as much out of it as I can.” He continued to stare at the house, his expression troubled, as if he expected his dad to come bursting out of it at any moment.

Libby opened the truck door, but she didn’t climb out. “Because of the IRS?” She’d heard the rumor that he was stone broke because of back taxes. And even though it was none of her business she couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done with all his money, why he hadn’t had enough to pay his taxes. Had he gambled his money away? Drunk it away? Did his ex-wife have most of it?

She wasn’t going to ask.

“I settled that debt, but I had to sell almost everything I owned. Now I need enough money to tide me over while I get some job training. Apparently there’s not a lot of call for washed-up rodeo cowboys in today’s job market.”

Divorced, broke and unskilled. Quite a résumé.

“Has anything gone right for you?” Libby asked without thinking.

“Yeah.” He glanced up at her then, his expression surprisingly intense. She’d seen that look before, couldn’t believe she was seeing it now, and tried to convince herself she wasn’t by playing it cool.

“What’s that?”

“You’re not married.”

It took Libby a moment to assure herself she’d heard correctly. She pulled in a deep breath. “There will never be anything between us, Kade. I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

“Then you’d better damned well believe me.”

“Oh, trust me, Lib. I do.”

She didn’t believe him. Not when he was wearing his determined face, the one he’d worn whenever he was facing a particularly challenging bronc.

She gave him a long hard stare before saying what was in her heart. “I might feel for you, Kade, but the very last thing I will ever do in this life is trust you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

YOU’RE NOT MARRIED. Kade had no idea why he’d said that, but it was true. He was glad Libby wasn’t married. That didn’t mean he thought he had a chance with her—it had been a flat-ass stupid thing to say and now she had her back up again, just when it had looked as if they might be on the healing road.

But deep down, maybe he wanted her to have her back up. Maybe he preferred that to indifference.

No maybe about it. He did prefer it to indifference.

Well, Libby had been anything but indifferent when she left today. She’d been steamed and had left no illusions to the contrary. It had taken her almost three minutes to unload her horse from his trailer, load the mare into her own and drive away.

And as he thought about it, Kade realized he wasn’t all that unhappy about saying what he’d said. Sometimes a guy had to speak from the heart.

YOU’RE NOT MARRIED.

One whole day had passed and Libby was still pissed off that Kade had said such a thing. She frowned down at the industrial-gray floor tiles in the break room.

“Ahem.” Stephen got up from the long table where he’d been eating his lunch and tossed his wadded-up paper bag in the trash. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“You seem, oh, I don’t know, preoccupied?”

Libby frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“You’ve been standing there stirring your coffee for about five minutes, staring at the floor.”

“So?”

He pointed at her cup. “You didn’t put anything in your coffee to stir.”

Libby looked down. Sure enough. No creamer. “Old habits,” she said, gamely sipping the coffee black and somehow managing not to make a face. She hated coffee without cream.

“You gave up creamer?” Stephen asked dubiously.

“Too much palm oil.”

“Right.” Stephen boosted himself onto the counter, the backs of his boots clunking on the cabinet doors.

Libby gave him a narrow-eyed appraisal. “I’ll bet there’s something in the rule book about that. I just can’t believe having your butt on the counter is correct protocol.”

“Yeah? Well, Queenie can—”

A door opened and closed out in the hall and Stephen’s mouth snapped shut. Libby smirked at him as he got off the counter.

“On second thought, it’s not worth crossing her.”

“I hear you,” Libby said, although she believed that crossing Ellen was inevitable. “I’ve got a few more items to finish up on my report.”

When Libby started down the hall, Ellen was coming back down the hall from the copy room.

“Did you enjoy your weekend, Libby?”

“It was great,” Libby said before walking into her office and shutting the door, something she’d rarely done when Glen had been her boss.

She brought up her word-processing screen, put her hands on the keyboard and stared at the computer, her concentration shot because of Ellen’s inquiry.

Oh, yeah. Her weekend had been great—right up until they’d found Blue injured and limping behind his herd. And then Kade had had to top things off by making that comment. She’d give him this—he had balls. To say something like that after what he’d done … She’d never questioned his integrity when they’d been together, and it had ripped her world apart when she found he’d slept with another woman.

And truthfully, she’d been devastated almost as much by her own naiveté and blindness as by his screwing around. She’d felt foolish. So the bottom line was that she couldn’t trust him, and she couldn’t trust her own judgment. What kind of a basis was that for anything?

“ARE THERE ANY KIDS around where you live?” Maddie asked when Kade called to make plans for her next visit, which was coming up soon.

Kade hadn’t thought about that. Of course Maddie would want to play with other kids. Jason and Kira had a year-old baby boy, Matt, but that wasn’t what Maddie had in mind.

“I’m sure there’re some kids here.”

“With horses?”

“I’ll, uh, have to ask around.”

So he did. He didn’t find any kids with horses, but he learned there was a weekend craft class at the public library and a family swim at the community pool. Both good places to meet other kids. He signed Maddie up for the next class, which was lanyard braiding, paying the small fee. He didn’t know who had kids and who didn’t, so he also called the woman who’d run the 4-H program back when he’d been in it and found out she was still in charge. Maddie couldn’t join a club, but she could attend the local horse group as a guest.

Three for three. Kade went home feeling like a real dad. And he actually had the house to the point where they could stay in it if she wanted to, although he had a feeling she’d want to stay in the trailer. If she ever wanted to become a rodeo rider, she was more than prepared for the lifestyle—news that wouldn’t exactly thrill her mother.

The phone rang that afternoon and Kade assumed he’d be passing good news along to Maddie, but instead, he received an invitation to an afternoon soiree Joe Barton was holding, along with a request to bring Joe’s three colts with him—if he wouldn’t mind. Kade didn’t mind. Some time away from the house would be welcome.

“I’d like to have you meet some people and firm up a few things.”

“Sure,” Kade said. “Uh … how dressy is this event?”

“Wear your regular clothes. Jeans. Boots. Hat. It’s very casual. I might have you put that Appaloosa through his paces. I have a potential buyer.”

“No problem. See you tomorrow.”

THE BOGGY FLAT RANCH had a new sign arching over the entryway, announcing it as the Zephyr Valley ranch. Intricate silhouettes of cattle and cowboys on horseback adorned the top of the iron arch. It gave an excellent first impression and Kade had a feeling that first impressions were important to Joe Barton.

As Kade drove to the formerly run-down main ranch, he could see that more changes were in progress. A pivot was irrigating land that had lain fallow for a long, long time, and a nice herd of Angus grazed in the upper pasture. He knew from their last ride together that Barton was champing at the bit, wanting to get more cattle out on the allotments. He was ticked off that some of the other ranches had been allowed more animals than he’d been allowed, and when Kade had explained that it had more to do with the condition of the range than anything else, Barton had made a disparaging remark.

Kade honestly couldn’t decide how he felt about the guy. In some respects, he really liked him, enjoyed riding with him and talking to him about life. Every now and again it made him think about how he and his father should have been.

But then the hard-nosed businessman would appear, stubborn about wanting his way regardless, and Kade would keep his mouth shut rather than argue. He was, after all, an employee, and even today, while visiting the ranch, it was more a command performance than friendship. Joe wanted to show off his new colt trainer. And Kade, wanting food on the table and a new floor in the house, went, telling himself it was just business, letting himself be shown off like a prize stallion.

When he drove up, there were people standing on the lawn, holding drinks and talking. Joe came to greet him and signaled to one of his cowboys to unload the colts. The man immediately hopped to.

“Kade, good to see you.” He glanced down at Kade’s belt to see if he’d worn one of his big buckles. Kade hadn’t. It was one thing to wear them for a photo shoot, another to wear them to impress people. The buckles were damned huge and uncomfortable. Instead, he’d worn one of his favorites from a small rodeo he’d competed in before going pro.

Joe accompanied Kade onto the lawn, where he met a legislator, a doctor, two lawyers, a couple of businessmen and several other people who didn’t announce their occupations or social standing. All were dressed in trendy western clothing, the kind most real ranchers and cowboys couldn’t afford. Joe made certain everyone knew that Kade, the only person there wearing a plain white shirt and jeans, including Joe’s cowboys, was a world champ.

“Kade starts my colts,” he announced. “After lunch he’ll show us the three he’s been working with.” The people nodded politely and Kade hoped that Joe didn’t expect him to put on too much of a show.

The conversation turned to ranch animals, and Kade continued to sip his drink and blend into the scenery. Joe was probably disappointed that he wasn’t taking a more active role in the conversation, but he was there, and Joe would have to make do with that.

“You don’t have as many cows as I thought you’d have,” one of the businessmen noted.

“I’ll be getting more,” Joe said, “just as soon as I get the range I need.” Joe nodded at the woman he’d introduced as a lawyer—Jodie something—as if he expected her to do something about it.

“Federal ground is multiple use,” she said coolly, giving Kade a speculative look over the top of her drink. The woman had money written all over her, from the top of her classy blond head to the bottom of her fancy, handmade, red-leather cowboy boots.

“And I’m all for that,” Joe said. “Hunting, recreation vehicles, whatever. I just don’t understand why those damned horses get to graze my allotments all year long, and I pay the price. Why not limit their usage?”

Several people nodded sagely, but not the lawyer. “Wild horses were here before your cows,” she pointed out with a small smile before once again coolly sipping her drink, waiting for a response.

“They’re not wild. They’re feral,” the doctor responded.

“They’re ‘national treasures,’” Joe added sarcastically. His foreman, a genuine wannabe cowboy if Kade had ever seen one, smirked at the comment. Kade drank his overly sugared iced tea and listened to the conversation, thinking how Libby would have livened it up. She would have set them straight on feral versus wild, and just which animals had what rights and why.

And she probably would have mentioned something about people moving in from out of state and then expecting the rules to be changed for them because they were so darned important. He imagined she’d also be wearing those snug jeans she’d had on at the bar and a shirt that showed her curves. While he was imagining, he figured he might as well aim high.