A Son For The Cowboy

“Not soon enough,” Rowdy grumbled.

He saw that she tried not to laugh but failed. It was the sweetest sound. Free and easy. Like their son. He liked it.

“They’re not the most...agreeable kids, are they?” Toben asked, chuckling. They were a stark contrast to Rowdy, one he was suddenly very thankful to Poppy for. Not that he was ready to feel thankful to her. Not yet.

She shook her head. “When Rose got cancer, everyone just sort of gave them what they wanted to try to cheer them up. Now nothing seems to really make them happy.”

Toben nodded. “She better?” he asked. “Your sister?”

“Yes, much better.”

“Cancer’s a bitch.” He paused, staring at Rowdy, then Poppy. “That just sort of slipped out.”

She nodded at him, her brow arching. “It happens. And, since we’re talking about cancer, I’m fine with it.”

He grinned.

“I’ll get you both some pie,” she offered, disappearing into the house before he could answer.

They all sat on the porch swing, enjoying Clara’s apple pie and the company.

“Can we visit tomorrow night?” Rowdy asked. “Beats sitting at home and watching them play video games.”

Toben looked at Poppy over Rowdy’s head. He saw the indecision on her face, the nervousness. What was she worrying over? Considering how quickly this had come to light, he thought he’d been handling things pretty well. But...it was new for them all. And if he was smart, he wouldn’t start pushing for more time with Rowdy. Yet.

“It’s an open invitation. All you have to do is call, Poppy. And thanks for dinner.” His voice was soft. “For this evening.” He meant it.

Her gaze met his then. He couldn’t look away, didn’t want to. She was damn beautiful—the mother of his son. A boy he was well on his way to loving. A boy she’d kept from him... His anger tightened his jaw, but her brown eyes held him captive. The longer he stared, the more her wariness faded. And in its place he caught a flash of the fiery woman he’d loved for one night. The woman he’d never quite gotten over.

Chapter Four

“What do you mean, he’s here?” Mitchell stared down at her, hands on his hips, wearing a dazed expression. Poppy had waited to share the news of Toben’s appearance until they were near the barn, away from the house and Rowdy.

She knew exactly what was going through his mind—Mitchell had that sort of face. One of the many reasons she’d never let him get pulled into a poker game: he’d lose his shirt. His openness was something Poppy had always respected about the man. That and his reliability.

“Does he live here?” Mitchell asked, tipping his cowboy hat back on his head. “I mean...hell, Poppy, are you okay with...this?”

“No.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She’d spent a lot of time wondering that same thing. How had she ended up here? Never in her wildest dreams had she thought they’d end up neighbors. But giving up on something—quitting—wasn’t in her. “I’m still reeling.”

Mitchell blew out a long, slow breath. “And Rowdy?” He shook his head. “After all this time he comes by with pie and wants to play house? I’m not a fightin’ man, but, damn, I’d like to knock that sonofabitch on his ass and—”

“Mitchell!” Rowdy came barreling down the fence line, all smiles.

“Still in your pj’s?” Mitchell squatted by her son, catching him in a hug. “Sleep good?”

Rowdy shook his head. “Couldn’t sleep. Dot and Otis were arguing over their game. And the house...makes noises.”

Poppy glanced back at the house. “We’ll set up the guest rooms today. That way you have your room to yourself and Mitchell’s not stuck on the couch, okay?” Since she couldn’t fix the noises right away—she needed to find a repairman. Soon.

Rowdy nodded, yawning widely. “Sounds like a plan, Ma.”

“How about some pancakes?” Mitchell asked. “I’m starved.”

“Not sure the stove can handle pancakes,” Poppy admitted. “Might not be a bad idea to replace most of the appliances in the place.”

“Saw a little restaurant on the square.” Mitchell glanced at his watch. “Bet we could get some breakfast grub before they stop serving. If you can find some clothes, of course.”

Rowdy’s head turned right, then left. “Okay, but where is—”

“They’re in the barn, Rowdy. Mitchell and I got them situated but you can go say hi real quick,” Poppy interrupted. “We’ll go for a ride after breakfast, okay?”

Rowdy dashed toward the barn, grinning. She was still smiling when she looked at Mitchell. In an instant her smile was gone. The man was staring at her, hard.

“What?” she asked, concerned.

“I don’t trust him,” he said, his voice low.

Poppy’s throat felt tight. She didn’t either.

“I’ve been with you and Rowdy through...everything. Don’t expect me to be all right with this asshole just showing up. Can’t do it.” He shook his head. “What’s his plan? What does he want?”

She stepped forward, placing her hand on his arm. “I don’t know. We haven’t exactly talked things through yet.” Something she’d rectify soon. She patted his arm. “For the record, I’m not fine with it either. But what can I do?”

He glanced at her, then at her hand on his arm.

She took a step back and shook her head. “I don’t like the look on your face, Mitchell Lee. So stop it. I’m going to wake my sister’s monsters so we can go eat.” She headed back toward the house, hoping Otis and Dot were already moving. They seemed to prefer staying up and sleeping in—the exact opposite of her and Rowdy’s schedule. “I thought you were coming in tonight,” she called back over her shoulder.

“Yeah, well... Poppy,” Mitchell called out, stopping her. “I like the place.”

She nodded, smiling. “Me, too.”

Dot and Otis were up, fighting over the sink and the toothpaste, the dripping faucet...even the towel. Poppy ignored their bickering, trying not to worry about whatever Mitchell’s look meant. And Rowdy. In the last twenty-four hours, Poppy’s level of anxiety had quadrupled. She wasn’t a worrier; she was a doer. But she didn’t know what to do about this situation.

“Why can’t we just eat cereal?” Otis asked. “It’s too early to go out.”

“It’s nine, Otis,” Poppy said. “And I don’t have any cereal. So we go out or you go hungry.”

“Figures,” Dot murmured. “Way to be prepared.”

Poppy shot her niece a look. “We’ll be more prepared when you help me shop later, Dot.”

Dot’s eyes narrowed and her lips flattened, but she didn’t say anything.

“Who’s ready?” Mitchell asked, standing in the doorway.

“I am,” Rowdy answered. “Starving.”

Poppy followed them outside, reminding herself that she was the grown-up and she needed to keep her temper in check. Dot and Otis’s life had been tough the last year. She knew how difficult it was to see your mom waste away. It took a toll on children, made them harder. But Dot and Otis were lucky, Rose was getting stronger every day. Until their family was reunited, Poppy would continue to be calm and consistent with her niece and nephew—not lose her cool even though she was on edge.

They loaded into her truck, buckled in and drove out the gate of the small ranch she already thought of as home. She listened to Rowdy and Mitchell’s banter as they drove along the winding back roads, admiring the picturesque hills, cedar and stone fences, and lazily grazing cattle. This was beautiful country.

A few homesteads cropped up as they drew closer to town.

Turn-of-the-century homes. Church turrets. A city park with a grand gazebo. Then Main Street led into town square. Stonewall Crossing had a grand courthouse, surrounded by old oak and pecan trees and carved benches. It was charming and, according to the property agent who had found the ranch for her, a tourist treasure. She drove along Main Street until they reached Pop’s Bakery. The town was already bustling, making parking scarce.

“Looks crowded,” Mitchell said. “Good sign.”

She parked, smiling as Rowdy bounced out of the truck and toward the shop. Otis and Dot seemed to perk up, too, following Rowdy without dragging their feet.

The smell of cinnamon, coffee and bacon greeted them. Poppy’s stomach growled.

“Hungry?” Mitchell asked, chuckling.

She nodded. She hadn’t eaten much last night.

“Me, too,” Mitchell said. “There’s a table over there.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her to the table against the far wall.

She went, returning the smiles and nods of the curious residents of Stonewall Crossing. She was curious about them, too. They’d just been seated when a woman approached the table. Tall and blonde, she had bright eyes and an engaging smile.

“Poppy White? Welcome to Stonewall Crossing.” She stuck out her hand. “Renata Boone.”

Poppy felt the blood drain from her face. “Renata Boone?” She shook the woman’s hand. A glance at Rowdy told her he’d missed the exchange.

“You can’t take five steps without running into a Boone in Stonewall Crossing.” An older man joined them. “Carl Stephens, owner of this fine bakery. How you settling in at the old Travis place?”

“Gorgeous country,” Mitchell offered.

Poppy nodded, processing Mr. Stephens’s comments. “There’s some work to be done.”

“Ma’s got big plans,” Rowdy said. “She doesn’t mind work.”

“This is my son, Rowdy. My niece, Dot, nephew, Otis, and Mitchell Lee.” She ruffled Rowdy’s hair.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your breakfast,” Renata said, her attention wandering around the table. “But I’d love to talk to you about participating in the Fourth of July festivities. And rodeo, of course. Maybe even riding in the Grand Entry? It’s a pretty big deal, as you know. Might be a good way to open your shop, if it’s ready by then?” She paused, pulling a card from her pocket. “Anyway, I’d love to visit with you.”

Poppy read the card. Renata Boone, Stonewall Crossing, Director of Tourism. Regardless of who or what she might be to Toben, Poppy needed to make a place for herself here. And Renata Boone would have the connections to make that happen. She smiled at the woman, adding a sincere, “I’d like that, thank you.”

“Taking some kolaches to the guys?” Mr. Stephens asked Renata.

Renata nodded. “Bottomless pits, every single one of them. You know that old saying, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? Pretty much true of every Boone I know.” She waved before heading to the counter, collecting her box and leaving the bakery, a little bell ringing as the door closed behind her.

“Take a gander at the menu, I’ll be back to take your order.” Mr. Stephens offered them menus before heading to another table.

Poppy took one, but her focus remained on the pretty blonde woman walking down the cobblestoned sidewalk until she disappeared around the corner. She was a Boone. But where did she fit?

“Ma, can we get pancakes and bacon?” Rowdy asked, drawing her attention.

“Sure,” she agreed. “Sounds good to me, too.”

“Make that three,” Mitchell joined in. “Extra pancakes. And bacon.”

Rowdy laughed, using Mitchell’s favorite joke. “Gotta fill up both legs?”

“You know it,” Mitchell agreed.

Poppy watched the two of them with a smile.

Mr. Stephens returned, his pen hovering over a small notepad. “What’ll it be?”

“I want some grapefruit,” Dot piped up. “Or a cantaloupe and cottage cheese.”

Carl Stephens scratched his head. “A grapefruit I can do—I think.”

Dot sighed, dropping her menu on the table.

“You want a grapefruit over pancakes?” Otis shook his head. “Not me.”

Poppy grinned, watching Dot’s expression waver. Why was she pushing so hard? Determined to be so damn disagreeable?

“The pancakes are real good,” Mr. Stephens said. “And we’ve got some fresh strawberries I can put on top, if you like.”

Dot looked at the older man, smiling slightly. “Yes, thank you.”

Poppy breathed a sigh of relief, finishing their order.

“Oh, and coffee,” Mitchell added. “Lots and lots of coffee. Please.”

“I can do that.” Mr. Stephens smiled, collected the menus and headed back to the counter.

“Well, everyone seems nice enough,” Mitchell said, nodding at the two men at the table opposite them.

Poppy nodded, trying—and failing—to dismiss Renata Boone’s connection to the Boone family. It had been seven years, give or take a few months. It was possible Toben had finally met someone he wanted to settle down with.

She glanced at Rowdy.

For all she knew, Toben was married with kids. Rowdy might have brothers and sisters. She and Toben needed to talk. “When are you thinking of opening the store?” Mitchell asked, effectively redirecting her line of thought.

She shot him a grateful smile. “The sooner, the better. With the Fourth on the horizon, makes sense to have the place open. It’s in decent shape, really. I can take you over—”

“Not again.” Otis sighed. “We spent hours there yesterday.”

“You’re playing your game, anyway,” Rowdy pointed out. “You can do that anywhere.”

“I’d like to see the shop,” Mitchell said.

But Poppy had made her son a promise and she made a point of never breaking them. “Maybe. After we take the horses out for a ride.”

Dot and Otis moaned, but it didn’t matter. Rowdy was smiling ear to ear.

* * *

TOBEN NODDED AS his cousin Renata slid a big box of pastries onto the long table. He poured himself another cup of steaming coffee and sat in the break room off the ranch offices. Considering the ground he had to cover today, he needed more coffee—and some of whatever Renata just carried in.

“You’re looking a little bleary-eyed, Toben.” She patted him on the arm. “No worries—I brought food to help start things on the right foot. My brothers around?”

He nodded, sipping his coffee as he peered into the box of breakfast treats. “Hunter’s in the office. Fisher’s at the vet hospital today.” The sound of crunching gravel and the roar of a diesel engine drew his eye to the front window. “Looks like Archer’s truck just pulled up.” He bit back a curse and swallowed his coffee. It was too early for Archer. He and his cousin, a know-it-all sonofabitch, didn’t always see eye to eye. Yes, Archer was better now that he had Eden and the girls. But when it came to work, he was still the same old insufferable ass he’d always been.

“Pull an all-nighter?” she asked, smiling.

“I wish,” he mumbled, taking a hearty bite out of a sausage pastry.

“Don’t tell me Toben Boone was turned down.” Renata sat in the chair beside him.

He shook his head and rested his elbows on the long wooden table. After he’d forced himself to leave Poppy’s place, he’d been unable to sleep. He replayed every second with his son—over and over. He lay in his bunk, his mind racing with questions he wanted answered. Stupid things like Rowdy’s bedtime routine. Did he have one, growing up on the circuit? What was his favorite food? He’d said he liked pie but Toben didn’t know if he was being polite or honest. Did he like rope tricks? Know how to play horseshoes? Was he left-handed, like Toben was?

He wanted to know more. To see more.

Rowdy’s smile. His laugh. He was a fine boy. Poppy had done a good job.

But once he started thinking about Poppy, things got mixed up. It’d be easier if she weren’t...Poppy. But she was. She was the same. And now she was the mother of his son. And while he was undeniably proud of his son, Poppy’s part in this turn of events was a raw and open wound.

He slammed his coffee cup down on the table with unexpected force.

“Still stewing?” Deacon asked, entering the break room and pouring himself a cup of coffee. Archer trailed behind.

“Hush,” Renata said. “I don’t know what’s eating him, but it’s too early to pick. Be nice, boys.”

Toben shot his cousin a grin, accepting the kiss she pressed to his temple.

“Archer, I have an idea,” Renata said. “I know it’s early, but I met Poppy White at Pop’s Bakery today and she might be someone to bring in for next summer’s riding camp. We could finally have an advanced camp, see if she’d agree to teach some tricks, maybe even consider some one-on-one training for future barrel racers?”

Toben sat back in his chair. Here he was hoping he’d catch a break. Couldn’t a man eat his breakfast in peace? He glanced at Archer—curious to hear what his prickly cousin would have to say.

“Poppy who?” Archer asked.

“White.” Renata rolled her eyes. “She’s rodeo royalty, someone that could help the refuge.”

“Why would she want to?” Archer asked, pouring himself some coffee.

“She has a son.” Renata leaned against the counter. “Well-spoken little guy, all manners and smiles. Made me think she might be good with kids.”

Toben was grinning as he stared into his coffee cup. She’d described Rowdy to a T. His boy did have manners. And a smile—his mama’s smile. His grin faded.

“Guess so. If Toben’s okay with it?” Archer asked, peering into the pastry box.

Toben sat up then, leveling a hard stare at Deacon. “Really?” Archer knew? Shit.

Deacon held up his hands. “He heard us talking.”

Archer looked back and forth between them, one brow arching high. “What?”

“I’m missing something.” Renata pushed off the counter, her attention bouncing between the three of them. “What’s going on?”

Archer and Deacon stared at him, clearly intending for him to be the one to share the news.

“You don’t like her?” Renata asked. “I guess you know her from your rodeo days? She seemed perfectly nice to me. So did her son and fella. Good-looking guy and a real cute family—”

Toben stood so fast he bumped his coffee cup onto the floor. He shook his head, mumbling a curse as he hunted down some paper towels. He knew they were watching him, knew he was making a jackass out of himself and knew there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

So her boyfriend was here, the one Rowdy had mentioned? So what? Shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t care. It didn’t change the fact that Rowdy was his son... He needed to make sure Poppy’s fella understood that. He finished wiping up his mess and put the coffee cup in the sink, his chest heavy.

He was a near perfect stranger to his son. Apparently this man wasn’t. He got to have breakfast with him. Might even have the chance to put him to bed. His grip on the counter tightened.

“Toben?” Renata’s voice was concerned. “I’m really sorry. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I didn’t mean to get you all riled up.”

He shook his head, taking his time before he turned to face them. When he did, he tried his best to keep his emotions in check. “You didn’t do a thing, Renata. I did.”

“Now, hold on a minute,” Deacon interrupted. “Normally I’d agree with you.”

“She should have told you,” Archer joined in. “She’s in the wrong. Plain and simple.”

Toben took heart in their support. And let his anger rise.

Deacon read the change in his posture and said, “But what you said yesterday was right—you’ve got to keep a cool head. If you’re wanting to get close to this boy, you can’t make an enemy out of his mother.”

Toben nodded. He knew this. But, damn, he was angry. Furious. At her. And himself.

“I hate to pry here but—”

“I’m her son’s father,” Toben said, answering Renata’s question before she could ask it. “Poppy White’s boy? He’s my son.” Pride welled within him.

Renata’s eyes went round. “Oh...well...” She blinked, the play of emotions on her face almost comical. “You...you didn’t know?”

“She didn’t tell him,” Deacon offered.

Renata slumped back against the counter.

“Wrong. Plain and simple,” Archer repeated, smacking his hat against his thigh. “Gotta get back to the refuge. Think before you act.” He nodded at Toben, grabbed two pastries and headed back to his truck.

“I don’t know what to say,” Renata said. “Does Tandy know?”

Toben shook his head. He hadn’t told his twin sister. He couldn’t. She’d be just as devastated as he was—but for her own reasons. Besides, he didn’t want everyone involved in his business. Having Archer, Deacon and Renata involved was three people too many in his book. “I’m trying to keep some kind of lid on it for now. Hard enough trying to figure things out on my own without getting the family involved.”

“Guess that means I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut?” she asked. “Did you tell Archer that?”

Toben shook his head. “Figured he wouldn’t say much, considering the topic.”

Renata nodded. “Probably right. If it’s not horses or Eden and the girls, he doesn’t have much to say.”

He glanced at the wall clock. “Daylight’s a-wasting.”

“If you’ve got something to do, I can get started without you,” Deacon offered.

His first instinct was to go. He didn’t know who Poppy had in her life or what role he played in Rowdy’s. But if the man had been around for a while, then Toben couldn’t let himself get all fired up about it—in front of Rowdy. “I’m not sure now’s the right time for a visit,” he admitted. “I don’t want to press my luck or do something stupid in the process.”

“I hate to agree with Archer, but...‘think before you act’ is pretty good advice.” Renata hugged him again. “And congratulations. You might not be ready for it yet, but the family’s going to welcome your boy with open arms.”

She was right. The Boones believed in family. And Rowdy was family.

He and Deacon headed out shortly afterward, intent on repairing one of the windmills. A tornado had skirted the ranch a couple of weeks back and the strong winds had damaged two of the blades, throwing off the spin and affecting the entire mechanism. With drought concerns on the rise, the windmill needed to be working so the livestock had plenty of water.

By the time the sun was high, they’d replaced the two blades. They ate a late lunch in the mill’s long shadow, barely a word said between them.

It took effort, but Toben kept all thoughts of Poppy at bay. Rowdy not so much. He wanted to do something with his son—but what? That was the question. How did he make up for six years in a couple of days? It would take time to earn the boy’s trust—he knew that. But patience had never been one of his strengths. If he had it his way, he and Rowdy would jump right into it—father and son. Something he figured Poppy wasn’t ready for.

He pushed aside her image, the lingering sound of her laughter as they’d sat on her porch enjoying pie. He loaded his toolbox into the back of the truck, frustrated all over again.

They headed to the vaccination shed next. Toben’s uncle Teddy, owner of the entire ranch, had plans to vaccinate the cattle next week. It was no small undertaking, something that required working chutes, sturdy pens and all hands on deck. Safety was a top priority on the ranch—for the animals and the employees. A faulty chute or damaged pen could cause disaster. Between him and Deacon, they tested every fence, chute and gate latch that afternoon.

“I’m calling it,” Deacon said, pouring water over the back of his head.

“Tired already?” Toben teased, smiling. They’d worked hard. Uncle Teddy would be happy.

“Damn straight,” Deacon answered. “And hungry. Those were some sad sandwiches you packed.”

Toben laughed. “I didn’t hear you complain when you were eating them.” He climbed in the truck as Deacon made the engine roar to life. He wiped his face with his bandanna and hung his arm out the window. He glanced at the dash. It was only six thirty-five. Not too late to stop by for a visit.

“You going over there?” Deacon asked.

“Thinking about it,” he murmured. All damn day. He’d had a welcome-enough reception the night before. But now that another man was in Poppy’s house, would that still be the case?

Chapter Five

A steady cloud of dust rose up behind the white truck pulling up her drive. It read Boone Ranch on the side—sending Poppy’s stomach into knots and Rowdy running down the steps to meet the truck.

“He call?” Mitchell asked.