True Blue Cowboy

Mack opened his mouth then thought twice about telling his brothers the truth—they’d laugh him out of the bunkhouse. “Never mind.” He grabbed the duffel bag he’d filled with clean clothes. “I’d better get going.”

“Isi’s put a roast in the oven,” Conway said. “Stay for supper. The twins would love to throw the football with you.”

That was another thing that bugged Mack—his sister-in-law had taken the last single Cash brothers under her wing after Buck had married Destiny and moved to Lizard Gulch. When Mack had learned that Isi had lost her brothers at a young age, he’d grudgingly accepted her hovering. Meddling women aside, the dude ranch was an hour’s drive from the farm, and there was nothing between here and there but a dilapidated ice house that sold year-old beer and stale snacks. “I guess I could eat before I take off.”

“Good.” Conway headed for the door. “Porter, you’re washing the dishes tonight.”

“What are you going to do?” Porter trailed Conway outside.

“Work on the tractor.”

“You’re always tinkering with the tractor.” Porter’s voice filtered through the open windows. “I don’t think there’s a damn thing wrong with the engine. You just don’t like doing household chores.”

“You ever try to help a woman who’s eight months pregnant?” Conway’s voice began to fade. “It’s like facing a charging bull...”

Once his brothers were out of earshot, Mack closed his eyes and envisioned his body entwined with Beth’s. He’d had a one-night stand with a woman named Just Beth at the El Rancho Motel.

There was no doubt in his mind that he’d pleased Beth, but there had been something off about her behavior—almost as if going to a motel with a man had been a first for her. When she’d snuggled against his side after they’d made love, he’d wondered if maybe he was ready to settle down.

Except Beth wasn’t what he was looking for in a wife—he wanted a girl-next-door type. She was a woman who went to a motel with a man she’d met only hours earlier. Before he’d fallen asleep, he’d asked for her number but she’d refused to give it to him—a first for him. Her rejection had left him with an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

Why the heck did it bother him that Beth didn’t want to see him again? Was he losing his touch with the ladies? Mack popped off the bed, took his duffel and left the bunkhouse.

“Uncle Mack!” Conway’s son Javier raced toward him, his brother, Miguel, hot on his heels.

Mack set the bag in the truck bed. “Where’s Bandit?” Mack scanned the yard but the dog was nowhere in sight.

“He’s in the house.” Javier squeezed Mack’s thigh. “How come you’re never here anymore?”

He ruffled the dark mop of hair. “’Cause my job is far away.” He broke free, walked over to the porch steps and picked up the Nerf football. “Who wants the first pass?” Before he had his arm cocked to throw, Miguel took off. He tossed the ball, but the kid missed.

“Javi’s up next, Mig.”

“Don’t throw it too hard, Uncle Mack.” The boy ran with his head down—an athlete he was not.

“Here it comes, Javi!” The ball smacked him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Mack hurried across the yard, worried he’d hurt his nephew. “You okay, Javi?”

“I think so.”

“Hey, Javi—” Miguel sat next to his brother “—you almost caught that.”

“I know.” Javi got to his feet and the brothers exchanged a silent message.

Mack glanced between the boys. “What’s going on?”

Mig nodded to Javi then both boys tackled Mack to the ground. A scuffle ensued and they rolled in the dirt, laughing. Mack made a big show of accepting defeat, and the boys straddled his chest and pumped their fists in the air.

The porch door opened, and Conway hollered for them to come eat. The twins scampered away, leaving Mack staring at the blue sky. He and his siblings had grown up without fathers—their grandfather had been their only male role model. Mack had been surprised when his brothers had begun having babies of their own, but after watching Johnny, Conway and Will interact with their kids, Mack had decided just because his father had wanted nothing to do with him didn’t mean he couldn’t be a good father himself.

He crawled off the ground and brushed at his clothes. Time to quit moping over Just Beth. January had ushered in a New Year and a new resolution to refocus his efforts on finding a woman he could build a life with.

* * *

“I HOPE THESE accommodations work for you, Beth.” Dave Paxton, the owner of the Black Jack Mountain Dude Ranch twirled his cowboy hat on his finger and tapped the toe of his boot against the tile floor Monday afternoon.

“This will do fine, Mr. Paxton. I appreciate you letting me stay here until I figure out what to do.” The ranch owner and Beth’s father had been former college roommates at Sacramento State.

“Call me Dave.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to hear about your divorce. I doubt your father’s too pleased with Brad.”

“Actually, Mr.... I mean, Dave...” She dropped her gaze, hating herself for feeling embarrassed when she had nothing to be ashamed of—she hadn’t done the cheating. “I haven’t told my parents yet.”

“Why not?”

Beth didn’t know if her father had told Dave about her mother’s breast cancer scare, so she didn’t go into detail. “Mom’s been having a few health issues lately and I’m waiting for the right time to tell her.”

“I hope she’s okay.”

“She’s doing fine now.” Beth’s mother had two biopsies and had finished radiation treatment right after Thanksgiving. With her mom still weak from treatment, Beth had wanted to wait until she was stronger before spilling the beans about her failed marriage.

“Your parents have no idea you’re staying at the ranch.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Once I figure things out, I’ll make a trip home and talk to them.” It was the second week of January and she hoped to decide on a game plan for her future by the end of the month. “I’m more than happy to pay for the use of my cabin.”

“I don’t want your money, but there is a favor you can do for me while you’re here.”

“Sure, anything.”

“I’d like you to take a look at my retirement portfolio. It hasn’t made as much money as I’d hoped the past few years, and I’m wondering if I need to change investment firms.”

“I’d be more than happy to give you my opinion.”

His silver head bobbed. “Good.” He grew quiet, his attention drawn to the window. The ranch owner had been distracted from the moment Beth had arrived.

“Is there something the matter?” she asked.

“Millie walked off the job a few days ago.”

“Who’s Millie?”

“The housekeeper.” His face turned ruddy. “Millie and I have been courting for about a year.”

“I’m sorry.”

His fingers tightened against the brim of his hat. “We’ve had disagreements before but it’s not like her to leave me high and dry.”

The ranch housekeeper hadn’t been the only one left high and dry. Beth’s home had sold within a week of going on the market in mid-December, and she’d had to scramble to put her belongings in storage and find a place to live. Not only had she been forced out of her home, but she’d been forced out of her job. She hadn’t been fired, but how on earth could she work for the woman who was about to give birth any day to her ex-husband’s baby?

Needing a temporary place to live and lick her wounds, Beth had perused apartment listings when she’d remembered that her father’s college buddy managed a dude ranch. Her parents had visited the retreat in the past but Beth had never gone along with them—horseback riding wasn’t her thing—but a ranch was the perfect place to hole up and not have to worry about running into her ex and former boss while she contemplated her future. Besides, if she’d remained in town, she’d have been tempted to drop in at the Number 10 Saloon and ask Mack Cash if he was up for a second go-round with her.

“You’re frowning,” Dave said. “Don’t you like your accommodations?”

“No, the cabin is perfect.” The place had all the essentials—a TV, queen-size bed, love seat, chair and a private bathroom. The best part of the cabin was the covered porch that offered a stunning view of Black Jack Canyon. “If you don’t hear from Millie soon, what will you do?”

“Start interviewing new housekeepers.” He walked to the door. “C’mon, I’ll show you the rest of the place.”

Unpacking would have to wait. She left her purse on the bed next to the suitcase then locked the cabin door and accompanied Dave along the stone path that broke off from the main walkway used by the guests. “How many employees do you have?”

“Two full-time workers and three part-time. You’ll meet them at supper.” He glanced at Beth. “You’re welcome to take your meals in your cabin, but the cowboys are expected to eat with our guests.” Dave smiled. “Folks like to listen to their tall tales.”

Cowboys. Beth would never hear that word again without thinking of Mack. Even now—thirty-four days after their night at the El Rancho Motel—she couldn’t get his image out of her head. She didn’t understand how a few hours with an almost complete stranger had left a lasting impression on her. First on the get-her-life-back-in-order list was to forget Mack.

Dave stopped at the adobe cantina and held the door open for her. “This used to be an old mission outpost for Jesuit priests several centuries ago.”

Beth spun in a slow circle, taking in the plastered walls and dark wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling. A large fireplace took up a good portion of the room and resting on its mantel were portraits of Spanish matadors. A pair of sofas and chairs covered in cowhide sat near the fireplace. “It’s beautiful.”

“This was the main room of the mission. The third owners of the guest ranch converted it into a saloon and a dance hall.”

“Wow, this place is full of history.”

“There’s information about the ranch in the guest packet in your cabin.”

“How many owners has the ranch had?” Beth asked.

“Seven. The land that the ranch sits on used to be part of a three-million-acre grant from the King of Spain to the Ortiz brothers of Mexico.”

“How long ago was that?”

“1812. The Gadsden Purchase was signed in 1854, determining the border between Mexico and the United States and the ranch fell inside the U.S. boundaries.”

“Who got the land after that?” she asked.

“Former Union Colonel William Sturgis bought the property and renovated the mission. When the Mexican Revolution came, Pancho Villa fired on the main house.”

“By main house you mean the building with the lobby and dining room?”

He nodded. “You’ll see the cannonball embedded in the stucco wall when we go inside the building.”

She wandered closer to the bar and ran her hand over the horse-saddle seats. “Cute idea for stools.”

“There have been a lot of famous guests at this ranch over the years.”

“Politicians or actors?”

“A few of both. Author Margaret Mitchell wintered at the ranch and Zane Gray also wrote here.”

Beth found the information fascinating. “Any presidents?”

“Franklin Roosevelt and Lyndon B. Johnson. We’ve had a couple of ranch guests through the years report seeing an apparition in this room. You’ll let me know if you spot one, won’t you?”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” she said. Seriously—she majored in business and math in college. She possessed an analytical brain. Logic, not emotion, ruled her actions and decisions, which was probably why she couldn’t put her night with Mack behind her. She’d acted out of character—normally she dealt with facts not feelings—but the country-western singer had broken down her barriers and reached a touchy-feely place inside her that she hadn’t known existed.

“We’re empty right now, but we’re full up on the weekend.” He walked to the door. “Be sure to take advantage of your stay and go horseback riding.”

“I’ve never been horseback riding.”

When they stepped outside, Dave said, “One of our trail hands will give you lessons.”

Beth couldn’t imagine herself riding a horse. Then again she’d never envisioned herself entering a motel room with a stranger.

There was a first time for everything.

* * *

“NEED HELP WITH THAT, HOSS?” Mack stepped into the barn late Sunday afternoon and caught the retired rodeo clown struggling with a wheelbarrow full of soiled hay.

“Best get out of my way unless you want a pile of road apples fallin’ on yer fancy boots.”

When Mack had taken the job at the dude ranch, the sixty-five-year-old Hoss had been the first employee his boss had introduced him to. The surly man had made it clear the barn was his domain.

Mack stopped in front of Speckles’s stall and rubbed the horse’s nose. Hoss had been granted the privilege of naming the trail horses—big mistake. The geezer had named the geldings after rodeo clowns—Bim Bom, Coco, Potato, Bubbles, Doink, Flunky, Pooter, Zig and Zag. The only decent name in the whole group was Warrior, and he’d come with the ranch when Dave Paxton had purchased the place ten years ago. “Anything exciting happen here this weekend?”

“Millie ran off.” Hoss pushed the wheelbarrow into another stall then took a break.

“What do you mean she ran off?”

“Just up ’n’ left.” Hoss sat on a hay bale and drank from the water bottle he pulled out of the back pocket of his sagging Wranglers. After guzzling half the liquid he belched. “Didn’t leave no note. Nothin’.”

Mack knew the feeling. He’d woken alone in bed the morning after at the El Rancho Motel. Beth had left while he’d been asleep—the scent of her perfume on the bed sheets the only evidence she’d been there.

“What’s the boss going to do?” Mack asked. “He’s got that group of businessmen coming in from New York on Friday.”

“He was givin’ a gal a tour of the place earlier.” Hoss shrugged. “Maybe she’s the new housekeeper.”

“Let’s hope.” Mack was willing to do a lot of things at the dude ranch, but he refused to change bedsheets. “How’s the boss taking it?” Everyone knew Dave and Millie were sleeping together.

“He doesn’t say much, but I figure he’s hurtin’.” Hoss spit tobacco juice at the ground. “Can’t never trust a woman. They ain’t ever who you think they are.”

Hoss was speaking from experience. His wife had left him years ago when Hoss was still rodeoing. Heartbroken, Hoss rode the circuit, leaving his sixteen-year-old son home alone to fend for himself. At eighteen his son had joined the military and Hoss hadn’t seen or heard from him since.

“Maybe Millie will return in a few days. Might have been a family thing.”

“Millie ain’t got no family.” Hoss stood, the old bones in his bowlegged hips creaking.

“Wait here.” Mack rolled the wheelbarrow out of the horse stall.

“Get yer hands off my damned horse shit.”

“Settle down, old man, before you work yourself into a heart attack.” Mack wheeled the ’barrow out a side door and dumped the soiled hay into a compost pile behind the barn. When he returned, he caught Hoss rubbing his twisted fingers and knobby knuckles—leftover souvenirs from his rodeo career.

Hoss grabbed the ’barrow. “You competin’ in the Rattlesnake Rodeo at the end of the month?”

The Rattlesnake Rodeo raised money for the only medical clinic in Rattlesnake, Arizona. The closest town with a hospital was four hours west in Tucson. The residents of Rattlesnake depended on the clinic for most of their medical needs. “Yeah, I’ll probably enter.”

“Yer brothers gonna ride, too?”

“Don’t know. Except for me and Porter, they’re all married now and busy with their families.”

“Might find a wife at the rodeo.” Hoss snorted as he pitched soiled hay into the barrow.

“Sorry, Hoss. No buckle bunnies for me.” When Mack married, he wanted a down-home girl. Beth’s face flashed before his eyes... Why did she have to be like the other women who came to his concerts and just wanted a piece of him? Mack had dreamed of being a musician all his life, but lately the warning be careful what you wish for rang through his brain far too often.

He was tired of loose women fawning over him. He was twenty-nine and he’d made a promise to himself that by his thirtieth birthday he’d have found his forever woman.

That wasn’t going to happen if he couldn’t forget his one-night stand with Just Beth.

Chapter Two

An hour ago Dave had informed Mack that a guest—the daughter of a former college buddy—wanted a horseback-riding lesson. He checked his watch. She should be here any moment. Mack made sure the saddle on Speckles fit snug in case the horse decided to sprint after a desert jackrabbit. The mare’s spirited personality made her his favorite.

“You behave on the trail, you hear?” Speckles’s ears twitched and he rubbed the animal’s nose. “No showing off in front of Warrior.”

Speckles and Warrior had a love-hate relationship. Warrior developed a crush on Speckles the day she’d arrived at the ranch, but Speckles acted as if she couldn’t be bothered with the old gelding. Mack checked his watch again. “C’mon, lady. Where are you?”

“Right here.”

He spun, opening his mouth to apologize. The words evaporated on his tongue when the blood drained from the woman’s face, leaving her skin as white as Elmer’s school paste. Worried she’d faint, he stepped forward but she hastily retreated. If she toppled over, he hoped she hit her head on the edge of a hay bale and not the concrete floor.

Eyes wide, she gaped at him. He must remind her of someone—maybe a dead someone. Her lips parted then pressed closed as if her voice, along with her blood, had drained from her body. Since conversation appeared to be at a standstill he studied her, zeroing in on her mouth. When he noticed the faint scar next to her lower lip, his scalp prickled.

Her brown eyes were the same shape as...and her nose was as straight as... No. She was missing the butterfly eyelashes and long hair. His gaze trailed down her body, stalling on her breasts. Heat spread through his gut.

It couldn’t be...

“Hello, Mack.”

Just Beth? No frickin’ way.

Of all the places he’d imagined running into the woman who’d snuck off to a motel with him a month ago, the dude ranch had never been one of them. “What are you doing here?”

She blinked as if in a daze. “I didn’t know you worked at the ranch.”

No kidding. If she had, she wouldn’t have booked a cabin here. “You’re a tough lady to find.” There. He admitted he’d been looking for her. Now the ball was in her court.

She waved a hand in front of her face—her nails were short and there was no trace of the bold, red polish. Gone, too, were the dangling earrings and sparkly eye shadow. Beth wore no makeup—except for the pink shine on her lips. The woman standing before him had nothing in common with the sexy siren he’d met at the Number 10 Saloon.

“You’re busy,” she said. “I’ll come back later.”

Like hell she would. “Stay.” He wasn’t letting her off the hook that easy. “The horses are already saddled.” He led Speckles from her stall, then took Warrior’s reins and escorted the animals out of the barn. He stopped next to the horse trough and cupped his hands near Warrior’s stirrup. “Put your left foot in here and swing your right leg over the saddle.”

Beth hesitated then edged closer and grasped the pummel. When she lifted her leg, he moved his hands beneath her shoe and hoisted her—a little too hard. She pitched forward and he grasped her waist, his fingers biting into her flesh to prevent her from sailing over Warrior’s head.

She rocked back, her rump hitting the saddle hard. Warrior shifted in surprise. Wanting to be certain she’d regained her balance, he tightened his hold on her, but she took exception to his touch and attempted to twist free. She teetered toward the opposite side and Mack reached for her shoulder, but his hand landed on her breast—a mound of soft flesh his fingers were intimately familiar with.

A jolt of electricity zapped his body, triggering a flashback of their night in the motel. She made eye contact and the heat in her gaze sent a second shockwave through him. She was a live wire.

Without speaking he hopped on Speckles, took Warrior’s reins and guided the horses to the trailhead. They rode in silence. With each passing minute, Mack’s frustration mounted. He led the horses off the trail toward a shallow water hole.

“Where are we going?”

The tremor in Beth’s voice convinced him that the bold, gutsy lady he’d met at the bar had been an imposter. “The horses need to rest.”

She lifted an eyebrow but didn’t challenge him. He hopped off Speckles then dropped the reins on the ground. The mare wandered to the water’s edge and drank. “Would you like help getting down?”

“No. I’ll wait here until your horse is ready to go.”

“My horse isn’t going to leave until you and I talk.” He crossed his arms over his chest and a stare-down ensued.

“Mack.” Beth’s eyes pleaded with him. “Do we have to discuss that night?”

Ouch. That she wanted to forget the most amazing few hours of his life hurt way more than a nasty fall off a rank bronc. “You owe me a few answers.”

Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t owe you anything.”

Amused by her stubbornness, he asked, “What’s your real name?”

With a resigned huff she yanked her foot from the stirrup and slid off Warrior. As soon as her feet hit the dirt, the horse walked to the pond for a drink. “Beth Richards.” She jutted her chin as if daring him to challenge her again.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me your last name the night we—”

“Because I never planned on seeing you again.”

“You’re not married, are you?”

“Not anymore.”

Startled, he asked, “Were you married when we—”

“I signed the divorce papers earlier in the day before I showed up at the bar.”

“So you were celebrating your divorce that night?”

“Yes.”

His stomach knotted. Why was he upset that Beth had used him? He’d approached her in the bar. He’d been the one to invite her to go off with him later that night. Maybe that was the problem—he couldn’t reconcile the Beth on horseback with the Beth at the Number 10. “Why the getup?”

“Getup?”

“Fancy clothes, heavy makeup and long hair? You looked like all the other buckle bunnies in the bar.”

She gestured to herself. “I doubt you would have left with me if I’d walked into the place looking like...me.”

Was she kidding?

She dropped her gaze but not before he saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “The horses are done drinking.”

The horses could wait. He still had a few questions. “Was everything a lie that night?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you worked at an investment firm.”

“I did.”

“You quit your husband and you quit your job?”

Her head snapped up. “I didn’t quit my husband. He quit me. As for the job, I didn’t have any other choice but to quit.”

His question had visibly upset her. “What are you doing here? Hiding from an abusive ex?”

“Brad’s not like that. He’s too wrapped up in his ego to bother making my life miserable.”

Mack was relieved she hadn’t been mistreated by her ex. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here at the ranch.”

“I needed a place to catch my breath after the divorce.”

“You could have caught your breath in Cancún or Belize. Black Jack Mountain?”

“My parents are friends with Dave. They’ve visited the ranch several times but I never have.” She shrugged. “It seemed like a good place to relax and make plans for the future.”

Plans for a future that obviously didn’t include him.

“Mack, I’m sorry. I thought you were just a singer in a local band. You never mentioned working at a dude ranch.”

He kicked a rock across the ground and cursed. He’d brought up his job after they’d made love, but evidently she hadn’t been listening. Maybe he was better off not knowing what that night was all about for her. Obviously, she hadn’t been as wowed by the sex as he had or she’d have tried to contact him after she left the motel.