Winning the Cowboy's Heart

by Karen Rock

  “Nothing wrong with new ideas,” she charged. “The herd health program’s been worth about three to six dollars per hundredweight over the past eighteen months. We’ve had less morbidity and behavioral stress—something you’d know if you bothered reading my report.”

  “I’ll get to it. Next!” James called to Justin, and another calf barreled into the chute.

  Jewel bit her lip and got back to work, ignoring the sting of being dismissed again. She had to convince James and wouldn’t quit until she did.

  “How come you look so tired?” James pressed one of the frozen pokers into the calf’s side once it settled in the chute.

  Jewel injected the blackleg booster. “Got in late.” Her cheeks heated as she recalled tall, gorgeous, commanding Heath Loveland performing “Folsom Prison Blues.” When he sang, his powerful voice carried her with him. It drummed inside her, beating her heart, stirring her blood. It was like he was made of music.

  She concentrated on the calf’s next shot.

  “What were you doing?” James exchanged the first poker for the second.

  “Went out.” She gently pulled the needle from the calf’s skin. “Good job, MooShu,” she murmured near its ear.

  “Where?”

  “Silver Spurs.” She kept her voice even around the skittish animal, despite her rising irritation at nosy James. He had to know every detail about the ranch and those who lived on it.

  “Wasn’t Heath Loveland’s band playing last night?”

  Jewel’s hackles rose at the knowing sound in James’s voice. “I guess so.”

  James narrowed his eyes at her. “Interesting...”

  “What do you mean?” Her brothers loved tweaking her about her supposed crush on Heath Loveland, coming up with all kinds of crazy theories about her carrying a torch for him...when everyone knew she loved only three things in life: her enormous stallion, Bear; physically demanding ranch work; and her family.

  James stowed the last poker in the cooler. “I don’t mean anything. Much.”

  “I don’t like Heath Loveland.” She released the latch and the last calf of the day sprang away.

  A groan built in the back of her throat. Last night, Heath saw her as weak, in need of help. Why hadn’t she pushed back as hard as she would have battled her brothers?

  Because you don’t look at him like a brother...

  Her old mixed-up feelings returned for the boy who’d once witnessed her most shameful moment. When her father had ignored her 4-H booth’s blue-ribbon win, she’d cried. Heath, who’d had a display beside hers, had shielded her, preventing others from knowing she’d been hurt. She clenched her back teeth. Why was he always around when she was at her most vulnerable?

  Even if she might—might—have had any kind of softness for Heath, he was taken, about to walk down the aisle soon, rumor had it. She’d never be interested in a guy involved with someone else. And even if he were free, she had no use for a boyfriend and never intended on marrying, would never sacrifice her independence to a man no matter how kind and sensitive he seemed. What she wanted most was respect, something she’d have if she became range boss. It’d prove, once and for all, she was worthy—just as good as or better than her cowboy brothers.

  James began packing up the branding equipment and his silence on her supposed feelings for Heath nettled her. She blocked his way into the nearby barn. “I don’t like Heath.”

  James shrugged. “It’s your life. I’m not judging. Although, keep your distance until after the trial.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You know how those Lovelands are.” He stepped around her and disappeared in the cool dim of their stable.

  She gathered her vaccination equipment and followed. “How are they?”

  “They know how to sweet-talk a lady.”

  Her lungs expanded at the sweet aroma of freshly strewn hay. Bear, along with the other horses, picked up his head. He nickered a greeting. “I’m no—”

  “You’re still a woman. Heath’s broken almost as many hearts in this county as Jared,” James said, referring to their lady-killer brother who’d given up professional football to manage his legally blind wife’s barrel-racing career.

  Jewel dumped the syringes in a bucket full of sterilizing fluid. “He’s taken.”

  James shrugged as he stowed the coolers inside the barn’s cabinet. “Like all Lovelands, he can charm the birds from the trees, as Grandma would have said.”

  “Example?” Jewel challenged.

  James opened his mouth, then shut it.

  “Exactly. We can’t blame the Lovelands for causing our feud anymore. Clyde Farthington killed Maggie Cade for her brooch and his jealousy over her secret love affair with Everett Loveland. Our ancestors jumped to the wrong conclusions when they found Everett beside Maggie’s body and hanged him without giving him a trial.”

  “Cora’s Tear was still found on their land,” James insisted, referring to the priceless fifty-carat sapphire their ancestor had mined from the Yugo Gulch along with enough silver to buy their land and establish their ranch.

  “Because Maggie hid it at her and Everett’s meeting spot so Clyde wouldn’t get his greedy hands on it, remember?” Jewel pulled off her gloves and washed her hands in a small stainless sink. “Besides, after Cole and Katlynn found Cora’s Tear, they returned it to Ma.”

  “Fine,” James grumbled. “But what about Boyd and Ma?”

  Jewel recoiled, drying her hands on a stiff brown paper towel. “You think Boyd only wants Ma for her money? That she has nothing else to offer? You married Sofia, and she had nothing.”

  James took Jewel’s place at the sink. “That’s different.”

  “Yeah, because at least Ma and Boyd were childhood sweethearts until her parents broke them up.” Jewel lobbed the balled-up towel into a large plastic trash barrel.

  “And who’s going to pay for their monthlong honeymoon to Europe?” Without waiting for an answer, James forged on, soaping up his hands. “Ma.”

  “What if she is paying?” Jewel leaned over to scratch a barn cat’s ears and imagined her mother at Loveland Hills, packing, laughing and talking with her new husband about how excited she was to be taking this trip tomorrow, the one she had dreamed about for a lifetime. “A woman can spend her money how she pleases.” Though why waste it on a honeymoon? Jewel would never be as happy as her mother was being married; she just wasn’t the girlie-wife type, as her father put it.

  “I’m just saying.” James paused to grab a paper towel. “Going to watch Heath Loveland perform is one thing. Just don’t get romantically entangled like Ma. He’ll try to persuade you to change your mind about the easement, convince you not to fight their court case when it was a fair judgment.” James tossed away the paper towel and peered down at her. At six feet two inches, he had her by over a foot. “We’re fighting this lawsuit, no matter how Ma feels. This is Cade land. Defend it.

  “Heath is nothing to me.” Though no denying, the deep blue of his eyes had rattled her last night. “And I’ve always defended our family and this ranch, which is why it’s time you made me range boss.”

  “When I feel one of you has proven yourself, I’ll make the call.” James cranked the barn fans’ lever. They blew with a loud, buzzing roar. “Until then—”

  “You’ll continue being a control freak who should delegate tasks to spend more time with your growing family?” Jewel’s balled hands landed on her hips.

  James stared at her for a moment, then shook his head, smiling. “Now you sound like Sofia.”

  She snorted. “Another woman you need to listen to more.”

  James laughed. “You do beat all.”

  “Just as long as I beat Justin.” Jewel crossed to pet her stallion’s broad black nose. “It’s still between us, right?”

  James nodded.

  “He’s al
ready got extra work teaching ranching skills at Fresh Start,” Jewel said, mentioning the rehab facility run by Justin’s fiancée, former army chaplain Brielle Thompson. “But Cade Ranch...” She pointed at the rolling slopes leading up to Mount Sopris’s peak. “It’s all I have.”

  James squinted at her. “Maybe that’s not a good thing.”

  “I’m not cut out for marriage or a family like the rest of you.” Jewel buried her head in Bear’s warm, velvety neck.

  “How do you know?”

  She closed her eyes, shutting out the rising memories of her father’s criticism and dismissal. She didn’t measure up to what women...wives...mothers were supposed to be. “Promise you’ll decide who’s range boss by summer’s end.”

  James considered her, then nodded slowly. “I can live with that.”

  She blew out a relieved breath, pressed a quick kiss on Bear’s nose and headed for the calves. A sense of contentment stole through her as she assessed the injection and branding sites for irritation. This was her world...and for her, there was nothing else.

  Now she only had to convince James by the end of the summer, and she’d have everything she ever wanted.

  * * *

  “GOOD EVENING, CARBONDALE. Temperatures today peaked at ninety-eight degrees with humidity at twelve percent. Severe drought conditions continue to expand across Colorado, and that means an elevated fire danger just about statewide,” announced a local weatherman.

  Heath dropped the ice cream scooper in the carton to crank up the radio’s volume.

  “A T-shaped swath of northern and central Colorado is listed as abnormally dry with record-breaking temperatures continuing into next week.”

  Heath swore under his breath and his sister, Sierra, groaned. She finger-combed her long blond hair into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic band. “We’ll be lucky if we get through this summer without a major forest fire.” As a wildlife veterinarian, weather extremes were her greatest fear.

  “And without losing any cattle.” Heath plopped vanilla ice cream into a bowl and passed it to his adopted brother, Daryl, who drizzled fudge topping on it.

  “We’ve got to keep the herd intact.” Daryl’s light blue eyes gleamed beneath black brows.

  “How come, Pa?” Daryl’s eight-year-old daughter, Emma, twirled on the ranch house’s bare wood floor in stocking feet.

  “Nothing for you to worry about, darlin’.” Daryl ruffled Emma’s fine blond hair. He, Sierra and Heath exchanged silent, anxious glances. Any cattle loss put them closer to foreclosure. “Want sprinkles?”

  Emma jumped. “Yes! Can I have a lot?”

  “You got it, honey.” Sierra held up two containers. “Chocolate or rainbow?”

  “Rainbow.” Emma pointed to the colorful bow around the bun she’d worn to dance class. “I want to match like Grandma Joy.”

  “Can I have chocolate?” Daryl’s six-year-old son, Noah, scooted onto Sierra’s lap. His thick black hair, exactly like his father’s, swished across his round face. “And rainbow?”

  “Anything you want,” Sierra vowed.

  “Don’t spoil him,” Daryl warned, all while pouring on heaps of fudge. The hypocrite.

  “These are my only nieces and nephews so I’m spoiling them rotten.” Noah giggled when Sierra tickled his side. “Maybe Heath and Kelsey will have babies soon, so I’ll have more to spoil...”

  An expectant silence fell as Heath wordlessly passed over another bowl. He still hadn’t told Kelsey, or his family, about his Nashville tryout. When Pa and Cole finally got in from their fence inspection, he’d quit stalling and share his plans to drive to Tennessee next week. His stomach twisted. Would they be happy for him? Would Kelsey? Anticipation kept him up last night, imagining a future he’d never dared dream before, along with his fiery exchange with a certain redheaded cowgirl.

  An ungrateful cowgirl.

  “Can I be your flower girl when you get married this year, Uncle Heath? Huh? Can I?” Emma asked around a mouthful of ice cream.

  Heath swallowed hard as he met Emma’s expectant blue eyes. “If I do, you’re the only flower girl I’d want.”

  “If?” Emma angled her face up to her father. “I thought Mama said you were setting a date or something...”

  “Hush now and eat your dessert,” Daryl urged, his tone gentle but firm.

  “Is Mama coming?” Noah asked, his lips rimmed in sprinkles and chocolate.

  A shadow darkened Daryl’s eyes. “No. She’s got another headache.”

  “She always says that.” Emma dropped her cheek into her palm and sighed. “And she never wants to do anything except type on the computer. How come you don’t sleep at home anymore, Pa?”

  Daryl’s face flushed, and concern for his brother spiked inside Heath. Daryl and LeAnne’s nine-year marriage had problems from the start. Lately, Heath woke to find Daryl sleeping on the ranch’s sofa rather than in his family’s cabin. They hadn’t spoken about it since Daryl, like all Lovelands, valued his privacy, but his suffering was clear.

  “The drought has dramatically expanded recently,” the weather reporter droned on. “Thursday’s drought monitor indicates that more than ninety-eight percent of the state is in a drought, up from only ten percent at the start of the year. That’s a dramatic increase from just three months ago.”

  “How come it never rains?” Noah scooped the fudge circling his melting ice cream and dumped it back over the top.

  “And it didn’t snow at Christmas, either.” Emma’s face pinched. “Are we going to die like the polar bears? That’s what Jenny says.”

  “Don’t listen to foolish talk.” Daryl accepted the bowl Heath passed him and dug in.

  Heath eyed his niece’s and nephew’s wide, fearful eyes, clicked off the radio and slid a sundae toward Sierra. “We need to do a rain dance.”

  “I want to do a rain dance!” Noah hopped off Sierra’s lap and clapped his hands. “What’s a rain dance?”

  Heath stowed away the ice cream carton. “It’s a sacred ritual Native Americans do to ask for rain.”

  Noah’s body practically vibrated with excitement. “Can we try?”

  Heath shook his head. “Well, we can’t do a real Native American rain dance, but we can do our own.” He grabbed a small pot and a spoon and handed it to Emma, then passed over two boxes of elbow macaroni to Noah. “Line up behind me.”

  “She just pushed me!” Noah complained when the kids jostled for the spot directly behind Heath.

  “Did not!” Emma cried.

  “Did, too!”

  “Enough!” barked Daryl, a hint of a humor lightening his tone. “Or the rain dance is canceled due to bad behavior.”

  “Sorry!” Emma and Noah squeaked.

  “What do I do with these?” Noah held up the boxes. “They’re heavy!”

  “You shake them.” Heath demonstrated, then handed a box back. “They’ll make a rain sound to call the clouds.”

  “I’ll take one.” Daryl dropped his spoon in his bowl, snagged the box and lined up behind his son.

  “What’s mine do?” Emma gestured with her spoon.

  “My guess is you’re going to bang the pan so it makes a thunder sound to call to the sky.” Travis, their brother and the local sheriff, stomped into the kitchen, doffing his tan hat.

  Noah shivered. “I like thunderstorms, but only when Pa cuddles us.”

  “Hey, Ginger and I want in on this.” Sierra joined the lineup behind Heath, their tabby curled in her arms.

  “The more the merrier. Ready for the rain dance?” Heath glanced back and grinned at the sight of his niece’s and nephew’s expectant faces. What was so bad about pleasing people? A moment ago, they’d been scared, and he’d made them forget those fears.

  “Ready!” Emma and Noah shouted.

  “Let me grab something!” Travis sc
rounged in the utensil drawer and grabbed a cheese grater and a butter knife. He sawed the flat end of the blade against the jagged holes. “All set.”

  Heath sang Creedence Clearwater Revival’s song “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” as they marched around the long, dark pine kitchen table dominating the cozy space. Macaroni rattled inside the boxes Noah and Daryl shook while Emma banged her pan and Travis sawed on his grate. Sierra added a meow here and there. All in all, not half bad for a family band. One side of Heath’s mouth kicked up.

  “Hey, what’s this?” asked Pa as he entered the front door.

  “We’re making it rain!” shouted Noah, blasting across the open living space to throw his arms around his grandpa’s legs.

  “And thunder.” Emma clanged her spoon against the pan for emphasis.

  Pa hung his hat. “Well now. We sure could use it.”

  A wire tightened across Heath’s chest, constricting his breath. Time to tell Pa about his Nashville tryout before he bailed like Clint predicted. “There’s something important I need to talk to you about, Pa.”

  Pa nodded. “Let me just get a cup of joe first.” His normally broad shoulders drooped, and the grooves of his weathered face appeared deeper, his skin slightly gray.

  “What’s wrong, Pa?” Sierra set down Ginger and hurried to their father. “You don’t look good.”

  Pa ran a hand over his brush of silver hair, then jerked a thumb at the screen door. “Cole’s the one who’s not doing good.”

  Travis ducked outside.

  “What happened?” Heath measured out coffee grounds and dumped them in the coffee maker. Since his brother Cole’s ex, Katlynn Brennan, left after taping a segment for her cable show about the Loveland-Cade family feud, he’d been even more withdrawn than usual.

  “Hurt his arm.” Pa opened the door and ushered in a hunched Cole, his left arm in a sling, followed by Joy and Travis.

  Air whooshed out of Heath’s lungs as if someone had just drop-kicked him in the chest. If Cole was laid up, their make-or-break herding season went from daunting to near impossible.