Cowboy Up

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  From the wash rack Clay saw Nick’s truck pull into the circular gravel drive in front of the ranch house. Dominique got out and walked up the steps to the house, while Nick headed over to join Clay at the wash rack.

  “Big doings today,” Nick said as he approached. “Dominique came over with me so she could help Sarah get some of the supplies out there this morning. We, of course, are supposed to carry on as if nothing is different.”

  Clay wondered what Nick would think if he knew how absolutely different everything was today, at least for two people on this ranch. “I think Emmett suspects something’s going on with his birthday. It’s hard to put anything over on him.” And although Clay didn’t regret a single second he’d spent with Emily, he’d been ignoring that salient point the whole time.

  “He probably does suspect something. Oh, well.” Nick glanced over at Patches. “Don’t you suppose that’s enough hose time on his rump?”

  “Absolutely!” Clay turned the spray on the horse’s withers. He’d been caught daydreaming and paying no attention to his job. That was likely to draw attention because he wasn’t known as a daydreamer.

  “Have you washed his penis and foreskin?”

  “Yep.” Clay had taken care of that first thing, because he had a feeling he’d be absentminded today between his lack of sleep and his preoccupation with Emily.

  “Then I’ll go fetch Cookies and Cream so we can get this show on the road.” He started in through the back door of the barn.

  “Uh, Nick?”

  He turned. “Yeah?”

  “Any objection if Emily pokes her head in during the procedure? She wants to see how this works.”

  “I don’t care, as long as she’s quiet and doesn’t distract Patches. But… did Emmett make a special request to let her watch?”

  “No, why?”

  Nick pushed back the brim of his hat and stuck his thumbs in his belt loops. “Well, because I thought we didn’t much like her, Clay.”

  “I know that’s how everybody feels, but—”

  “I mean, she’s taking Emmett’s money and has the gall to sneer at how he makes it. So I’m confused as to why we should accommodate her request unless Emmett wants us to.”

  Clay wasn’t prepared for his visceral response to having someone attack Emily. His words came out harsher than he’d meant them to. “She’s not like that.”

  “Oh, really? What makes you think so?”

  In the afterglow of last night’s lovemaking, Clay had forgotten that everyone on the ranch, with the exception of Emmett and now Clay, thought Emily was an ungrateful brat. But Clay wasn’t at liberty to talk about the inheritance lie Emmett had been telling his daughter, or even that she’d saved every penny Emmett had sent her.

  He thought about what he could say without betraying her trust. “I spent some time with her yesterday, and I just think we might be misjudging her.”

  Nick studied him. “I see.”

  “Look, I’m just saying—”

  “Am I remembering right that you had a major crush on her the summer you came to live here and she visited for a week or so?”

  Clay shrugged. “I might have. Don’t remember for sure.”

  “I do.” Nick pointed a finger at him. “And you did. She was sashaying around in those Daisy Dukes and your tongue was dragging in the dust.”

  “Your memory is better than mine, then.”

  Nick gazed at him, his expression thoughtful. “She can watch, I guess. But be careful, buddy. According to all I’ve heard, she’s a scheming little—”

  “No, she’s not. I’ve talked to her, and she’s not like that.”

  “If you say so. I’m reserving judgment. Once she stops accepting those checks, I might be convinced that she’s a nice person, but from where I sit, she’s taking advantage of a guy I happen to care about, and that doesn’t sit well with me.”

  “Nobody’s forcing Emmett to mail those checks.”

  “No, but all Emily has to do is bat those big green eyes at him and whine about how much she’s missed having a father around. She plays on his guilt and he writes checks. Simple as that. Oh, and you’re creating quite a mud puddle there. I think Patches is clean enough.”

  As Nick headed into the barn, Clay turned off the hose and swore under his breath. That had not gone well. When Emily made her innocent request to watch the semen collection process, she’d probably also forgotten that she wasn’t a popular visitor around here.

  Clay hated that for her, because she didn’t deserve such a bad reputation. But he’d promised to keep their conversation to himself, and that meant he was helpless to protect her from any snubs that might come her way. He understood why she didn’t want to confront Emmett today, on his sixtieth. But tabling that discussion would make her life a lot tougher.

  Damn, he wished he knew where his hat was.

  Chapter Twelve

  Emily could have waited for her dad in the living room, but Sarah and Dominique were in there making lists of supplies to take out to the picnic site, and Emily thought she had a better chance of a moment alone with her father if she stayed in the kitchen with a cup of coffee.

  Mary Lou was busy, as usual, and kept going back and forth from the kitchen to her apartment that was adjacent to it. At one point Emily thought she heard a male voice in there, but it could have been the TV. Maybe Mary Lou had a show she liked to watch while she attended to her morning duties.

  So Emily sat in the kitchen drinking coffee, a wrapped present at her elbow, and waited for her dad to show up. She hadn’t celebrated a birthday with her dad in ten years, and she regretted that. He hadn’t celebrated her birthday with her very often, either, come to think of it.

  Because hers was February first, traveling to Jackson Hole had made no sense, especially because she’d never become interested in winter sports. She remembered two times that her dad had made it to Santa Barbara for her birthday — when she was six and when she turned twelve.

  Both occasions had been awkward because he didn’t fit in with a suburban lifestyle. He’d stayed in a motel and had come over for the party, which had involved a jumping castle when she was six and a gaggle of girls going to the movies when she was twelve. She’d ended up hoping he wouldn’t come for her birthday anymore.

  But what a shame that they couldn’t have found more of a middle ground. At least she was here today and could wish him a happy birthday first thing in the morning. And give him one of her presents, because she believed birthdays should involve presents all day long.

  He walked in, smiling and looking very dashing in his blue striped western shirt and worn jeans. He was holding his hat, because even though cowboys sometimes kept their hats on indoors, her dad was old school about that and always took his off.

  He’d aged well, she thought with pride. He was still lean, and his dark hair, though graying, was as thick as ever. The mustache he’d had ever since she could remember suited him perfectly.

  She jumped up and hurried over to give him a kiss on the cheek. His pine-scented shaving lotion was achingly familiar. “Happy birthday, Dad.”

  “Thanks, Em.” His smile remained, but there was a look in his blue eyes she couldn’t quite place. She wondered if he worried about growing older. Birthdays affected people differently. Some people loved marking the passage of years and others didn’t. Sad to say, she didn’t know into which category he fell.

  “Here’s your first present.” She grabbed her package off the table. She’d found wrapping paper with horses on it and was very proud of that. Although she could make fancy bows, she’d tied a simple green ribbon around the package because she didn’t want her dad to think it was too frilly and fussy.

  “Why, thank you.”

  “Here’s the man of the day!” Mary Lou bustled into the kitchen. “Can I pour the birthday boy some hot coffee?”

  “Half a cup,” he said. “I’ll sit down a minute and open my present. But then Emily and I have to get down to the corral. Oh, and we
’ll need a plastic bag, Mary Lou, if you have one handy.”

  Mary Lou poured a mug full of coffee, ignoring her dad’s suggestion of only half, and handed it to him. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” He took it without commenting on the extra portion and took a sip. “You make great coffee, Mary Lou.”

  “And you’ve never been satisfied with half a cup, so you might as well stop telling me that’s what you want. Now open your present. Let’s see what Emily brought you.”

  Emily ducked her head to hide her smile. Not many people got away with bossing her father around, but Mary Lou had been on the ranch about as long as he had and obviously wasn’t intimidated by any man, let alone her dad.

  “I believe I will.” Emmett sat down at the kitchen table that served as a gathering place for anyone wanting coffee and conversation during the day. After setting his mug and hat on the table, he carefully untied the green ribbon.

  To Emily’s surprise, she was nervous about whether he’d like her gift. Because she didn’t spend much time with her dad, she wasn’t sure what he might want. She’d also been feeling a little sentimental when she’d decided on this one.

  After untying the ribbon, Emmett wound it up and set it on the table before peeling off the tape. His care in unwrapping her gift brought a lump to her throat. She’d sent him presents over the years, but too often she’d treated it as an obligation to get out of the way. Now she realized he must have devoted this much attention to opening each one, and she wished she’d put more thought into her other gifts.

  Mary Lou blew out an impatient breath. “You are the slowest present opener in the whole world, Emmett Sterling.”

  He glanced up at her. “If someone takes the time to buy me a present and wrap it, I like to appreciate the effort.”

  “Then I’m going to tell everyone coming tonight to bring their presents in a paper sack. Otherwise we’ll be there ‘till dawn while you open them.”

  “What’s this about presents in paper sacks?” Watkins sauntered out of Mary Lou’s apartment. His hair and handlebar mustache were still slightly damp, as if he’d recently shaved and showered.

  Emmett’s eyebrows lifted as he gazed at Watkins. “Morning, Watkins.”

  “Same to you, Emmett. And happy birthday.”

  “Thanks.” He continued to stare at the ranch hand. “Sleep well?”

  “I surely did. And you?”

  Emily watched the two men, fascinated by what wasn’t being said. Obviously Watkins had spent the night with Mary Lou and that had been the male voice Emily had heard a few minutes ago. If she had to guess from her dad’s reaction, that wasn’t part of the normal routine.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Mary Lou stepped forward and handed Watkins a mug of coffee. “Stop dancing around the issue, both of you. Watkins and I spent the night together, Emmett. If he behaves himself, we may continue to do that now and then. I told Sarah and she’s fine with it.”

  Her dad took a sip of his coffee. “And I never said I wasn’t.”

  “No, but you should have seen the look on your face when Watkins walked out of my apartment.”

  “I was surprised, is all.”

  “You shouldn’t be. Watkins has been sweet on me for years.”

  “And she finally took pity on me,” Watkins said. “I promise you, Emmett, that it won’t interfere with my work.”

  “I wouldn’t expect it to.”

  Emily could hardly wait for a moment alone with Clay so she could tell him about this. She and Clay weren’t the only ones who’d enjoyed a rendezvous last night. They might not have to worry about Mary Lou interfering with their plans for tonight, either.

  “And that’s enough on that topic,” Mary Lou said. “Are you finally going to finish opening that present, or do you need someone to do it for you?”

  “I’ve got it.” Emmett folded back the wrapping paper and picked up a framed five-by-seven picture. Emily had found the snapshot when she was going through some old boxes. The original was faded and bent, but she’d taken it to a shop where they’d created a new and improved version.

  Fifteen years ago, she’d had one of the ranch hands take the picture with her camera when she’d spent a week at the ranch. She and her dad were both sitting on horses, and at twelve she’d insisted on wearing sandals, shorts, a halter top, and sunglasses. Definitely no cowgirl.

  Her dad looked like the quintessential cowboy in the picture, and even though she winced now to think of how stubborn she’d been about proper riding attire, she still loved this picture. She hoped he did, too.

  Mary Lou came over to take a look. “Oh, now that’s sweet. Don’t you think so, Watkins?”

  The barrel-chested cowboy walked over to check out the picture. “Very nice. I think I remember when that was taken.”

  Emily appreciated their comments, but the man she needed to hear from hadn’t said a word. Maybe she’d made a terrible mistake and he’d just shove it in a drawer. He might not care about an old picture like this, after all.

  “You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to, Dad,” she said.

  “Of course I’ll keep it.” His voice sounded rusty and he coughed. “Thank you, Emily. I thought I’d never see this again.”

  “I wondered if you still had a copy somewhere.”

  “I used to. Kept meaning to frame it and never did. Had it propped against a lamp beside my bed for the longest time, and then one morning I had it in my hand while I was drinking coffee and walking around the cabin, which wasn’t very smart of me. I tripped and doused it with coffee. Ruined it.”

  Emily sighed with relief. “I was afraid you didn’t like it.” Instead he’d loved it more than she had. “I made a new copy for myself, too.”

  “Good.” He blinked and cleared his throat. He still hadn’t looked at her.

  She understood. A man like her dad would be embarrassed to let anyone know that he could get misty-eyed and choked up over a simple picture. “I guess we need to get down to the corral, though.” Until her dad was thoroughly absorbed in the Calamity Sam project, Sarah and Dominique couldn’t begin ferrying supplies out to the picnic site.

  “Yes, we do.” He polished off his coffee in several long gulps. The man had to have a cast-iron throat. Then he folded the wrapping paper back around the picture and laid the ribbon on top before picking up everything along with his hat. “You can meet me down at the corral, Em. I’m going to run this home so nothing happens to it.”

  She hadn’t thought about what he’d do with the picture once he’d unwrapped it. “I could put it in my room for the day, if you want.”

  “Nope. This is special and I’d rather make sure it’s safe and sound in my house. Finish your coffee and get that plastic bag from Mary Lou before you come down. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  Watkins had ducked back into Mary Lou’s apartment and returned clutching his hat. “I’ll walk out with you, Emmett.” He gave Mary Lou a quick kiss. “Thanks, Lou-Lou.” Then he followed Emily’s dad out of the kitchen.

  After the two men left, Mary Lou let out a sigh. “I hope I’m not going to regret letting that cowboy back into my bed. I should have known he’d make a grand entrance to solidify his position.”

  Emily was gratified that Mary Lou would share such a personal statement with her. It made her feel more a part of ranch life. “Sounds like he really likes you, though.”

  “He does, but I’ve been sleeping solo for a lot of years. And I’ve warned him not to bring up marriage like he did last time.”

  “You don’t want to get married?”

  “No, I don’t. At my age, there’s no point to it. It’s not like we have to worry about which last name to give the kids.”

  “I see what you mean.”

  Mary Lou smiled at Emily. “That picture was a brainstorm on your part. Did you see how emotional he got over it?”

  “Yeah.” Emily smiled back. “That was nice. I think I need to be around for his birthday every year.” />
  “He pretends like he doesn’t want a fuss made over him, but I know he’d love that.”

  “He would.” Emily’s heart squeezed as she thought of all the birthdays her dad had celebrated without her. “As a matter of fact, so would I.”

  As Clay came out of the barn leading a well-scrubbed Patches, Emily bounded down the ranch house steps, a plastic bag in one hand. Dear God, she was gorgeous. Her blonde hair shimmered in the sun, making her look angelic. He knew she wasn’t, but he was struck speechless by the sight of her.

  Once again she was dressed in shorts and a scoop-necked T-shirt. She carried the hat she’d borrowed from Sarah in her other hand and put it on once she’d cleared the steps. He wondered if she’d find a way to get her jeans washed for the ride to the picnic site tonight. She wouldn’t want to make that ride in shorts.

  She spotted him and waved. Because she was coming in his direction, he waited for her. Nick was already in the shed with Cookies and Cream, so he couldn’t stay long, but he also couldn’t resist a chance to talk with Emily.

  He needed to alert her that the screen had been taken from behind the bushes, which meant someone had a pretty good idea what went on last night. Nothing was going according to plan this morning. He would have expected Emmett to be working with Calamity Sam by now, but something must have held up the program because the corral was still empty and Emmett was nowhere around.

  Emily hurried up to him. “Did you find your hat?”

  “No.” The missing hat would be expensive to replace, but that wasn’t even his biggest concern. Now that nobody had shown up with it, he hoped to hell it had been carried off by a raccoon.

  He’d just seen Watkins, and he didn’t have it, obviously. If some other cowboy had found it, then the guys could be planning to embarrass Clay. Cowboys loved to pull pranks, and unfortunately Clay could imagine someone announcing at the cookout that they’d found Clay’s hat under Emily’s window. Then things could get ugly.