One Wild Cowboy

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  He motioned for Andrew to follow him. “How is Emily?”

  Andrew plucked the leather work gloves from his back pocket and hurried to catch up. “She’s real busy.”

  Dylan had tried to stay focused on other things, too. For once, concentrating on the needs of the horses in his care did nothing to stanch the overwhelming emotions welling up inside him. He stalked into the barn and picked up a fresh bale of hay, handed another off to Andrew. “I saw a Closed sign on the café when I drove into town today.”

  “She’s taking the whole week off.”

  Another sign that things weren’t right with her, either, although in her case her actions could all be financially motivated. “How come?” Dylan stopped to get a pair of clippers to cut the twine.

  They both carried the hay into the stable and set it down in the center aisleway. “Well, today, anyway, she’s busy meeting with the three guys her brothers brought in to talk to her. And then about five others are coming in, too.”

  Dylan felt a surge of possessiveness that was no longer justifiable. Telling himself his interest was only cursory, that if she were selling shares in her business or looking for outside investors he might be interested, too, Dylan asked casually, “All at the same time?”

  Andrew helped break the two bales into equal flakes. “No. One after the other. Emily’s real serious about it. She says the meetings all have to be private.”

  Okay, that could mean anything….

  Andrew and Dylan stuffed the hay nets with feed. “Emily says she has to concentrate on her future now more than ever—and she wants to get things taken care of as soon as possible. That’s all I know.”

  Dylan weighed the nets on a spring balance, to ensure the proper level of feed for each horse. Then he and Andrew brought them to the individual stalls and secured them at eye level on the wall.

  Andrew grabbed a broom to clean up any leftover bits of hay that had fallen to the floor. Dylan studied the lingering concern on the boy’s face.

  “Is that the only reason you came out here?” Dylan asked as they walked out of the stable. “To tell me that?”

  Andrew drifted toward the pasture fence. He looked toward the far corner, where Ginger, Salt and Pepper congregated in a corner, basking in the late-afternoon sun and the gentle spring breeze.

  Andrew hooked his arms over the fence rail. He kept his gaze trained forward. “Actually, I wanted to ask you about the stuff Xavier Shillingsworth said about you being from a not-so-nice family.”

  Dylan knew how difficult it was for the fifteen-year-old to let anyone know what was really on his mind. “I imagine a lot of people want to ask me about that,” he replied with as much candor as he could muster.

  Andrew gulped and turned to Dylan. “Did it make you feel bad having him say all those things?” He squinted and turned his gaze to the horizon again. His hands gripped the rail in front of him. “’Cause it always makes me feel bad when people talk about my dad being arrested and being sent to jail.”

  Dylan started to say the expected—that it didn’t matter what others thought and therefore he refused to let it bother him. But he knew that wasn’t true.

  “It hurts,” he said finally, deciding to go outside his comfort zone and give the troubled teen the uncensored honesty he deserved. “It makes me feel I’m being blamed for something outside my control.”

  Andrew shifted again and braced his body against the rail. “Does it make you mad?”

  “It used to—now I just find it kind of sad and discouraging. And, of course, unfair.”

  Andrew clenched his jaw. “Some parents think because my dad did bad things, and I have his blood, that I’ll do bad things. So they don’t want me being friends with their kids or asking their daughters out on dates.”

  Dylan hadn’t known that was happening. He was pretty sure Simone and Emily hadn’t, either.

  Andrew hastened to add, “Most of the kids are okay—they’d like to hang out with me but they’re just not allowed to. Only the kids who have parents who don’t care what their kids do—”

  “Kids who are already in trouble of some sort,” Dylan interjected, guessing the rest.

  Andrew nodded. “Those kids are always allowed to go places with me. No problem.”

  Which explained, Dylan thought, Andrew’s entry into a bad crowd shortly after moving to Laramie. It wasn’t because he had wanted to be part of that group; he hadn’t felt he had any other options. “Did you ever tell your mom this?”

  Andrew hung his head. “I didn’t see the point. She feels bad enough about the stuff my dad did, and the trouble it caused for us back in Houston. We had to pack up and start over someplace else. I didn’t want to make it worse for her. But at the same time,” Andrew continued in a rusty-sounding voice, “it can get really lonely, when you don’t have any other kids to go places with who aren’t going to get you in trouble again.”

  “Yes,” Dylan said, knowing from his own experiences that was the case. “It can. But it doesn’t have to stay that way, Andrew. Now that we know what the situation is, I can vouch for you with other parents.” He put a reassuring hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “So if you need a reference, you have them call me. I’ll assure the other parents that you are a good influence for their kids.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “I gave you a community-service job on the ranch, didn’t I? I’m teaching you how to care for horses. Of course I’ll do that for you.”

  Andrew grinned his relief. “I didn’t think anyone would understand. But then, I guess you know all about this kind of stuff. Because your background isn’t considered great, either. Since you were disowned at birth and several times since.” Dylan winced. Gee, when you put it like that…

  Andrew’s brows drew together. “Is that why you and Emily broke up?” he blurted out, perplexed. “Because she found out that you don’t have the kind of family she does and now she doesn’t want to go out with you anymore? Are you being discriminated against, too?”

  Dylan held up a staying hand. “Emily’s not like that.”

  She was the kind of woman who made him believe in happily-ever-after, who made him want the fairy tale for himself.

  Andrew frowned, still not getting it. “Then why did you leave the party like that last night, without saying goodbye to anyone?” he demanded.

  Easy, Dylan thought. Because she’s a wonderful woman who deserves to see all her dreams come true. And those dreams included being with a man who understood how to be part of a big, happy family, a man who knew instinctively what to do and say and belong. Instead of someone who was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Fighting the turbulent emotions, Dylan cleared his throat. He looked at Andrew, man to man. “I didn’t come back to the ranch house last night as I figured Emily had been embarrassed enough. I couldn’t see doing it to her over and over again in the future. Because all of that will come up.”

  “My background will come up, too. But you’re willing to be my friend and vouch for me.”

  “That’s different,” Dylan retorted.

  “How?” the teen persisted.

  “It’s complicated,” he said finally.

  Andrew scoffed. “When adults say that it usually means they’re in love or something.”

  “Or something being the operative words in this case,” Dylan said.

  Had he and Emily not promised to keep it casual, to never change, to part amicably before things got convoluted and messy?

  “Yeah, well,” Andrew grumbled, as the trio of mustangs saw them and started their way, “as long as we’re talking straight to each other… I gotta say, I think you humiliated Emily more by leaving the party that way, without even saying good night to anybody or anything.”

  Guilt wound its way into his heart. And stayed. He’d figured he had been helping, by exiting quietly and unobtrusively, instead of staying and being the elephant in the room. “Did she say that?” he demanded, his mouth dry.

  O
r was this Andrew misinterpreting?

  Andrew looked at Dylan as if he was an idiot. “Emily didn’t have to complain about it. My mom and I could both see she was really hurt.” Andrew stopped and shook his head. “You really ought to go to her and apologize. Try and do something to make it right.”

  EMILY HAD just shut off the café coffeemaker and was getting ready to clean up, when her mother walked in. Emily knew she was concerned and that she’d show up eventually to talk to her.

  “Full calendar today, hmm?” Greta started sympathetically. She opened up the bag she’d brought with her. Inside were two pints of premium ice cream—Godiva chocolate for Emily, coconut-pecan for her mother.

  Emily accepted the gift with a thank you and found two spoons. “I decided to finally start tackling the café’s problems head-on. I actually got a lot of offers of help, some very interesting.”

  As comfortable in a commercial kitchen as she was in her own home, Greta pulled up a stool to the central worktable. “Are there any you are going to accept?”

  Emily brought two glasses of ice water over to the table. “Yes. I’ve already set up time to meet with five of them again.”

  Greta smiled. “That’s great.”

  Emily savored her first bite of dark-chocolate ice cream. “But that’s not why you came over to talk to me.”

  “Your father and I are both concerned about Dylan.”

  Pushing aside the memory of the sexy rancher, and all he had once meant to her, Emily savored another bite. Like it or not, she had to move on in this regard, too. “I can’t help you.”

  Greta studied her carefully. “You’re no longer friends?”

  No longer friends with temporary benefits, that was for sure, Emily thought miserably, wondering how something that had felt so right could go so wrong so fast.

  “Our reasons for seeing each other are over.” Knowing she had to unburden herself to someone, she said, “I know we put on a good show from time to time, Mom, but it was all just pretend.”

  A twinkle appeared in Greta’s eyes. “Really.”

  Now was not the time for her mother to get overly romantic in her outlook. “Really,” she reiterated.

  Greta sipped her ice water. “What about the feelings in your heart? Are those pretend, too?”

  Emily flushed. “It doesn’t matter. Dylan’s right…he’s never going to be the guy I need.”

  I need someone who wants me, for now, for always. Someone who is willing to negotiate and adapt, grow old with me…

  “Because he’s not ethical.”

  Where had her mother gotten that idea? “He’s ethical!”

  Greta’s elegant eyebrows furrowed. “Not strong willed enough to take you on, then?”

  Emily choked in exasperation. “Have you met the man?”

  Greta savored another bite. “I guess, then, he’s lacking a tender side.”

  This, Emily thought, was beginning to get annoying. “Have you forgotten he’s a horse whisperer? Honestly, Mom, Dylan is the most gentle, intuitive man I have ever met in my entire life.” He knew how to kiss her and touch her and hold her. When to talk, and when to just let her be…

  Greta wrinkled her nose, thinking. “Then it’s his background.”

  There was no doubt about it—most of his family life had been heartbreakingly sad. “He can’t get over the cruelness of the rejection. And to have it happen again, last night, through Xavier, in front of everyone in our family.” It had been a nightmare, and not for just him.

  “It is a lot to have to accept,” Greta remarked quietly. “Especially when he is so deserving.”

  Emily set down her spoon. “You know what the worst part of it was?” Her mom shook her head, listening. “The fact that I couldn’t help him and be the kind of life partner he needed when it actually happened. I wanted to help him. I wanted to do or say something to make it all better for him, but in that moment, I didn’t have a clue.”

  “You stood up for him. You made the first move to send Xavier on his way.”

  “That was easy, Mom. I’m a McCabe—I know how to stand up for family. But I didn’t know how to handle the rest of it or what to say to him that would have made it all okay. Instead, when put to the test, I faltered, and he…left.”

  “That doesn’t mean the two of you have to break off your whatever it is you’ve been having.”

  What had they been having? An affair? Or something a heck of a lot more?

  “Unless you’re angry with him.”

  “I’m disappointed,” Emily admitted miserably.

  “Why?”

  “Because I kind of feel he lumped me in with everyone else who has let him down. He didn’t give me a chance to grow and learn and do better. And be what he needs. I’m not like that. Instead, it was like, ‘well…obviously this isn’t going to work.’” Angry tears sprang to her eyes. “Like he expected that at any minute I would turn my back on him, because of his horribly callous relatives…so he called up this agreement we had made to end it at the first sign of trouble and dumped me first!”

  Greta struggled to follow the logic. “So, if you had dumped him first it would have been okay?”

  “No! The point is, I wouldn’t have dumped him at all!”

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

  Emily fell abruptly silent.

  She struggled to explain how something that had started out so simply—as a reckless and ill-thought-out ruse to avoid some matchmaking—had evolved into something so passionate and meaningful—and ultimately devastating, as well. “We had an agreement—” Emily struggled not to cry “—that we wouldn’t try to change each other. The way I always tried to change the guys I dated. Dylan didn’t want to be another fixer-upper for me.

  “But did that also mean we shouldn’t try on our own to change for the better?” She wondered fervently. “Because I thought that’s what people in love did! I thought just being together made them better people. And that implies change, doesn’t it?”

  “Usually, unless the two people involved are absolutely perfect individuals to begin with,” her mother replied. “And personally, I can’t think of a single instance where that has happened.”

  “So he is being unreasonable!” Emily crowed, more hurt and angry than ever.

  Greta released a gusty breath. “Look, Emily, I know you and your brothers are all grown. And I really do try and stay out of your love lives as much as possible.”

  Emily couldn’t help it—she laughed out loud. “Really?” she echoed, reacting to the audacity. “Because, several weeks ago I heard you were trying to set me up with some mystery guy that you thought would be just perfect for me.”

  Greta looked chagrined they were suddenly back to that. “Your brothers told you,” she murmured, actually blushing.

  Emily threw up her hands in exasperation. “They’re my sibs! Of course they warned me!” She aimed a censuring finger her mother’s way. “The only one who didn’t tell me about The Guy Who Might Be The One For Me was you. You backed off before ever uttering his name!”

  Greta replaced the top on her ice cream. “There was a reason for that,” she said, rising to her feet.

  “And it was?” Emily stood, too.

  The self-conscious pink in her mother’s cheeks deepened. She cleared her throat as if making a grand announcement. “You were already kissing him at the time.” Greta paused to let the weight of her words sink in. “Frankly, your father and I concluded we didn’t need to do anything else to get you to give the guy a second look.”

  Emily’s mouth dropped open. “You really wanted me to be with Dylan?”

  Her mother was firm. “We really did.”

  Wow. And Wow again. “And now?” Emily ventured at last.

  Greta grabbed her purse. “Honey, that’s up to you. We’ll back you in whatever you decide.” She resacked her halffinished pint and headed for the door.

  A still-reeling Emily followed close behind, aware for the first time in hours her hear
t held a smidgen of hope. “But…”

  Her mother turned before going out the door. “Nope. No more advice,” she reiterated firmly, looking Emily straight in the eye. The air reverberated with maternal and familial love. “Because the wisdom you need—” Greta took Emily’s hand and placed it over her daughter’s heart “—is already right in here.”

  EMILY TOOK her mother’s advice and spent the next week searching her soul for the answers. Her chance to put her feelings to the test came a few days after that, when she met Dylan at a private mustang preserve 130 miles from the Last Chance Ranch.

  By the time she arrived, ready to witness the wild horses’ first big test, he was already there, unloading the three mustangs and his own gelding from the four-horse trailer. The youngest two were outfitted with reins and lead lines; the older two horses were saddled up.

  Emily got out of the Circle M pickup truck she had borrowed from her father and walked over to join the group. In the distance, they could see the resident herd of mustangs, grazing sedately in the 100-acre preserve.

  But it was the man next to her that held her heart captive.

  It had only been a week and a half, yet as Emily looked into those familiar golden-brown eyes, it felt so much longer. Too long.

  She swallowed, trying not to notice how handsome he looked, with his hat tugged low over his brow, a new haircut and a fresh shave. Or how good he smelled, like sandalwood and leather and soap.

  “Tell me again how this is going to work,” Emily said.

  His eyes were alight with kindness and another emotion she couldn’t identify. “We’re going to lead the horses a little closer, and then dismount and let the mustangs go.” He flexed his broad shoulders lazily. “See what they do, given the choice.”

  “Well, of course they’re going to race off to be with the other mustangs,” Emily said in frustration. Horses were herd animals, after all. Unlike humans, they always chose to be with their kind over being alone.

  He gave her a brief, officious look. “I reckon that’s so.”

  Emily’s anxiety rose. “It doesn’t bother you?”