Home on the Ranch: Colorado Cowboy

by Patricia Potter

  “Sure can,” Ethel said. “It’ll be tight but I can arrange it.”

  “I’ll send Mark to help.”

  “Okay to treat them to dessert?”

  “Definitely,” Susan said.

  She returned to the desk, where Mark was still talking to the couple. “We’re all set for dinner,” she told them. “The dining room will open in a few minutes. Just check with Mark after dinner about the room.”

  She looked at the clock. Now that the pageant was over, they would be deluged with diners.

  “Thank you so much,” Margaret Turner said. “We’ll be sure to tell everyone about the inn. I just love the name, Camel Trail Inn. I read in the program that camels really roamed this area. We want to come back and explore.”

  “We would love to have you,” Susan replied sincerely. “There’s a lot of history here. I hope the room works out.” She would bet anything that Mrs. Turner was the type to spread the word about Covenant Falls. Her interest—and her husband’s—was obvious.

  She gave them directions to the small inn library where they could wait until the dining room opened, then turned back to Mark. “I think I’ll take your suggestion and go home,” she said. “Poor Vagabond is probably starving.”

  “What about you?”

  She usually stayed late the last night of the pageant to hear the entertainment but the last few days had been frantic and she was exhausted. A glass of wine and a hot bath were critically needed and the inn was in good hands with Mark.

  She walked the half mile to her small bungalow. Vagabond, a stray cat that took up residence outside her house until Susan finally surrendered and admitted the cat inside, was probably wondering who was going to fill her bowl tonight. Because she had a tendency to overeat, Susan rationed each meal.

  She’d never been a cat person, but a dog wasn’t practical with her schedule and, well, the darn cat had adopted her, not the other way around.

  Vagabond greeted her with her usual indignant “Are you trying to starve me?” meow. Susan quickly filled her dish with cat food, then poured a glass of wine and investigated the contents of Ethel’s care package. It was one of her favorites, a salad packed with different greens, pieces of steak and blue cheese crumbles.

  After eating, she poured a second glass of wine for herself, found the book she’d been reading for what seemed like forever and slipped into a hot bubbly tub. Finding she was too tired to read, she put it down, sipped the wine and thought about the day.

  The inn had reached the point of breaking even a year ago and was inching up in the profit column. She was happy with her job and even happier for Josh and Nate, the two owners who had taken a huge risk in building the inn and hiring her to run it.

  She worried, though, about the no-show today. What if he did show up and they had to turn that couple away?

  All she knew about Ross Taylor was he was connected in some way to Josh and Jubal’s Horses for Heroes program. But he was obviously thoughtless. Rude. Unreliable.

  She drained the glass of wine.

  Chapter 2

  Ross roared into the Camel Trail Inn at nearly midnight on Saturday.

  The parking lot was filled. Completely filled. He groaned.

  He should have tried calling again, but he’d been too busy worrying about the darn dog.

  He was going to have to try to sneak Hobo inside. No self-respecting inn would accept him, even with Josh Manning’s approval. Who in the hell would have thought an inn in a tiny little town would be this busy.

  He parked the Harley near the entrance door in the “check in only” space.

  The inn looked a lot more inviting than he thought it would. Dammit. He would have preferred the infamous Bates Motel at the moment. He realized he looked like trouble walking in. He was wearing a sweaty T-shirt, worn jeans and a well-weathered leather jacket. He had two days’ bristle on his face and was accompanied by a half-starved mongrel. It didn’t help that he was a big man. His size often intimidated people. And whoever was at the desk probably heard the approach of the Harley.

  Josh Manning, his sergeant and a close friend for several years in the Middle East, would probably disown him although he was here at Josh’s request.

  He decided to leave the dog in the basket. He walked through the quiet lobby to a desk manned by a slender young man who looked as if he was still in his teens. The desk clerk looked up from a book as Ross approached.

  Mark—identified from the pin on his shirt—put the book to the side and despite Ross’s appearance said politely, “Can I help you, sir?”

  Ross instantly admired his composure. “Sorry to disturb you,” he said, looking at the book titled Hotel Economics. “Good read?” he asked.

  The kid smiled. “Can’t put it down,” he replied with a grin, “for more reasons than one. I have a test coming up.”

  Ross grinned at the reply. “I’m Ross Taylor. I think I have a reservation. Sorry to be so late but there were unexpected delays and either there was no cell service or your phone was busy.”

  A concerned look replaced the smile. “I’m sorry, sir, but when we didn’t hear from you yesterday or today we gave the room to an elderly couple who didn’t want to drive a long way tonight.”

  Perfect! It suited the rest of the day. Everything that could go wrong, had. “Is there any place else? I’ve been on the road for fifteen hours.”

  “I’ll check,” Mark said. “You can wait in the library just to the left. The seats are more comfortable. Can I get you something to drink or eat while you wait?”

  Ross thought of the dog on the back of his bike. He probably shouldn’t mention him at the moment. “A sandwich would be good.”

  The kid nodded and reached for the phone as Ross walked around the lobby. He couldn’t really be angry. It was his fault. He should have tried harder to contact the inn, but damned if he knew what to do now.

  He studied the interior of the inn. It had a lodge look to it. Beams overhead and paneled walls. Western paintings decorated the interior and a huge fireplace dominated one wall. There was a large coffee urn on a counter along another wall.

  If the inn couldn’t find something for him, he could call Josh Manning, but dammit, he hated to do that. He would never hear the end of it if he had to call for help in the middle of the night. Not to mention the pitiful shape of his temporary dependent.

  The idea had been to arrive yesterday and relax today before meeting with Josh on Sunday. So much for relaxing. But that was before the client needed reassurance and before he found Hobo. He’d had to stop repeatedly to check on the little guy.

  Ross tried to relax. He didn’t care if a room wasn’t ready or if something was broken, unless it was the shower.

  * * *

  After a long relaxing bath, Susan emerged from the tub, poured another glass of wine, and she and Vagabond settled down in bed. After tomorrow’s checkout, the inn would be nearly empty. It was both a relief and a worry.

  The lull would allow her to help at Jubal’s ranch as a volunteer in the Horses for Heroes program. Although the program was really Jubal’s baby, Josh was 100 percent behind it, and the entire town was involved in one way or another. She was a minor cog, more of a confidence builder than an instructor.

  Which brought her back to the missing guest. All she knew of Ross Taylor was he was an army buddy of Josh’s and a physical therapist who would be involved in the vet program.

  She decided not to think about him tonight. She picked up the book but the words seemed to blend together and her brain wouldn’t stop working.

  She put the book aside and turned out the light only to be jerked fully awake by her cell phone.

  “Ah...we have a small problem.” Mark’s voice was tentative.

  Bad vibes ran through her. Mark rarely let anything bother him and was excellent at solving problems on his own.

 
“What kind of problem?”

  “The guy who was supposed to be here yesterday just showed up.”

  Susan immediately came to full alert.

  “Any more good news?”

  “He doesn’t look happy that we don’t have a room, and he’s big. Really big.” There was a note of wariness in his voice.

  She looked at the clock. It was nearly twelve. This was the last thing she needed tonight, but he was her boss’s guest. Maybe Josh could take care of him—but it was late, and she knew for a fact that his house was already overflowing with both human and animal inhabitants. She didn’t relish calling him at midnight and admitting she’d given away a room booked for an old friend of his.

  It was her problem. She was the one who had decided to give away the room tonight. She ran through alternatives in her mind. There weren’t any. The two bed-and-breakfast homes in Covenant Falls were full, as were motels within fifty miles.

  Maybe he could stay at her house. She had the space and had used it once before when the inn was overbooked. But that was for a couple. Still, this Ross Taylor was a personal friend of Josh’s. It wouldn’t be different than a bed-and-breakfast for one night.

  She gritted her teeth. She didn’t much like the idea of a male in the cottage, especially a strange one. But she had three bedrooms and two baths and, knowing this week was going to be hectic, she’d cleaned thoroughly a week ago. She would decide after meeting him. She took a deep breath.

  Mark was still on the phone. Waiting.

  “I’ll come over there,” she said. “Give him a drink or food, or both. You can get something from the kitchen. I won’t be more than fifteen minutes.”

  “Will do,” Mark said. He sounded relieved.

  Susan reluctantly left the bed, dressed quickly in jeans and a sweatshirt. She ran a comb through her hair and tied it back in a ponytail, then applied a dab of lipstick.

  Vagabond jumped down from the bed, meowing displeasure at her sleep being interrupted.

  Susan was out the door and on the road eleven minutes after the call. The inn was only half a mile away and she arrived two minutes later.

  The parking lot was full and she parked her Jeep in the arrival area at the entrance, joining a dusty gigantic motorcycle. Whimpering sounds were coming from a small basket on the back.

  Neither the motorcycle nor the noises were good signs.

  She went inside. The lobby was empty except for Mark, who was looking anxiously toward the door.

  “He’s in the library,” he said. “I raided the kitchen, gave him a beer, three sandwiches and two of tomorrow morning’s cinnamon rolls.”

  “Three sandwiches?”

  “He’s rather...hungry.”

  “How did he react to not having a room?”

  “Well, he didn’t rant,” Mark said. “He said it fitted in with the rest of the day. I don’t think he meant it in a favorable way.”

  “I heard a dog whimpering on a motorcycle on my way in,” she said.

  “He didn’t say anything about a dog.”

  “The bike couldn’t be good for it,” she said, her opinion of the newcomer plummeting every moment. Who would put a dog in a tiny space on the back of a motorcycle? If that motorcycle was Ross Taylor’s, the dog did complicate things, especially if it was sick. She knew that Stephanie, their vet, probably wouldn’t return until late tomorrow. And the fact that her would-be guest kept an animal in a small container on a noisy bike didn’t improve her opinion of him. She didn’t care for motorcycles or those who rode them. They all had a death wish.

  “What are you going to do?” Mark asked.

  “I haven’t decided.” She turned around and walked to the library. A large man sat facing the door. Only half of one of the three sandwiches remained. His beer was nearly gone, as well. No cinnamon rolls remained. He’d obviously been hungry.

  “Mr. Taylor?”

  He started to get up.

  “No,” she said. “Don’t get up. Finish,” she ordered.

  “Yes ma’am,” he said in a slightly amused voice, settling back in the seat while he finished the sandwich in two bites. Then he sat back. Waiting.

  “I’m Susan Hall,” she explained. “I manage the inn. I’m sorry your room isn’t available, and I’m here to fix the problem.” She had no idea how she was going to do that, especially now she was staring at him. Dammit, she was in trouble.

  He looked like he’d just walked off a Western movie lot after a long day of fighting bad guys. He was ruggedly handsome with a tanned face and several days of beard. His face was arresting, strong. His eyes were steel gray and seemed to penetrate through her sudden confusion. His hair was sandy blond, not curly exactly but thick and tousled, probably by the motorcycle helmet that was on the table. His forearms were heavily muscled and his hands looked strong and capable.

  He was tall. Probably six foot three or more. Not thick. She’d noticed when he started to stand that there was not an ounce of fat on him. You could even call him lean but it was all solid muscle. He would dwarf her five foot nine and one hundred and thirty pounds. Blood stained the T-shirt he wore. A well-worn leather jacket was spread askew in another chair as if just tossed there.

  He was attractive in a raw masculine way. She usually didn’t respond to power and self-assurance, and he radiated it.

  She mentally winced under his gaze. She definitely did not look her best. She had pulled her hair back in one long messy ponytail rather than the neat knot or French braid she usually wore during business hours. Her clothes were certainly not business-like. Outside of a bare dash of lipstick, she’d forgone makeup in her haste.

  But now she had no idea what to do as he speared her with an expectant gaze, waiting for her to offer a solution.

  My boss’s friend.

  He raised an eyebrow as if to ask, without words, why he didn’t have a room and what in the devil was she going to do about it.

  Then he put it in words. “The young man at the desk said there may be a problem with the room. I don’t care what’s wrong with it. I just need a bed and especially a shower.”

  She certainly had to agree with the latter statement. There was only one possibility, and she fought with herself before offering it. He may not be dangerous in a physical way, but she knew immediately he could be in other ways.

  He did not look like any physical therapist she’d known. He looked fierce, impatient and expectant.

  She studied him. He had several days of beard but it was more sexy than off-putting. Above all, there was something magnetic about him.

  Most women’s dream. My nightmare. He was, in fact, the kind of man who sent her running in the opposite direction. The kind that roared into town and left broken hearts in its wake.

  Like her father.

  Susan tried to explain. “I’m afraid we don’t have anything, not even a closet. This is one of the few weekends we’re sold out,” she explained. “When you didn’t check in or call by ten, we gave the room to an elderly couple who really needed it.” She waited for an explosion.

  “I tried to call,” he explained in a cool voice, “but either the line was busy or I was in a no-cell-service area. I would have been more persistent had I known there was a problem.”

  Susan winced. She should have thought about that possibility. “I apologize,” she said. “This is our busiest weekend of the year. I didn’t realize the phones were clogged. I should have.”

  She changed the subject, hoping it would give her time to think. “I heard little whimpering noises coming from a motorcycle as I came in.” It was a question.

  “A dog,” he said. “The little guy was sleeping when I came in. I found him injured on the side of the road. Someone obviously shot him and left him in the middle of nowhere.” The anger in his voice grew as he spoke. “He was half-starved but moved when he heard the bike. Trying to
scoot away on an injured leg. I would like to do some bodily damage to who did that to him.” His voice deepened in anger. I tried to find a veterinarian. None were open. I’m hoping you have one here.”

  “We do. A very good one. I would call her now but she’s on a search and rescue mission with her dogs. Hopefully, she’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Ross nodded. “He’s had a hard day. From his condition, it looks like he’s had a lot of them. Maybe always.”

  Her opinion of her guest spiraled upward. “So that’s why you were running late.”

  “That and a client who was in more pain after a workout than he expected and thought I’d damaged him permanently.”

  “Bad week, huh?”

  He shrugged and asked abruptly, “Do you have anything at all?”

  Guilt weighed on her. It was even heavier now than when she gave away his room. Although she’d truly wanted to help the older couple, she’d had no authority to make that decision. She should have considered the reasons he might be late instead of assuming he was a no-show.

  Although he was sprawled across a chair, he was compelling. His eyes drilled into her. He hadn’t smiled, but neither had there been anger. More like frustration, but even that was laid-back.

  The conversation swayed some of her reservations. Despite his appearance, he seemed to be reasonable. More than reasonable, really, considering the circumstances. “I have, ah...a...possible solution,” she started awkwardly, which was totally unlike her.

  He raised an eyebrow and his mouth widened into a slow smile that took her breath away. “I’m listening,” he said.

  “I could wake up Josh Manning,” she said, “but he has a full house. Five dogs, a cat, a couple of horses, a son and a pregnant wife.”

  The eyebrow arched a little higher. “In that order?”

  She had to smile at that. “Not quite.”

  “Are we talking about the same Josh Manning?” he said. “He was pretty much a loner when I knew him.”

  “In the army, you mean?”

  “What makes you think that?”