Last Chance Cowboy

by Leigh Riker

  Shadow could feel the blood drain from her head toward her feet, as it had that other day. “Jared was defending my honor, I told Doc. I explained that he and Derek and Calvin Stern had gone to your ranch to teach you a lesson. And then...and then Doc told me he saw Jared. After. He saw his wounds. But even so, that we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

  Shadow was barely holding back tears. Though she’d been grateful, earlier, for Grey’s silence, grateful that he was letting her tell the story on her terms, part of her wished he would react. Show some emotion. She wiped her eyes.

  “I wanted to believe him,” she continued. “Wanted to believe you could be innocent and that we could be together again, get married and keep...our baby. I asked Doc if he though Derek and Calvin were lying about what happened, and he just told me to keep an open mind. And to talk to you—make a decision together.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Grey pressed.

  At first she didn’t answer. She’d gone to Doc as a last resort, but she trusted his advice. So why hadn’t she been able or willing to follow it? Shadow remembered hearing Ida, still on the phone in the outer room.

  Doc’s wife was the nosiest woman Shadow knew and her mother called Ida the town’s best gossip. Suddenly, Shadow had been overcome with worry that she would walk in at any moment, that if Ida learned the truth, she’d broadcast it for sure, only adding to the scandal of Jared’s death. That was when the enormity of the situation had hit her.

  “I don’t know,” she told Grey, finally. “I was so overwhelmed. Doc took me in for the night and said we could discuss the...options in the morning. And then once everything was decided—” He’d told Shadow he would handle Ida.

  Before Shadow realized how Grey might interpret that, she watched another emotion cross his face. He snatched the black Stetson from his knee, clamped it on his head then stood abruptly. “What did you do, Shadow?” He didn’t wait for her answer.

  “Grey—”

  “No,” he said, his hand already on the doorknob. He looked confused, conflicted. Overwhelmed. He had every right to be. “I need to think about this.” He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  Shadow sank back in her chair, filled with regret. For ten years, only three other people had known about Ava—four, if she counted her deceased father. Her mother, her sister Jenna and Doc. Now Grey also knew her secret.

  And she hadn’t just shocked him. She’d hurt him more deeply than she’d ever imagined.

  * * *

  BACK AT WILSON CATTLE, Grey shook his head. Cody had failed to properly mend the broken fence yesterday—call him Mr. Reliable—and Grey propped both hands on his hips to study the gap that was still there, the few strands of barbed wire hanging where Cody had hastily twisted them together as a temporary fix. Lazy, he thought, and it hadn’t worked. Grey had spent half the afternoon rounding up strays. Standing beside Logan Hunter, his friend and neighbor, he studied both sides of the property line.

  “This fence was deliberately cut,” Grey said, but he was having a hard time keeping his mind on that fact or even that Cody had let him down. He kept hearing Shadow’s words. He’d had a kid, a child he’d never known about until now. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around that. Couldn’t believe she’d gone to Doc instead of him. Whatever decision she’d made, their baby was his business, not Doc’s.

  Logan ran a hand over the nape of his neck. “Deliberate, all right. Same as mine was. Not the usual teardown by some cow determined to get free.”

  “You missing any cattle? I mean, bison?”

  Years ago Logan’s grandfather Sam had switched from raising beef, although Grey still wondered why. The bison could be mean critters, more aggressive than the Angus breeding bulls Grey ran, any day. If he needed proof, all he had to do was look at Logan’s grandfather, who’d been tossed weeks ago by one of his bison and badly broken his leg. His cast was off but he still had a limp.

  “I’ll have to ask Willy or Tobias,” Logan said, referring to two of his cowboys. His already deep-blue eyes had darkened. “I’ve been too busy with the wedding plans to count bison cows or ride fence. Darned if I don’t miss that.”

  Grey wanted to smile but couldn’t. The constant chore was nobody’s favorite, and to help his injured grandfather, Logan, who was by profession a test pilot, had become a temporary cowboy again—until he and Blossom fell in love and the ranch gained new appeal for him. Which only made Grey think of Shadow. “You don’t look unhappy. The break from flying jets must agree with you.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll have to make some real decisions soon. I’ve got applications in with other aircraft manufacturers in Wichita, but there’s not a lot of demand right now.”

  With his gloved hands, Grey retwisted some wires together, enough to keep his cows in until he could fix the fence himself.

  “You’d quit?” he asked. “I thought you were just taking a short leave.”

  “We’ll see. The ranch will always be home to Blossom and me, at least in part, depending on what I decide to do about flying for a living. Sam still needs help here.”

  Grey glanced at him. He and Logan had grown up together, although Logan was two years older and Grey had always seen him as an older brother—the way he looked after Cody now. “It’d be great if you could stay, Logan.” He shook his head again. “I know I’ll never leave this place.” Not willingly, anyway. His stomach twisted at the thought of the loan Barney had denied him.

  Logan frowned. “Why would you leave? Running Wilson Cattle is all you ever wanted to do, Grey. This ranch has been in your family even longer than the Circle H has been in mine.”

  His gut tightened. Grey’s great-great-something-grandfather had bought this acreage right after the Civil War when land was cheap. As Logan knew, too, the old man was buried in the family plot just over the hill with the generations that had come after him. Grey had always wanted children who would inherit Wilson Cattle from him, but now... He had to steady his voice before he spoke.

  “Yep. Wilson Cattle is in my blood, in my bones.”

  Logan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Talk about old times. Remember when you and I—and my brother—scared ourselves crazy every Halloween in the graveyard? And rode all over both ranches, yelling like banshees, playing we were grown-up cowboys like your dad and Sam? Spooking the cattle? Pretending we were on some everlasting roundup?”

  “Until we had to surrender our horses. Grounded,” Grey said. “We gave my dad and your grandfather more gray hairs...” Clearing his throat, he squinted into the far distance, listening for the reassuring sounds from the Black Angus herd that would tell him everything was fine. He knew each shuffle of hooves, each calf’s bleat or cow’s bellow, though unlike Sam Hunter he didn’t name the animals.

  “Yeah,” Logan said, “but I regret that I spent more time off the Circle H than on for too many years. Now, because of Blossom, that’s finally changed. At least for now.”

  Grey envied them. Shadow’s earlier words spun through his brain again like a McCormick reaper in a ripe hayfield. Years ago, he’d thought they were headed for the altar, like Logan and Blossom were now—until their last fight. Then Jared had died and Grey got blamed for it, at least in the court of public opinion. And sometimes within himself. All of which had prevented any reconciliation between him and Shadow. Logan had obviously picked up on his mood. Which of Doc’s options had she taken? He hadn’t let Shadow tell him what they were, or what she’d done.

  “What’s wrong, Grey? Except for this barbed wire.”

  “Plenty,” he admitted, “but I’ll get through it.”

  Logan dragged a hand through his dark hair. “Whatever you say stops here.”

  “I know, but...”

  “If there’s anything I can do—”

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

  Logan punched his upper ar
m. “Someday that pride of yours is going to get you in real trouble.”

  Grey rubbed his biceps, as if Logan had actually hurt him. “I imagine it will.” It already had, in town with Shadow today. He’d left her office shocked and mad at her for keeping their child from him all these years, afraid he’d say things he’d regret later.

  He and Logan stood for a moment in silent companionship, two guys who were never comfortable expressing their deepest feelings. He guessed many men weren’t, but with cowboys that went double. His pride definitely wouldn’t let him tell his best friend about the bombshell Shadow had dropped on him. Not yet. He needed time to think, to decide how to react.

  Logan scratched at a bug bite on his forearm. “The first truly warm weather—after all the rain—and the mosquitoes are already out.”

  “Whenever the wind’s not blowing.” The prairie breeze could be fierce, especially in spring, and in June it was still hanging on. When Grey’s ancestors had settled here, the wind’s relentless nature had driven some people mad. He was glad there was no wind today.

  He surveyed his land once more. Wilson Cattle sat closer to the main road than Logan’s adjoining Circle H did, and on what passed in the state for higher ground. It didn’t have the Hunters’ long driveway and was also near the crossroads—easy picking for modern-day mischief-makers? Someone with a pair of wire cutters might think opening a hole here and there was great fun. With proms and graduation coming up, this was high season for teenage pranksters.

  He tipped his hat back, then resettled it, scanning the ranch to the horizon. Whatever happened next, he was not going to lose Wilson Cattle—which had become a real possibility.

  What to do about Shadow was another matter.

  * * *

  BLOSSOM KENNEDY WAS the kind of person with whom Shadow had felt instantly comfortable as soon as they met. This was a first for her. She didn’t let many people into her inner circle—she’d learned as a kid not to let others get close enough to see how she’d lived then—but she and Blossom had hit it off right away.

  Shadow had no sooner watched Grey walk out of her office than Blossom had called her cell phone. Still shaking, Shadow had let the call go to voice mail. Once she’d finally listened to the message, she’d known what to do, and she had driven out to the Circle H. She hated having to fib to Blossom, but at least she would do so to her face.

  “About the wedding,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t be your maid of honor.” That role, and the responsibility it carried, seemed even more important to Shadow than if Blossom had simply asked her to be one of several bridesmaids.

  “Of course you will.” Sitting on the porch steps of the house she shared with Logan, Blossom pushed a stray russet curl off her forehead.

  “Thanks for asking me, but...” And here came the thin lie she didn’t want to tell. “I’m so busy—swamped—with the agency right now.” Which wasn’t exactly untrue. “I’m overbooked.” There was no way, after she’d told Grey about their child, that she could stand up with him at a wedding. That he could want her to be there. As best man, he’d be close to her all day and yet they’d be so far apart. “I may have to hire more help.” Even to her ears, that sounded weak.

  “You’ll be working that Saturday? Come on, it’s not really the agency,” Blossom said, as if she could see straight through Shadow. “I think this is about Grey. I told Logan this might be a problem.”

  Her insight didn’t surprise Shadow. Blossom had seen her with Grey at the birthday party for Blossom’s soon-to-be stepson. It had been no secret that Shadow had wanted to avoid him.

  “I just talked to him in town,” she admitted.

  “I shouldn’t pry. Logan told me you two broke up years ago for some awful reason, but I can see that Grey still loves you.”

  Shadow’s heart turned over. “Which doesn’t help. We always had a rocky relationship—on-again, off-again, with lots of drama—” And love, she thought. For a moment she couldn’t go on, yet Blossom had a right to know at least part of the truth. “Then there was a shooting accident. The sheriff, the coroner, the forensics lab—no one could determine whose fault it was, exactly—though most people still think they know—and Grey was never charged. But I’d still lost him... Jared, I mean. He was my older brother, and of all the kids in my family, I was closest to him. I still miss him,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, Shadow. I didn’t know.”

  She stared down at her shoes, soft loafers today from her ever-growing collection. “The town’s still talking about that, more again since I came back to Barren.” She sighed. “Now you know why I can’t be in your wedding.” Part of the reason.

  Blossom sat back to rest her spine against the riser of the next step as she rubbed her pregnant stomach. Her coming baby had played a big part in helping Blossom turn her life around with Logan, and Shadow envied her that new start.

  A brief silence fell. Shadow could see the disappointment in her brown eyes. Blossom didn’t know that many people in Barren. Shadow was probably leaving her in the lurch.

  She squeezed Blossom’s hand, then got to her feet. “I’d better get going.” As always, when she visited the Circle H, which was rare, she tried to avoid a glance toward Grey’s neighboring ranch. Today, she couldn’t. He was too much on her mind, the stunned look on his face when she’d told him about the pregnancy. Just over the slight hill between the two properties, she could glimpse the roof of his barn. She said weakly, “Tell Logan I said hey.”

  Blossom stood, too, wobbling to gain her balance until Shadow cupped a hand under her elbow to steady her. “Thanks. My center of gravity is off these days.” She paused. “Please think about this, Shadow. I know it would be difficult for you with Grey in the wedding party, but there’s no one else I’d rather have for my maid of honor even if I knew everyone in town and had lived here all my life.”

  Shadow had to bite her lip against another rush of tears. “That’s sweet, Blossom. I’m honored.” She moved toward her car. “Grateful,” she added. “But really, I...can’t.”

  She regretted having to say no, letting down her new friend. Now, all because of the tragedy from years ago, she’d hurt two people. Blossom and Grey.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IN THE DARK, on a slight rise above the lower pasture near the western boundary of his ranch, Grey trained his binoculars on the grass below and several hundred yards away. Earlier, on a hunch, he’d decided to keep watch tonight. Lying flat on his stomach, he doubted he could be seen behind this low scrub, but something was definitely going on. A few cows had skittered off, bawling, raising Grey’s blood pressure and generating a surge of adrenaline. Then he heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle.

  He muttered a curse as a big white truck towing a stock trailer rolled to a stop by the roadside. Trouble, all right.

  He’d been expecting, even hoping, to see vandals. A couple of teenagers, maybe, out on a lark after prom or graduation at the local high school. Celebrating. Or rather, making mischief by knocking over mailboxes or cutting fence. Not this. What he suspected was about to happen would be far worse. And devastating to his bottom line—if he let it happen.

  As he watched, the trailer’s back gate opened. With a screech of metal on metal, the ramp rattled down. A wiry figure in dark clothing glanced around, then walked up to the fence Grey had fixed properly just before dusk. And snipped the wire.

  “No, you don’t,” Grey said to himself, but the man was already through. He coiled up a rope then sent the loop sailing through the air with an audible hiss. Not bad form, but his first try missed. One of the Angus cows that had run off before took off again. “You won’t,” Grey said, but he didn’t move. Not yet.

  On his second throw, the man snagged a young heifer.

  Grey grabbed his cell phone. When the sheriff’s dispatcher answered, Grey said in a low tone, “Ge
t me some help out here. Rustlers,” then hung up.

  The heifer, which had recently been weaned, was being herded to the van, protesting all the way. A cow, most likely its mother, bellowed in answer. The whole herd milled around, boxy dark shapes in the night caught between apparent concern for the younger cow and their instinctive need to flee. In the next pasture, Grey’s best bull paced back and forth behind an uncut fence, eyeing the action, intent upon protecting his cows.

  Grey reached for his rifle.

  The sheriff would come, but his office in Barren was miles away. By the time he got here, the thieves would be gone.

  Grey cocked the rifle. He wasn’t close enough to be accurate with the weapon and didn’t want to warn them, but if it came to shooting...he would. He would prefer to get hard proof of the theft, rather than scare them off, just as he wanted evidence to clear himself in Jared Moran’s death—if things turned out his way. That meant waiting until the cows were on board before he made his move.

  For a few moments longer, he eyeballed the three rustlers through the scope as they rounded up half a dozen cows and a few calves and drove them up the ramp. The men weren’t subtle; they worked with speed yet didn’t seem to care if anyone saw them. Then again, on this stretch of road that wasn’t likely. The whole time Grey had been here, not a car or rancher’s pickup had passed by. Most local people would be in bed at this time of night. Like Grey, they got up at dawn, if not before, worked hard all day then turned in early to get ready for the next.

  The ramp screeched up again. The rear gate banged shut.

  The physical evidence he’d wanted was now standing in the stock trailer. Over the noise from those kidnapped cattle, from farther away he could just hear an approaching car, coming fast. The sheriff’s cruiser? But as he’d figured, not quick enough. Before Grey could move, the three men scrambled into the truck, slamming the front doors. The engine fired up, and the headlights pierced the darkness, illuminating the spiky grass along the newly broken fence line and the gravel at the edge of the road as if they were part of a stage set.