A Cowboy's Pride

by Karen Rock

  Katlynn made a face at him, mostly embarrassed but also appreciative of the staff’s approving glances.

  “I’m a serious journalist, people. Put me in a one-piece at least,” she joked, earning her a larger laugh than she deserved. Funny how fame amplified life. Everyone and everything was bigger, better, more beautiful. She no longer knew if people laughed at her jokes because they were funny, if others were nice because they liked her, or if they did favors without expecting something in return.

  LA was a lonely place, despite all the attention. Still, it beat Carbondale, Colorado. She’d been invisible there except, for a brief time, when her ex-fiancé made her the center of his world. Yet, before their wedding, he’d shoved her needs aside like everyone else and broken her heart.

  No.

  He’d shattered it.

  You could fix broken things, but shattered meant irreparable... Besides a few lackluster dates, she’d avoided romance since, determined to never open herself up to hurt again.

  “USS Wasp...” Tom rubbed his chin, considering, then shook his head. “Sounds too military. We need something juicy and personal. Murder. Revenge. Stuff like that...”

  Mystery. Scandal. Americana, murder and revenge. Katlynn’s body froze as an idea detonated into her mind, nuclear blast bright and just as devastating.

  When a choking sound escaped her, staffers jumped to offer bottles of sparkling water.

  “Are you okay?” Braydon thumped her back and appeared ready to perform the Heimlich.

  She held up her hand as she swallowed a long, cold gulp of water. “F-fine.”

  Only she wasn’t okay, not when she knew the perfect idea to save the show was one that might destroy her in the process.

  “Anyone else?” Tom demanded.

  “We could return to New Orleans,” Stella suggested. “Dig up more on the Ax Man serial killer.”

  Tom’s eyebrows crashed together. “No. We need something new. Something people sitting at home can relate to. A scandalous story about a family, maybe. Star-crossed lovers. Betrayal. Anything?”

  Silence descended, and Katlynn’s throat swelled, the answer to the show’s dilemma on the tip of her tongue.

  “We’re sunk,” moaned one of the writers.

  “Better call your agents, folks,” Stella joked, not sounding amused.

  Katlynn’s heart squeezed when their sound tech, seven months pregnant with her first child, swiped away tears. She had to share an idea, which might save not only her career, but also those of this amazing group, who worked hard to make her shine.

  At her throat-clearing, everyone quieted.

  “Katlynn?” Tom asked, using the gentle voice he reserved for her. “Did you have a suggestion?”

  She nodded, temporarily mute at the idea of returning home and seeing Cole Loveland. She’d fled Carbondale to save herself. Now she needed to return to it to do the same.

  Oh, the irony.

  “The Cade-Loveland feud,” she said once she trusted her voice.

  Stella stopped writing and glanced up. “I’ve heard of that...”

  “A juicy scandal all right,” Braydon added. “The longest-running family feud in America. Wasn’t the rumor that the feud started when the poor, younger son of one family kidnapped the other family’s heiress daughter and killed her?”

  “That’s one version. Some believe there was a secret affair,” added Katlynn, recalling more details. Just last month, when her mother finally returned Katlynn’s call, she’d declared herself knocked over by a feather. Incredibly, the heads of the Cade and Loveland clans were engaged, and everyone in Carbondale speculated that a Titanic of a wedding disaster loomed.

  Stella rubbed her hands together. “Ohhhhh, this is going to be juicy.”

  “It has it all.” Tom nodded slowly. “Mystery, murder, betrayal, love and a jewel theft. Didn’t a famous fifty-carat sapphire belonging to one of the families disappear at the time? What was it called? Carolyn’s Tear?”

  “Cora’s Tear,” Katlynn corrected, knowing the legend of the priceless stone having grown up in Carbondale, not to mention being engaged to the oldest son in the Loveland clan.

  “That’s your hometown, right?” Braydon asked.

  Katlynn nodded, masking her dread. After leaving twelve years ago, she hadn’t looked back. She never wanted to remember the nobody she’d been, the love she’d lost. Could she face her difficult past?

  To save her show...yes. She’d have to see Cole to cover the story about his family. Only this time he’d realize he’d been wrong to ask her to give up her dreams, her ambitions. She’d learned to shine on her own so she’d never be diminished again.

  “Do you have a connection with the families? An in?” Tom demanded, his voice rising. Excited murmurs circled the table.

  Katlynn cleared her clogged throat with a cough. “I’m acquainted with them, yes.”

  Tom’s broad smile revealed capped teeth in a flash of white. “Then it’s settled. Katlynn, you’ve saved the day.”

  She lingered as the group filed out.

  If she solved such a sensational historical mystery, it’d secure Scandalous History’s spot in next season’s lineup, put them on the map and might even win her an Emmy. Could she handle returning home where her family, and the man she’d once loved, had made her feel inconsequential to do it?

  * * *

  “SHE’S DROPPED HER CALF,” Cole Loveland informed his approaching father, pointing to the bellowing gray Brahman lying on the frosted ground. He’d herded the “heavy” into the small field adjacent to the calving shed last night when he’d noticed the beginning signs of labor. Since then, Cole had checked on the heifer every hour, concerned for the first-time mother.

  “Doesn’t appear interested in her calf.” Boyd reined his brown quarter horse to a stop, and they watched the wet newborn shiver in the freezing dawn.

  If the mother didn’t lick it dry soon, it’d die of hypothermia. Cole’s brown and white paint horse, Cash, sidestepped and nickered, sensing Cole’s unease.

  “She’s new to it.” Cole steadied his stallion while keeping his eyes on the imperiled calf.

  “Might have to pen the two and see if we can’t force them to bond.” Boyd huddled in his saddle. His fleece-lined work jacket was zipped against the arctic temperature.

  Spring officially began a couple weeks ago, but frigid air still gripped their Rocky Mountain ranch. Lingering snow capped nearby Mount Sopris, and the rising sun reflected on the white peak, coloring it rose gold against the lavender sky.

  “Let’s give her a minute. See if we can avoid stressing them.” Cole watched, narrow-eyed, as the exhausted heifer snorted then sank her head to the ground. Meanwhile, the newborn struggled to rise, its sodden limbs heavy and uncoordinated. It bawled, a child’s universal appeal to its mother for help. The Brahman continued to stare listlessly forward, though, as if she hadn’t heard a thing.

  “Can’t afford to lose any more calves.” Boyd reached into his saddlebag and passed over an insulated coffee thermos.

  Cole’s fingers, numb despite his gloves, fumbled to open the tab. He lifted it to his nose and breathed in the fortifying, pungent brew. Scalding black liquid burned his tongue as he swigged it back. Instantly, energy zapped his fatigued body, worn through after twenty-four hours of ranch work, anxious vigilance and no sleep. “Saw we got a letter from the bank yesterday.”

  “Yep,” his father answered, noncommittal.

  Cole slid a sideways glance at his pa’s weathered face, his expression inscrutable beneath the wide brim of his rancher’s hat. Tough old cowboy. He never gave a thing away.

  “What’s it say?” Cole asked as the calf hoisted itself on its front legs before it slipped and fell again. Its mother glanced back and pushed to her knees. A sign they were beginning to bond?

  “Final notice.”


  His father shared the devastating news as if relaying the weather. “Cold out today,” Cole imagined him saying. “Mind the ice. And our one-hundred-and-thirty-year-old family ranch is about to be foreclosed on.”

  Cole swore under his breath. The Lovelands had battled to remain solvent for generations, despite their lack of access to the Crystal River. Property lines ceding water rights to their feuding neighbors, the Cades, required longer, danger-riddled cattle drives to distant water sources, depleting Loveland herds. A recent three-year drought pushed them nearly to the point of no return.

  He had to find a way to save the ranch.

  And it wouldn’t be by benefiting from his father’s imminent marriage to Joy Cade, Cade Ranch’s widowed matriarch, despite whispered speculation. Lovelands made their own way, provided for their family and didn’t take charity.

  Besides, Cade Ranch was jointly owned by the Cade siblings, and Joy only owned a small percentage of the property.

  “How much time do we have?” As Cole watched, the new mother struggled to her feet and meandered a short distance from her crying calf, attempting to graze. Was she about to abandon it? Cole’s anxiety intensified.

  “It’ll go up for auction within the month.”

  “Before the wedding.” Cole passed the thermos to his father, his dismay compounding. News like this set tongues wagging. It’d further fuel rumors of his father being an opportunist who married for money.

  “Yes.” The hint of despair in Pa’s voice set Cole’s teeth on edge. “Unless we accept James Cade’s offer.”

  “No.” They’d never allow rivals to buy their land and rent it back to them, no matter how fair the offer. James vowed the deal would be just between them, but Cole’s pride wouldn’t let him accept.

  Being talked about in public got under his skin. The child of an alcoholic parent, he’d grown up in a house full of secrets. When his mother killed herself on his sixteenth birthday, her father, a senator, fed the press fake stories and suggested foul play to pressure law enforcement to open a homicide investigation.

  When the press labeled Boyd a murderous opportunist after his wife’s inheritance, it’d nearly broken him.

  Now, on the eve of a second chance at love, Cole’s father might be the subject of malicious, widespread gossip and press again.

  No.

  He could not let that happen.

  The heifer inched farther away, rutting hay scattered over the frozen ground, an eye flicking to her calf now and again. She was curious. If Cole gave them more space, would she take to mothering? Some things couldn’t be forced. Even penning them together wasn’t a guarantee. His mother had been surrounded by her children and she’d never considered them over her addiction.

  His lonely father deserved happiness, a scandal-free wedding and a loving marriage with his former childhood sweetheart. Yet the Cade-Loveland family truce was temporary at best given their continued water rights and cattle disputes. They’d be fortunate to get through the wedding peacefully without outside pressure riling simmering tensions.

  Tomorrow Cole would ask the loan officers to postpone the foreclosure until after summer. A rainy season might turn things around and help them replenish the herd. Despite the long-shot odds, he had to try.

  He’d devoted his life to Loveland Hills, sacrificed all, including his heart, once. He’d never leave it voluntarily. Not while he still breathed. Lovelands stood by each other. His father gave up his happiness for his kids’ sakes. He’d earned their loyalty, no matter how it’d nearly broken Cole when he’d had to let go of the one person who’d meant everything to him.

  The calf ominously stopped bawling, and its movements slowed to mere twitches. An arctic gust billowed Cash’s mahogany mane like a sail. Another five minutes in these conditions and the newborn would die. Cole’s fingers clenched around the reins.

  “Let’s bring ’em in.” Boyd patted the rope looped on the side of his saddle. “She’s not keen on being a mother.”

  Cole watched the now listless calf. His heart went out to the youngling. A mother should care for her offspring, dang it.

  “Got one last idea.” He whistled for their cattle dog, Boomer. The black-and-white border collie sprang from beneath the calving shed’s eave, ears up and forward, eyes on his master. Cole ordered Boomer into the field and held his breath.

  The clever dog crept across the white ground, body low. The newborn’s eyes rolled, whites showing, as it struggled to drag itself away from a perceived threat. The stream of its frantic bleats whipped the heifer’s head around. White huffed from her flaring nostrils when she spied Boomer.

  “Get him, girl,” Cole urged the Brahman beneath his breath, leaning forward in the saddle. Hopefully, his gamble paid off and the “predator” nearing her offspring would arouse her maternal instincts.

  “Boomer’s got her attention,” Boyd observed quietly as they watched the tense standoff.

  The collie crept closer, and the heifer stamped her hooves.

  Fueled by terror, the calf surged to its feet and trembled in place, its strength expended. Boomer advanced a couple more steps, and the heifer issued a loud warning bellow.

  “You gonna call that dog back?” Boyd asked out of the corner of his mouth. “He’s likely to get trampled.”

  “I trust him,” Cole replied firmly. As the ranch manager, he trained all their cattle dogs, including Boomer, to herd, load and drive. Despite everything gone wrong in his life—a called-off wedding, failed love life and looming foreclosure, Cole excelled at commanding his working dogs.

  Cole watched as Boomer eyed the thousand-pound Brahman, sliding another paw forward, then another, drawing within bite distance of the terrified, braying calf.

  Then the mother charged, fueled by maternal fury, surging at Boomer. The cattle dog expertly dodged her deadly hooves and scuttled clear.

  Cole held up his hand, halting the collie’s retreat. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Best keep pressuring.

  One eye on Boomer, the heifer sniffed her calf. Her tongue darted out and her rough lick tipped the newborn’s head.

  “Atta girl,” Cole muttered, his chest loosening as he dragged in his first full breath in hours.

  “Nicely done, son,” Boyd said and the rare praise from his stoic father caught Cole with unexpected warmth. Living life on the edge of personal and financial disaster had a way of threatening a man’s pride. He took his victories where he could. They’d saved the calf whose mother now lavished it with a thorough bathing.

  Could they save the ranch, too?

  “Looks like our work’s done.” Pa wheeled his horse around and nudged it into a walk down the rutted lane to their stable.

  “I’ll keep checking on them.” Cole brought Cash up alongside his father’s mustang. Boomer kept pace.

  Only the twittering of waking birds, and the clip of hooves striking hard ground, broke the silence. Overhead, the iridescent sky glowed. Light now striped the fallow fields awaiting this year’s planting, and their shadows rode ahead.

  “I’ll stop down to First National at nine,” Cole said once they’d reached the stable and untacked the horses. The sweet smell of grain rose as he poured cornmeal into Cash’s feed bucket, a treat for the exhausted horse.

  “No need to waste your time, son.” Cool water misted the air as Boyd filled the water troughs. Several horses hung their heads outside their stall doors, nosy about the early activity, nickering to the new arrivals.

  “It’s not a waste.” Cole doled out halved apples to his siblings’ mounts. “If I can convince them to hold off a couple months, and we have a good season, we could turn things around.”

  “I figured out another way without including the bank.” Boyd pulled the stable door shut behind them once they finished.

  “Good to hear.” Cole glanced at his frowning father from the corner of hi
s eye. Why didn’t Pa seem pleased?

  “Not sure you’ll think so.” They ambled closer to the two-story homestead built by their ancestor, Colonel Archibald Loveland, an army veteran. He’d deserted from the Colorado War, married a Cheyenne interpreter and settled here over a hundred and thirty years ago, breathing life into the first of many Loveland scandals.

  Must be in their blood.

  “Why would I object?” Cole noticed a few green shoots alongside the fieldstone walkway to their front porch. With any luck, they might get three hay crops...

  Boyd paused on the porch’s stairs. “Was approached by an outfit to do a story about our feud with the Cades. They’ll pay enough to cover our mortgage through the season if I give them access to the property.”

  Cole leaned against the pine banister, absorbing his father’s news. Like the rest of the home, it’d been culled from the distant forests and hauled over great distances. Their ranch was a bastion against a landscape of forbidding mountains, its warm hearth and hand-hewn timber beams communicating self-reliance, simplicity and lack of pretentions. His heart swelled at the thought of what his ancestors had wrought.

  They’d fight to their last breaths to safeguard their family’s legacy. But a story dredging up old scandals? It’d upset the tenuous peace between them and the Cades and jeopardize his father’s wedding. His hard-won happiness.

  “What kind of outfit? Something local?” Cole’s hands tightened around the banister as he recalled the frenzied media who’d hounded his family after his mother’s death.

  “Cable show.” For some reason, his pa seemed to have trouble meeting Cole’s eye.

  “National TV?” Cole squinted into the strengthening sunshine and glimpsed an approaching black car bumping down their drive. “We don’t want them sniffing around the place, dragging out old skeletons.”

  “Better than being thrown off our land before the wedding,” Pa countered.

  Cole shoved his balled hands into his pockets, unable to counter the argument. “They’ll drag up stuff about Ma.”

  The vehicle neared, its engine’s smooth purr sounding expensive, foreign. Out-of-towners. Someone lost?